The Elven Seneschal glared at Rob with murder in his eyes. Riardin's Rangers froze as, one-by-one, they cast Identify and realized the situation they'd stumbled into. For a moment, everyone in the room was silent.

Suddenly, Diplomacy stirred, Rob's body going rigid as the Skill surged forward. He tried to let out a gasp, but with belated horror, he realized that he no longer possessed any control over his body. It felt as if Diplomacy had grabbed hold of his brain stem, controlling him like a puppet of meat and bone. Rob's mind instinctively thrashed in a panic, nearly breaking free–

Diplomacy whispered, in a faint, weak voice.

Ah.

With herculean effort, Rob forced himself to stand down. The sensation of another entity hijacking his body was repulsive, but Diplomacy knew how that felt better than anyone. They wouldn't have gone this far without good reason. Trust, Rob affirmed.

The Skill sent back a pulse of gratitude and went to work. Rob had expected Diplomacy to open up with an introductory speech meant to placate the Seneschal – or at least something with more oomph than "nice to meet you" – but the Skill kept silent. Instead, Rob was subjected to the thoroughly off-putting experience of Diplomacy adjusting his individual facial muscles. A tug here, a tightening there. It was like watching a sculptor at their craft, the Skill molding Rob's expression with laborious care to convey the precise emotions they wanted him to.

Seneschal Sylpeiros paused, his hand halfway to his spear. The Elf's fingers trembled, and he grit his teeth, forehead veins bulging. Slowly, as if in pain, he lowered his arm. Diplomacy continued tweaking Rob's facial expression until the moment that the hatred in the Seneschal's eyes dulled from fervent bloodlust to simmering contempt.

Diplomacy Level Increased! 17 → 18

Diplomacy Level Increased! 18 → 19

Wow, Rob thought, in awe. I'd kill for a mirror right now. What in the world was that?

No, I mean, the Invasion of the Body Snatchers thing.

Abruptly, Diplomacy released their hold on Rob, collapsing into a mental heap. The Skill's thoughts were short and clipped, as if they were recovering from having run a marathon.

Rob shook his head internally. You asked me to trust, and I trusted. I could've broken free if I really wanted to.

"It's good to see the two of you getting along so well."

A strangled gasp escaped Rob's throat before he could suppress it. Riardin's Rangers whirled around to find a particularly burly Dwarf standing in the corner, casually leaning on a wall as if he owned the place. Which, considering that Identify marked him as Stonewarden Grant, he probably did. Embarrassment flooded Rob over the fact that he'd outright missed the imposing Level 78 Dwarf's presence, but then again, his attention had been mildly occupied.

"Grant, you thrice-damned bastard," the Elven Seneschal growled. "I should have known you were scheming something foul when you asked me to greet a surprise 'guest' and went to hide out of sight. What the fuck is the Human doing here?"

"I must also question your methods," Elder Alessia stated, her tone dangerously low. "Why, in your infinite wisdom, did you neglect to inform us of the Seneschal's arrival?" Her head whipped towards Vevrandi. "Were you aware of this as well?"

The Dwarven Commander shook her head, putting on a mask of stoicism. "No. I have been nothing but truthful with you in our dealings. With that in mind, I'm sure that the Stonewarden invited the Seneschal here to fulfill an important purpose. Far be it from me to question his will."

Rob couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Vevrandi. Her demeanor was several notches more serious than it had been the week prior. It reminded him of whenever one of Jason's sports friends cleaned up their room and dressed nicely right before their parents visited. Evidently, she wanted to look dependable in front of her beloved Stonewarden.

"I invited myself," the Elven Seneschal snapped, "as you weren't responding to my Messages."

He jabbed an accusing finger at the Stonewarden, who merely laughed in return. "Dwarven territory has its own share of problems to tend to," the Dwarf said, in a jovial voice with the timbre of gravel. "I must congratulate you, Sylpeiros, on passing your test. Had you given in to your urges and attacked the Human, I would have intervened and expelled you from Dwarven territory in a heartbeat. And before you cry foul; I wouldn't have hesitated to expel the Human if he attempted first blood instead."

The Seneschal appeared as if he wanted to strangle someone, and Alessia's expression wasn't far off. "Stonewarden," the Elder hissed, her eyes narrowed, "we do not appreciate being tested without our knowing. This type of behavior resembles an insecure lover, not a Leader with whom we hope to ally."

Vevrandi let out an affronted squawk. Stonewarden Grant only smiled, shaking his head. "The test was for your benefit. As we will be working with the Seneschal henceforth, it was necessary to see how deeply the depths of his hatred ran for the Human. If I'd warned him of your coming, he might have hid his enmity, biding his time in order to stab the Human in the back when an opportune moment presented itself."

Diplomacy wheezed.

Rob used Message to relay that tidbit to the rest of his Party. As inspiration struck, he quickly removed a random member of Riardin's Rangers, added Alessia, sent her a Message too, then kicked her out and re-invited the other Party member. It was a tad convoluted, but it ensured that all nine of them were kept informed of the situation.

"You insult me with every word and action," the Elven Seneschal flatly stated. "Fine. Let us move on to discussing matters of importance before I regret ever coming here." He glanced at Rob, resignation spreading across his countenance. "The Merfolks' claims were true, then."

"The Merfolk told you too?"

"They told me first." The Seneschal's mouth split into a humorless grin. "And it was I who encouraged them to forgive your indiscretions in their territory."

Out of the nine people in Rob's group, nine of them failed to suppress their shock, gaping at the Seneschal with wide eyes, Diplomacy included. The Seneschal's grin deepened. "Don't look so surprised. I am not some slavering beast incapable of reason, like..."

He trailed off, any hints of mirth evaporating in an instant. At first Rob assumed that he'd been about to say 'the Human', but the Elf's eyes were distant, focused on something else entirely.

"One crisis at a time," Stonewarden Grant said, as if consoling a funeral mourner. He took a seat opposite from the Seneschal and fixed him with an insistent stare. "I swear – on my honor – that if you help my people, I shall help yours."

The Seneschal only nodded mutely, his hands clenched into tight fists.

On it. Rob and Elder Alessia took a seat at the meeting table, the rest of Riardin's Rangers standing behind them as their entourage. Once everyone was ready, the Stonewarden swept his gaze across Riardin's Rangers and the Seneschal, nodding at each of them in turn.

"To begin," he said, "I would like to offer you all my thanks for coming to Dwarven territory's aid in our time of need. The Blight isn't just the enemy of any one nation – it is the enemy of Elatra itself. Only by combining our strength and joining hands as allies will we be able to survive the trials that are to come. Your bravery and willingness to fight for lands not your own is commendable."

He looked at Rob. "And to you, Human, I wish to offer you my deepest apologies. What happened to your kind during the Scouring was an unconscionable act of abhorrent barbarism. That you managed to survive both it and the Cataclysm brings my heart no small amount of joy. Once the Blight has been expunged, I will do everything in my power to set things right – this, I swear."

The Stonewarden spoke with the gravitas of a true Leader, his tone impassioned and his words sincere. He possessed the kind of regal bearing that could inspire people to throw their lives away in the name of whatever cause he deemed fit. Rob even caught himself starting to trust the Dwarf before he pulled back his emotions and threw up some mental walls. The Stonewarden wasn't using Mind Magic – otherwise, Mind Resistance would have activated – but he had something far more dangerous: natural, effortless charisma.

As the Stonewarden continued to speak, exchanging niceties with Elder Alessia, Rob examined the Dwarf's mannerisms. Truth be told, he'd expected someone much less likable. So far, Riardin's Rangers had come into contact with three other Elatran Leaders, and all of them were varying shades of unpleasant. The Dragon Queen was certifiably insane, the Merfolk King seemed like an arrogant prick, and the Elven Seneschal seemed so frustrated with the world in general that it was a miracle he hadn't dropped dead from high blood pressure. They'd risen to their station by virtue of martial might, not speaking skills. The Stonewarden seemed to be one of those rare Elatrans who possessed both.

Although his charms didn't seem to have much effect on the Seneschal, who was once again glaring as if he wanted to dropkick the Stonewarden into orbit. Rob couldn't blame the Elf for feeling that way. It must've been absolutely infuriating to sit there and listen to the man who'd repeatedly denied your requests for aid, who was now going on about the virtues of teamwork as soon as his homeland started being threatened. In light of that, the fact that the Seneschal was reining his emotions and staying silent was honestly a little impressive.

"What happened to Reviton City in Elven territory?" Zamira abruptly asked, interrupting their conversation. "Forgive my impertinence – I recognize that I am speaking out of turn. Yet, I must know." She looked at the Seneschal. "If you are here, then Reviton City must have survived, correct?"

The Seneschal narrowed his eyes. "What do you care?" he grunted. "Your kind no longer holds a stake in Elven affairs. 'Deserters', you call yourself, isn't that right?"

"While you may be correct, I still care about the people we left behind when fleeing north. It would mean a great deal if you could assuage my fears regarding their fate."

The Seneschal hesitated. Apparently, he'd expected an argument, not a plea. "...Reviton City stands," he eventually answered. "We held off the Blight's siege until it ran out of monsters and animals to infect."

All the Elves in Riardin's Rangers – aside from Keira – breathed a sigh of relief. While they weren't planning to relocate south anytime soon, it must have been a huge relief to know that they hadn't doomed their homelands by abandoning it.

Diplomacy muttered.

Of course, the Stonewarden took that moment to retake control of the conversation. "Your people fought well, Sylpeiros," he said. "Unfortunately, Dhalerune cannot defend itself in the same manner. Laying in wait and fortifying our city walls will only result in the Blight absorbing the Locus of Power located within the mines. Decisive action must be taken."

He grimaced. "Normally, this would be where I apprise you of any new intelligence that our scouts have gathered, but as of now, they've yet to return. We must proceed with the assumption that the Blight is cunning enough to catch them unawares and powerful enough to prevent their escape."

The Stonewarden turned around to offer Vevrandi a sympathetic look. "I am sorry. You have my express permission to take a reprieve, should you need it."

Vevrandi's posture went stiff as a board. She closed her eyes and muttered something to herself in Dwarvish. After a few moments, she opened her eyes, determination burning within. "No need at all," Vevrandi answered, with shaky confidence. "My sister would've smacked me upside the head if she learned that I used her death as an excuse to neglect my duties. The best I can do to honor her spirit is by staying right here. Allow me to assist you in avenging her death."

"Very well," the Stonewarden said, gracing her with a subtle nod. "You have my respect, Vevrandi." He turned back around to look at Rob. "Human. Before we can draw up proper battle plans, we must know the complete extent of your Corruption Purging Skills. According to the Merfolk, you heavily injured a Corrupted Leviathan by striking it at close range – is this true?"

"Yup," Rob confirmed, grinning wide as he indulged in fond memories. "It ran away like a little bitch."

The Stonewarden's lips twitched upwards. "If the creature stayed, could you have killed it?"

Rob raised a hand and wiggled it in an 'eeeeeeh' motion. "Maybe? Tough call. That thing was freaking huge. I dumped a full third of my Purge Corruption energy into it, and while that definitely injured it, it was still uninjured enough to run away without trouble. Not sure if all my energy would've done the trick. Although, I wouldn't use the Corrupted Leviathan as a metric – considering that I don't sense Corruption in the air here, the Blight within Dhalerune Mines can't have absorbed its Locus longer than a week or so ago."

He paused. "And if it is somehow as strong as the Leviathan, then we're all screwed anyway."

The two Leaders glanced at each other, confusion evident on their faces. "You'll have to clarify a few details," the Stonewarden said. "What do you mean by 'energy', and sensing Corruption in the air?"

Rob clapped his hands together. "Alright, here's a crash course on Corruption 101. First, to put things into perspective, imagine that Purge Corruption is a spell that runs on its own unique energy source. Like a separate form of MP. I can run out of Purge Corruption juice and still use my other Skills. Its energy recharges gradually over a period of twenty-fours hours – which is something to keep in mind for when we go spelunking."

He pointed a finger straight up and twirled it around. "As for sensing Corruption in the air; yeah, I can do that too. Same way you can smell smoke. It's how I know we're not too late. See, an area surrounding a Corrupted Locus of Power doesn't transform into Blighted Lands immediately. The process takes time. Corruption gets suffused throughout the air bit by bit, and as far as I can tell, it hasn't reached Dhalerune City yet. The mines themselves might be fucked, though."

"How are you capable of all this?" the Elven Seneschal asked, in an accusatory tone. "Abilities of this nature are unprecedented."

"It's a long story that I'll tell you after we become-"

"...after we've deepened our alliance," Rob finished, nodding sagely.

The Seneschal grimaced. "So be it. Wherever your capabilities stem from, I'll make use of them until you prove incapable or incompetent."

"Gee, thanks." Rob rolled his eyes. "Your input is soooo appreciated. I bet you have a lot of friends back in Elfland."

"No," the Seneschal replied, as if that was obvious. "I am the Seneschal. What Leader has friends? Anyone who would claim to be one is either a sycophant or unaware of their place in the world. You'll learn that yourself, should you continue to climb in Level."

Keira leaned forward. "Our Party's bonds are not to be taken so lightly," she stated, with emphasis.

"You don't count. According to Cold Reading, you're his paramour." Sylpeiros examined each member of Riardin's Rangers in turn. "The rest are...hmm." He raised an eyebrow. "Friends. How utterly bizarre."

Holy shit, Rob marveled. Everyone in this world needs therapy.

"While I am loath to interrupt your bonding time," the Stonewarden said, "there are pressing matters to attend to. Human – if we encounter the Blight, and you are unsure that you can kill it without coming to harm, then err on the side of caution. It is imperative that you stay alive; no one else has the ability to Purge Corruption." He paused. "Furthermore, you mentioned that Dhalerune Mines may be 'fucked'. What does that entail?"

"The Locus is in the mines, so they'll transform into Blighted Lands more quickly," Rob explained. "There'll probably be a lot of Corruption particles floating around. Not so fun to breathe in, let me tell you, but don't worry – we came prepared."

Rob summoned a large bag from his Spatial Storage. It plopped onto the table, the Skill's blue motes dissipating. "Ta-da! It's...uh..."

He noticed too late that the Leaders had adopted battle positions, their hands on their weapons. The two of them were staring at the bag as if it was a bomb ready to explode. "What manner of Skill was that?" the Seneschal demanded. "I sensed no mana in its casting. And Lothren preserve, give us a warning next time."

Elder Alessia sighed. "Apologies for the unintended surprise. Rob neglected to mention that he also possesses the ability to store items within an intangible subspace storage container."

The Seneschal and the Stonewarden's eyes bulged like saucers, any semblance of political grandstanding gone from their expressions. "How?" the Stonewarden whispered.

"Add it to the list of things I'll tell you when our alliances deepen," Rob shrugged. He opened the bag and spilled its contents out, revealing hundreds of small trinkets. "These are anti-Corruption Amulets, courtesy of the Fiends. They prevent moderate amounts of Corruption from infecting your body. Emphasis on 'moderate' – if a Blight is breathing down your throat, you're in big trouble. For something like traversing mines soaked in ambient Corruption, though, they'll be a godsend."

He'd also brought some Hazmat Suits along, but those were fragile, and in short supply due to Spatial Storage's weight limitations. Best to keep them under wraps until absolutely necessary.

"Remarkable." The Stonewarden picked up an amulet, his eyes twinkling with wonderment. "You say that the Fiends created these? Why were they in need of so many?"

Rob shook his head. "Not my place to tell." The Fiends wouldn't want the Dwarves to know that they were recovering from a Corruption epidemic that nearly wiped them out.

"You have a great many secrets you're keeping from us," the Stonewarden remarked, not unkindly. "While I trust you, Human, your knowledge may determine the fate of Dhalerune City. A show of reciprocity would help set my fellow Dwarves at ease."

Okay, this is getting old. "Tell you what," Rob began. "I'll explain everything when you explain to me how the Dwarves developed Thunder Rods. And manaless lights. And whatever else you've got tucked away in some classified R&D Department."

The room fell silent. Elder Alessia said nothing, neither approving nor disapproving, and the Elven Seneschal had a look on his face best described as 'Oh Snap'. For his part, the Stonewarden merely laughed, placing the amulet back on the table and giving Rob a warm smile. "Fair enough."

Rob smirked in return. Partially because the man's good cheer was infectious, and partially out of a sense of dramatic irony. The Stonewarden likely thought that his secrets would make for good bargaining chips, but in actuality, Rob had already figured out how the Dwarves learned to develop 1940s-era Earth technology. It wasn't hard; the gods of Elatra copied plenty of concepts from Earth, and this was just an extension of their prior plagiarism.

Granted, this was different from the gods' usual modus operandi, which until now had been to mess with things from afar in order to conserve the amount of influence they could exert on the world. Apparently, it was a finite resource – which ruled out the possibility that they were shipping massive quantities of supplies through portals, like an interdimensional Amazon. In all likelihood, they'd simply procured schematics on how to create those things, and let the Dwarves do the rest.

Transporting a few sheets of paper was much more cost-effective.

Rob wasn't sure why the gods had gone so far, though. At least a few of them were sadistic pricks, so maybe they thought that a Blight invasion wasn't enough fun, and wanted to grab some popcorn and watch Dwarves and Elves shoot each other in the face? The Stonewarden might know more details if he'd been in direct communication with the gods – which in itself was a worrying fucking possibility. It would honestly be trivial for them to bend the Dwarven Leader to their will. All the gods needed to do was whisper "Titan is proud" in his mind, and he'd be eating out of their hands in a heartbeat. While speaking to him directly like that would've required a bit of extra influence, it'd be even more cost-effective than transporting weapons schematics.

I feel like a conspiracy theorist, Rob mused, except that higher powers actually ARE out to get me, and everyone dies if I don't aim my paranoia at the right topic. In that vein, it didn't matter how affable the Stonewarden was, or how genuine his intentions could be. For safety's sake, Rob would need to treat him as a sleeper agent until proven otherwise.

"On the subject of the Thunder Rods," Elder Alessia said, addressing the Stonewarden, "while you be utilizing them during our excursion against the Blight?"

"Unfortunately, doing so would be ill-advised. Thunder Rods are most effective versus creatures with biological structures that adhere to common sense." The Stonewarden paused, evidently trying to think of a way to phrase things that wouldn't reveal exactly how his new weapons worked. "Suffice to say that a well-timed usage of a Thunder Rod on a creature's weak spot, such as a heart or head, typically yields strong results. Creatures spawned from the Blight are problematic in that regard, as they tend to lack any such vulnerability. Their 'bodies' are no more than packages of organic matter being shaped and animated by corruptive magic. What's worse, they tend to regenerate HP at a prodigious rate."

Rob thought back to the various Blightspawn he'd fought in Broadwater City and concluded that rifles would've been mostly useless against them. Landing precision headshots meant little when your target didn't have a brain. Or a head. Maybe a group of riflemen could overwhelm one or two Blightspawn with spray-and-pray tactics, but at that point, an equal number of Level 30ish Combat Class users firing Power Shot arrows would be just as successful, if not more so.

"That is sensible," Vul'to said, speaking up for the first time. "The Thunder Rod wielders are fragile Utility Class users, and as such, exposing them to the dangers of Blightspawn combat could result in high casualties with little benefit to show for it."

The Stonewarden's and Seneschal's mouths both dropped open. They stared at Vul'to in abject shock, mimicking their expressions from when they'd witnessed Spatial Storage in action. Vul'to shuffled uncomfortably and glanced towards the exit. "My apologies. Um, was I not supposed to know that?"

"Why is that Fiend speaking Common?" the Stonewarden murmured, in disbelief.

Ooooooh. Right. "Didn't the Merfolk tell you?" Rob said, swooping in to draw their attention away from Vul'to. "We've been communicating with the Fiends. I figured out how to learn Fiendish Auto-Translate, then spread the Skill from there. Feel free to ask for lessons once we've taken care of the Blight. Nation Leaders get a discount."

His strategy worked like a charm. Both of them immediately snapped their gazes towards Rob, letting him soak in their confusion for a few blissful seconds.

"You, Human, are an enigma wrapped in absurdities," the Elven Seneschal plainly stated. "I shudder to think what other revelations are locked tight within your mind."

Rob couldn't help himself. He cackled. Just a teensy bit. "Oh, man," he breathed, wiping away moisture from the corners of his eyes. "Thanks for that. I don't think I would've survived this long if I didn't get to make people question their sanity every now and then. Moments like these keep me going."

He hesitated, deciding on a suitable follow-up. "You interested in seeing a certified Blight-killer? No need to answer; of course you are. Check this shit out."

Before Diplomacy could stop him, Rob activated Spatial Storage and summoned a full crate of Firebombs, depositing it directly onto the conference room table. He leaned forward, casually resting his elbow on the crate, grinning wide as the Leaders recoiled in horror. "Let me tell you about a man named Riardin, and why his technique was so special."