Cornered inside a prison by three increasingly hostile Players was, admittedly, neither the best time nor best place for introspection. But Shin simply couldn’t help himself. The plan had certainly seemed solid: offer to reunite a Prince with his father as a step towards further diplomatic talks. But now here they all were, moments away from drawn steel, and King Glandem’s envoys had never even heard of the Prince.

At that precise moment, the fact that Shin had crafted a plan around the idea that someone might actually want Ceril came crashing down on him. Maybe he should just let these Players slaughter him; at least his shame would die with him.

“What do you mean?!” Cerill demanded of the human Player, his fists tightening around the bars to his cell as his face began to turn red. “What do you mean ‘a’ Prince Ceril?”

JD couldn’t seem to help himself, despite the tense situation. “So, Magica has lots of Kingdoms and Kings love to fuck. The Writers got tired of having to come up with unique characters for all those royals, so after the seventh regal brat the System starts pulling from a pool of Premades.” The No One grinned toadishly. “King Oswaldo a few Kingdoms over has a Prince Ceril. He’s a real piece of shit. Guess you’re a real piece of shit too, huh?”

Ceril sputtered in existential outrage, but for once Shin was grateful for his presence. The silver lining of someone like the Prince was that his tantrums managed to cover up an awkward stumble just as often as they fouled up an otherwise excellent moment.

Shittiness could be a special talent, and there was no question Ceril had that talent in spaces.

“Lady Bittercup is perfectly fine; put your sword away.” Shin was back on his game, his expression focused as he raised a steadying hand towards Galwenlas. “Goddess, as if I’d have put her in a holding room. She’s the only Oaken Elf we’ve ever met who hasn’t betrayed or attempted to attack us yet.”

“So far!” Mimasu helpfully piped in.

“Right, so far.” Shin tilted his head at the Grand Elf, intrigued. “If I’d known she was who you wanted, I wouldn’t have brought you down here. It’s strange, though; how did you even know we had her with us? She wrote our letter to King Glandem, but I’m absolutely certain she never mentioned herself.”

Galwenlas’s hand did not leave the hilt of his sword. “Never mind all that. Where do you have her locked up, then? Undoubtedly your own private quarters, you ravenous beast!”

Shin gave the Player a flat look. “I don’t have quarters here; we usually just all sleep in a giant ball.”

That knocked the elf out of his fierce posture. “I…huh?”

“Look, the point is that Lady Bittercup isn’t even a detainee, let alone a prisoner. She’s got her run of the fortress; give me ten minutes and I’ll find her for you.”

“I…hmph.” Galwenlas straightened back up, letting his sword click back into its sheath with a little twinkle of astral energy. “Hmph! Very well! See that you do, kobold, and if the Lady is truly unharmed then perhaps we may all leave as–!”

He cut himself off as he caught a glimpse of Naotadate and Gero in the corner of his eye, the massive beastman and the equally massive kobold locked in the single most intense staredown Shin had ever seen. “Seriously, dude?” Galwenlas whined, his flowery speech momentarily dropped. “You hatfa do this every time you meet someone tall?”

“I MUST!” the Grappler roared, pounding a fist into his chest as his eyes flared back at Gero’s defiant gaze. “The Tiger’s Pride will NEVER allow him to refuse a CHALLENGE!”

Galwenlas sighed as JD snickered, the elf running a beleaguered hand through his golden hair. “He’s going to be at this forever.” He cast an eye towards Shin. “I’m guessing yours doesn’t give up, either?” When the Schemer shook his head, Galwenlas sighed again. “Let’s just leave them, then. I still don’t fully trust that Lady Bittercup is unharmed and unmolested.”

“Go on, Shin.” Gero growled, her eyes never leaving Date’s. “Don’t worry about us wrecking the place, either. I won’t need to raise fists to beat this one.”

“Can’t you FEEL IT?!” The beastman raged, “Can’t you feel the HEAT from the UNQUENCHED FIRE IN MY HEART?!”

“Jesus Christ he’s getting worse.” JD shuddered.

“Mimasu, could you stay here and watch them?” Shin started back towards the stairs, motioning for Bex to follow him. “So you can write down who wins.”

“Oh!” The peppy scribe’s eyes blazed, and suddenly there were three participants in the staredown of the century.

With all the pretense of an afterthought, Shin called over his shoulder. “I guess we’ll figure out something to do with you later, A Ceril! Or do you prefer Prince Ceril the Second?”

As the Oaken Elf shrieked in hideous rage Shin whispered to Bex, the unwanted prince’s tantrum obscuring his voice from the other two Players. “I need you to lead them astray for a while. I want a few minutes alone with Bittercup.”

Bex nodded intently, and Shin indulged in an internal smile. Yet another flawless use of Ceril’s first-rank Shittiness. Maybe Shin did want to keep him around.

———————————————————————————————————

Shin knocked on the door of the quarters Bittercup had claimed for herself, mulling over what he knew about this situation. It wasn’t much, but he was certain of two facts.

One: Out of all of the troops and individuals the Oaken Elves had lost in their ill-fated campaign, Bittercup was the only one King Glandem seemed to care about.

Two: Bittercup had made it absolutely clear that she did not want to see the Players.

It wasn’t enough to give Shin a clear overall picture, but Shin was absolutely certain that he needed to speak with her before the Players got to her. And if Bittercup still didn’t want to see them after Shin had asked his questions? Well. Plan Gero would go straight to the top of the list.

The door cracked open just wide enough for a single rosy eye to peek through, creaking open another few inches after Bittercup confirmed it was just Shin. “What’s up?” she queried, the tension in her voice betraying her unconcerned expression. “Are they gone already?”

“No, not quite. May I come in?”

Bittercup hesitated, then pushed the door open the rest of the way. “Sure, fine.”

She flounced into the chair stuck in the corner of the modest room, her bulky robes billowing as Shin closed the door behind himself. “So what’s the problem? Are they upset about Prince Ceril’s condition or something? Because I’m sure you could just–”

“It’s not that.” Shin lowered himself down on the bed, lacing his fingers together as he leaned forward. “They’re here for you, Bittercup. They are only here for you.”

The elf’s face turned stricken as she attempted to keep up her smile. “I…don’t see how that’s possible. My letter didn’t–”

“I know it didn’t.” Shin offered the woman a rueful grin. “I didn’t say anything, either. But they nearly declared open warfare when I took them to see Prince Ceril instead of you.”

Bittercup plucked at her sleeve, her strained expression turning sullen. “Ugh. I’m really not anybody. I’ve got no idea why they’d come after me when there are still dozens of–” She clamped her mouth shut, eyeing Shin warily once again.

A picture of who he was talking to began to crystalize as Shin tilted his head at Bittercup. A dog that’s been hit once too many times shrinks away from every hand. It was clear that, whatever Bittercup’s life in Quercus had been, she was desperate to escape it.

“I want to help you, Bittercup. I’m going to help you.” Shin knitted his brow together, empathy for this clearly abused stray welling up in his heart. “If you want to tell me what it is you’re running from, I’m ready to listen. But even if you don’t, I’ll still help you.”

Bittercup stared at Shin for a long moment, chewing her bottom lip with such frazzled nerves that she seemed likely to draw blood. Then she abruptly stood, taking hold of the clasp at her neck. “Okay. You want to know my problem? It’s this.”

Then she ripped open her cumbersome robes and let them fall to the ground, baring herself to Shin and the world like a butterfly fresh from her cocoon.

Shin straightened up, his eyebrows rising as he stared at Bittercup. The elf’s hesitance had been replaced by a sort of fiery resolve as she planted her fists on her hips, every moment of silence that passed between the two of them further fueling her newfound fervor. “Well? Say something!”

“I…I’m sorry, and I know this was hard for you? But…” –Shin’s ears flopped helplessly– “What am I supposed to be looking at? Exactly?”

“What?” Bittercup glanced down at herself, then back up at Shin with an incredulous expression. “At me!”

The kobold tilted his head helplessly, trying to piece together what he was missing. She’d been fully clothed under the heavy robes she’d been wearing for days, her traveling garb a bit mussed from all that time under a stifling outer layer. Were they special clothes?

That must be it. “Oh, um, I see? Did you…steal those clothes from King Glandem or something?” Shin’s ears shot up; this was it! “King Glandem likes to wear ladies’ clothes and he’ll do anything to keep it secret! Okay wow. Well he really should be more open about how he wants to live his life; I mean as King he can certainly–”

Bittercup stomped her foot. “Not the clothes! Me! The issue is me!”

Shin blinked. “But…aren’t you just a normal elf?”

Now it was Bittercup’s turn to blink. “I…what?”

“Bittercup, I honestly have no idea what is going on here.”

“You really don’t?” The elf considered that for a moment, wheels visibly turning in her head. “Then I…I guess that means–”

“LADY BITTERCUP, OPPA IS HERE!”

Both Shin and Bittercup jumped backwards as the door burst open, Galwenas and JD storming into the room just barely ahead of a protesting Bex. The Grand Elf let out a gasp at the sight of the woman and the kobold, his hand moving to dramatically unsheath his blade. “I knew it! This creature is keeping you here as his plaything, isn’t he?! Don’t worry, my Lady, your oppa will–”

“No! No, good sir; no.” Bittercup swept forward, her demeanor instantly shifting to one of soothing contrition as she dipped into a small curtsy. “Lord Shin was simply helping me to prepare for our introduction! I have anticipated this meeting ever so much!”

Shin didn’t miss the way that, despite her facade of acquiescent charm, Bittercup was keeping her breathing slow and deep. There were those stress management skills again.

The Player, suffice to say, was not quite so observant. “Oh you are simply a delight!” He dipped into one of his customary ornate bows. “I am Galwenlas All-Elven, Sage-Aspirant of the Star Poem Blade, Envoy Esteemed to His Majesty King Glandem, and absolutely aghast that I hadn’t yet noticed you at a previous Evening’s Repast.” He extended a hand to Bittercup, who gave her own hand back with just the subtlest reluctance for Galwenlas to kiss. “My dear, you are delicious.”

“Yeah and I’m JD.” The human didn’t seem likely to take his eyes off of Bittercup’s neckline. “How you doin’, girl.”

“Wait a second.” A thought forced its way through Bex’s distaste at the greetings of the other two Players. “Bittercup, you’re a Repast Girl?”

Bittercup laughed airly, her cheeks prickling red. “I’m only a trainee? Honestly I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

Shin wouldn’t let this be brushed aside, though. Hadn’t Bex said that the way Quercus earned most of its Royal Coins was through ‘An Evening’s Repast with King Glandem’?. “Bittercup, what’s a ‘Repast Girl’?”

“You really didn’t know?” Galwenlas chuckled indulgently, taking it upon himself to answer for the woman. “I guess this truly was just a misunderstanding.” He gave Bittercup’s hand a pat, the elven woman pulling her arm back as soon as the Player released it. “Well. I suppose there’s no harm in explaining. Are you familiar with the concept of Sliders, Shin?”

“No.”

“Well it’s like this: every feature of every race in Magica has an upper and lower limit that is specific to that race. So while individuals within a race will have variation, they still exist within a set framework.” The elf waved his hand flippantly. “A puckling might be tall for a puckling, but can’t be taller than four feet. A garganto might be short for a garganto, but not shorter than eight feet. You follow?”

Shin nodded, already feeling his hackles beginning to rise as he looked over at the silent Bittercup. “Yes, but what does any of that have to do with you, Bittercup?”

Galwenlas continued to ignore who had actually been addressed. “You see, King Glandem somehow found a specific phenotype that exists outside of the typical elven norms, and such wonderful ladies make up the–”

“Oh blah blah blah; he doesn’t need the fuckin’ sales pamphlet.” JD took a brief pause in eye-fucking Bittercup to roll said eyes. “Oaken Elf Repast Girls have the best bodies of any elves in Magica.” With that said, he immediately resumed his ogling. “Those are, like, human level titties. So awesome.”

It would have been very easy for Shin to sink his teeth into JellyDonut’s neck at that moment. But such indulgences could wait until he’d beheld the full scope of this depravity, and the kobold suspected he wasn’t even close to reaching the bottom. “So when you pay a Royal Coin for this Repast, what are you actually buying?”

“Oh you make it sound so crass,” Galwenlas tutted. “The Evening’s Repast is nothing more than a pleasant dinner with a wise King and a few lovely ladies. We chat, we laugh, we might even flirt a little once the wine begins to take hold.”

Galwenlas paused to wink at Bex, and Shin was certain that the girl barely managed to restrain herself from drowning the elf in a sea of vomit.

“It doesn’t get really good until you spend a couple more Coins,” JD offered, his frog-like face scrunching up in excitement with the idea. “Then the King finally shuts up and you get to–”

“Ahem,” Galwenlas cleared his throat. “I don’t think they really need all the details, JD?”

The human scoffed. “You think they care? You may be willing to play these dumb diplomat games, but let’s be honest here: these dudes are enemies with the Oaken Elves. Okay? Why would they give a single shit about what happens to one of them?”

Bittercup carefully cleared her throat, her breezy tone somewhat stifled by how small her voice was. “Like I said though, I’m still just a trainee? I still just serve food, mostly; it’s my senior sisters who–”

“No no, my dear!” Galwenlas beamed. “You’re not a trainee anymore! In fact, you’re the most senior girl in the Ever-Growing Court?”

“Uh?” Bittercup tried to process that, looking a little woozy. “H-how am I…how am I that?”

JD huffed. “Some greedy bastard shelled out for a Grand Gala a few days ago. Goddamn prick. Really fucked my whole vacation up.”

All of the blood immediately drained from Bittercup’s face. “Grand Galas are real? I, I thought the others were just trying to scare me, but…they’re real?”

Galwenlas made a noncommittal noise. “Yes, well, no reason to get hung up on that now, is there? What’s done is done, and you really need to–”

“What’s a Grand Gala.”

The Grand Elf frowned at Shin, then at Bex, clearly displeased at the way the two kobolds had stepped between him and Bittercup. “Well I really don’t think you need to kn–”

“They’re crazy, that’s what they are.” JD held out his hands. “Okay, this is how it works. You give King Glandem a shitload of Royal Coins, and then he leaves,” –The human flipped over one hand– ‘ “Then his guards leave,” –He flipped over his other hand– “And then they lock the doors behind them, leaving you alone with all the girls until morning.” He clapped his hands together, Bittercup silently shuddered at the ringing noise. “It’s that simple! Honestly, I’m pretty jealous.”

“Mm.” Galwenlas made an attempt to mask it, but he was clearly jealous as well. "So, yes. You were the only girl away on a chore, so you're the only Repast Girl left. I'm sure you understand how urgent your return to Quercus is now, yes?"

Forget Plan Gero. At that moment, Shin threw out every plan and contingency he’d crafted so far, all of them replaced in giant gleaming letters by the goal that he would dedicate himself to until his grim work had been completed:

Plan Ruin These Guys’ Lives.