Stabilization magics evened out this manasteed’s gallops to a comfortable waving rhythm which Isen could ignore. Getting to this point had taken half a decade of ranking up his Mount Mastery passive; training sessions at the Royal Manasteed Guild had eaten most of his weekly allowance—well worth the cost, just as Father had advised. With advanced 3 Mastery, one could traverse all of Cyesten from east to west and back again within three days, assuming favorable weather and no troubles along both ways. Unlike now.

This full-sized party had ran into aggressive elementals several times, as if the dark gods thought this were funny. Much may be on the line, for every time they had to break invisibility, a bandit scout may just be watching from afar, behind one of those rock arches and pillars, or even in plain sight, hidden by one of many invisibility skills. There were, in Isen’s opinion, too many invisibility skills. Certain monster races had innate Stealth abilities, and Isen knew this all too well from his low-tier dungeon runs.

A blue outline of a horse’s head entered Isen’s field of view, a flame icon by its mouth. Fire Mage, the only in the party. Valia.

“What is it?” Isen asked.

She didn’t say anything for a dozen seconds. “How are you?”

Small talk. Sure, why not?

“I’m well, thank you. And you? Have you ever been this far into the wilderness?”

“No,” she admitted in a small voice which he hadn’t heard before. “I’ve only went over faction lines three times, all for hunting trips. Never this far out.”

“All will be fine. Relax.”

But similar was true for Isen. The furtherest he had ventured was Hyera’s Outpost on the southern shore of Green Lake, due east of Greenwood Town, less than a hour trip on a well-trodden path over forest hills. Green Lake, these recent years, was becoming a magical hot spot for high-quality fish to spawn, a new gold rush in the making. If it weren’t for Lord Hyera’s foresight decades ago, Scarlett Freya and Veric Taul would have claimed the location, and Greenwood would now be suffering a hundred fold. Isen sometimes wondered if Hyera had been gifted divine wisdom by the highest of gods for his countless good deeds for Cyesten and her people.

As the party rode into the shade of a grand dead tree, Valia whispered, “What do you think of Lord Magnair?”

He glanced right but saw only her outline and the Red Crag’s corrupted, snow-covered peaks. Storm clouds were approaching, a sliver of sunlight cutting through, fading. This early winter was going to be straight out of the frozen depths of Hell and beyond.

Isen said, “To be bluntly honest, I wish Hyera were leading us instead, but I’m fine with Magnair.”

“Same. I’d feel ten times safer.”

“You have so little confidence? Why?”

“Magnair’s only nineteen-years-old. You didn’t know?”

Wrinkles dug into Isen’s forehead. “No. I thought he’s in his early-twenties.”

“I did too, but I asked, and he said he’s nineteen.”

Isen held in a shrug. “What difference does a few years make?”

“Not much.” Valia’s voice quieted to the lowest whisper, almost as quiet as their manasteeds’ silenced galloping. “I’m not sure, but something about him feels off, you know?”

Isen slowly murmured, “What exactly feels off?”

“I don’t know. Lord Hyera personally vouched for him, but still. Do you remember his father ever having a wife or child?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“If his father passed and had no heir, then the king would have to choose someone to take the empty position. It would be cause for in-fighting. A simple solution would be to take in a young look-alike prodigy and give him their family name, hush-hush in the night. No one would question the king.”

They were trudging near a dangerous subject. Isen wisely guided her away: “You’re making too many assumptions. Everyone is entitled to privacy, including the king. And even if what you’re saying is true, what good will it do to expose this? At worst, it’ll cause people to distrust Wygal when he’s done nothing to earn it. And you could get into a lot of trouble. I don’t want to hear any more of this. Okay, Val?”

She didn’t say anything for a few dozen gallops. “Okay. You’re right. I guess it doesn’t matter how the king lords over his court as long as things are getting better.”

“Things are getting better. That’s a fact.”

She let out a long breath. “Why are you so defensive?”

This was hard to talk about. He had seen with his own two eyes what happens to those who openly opposed the king’s rule. Not just harmless protest, but real malicious discontent. Isen’s tongue soured as he thought back to his schoolyard friends, his classmates who he had trained with, laughed with. Together. How had some of them strayed so far from the right path?

Valia’s fingers waved in front of his eyes. “Isen? Yoohoo.”

He breathed through a sigh. “Have you met my younger brother, Aaren?”

“No, I can’t say I recall. Why?”

“He was born below-average in all attributes. His only affinities are earth and nature, both low. He suffers from an incurable lung malady that makes it hard for him to breathe during spring and summer.” Isen swallowed, mouth dry. “Part of the reason why I joined the Royal Guard is because I want to help people like my brother. When I see protests in front of the office, hear that we don’t care about their troubles, it saddens me. I do want to make things better for them. It’s what Lord Hyera wants; it’s what all those in the Royal Court want even if sometimes their methods are questionable, but they do listen and improve. Look at Greenwood, how it’s changed since we were children.”

“Wow,” Valia drawled. “Sounds like you want a place in the Court.”

“Perhaps I do.”

“Perhaps you’re dreaming.”

He let the subject drop, and she drifted fifteen strides away from him, back to her position in the formation. She shouldn’t have broken formation in the first place; if there had been an ambush, an area-of-effect blast, two side-by-side manasteeds would’ve been a juicy, juicy target. And she was a Mage. She could’ve been severely injured or worse.

Yet Wygal hadn’t pinged them to separate. Was it incompetence or confidence?

Isen assumed the latter, settled into a meditative trance, and repeated his skill rotations to himself. As a Knight—a main party tank—his primary job was to keep aggro and stay alive while reducing the amount of healing that he needed. His job was not to deal damage, no matter how much he desired, especially in a balanced party of eight.

For a single target, like a dungeon boss, he would open with Shield Toss immediately into Taunting Flourish, both highly-aggravating skills. A follow-up combo to spam could be Lashing Strike, Agonizing Blade, and Siphoning Cut, in that order. Defensive cooldown options were Enhance Vitality, Toughen Skin, and Agile Feet. To his dismay, he still lacked Diamond Skin, a key skill that would double Toughen Skin’s defensive potency when invoked as a combo. His party members, as expected, had not taken kindly to this. Torvac Lagran, the one Blademaster, had given Isen quite a verbal thrashing. Rightly so.

For multiple targets, such as elementals, the standard strategy was to sprint with Agile feet while taunting targets with Booming Shield and Taunting Flourish. Toughen Skin if needed. Then Stunning Flare would be the textbook play, but with an Arcane Mage and Frost Mage in the party, a stun from the main tank wasn’t necessary. Lesfid also had a number of slows—Ranger traps and debuffs.

And Knight ultimates?

Isen almost laughed at the thought. Attaining a Legendary Loot Gem was one supremely difficult task. Getting a Legendary Skill Gem out of it was just short of impossible. According to the tomes, roughly one in thirty-five Legendary Gems would produce a Legendary Skill with a Normal-Quality Luck Potion. Perfect Group Invisibility must’ve cost Wygal tens of millions of gold. Maybe over a hundred million gold. Just for one ultimate skill… and King Desiric was rumored to have three ultimates. Such wealth was mind-boggling.

After twenty minutes, as they were only a few leagues from those stony hills, Valia drifted to Isen for the second time.

“Yes?” Isen’s tone was formal.

“I Just talked with Lesfid. Do you know Sorath’s mother was killed in a dungeon? Her whole party wiped.” She was such a gossiper.

And so was Isen to a small degree. “I know, and I made sure people at school didn’t give him crap for it.”

“Of course you’d do that, Golden Boy.”

“Anything for Bubble Head.”

“I remember that. From Tutorial School. Under the bubble enchantment, he looked like a drunk horse. We all thought psionic meant he had a disease.” She snorted, then added in a more sympathetic voice, “That had to be borderline traumatizing. I’d apologize to him if I could.”

“You can. He’s not dead.” But there was a major chance that Sorath’s corpse was somewhere out here, rotting.

“I know. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Well, you made it sound like he’s become this deranged monster. I’m not sure I’d ever want be in the same room as someone like that. What if he wants to kill me because I ran from him?”

A drip of guilt fell down Isen’s throat. Maybe his words had smeared the Psionic Hexblade’s name. “You should know he sometimes helped Madrog with patrols and interrogations. Wygal might be right in saying Greenwood’s safe because of Sorath. The more I think about it, the more logical sense it makes.”

Valia’s head outline nodded. “It does make sense. Sorath would make the perfect Town Guard. Why’s he out here risking his life? He’d be well-paid at Greenwood.”

Eyebrow arched, Isen asked, “You haven’t seen the bounties?”

“No, I haven’t done any admin work. I just know there are three lists.”

“Oh. Scarlett Freya is worth fifty-thousand dead, over a hundred thousand alive. Even more for Veric Taul. Their gang members are a thousand gold each. Cardon’s head payed Sorath ten thousand.”

Valia’s reaction was unexpected: “Why such an increase for being alive?”

“Hyera wants to make an example out of them. He thinks he can scare their members to surrender at the faction line.”

“Why?”

“The kingdom’s short on labor at the Quarries, and there are sweeping budget cuts right now. Your weekly pay might take a hit as well.”

Her tone soured: “I hope not. I was promised a pay rise by the end of this winter.”

A pay rise during these times. Absurd. Isen kept his voice cordial, “It can still happen. What’s your main duty?”

“High-tier open-world dungeons, and infestations,” she said proudly. “You? Office clerk?”

“Right now I’m training under the territory expansion team, but I was assigned to office work for some days, being new and all.”

She chuckled. “You’re their butt-boy. The guy they make do all the menial tasks—like taking heads to the Morgue. Evidently they don’t think much of you.”

He couldn’t argue. The sight of Cardon’s lifeless eyes was soul-destroying. Isen had almost vomited on the way to the Morgue, and when they had—

In an urgent whisper, Isen said, “They secretly froze Cardon’s head.”

“I know.”

A frown narrowed his eyes. “What? Do you know why?”

She was quiet for ten of his heartbeats. “I’ll tell you, but you promise me that you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

“I promise. What is it?”

The outlines of her fingers tightened around her manasteed’s reigns. She whispered so quietly that Isen could barely hear, “A Monument is under construction. This is why the Quarries are short on labor. I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out.”

It suddenly all clicked into place as one giant puzzle. From the king’s mysterious absence to the budget restructuring to this harsh winter. This faction was at last advanced enough to build a Divine Monument. The dark gods were infuriated right now, and they would only get worse each passing month until the Monument’s completion; at that time, there would be chaos upon Cyesten. Plagues. Droughts. Blizzards. Hordes of demonic beings laying siege.

But it would be worth it—advancement into a new age.

Possibly resurrection magic.

Valia asked, “Do you know what that means?”

“Of course I do.” He grinned like a schoolboy. “I hope we get flying mount tech most of all.”

“Same here. My gold is on giant manabirds.”

He teased, “Are you flying to the moon like you always wanted?”

She scoffed. “You know I’m going to find out what that thing’s really made of. If it’s candy, I’m bringing back a lifetime supply. None for you.”

Suddenly, a beam of dark-purple light punched into the clouds from somewhere in hills up ahead. From several leagues away, right where the tier-nine dungeon should be. A magically induced sense of dread and hate confirmed to Isen that a party had just reached the dungeon boss and was fighting it.

“Eldritch,” Valia said. “Pure darkness.”

Isen nodded as a void grew inside his chest, his light mana struggling to push back against the dark influence. The last time had felt any form of dark power was when Sorath became a Hexblade, but this was ten times worse, a hundred times more depressing.

A ping rang.

Wygal Magnair orders you to turn rightward. Set up an ambush for when they exit.

A safe strategy which Isen couldn’t agree with more.