They found a depression at the foot of a cliff, tucked away behind a thicket. Silas dropped the ratman on a long slab of stone and turned to Bandit. “Stay here and make sure he doesn’t wake up and run off. I’ll be back in a bit.”

The owl hooted and clicked its tongue in warning. It spread its wide wings and made a flapping motion, the beats causing the wind to sweep the dust off the ground.

“I know, but I need to make sure it’s actually a burrow there. It might just be the ratkin you saw were gathering for another reason.”

It shook its head, squawking once more before walking over to the unconscious ratman. It scratched the pebbles from the dirt and made itself a comfortable seat, before squatting down.

“Yeah, of course,” Silas said, disappearing through the thicket after a moment. Journeying on, he had to hide often as the number of vermin in the forest exploded, but there were plenty of trees and bushes for cover so he never found himself in a helpless situation. His pace gradually slowed and eventually came to a stop when he reached roundabout where the ratman had told him to go.

Since it was likely that the ratkin had already taken all the nearby vantage points, he clambered up a giant tree instead to get a view of his surroundings, leaving his spear in nearby bushes to free up both of his hands. It took him five minutes to climb high enough to make out the supposed burrow. He couldn’t see it directly, but he discerned a suspicious squat structure built into a hill, two dozen ratkin standing guard outside, including two sorcerers. Silas stayed and watched for half an hour, spotting several groups of ratkin going in and out of this structure during the period.

Near certain then that his hunch was correct, he was about to come down when he heard a group of ratkin closing in on his position. Several had peacefully passed by during his reconnaissance, so he had stopped tensing up after the third instance, but this particular group seemed to be coming directly for him.

However, it turned out he was wrong as they stopped a dozen metres away, near the bushes where he had dumped his spear, and chattered amongst themselves. “I swear I saw something shining here,” one of them said, digging its hands into the bushes and swiftly emerging with Silas’s spear. “See, I told you. Look at the glint on this spear. That’s a hundred credits from all of you.”

“Fuck, thought you were full of shit again,” said another ratman with a drawn-out groan.

“I’ve never talked shit,” the first one replied, before inspecting the spear closer. “Huh, looks like one of them tutorial weapons. Wonder what’s it doing here.”

“Could be from a mushroom zombie - they’re the only ones who can hide from our scans anyway,” came in a third voice, a commanding one. “Search for their tracks right now - they could be heading straight for the burrow.”

Meanwhile, Silas had descended some ways down the giant tree until he was only a twenty-metre drop from the ground. He spied on the group of ratkin around his spear and saw there were six of them in total, all armoured but with no sorcerers in their midst. He could have continued to hide there and let them leave with his spear, but at the same time that would impair his combat ability if he had to fight on his way out. Although his sword was an excellent weapon, he was still far more skilled with his spear, the weapon he had used daily for near two months now.

It was for this reason that Silas slid the rest of the way down the tree, his boots scraping against its bark and warning the ratkin of his coming, before he leapt the remaining distance down. He sprinted their way at once, flourishing his sword, and they rushed into a defensive formation, hurrying to get their shields from their backs. The two foremost ratkin had just pushed their shields in front when he slashed sideways in a wide arc, his sword splitting their shields without effort. He reversed the direction and slashed again, this time shearing their upper bodies off their figures.

A ratman thrust at him with a spear, but Silas cut through its shaft and flicked his sword against the ratman’s head, cleaving from its chin to its forehead. Seeing this, the other ratman going for him reconsidered suddenly and tried to back away, but to no avail as Silas beheaded it in its moment of hesitation. As expected, the two remaining ratkin tried to run away from Silas, but he chased them down and butchered them too. It was a one-sided slaughter, and Silas moved swiftly once all his enemies were cut down, methodically flicking the blood off his sword and sheathing it: it had performed even better than he had imagined, cutting through armour and shields like a hot knife through butter.

Next, he picked up his spear and made a run for it, knowing that other ratkin would swarm this spot very soon. Considering their scanning spell could tell the positions of their enemies, it was likely it tracked allies as well, and a group of ratkin disappearing instantaneously a few minutes away from their burrow would attract a great deal of attention. This meant that his usual tactic of hiding and waiting when he spotted roaming ratkin would only work against him now since it could very well risk him being surrounded by hundreds of ratkin.

As such, he instead opted to sprint and kill, dashing at an alarming speed and spearing through any ratmen that tried to stop him. Fortunately, since his mana barrier was still up, it meant they couldn’t track his location and could only guess at it by reports from their on-field troops. This made it difficult for them to close their grip on him and allowed him to return to the cliffside depression with little difficulty. Bandit relaxed at his appearance, although it tensed right after when it saw his fearsome expression.

“Bandit, can you carry this ratman all the way back to Riverside?” he asked, moving to lift the still unconscious ratman.

The owl paused for a moment, blinking thoughtfully before nodding.

“Good, here take him. I’ve really raised their alarm now, so just go hand this guy to Elise and stay there. I’ll follow shortly. And remember, stay out of sight, otherwise the sorcerers will try and shoot you down.” He helped Bandit close its talons around the ratman’s shoulders and watched as the owl lifted off, streaking off into the distance in a matter of seconds.

Silas nodded at the sight and prepared for his own getaway, creeping out of the thicket and making for mycelia territory. He didn’t know how hard the ratkin would look for him, but whatever the case, he knew they were wary about leaving the safety of their watchtower-protected grounds and entering the fungal lands, so he intended to use that as his escape route. Since he had already made note of the borders earlier, he found it easy to return and sneak past the watchtower.

Although it was still a forest, it was clear that this was mycelia-owned land since there were brightly coloured toadstools and mushrooms all over the place, tree bark spotted with regions of ashy mildew and dark, wet sludges across the forest floor. The air here also tasted tangy and sour, which he figured was because of the fungal spores floating in the wind. Compared to the ratkin, the mycelia had few groups patrolling the area, so he was easily able to make ground, although he suspected that they were willingly letting him pass through as they made no motions to stop him, even when he was near-certain they knew of his presence.

He was only some miles from leaving mycelia territory and re-entering the Riverside’s communication range when this all changed and he sensed a fungal person quickly closing in on him. It dashed towards him, nimbly leaping across the undergrowth and bouncing off trees. Although this flared up Silas’s heartbeat, it didn’t truly frighten him since it was evident from a glance that he was still faster. With that, he was about to throw all notion of stealth out of the window and sprint again when suddenly his pursuer yelled out. “Wait, good human. I mean you no harm.” Its voice was soft, but clear and carrying.

This made Silas glance back once more where he saw the fungal person had stopped and raised their open hands to show they held no weapons. There was a longbow strapped to their back, and a belt with daggers around their waist. They looked similar to the mycelia Silas had seen earlier, only with less disconcerting features. Their frame was exactly that of a satyr’s with defined hooves and distinct fungal horns on their humanoid build. Their face also had functional organs now: a mouth, nose, ears, and eyes that appealed to him. Most notably, its skin wasn’t holey and splotched with various colours like its kin, instead a smooth ashy green which covered its lightly armoured body.

“Stay where you are and say what you want. One step forward, and I’m gone,” Silas replied, warily scanning his surroundings to make sure this wasn’t all a distraction for its allies to sneak up on him. He was only giving it this opportunity as it didn’t appear as alien as its kin, making him somewhat more comfortable in its presence.

“As you wish,” the fungal satyr said. “Might I ask for your name, good human?”

“It’s only right you say yours first,” Silas replied. In truth, he didn’t care much for its name, only that he didn’t intend on giving his over to this creature.

“Of course, but I am sure you have heard of me already. You were allied with the local Order of Tyr settlement here, no?” When he didn’t answer, it continued on unfazed. “They call me the Rooted Prophet. And as they have zealously tried to eradicate me for the last few decades, I would imagine that they only spoke ill of me.”

Silas raised his eyebrow at this, recalling that Kore had indeed mentioned the prophet by name in his letter, going on to say it wasn’t to be trusted under any circumstances. His reaction must have confirmed the prophet’s fears since it went on. “Alas, were they not the ones to betray you? Have you not already suffered much in trusting their word and their promises?”

Clicking his tongue, Silas was beginning to get impatient. Every moment he spent here only increased the potential danger he was in. “Get straight to the point, or I’m gone.”

“As you wish, good human. You and I both have a common enemy in the ratkin, and so I propose an alliance between our factions to see them exterminated.”

This gave Silas a strong feeling of déjà vu, making him smirk as he remembered Kore had proposed a near-identical alliance on their first meeting. But he wasn’t as naïve as he was back then, nor as powerless to be forced to accept it on the spot. “Listen, I can’t give you an answer, but I’ll pass word along to my mayor.”

“That will serve - I am grateful,” the fungal satyr said. “Your way is clear. You may leave now.”

The Duellist nodded and was gone immediately, looking over his shoulders one last time to note the creature turning around and leaving in the opposite direction. And, indeed like it had said, he didn’t see anymore more fungal creatures on his way out, as if they had all been ordered to move out of the area for him. Either way, it made Silas’s escape easier since he no longer had to hide, and he was soon on his way to Riverside again.

He reached the township a day later and told of everything that had transpired to Elise, in addition to anything else he thought she should know. Of course, he could have hidden the mycelia’s request for an alliance, especially given his general disgust at most of the ones he had seen, but he ultimately chose to tell her just in case it helped her somehow. He was confident that she wasn’t naïve enough to simply accept it, but perhaps she could use it to gain an advantage over the mycelia. Just as the Order had used their alliance to station troops in the heart of Riverside, perhaps the same could be done to the mycelia’s base to cripple them from within.