“Why are you so nice to me, Two?” Zahn pulled the broom along the stone ground, scraping up a pile of dirty straw and loose sand. The sneak had vanished down his hallway shortly after giving Zahn his instructions, and only now as the afternoon wound to a close he returned bearing a broom of his own. “It’s not like the other First Five pretend not to hate me for existing, but you’re perfectly happy stepping in on my training and getting my help. What’s up with that?”

The thin man hummed as he worked, pausing in his chores to reach through the nearest bars and pat the boar-like occupant on its head. “I suppose it would look like that, for you. Tell me, what have you said or done to endear yourself to the fighting elite? Besides giving them a reason to kill you last week?”

Zahn shrugged a shoulder, using his foot to nudge the swept pile out of the corner. “Can’t say. Bare minimum, I’ve let them all kill me at least once. Is murder really not enough for them?”

Two chuckled, turning to lean against the embedded cage. “You could say that. Let’s not forget, you arrived uninvited to a private place, to their home, and the first thing you did was make their lives more difficult. If I remember properly, your first death even took the weapon out of Burny’s hand - and nobody disarms that man. A bit of a conflict, to say the least.”

The Custom shrugged again as he bent back to task, sweeping the growing pile of dirt and refuse along the hall. “Hardly my fault. Last thing I knew before coming here, I was in a life-and-death fight against a massive Field Boss, deep underground. Showing up here is hardly something I tried for.”

Shaking his head, Two rejoined him. “So you still don’t see it, then. Well, part of it has to do with respect. Back when -” he coughed, tapping his chest lightly. “Sorry. Back before I chose to live here, I was told about some customs of another world. A world where mutual respect is everywhere, where any individual can speak their mind freely, where the only hierarchy one is subjected to comes from their own beliefs and the laws enforced equally upon everyone.” He glanced at the ceiling, eyes moving between soot stains. “Sounds magical. Sadly, here, we have certain rules.”

Zahn paused and looked back, tilting his head as he listened to the man.

“Here,” Two continued with a broad wave of his hand, “one must defer to the higher Ranks. Power may not be everything, but everything ultimately comes back to power. If one wishes to make their voice heard, they must become powerful enough to force their enemies to hear them. You won’t find the banter we share in the Collisae out there, where might simply kills those that defy it. I would even wager,” he chuckled again, “you would not be able to find a single person willing to listen to you if they had nothing to gain from it. Does that sound familiar?”

Zahn thought back to his brief days in the tree of the Adventurer’s Guild, remembering the angry barman Frejn and his rant about respect. “Might be. I know when two separate people decided that I suck, I suddenly lost the rights to even my daily food rations. And something about not bowing low enough to guards in the City.”

Two smirked as he considered the Player, “Sounds like a story I’d like to hear sometime. I haven’t spent hours listening to, shall we say, an outside perspective? In years. If I understand, you’re from a world with very different rules, but it looks more and more like nobody taught you our rules. Not exactly fair, but that’s life.”

Zahn nodded, remembering his first month in Riviana more clearly the longer he dwelled on it. “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, I did have a sit-down with the village Elder back in the day, but we mostly talked about what Players can and can’t do that makes me so different from the rest of the world. And I think there was a Paladin fella who would have been nice to me, but I kind of died before I could spend too long out in the sticks.”

“Really? ‘Kind of died’ is it?” Two’s smile spread wide as he returned to brushing the ground. “I’ve always been fascinated at how much the immortals can do in such a short time, even before my dip in the Fountain. This might shock you, but for the first twenty-odd years of my life I was a simple, obedient son. I didn’t even join my first Thieves Guild until I saw twenty-two summers, let alone set off with a strange woman and her Party. I’m fairly certain under different circumstances, I would have been part of the ill-fated group that set out to kill her. Life’s funny like that.”

Zahn stood thinking until he realized Two had already passed him, sweeping the other side of the hallway. He quickly tried to catch up, feeling a strange melancholy he couldn’t quite place. “Are you lonely, Two?”

The sneak paused, half-turning to see if Zahn was looking at him. “I wouldn’t say that. Are you?”

“Might be,” Zahn spoke again without thinking. “There’s no real opportunity to rest, see? I don’t really notice if there’s anyone to talk about shit to. Thought I did, but… Maybe if I had a real team, a Party like you were talking about it might be different. Even when the fighting is going well, or there’s a lax day with all the constant training, I don’t think I’ve really had any time to just sit back and think, you know?” He let out a sigh, kicking the dirt pile to push it further along. “I was signing in to a video game. I was going to work about an hour a day and sit back for the rest, billing my boss the whole way. Then I woke up outside fuckin’ Tutoralina.”

Two hummed again, seemingly focused on his task. “Sounds like you could use a friend, Zahn.”

The Custom smirked at the sneak’s back, “You already are my friend. Well, you and Ethan, but I’m not so sure he has a choice. It doesn’t do well to be enemies with your roomie.”

“Don’t forget the demon, I’m sure it loves having you around too.”

Zahn blinked at the idea, trying to parse if the little fire imp was even friendly or just trying to use him for more free mana or the like. “Dunno. Say, are you busy at night?”

Two shook his head, pausing to reach through the nearest bars and pet its occupant. “My vigil ends with sundown, as do the tasks of each of the Five. Gods know One would be spitting murder if anyone tried to get her to watch the walls after sunset. Though,” he raised a finger, “that’s not quite right. Nightly patrols start at night, so probably half of the Five rest at dark.”

Zahn grimaced at the memory of meeting Burnato the first time, “Yeah, can’t forget that. Listen, I haven’t checked with Ethan but I want to invite you over. I like talking to you, and I think you can keep a secret better than most here.”

The tan man giggled, patting the beast through its cage. “I would argue ‘most here’ can’t even speak, being more Beast than Monster. But I hear your point, poorly worded it may be.” He looked back at Zahn, his eyes shining in the torchlight. “It’s only polite to include your teammate in the conversation, but should he assent I would be honored to join you. I understand he cooks wonderful stews.”

* * * * *

Zahn sat back against the couch, arms sore from the constant sweeping. “Every time that guy drags me down the Fodder hallway, I end up feeding killer beasts and sweeping up the droppings. It’s exhausting.”

Ethan sipped from his stirring spoon, slapping the demon’s claws away from the pot. “Count yourself lucky, it gets you out of further training and he doesn’t let most of us back there at all. I’ve only been down there to deliver the catch after a raid or to fetch the next Fodder to kill. I think he’s the only one acting as a Beastmaster here, and that’s not even his Class. Cut it, shit!”

Iengoris let out a soft cackle as it leapt off his arm and onto a perch on the couch. “So, meditating again tonight?”

Giving the little demon a stare back, Zahn sat up and broached the inevitable. “What would happen if someone else knew about you?”

The imp stilled, its eyes looking past him. “Consequences, why do you ask? You couldn’t have been so stupid as to have told the sneak a thing.”

The Custom shook his head, “Nah, he figured it out. I mentioned a summoning last month and he already guessed Ethan was a Warlock.” The gray body trembled as its eyes began to glow red.

“So, what, I gotta face blackmail now?” Ethan’s indignant complaint drew their gaze over. “I am not going to start paying anyone for protection money, no fuckin’ way.”

“Not at all,” Zahn waved the issue aside. “I just want to invite him over for food, have a talk. I don’t think he even gives a shit what your Class is, you’re not exactly an imminent threat to him.”

Ethan bent back to stirring, grumbling under his breath. His minion jumped onto its master’s shoulder, hissing a whisper into the man’s ear. He didn’t answer for a while before finally slapping it away with the handle of his spoon. “No, we can’t poison Two. He’s a fucking Rogue, so he already has immunity to most poisons we even have access to at this tier.”

“And he has the Players’ Immortality, from bathing in the Fountain of Youth.” Zahn let the silence stretch for several beats before letting his grin break. “See? He’d be interesting company. I’ve extended my invitation, just waiting for you and yours to approve.”

The Warlock looked back at his demon, the little thing glaring daggers at the Custom. “Sure, why not. If he already knows about the summon, then it can’t really hurt. But we’re not telling him any other secrets.”

“Why thank you, I’m humbled, truly.” The sneak faded into view as he closed their double doors, reaching up to untie his cloak at the shoulder. “I’m never invited to a meal, let alone one prepared by such a talented chef as yourself. What is your Cooking at, if I may ask?”

“Sixty-seven, how the fuck did you get in here? I closed that door, it’s fucking loud too!”

Two smirked, hanging his cover over the nearest couch and dropping into it with a sigh. He wore a vest and braces set under the cloak, matching in color and pattern perfectly. “My Perception is rather high, and I have something called Piercing that applies to everything. Including my ability to eavesdrop, given the right circumstances. There are no secrets from me during nightly patrols. And I’m far from the only one to be able to say this.”

Zahn cocked an eyebrow, looking from the sneak to the other Player. “And you were saying the wards here, the whole ‘private conversation’ thing, they’re supposed to help with secrets?”

Ethan’s jaw worked as he stared into the bubbling meal he stirred automatically. “I, ah, well there’s always… Aw fuck man, what do you know?”

The Gladiator chuckled, pointing at the demon. “His name is Iengoris, and if announced with an empowered voice by one who he has taken mana from, he is banished. Normally, that’s just his summoner. From the conversation,” his finger lazily swiveled to Zahn, “he must have taken in a significant amount of mana from you. If I had to guess by your magical ability suddenly increasing, he offered you some deal about guidance for sustenance. And given how you,” the long digit moved again, stopping at the still-stirring Ethan, “did not gain any sort of power or ability increase, that would mean you were left out of whatever deal they made. So.” Two stood, stretching, before pointing at the demon and Custom with both hands. “You made a deal with a devil, which can only be done with the Higher Chaos beings, and that makes the imp a mere fragment of something greater. And as anyone who’s spent years among Players knows, only Player Warlocks even get the option of contracting a Chaos Lord. Ethan the Warlock.”

The blond looked up finally, tear-filled eyes meeting a calm smiling Rogue. “All that? From hearing them talking once? Are you fucking kidding me man?” His voice choked off in a squeak, his arm trembling as it failed to circulate the pot.

The sneak sat back down, waving as if his study was obvious. “When you’ve been around Players longer than a decade, a lot makes sense. You learn the rules about different Classes, how to fight them, how to beat them. For instance, you’re very smart posing as a Monk and coming here. Building up your Physical ability to make up for your Mental-focused build makes a lot of sense. However, your staff Skills, quite frankly, suck. You should ditch the blade and just use a regular quarterstaff like the mountain-dwellers.”

“Do you have any advice?” Zahn leaned forward, trying to contain his urge for answers. “I’m figuring things out with mana manipulation, like I think I could just trace a bunch of paths to come out my arms like tree branches and mount spells on those. But more casts isn’t really what I’m going for, I gotta improve what I’m casting, you know?”

The tan man held up both hands, as if to ward off the stream of consciousness. “Calm down, you’ve only just started playing with fire. One day you’ll look back on this conversation and laugh, I don’t think you have any real idea of what you’ve started doing. If you want something Kat would have told you?” He paused, glancing at the ceiling before wiping his eye. “Probably to focus on multiple things. You did rather well, casting Earth after channeling Fire all afternoon. You know about shaping the ground, but never build something that will cast your spells for you. A proper Artificer would be ashamed. Nevermind wearing one’s tools around your arms like bracers.”

“We don’t have anything better,” mumbled Ethan as he ladled out three bowls.

“Well then. Shame you can’t just press Earth against you to make armor. Oh, wait.” Two’s sarcastic drawl threw Zahn for a moment, before the Player jumped to his feet.

“Holy shit! I can trace a bunch of paths out of my skin, and fuckin’ plate myself with rocks and stones! How did I not think of that?!”

“Slow down,” Two tried to wave his excitement away as the Custom bounced on his feet. “No, you’re nowhere near strong enough to do that. Don’t forget, everything weighs something and you’re mostly bread dough right now. Doesn’t matter how tall or broad you are if your maximum carry capacity is under fifty stone.”

“Finally, someone else gets it,” Ethan found his voice again, setting out three meals with spoons. “I’ve been trying to motivate him the whole time, and he only recently started trying at all. This isn’t old Asia, nobody thinks fat is a virtue around here.”

“What is asia, if I might ask?” Two slurped at the stew, humming his approval. “This is delicious.”

“A continent,” Ethen mumbled over his meal. “From Earth, where we come from. It’s full of countries, histories, the lot. Once upon a time, everyone was starving so being fat was hot.”

Zahn snorted into his soup, wiping at his face. “Not anywhere I’ve heard of. Fat usually means lazy or high ranking, usually both.”

Two smirked over his spoon, “So, which were you?”

Zahn sat and plastered a sarcastic smile, trying not to spill as the room erupted in laughter and jeers. He found himself smiling for real, finally feeling like he’d found something worth the imprisonment.

* * * * *

“It’s fuckin’ unfair, is what it is.” Zahn gestured broadly, waving at the world outside. “I get dropped into a fuckin’ forest, I manage to find a village some fuckin’ how, and then I die and get sucked up to a mad scientist magic-ass lair! So damned unfair!”

After finishing dinner, the trio had settled into stories and their pasts, with Ethan and Two having nearly crossed paths more than once in their various Dungeon crawls. Eventually, they’d demanded hearing Zahn’s story and the more he told of his first month in the gaming world, the angrier he’d gotten.

“So yeah - sure, I’ll give him that, I stole his book. I hit the ‘no’ option, how the fuck was I supposed to know it was asking for mercy? That’s not normal!” He’d abandoned his seat to pace and rant, going over the story again as if they’d not just listened to his droning for the last hour. “Then he kills me. Fine, whatever, I got back to ground. I don’t know any of the fucking local-ass customs! I get employed, if you can even call it that, and I’m just trying to do my quests and she’s tellin’ me don’t bother? Why the fuck would you assign quests you don’t want done? I got you sales, damn it! All that fuckin’ time in the stupid ass City and I don’t even get a real chance to find my fuckin Trainer! Who am I even supposed to ask about that, the damned Guild?”

Ethan levered himself to his feet, reaching out to snag his arm. “Yes, yes, terribly unfair. And they murdered you, and kicked you out. And now you have a Mark you need to return. Your life is so unfair.”

“And now the Guildmaster is on the coals, and he’s facing accusations of murder and member abandonment. Nobody wins,” Two’s drawl drew Zahn’s eyes like magnets as the Player failed to speak. “What? You didn’t know? There was a Raid, it went bad under orders, and a few of the team members are now filthy rich. If I recall, one was cloistered and another fled to the south, off to the Human Empire. It was all over the news just last match, everyone was talking about it. I heard the details from the vendors, such nice chaps.”

Zahn fell into his seat, staring blankly at the hearth. “They fucking murdered me, and all they can say about it is ‘it went bad’? I can’t believe it, that’s fucking ridiculous. If I was a local, that would have been actual fucking murder.”

Two chuckled, gesturing towards the City. “And instead, their Guildmaster earned a third Black Mark within a month, and was brought up for questioning. There was a huge trial, testimony from the surviving members. Those who could be reached, anyways. Their own Rogue got out wealthy beyond measure, he founded some mining group and brought up precious minerals by the bagload. Good for him. Rogues deserve a break.”

Zahn’s jaw worked as his throat refused to open, suffocating on his rage as his temper pounded in his chest. Squeezing his fists tight, he fought for air and sucked down a wavering breath. “I have to get out of here. As soon as I fucking can.”

Two turned serious, eyeing the pent-up temper tantrum as one would a wild beast. “Well, you seem to have forgotten your goal. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been struck from the match rosters. What matters is challenging the Ringmaster, and you don’t need to win anything to issue that.”