Over the next few hours, Myles learned quite a few things about his teammate.

Before the run, Tail’s Class had been [Bane Bearer], a Class from the creature of the same name. Though they wouldn’t admit to being the prospective bride or groom, the story was just so unbelievable. What was described to Myles was very, very hard to see from the soft spoken Korgan. The idea of Tail doing more than a hit and run seemed so out of character let alone hearing the tale of them actually tearing into a Beastkin warrior whose name they conveniently forgot to mention, making them give up the arrangement formally by way of combat, and having to regrow their fur in the span of an hour just seemed so… strange.

Tail even alluded to burning down part of the village due to their Class’s issues during combat. He just had such a hard time wrapping his head around it. Then again, Korgans didn’t choose their Class either. They were born with into it.

The rest of the story dealt with their trial by the clan, surviving their exile, relying on odd jobs and the kindness of townsfolk, finding their way to the floating city of the grand dungeon, and ending with the passing of the Trials.

Within the telling of the tale, Tail confirmed what Myles suspected. They had been suffering from Korgan Wasting Disease due to Class incompatibility. Thankfully, theirs had been isolated to exposed skin rather than organs or muscles, but even the minor versions of the affliction couldn’t be ignored. Without their family to rely on, Tail had to cut back on their treatments due to dwindling funds which resulted in the serious number of lesions and mana burns on their skin. For his own piece of mind, Tail assured him that they were healing properly.

Still even as Myles spent his time learning more about Tail, he couldn’t ignore the thoughts of Sellia bubbling back to the surface, the good and the bad. There were times he felt that Tail stopped to give him time to process, but the stops were at odd points, points that didn’t make sense to stop at naturally, as if they could feel through the link as Myles could.

Sometimes, Myles had to remind himself that Tail wasn’t Sellia in disguise somehow. That didn’t help things. In a low key, almost insidious way, Tail’s power actually made him pause in a way no sword, spell, or book ever could.

Still, the hours passed by in a pleasant way. When it came time to eat and Myles offered to cook, Tail declined the offer and instead offered him some rations. Myles accepted, and it was his turn to tell the stories of how he came to be in the grand dungeon.

His story wasn’t nearly as exciting or open ended as Tail’s had been though. Myles still had his father at home, cheering him on. His mother had passed years past. He had no siblings, few friends he really missed outside of a blacksmith he knew by the name of Kain, and how he developed his intense distaste for mimics inside the first Trial.

For one reason or another, that was the crust that dulled the knife for Tail’s patience.

“Not every chest needs to be checked,” Tail commented after Myles explained the intense scrutiny he gave the suspicious treasure boxes.

Myles gave them a strong, stern look at that comment. “I’ve been attacked by chests and a dragon’s horde at this point. I think I’ve earned every reason I need to check chests if I feel like it.”

Tail’s cheeks rose into what Myles had come to know as the Korgan’s smirk. “I think you may have a complex.”

Ashra cut off Myles response bluntly. “He does.”

“Traitor.”

The Monsterkin felt amused at the intent, but not at the word itself. That soured her mood just a bit, but she said nothing else. There wasn’t much to tell after he’d encountered Ashra, and the group knew that story already.

Time passed and before they knew it, it was time for the town meeting.

***

On the way to the meeting, Myles, Tail, and Ashra ran into the rest of their team. Apparently, Myles was the only one that didn’t know about the meeting tonight. He wished that they got updates for the town like they did for quests. Maybe that was something he could bring up with…

“We will do no such thing.” Ashra said firmly across their connection. “The last time you suggested something, we were put on watch by Sindra. I do not like being watched, Myles.”

Myles nodded to himself and sighed. I know. I know. Trust me, I still regret that.

“I do no regret who we have met, but I understand your meaning.”

With the entire team together, Myles couldn’t ignore how much stronger their empathic connection had become. Despite it being a simple meeting on tactics, he felt a strong feeling of excitement from everyone, and now, he could feel the reasoning behind that emotional connection.

Lyna was excited about the new challenge set before her. She wanted to prove herself and try to win glory for her and her people.

Kendra was much the same but despite being the [Berserker] of the group, was more subdued than Lyna. She had learned from her last mistake, and Myles felt she wanted to take it slow.

Will was ready to test himself against something greater, but he had an undercurrent of worry the others didn’t.

Tail…

Well, Tail was there and still felt excited as the others, but they seemed to be more excited about just being with everyone. They had no outward show of emotion other than that tail of theirs, and even that was subdued compared to most Korgan and their canine Beastkin counterparts.

Before more than formalities could be exchanged between the allies, a voice boomed across the air and silenced the rest.

“Good evening!” Sindra called, appearing on her stoop rather than the balcony as she had last time. Despite being lower than before, she was still high enough to be easily seen and identified by the masses.

Tonight, she wore what Myles best described as a uniquely fitted piece of half-plate. Her chest and the side opposite her blade, her dominant side he assumed, from thigh to arm were covered in scales of solid metal that gleamed all its own with a slightly glittering, blueish glow.

Outside the door, Sindra waited for a few moments, expecting some sort of response. It never came in the volume she expected though, and after a slightly awkward pause, Sindra continued.

“Well, as you know, I’ve called everyone here to discuss two main issues. The first and more immediate issue being dungeon etiquette.” Myles suddenly felt a cold glare turned his way and found the ground much more interesting for the next few moments. “Now, we’ve had a few issues lately, and I want to make sure that it doesn’t cause any more issues than it already has.”

A gentle rumble of noise moved through the crowd at that, but only a single set of eyes turned to give Myles a second glance.

“She is talking about you.”

Us. Myles corrected, ignoring that Ashra had mirrored his thoughts.

“You took Silpha from the dungeon, not us.”

He ignored the smugness at the correction as Sindra continued.

“— and as the Run continues, the dungeons will become the source of many of our resources including meat and some rarer greens since we don’t have a [Farmer] beyond our local [Alchemist]. I’m sure everyone noticed that in previous Runs, the teams did their best not to shiver the dungeons. We will have the traders coming in and out every two weeks, but we can’t rely on them for everything.”

There was a mumble of agreement, and Myles was among them. He knew what happened in the later days of the Sixth Run, and the dungeon no longer allowed the outsiders in once they reached the halfway point. Outside of the small care packages being delivered via magical gateway every fourteen days, they’d become totally self-reliant. Knowing what he knew about Sindra as well, it didn’t surprise him in the least she was already planning for the long term.

“Now, we need to conserve as many of the dungeons in the forest, tundra, and swamp as we can specifically for our food. They drop the most edible loot and are important for that. Well, that and the other loot. If you get the chance to find the tundra’s hot spring dungeon, it’s well worth the relaxation time you get when you clear it. It’s about three hours for those curious from clearing the guardian to first re-spawn. Where was I…” Sindra asked herself as she tapped her chin, seemingly lost in her tangent for a moment. “Oh! Now, the resources! The Ocean will reproduce faster than we can drain them, so that region isn’t a worry. Now, I know you won’t like this, but for the foreseeable future drops from these dungeons and their regions classified as town necessities will be automatically taxed at a set rate and sent directly to the town treasury. I think it’s at a third?” She looked to someone behind her within the manor and nodded. “Right, a third. This will not include weapons, armor, and the like, just foodstuffs and herbs. I don’t know about you, but being the leader of a party already puts enough stress on me. I don’t need to worry about rationing weapons to the city; I do want to make sure we’re all fed though. Now, are there any questions?”

That… didn’t sit well with many, and bubbles of anger welled up in a few groups of Runners.

Myles wasn’t sure whether it was the fact they were being taxed or that their loot was being taken without their consent. In the end, there really wasn’t much different. One group, a team of Dwarves from their stoutness and beards, challenged her.

“What if we don’t want chu to ration what we earn?” the thickly-accented dwarf that Myles assumed to be the leader of their group called out. “I don’t want some prissy-namby-pampy weakling to take what mah clansmen have earned! It’s survival here, not some game no matter how they dress it up. We can’t have dead weight.”

There was a roll of agreement from some groups while others inched away from the six Dwarves. Myles could feel the tension suddenly rise as Sindra’s smile grew cold. Her pixie-like nature seemed to steel as she took a step forward, flanked on either side by Mitchell and another person Myles hadn’t met yet. From the way he was dressed in fur lined, green-white robes, Myles had to assume it was their healer.

By the time Sindra and her crew reached the Dwarves, the crowd had expanded to create an impromptu arena showing the group of six Dwarves facing down a partial party of Sindra’s Seekers.

Myles could practically touch Ashra’s combat instinct and had to work to keep it from overtaking him. The emotional weight was in full swing as she observed, filling their link with a mix of excitement, curiosity, and respectful fear. Ashra felt as though something was about to happen, but Myles wasn’t so sure.

“Dane and his Brothers from Copperforge?” Sindra asked as she settled in within a sword’s swing of the other group. Her voice didn’t change, nor did she seem angry, but there was still a noticeable chill within it.

“That’d be us,” Dane confirmed as he looked up into Sindra’s face.

“So, you’re saying that the injured are dead weight?”

“We’re only as strong as our weakest…”

She cut him off with a motion of her hand. “So those injured defending the city last week shouldn’t have been cared for?”

Dane seemed taken off guard by that. “Warriors deserve ta be returned ta the fight for the service they render.”

“Ah,” Sindra smiled, giving him a small nod of acceptance as she tapped her chin in thought. She seemed to consider her words carefully for a moment, and then… “That makes sense. You must mean the merchants and craftsmen then since they aren’t fighting?”

Dane tapped his war hammer’s base on the ground with a crack. “Aye!”

Another agreement went up from the Dwarves and a few other groups, and Sindra simply listened.

Sindra nodded again as Dane ranted, still smiling. From his place on the edge of the ring, even Myles could see the darkness creep into her gaze.

Even without Ashra’s instinct, he knew Dane had walked into a trap.

“So, you want those that make our weapons and armors, our healing potions, salves, antidotes, and scripts onto the battlefield because they aren’t carrying their weight?”

Dane realized it a moment too late and was back on the defense before he knew it. “Don’t cha make it sound like that. You’re twistin’ mah words!”

Sindra looked to Mitchell. “Am I twisting them, Mitchel?”

Mitchel shrugged his shoulders, showing empty hands to her and the Dwarves. “It didn’t sound like that to me. He said they were dead weight.”

Sindra gave the Dwarves her chilled smiled as she answered. “No, I don’t think I did. It sounds like I understand you just fine, Dane.”

The party of Dwarves began to circle closer, and some Runners began to press in towards Sindra’s Seekers. A hand from the woman held them at bay as she bade them to speak.

“They charge us, and we have ta feed them too?” another dwarf added. “It ain’t right for them ta double their shares while we patron ‘em!”

“He is an idiot.”

Myles nodded his head in agreement. There were few people you never bothered in a city, and the craftsmen were chief among them.

Despite Myles own hesitations about the argument, Sindra gave Dane pause and seemed to consider that. “So, you feel that they should give their hard work? That they should only trade their goods for food or supplies when gold is so much easier for you to come by? Their hard work isn’t enough to earn them a meal in hard times like everyone else when they can’t defend themselves properly, but provide you with your armor, your hammer’s repairs?”

“You’re twistin’ them again.”

“No,” Sindra answered coldly. “I don’t think I am. We own Runner’s Plaza, not you, Dane. The best way to pull out of this and survive is to keep everyone safe, fed, and working, whether you see them as dead weight or not. Dwarves may be scholars as much as warriors, but you’re an embarrassment to your people. Kess needs heroes, not people like you.”

“You dare…!”

A crack echoed across the plaza as her open hand connected with his exposed cheek, sending him reeling to the side and into the stone pavers. His teammates cried out and were at his side in a moment, two attempting to heal and rouse him while the other three drew their hammers.

Dane was silent as stone.

That silence was deafening the Runners as Sindra looked at her hand hanging where it had collided with the Dwarf, seemingly surprised with the force she had behind it, before slipping it back to her side. It was well hidden, but Myles’s eyes were harder to fool by the day with Ashra’s instincts behind his observations.

Another moment passed.

And another.

And another.

Then, a quiet voice cracked the ice of the silent.

“I dare,” Sindra said quietly, almost to herself as she took her eyes off her hand and returned the steel into her gaze. She spoke to no one in specific, but the message her words carried was heard by all as it rose in tone to match her authority. “Take him from here. When he is healed, remove yourselves from Runner’s Plaza. We work together, or we don’t work at all.”

This silence didn’t last as long.

“Our home…!” another dwarf dressed in green protested, only to be cut off again.

“Will be refunded from our stores. When you clear an area to establish, you may live there and build as you see fit. I warned you before what would happen if you threatened other Runners,” Sindra explained coldly, the pixie-ish smile out of place with the harshness of her words. Without missing a beat, she turned to the two at her sides. “Mitchel, Rinas, see that they do not cause trouble until then.”

“Got it, Boss,” Mitchel replied, holding his hand to his chest.

Sindra sighed. “Yes is fine, Mitchel.”

Seemingly embarrassed, Mitchel rubbed the back of his head. “Right, sorry, Boss.”

She sighed again and returned through the crowd. “Sindra.”

“Right.”

No one questioned her as she returned to the stoop. The steel seemed to disappear like ashes cleaned from an oven the moment she turned back to face the crowd. Her smile was warm once more and her face soft as goose down. “Right! Now, there is a bit more to discuss tonight…”

***

“We really had to have a meeting about that?” Myles asked as his team walked from the Plaza back towards the center of town. In his hand, he still held their part of the plan, their role to fill — support.

“We did,” Will confirmed, excitement long since extinguished from the level of detail, or lack thereof, Sindra’s plan entailed for their group. “We all need to be on the same page even if it’s just learning our role in it.”

“It’s still better than Kendra’s plans, ya?” Lyna asked smugly.

“As far as we know,” Kendra said, keeping the annoyance from her voice, but not from the empathic link to Myles.

“There’s more to it,” Will said bluntly. “It only makes sense we aren’t privy of it. She did keep five teams behind.”

Six, if Myles included her own. From what he’d gathered, the teams were Sindra’s Seekers, The Clan, Elementals of Wrath, Felfolk, Shard Warriors, and Kinkeepers. The first two he’d known personally, but the rest were a bit more… unique.

Elementals of Wrath were all half elementals. With little effort, he learned Bernard Stoker, ironically a half fire elemental [Pyromancer], had all just fallen in together during the fight with Gregor. His team was rounded out by Shale, their [Geomancer] front-liner, Mista, their [Hydromancer] specializing in healing, Gale, their [Aeromancer], and Bob, a [Druid]. If it wasn’t for Bob, Myles would have almost assumed their names were some sort of sick joke the universe played on them all. It still could have been, really.

Felfolk were a group of Felkin women and a human. Myles tried to learn more about their leader Matthew, but no one really knew much about him. His Felkin allies were clearly warriors and mages, but according to what he could gather and what Ashra picked up on, he was more of a buffer, and his abilities only worked on those around him, keeping him off the front line. No one knew the Class name, but Myles figured Matthew had to be a [Paragon] or some other rare class.

Shard Warriors were more typical. They favored offense heavily though. Even their front liner was a heavy damage dealer called a [Shadow Assassin]. Apparently, the abilities favored being a glass cannon, and the Class could leave trapped illusions of themselves for the enemy to strike, making them not only mobile but a huge threat on the battlefield. He couldn’t get their names, but he did notice Dahom among them.

Kinkeepers were the least secretive of them all, even compared to Elements of Wrath and The Clan. All four of them were [Alchemists] that apparently dominated the battlefield when given the chance and readily shared their craft drinks. Apparently, they owned the Runner’s Stop, the plaza’s only tavern. In fact, they seemed to know everyone. Myles watched as they stopped and talked to nearly every group along the way to Sindra. His group seemed to be an exception, but since he never went into town unless he had to, it made sense.

As Myles learned, the only reason he hadn’t seen them during the fight with Gregor was that they didn’t have enough components for more than their basic strength vials, but each one had their own specialty. Moa, a Dryad of all things, could shift her form through various shifter potions. Dune, a male Felkin with fur the color of sand, made various explosive and gas based bombs. Rya, a Naiad, specialized in healing potions with side bonuses. Myles also noted she was one of the people he’d seen running the potion shop the few times he visited recently. Lastly, there was Resilience, another Runner from the southern isles of Kess who specialized in, of course, elixirs that protected the body and mind.

Together, those teams seemed impossible to take down, and it was no wonder Sindra gathered them for the front line charge. He also noted they were all teams from the leader board at the center of town.

“We will keep the routes open and protect the others,” Ashra explained, breaking Myles from his thoughts. “There is no shame in being where you are needed more than you want to be.”

Myles raised a brow at those words. I know you want to fight.

“Badly, but we are not suited for taking down such a foe on our own. Even if we are only part of a group to defeat the king, it is an honor.”

Myles nodded at that. It did line up with her thoughts on Shardking. “I doubt it will be easy though. We’ve all seen the recaps of that fight, right?”

“We’re going to have our hands full where we’re at,” Kendra agreed before turning to Tail and Will. She looked like she was about to say something but stopped herself and turned to Myles. “What do you think?”

“Go into the buildings as a last resort, stick to the streets and take advantage of the cover we can find,” he said, hoping his allies would agree. “The Shardking summons a horde to the shadows. The Runs always lose teams to the buildings.

Will nodded in agreement. “True enough. The larger the area, the stronger the elite or rare monster it can spawn.”

“Anyone remember how many it calls?” Myles asked the group as they passed the crossroads.

“The most anyone’s ever documented is fifteen,” Tail replied. “No one knows the limits, but it’s never been more than fifteen when there hasn’t been a puzzle summoning or arrival summoning. Since no one’s found a keystone and we know that the gate’s been found, we have to assume it will be the summoner spawn.”

Myles nodded in agreement then turned to Lyna, who had been uncharacteristically quite through the entire exchange. “Lyna? Anything to add?”

Lyna was quiet, her eyes locked on the distance as she continued to not miss a step.

“Lyna?” Myles repeated, placing a hand on her shoulder and stopping the group.

That seemed to snap her out of whatever thought she was in, and Lyna’s attention came back to the task at hand. “Sorry. Got lost in the mines.”

“It’s fine,” he assured. It didn’t take an empathic link to see the distant expression still on her face, so Myles thought about the day’s events, when she went quiet, and nearly smacked himself as he sought out their link for confirmation. “You’re worried about Dane’s team?”

She shook her head, sidestepping a direct answer. “I’m worried about us. I can see what Sindra’s trying to do, but her methods bother me.”

There was a feeling of agreement throughout the group, but no one dared to verbalize anything stone solid. Sindra’s people, for the most part, were good people, and Myles couldn’t see them being some tyrannical force. Despite his feelings towards Mitchel and his short time with Sindra, he couldn’t deny the body that had been so still on her doorstep by her own hand. “You really think we need to worry?”

The long pause from Lyna told him all he needed to know, but after a few more moments, she spoke anyways.

“I dunno, Myles,” came the hesitant reply. “It’s what she’s not saying that worries me. It’s how she’s staying it. She’s a [Strategist], ya?” Myles nodded. “Have you ever seen a time when a [Strategist] is caught off guard at their own meeting?”

“You think she set it up?” Will asked, coming to the conclusion a few moments before Myles.

Lyna didn’t answer immediately, choosing her words carefully before she spoke again and growing the seed of worry she’d planted among the group. As she began, her voice grew softer in time and more serious than any of them had ever heard from the wild Halfling. “I wish I knew, but we need to stay out of her way.”

Whether out of respect for the Halfling’s words, the somber nature of the night’s events, or the fact no one wanted to admit to that, the walk back to Myles’s home for dinner was as quiet as the Dane.