“Eric Silver!” The beautiful Blue Corp concierge before him flashed a brilliant smile. “How wonderful to see you. Is everything to your pleasure with your room?”

Eric caught her gaze, slowly slapping down his Sapphire Blue card. “I’d like the top two floors, please.”

The girl’s eyes widened. “You wish to rent both Emperor tier condominiums?”

Eric slowly shook his head. “Not Rent. Buy.”

The girl’s befuddled look turned razor-sharp, playing the naive girl no longer.

“That will be ten million credits. You know that, right?”

Eric forced a hard smile. “And I’d like to purchase all the suites just below it. Tell me when we hit twenty million, then give me my ten percent discount with one free meal per day for up to four guests in each room, as per Agent, or should I say Administrator? Caliban’s agreement with me.”

The girl gazed at him like a hawk for long moments before lifting up a crystal transceiver, Arcane Perception clearly indicating a surge of something as she spoke in an urgent whisper to whoever was on the other line.

Her hard features immediately blossomed into a brilliant smile. She even went so far as to wink.

“Well done on your negotiating skills, Prince Eric,” she said, quickly swiping his card.

“You are now the proud owner of both our Royal Condominiums and five of our luxury condominiums, for a total discounted price of 22.5 million credits. That includes your ten percent discount and, of course, you and your guests will be allowed one free daily meal at the Blue Spoon, the finest restaurant in all of Freetown! Your present card balance is now at 24.26 million credits, Your Grace.”

Eric winced, for all that he understood the sly last minute negotiation. Just grabbing the two 5 million condos and 4 of the 3 million ones would have put him at 19.8 million spent. Clearly the 20 million minimal purchase had to be made inclusive of any discount. Not that he minded what he suspected would one day be a glorious investment. “Just Eric, please. I acknowledge no royal titles.”

His eyes grew intent as he sensed trouble closing in. “And I would like the topmost floor registered in Rica Lightfoot’s name. It is my gift to her. Free and clear of all debt and obligation.”

Acting on sudden impulse, he grabbed the pen and the pad on the counter, hurriedly jotting down a note to that effect before jabbing his hand with the pen, hard, and signing the document with a drop of his own blood before folding it up and handing it to her.

“Signed and sealed,” he whispered, shivering as he felt a whisper of his life force imbuing the now glowing paper.

The girl looked breathlessly at Eric and then down at the paper, before jerking an awed nod. “Signed and sealed,” she acknowledged in a husky voice, accepting the paper with trembling hands.

Eric flashed a desperate smile. “If you could do me a huge favor and tell Caliban to head to our rented room and hand-deliver this to Rica? But before he gets there… could you put me through to her?”

He new it was a risk. She might laugh at him assuming arcane phone-lines had actually been put in every room. Yet he recalled someone mentioning room service at some point, and that meant being able to magically call down to the front desk, even if he hadn’t registered any phones during his too brief tour.

It said something about the concierge’s professionalism that she grabbed his hand and deliberately led him behind the counter, ignoring the blood from a cut already healed, before flashing a hard glare and shake of her head at the people slowly closing in on Eric. People whose very existence Eric refused even to acknowledge, sensing that they had just been warned to back off as she exchanged clipped words with Caliban on the exotic crystal receiver absolutely sparkling to Eric’s Arcane Perception she had picked up, requesting that he come down immediately before closing her eyes, as if mentally establishing a new connection, then handing the receiver to Eric.

“Hello?” Rica’s excited voice brought a wave of relief to Eric’s anxious features.

“Rica, are you alright?”

“Eric, hell yes!” She laughed with wonder. “Eric, you’re family is here. Love, why did you never tell me you were elven royalty?”

Eric winced. “Sweetheart, I just brought the top 3 floors of the Blue Palace. The topmost floor is yours, free and clear. My gift to you. No strings attached.”

Eric winced at the sudden pregnant pause, but forced himself to speak on. “Caliban will, if all goes well, be there to escort you, Ria, and the rest of our friends and family to the top floor. Please go. And please… tell my family that now is not a good time for you… or me… to talk to them. Say what you like. But whatever you do, leave with Caliban and head to the top floor. Okay, sweetheart?”

Rica paused for long moments. “Shit,” she said.

Eric nodded at the other end. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Fuck. They’re now staring right at me, Eric. And your sister’s holding my daughter!”

“My sister’s a sweetheart. I saved her life, she saved mine. It’s not that her I’m worried about.”

Rica swallowed. “It’s a certain absurdly famous actress, isn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“Shit… shit, shit, shit! Eric, your mom’s looking at me with those sky blue eyes of hers… I fucking swear she can read my mind. What do I do!?”

“Take a deep breath,” Eric soothed. “There are certain lines she won’t cross. Not if she wants the world to see her as one of the good ones and not a psychopathic monster.”

“Eric? Eric Silver, my wayward son, is that you?”

A haunting voice Eric both dreaded and ached to hear suddenly caressed his soul. And the air suddenly grew bright and dizzying as Eric slapped his hand over the speaker as musical notes in a language he half-remembered flooded over the phone...before being cut off.

“Sweetheart, I have to go!” Eric shouted into the mouthpiece, praying she would understand.

His breath hitched, his panicked eyes locking with a concierge who had overheard far too much, for all that her eyes were filled with unexpected sympathy. “Agent Caliban will allow nothing untoward to happen, Mr. Silver. I can promise you that.” Her eyes widened. “By Merloc’s silver beard... Eric, you’d best run while you can!”

Eric spun around sudden alarm.

“Lord Liua has arrived!” she hissed. “He’s a lawyer and an Oathbinder, and already well over Level 30! If autonomy is your concern...”

But Eric had already darted over the counter as fast as his racing feet could take him, darting through the sparse lobby crowd and out the opposite lobby door, thankfully clear of the building before even his exquisite hearing could pick up the startled exclamation and sharp demands of a person he refused to let have any hold over him.

He was a free man, and had every intention of remaining that way, regardless of the blood flowing through his veins. And if that meant he was racing for the wide open gates between the Blue Quarter and the rest of Freetown, despite the attempted hit of just hours before, then so be it.

And never had he felt both so relieved and guilty than when he raced through the gate with no more than a friendly nod from one of the fully armored guards, praying that he had done enough for Rica, and that his mother wouldn’t dare anything untoward. Especially with his sister there, who he loved fiercely and trusted and wished he could talk to, who was now holding his girlfriend’s child.

His thoughts raced as he darted across the tree-lined boulevard into the nicer section of Freetown just beyond the gate, knowing he was drawing at least a few curious stares but not really caring, interested only in putting as much distance between himself and the Blue Quarter as he could, before he dared slow down to a far more reasonable speed and try blending in. Because despite the hostility of a certain handful of Professional crafters the other day, and a certain goblin owned temple to usury and exploitation he’d never enter again, he had enjoyed his initial exploration of this city of renaissance, steampunk, and Romanesque architecture with its flowers, parks, and charming villas dotted here and there amongst the buildings.

For all that it was somewhat ramshackle compared to the high magitech feel of the blue quarter. It was still quaint and beautiful even if the buildings and its people didn’t precisely look like they had been freshly washed and scrubbed, which no one did outside of the Blue Quarter did these days. And the dreamy look he saw in the eyes of so many adventurers savoring the beauty and adventure promised in a world where they could actually level up was at least as common as looks of tension and worry he saw in the furtive glances of others.

Eric took a deep, steadying breath, finally slowing down as he slipped from main street to alley to an adjoining boulevard where the shops didn’t look quite as nice as those along the mains strip, but still boasted fine selections of swords, polearms, and miscellaneous armaments, Eric even spotting a stand selling potions.

The air was alive with the sounds of hawkers calling out to passing adventurers as he wandered into what was clearly another adventurer-friendly section of the city and, much to his bemused surprise, not one shopkeeper glared at him, demanding that he leave the area at once.

Eric couldn’t help grinning at the thought, even as he purchased the local equivalent of a sticky bun with one of his remaining copper pieces.

All the better to fit in, he told himself as he took another delicious bite of buttery cinnamon bun, tangy honey, and salty-sweet peanut brittle.

Fortunately, he seemed to be blending in just fine, earning more than one nod from adventurers, both basic Conscripts still finding their feet, and those pinging to his Perception as owners of Standard, and in at least one case, an Advanced class. Most were browsing wares at a relaxed pace or casually chatting with friends, and more than a few were stuffing their faces with street food, much like he was.

No one was eyeing him like he was fresh meat, though a few furtive glances at his wand bandoleer had him securing them inside his now gold-free tactical backpack, now worn as a front back… just in case.

For the first time since the end of that awful conference, he finally felt the tight vise of pressure easing... the awful mixture of cringe and tension having culminated in his fleeing from what he was dreadfully certain had been a barrister pawn of his mother’s. An elven lord who it seemed could use legalized oathbindings or worse to trap Eric in intellectualized arcane knots that he had absolutely no hope of unraveling before his mother had him neatly wrapped up and under her spell once more, his brief sweet period of freedom soon becoming no more than a halcyon, half-forgotten dream.

“The hell I’ll let that happen,” he murmured with a shudder, not even caring that this earned him at least a couple of odd looks, only caring that he was, for the most part, blending in.

With any luck, no one would find him any time soon, assuming he could find a safe place to hole up that his mother and her lawyers wouldn’t be privy to… at least until he had a chance to flee Freetown altogether.

He knew there were still risks, of course. But he wasn’t carrying 40 million in gold openly like a fool any more. Only wands, and a Blue Corp card that would do a thief no good. And he was almost certain that his status as a contender meant that the bank-owning goblins wouldn’t dare tell anyone else about his status as a wanted man, and that the human-owned guilds would do their best to suppress it as well, lest his folly result in unforseen consequences and lost opportunities worth far more than any bounty that might be on his head.

It was a thought that made him abruptly stop, his mind going over the snide Linus’s baiting comments once more. Realizing that even as the man had played the role of a hungry ruthless rogue, eager to sell out his own, he had, in fact, forced both the Blue and orc factions to concede that going after Eric would penalize all parties involved.

Did that roguish Guildhead do him a good turn? Did he perhaps owe this Linus character a favor?

He was increasingly certain that he did.

But it was only after he had finished his surprisingly delicious sticky bun while letting his legs take him wherever they would, to increasingly less populous areas of the town, whole-heartedly agreeing with Nelly that heightened Perception was great for all sorts of things including survival, that he perceived several shortfalls to his brilliant plan of signing over a fortune in gold to the girl who had managed to steal his heart in less than a week almost as completely as he had a federal reserve’s worth of don’t think about it too closesly! Nope. Nope. Nope… he stumbled when the now festive looking field of grass, surrounded by colorful tents and even plain rugs with various people all radiating the potency of low level adventurers were displaying their prizes, began to wobble and keel over before his eyes.

Before realizing it was just himself, resting his slightly dizzy head on the soft loamy ground, his nose just inches from the fertilizer left behind the goat loanmower braying nearby, and that he was maybe feeling a wee bit dizzy.

Not that he blamed himself, getting up with an awkward chuckle for the trio of concerned-faced adventurers his interface pinged as being between levels 5 and 7, and not a one of them looked old enough to vote. So why the hell were they risking their lives like they so clearly were? And where the hell was their guild? Shouldn’t the newbloods be under someone’s watch?

Thoughts that earned a furrowed brow from the largest of the trio, all three of them wearing what amounted to overlapping scales of insect shells and toughened beast hide, the latter probably boiled in glue for added strength. Eric suspected their rawhide lamellar and insect shell breastplates were actually heavier than equally strong steel and chainmail would be. But the important thing was that the armor looked decent, capable of saving their lives from at least a handful of otherwise lethal blows. Because Rica already understood that even adventurers struggled to earn any amount of decent coin, and it was obvious just from a quick look around at what must be several dozen other new adventurers wearing similar gear, that forging and trading handmade items comprised of beast parts was a hell of a lot more coin efficient for starting adventurers or guilds than trying to purchase an elite craftsman’s enhanced steel in the more posh parts of town.

“What the hell is your problem, old man? We’re adventurers, same as you. And at least we’re not stumbling around drunk, with no one at our backs,” said the largest, the other two giving curt nods.

“And we are part of a guild, noob,” said the shortest of the three. “And you clearly aren’t, or you’d recognize the guild insignias on our shoulders, which you clearly don’t have.”

The two exchanged grins. “Newbloods.”

The middle of the trio, a freckled girl with bright orange hair, gave Eric a pitying look as she leaned on the shaft of her spear. Unlike their other gear, the leaf-shaped spearheads all three casually held at their side were of high quality steel, the shaft itself glowing faintly with light blue runes that Eric could just make out with his arcane perception.

“And this ‘old man,’ can’t be any older than us. I doubt he even finished high school, with those wide-eyes of his, looking like a clueless babe who got pulled into this realm from his favorite fantasy novel.” The girl chuckled bitterly. “Sorry, sweety. The world ended and there is no heroic path to glory or becoming the king’s favorite wizard or knight. And no prince is going to fall in love with you at first sight.”

The larger of the three furrowed his brow. “He’s clearly not a complete idiot,” he said, all three of their eyes widening when Eric, no longer feeling quite so dizzy, got back to his feet. “I mean, fuck. Look at his armor. Look at his eyes! Like living fucking flame.”

Eric winced at that. “You could just say irises that sparkled like jewels, right? I mean, my eyes don’t actually look like eldritch flame to you… do they?”

All three were now staring at him oddly. The largest, clearly the leader, shook his head with a nervous chuckle. “No man, you’re good. We were just uh.. being hyperbolic.”

Eric nodded. “Fair point. And yeah, sorry I spoke out of turn, there. My mouth sometimes runs away with me. And say, you guys look a lot better prepared for a trip to the local rifts than I do, my bullshit aside. Where can a guy get a decent spear, bardiche, and basic adventuring gear here on the cheap?”

The girl flashed a bright smile, clearly relieved for some reason. “Well hell, you’re just where you need to be! This here’s the free market, which is funny, since this is Freetown. But we had to fight like hell just to get a space where noobs can trade their gear and make their gear without a dozen laws, rules, and fees strangling us, according to our guild heads. Anyway, you won’t find too much fancy shit here, like full suits of plate and mail covered in runes or any shit like that. But if you’re looking for good quality spears with steel heads, or chitten and beast hide lamellar, you’ve definitely come to the right place.”

The smallest of the three was frowning at Eric, scratching his adolescent stubble. “But you don’t need to bother with armor, do you? Sure as fuck, your lizard hide is blessed by… something. Or did a master craftsman make you that lizard hide armor?”

Eric grinned. “Maybe a bit of both?”

The kid nodded. “Sure. Okay. But I would recommend a spear upgrade if I were you. Swords are pretty, but unless you’re actually a Warrior or Samurai with specialized weapon feats, sabers and shit like that just bounce off insect shells. You need a decent spear to puncture their armor and to brace against them if they charge. At least 6 feet.”

The girl nodded solemnly. “But nothing longer than 7 feet. Not unless you really know what you’re doing. You want to be able to strike accurately, and I mean, chinks in their chitin accurate, and lever mandibles aside with it too. Or be so fucking strong that you can just blast right through the bug’s armor with a fangtian ji, guandao, or poleaxe.” She shrugged. “Either way works.”

She then pointed to a stand across the grassy field. “Nelson’s spears is your best bet. He’s a great guy, and will happily sell his spears to us, even if he could be making so much more in the city center.”

The largest kid nodded. “His only surviving son’s an adventurer like us, but you know he’s carried by a really strong crew. No way Nelson’s guild is going to let his son fall. But still, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he sees the rest of his family in all our faces. And damn if we aren’t grateful. Because if we didn’t have his spears or the equivalent?”

The girl paled, shaking her head. “We’ve all seen things happen. But Nelson’s spears never snap, even when asshole things are biting down on the shaft, and the heads always stay razor sharp.”

Eric nodded. “Nelson’s Spears. Thanks, guys. I really appreciate the tip.” He then flashed a warm smile. “Say, I don’t suppose you can tell me the best dungeon for newbloods who just came to Freetown?” He asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer to his next question, thanks to the brief perusal he had made of the local dungeons and rifts, at least some of their locations now blinking away happily on his territory interface map. But it wasn’t like he thought he’d get chased out of the Blue Quarter altogether before he had a chance for the serious study he had intended.

Much to his chagrin, the girl gave him a pitying look. “You don’t have a guild, you don’t know what you’re doing...” she shook her head. “Find a group willing to take on newbloods first. You look strong. If you’re willing be play tank, you should be able to get some legit players willing to take an Adventurer’s Oath that they won’t betray you. If they won’t...”

“Ditch them, because they’ll just stab you in the back, or leave you to die at the first sign of trouble,” the bruiser of their group said. “Once you find a decent crew, let them show you the ropes, and make sure you know what you’re doing before you risk you life out there, yeah?”

Eric frowned thoughtfully. “Do saying oaths like that, without any blood magic bindings, really make a difference? Couldn’t they just, well, lie?”

The girl snorted. “Clearly you’re greener than your armor and eyes make you look. It might be superstition, but who wants to risk bad karma on their next dungeon run, or even the possibility of permanently lowering their experience pools? Not worth the fucking risk.”

Eric smiled, appreciating the advice, and genuinely touched by the concern underneath their brash exteriors. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate the tips. I can tell you’re good people. And if I had more than a couple of copper and silvers to rub together right now, I’d treat you all to lunch by way of thanks.”

The smallest of the three grinned and waved off Eric’s appreciation. “Don’t worry about it. We’re lucky we got into a guild that actually gives two shits, even if we’re smaller and mostly newbloods ourselves. Besides, none of us want your death on our heads.”

“Because in the Deeps, you never know when karma will be coming to collect its due,” the girl whispered, all three sharing a solemn look before heading off with a wave.