Gunnar shook his head and turned to Em. “You can’t be serious. What about the Nighthawks? You think they will approve of something like this?”

Em shrugged. “Only way we have to find out is if we fail.”

“How would they not find out?”

“Look, Sykes should have won our first showdown. Instead, his properties were damaged in very public fires, and he had nothing to show for it. He is not going to announce to the world that he was bested by the Cryptids again, if one of his mermaids goes missing. It’s between him and us, so long as we don’t do something high profile and dumb.”

Gunnar sighed but accepted the quest.

Grippa seized his hand in a fierce shake. “Thank you, Gunnar. This means the world to me, and even more for my friend.”

“I just hope it’s not a mistake. Do you know anything about where Sykes keeps his mermaids?”

Grippa shook his head. “I thought you were familiar with this place.”

“I am,” Gunnar said. “But only from a patron’s point of view. Sykes never trusted me apparently, and he sure as hell didn’t let me peek behind the curtain.”

“Well, I happen to recall that you saw at least one of these mermaid shows,” Em said.

Gunnar tried to fight back a blush. “Not intentionally. All I know is the mermaids drop out the bottom of the tank when the show’s over. Maybe they’re in some sort of holding area down below. Or maybe he takes them someplace else. I don’t know. The real question is how we’d even get inside the Mermaid without being spotted by one of Sykes’s cronies.”

“Perhaps some sort of distraction,” Grippa said. “Something to evacuate the building.”

Cork lit up at this. “I heard a job another group of hobos used to pull in the markets of Polydenem. One of them would feign an illness. Some sort of plague or pox or something with makeup of some kind. They’d get everybody running, and in the chaos, they’d snatch up food and gear and all sorts of things people left behind in the madness. I could picture Hank performing such a role very well.”

Gunnar tried not to laugh at the dwarf’s entirely serious and scathing expression when he mentioned the kobold’s name.

Em answered for the both of them. “What part of not doing anything high profile didn’t you understand?”

Cork merely shrugged. “I guess I just liked the picture of it.”

“Perhaps something outside the place?” Grippa asked. “Draw everyone out somehow? Maybe a duel or another fire.”

“Another fire would be too obvious,” Cork said.

Gunnar nodded, thinking about what Azmar had recommended about side quests. He now suspected the creature had been giving him some sort of hint. “The place is dead until late morning, which could actually give us a solid window with only a couple of people around. I think Stealth is our best option. Break in after things shut down for the night. Sneak in, sneak out. Should have a decent amount of time to carry things out, assuming we don’t get spotted. And hopefully no one is the wiser until late morning.”

“By then, we’ll be away at sea,” Em said with a grin.

***

There were further preparations to be made before Gunnar left. The council spent significant time discussing group roles for the Cryptid members, particularly who would be suited to robbing trader caravans, as well as strategies to ensure that these illicit sources of income did not bring anyone to the crypt’s doors. They discussed food, goods distribution, housing, and plans for a training regimen.

But Gunnar and Em soon left the crypt, taking the entrance into the western part of the city.

It was a little strange to think he would likely not be back for quite some time. Despite the fact that they’d hardly begun cleaning it up, the crypt still already felt like his home in this place.

After all, it was his place. His people.

There was a certain level of comfort with them he’d experienced nowhere else in this world. With the Nighthawks, he had to tread carefully, try to prove himself, try not to fail or risk screwing up his future. Somehow, the stakes felt lower with the Cryptids.

Though he suspected the very reason this second faction had become available to him was so he would have to strike a balance. If he focused too much on the Cryptids, it could hold him back from the sort of advancement he needed. Not unlike his pursuit of a second class. If he worked things right, both the Cryptids and his magic pursuits could become indispensable complements for him. But he had to be careful.

Em reached a corner and turned to him, smirking. “You know, you look constipated when you’re thinking too hard.”

Gunnar shook his head. “You always know how to make a guy feel special.”

“Hey, I never signed up to kiss your ass.”

“My ass is the last thing I’d like kissed.”

She smiled and turned away.

They stood at the end of an alley, about to enter a busy market. Behind them, a small group of kids was playing some sort of game that involved a bouncing ball and little sticks.

Both of them pulled their hoods up, but Em gripped his hand before they ventured on.

“What’s wrong?” Gunnar asked.

Em shook her head. “The compound is not much farther. We’ll want to move quick through the market, but probably not together. Just follow a ways behind me. There’s a green door in an alley two blocks up, behind a pub called the Tilted Cauldron.”

“Got it. Lead the way then.”

But Em paused for a moment and peered at him.

“Are you mad at me?”

“About the constipation thing?”

Em chuckled again at her own jibe. “No, about the mermaid thing.”

He shrugged. “Just don’t want to mess things up right before we ship out on my first real quest.”

“You wanted democracy, remember? That means sometimes you’re gonna get outvoted.”

“It’s fine. I just don’t see why you care about this whole thing in the first place.”

Em looked him straight on, her emerald eyes piercing. “I keep thinking about the night of the party. I hated seeing what Dravingdel was doing to the poor creatures he locked up down there. Maybe it’s silly, since none of this is—you know—real.”

“It’s not silly. I felt the same way.”

“I wanted to help you free those slaves on that ship, but I let my own head get in the way. I guess I regret letting you go alone.”

“Guess we kinda switched roles there for a moment, huh?” Gunnar said. “You’re throwing caution to the wind to help someone, and I’m trying to suck up to the Nighthawks.”

“Don’t let this place change who you are, Gunnar. You’re one of the good ones.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“You are,” Em said.

“Well, I think you are too.”

Her hand clasped his cloak and she drew nearer. “You know, tthe slaves aren’t the only thing I’ve been thinking about from that night.”

Gunnar’s heart began to beat faster as her warm breaths brushed his skin. “Yeah?”

She patted his chest and grinned. “But we’re running out of time. I’ll have to tell you later.”

And with that, she ventured into the streets. Gunnar just shook his head as he watched her go.

He waited about thirty seconds, then followed Em into the crowd.

***

From the outside, the Nighthawk compound looked like a shitty door leading into an even shittier building. Like other discreet entrances he’d encountered, Scan revealed no information about what lay beyond. This was not a dead giveaway though, since there were many nondescript doors that simply bore no importance for players of the game, and Gunnar had seen countless NPCs coming in and out of such doors during his time in Pantheon.

Since this particular door only opened for members of the Nighthawks—presumably due to some sort of enchantment—Gunnar doubted anyone paid it any mind. Particularly in this drab quarter of the city.

The interior, however, stood in stark contrast. Everything was fashioned from sleek and ornately-carved wood and stone. The halls were lined with busts that reminded Gunnar of something from ancient Rome. The building outside was only two stories high, but this place seemed to defy those confinements, with towering vaulted ceilings decorated with historical-looking paintings, and several large staircases leading to hall after hall.

The corridors bustled with activity, cloaked members hurrying between rooms and stopping to discuss matters in hushed tones.

Gunnar caught up with Em halfway across the entrance hall, speaking with a broad-shouldered man at the base of one of the staircases.

Em laughed at something the man said, but Gunnar missed whatever the joke was.

He merely smiled.

“Good times,” said the man, whose sharp features were immediately apparent.

Em kept chuckling.

“You must be Gunnar,” the man said.

He nodded. “And you are?”

“Your new competition,” the man said.

Gunnar was not sure what to say. Was he talking about Em?

“In Mavenport,” the man said with a bemused glance at Em. “All the new recruits are out to prove themselves to the masters. And you’ve made a few waves this past week. So you can be damn sure we’re all gunning to show you up—pun intended.”

Great, Gunnar thought, not seeing why the man sounded so cheerful about what he’d just described. He thought he’d passed the brutal competition of Thailen after he passed his trials.

The broad-shouldered man clapped him on the shoulder. “Name’s Keto. Like the diet. I thought I was being unique, but apparently it’s a fairly popular name in the empire. Means something totally different here though.”

“Guess you should have gone with Paleo,” Gunnar said.

Keto grinned. “Hey, look, you do have a sense of humor! Don’t worry, I hear we’re on the same crew, so I was only half-joking about showing you up—if you look good, I should too—but can’t say the same for all these bozos.”

He gestured to the vast entrance chamber, and Gunnar noticed at least a couple people glance away as he scanned the room.

“But I should get going,” Keto said, grasping Em’s hand with both of his own. “You’ll have to tell me more when we ship out. But I’ll catch ya later.”

Gunnar glowered after him as Keto hurried off with a gait that somehow evoked a strut and a power walk at the same time.

“Who’s he, exactly?”

“We went through the trials together. Actually, there were three of us.”

“Three on the same trial?”

“I had a trainer who liked to play us on our strengths. Not every mentor is like Sykes.”

Gunnar shrugged. “Well, lucky you for finding an exception.”

“Keto’s obnoxious sometimes, but he’s a good guy to have watching your back.”

“Seems more like a typical dumb tank to me.”

“Oh, he is a tank, you can be sure about that. But he’s smarter than most.”

“The obnoxious ones always are.”

“You’ve got plenty of enemies already, Gunnar. No need to make more on your own. Now, come on, let’s get stocked up.”