The sound of fighting had died down. Fortunately, the lightning attack and shield-users blast had taken most of the lizardmen. He turned his attention back towards the Climbers, hoping the woman had survived.

She had.

The woman stood panting against the hut, her bow and quiver on the ground. Neither of the two DeLawney fighters were on their feet. The shield-user lay on the ground, his armour a smoking heap and spirit missing. Meanwhile, the feline spirit's master sat not far away, looking moments from death. She didn't appear to have suffered any injuries, but cracks covered the spirit's bone armour. Bunty guessed restoring the protections had severely drained her. Her unfocused eyes stared at her companion's remains. The final Climber, the one with the abdomen injury, appeared just as pale.

"Where are you going, Gwyneth?" The injured Climber asked when the bowman collected her effects and left their midst. The lizardmen were dead or unconscious and no longer a threat.

"Getting out of here," Gwyneth answered.

"You can't just run away," the feline spirit's master said. "We're a party. We came here to get you a Core and protected you—"

"I'm your prisoner, Marge! Only Liam was nice to me." She poked the shield-wielder with her foot. "And I'm pretty sure he's dead. I never wanted to be a healer for the house. You can't force me to join you!"

"Don't forget your father's debts," Marge continued. "You belong to the DeLawney family."

"They were his! Not mine. The city has outlawed indentured servitude. Just because you won't let me leave the tower, doesn't mean you can evade the laws forever. I'm leaving, and there is nothing you can do about it." Gwyneth turned to Bunty. "Who are you?"

"Not too keen on disclosing my identity to strangers," Bunty yelled from across the settlement. "Especially after I claimed the Core."

"That Core is property of the DeLawney household." Marge's protest came out hoarse and cracked.

"That's precisely why I'd rather keep my distance. You lot would've died if I didn't kill the shaman. Perhaps I should've waited for him to finish his follow-up spell before going in."

Gwyneth wove her way through the fallen lizardmen towards Bunty. Her pale knuckles further whitened as she clenched her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. "Help me get to a hub," she said. "I'll trade you for the Core too."

Marge crawled over to Liam and searched his person. "That's not your property to trade!" She yelled, trying to get back up, but her legs failed her. She collapsed in a heap. "Please, Gwyn. You can't leave us here. Gregory will bleed out, and if argonians from the main settlement get here, I'm done for. That fight took too much out of me."

"In sorry, Marge, but I don't have much of a choice," she said. "You'll drag me back to one of the encampments or report to the others in the primary hub. The family worked Arthur to death, and I won't let you do the same to me." Gwyneth returned her attention to Bunty. "Just help me reach a gate. I'll do anything!" She fished a large crimson Core out of her jacket. Marge raised her voice again, asking Gwyneth how she took the sphere off Liam but didn't get an answer. "This came from an eight-century-old creature. I'll give it to you for the shaman's Core and passage out of Gaia's Ark."

Bunty looked between her and the two disabled Climbers. He needed to know more about the Core, but it sounded like a good enough deal. He was more than happy to escort her out of the tower for nothing but wanted to inspect the Core at an upgrade station before agreeing to a trade.

"Let's discuss terms as we walk," Bunty said. He got a good feeling from Gwyneth. It was most likely due to her projected hatred towards the house. It wasn't unheard of for powerful houses to trap Climbers with useful spirits into servitude. The DeLawney employees yelled after them as they exited the settlement, towards the old campsite.

"What would you like to discuss?" Gwyneth asked after Marge's sobbing was out of earshot. The sounds had pulled at Bunty's heartstrings, but he managed to stay strong. People committed too many atrocities, claiming it was what they were told to do. He tried to convince himself that her fate wasn't his responsibility, but he was sure that his conscience would have more to say come bedtime. Besides, transporting two injured individuals is never safe. They'd be forced to slow and most likely invite trouble by helping them.

"Tell me about your spirit first," Bunty said. "Why would the DeLawneys go through the trouble of assigning you a protection detail—"

"Prison detail." Gwyneth slipped in the correction, keeping her eyes on Bunty's hands. She most likely didn't trust him, and he didn't blame her for it.

"Fine. Prison detail. As far as I know, the houses don't go through that much trouble for just any spirit."

"They don't." Gwyneth sighed. "Do you know anything about hollow spirits?"

"You mean the paper by Arthur Frie?" Bunty asked. "Seemed a tad optimistic but made me feel better for sure. I very much like the concept of there being no such thing as a junk spirit."

"I can see you've got one those yourself," she said, looking down at Bunty's right arm. It was then he realised that his sleeves had ripped, exposing most of his bruised forearms. The padding had done a hell of a job keeping him safe, but the slime lord's gastric juices had damaged them too much. "Arthur Frie was my father. He was an academic with too many bad habits. As a result, he ended up indebted to the DeLawneys." She looked away while talking about her father—eyes drifting to the floor. "Either way, Arthur believed that hollow tool spirits are just as powerful as the other types. They appear weaker because they are empty and rely on their master to give them purpose. Unlike a standard tool spirit, they are super reliant on their first Core. It gives them shape and purpose, defining how the rest of their progress will be."

Gwyneth pulled up her sleeve, exposing her tattoo. When she ran her finger along with it, a head-sized metal lamp manifested, floating in front of her.

"This is mine. It has two parts: the metal casing and the light within. This light is the hollow bit of my spirit. It can upgrade from almost any Core, but Arthur discovered such ephemeral elements can do wonders with a spirit caller or shaman's powers."

"Let me guess," Bunty said. "The DeLawneys wanted to experiment using your spirit? A lamp that casts a healing light can be used to power not just a party but a small army."

"They weren't experimenting using me," Gwyneth replied. "They already succeeded once using Arthur's flute. After he passed, they decided that I should take his place. We trailed that troupe of lizardmen for weeks, but the shaman didn't display his lightning-calling powers once. The party rushed in with incomplete information and paid for it."

Bunty found it odd that Gwyneth referred to her father by name. Was it her upbringing or animosity born from the inherited debt? He couldn't tell. Instead, he focused on her voice, looking for inflexions. Bunty couldn't figure out whether she was lying or not. The exchange had come across as genuine, but he didn't like how eager Gwyneth had been to ditch her party. It sounded like she had been on good terms with the shield-bearer but hadn't expressed any grief following his demise. She had stolen the offered Core off him too.

"If the shaman's Core can give me offensive or utility lightning spells, I'll have the ability to defend myself," Gwyneth continued. "Then no noble house or their lackeys can force me into servitude."

"Let’s get to an upgrade station first," Bunty said. "I'd like to check my spirit's compatibility before agreeing to a trade. You don't have to pay me to escort you out. I only ask that you use the bow and arrows to fight by my side if anything attacks us."

"What noble house do you work for? Gwyneth asked after a brief silence.

"I never said I worked for any of them."

"That's true, but Arthur's works weren't widely published. I imagine only libraries owned by a house or corporation would have a copy."

Bunty studied the woman for a second. She didn't pose much of a physical threat. If she attacked him, he knew he'd have little trouble putting her down. If anything, he had made enemies of the DeLawneys—if any of Gwyneth's former party survived to report the incident.

"The Boleyns. My father works for them, and I grew up in their household."

"But you're not in their employ?"

"No," he answered. "I'm climbing independently until I find a suitable Core for my spirit."

Gwyneth's eyes drifted to the exposed tattoo on Bunty's forearm. “Which is why you want to visit an upgrade station first.” She grabbed his hand and rolled his sleeve up. “It’s the inkwell, isn’t it?”

“How can you tell—”

“I’ve grown up reading Arthur's work,” she answered before I finished my question. “The tattoo clearly highlights two distinctive parts.” Gwyneth’s fingers ran over the fountain pen’s body and the lines within it. “That’s not just art.” She traced the vertical pattern. “It tells me that there is more going on than just an upgradable barrel and nib. I don’t know if you find it as fascinating as I do, but fluid and abstract elements are rare in spirits. Mine is lamplight, and yours is ink.” She sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that the shaman’s Core won’t have decent compatibility with your spirit. It’s perfect for mine, though.”

“We’ll see about that,” Bunty said, finally silencing her.