For a thousand miles around, across Generica, the vast city of Kai-Tan was known as the Wicked City.

It was not called the Wicked City for the daemons that moved secretly and in some cases openly through its districts, though there were many of them.

It was not called the Wicked City for its vast slave markets, though they were the largest upon the continent.

It was not called the Wicked City for the brothels and prostitutes that could be found throughout every district in the place, even within the Noble Courts of the Palace of Forbidden Flowers and Moonlight.

It was not called the Wicked City for the greed of its inhabitants, though the lowest of the city spent their huddled nights starving on cold streets far below the spires of the wealthy, who dined from golden plates and thought nothing of wasting thousands of coins for the newest luxury to gain favor and fashion in the realm.

No, though every sin and excess and evil was fully represented in Kai-Tan, Kai Tan was called the Wicked City for one simple reason.

Kai-Tan was entirely without laws.

Kai-Tan had no ruler.

Kai-Tan operated without obedience to the decrees of gods, dragons, daemons, men, elves, dwarves, left-handed beastfolk, or anything in creation.

Nothing was forbidden in Kai-Tan, and so it was called the Wicked City, and had been so for many long centuries.

One might wonder how a city with no laws could continue to exist for any amount of time, let alone centuries.

And that reason was as simple as the blank tablets that the lone statue of a forgotten god of law held forlornly in what had once been the temple district.

Kai-Tan had no laws, but it had understandings.

These understandings were as numerous as they were flexible, and as different as the people who helped spread them.

But no matter how diverse, they always came back to a central tenet.

And that central tenet was that if you displeased those who enforced a particular understandings, then they would harm or even kill you.

One could purchase as many slaves as they desired in Kai-Tan. But if children were sold to you as slaves, well... it was understood that you probably would not make out the gate with your new purchases. Or even back to your quarters, if you looked weak enough.

One could steal without breaking the law in Kai-Tan! But stealing anything of real value, or from someone respected or powerful would lead to swift punishment, in one form or another.

And yes, if someone desired, they could set up in a neighborhood, chalk up as many commandments as they liked on a slate, and set men to enforce the rules. One could even call them laws. But that would only last so long as someone more powerful or with more strong-armed people behind them didn't come in and decide that the rules were bad.

As a note, calling something a law was the surest way to bring down quite a lot of strong-armed people on your head in Kai-Tan. The wise merely called them suggestions, or didn't put out a list at all, merely letting their wishes and whims be known to those they governed or otherwise influenced.

Rich nodded, as Antonic finished his long-winded explanation. “So basically it's anarchy.”

The red-skinned djinn shook his head. “Nothing so simple, effendi. It is the closest thing to Anjuuta's paradise upon Generica. Though it has its flaws and missteps, everyone in this city is free to do as they please... until their actions conflict with the desires of another. Then things must be settled in one fashion or another. And even those settlements may be non-violent. Though violence is always an option, it is rarely the only option.”

Rich cracked his neck. He was in human form again. Pat had cautioned him against traveling the city as a dragon, and Rich had seen wisdom in that advice. “So how safe are we right now? On a scale of one to ten?”

Antonic glanced around the neighborhood that he'd led them into. The streets were full of people traveling through the city, dozens of different species clad in clothing of all styles busy going about their lives. The two of them were drawing little attention; the few glances that came their way studied Antonic, but nobody seemed openly hostile.

Beyond the streets, there were a countless jumble of buildings spilling into one another. The bulk of the architecture looked like old stone, with more modern wood and cloth additions added higgledy-piggledy over an unknown amount of time. On the roof of one flat, wide building Rich saw a number of four-armed, wolf-headed creatures haggling with a dwarven merchant over kegs of something that had to be alcohol. Below them, a tiny pixie kicked her legs out of a crumbling window, waving to passerby and offering the best price for a wingjob. Across the street the raw smell of lye stung his nose, as several humans and a few gnolls churned soap in a large vat.

“I would give it a three,” Antonic said, tugging on his goatee. “Perhaps up to six if we do something stupid. But this is a good district, overall. Doubtless there is drama now and again but the tradesmen and inhabitants are trying to keep it from involving strangers.”

“There was that guy who tried to pick my pocket a few blocks back,” Rich reminded him.

“Well neither of us carry anything that could be stolen, so I do not count that.” Antonic said.

“It's more the principle of the thing.”

Ahead of them, the street cleared. Someone was wailing on a gong for all they were worth, and in a second Rich saw why. A row of chained, dirty people stumbled through, guarded by glaring men wearing black metal armor and curvy swords. A corpulent, frog-like being on a palanquin followed the procession, lashing at them with a whip every time the line of captives slowed.

Absurdly, the creature had a tall, crooked top hat on his head, dyed orange with a crossed set of blue stripes filled with white stars adorning it.

The words above his head read,

Frogert E. Lee - Slavedriver 17

“Speaking of principles,” Rich murmured. “There's absolutely nothing stopping us from killing this guy in the street and freeing his slaves, is there?”

He thought he'd spoken quietly, but the frog-thing's fat head snapped around to glare at him, moving so quickly that its wattles jiggled.

Rich smiled.

The frog's eyes bulged, and he snapped his whip, urging his slaves past faster. The guards arranged themselves between Rich and their merchandise, shifting to cover the rear as the palanquin passed.

“That might be trouble later, effendi,” Antonic mused. “He will remember that.”

“Some of those slaves were wearing clothes made in Turpentine,” Rich said, his gaze not leaving the palanquin. “He's preying on refugees, so I'm half-hoping there will be trouble later.” He closed his eyes. “But only half. After seeing that guy, this anarchy paradise is suddenly a lot less like paradise. You said she's not far from here?”

“Not far at all,” Antonic nodded, relief flooding his face.

The djinn led him to a door. Not a building, just a door, solid charred wood standing on a burned stone foundation.

“There are a lot of people to see this,” Rich said, glancing around at the street traffic. Was it his imagination, or were more people keeping an eye on them after the run-in with the slavers?

“They can watch all they like,” Antonic replied. “My mistress is more than capable of warding off unwanted visitors.”

With that, he rapped his knuckles three times on the door.

“Enter with ease, oh eminent effendis!” Came a woman's voice, cheerful and melodious... and familiar. Very familiar.

The door swung open, revealing shifting clouds that did not match the ruined building behind it at all. Antonic strode in without hesitation, and Rich followed, smiling.

Sure enough, the inside resembled a children's drawing of heaven. Fluffy white clouds roiled underfoot, providing slightly-yielding solid ground, while golden poles held aloft brightly-colored tents and carpets upon which was laid a feast in picnic-form.

And in among the feast, raising a cup of wine to greet him, was a white-haired, blue-skinned creature wearing sheer silks. She was beautiful, and her braided hair blew back and forth randomly, at odds with the gentle breezes that played through the cloudscape.

Most of it was probably illusion, but that was entirely fine. Rich shut the door behind him and joined a kneeling Antonic at the carpet, forgoing a bow and offering a handshake instead. “It's been entirely too long, Aunarox.”

“Effemdi!” Moving with a speed that surprised him, Aunarox was in his arms and hugging the stuffing out of him. There was strength in her that didn't match her appearance, but then, illusions were stock in trade for this particular djinn. “You are much changed. A temporary thing, I hope?”

“It is,” Rich acknowledged. “Aunarox found a skill that lets her share her shapeshifting with me.” And a bit more, he thought, and swiftly suppressed some fairly spicy memories as heat rushed through his body.

“Easier than my method, I suppose. Especially when exploring enclosed environments. Or the shuffling streets of a mysterious metropolis.” Aunarox bounced back to her carpet. “Would you care for some fruit? A viand of fine wine? Flights of self-playing harps to lull you into a much-deserved slumber?”

“What's that saying? No rest for the wicked?” Rich offered a smile, and eased down next to her carpet. He did take some of the fruit, though. Digestion didn't always work well when he swapped between forms, but Generica offered some tastes that he'd never encountered on Earth. So long as he didn't overdo it he probably wouldn't have the shits later.

Antonic took his own place, using flames from his fingers to heat fondue pots and dipping various treats in cheese.

It took about ten minutes of sampling berries and chatting about everything and nothing before Rich managed to turn the conversation towards the matter at hand.

“Antonic tells me you've been in Kai-Tan ever since we parted ways.”

“He is mostly correct. I have spent a few days here and there venturing outside, for errands and reasons of my own.”

“And I trust he's been keeping you up-to-date on what the Scions of Order have been up to?”

“That name...” she sighed. “Anjuuta, my monarch, is an avatar of chaos. Order confines, stagnates, drains the joy of spontaneity from life.”

“It's what you make of it. Right now it's more about equality, respect, and trying to stop people from oppressing us.”

“And what will you do when it demands more? When it demands that you become the tyrants, to replace those you throw down?” Anjuuta twisted some of her hair between her fingers, as she considered Rich.

“You know... we passed a line of slavers on the road outside.”

Her face twisted with distaste.

Rich continued. “This is probably the most chaotic city in the world. Yet what does it say about chaos, that even in this place, you get people who use their strength to oppress the weak and enslave refugees because there is no law to stop them?”

“There are plenty of slavers in far more lawful cities, as well,” Aunarox muttered. But she twisted her hair around even more, before sighing. “It is the nature of mortals to ever be between the two philosophies, one supposes. Only as we gain the power to control our own fate, do we gain the freedom to devote ourselves to one or the other.”

She studied him, then smiled. “So long as you remain loyal to Anjuuta, I need not fear that you shall fall to blandness. And by proxy, I suppose that your Scions of... Order... shall not commit sins that lead our lady to cast you out.”

Rich nodded. “Good to know. Also it hasn't missed my notice that you went a long way to avoid answering that question. Antonic has been watching my guild for you, hasn't he?”

“Have I ever stated that he was not?” she raised a white eyebrow.

Behind her, Antonic tensed, just a bit.

“No you haven't, and that's fine. We needed to keep a channel open. And I'm aware of how you were treated the last time you had to work in close proximity to players. Nobody wants you to risk that sort of disrespect again.”

“Then we understand one another.”

“Understand and condone it, sure. And the fact is, we could use your help. You've spent half a year here, more or less. We're relatively new arrivals.”

She smiled. “How lucky... that is what I would say if luck had anything to do with it. But we know better, yes? This is fate: nothing more and nothing less. The universe has maneuvered you to where I am strongest, and this is the place I felt compelled to go, when I sought ways to aid you from afar.”

Rich didn't tell her that it was a bit less mysterious than that. The resistance had kept tabs on her, and her growing influence in Kai-Tan was one of the positive factors that weighted the final decision. Flower words about fate were more compelling than the graphs and charts that Pat had drawn up to convince the rest of the council that this was the best way.

“Then you'll help us?”

“Of course!” her grin was brilliant and white against her robin's egg blue skin. It disappeared as quickly as it came. “Though you have more of a challenge on your hands than you expect, I think. You are not the only ones who have allies operating in this city. Your foes have not been idle, and unlike your Scions of... Order... they have quite a few more resources and assets to play with.”

“So they're here too.”

“They are. You mentioned slavers, earlier. Were they by chance wearing orange with stars somewhere about?”

“They were. This is part of a bigger group, then?”

“Slavery was fading here since my arrival, thanks in no small part to my humble efforts. However, two months ago, a group arrived in town. A player-led group, and rumor has it that they are a guild. They call themselves the Dixie Normus.”

Rich snorted. “They sound like they're a bunch of asshole kids.”

“Whatever they are, they recruited many brigands and thugs to their side. Alas, my own efforts to discourage slavery were pushed aside, as they revitalized the market. And the messages I have intercepted indicate that they have support from the East. I think you can draw the conclusions that I have drawn without too much more effort, eh?”

“Oh yeah. This has the Bharstool Warmers' fingerprints all over it.”

“Fingerprints?”

“A thing from my world. Don't sweat it.”

“Sweat? No, sweating is for people who lack servants and must resort to working for a living. My true talents lie elsewhere.” There was that ivory grin again. “Namely, in consorting with people you should be cutting deals with, and identifying foes to bamboozle and vex in order to achieve your goals.”

“So we can count on your help?”

“Of course, effendi! But it will take some time to discuss how that help will manifest. Here.” She snapped her fingers, and a stone wall arose out of the clouds, displaying many, many metal plaques and golden engraved lines tracing between them. It was a daunting tangle, and just looking at it, Rich knew this would be a complicated headache.

“We start our discussion with the esteemed noble family of Pook, who manage most, but not all of the city's profitable dairy trade—”

“I'm sorry,” Rich interrupted. “But I'm the wrong person to hear this. Now that I know you're on board, we can bring Pat and the other plotters and planners to see you. Or you could go to them, whichever you prefer.”

She didn't respond immediately, and he glanced over to see a firm frown on those dark blue lips.

“What's wrong?”

“I think you are the correct person to decide this, Richard. It is by your claw that you have gathered your guild. It is from your work, that we stand a chance at stopping the thing that plans to overwhelm and overrun two worlds. You are the catalyst. I do not serve your guild because of Pat, or the others, or any other player. You are the one who must rise to glory, and become a dragon king.”

“I met one of those not long ago,” Rich murmured. “His house was fallen, his daughters dead. With nothing to lose and everything to gain, he could not forgo his pride and render us more than the merest sliver of aid. I do not want to be a dragon king, if that's what it entails. Glory is no use if everyone you care about dies at the hands of your enemies.”

She considered him, and her hair was the only part of her that moved, the unceasing invisible winds working their magic upon it. “Very well. You are not yet ready for your throne, I understand. Not all kings are created equal, oh man of two souls. You may achieve both goals, if you but try.” Her frown disappeared. “I shall then work with your friends. I shall go to visit them, as their coming here would draw attention of the improper sort. But I ask that you do not remove yourself entirely from the intrigue. There is much to be done, and the best results may only come with personal attention.”

Rich closed his eyes in relief. “I can do that. Ah... listen. Two more things. Have you learned anything more of draggits? They did something a while ago. Something happened there, probably a millennia or two in the past.”

“You are concerned for your servant? That does you credit. Alas, the lore of the djinn extends a mere eight hundred and nine years. Before then we were not present in this realm.”

“Damn. Worth a shot. If you hear anything, please let me know.”

“Of course. Is there anything else, oh wise wyrm?”

“Don't let Rotgoriel hear you talking about us that way... um... yes. Yes there is. Midian. Do you remember her?”

Instantly Aunarox sat up, and she drew a loud breath through her nose. “Are you mocking me, effendi?”

“No! No, why would I do that?”

Aunarox snapped her fingers at the stone wall, and a plaque glowed. The plaque in question was silver, and read “Midian – Chronomancer 25.” Gold lines stretched from it to quite a few of the other plaques. Her plaque wasn't central in the design, but it was close.

“Holy shit,” Rich murmured.

“Are you still of a certainty that you wish me to speak with Pat, and not yourself, oh startled seeker?”

“I—” Rich never finished the sentence, as words popped up in front of him.

Incoming Message From: Patrick Bayer

>>We may have found a breach. Need you at HQ ASAP.

“No. There's no time. But if you come with me now, you can bring Pat and the others up to speed on her.” Rich said, climbing to his feet. “I'm sorry to be rude, but we might just have gotten a step closer to saving the world.”