The northernmost gate out of Bordertown was a simple affair, all clean lines and massive blocks of stone. The portcullis was a dull, grey metal that seemed to carry the weight of the mountains with it, and the chains that controlled access in and out of the Keep glittered steel-bright in the afternoon light.

It was also firmly behind them!

The plan had worked! Distraction, check. Forged paperwork, check. Out the gate with no one the wiser, che—hang on.

A lone figure appeared in the road in front of them.

Gis.

The priest looked hateful and haggard, and his hands were clenched tight around a scroll that crumbled to dust even as Robin watched. Without a pause, the priest drew another out of the case at his side.

‘And just where do you think you’re going?’ Gloating was not a good colour on Gis.

Then again, no colour was a good colour on that cadaverous old fiend.

‘Home,’ Lantha said calmly. ‘Stand aside.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Gis hissed.

No wait. That was the snake. It slid out of the priest’s eye socket, hissing threateningly.

Grathilde made vomiting sounds. Fiamah looked ill. Ora-Jean just pulled out her axe.

‘You are going to pay for the trouble you’ve caused,’ Gis raged at them.

Yeah, no. They didn’t get this far only to have this wankstain pull up now and stop them. No matter how much heat he was probably packing in that scroll case.

‘Fine,’ Robin said, stepping forward. ‘How much?’

‘Wha-what?’ Gis looked taken aback.

‘You say we have to pay. I say fine. What would be equitable? Give me a figure. Hard coin. Information. Something to start negotiations off with.’

Everyone just looked at him, stunned.

When in doubt, confuse them, apparently. Robin would have to remember the tactic for another time. For now, he sighed.

‘Look, mate, you don’t want to see our faces any more than we want to see yours. So help us help you. Tell me what price our walking out of here might add up to. A new cart and horse? A bottle of nice, fizzy white wine? A new set of spikes for your Iron Maiden? What?’

‘You—you will pay with your lives!’

‘Seems pretty steep. Not at all fair. I’ve got a better idea.’ Robin steamrolled over the priest’s protestations.

Even the snake looked bemused.

‘How about I tell you what you can do, right now, to stop Basgar’s temporary alliance with the Merchant Lords of the Gilded Lands from going up in so much smoke?’

‘Robin!’ Lantha snapped.

‘I know what I’m doing,’ he snapped back, just under Gis’s hearing. ‘Trust me.’

‘You’re bluffing.’ Gis’s words held a lot more conviction than his face did.

‘Try me. I know you have a truth-sensing spell.’ Robin wiggled his fingers at the snake. ‘I’ve ssseen it in action.’

The snake hissed spitefully at him.

He stuck out his tongue at it.

What? Like the little bastard hadn’t been doing it to him all along?

Rude.

‘Enough!’ Gis snapped.

‘Not by half,’ Robin shot back. ‘Get off our backs, old man. I’m offering you a good deal. And you should know, it’s time sensitive. Take too long and it’ll be far too late to salvage any goodwill you might have to the west of your borders. Goodwill you are in sore need of for at least a little while longer, yes?’

‘He ssspeaksss truth,’ the snake said grudgingly.

Gis’s other eye widened.

‘What have you done?’ he demanded.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Robin smirked. ‘I’ll make it easy for you, though. Let us go, here, today, and I’ll give you the information. No lies. No tricks. You can even come after us again later, if you want. But I suspect you and Basgar will be pretty busy around here for the foreseeable.’ Robin waggled his eyebrows at the priest. ‘Whaddaya say?’

Gis glowered at him.

‘Tick tock,’ Robin said with a smile. ‘This offer won’t last—can’t last. There’s very much an expiry date and time on this intelligence.’

‘I could torture it out of you,’ Gis threatened.

‘Not before it was useless.’

‘Truth,’ the snake added.

Gis spat.

‘What’ll it be, Gissy? Tick tock. You can enact your revenge here, spells blazing, or you can swear upon Urkhan’s might that you’ll let us go today and I’ll tell you exactly where to go to stop a troubling little message from destroying your current alliance with the Merchant Lords.’

Instead of answering directly, the priest muttered a spell. Robin guessed it was some kind of augury or request for guidance. Whatever it was, Gis was not happy with the answer.

‘You have a deal,’ the priest ground out reluctantly.

‘Swear it before Urkhan,’ Robin pressed. There were a lot of things the priest could do to get around giving his word, but breaking an oath sworn on his god was not one of them. Robin’s [Bardic Lore] told him that.

‘I swear before Urkhan,’ Gis said.

Robin gave him half an eye roll.

‘Properly. Spell it out. Be specific. You should know better than to try that on with me.’

‘I, Gis, swear upon Urkhan’s might that if you give me the information I need to salvage Basgar’s alliance with the Merchant Lords of the Gilded Lands, I will withdraw and take no action that could be considered harmful against you or your allies until tomorrow.’

‘Good enough!’ Robin said cheerfully. ‘You’ll want to teleport over to the home of Merchant Cal ven Diis and do your best to convince him you’re not planning on drastically raising tariffs on imports and exports that pass through the Keep, starting with the next moon. He’s quite upset about it, as the evidence I gave him quite handily proves you lied in the last negotiating session you had with him.’ Robin paused. ‘Well, he thinks it’s the evidence Lena gave him, but never mind.’

Gis gawped at him.

‘That’s all you need, old man. Off you fuck.’

Robin made a small shooing motion with his hand.

‘You will rue this day,’ the priest promised him darkly. ‘I will destroy you for this.’

‘But not today,’ Robin answered, a flash of defiance in his eye.

Gis extracted another scroll from the case at his side and invoked its power with a grimace. The priest had to be burning through a shocking amount of gold by expending these resources. Unless Urkhan was far more generous than Robin gave the deity credit for.

Unlikely.

Robin was so caught up in his musing he didn’t notice the hand headed for his head until it slapped him upside it.

‘What was that?’ Lantha demanded.

‘Ow!’ Robin rubbed his head dramatically. She hadn’t hit him that hard, really. ‘I was getting rid of him. None of us really wanted a fight after we’d expended so many resources on that distraction.’

‘You gave him what he needed to preserve their alliance with the Merchant Lords.’ Lantha was not pleased.

‘I helped him put out one fire. We started a lot more than that. I’d give a guess, but I know that you didn’t tell me everything you did. Any of you.’ Robin jerked his chin at the Sisters Sharp. ‘And in a fight there’s always the chance something could go wrong. The last thing we need is to die in a stupid battle after we’d already escaped. Who would carry word to Noviel if that happened?’

Lantha just grunted.

‘That’s her saying you’re right,’ Ora-Jean offered. ‘And as close to an apology as you’re ever likely to get. Don’t mind her. Lantha is a perfectionist and hates to see any work go to waste.’

‘It’s not really a waste if it saves our lives, or even saves us some serious injury,’ Grathilde said.

They had begun walking as they argued. Robin didn’t fully relax until the hills rose and the road turned enough to obscure the view of the Keep in the background. Once it was out of sight, he felt his spine unknot.

Instead, he began to keep a lookout for a particular set of hills. He’d gotten a quest notification when he chose his last peculiarity and wanted to complete it before they made their way down from the foothills and onto the plains. He’d just need a spare hour or two.

‘I love this part of the country,’ Ora-Jean said. ‘The way the light hits the hills there and makes them all golden. There’s a clarity to it you just don’t see anywhere else.’

‘Especially in Noviel,’ Grathilde interjected sourly. ‘It has many virtues, but rustic beauty isn’t one of them. And don’t get me started on what a mess of architectural styles it is—’

‘It’s emblematic of the shared cultural heritage that formed the city,’ Fiamah objected. ‘It’s really a rather beautiful testament to so many different peoples coming together and coexisting peacefully—’

‘Ha!’ Grathilde punctuated her interjection with a dismissive snap of her fingers. ‘Peaceful.’

‘Mostly peaceful,’ Fiamah amended. ‘And it’s not like there’s enough bad feeling to ever erupt into civil war or—’

‘Just be aware Noviel talks a better game than it plays,’ Grathilde said. ‘And certain types get along better than others.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh come off it! Noviel is run by a bunch of uptight traditionalists! Anyone who bucks what’s expected of—’

Robin let their bickering fade off into a pleasant background susurration. He’d set foot in Noviel soon enough and then he could form his own opinions of the place. For now, there were breathtaking hills and a certain location to be on the lookout for.

He had a familiar bond to establish before they left these mountains.

They were beautiful, these peaks. Tall and sharp and shining with snow. In a very real way, they had birthed him into this world. He’d appeared deep within one of them—probably that massive frakker to the southwest—took on a new shape, and eventually emerged from a dark tunnel into the light of a new world.

Robin committed the details of this place to memory, conjuring small illusions of the scenes he could see and several he could only remember. He had the inescapable sense that a chapter of his new life was ending and he wanted to be sure he remembered as much as he could, though his new profession and other advantages meant he’d have a much better chance at it than any time in his previous life.

So yeah, a chapter was ending, but that also meant one was beginning. Robin had magic and was gaining more. Soon he’d have a familiar and find his way to his first city in this new world, a place of knowledge and magic and likely danger and opportunity.

Party.

On to Noviel!

Here Endeth the tale of The Keep Over the Borderlands!