I tossed my coins down on the table and said, “Kan’on to win, taking not a single hit.”

The guard-cum-bookie looked at me skeptically but took note of the bet. Poor guy, I knew a few things he didn’t.

Orleander had stopped behind me but didn’t look inclined to put a stop to the festivities. I sidled my way up to him and took a swig from my flask.

“So what do you think?” I asked, trying not to sound as smug as I felt.

“The outcome is obvious. Don’t try to act like it isn’t. You may be in for a little surprise though. It should be obvious that I wouldn’t keep someone unqualified to protect me at my side.”

One of the guardsman stood between Ms. Black and Kan’on saying something I couldn’t quite make out, presumably outlining the rules. Probably standard tournament rules. Both combatants had swords in hand.

Ms. Black held a long and narrow edged blade meant more for stabbing than slashing but functioned either way. Kan’on held his usual thin longsword, one of the most widely used and versatile weapons. Many people would think a master of the sword would carry around something unique or fancy, but he didn’t need any such thing.

Kan’on looked more cautious than usual. Over the course of whatever confrontation led to this, he must have discovered Mr. Black was a Ms. Black too. He wouldn’t want to be surprised again. Well, that would add a few seconds to the fight at least.

“Is she familiar with Skyreach Pinnacle? It seems like an ill-advised matchup if she does know.”

“I’ve no idea. They are famous to those interested in that particular kind of knowledge, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t make the connection. She can also be hotheaded when she feels her pride has been slighted.”

“Something to work on then, I guess.”

The referee stepped out of the way and the room went quiet. He held his hand up, looked at the participants, and swiped his hand down, signaling the start.

Ms. Black exploded forward, leading with the tip of her almost-rapier. Fast. Too fast. Kan’on only had time to edge his sword into position to parry her strike to the side before she was on him, steel sliding against steel.

She disengaged as Kan’on maneuvered his sword into a favorable position. That was a mistake. She should have kept the pressure up. Now he had time to mentally adjust for her speed.

She lunged forward into an extended thrust, angling for Kan’on’s throat, a killing blow in tournament rules. Kan’on sidestepped and threw a vicious kick to her brigandine chest armor. Breath rushed out of her in an audible ‘oof’, and she retreated once again, though too fast.

I examined the Flow around her, looking for clues to her incredible speed. Her movements imitated what I did with current manipulation in the Flow, boosting her speed and agility, but it was a pale imitation.

She attacked again, but Kan’on already had her measure and cleanly parried her rapid fire thrusts and strikes.

I spotted a curious burst of power in the Flow from her feet and hands. Ah! Clever, a glyph user. Tournament rules stated that you could use whatever you entered the arena with. Usually that meant you couldn’t use any unprepared magic, but prepared magic was a bit of a loophole because of how rare it was to find someone who practiced it. She must have had glyphs in her boots and gloves. Probably her chest armor too, based on her unnatural direction shifts.

Ms. Black once again went on the offensive, but it was too late for her, the fight as good as over. Kan’on deflected a series of slashes, then practically disappeared from sight as he flashed forward, only reappearing as his sword drew a tiny line of blood down her throat.

“Stop! First blood! Kan’on is the victor!” Good job referee, even if you were a few steps behind the action.

“As expected, I hope you enjoyed fleecing my guards.”

“What can I say, I’m an opportunist,” I replied, already rubbing my hands together at the sight of the pile of money.

All of the betting pool members gave me dirty looks as I scooped up the pile of silver. Knowledge is power, gentlemen.

I found my previous seat and took a sip from the alcoholic juice concoction. Just as good as I remembered. Kan’on joined me shortly as Ms. Black stormed out of the pavilion.

“Did you know that she was a woman?” He asked me as he sat down.

“I found out just a few minutes before you did. She’s interesting. I haven’t seen someone using glyphs in ages.”

“Glyphs? So that’s it. Her speed caught me by surprise, and I was already looking for tricks. She almost had me at the start. She is only a mediocre swordsman though.” Kan’on took a sip of his own juice. “If glyphs are so effective, why aren’t they more common?”

“Glyphs are just lesser, semi-permanent versions of runes. The cost to make them permanent is high, but the power they hold is a fraction of that of a similar rune. They also fall into a grey area, in terms of power. A weak person doesn’t know enough to use them effectively and someone strong would already be more powerful than what the glyphs would provide and probably already have knowledge of runes. If I had to guess, I’d say she had a late start learning how to fight and had to compensate for her lack of power with glyphs. Like I said though, she’s interesting. She developed an effective strategy around her weakness.”

Kan’on went quiet, probably thinking about the implications. I turned my attention to the various snacks available at the table. Orleander soon returned and sat at the table, followed by the Baron. Clyde had disappeared, probably chasing down Ms. Black.

“Orleander, we’ve got a problem. And by ‘we’ I mean you. I’ve seen evidence of Carvers around town, and our driver Jass also spotted signs out in the woods nearby.”

The Count grimaced but before he could say anything Kan’on interjected. “That’s what we were talking about before, the bodyguard and me. She took offense when I said I was unconcerned with fighting Carvers, and then it escalated quickly.”

“I tried to mediate, but it grew beyond me quickly,” said the Baron, apparently trying to distance himself from the conflict.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. A Baron, in the grand scheme of things, was a very minor noble, only qualified by their land stewardship. A spine wasn’t something that one needed to possess for the title of Baron.

I let the news of the Carvers sink in a little, watching Orleander’s face as he realized the implications to his livestock and drivers.

“Something is weird, though. There aren’t as many as I would expect and they’re being especially restrained, which isn’t a quality they’re known for.”

Orleander called one of his guardsman over and whispered direction into his hear. The man saluted smartly and ran out of the tent.

“We shouldn’t have any Labyrinthian creatures at all. We don’t have an entrance nearby, at least never one that has been discovered, but even if undiscovered we would have known just because we would have seen evidence,” the Baron said.

“I tracked them for a ways. Their trail leads to the north of town.”

“The north? That way cuts through the forest and hits the road that the Count is waiting on, the one that is currently washed out.”

“Was it washed out by the river or by a landslide?”

“Landslide, the whole mountainside detached… ah. I see. Perhaps tomorrow I will send my men at arms to investigate. It seems likely that we have a new entrance.”

I nodded. I looked at the empty glass in my hands, getting a little fidgety. My task in informing the Count of the Carvers complete, and the planned entertainment happened earlier than I expected. I looked for an excuse to make an escape back to the comfortable fire and Jass’ more agreeable company.

“Ardashir, are you willing to assist the Baron against the Carvers, if such a need arises,” Orleander asked.

“Nah. Carvers are nasty pieces of work, but nothing a disciplined group of armsmen can’t handle, and now that you’re aware it shouldn’t be too hard to deal with them. That’s not to say I won’t kill any if I see them, but I’d be more worried about that open entrance. Now that that cat is out of the bag, there is no going back. Whatever is lurking around down in the dark is going to sense it and come out to play.”

Count Orleander only gave cursory nod. It wasn’t really his problem, assuming he could get out of town without trouble, but he needed to keep up appearances. I winced as the itching in the back of my mind intensified, transforming from a slight presence to an active nuisance. Not a good sign.

The Baron, on the other hand, looked like a spirit caressed his future grave. I figured he wasn’t yet used to the idea of his sleepy little town turning into a locus of Labyrinth activity, both things coming out and adventurers going in.

It would be chaotic to begin with, but ultimately the town would make a lot of money from the whole thing, assuming it wasn’t wiped out before then. I had a feeling the Baron would be replaced in the near future for someone more emotionally equipped to deal with the situation.

“Well, my friends, it has been a pleasure, but I’m missing my cozy fire, so I’ll be heading out. Thank you for your hospitality… and the entertainment.” Short and sweet. If Orleander had it his way he’d turn my leaving into some kind of elaborate ritual, so I got up before he had the chance.

Kan’on made his own excuses and thanks, then together we left the pavilion. I still hadn’t seen so much as a stitch of Clyde’s ridiculously gaudy outfit since the little sparring match, but the camp seemed more alert, tense. Guards paced at the edge of the light outside the camp, keeping watch on the edge of the forest. I grunted in approval. Seems Clyde wasn’t such a useless clod.

The booze caught up to me on the way back, my feet tripping over pesky invisible rocks and other obstacles. Kan’on, the deeps blasted saint, lent me his shoulder to steady myself until we made it back to camp.

I slumped to the ground next to the fire, trying to make my fuzzy brain process the events of the evening. The sun had long since set, leaving us in comfortable silence around the fire. Comfortable except for the looming threat of homicidal flesh-ripper-meat-juice-suckers. Jass had placed his spear within easy reach and Kan’on’s sword had never left his side. I hadn’t even bothered bringing mine to visit the count in his extravagant waste of a camp, but it now rested at my side.

As I laid there letting the alcohol drown out the ever-growing itch in the back of my mind, something in the currents of the Flow caught my attention, a writhing tickling feeling washed over me.

I sat up and followed the feeling with my eyes, eventually landing on the nearby forest.

“Shit.” It was times like these I wished I was more eloquent, but the booze made thinking clever things difficult. “We’re about to have company.”

The others glanced at me, then followed my gaze. Kan’on, predictably unconcerned, just nodded and gripped his sword a little tighter. Jass surprised me though, though based on his recent behavior he shouldn’t have. He looked into the distance and grabbed his spear without hesitation.

“Hold on fellas. I didn’t say we should be the ones to get up and fight. I’m just saying that they’re coming. I’m comfortable where I am. Good fire. Good company. No reason to get up if you ask me. Let the paid fighters handle all the action, we’re paying passengers after all. Except you Jass, you know what I mean.”

They both gave me identical looks, the look you give to your disappointing father when he shirked his duties. I grunted. Fine, but every time I got a good buzz going the world conspired against me. Was it too much to ask to be able to get blackout drunk and then pass out, dead to the world and the presence in the back of my mind for a while? On cue, the itching progressed to a buzz. I sighed and drew up a healing rune and plunged my head into it, wishing it was a bucket of water.

I guess I was hunting Carvers after all.