"Is he okay? Where did it hit, I can't even—ah! There's blood!"

"I am fine," Tzugakk said, though his face was pale and he held tight to his side. "It was a graze."

Mist glanced back as she and Nala helped Tzugakk into an alley—the street they'd come from was nearly empty, no sign of their pursuers.

"Do you think we might have lost them?" she asked, as Nala ran forward to check a door. "Those MistVeil jars—"

"One of them was a eyeseer," Nala said, giving up on the door and glancing around for other options. "They may still—"

"Gotcha."

All three looked back, at the robed human and armoured half-orc standing in the alley's entrance.

"D-don't," Mist said, clutching her spear tight as she stepped forward. "He's on his last demerit—"

"Even better, love that knock-out bonus," said the human, drawing a dagger. The half-orc beside him already had her weapon in hand, a bulky spiked club.

Human eyeseer and half-orc fighter, Nala thought. If we can defeat the eyeseer then I can stealth and backstab the fighter, Mist's to-hit and damage are low but if she gets a critical—

"Mist," she murmured. "Attack the eyeseer—"

Nala stopped as she saw that Mist had lowered her spear, then followed the girl's bright-eyed gaze—the eyeseer and the half-orc were looking back, at someone standing in the square outside the alley. It was a human girl, tall and lithe, her plate armour shining bright, her silver hair tightly braided into complex patterns, her sleepy eyes upon the two bullies. She had her hand upon the hilt of her sword, but had not yet drawn it.

The eyeseer growled and shoved his dagger back into its sheath.

"Lucky," he grunted, jabbing a finger at Mist, and with that he and the half-orc made their retreat.

The armoured girl looked at Nala, and Mist, and Tzugakk, and she nodded to herself, as if a dull but necessary chore had just been completed.

Without a word, she walked away.

"Hero," Mist whispered, finally finding her voice—she ran to the alley exit, staring after the girl before looking back at Nala. "That was, she was—she's a hero! She saved us, we were saved by a hero ... oh, I should have said something ... thank you at least ... or just 'hello'..."

Nala was frowning at Tzugakk, where he leant against the alley wall.

"You see?" he said, with a pained smile. "Sometimes we have luck."

Nala's frown deepened.

"Luck is not enough," she said. "What we need are tactics."

Mist was still in something of a daze at having been rescued by an actual hero, and so Nala and Tzugakk left her in the infirmary's waiting room while Tzugakk's wounds were tended to.

"Not so bad," Tzugakk said, inspecting the fresh scar on his side. He smiled at Nala. "At least it is cheaper, to heal a monster."

Nala, predictably enough, did not return the smile. Her eyes were on the dim little room's other occupant. He had once been a rather pretty boy. Now there was nothing left in his eyes. There was a hint of decay about him, an air of rot that Amanda did not possess—his hand, Nala saw. It had been severed and then sewn back on, but not in the same way Praetorian had repaired Amanda. Ordinary needle and thread disrupts the binding, Nala thought, remembering Praetorian's words. They do not respect monsters here. They do not care about undead, except for vampires. Why? Because vampires are powerful. 'High-tier'. Strength is what matters here. Strength and merits.

Tzugakk sighed, and Nala looked at him.

"I am thinking," he said. "About this place. About us, and the others. You still haven't told them—"

"I have invited them here. When they are gathered, I will tell them."

"They will argue. They will refuse to fight—they will be correct! Nala, you have two demerits left. Please do not fight so hard for my sake. I'm truly not worth it. Soon I will be gone from this place—"

"No."

"You will be stronger without me—"

"That is not true. That is never true. You are necessary, you know this, why are you saying these things now? Because you were injured? But you have been hurt before, many times."

"Maybe my heart has been hurt."

"I don't understand what that means."

"Maybe you were right. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe 'from' is enough and we need no 'to', maybe escape would be enough—"

"Escape is a dream."

Tzugakk stared at Nala. She took her necklace in hand, held it up so the safehold shard's blue-green glow could be seen.

"Safehold Shards," she said. "BrightCircles. They bind us here. They are our shackles."

Tzugakk looked down at the bracelet of braided hair he wore around his wrist, at the safehold shard nestled within.

"Maybe there's a way," he murmured.

Nala let her necklace drop against her breast.

"I will not stop searching for escape," she said. "But until I find a way out we must survive. We will learn their rules and play their games. We have no other choice."

"But to fight in the tournament! Is there any hope against fighters and mages and vampires and elves? It seems impossible, I cannot—"

"Tzugakk."

Tzugakk looked up at Nala, at her impassive face.

"My stealth," she said. "Your poison flasks. Sly's cursed bow. Amanda's cursed body. Mist's perceived weakness. Praetorian's link with Amanda. All of these things, together, create hope."

Tzugakk sighed at his feet.

"Tzugakk," Nala repeated. Once more he looked at her. "We came here together. We will leave here together."

Tzugakk smiled ruefully.

"Be careful what you wish for," he said.

"Oh dear gods they've put him with the goblins."

Through the door strode a vampire girl, tall and pale with raven-black hair, her long dark dress swishing around her as she approached the zombie boy.

"Ugh, I don't know why we even bother, tradition I suppose. Are you two going to claim this one as well?"

The girl spoke without looking at Nala and Tzugakk, continued before they could reply:

"Too bad if you were, he's already one of ours. Stolen, would you believe, by that little upstart Fearson and his band of tawdry mid-tiers. I simply cannot fathom why Travian would throw in with their like, but then again I suppose he always was one to enjoy the baser elements of this place. Did I introduce myself at our last meeting? I don't believe I did." The vampire girl turned her coldly amused eyes upon Nala and Tzugakk, and raised her skirt in a sweeping curtsy. "Yours is a singular honour; the one who stands before you is Violet Blaze of the Seventh House. Now you may be wondering why I'd seek to make your acquaintance, Nala Greyward, or indeed why on earth I would ever bother to learn your name, but the truth of it is that you've gone and made yourself mildly fascinating." Violet leant forward, a hand beneath her chin, the smile on her face dazzlingly vicious. "Is it true? Have you honestly and truly entered your hideously diverse little party into the tournament? Oh you precious thing, you precious precious thing, to think that the likes of you could share the field with us, it's such an outrageous thought that I believe I may laugh aloud."

Nala kept her gaze upon Violet's face as the vampire girl smiled. Tzugakk continued staring at the floor.

"But I shouldn't be overly cruel," Violet continued. "Shall I tell you something good? Because it's clear that you have utterly no clue as to the way things are in this place. We're going to win. Vampires always win. Oh, sometimes we let the elves have one as a show of good faith, but this year? No, the team they're fielding is just, ugh, far too unconventional, all of these fiddly new class combinations, nothing like the classics. That's the problem with elves, isn't it. Far too chaotic. I suppose that's not a problem for you goblins, with your ever-so-dull neutrality."

"I am not a goblin," Nala said. "I am a dwarf."

"Oh? Oh really? I just assumed, with your face and all. Rather lacking in something, isn't it. The barest glimmer of attractiveness, of course, but that's to be expected. No, you're missing something else, a certain mark upon that grubby little cheek of yours—could it be that you're casteless? Oh my, not just a dwarf but a gutter dwarf! Literally the lowest of the low!"

Nala waited for Violet to finish laughing before she spoke:

"Yes. I am casteless. I have no gods; I have no masters."

"Oh you are adorable. By the way, you won't have heard about this, there's been a new rule introduced. Defeats in the prelims WILL earn you demerits. There was rather a lot of scandal last year, cheating and cronyism and so forth, low-tiers being paid to take a fall, I suppose this is meant to discourage that manner of detestable behaviour. Makes things rather risky for your friend there, a little birdie told me that he was down to his last demerit ... well, must be off! Come along, Floppy."

Violet beckoned to the zombie boy sitting in the corner, then swept out in a swirl of dark spirals and the scent of velvet orchids. The zombie shakily rose then lurched after her.

Tzugakk turned his worried gaze from the zombie's back to his friend's slumped shoulders.

"Nala," he said, in his soft and careful way. "When did you last sleep? Have you been eating?"

"Dwarves are known for their stamina."

"No, no no, you're pushing yourself so hard, Nala, too hard—"

"There's too much that I don't know. There are twenty-seven different arenas but I only have maps for fourteen of them. I have found reports from previous years but they're not objective, often incomplete. Solid facts are rare. There are so many rules. I still have not heard a match myself—why are you smiling?"

"I was thinking about Praetorian."

"And the thought of him caused you to smile?"

"He often says 'fate', it is his word. Do I believe? Yes, no, sometimes yes, sometimes no. Coming here, me with you, or you with me, maybe there is some fate there."

"I came here because the only other choice was an assurance of death."

"'An assurance of death', this is not how you talked, Nala. Not before. There is something about this place, have you noticed? Bright Battle Academy. This place changes people—no, no, it unlocks them."

There was a soft chime from Nala's BrightCircle. She spoke without looking up:

"The others are in the waiting room."