Eric tilted his beak. “I will be happy to answer your question. But first, for our mutual safety… are any of you under direct orders to kill any particular party who might be in alliance with the Sylvan Faction, or report anything said here back to the Chieftan, or anyone else?”

Samantha's eyes widened. She turned to her husband who was at that moment scratching under the hem of his hardboiled rawhide armor. "Husband?"

Peter shook his head. "Right now, the chieftan's only direct orders are that no one is allowed to strike at him under any circumstances, and to rush to his side if he rings his bell. Of course, there are the three javelineers serving as his personal guard at all times. But they've long since proven they're orc alliance all the way."

The muscular man flashed a fierce smile. “He doesn’t trust his underlings enough to give anyone else anything but the most tentative power over us. And since he needs us to keep the sewers and buildings both clear of infestation and replenish our perpetually dwindling food supplies, most of us are either hunting rats, or just staying out of his way and living our lives as best we can. As long as we’re leveling up and providing food, as long as he can summon us in an emergency, he doesn't bother us any more than he does his own champions."

He shook his head bitterly. "We're like prized hounds. Used when needed, otherwise left in the kennel. Expecting us to be grateful and loyal that we have the run of the city, even after he butchered thousands and fed thousands more to that damned pod, just to make a handful of us so-called champions."

The man spat his contempt.

“Peter, not in the house!” Samantha snapped, earning a wince from her husband. “Not that I don’t feel the same.” She shook her head and sighed. “And it says something about how horrific conditions are here for people who don’t have adventurers in their family that the goblins are offering to buy humans as cheap indentured servants. ‘Voluntarily,’ they say, the bastards.”

Eric squawked at this. "What? The goblins are buying up people as slaves?”

Peggy laughed bitterly. "Oh no. At least not according to their fancy legalees way of putting it. Instead they claim we're already property owned by the orcs, and they are liberating us by assuming our contracts and freeing us from imminent peril. In return, they ask only that we buy off our contracts.”

Linus snorted. “By working for them, at rates so miserly that they can’t even afford the paltry food and cheap synthetic blankets they get to sleep in! At least if they were outright slaves, basic necessities would be covered. But from what Professor Stetson told us, the goblins actually charge their ‘indentured servants’ the cost of food, clothing, and shelter out of wages so miserable their forced further into debt, with no hope in hell of ever being able to pay the cost of their original indenture.”

Eric’s feather’s ruffled in outrage. “Now that’s just evil. You’re effectively enslaving someone in a way that makes them feel like it’s their fault, and that it’s somehow their responsibility to escape it playing a game they can never hope to win. When at least with a metal collar and up-front exploitation, you can feel perfectly justified breaking free of it.”

Samantha nodded. “And it’s the goblins that managed to gain rights over most of the mercantile functions of this planet. Save for the Blue Faction, they’re the only game in town.”

Eric let loose a despondent caw. "These goblins are even worse than I thought! And this isn't the first time I've heard about this opposing Blue Faction. Are they actually the good guys, or just another faction eager to exploit us survivors?"

Samantha shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Now that we were good enough to answer some of your questions, perhaps you can answer some of ours?”

Eric nodded. “I’d be happy to.”

“Alright, question one,” she said, taking a sip of the tea a quiet Peggy had prepared for her before taking her sleeping baby brother into her arms, as Samantha slipped into what Eric thought must be pure interrogation mode. “Are you yourself an elf, the familiar of an elf, or someone working for the Sylvan Alliance?”

Eric shrugged, earning a frown. “I’m not an elf… or, at least not to the best of my knowledge. And I’m not exactly working for them. It’s more like we have common interests.”

“How the hell do you not know if you’re an elf?” said a scowling Peter.

Linus smirked. “Care to waffle a bit more with that last answer?”

The crow sighed. "Alright, bottom line is this. I want those porcine bastards that invaded our world and made our city a living hell gone. And I made a deal with the elves to make that happen. In return, they’re going to treat the surviving humans with dignity and allow them to live peacefully here. As for all those that took an orc class...”

He paused, noting the anxious look Samantha gave her husband, whose face had become a mask, hard as stone, as if awaiting judgment.

“All actions committed in the pursuit of survival can be forgiven, they said, so long as assistance is given in the hour of greatest need,” the crow hastily said. “That way, Commander Valorn will be able to spin it to the other clans that you effectively infiltrated the orcs and took on the ‘burden’ of their classes in order to get in position to level the playing field against our enemies.”

Linus blinked, a relieved smile coming over his features. “Wait, so there’s a way we can pass through elven lands without getting killed on sight? After what the orcs told us...” he shook his head, chuckling ruefully. “And why would I believe anything those pig-faced assholes said anyway?”

But Samantha had paled. “No. There is no way I’m letting your elven friends put my husband and son on the front lines of a war they never asked to be a part of, just so they earn the right not to be hated for a class they never had any choice in choosing!” she gave an angry shake of her head.

“And I argued the exact same point,” Eric quickly assured. “Believe me, the last thing I want to do is ruffle your feathers! And not to crow too much, the deal I struck was beak-solid!”

Peggy couldn’t quite hold back a snort. “That’s just terrible.”

“Outright fowl,” Eric agreed to a quartet of groans. “So instead of any front-line assault, if we can take care of the cannons, we're batting a thousand, and all the javelineers and their families can gather up and leave in the southeast corner. And you don't need me to tell you to only share this info with those you trust not to stab you in the back, unlike Rich and his band, who were just as rotten as you suspected!”

Peter frowned. “Those cannons and the powder reserves are kept at Grand Central station under some pretty heavy orcish guard. About the only place even their pet humans aren't allowed access to."

The crow tilted his beak. "Grand Central station?"

Linus smirked. “Not New York.”

“Oh, I know,” said Eric, awkwardly preening his feathers.

“But this city has its own version, just smaller and shoddier in every way,” Linus snarked, before flashing an evil grin. “But can you imagine the look on their faces if everything suddenly went off in a titanic explosion?”

Samantha, however, was looking increasingly agitated. "No. No way in hell am I going to risk you getting blown to smithereens, Linus! I don't care how strong or tough you think you are. You think you could take on an elephant, a rhino? Because both of those sorry creatures would be shredded by the grapeshot fired from a single cannon, and those bastards have at least eight cannons. Eight! So you're going to promise my right now, Linus Ferkins, that you are not going to get involved in any crazy suicide missions!"

Peter nodded in complete support of his wife.

But Eric noted the way Linus folded his arms, glaring at his parents, recognizing that prickly stance all too well.

"I'm level eighteen. Same as Dad. We worked our asses off hunting every day, and hunting smart, to get here. We joined three teams and let them take the lion's share of everything, just so we could train, level, and learn from the best, dad pushing me and Peggy and himself, just like in his drill sergeant days, so damned determined to make us all we could be! He didn't even care that all we got were scraps, and that we’re still living on all the crates of canned food and boxed noodles that we grabbed months ago, in the same apartment we’ve had for the last five years! Work first, enjoy the rewards later, he'd say. Even when we fled into the tunnels just to escape all the screams above!”

He gave an angry shake of his head. "And Dad was right. All that sweat and work and constant grinding really did pay off. Because the three of us, working together? We’re some of the strongest you’ll find in the whole damn city, mom. A damn sight stronger than most of the lazy assholes who hunt just a couple times a week when they're not busy getting drunk or high or otherwise partying their asses off with all the college groupies desperate for safety. And who can fucking blame them? No need for anyone to touch that orc rat-gut poison. Not really. Arron's got half the city rooftops growing some fine-looking buds, and Ricardo's distilleries make spirits that are actually drinkable."

“Linus, you’re only seventeen!” His mother snapped.

“And you’d better not be drinking before we do our runs,” his father added.

"Of course not, Dad. And my Vitality's through the roof. So what the hell does it even matter? The point is, I can take care of myself. Better than any human could, even a fucking Olympian martial artist, just half a year ago.”

“And you’re still my son!” Samantha sobbed. “Living in a world with orcs and rat monster spawning sewers! And unlike your fantasy games, gunpowder is still a thing here! Even if they’re limited to cannons and flintlocks, without a revolver in sight, it’s still enough to kill you!”

Peggy nodded. “Mom’s right, bro.”

Eric cawed in agreement. “I agree.”

Linus blinked, turning to Eric. “Wait… you’re agreeing with my mom now, after pushing for us to take out the damned artillery?” He smirked. “What, are you afraid I’ll get hurt? Or is this a no kids thing?”

Eric chuckled, an odd thing for a crow. “That would be kind of hypocritical, since I’m only a year older than you. But the last thing I want is the death of a hardworking idealist with a bright future dying on a mission that, let’s be honest, is a bit suicidal.”

Samantha gave the crow a strange look. “I commend your concern for my son. But you’re certainly not selling the mission.”

Eric sighed. "Because the more I think about it… the more certain I am that a frontal assault is not the way to go. Not when they're transporting the cannons to any hot zone." He nodded to himself, as if coming to a sudden resolution. "Fortunately, so long as the cannons are out of action, you and your families are free to leave. No one says you guys actually have to be the ones to take them out."

Samantha smiled. “I’ll be honest, I’d love nothing more than to be able to leave safely with my family and get to Sanctuary or Freetown, or one of the other independent cities. If you could help this come to pass, our family would certainly be in your debt, Eric.”

Eric thoughtfully nibbled an extra handful of crackers a grinning Peggy handed him. "I don't suppose you can give me any useful info about this Grand Central station?"

“Afraid not," Peter sighed. "It's amazing how much we relied on the internet for everything." He chuckled softly. "An encyclopedia and some how-to manuals would have been a damned useful resource, this past half-year."

Samantha also shook her head in apology, but surprisingly it was Peggy who gave Eric a cheerful nod. “Finally, I can be a part of this little revolution,” she said with a grin, stroking Eric’s feathers, and he was happy to let her. “Come on, let me take you to my room. I have a beautiful book Aunt Marthy gifted me with containing pictures and layouts of all the buildings of historical significance in Gilton.”

She flashed Eric a confidential smile when they got to her room and he found himself rapidly scanning what seemed to him to be surprisingly detailed blueprints for a coffee table book, in addition to some stunning photography. "I was majoring in architecture before, well… anyway, I wanted to ask, what level and class are you, Eric? And wait, if you’re one year older than Linus, that means you’re one year younger than me! No age limits on the arcane arts, though, right? And that’s gotta be a pretty awesome spell you have that lets you transform into a bird. Or is it a node perk for a specialized class?” she queried, stroking his feathers once more, before flushing prettily at the crow’s continued silence.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to break any sort of mage etiquette thing! I’m just eager to learn whatever I can that will open up a class for me that’s actually worth taking.”

Eric cawed politely. “Don’t worry about it. And as for my present shape, let’s just say I had some help from my mentor and leave it at that, shall we?”

Fortunately, that answer was enough to reassure a once-more smiling Peggy.

“Fair enough. And between you and me? I’d love to be able to escape this place. I don’t dare enter this city’s pod a second time to see if there are any decent class upgrades available to me, because if you don’t take whatever class the shaman wants you to, you can end up very, very dead.”

Her eyes grew haunted with memories Eric could all to easily imagine the gist of, before shaking her head and putting on a determinedly cheerful front.

“Still, I can’t tell you how exciting it is to meet another magic user,” she said, holding up her two wands. “From the little bit Professor Stetson was able to parse from rumors and old contacts, humans don’t really get a lot of wizardly professions to choose from. Supposedly we’re nowhere near as naturally gifted as elves and such… but there should still be some arcane classes open to us, even those who aren’t natural prodigies. Most especially if we practice! If nothing else, these wands should open up classes that have to do with using magical tools and casting spells that way, just like a Gunner class character can make his own guns in my favorite...” she shook her head and sighed. “But this isn’t FF-17, and there are no gunners here, I guess. But still, there should be a class that lets you not only cast spells from wands, but even make your own magical items, don’t you think?”

Eric shrugged his wings. "Honestly, Peggy, I have no idea." He instantly felt bad when he saw the way her face fell. "But considering that fantastically clever wand you made to summon rats… and how the hell did you do that? There has to be a class for it. I mean, you figured that out as a Conscript, right? How remarkable is that?"

Her crestfallen look immediately turned to a perky grin. “I know, right? Even though there was no sign of any payoff, I kept putting one point in my Mana Pool every single level. At first, Dad and Linus thought I was being a complete idiot, and I halfway thought they were right, until suddenly, bam! It's like a veil was lifted from my eyes, and I could finally see! Or at least… sense magic. Or something. And when I found that broken wand crackling with some kind of delicious energy, I devoted way too many hours trying to understand what it was doing, why it was doing it, to visualize it like I used to visualize electronic configurations and just, well… feel in my mind what was going on. Then one day I woke up with Artificer skill at Rank 1, and slowly but surely… I've been leveling it up."

She flashed a cheeky grin. “My happiest day was when my skill boosted up after I tweaked that wand and turned it into a stun baton to shock the rats dad and bro would pin and corner for me. And just last night, I had this major epiphany and spent the whole night drawing and tinkering with all these parts from various rats that I could just feel brimming with... something."

Sitting cross-legged on her bed in tight jeans and a denim shirt, she gazed fondly at the arcane tool now in her hands. “I was originally going to sell them to the goblins, thinking they were beast cores. Then I thought they’d probably treat me with the same contempt settlers once treated Native Americans, trading gold for beads, so then I thought, ‘The hell with that,’ I’ll save it for myself!’ And I didn’t even know what I was saving it for, until, well, I made this!”

She held up her bone fetish covered in dangling bits of string, leather, and smaller bones. “And now I can actually summon creatures. Does that make me a Summoner?”

Eric tilted his beak. “Maybe?”

She grinned, then winced. “And here I am, probably coming off like a complete oddball, a girl showing off her necro-summoning wand. ‘Way to make a great first impression, Peggy.’”

Eric waved off her concern with a wing.

“No worries, you’re fine. Honestly, I find the fact that you actually made your own summoning wand absolutely fascinating!”

Tilted her head curiously. “Eric?”

“Yes?”

“What do you look like when you’re not a crow?”

Eric sighed. “I look like a poor SOB that got his face seared off with a skillet.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously. Or at least… I did.” Eric ruffled his feathers uncomfortably. “Now I just look like, I don’t know, someone who got a bit too intense with the scar tattoo thing? Definitely an improvement over when I first popped out of the pod, I’ll tell you that.”

Peggy frowned, curling a lock of sandy blond hair around her finger. "I thought the pod was supposed to cure everything if you survived it?" Her cheeks colored. "And thank god it did. When I found out I had..." She gave an abrupt shake of his head. “Not that it matters now."

Eric dipped his beak. “So far as I know, that’s normally the case. I was just an exception.” He gave a pleased caw when he finally spied in blueprints and pictures in the book he was looking through that which he was most eager to see. “Alright, I think we’re ready to go!”

Several minutes later, Eric was animatedly discussing his budding plan with the family, pleased to see thoughtful frowns turn to hesitant nods, all of them finally reaching a consensus by the time morning was well and truly upon them.

“So, we’re agreed. Once I give the signal in the next handful of days, those of you who wish to stay or gain status with the Sylvan fashion will strike at the places we agreed. Everyone else who wishes safe passage out of the city to Freetown will be granted it. Any final questions?”

Samantha smiled and shook her head. “If you can really get us out of here, get all our families out of here, especially if we don’t have to risk our lives doing it? You’ll have the lifelong gratitude of a lot of people.”

Eric cawed happily. "Glad to help! And the elves will be glad to have a few less people to worry about in the upcoming conflict!"

She chuckled throatily, allowing Eric to perch on her wrist. “Wonderful. Let me see you out.” And the minute the door behind her closed, her honey-warm smile turned hard. "I truly hope you're not fucking with us, Eric."

Eric solemnly shook his beak. “Not at all, ma’am.” “

“Good.” She sighed, her gaze becoming strangely intent. “We danced around the subject so well, we all avoided a word on it being said. But as I am bound by no oaths, let me risk saying what must be said.” She glanced furtively around, even here, just outside her own apartment, on a floor otherwise abandoned. “You know who has to go down if my boys, if any of us, will truly be free.”

Eric bobbed his beak. “I do.”

“Then how...” she abruptly shook her head. “No, best I don’t know a thing.” She gazed at Eric for long moments and Eric just stared back, surprised Morlekai hadn’t taken over yet, because he really didn’t envy waddling down the corridor on his talons, still having no idea how to fly.

“Was it you?”

Eric blinked, understanding what she must be talking about. He tilted his beak thoughtfully. “Did you know that titles conferring stat bonuses are a thing, in this new reality?”

This earned him a bemused smile. “Actually I did not, sir crow.”

Eric bobbed his head. "Indeed. In point of fact there's this nifty title called Lightning Marksman that gives a sweet accuracy bonus. Of course, like all titles, you have to accomplish something significant to earn it. Like, say… a kill shot that breaks the sound barrier, unleashing arrows with enough kinetic force to rip through soft targets like an M82 sniper rifle.”

Samantha flashed a hard smile. “That would be a pretty neat trick for a crow.”

“Wouldn’t it?” he cawed.

Her gaze turned grim. “So why stop with just one?”

Eric turned his beak to face her as she breathed words that could never be taken back. “If you really want to free all the bound champions trapped in this city, there is one bad apple in particular that needs to go. And as to how you would even accomplish that, with him now refusing to even leave his throne room?" She flashed a sad smile. "Your guess is as good as mine. So, still think you can rescue this doomed town?”

When the crow didn’t hesitate to nod, she bit her lip in frozen uncertainty before at last whispering some parting words to the crow.

Only then did Eric feel himself being pulled free of the dream of being a crow, much like he was pulled to wakefulness after even the most sweetest dreams, finding himself hunched over and groaning as vertigo overcame him, before raising his eyes to meet a once more intact Morlekai’s own.

“So, what do you think?”

His friend flashed a hard smile. “I think your plan’s insane. But knowing you?” He shrugged. “I’ll give it 50/50.”

Eric smirked. “Good enough. How about Samantha’s parting words?”

Morlekai nodded. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She knew straight away that the chieftan has to go down if anything else is going to work, and with the info she gave us… well, we’ll see.”

Eric flashed a fierce, hard smile. “First thing’s first. We hit grand central, and we hit it now.”

Morlekai smirked. “You don’t want to wait a few days, fully flesh out or plan, case out the location?”

Eric solemnly shook his head. “Because if any of them let slip the wrong thing to a single bad apple among them… half a dozen or more cannons loaded and aimed to fire at us is not something any of us wish to face.”

Morlekai furrowed his brow. “True. We should still wait for dusk.”

A smiling Eric shook his head. “Come on, Morlekai. Don’t tell me you weren’t studying those blueprints just as well as I was?”

This earned an eye roll. "Actually no, Eric. I had a dozen other scouts to focus in on. I let you take full control of the one you were riding."

“Ah, that explains a few things. Anyway, they included one crucial feature I think we’ll find very useful.”

“Which was?”

“Access to the sewers.”

Morlekai gazed at Eric for long moments. “I can’t help but recall the utter collapse of the system adjoining our own base.”

Eric nodded. “Which won’t be a problem anywhere else in the city.”

“And why is that?”

Eric gazed at his friend for long moments. "Because all the other dungeons in the city were cleared at least once by the orcs, and all of them were set on easy mode with max rat production. Which assures plenty of game for their champions to level up at least to the late teens on, and most importantly, as far as our enemies are concerned, plenty of rats to fill their bellies, and make their poison brew."

Morlekai smirked. “Do I even want to know how you know this?”

Eric flashed a hard smile, but said nothing.

His friend sighed. "Alright, Eric. As plans go, it's actually solid. Now let's pull up the grand central station on your terminal and see if we can correlate it to sewer blueprints. If we can actually get a match..."

“If it’s not looping oddly in 4-D space with overlapping layers of tunnels...”

“Exactly,” Morlekai said. “Now let’s see if the boys have any good news for us.”

And much to Eric's surprise, even delight, Drake and Louie were all grins over a lunch of fried mystery meat prepared by a happily humming Alice. "Turns out that mild Earth shake might have actually done us a favor," said Drake with a pointed look Eric's way.

This earned a curious look from Morlekai. “How so?”

"Well, once you come out of the maze of corridors leading to our fortified little shelter, and it's amazing how hard it was for me and Louie to find our way back here after we left... So thanks for the pass-code, Eric, and good call on that string, Morlekai. And before you ask, yes, we grabbed it after coming back inside. Anyway, the maintenance rooms underneath the guest floors include both a defunct backup generator, a whole fuck-ton of supplies, and an entrance right to… guess where?"

Morlekai just held the man’s gaze.

Drake chuckled. “That’s right! They lead right to the sewers. So of course Louie and I had to grab Alice...”

“Because I sure as shit don’t want to sit here chain-smoking all day, when I can do something that’s actually exciting,” Alice cut in with a smile. “Besides, I still have to test out the cute little ice javelin wand Eric gave me.”

Louie nodded. "So there we are. Magic light and firepower. And do you know what happened?"

“Not a clue,” Morlekai said.

“Nothing.”

Morlekai blinked at this.

Alice nodded. "Not a damn thing. No rats bigger than a foot or two. Which, granted, was big, too big for normal rats, but no glimmer of dark intelligence, and no three, four, or five foot long monsters! And the air?" She scrunched her pert little nose. "Absolutely foul. Unlike the other tunnels we traverse which are strangely lacking in scent, or just smell like earth and limestone, you knew this was once a sewar, or drainage channels that had septic back-flow at least a couple times a year.”

Morlekai blinked, gazing at his friends for long moments before his features lit up with a pleased smile. “And I’m guessing you saw no other signs of any adventuring parties or the like?”

Drake shook his head. “Not a peep of anything or anyone.”

His smile only grew as he turned to Eric. “I think we both know what this means.”

Eric couldn’t hold back his own fierce grin. “It means that, whatever they were before, the sewar system connecting to the rest of the city is, in fact, just that. The original sewer system, free of any interdimensional twists or turns. No longer at right angles dipping into strange, magical subterranean realms. No mysteries, wonders, or terrors to be found. Even if all the other rat-delves are still intact, whatever odd twists in space and magic might have been connecting them to one another is now gone."

Alice chuckled throatily. “Just the perfect and completely inert underground highway to wherever we need to go!”

“That’s our hope," said Morlekai. "Either way, there’s only one way to be sure. But if it works out...”

“Then we’re just a king away from effectively claiming the board and getting the gold!” Louie enthused.

Morlekai nodded. “So, who’s up for a little sewer crawl?”