Through a combination of browbeating Ceril into acquiescence and flattering him into revealing more than he should, Shin had managed to get a fairly well-sketched idea of what lay in the zone ahead. The elf was tongue-tied while cowed and took liberties while bragging, but after winnowing away all the nonsense and dreck Shin’s knowledge of the zone ranged from geographic layout to general importance to the name of the elf who supposedly commanded there.

In the zone ahead, the lush woodlands they’d found in the last two areas briefly gave way to a stretch of plains, clear cut to allow three great roads to converge on a fortress that guarded the exit north. One path led back into deep forest and the city of Quercus. The other two? Further and onward into the greater world.

Two zones. There had only been two zones between the mongrels’ home and the gateway to the rest of the world. Shin wasn’t sure if that made him more excited, or annoyed, or nervous. Probably all three.

But the larger point was that from this single zone, the kobolds could control and watch any movement that might be headed their way. And once they rebuilt the former waystation, they could have a reasonable series of redoubts protecting Shinki Itten from outside aggression. Shin knew that they could never be fully safe, not in a world with beings like the Players running around? But for now, he’d settle for safer.

But only if they could gain control of this zone. Shin had a few ideas on that matter. Some of them were a bit fanciful, others slower to complete than he’d have preferred. More than a few would not be pretty work. What the specific plan ended up being was entirely nebulous until he had more specific context for the situation in the field, but at least they weren’t going in blind.

Call it pride. Call it rosy prospection. Call it the insidious effects of too much Presence. But for better or worse, Shin was confident. So he shared one final look with his pack, even offering Ceril a companionable nod. And then they all stepped through the barrier to the zone as one.

And immediately found themselves face-to-face with a quite startled-looking Oaken Elf general, clad in full battle regalia as he and a detachment of at least twenty elven warriors found their attempt to exit the zone halted by the sudden appearance of a half-dozen kobolds.

The general, understandably, was a bit taken aback. “Wha–”

––––––––––––––––––––––

Opportunism: Parley

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Shin quickly held up his hands, attempting to put the flustered elves at ease. “We’re friendly; we’re friendly! Are you Lord Derinal?”

The Oaken Elf general didn’t pull his sword any further out of its sheath, a few inches of steel glimmering in the sunlight. Though Shin noted that he didn’t resheath the blade either. “Who are you?” The elf questioned, his eyes narrowing at the strange crew arranged before him. “What are you doing here?”

The kobold gestured towards Ceril, the elven prisoner goggling a confused stare at the general. “We were bringing one of yours back. He said he was a Prince?”

The general stared blankly at Ceril for a moment, then called out to his men without taking his eyes off the group before him. “Do any of you recognize this elf? Or these…people?”

One of the other Oaken Elves, a captain judging by the tassel on his shoulder, raised his voice. “That’s Prince Ceril. Twelfth Prince. He was one of the Rangers at the waystation to the north. No idea who the dog people are.”

Shin cut back in. “We’re kobolds; we just popped in the zone all the way to the north. We found Prince Ceril collapsed at the entrance of our zone a few days ago.”

The elves processed that for a moment, the general glancing over at the captain. “Kobolds?”

“I think they’re evolved mongrels…” The captain started, unsure if he should be amused or awed or suspicious, “Didn’t know mongrels could do that, though.”

“Hm.” The general turned his gaze back on Ceril, carefully weighing what he saw. “Is that what happened?”

Shin honestly had no idea if Ceril would go along with what he’d been told to say or whether he’d attempt to rat them out immediately. The Schemer would have preferred to not have to activate his contingency just yet, but if push came to shove…

Ceril’s response put an end to the need for speculation. “The waystation was attacked by a Red Player. Razed. I’m the only one who made it.”

The general’s lip curled in something bordering on distaste. “You didn’t fight with your fellow rangers, then?”

“No.” Ceril scowled, his back stiffening as he seemingly rediscovered the existence of his own spine. “It was a Red Player. Have you ever seen one of those? And besides, where is Lord Derinal? I have to give my report to him, so if you’ll–”

“Derinal’s dead. I’m his replacement.” The elven general sheathed his sword the rest of the way, shooting Shin a meaningful look. “I just popped into this trees-damned shitshow, too. Follow me.”

And with that he turned, waving for the kobolds to fall in line as he led his troops back into the zone proper. Shin’s mind was already racing as they began to move; Derinal was dead, was he? Clearly something was already afoot here. That might complicate things.

That being said. A complication was merely an opportunity for improvisation. This could prove to be the crack that allowed Shin to gain his toehold in this zone. He’d just have to wait and see.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The fortress that was the central focus of both the zone and Shin’s plan was just a short march further up the path, but instead their Oaken Elf hosts led them to an ad hoc encampment that had been raised a sizable distance from the structure itself. The camp was bustling with activity, elves clad in mail armor drilling with spears and bows as the general led them into the dead center of the activity.

An elf in an officers’ uniform rushed to the general’s side as he approached, carrying an arrow so massive that it was very nearly a spear. And curiously, there was a note impaled upon it. “General Wren, they’ve sent another–”

Wren ripped the note off of the arrow, giving it a quick scan before crumbling it up and shoving it into his pocket. “Stay there, Quartermaster. I want you to listen in on this.” He then bent down to snag a stool from outside a tent, plopped it down in the middle of the camp, and stuck two fingers in his mouth to give a piercingly loud whistle.

As General Wren settled down in his chair, and the eyes of every soldier in the encampment turned to stare at the odd strangers who were now in their midst, it occurred to Shin that the general’s invitation had not been a sign of trust. Far from it. He simply wanted to question them in a place with more weapons pointed their way and more ears to discern potential lies.

Shin realized then that, maybe for the first time in his life, he wasn’t dealing with an absolute fool. How exhilarating.

General Wren folded his arms, then turned his cold eyes on the members of the group one at a time. Bex must have had her Roleplayer’s Mantle activated, because the commanding elf glanced right past the Player as if she was no different than the kobolds to either side of her. Eventually, his firm gaze landed on Shin. “Tell me about this Red Player of yours.”

Good, Shin could start with the lies that were heavily cut with truth. “They came through our zone about a week ago. There wasn’t much to do in our zone then, and they must have gotten bored? Because they attacked the zone’s Quest Giver.”

Wren digested that for a moment before raising his voice for the benefit of his quartermaster, not taking his eyes off of Shin for a second. “What’s the info on the zone he’s talking about?”

“Well, not much.” The elf adjusted his spectacles, pulling up a prompt of some sort. “Mongrels, non-vital human Conquest Hub. One quest, but…” He trailed off, adjusting his glasses again. “But the records have it marked out. The quest is no longer active.”

“Right.” Wren leaned back, arms folded across his chest. “What did these Players look like?”

Shin didn’t need to be able to act to convey extreme disgust. “Ugh, awful. Their mouths were too wide and they had little gross eyes, and they looked exactly like one another.” He shook himself, legitimately unnerved by the mere thought of them. “Just terrible.”

The quartermaster piped in. “The logs from the waystation back that up; the captain there clearly indicated the last two Players to pass through were No Ones.”

“Right. And then a few days later he sends a bird about the Red Player.“ Wren rocked back on his stool’s legs, thoughtfully sucking on a tooth before glancing in Shin’s direction again. “You’re kobolds, you said?” When Shin nodded, Wren leaned forward. “How did you evolve?”

Sometimes the best answer was not to give one. “I have no idea.”

Wren rose up from that, clearly satisfied with the answer as he offered an almost amiable shrug. “Hell if I don’t know what that’s like.” He took stock of the assembled kobolds again, now seeming as if he was analyzing a potential asset rather than staying wary of a possible threat. “So you’ve brought our Prince back to us, then? And you’re here to help?”

Shin nodded as Momo raised her voice, sensing that the time where a single voice was strictly needed had passed. “That’s right, though it seems like things are worse than we’d assumed?”

“Lady, you don’t know the half of it.” He waved his hand, and prompts popped up before every kobold. “Here, join the group.”

Shin, Gero and Momo shared a glance, and once a silent agreement was reached they all clicked Yes on the proffered invitation. Wren immediately flicked his hand and began to scan something, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. The silence dragged on and on, long enough that Shin finally felt like he had to say something. “What are you doing?”

The Oaken Elf general replied without moving his eyes. “Reading your Status Screens.”

Shin heard himself sputtering out a response before he could restrain himself. “You can do that?!”

The kobold’s outburst managed to draw a response from Wrenn, the normally taciturn elf rumbling out a wry chuckle. “We might have both just popped, but I guess I know a few tricks you don’t, eh? Don’t worry; I can only see your stats, traits and skills.”

That…okay, that wasn’t so bad then. Shin absolutely did not want anyone reading his Description, let alone an elven general he’d just met who could absolutely have them all impaled at the snap of a finger. Everything else was probably fine? His full suite of Opportunism options were hidden within another menu, and they weren’t relying on any secrets in anyone else’s sheets.

It didn’t hurt that their class info had recently become more respectable, either. Momo had been upgraded from a Speaker to a Priestess, and Gero had moved on to a Bruiser. Most important was his own semi-official upgrade from Schemer to Tactician; he didn’t know General Wren very well, but Shin had seen enough to assume he was not the sort to trust Schemers.

Wren silently absorbed the Class information of the kobolds, only speaking when he reached someone out of place. “You brought a Villager with you?”

“Koda’s our Blacksmith. We thought he could help restore the waystation. Besides, aren’t Oaken Elves the masters of metalcraft? We thought the chance for our village smith to learn from true craftsmen was too rare to pass up.”

“Pfft!” Wrenn let out an amused breath. “Good, that’s good stuff. You’ve certainly prepared for this meeting.” He cocked an eyebrow at Ceril, turning his evaluating gaze on his own Prince this time. “I just wonder if he told you that you should flatter us? Or if you’ve just been around him long enough to have figured that out for yourselves.”

A brief flash of concern spiked through Shin’s chest. “We–”

“No, no; I don’t blame you.” The general held up a reassuring hand. “I was only in Quercus for half a day, but I also–”

“General Wren!”

The stoic elf sighed, rubbing at his temple. “Perfect timing.”

The flaps of the tent burst open, revealing a pair of deeply affronted Oaken Elf officers. Their uniforms were ornate and ostentatious, significantly grander than the one worn by the general despite the fact that their tassels marked them as mere majors. Unimpeded by the gulf in rank, both elves marched straight up to their superior officer, completely ignoring the kobolds as the shorter of the two shook a finger at Wren. “Once again: the Lady demands that you allow her to return to Quercus at once! She simply cannot be absent from the Ever-Growing City for a moment longer!

Wren/s mouth was as hard and sharp as a dagger’s edge. “She can’t go. I need to access her Royal Coins.”

The taller elf huffed and puffed. “My dear Wren, the Lady–”

“General Wren.”

The major rolled his eyes. “General Wren, you had no right to conscript the Lady for this, this…this lark!”

“Lark?” The general stepped forward, towering over both of his underlings. “The protection of our people is a lark?”

“Oh pish posh; you’re always so dramatic.” The short elf waved his hand dismissively. “Look, just get this done already, will you? Retake the fortress and spend your Coins so the Lady can…” He trailed off, finally noticing the kobolds. “Who are these–?!” He finally noticed the elf in their company. “Prince Ceril?!”

Ceril drew himself up, intensely pleased to have finally been recognized. “Indeed, I am–”

The taller elf cut in. “You didn’t get slaughtered?”

Ceril blinked. “Um, no?”

The two majors shared a glance, shrugged, and then promptly went back to ignoring the prince. The tall one’s lip curled as he eyed the kobolds up and down, one hand wrapping around the hilt of the dagger he had clearly never used. “And the reason these beasts are among us is…?”

“They brought their smith.” Wren deadpanned. “He’s here to learn at the feet of the masters of metalcraft.”

“Ha! I say, haha!” The elf clutched at his belly as he chortled, his shorter compatriot beaming in arrogant pride. “That’s true; too true! But what use would there be in showing an animal our enlightened techniques?”

Wren eyed Shin, clearly waiting to see how the kobold would respond. Interesting. “The distance between us may be too great, it’s true. But if one is to grow, mustn’t their reach exceed their grasp?”

The brows of the two elves furrowed, failing to grasp Shin’s meaning and clearly opting to take it as mockery. The short elf scowled at Mimasu as the scribe quickly began to scratch down Shin’s statement. “What is he doing?”

“Our scribe!” Shin adopted his most ingratiating smile, recognizing this as his last chance to smooth things over. “We wanted to record every moment of our first meeting with the Proud Oaken Elves, so that every word and deed may be poured over by generations to come!”

The majors certainly understood that. Both elves practically exploded with self-indulgent pride at Shin’s flattery, any thoughts or concerns they might have previously had stricken from their hearts by the Schemer’s obsequious words. “Well good!” The taller one preened, reaching out to give Shin an entirely unwelcome pat on the head. “These dogs know their place.”

“Unlike some people.” The shorter one remarked, unsubtly side-eyeing his general. “Some people whom I won’t specify.”

General Wren grunted. “Both of you get the fuck out of here.”

The two elves shared a deeply aggrieved look, their previous pleasure already discarded for their new, intensely offended state of minds. “Well. I say, well.” The tall one turned back towards the tent, his nose lifted arrogantly. “Clearly one cannot learn proper decorum or dignity without the proper time spent at court. So let me simply repeat that the Lady wishes to leave immediately, and bwah~!!”

The officer squawked as Wren put a boot into his backside, giving him a kick that sent him tumbling back into the tent as his companion yelped and hurried after him. The general spat on the ground, his eyes hard as he stared at the tent in distaste. “I swear, everyone who spends two days in Quercus winds up just like them. If I never go back there, more’s the better. Fuck.”

Gero offered a low whistle. “Nice kick.”

The general straightened, his voice back to its usual professional timbre. “Thank you.” He turned back towards the kobolds, silently motioning for Shin to step closer. Once he had, the elf spoke in a voice for his ears only. “Listen. You want to help, do you?”

Shin matched the general’s tone. “Possibly. If you tell me what you need help with.”

The ghost of a smile flashed across Wren’s eyes. “I popped two days ago because the previous general of this zone was killed and its Conquest Zone was Claimed. We’d thought it was your Red Player, but,”–He held up the massive arrow–”They’ve been shooting demands for a parley at us ever since we arrived. I haven’t been around for long, but even I know Red Players don’t parley.”

Shin nodded slowly. “And how did you see us helping with that?”

“Son, you do know what you just talked yourself out of, right?” Wren jerked his head towards the tent. “Those two were moments away from ordering the men to turn their spears on the lot of you. And they absolutely would have done it.”

“True.”

“Now, if the occupiers of my fortress had wanted a fight? I’m more than prepared to give them one. But it seems like they want to talk instead. So what do you say?” The general extended a hand. “Feel like doing a bit more talking today?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Shin took the offered handshake. He’d been right; General Wren was absolutely not a fool. And to his surprise, Shin was discovering he liked the elf as well.

Shit. Forget things getting complicated. This whole situation was shaping up to be messy as hell.