Shin hadn’t been sure which emotion he’d feel most strongly when the truth behind the pack’s serendipitous ascension to Level Three was revealed. Pride at the accomplishments of his friends and family? Excitement in the discovery of some new way to twist the unfair rules of Magica? Perhaps even envy, his curdled pride unable to accept that someone was able to think up a solution that even the Great Shin missed?

When he and the rest of the forces from the fortress arrived at the newly restored waystation, however, the Schemer was surprised to find the emotion that shouldered its way to the forefront was Anger. Who’d have guessed?

“Hey!’ Koda glanced over his shoulder at Shin’s sharp call, tilting his head in confusion at the furious expression on the other kobold’s face as he broke away from the rest of his group. “What’s going on here, Koda?!”

The big kobold furrowed his brow, sharing a confused look with his wife Shita. “Um, nothing? Going on with what, Shin?”

“Them!” Shin threw out an accusatory finger towards the Oaken Elf soldiers loading away tools. “What are they doing?”

The two blacksmiths stared at each other for another moment before Shita cautiously spoke up. “They’re...cleaning up?”

This was the answer to the Mystery? What a fucking joke. Of course this option had always been on the table, but the idea that the others actually thought this was okay? It would have been unthinkable, if the proof wasn’t staring Shin right in the face. “You actually Indentured the elves? Gang pressed them? This is how we became a Level Three Tribe?”

“Inden…” Shita’s voice trailed off as she absorbed Shin’s admonishment, only to burst back with a flare of indignation. “Wait just a damn minute! We did no such thing; you really think we’d use slave labor?! They volunteered!”

“Volunteered?” Shin frowned, glancing between the affronted glares of Koda and Shita as doubt began to burrow through the bedrock of his outrage. “But they’re Soldiers, not Villagers. How could they help with the reconstruction?”

“Because the Oaken Elves are the masters of metalcraft.” Shin turned, finding himself looking at the wry smile of General Wren. “I’m sure you mentioned knowing that?”

Shin coughed awkwardly. “I, um, assumed that Ceril was just being self-aggrandizing?”

Wren shrugged. “Generally speaking, he was. But we’re used to making repairs in the field. So rather than sitting on their hands all day, some of my troops suggested they might help out.”

“Yeah, see? They offered.” Shita huffed, stuffing her own tools back into her satchel and pointed not looking at Shin. “So maybe next time ask a couple questions before you accuse people you’ve known your whole life of war crimes.”

“Shita, I–” It was no use, the woman had already hefted her bag over one shoulder and stalked off. Shin shook his head, annoyed at his own thoughtlessness, before glancing at Koda. “I’m sorry, Koda. I’ll apologize to her, too, when she wants to hear it.”

“Good.” The big blacksmith handed a bundle of tools off to a young hobgoblin apprentice, effortlessly lifting an overburdened bag himself before offering Shin a cool nod of farewell. “See that you do.”

Shin kicked himself again as he watched the smiths leave. Reunited with his people for two whole minutes, and already he’d managed to put his feet into it. If they’d all still been mongrels, they’d have just made him eat dirt. Somehow this was significantly worse.

“You know, I’d been running quite well on the social front lately,” Shin idly remarked to Wren. “I suppose I was overdue for a faceplant.”

“Mm.” If the general took any pleasure in the kobold’s ignominy, he had the good grace not to show it. “It looks like you brought your people back safely, though. That’s what counts.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not all I brought. Did you spot the Grand Elf?”

Wren nodded warily. “Yes. A Player?”

“And an ‘Envoy Esteemed’ from your King Himself.”

The elf let out a low whistle. “I didn’t think I merited that level of response. In fact, I’m certain I don’t.”

Shin couldn’t resist a humorless bark of a laugh. “No kidding. Do you want the official message from King Glandem to your soldiers and you, personally? ‘Do Your Duty’.”

“Ah.” Wren’s mouth tightened into a hard line. “We’re to commit suicide, then.”

“That was certainly the implication I took. It makes a certain amount of sense, doesn’t it? Why waste time negotiating for your release when, if you die, a new you will simply pop in Quercus? That’s how you popped, after all. It’s all very tidy.”

“Quite.” The general allowed himself another brief moment to coldly glare at Galwenlas, the Player completely unaware of his scrutiny as he loudly exchanged pleasantries with Momo. “Then what did he want?”

“Lady Bittercup. Just Lady Bittercup.”

Wren knitted his brow. “Really? But why do they–”

“You’ll have to ask her yourself; it’s a hideous story and not mine to tell.” Shin tilted his head, his voice taking on an arch tone. “Unless you’ve got to run along and off yourself? King’s Orders and all that?”

Somehow, Wren managed an amused snort. “I believe I’ll pass. For now, at least. A Player, huh?” The elf frowned. “The King certainly isn’t taking this lightly.”

“Not a Player.”

“No?” Wren raised his eyebrows in surprise when Shin popped up three fingers. “Three Players? Where are the other two?”

“Gone. And not missed.”

“Really.” Wren considered that, looking over Shin in a new light. “I’m impressed, son. Any plans to complete the set?”

“I’ve always got plans.” Honestly, it was more of the start of a plan, but Wren didn’t need to know that. “The important thing is that he stays happy, for now. Think you can back me on that?”

“I suppose we’ll see; he’s headed this way now.”

Galwenlas clapped a familiar hand onto Shin’s shoulder, goodwill beaming from his every amiable pore. “I have to say, this is a nicely restored waystation! Your people do fine work, my friend, fine work.” He trailed off as he turned his eyes onto General Wren, his jovial voice taking a solemn turn. “General. How are your men? They’re being treated well, I trust?”

“Yes, very well.” Wren matched the Grand Elf’s grave tone quite accurately. “We’ve been afforded every dignity.”

“Good; that’s good.” Galwenlas snuck a peek at Shin out of the corner of his eyes, floating a question he preferred to leave unspoken. Do I tell him? The kobold gave his head the slightest of shakes, and so the Player widened his smile. “Well, just know that His Majesty’s thoughts are with you, and your men. These complicated times won’t last forever!”

Shin cut in. “I have every hope and every bit of faith that any complications between our peoples will be resolved shortly, and amicably. Until that happy hour, however, won’t you speak with one of our Specialists?” A smartly attired kobold stepped forward at Shin’s words, offering Galwenlas a small bow. “He will see to your accommodations at the village while we sort through our final growing pangs here. Alright?”

“Ah, yes, of course. And afterwards, we might speak about…?” Galwenlas tapped his finger to the side of his nose, grinning in delight when Shin returned the gesture. “Splendid. Simply splendid.” He turned to leave, but not before offering Wren another overly earnest nod. “Stay strong, general. You, and your men.”

Wren watched the Player depart, his expression inscrutable as he tersely offered up a single quiet word. “Troops.”

Shin perked up an ear. “Hm?”

“Troops. Not ‘men’. Nearly half of the survivors were women.”

“True. Well if I have my way, he’s not going to get the chance to realize that mistake.”

“Good.” The elf gestured meaningfully towards something over Shin’s shoulder. “In the meantime, it seems as if you’ve got other business to attend to. We should talk later.”

Shin offered Wren a brief nod in farewell, turning around as the approaching Momo spoke. “The zone has finished the pre-patch. Are you ready?”

“Yes; absolutely yes. Let’s officially rank up to Level Three before…”

Momo tilted her head as Shin trailed off. “Before what?”

He’d actually been about to say ‘before something else happens’. Shin could almost feel Fate licking its greasy chops at the mere thought of him teeing up a twist like that. Goddess, how many times was he going to try and put his foot into it today? “Before nothing. Let’s do it.”

Fate can’t do anything if you don’t say it out loud, right?

Right?

Woof.