The train bumped along into Desedra City. The tension in Rhen’s head had mounted to a full-blown migraine, and his nerves were frayed. They had twenty-eight days left to activate the nexus node, and too few prospects for recruiting.

Rhen had to be selective. He couldn’t risk bringing in someone who—once they knew the potential wealth—tried to blackmail Rhen into surrendering more than he could afford. And he most certainly couldn’t bring anyone in who would sabotage the delve for a payoff from Welsh… which was likely, at this point.

Welsh would do everything in his power to prevent Rhen from making competition for him—and bribing rival delvers was a good tactic. Rhen had seen it before. That was, if Welsh didn’t uncover his dark past first, which would be much more catastrophic for Rhen than false negatives and stolen goods.

“Hey, you okay?” Jakira touched Rhen’s arm, jerking him from thought.

“Why do you ask?”

“If your scowl could kill, everyone on the train would be dead.”

Rhen took a deep breath and felt the creases in his forehead. He relaxed and gave her a smile. “Better?”

“You can talk to me about anything. I’m your friend.”

“I’m worried about Welsh manipulating anyone we bring in, and I’m not sure we’ll even find enough good quality delvers to get this done… that’s all. I don’t want any mercenary types; they don’t play well in groups and charge too much.”

“You’ve made that pretty clear,” Jakira said with a giggle. “Trust me, I know scum. I’ve seen a lot of it. I’ll make good choices, and with both of us on the hunt, I’m sure we can get, like, at least ten people.”

But what if they couldn’t?

And what if Welsh pulled back the wool, revealing Rhen for the little wolf he was?

“There’s that death-scowl again. Come on, what’s going on, really?”

“I’m just concerned about the time we have left, and the quality of people we can recruit… and Welsh.”

“Keep your secrets, then.” Jakira sighed and looked toward the window.

The train slowed as they entered the city proper, tooting its arrival horn several times. They disembarked and while Jakira went to the market to sell wares, Rhen went to the delvers guild first to review the delvers looking for different employ.

He sent request messages to each of the candidates he liked, informing them of where to meet that evening to discuss; The Silver Mark. It was a mid-tier inn, not too fancy, but showed Rhen had money. He offered to pay for their night’s stay whether they agreed to join his raid party or not, which should’ve been enough to reel in every one of the prospects for the pitch. He just hoped they’d check their messages daily.

That alone had taken him three hours, and Rhen was getting hungry. He took to the market district, his gaze scanning every face in the crowd as he hunted for Jakira. He found her pitching some of the terrocken claws at a weapon’s dealer and stood back to let her work. After a few minutes of haggling, Jakira got him to buy eight claws for ten marks.

“Want to get something to eat?” He asked.

Jakira jumped, startled, and turned to face him with her hand on her club’s hilt. “Oh, Rhen! You’re done already?”

“I narrowed my search to help ensure we were only getting quality delvers. We need to make a stop at the Silver Mark to reserve several rooms—it was part of the deal I offered the recruits.”

“Yeah, I could definitely eat. This pack is still a bit heavy. I haven’t been as persuasive this trip as I was last…”

“Maybe we should send Aki?”

Jakira laughed. “How would he hold the bag?”

“Good point. Let me take the bag for you,” he offered, reaching out for the pack.

“No, I’m fine.” She grabbed his hand. “So, where’s this inn?”

Rhen looked down at their joined hands, a wave of confusing thoughts washing over him.

Jakira smiled, her cheeks sparkling. It wasn’t the sun making her gold flecks brighter, the haze from Desedra core processing plants had long since blotted that out, so it had to be… embarrassment? She must’ve been worried she’d get lost in the crowd.

Rhen shrugged it off and headed toward the Silver Mark, pulling Jakira along. “It’s just a few blocks this way. I’ve only seen inside once, but it was nice.”

“Will we be able to afford several rooms?”

Rhen dodged some arguing barterers and headed toward the main road. “For one night, yes. But it will be a serious expense. Hundreds of marks.”

“Ouch, what a waste!”

“We have to prove that we have a profitable dungeon, and spending flagrantly is a good way to accomplish that.”

“I guess that’s true. Couldn’t you just offer to buy them all weapons from Wyland? Or something?”

“I needed to prove our profitability before even meeting them, to incentivize them to come. They’ll review my record before coming and see that I just purchased my plot. Sure, they’ll see the dues I’ve paid the D.O.G. and know that there’s some worth, but this will prove our confidence in what’s down there for the raid. Only an absolute fool would spend this much if they didn’t have anything going for them.”

“Okay, you convinced me.”

They finally made it to the road. Rhen released Jakira’s hand and walked beside her. Motorized wagons blasted by, and people on bicycles chimed their warning bells as they passed. He could see most of the downtown buildings—monstrous things that towered hundreds of feet tall, crafted from ore mined in the Desedra dungeon. Rhen yearned to see his own little town flourish outside Zephitz dungeon.

“It’s just up here,” he said, pointing to a long cluster of signs that pointed down the side street that was only for foot traffic.

A vehicle sped by with a loud bang from its anima engine and Jakira jumped, then latched onto Rhen’s arm.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, and released him.

She must’ve been on edge being back in the city, worried whether her old boss would try to pull something shady and get a mark on her record. He grabbed her hand and looped her arm back in his. She smiled up at him, face glowing with gold.

The side alley wasn’t nearly as busy as the market, and Rhen was relieved to be out of the noise. The Silver Mark was a clean building crafted from stone and wood, keeping that rustic look while affording the amenities of the big city, like electricity.

They stepped into the inn, cool air blowing past them into the warm streets. There was a second door, and beyond that, the air was even colder, almost too cold. At the front desk sat a Cadrian man in glasses. He used an anima display pouring from a crystal behind the desk, reviewing patron accounts and daily openings.

“Ah, a room for the happy couple?” he said, lowering his glasses down his nose bridge.

“No!” Jakira pulled her arm out of Rhen’s and took a half step back. “I mean yes, but I need a room for myself.”

Rhen chuckled and approached the counter. “We need several rooms, actually. My name is Rhen Zephitz. I’m a dungeon owner who will be hosting several delvers tonight to discuss raid rates over dinner and a night’s rest.”

The man smiled. “Very good, Mr. Zephitz. Have you stayed with us before?”

“No.”

He turned and picked up the crystal, then placed it on the counter. “Just need to scan your id, and then we can talk rates.”

“Yes, is there a discount for buying several rooms?”

The Cadrian chuckled, his cheeks shimmering gold like Jakira’s did. He cleared his throat and regained his composure. “No sir, I’m sorry but there is not.”

Rhen cringed. That must’ve been a pretty fluffer thing to ask in a place like this. He put his hand on the crystal and the anima flowed into him, activating the syntial on his side. His information displayed a second later and the Cadrian nodded.

Rhen reserved just the two rooms to start, and asked the Cadrian to hold a few until the other delvers arrived. He gave the attendant all the prospects names and asked that he tell them whenever they arrived.

They were shown up two flights to their individual rooms that overlooked a small, fenced in garden with a pond. It was idyllic. No wonder they were a hundred and twenty marks per room. But Rhen didn’t plan on staring at the pond all day, he had contracts to draft up. He didn’t know if he wanted to maintain all the delvers after the raid, so he’d need special paperwork to ensure that once the raid was complete, the delvers were no longer under his employ—unless they all agreed otherwise.

That absolute nonsense took him another two hours, even with a D.O.G. representative helping him. He tipped the rep with five marks, to which she turned her nose up, scoffed, and stormed away. Rhen still wasn’t used to the high-rolling status…

It was closing in on dusk, so Rhen bathed and made himself very presentable with a nice set of clothes. A black button-down shirt that he tucked into black pants, secured by a dark belt with a silver buckle. After smoothing back his curly hair for what felt like the hundredth time, he left his room and walked to Jakira’s.

He knocked on the door. “I’m heading down to the tavern.”

“Oh, wait for me,” she said, excitement muffled by the thick wood door.

There was a bang and an, “Ouch!” then some more ruffling around, until the door opened. Rhen’s jaw dropped. Jakira wore a heavy chainmail shirt over her clothes, a high waisted belt that sported her glowing club prominently, leather leggings with metal guards for her shins and knees, and heavy boots.

She stared at his chest, her mouth agape. “I obviously didn’t understand what dress the part meant!”

She tried to close the door and Rhen stopped her. “No! This is perfect. You look like an experienced bruiser, and I look like an established dungeon owner.” He tugged on the belt holding up his nice pants, then smoothed his tucked-in shirt.

Her cheeks practically glowed. “You really look… different. Like a Desedra.”

Rhen smirked. “You told me you wished I’d change, so, here I am.”

“Yeah, just don’t go acting like a Desedra too, and we’ll be fine. Smelling good suits you, though.”

Rhen grimaced. “Good is in the olfactory of the beholder. I smell like candy.”

She laughed and he stepped out of the doorway to let her out. They walked to the stairs, still chuckling from his stupid joke. Jakira jingled a lot, and her boots clomped like death was coming. She’d certainly give the recruits a fuzzy feeling.

The tavern of the inn was just off the atrium, through a side door. It had a secondary entrance on the street, but this private back entrance gave them access to the exclusive tables. The air was thick with the smell of beer and laughter, the music just getting started.

Rhen hailed a barman as he walked by. “Is anyone waiting for Zephitz?”

He shook his head and moved on.

Rhen shrugged and found his way to one of the open tables for the Silver Mark customers. He and Jakira settled in, ordered a flagon, and waited. After forty minutes, Jakira poured two drinks.

“It’s rude to pour before your guests arrive.”

She rolled her eyes. “They teach you that in delver school?”

“No. My sponsor did.”

“Look, they’re late. That’s rude too.” She pushed his beer across the table and raised her glass to him. “To finding the help we need and blasting open that nexus node to a new realm.”

Rhen raised his glass and took a tiny sip. He was never very fond of beer, nor the aftereffects. Ten minutes later it was apparent Jakira was perfectly fond of it, pouring herself another glass while Rhen nursed his.

“Drink up, we can order more when they get here,” Jakira said with a smile.

Forty more minutes and the barman started getting a glare about him. Jakira’s cheeks were glowing brightly and she started talking about old gossip from when she worked at the Down-N-Out.

Rhen ordered a plate of food to help level her out. The last thing he needed was her telling tales of Rhen’s days sleeping in a room with thirty other dudes. He needed to be a respectable dungeon owner to these prospects.

“Are you listening?” Jakira asked.

Rhen blinked. “No. I’m sorry. I was thinking—

“I don’t think they’re coming.”

“I’m gathering as much too, but why?”

She shrugged, then took another pull from her mug. The flagon was empty.

Rhen stole a bit of bread from her plate, chewing angrily. They were the ones in search of work, and Rhen offered to host them a night in a decent inn, pay for their meals, just to talk… How could they turn down such an offer?

“Do ya think it’s Welsh?” Jakira hiccupped.

“How?” Rhen growled, stuffing more of her food in his mouth.

“What if he, like, told everyone your dungeon isn’t profitable.”

“But anyone would be able to see the dues I pay the D.O.G. and know it’s a lie. I wouldn’t put it past him to try something like that…”

“Whatever it is, it’s scared eeeveryone off. Look, everyone’s been staring at us, but no one is coming over.”

“Because they haven’t been invited. It’s a private table.”

“Hey, hey, I know. What if we just forget the delvers and go to a school! We could become sponsors.”

“I’m not engaging in child slave labor,” Rhen snapped.

Jakira sobered. “I didn’t mean… I meant we could do what your sponsor did. He paid your debt and like, freed you, right? We could do that.”

Rhen was quiet. They were teetering too close to the truth he had to keep buried.

“That’s what happened, right?”

“I asked you not to bring this stuff up. This is not the right time to talk about it.”

“Will you two be wanting anything more, or can you release the table?” the barman asked, holding his hand out for payment.

“Yeah, we’re done.” Rhen pulled out twenty marks and slapped them down on the table, then stood.

“Rhen, I—”

“See you in the morning, Jakira.”

Rhen’s heart pounded in his chest and the blood rushed in his ears, blocking all other sounds. How could she be so ignorant? With her parents’ love, and her obviously sheltered upbringing it was no wonder. She would never understand what it was like.

He stormed into his room and slammed the door. He gritted his teeth, fingers fumbling with the tiny buttons on his shirt.

“Stupid…” he grabbed it by the collar and ripped it off, panting.

His reflection glowered back at him from the mirror at the end of the bed. The light pink scar around his id syntial screamed liar, cheat, and Rhen pushed his palms into his eyes to stop the tears.

“Don’t let’em tell you that you haven’t earned this. You’ve more’n paid your debt to them, to me. You don’t owe nobody nothin.” His voice was calm at the end. How could he have been so calm cutting open his own chest?

Rhen dropped to his knees, the lump in his throat threatening to strangle him. The nexus node was so close, but just out of reach. And it seemed everything he tried to do to left him one step farther away than he was before.

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want you to die!” Rhen heard his little voice echoing in the dark cavern. Tears streamed down his cheeks now just as they had then, hot and fearful.

“Ain’t no stopping my death, but through it, you can have your freedom. You’re strong, Maddox. I know you can do this, son. Show the realms just how great you are.”

Rhen breathed deep and pushed away the tears. He climbed to his feet, looking at his reflection. “Be the man he knew you could be.”

He couldn’t go to a school, he wasn’t old enough yet to go unnoticed there… but maybe there was something else, another way forward. Rhen sniffed back the last of the tears and donned his delving gear.

It was time to expose the devil.