Eric frowned thoughtfully as they made their way through a grand foyer decorated with numerous portraits of serious looking men in dressed in old fashioned suits, scholar’s robes, or the armaments of a renaissance noble, all of them with a thick black tome either on a stand before them or in their hands. Interspersed with these somber paintings were murals of forest glades or fields rich with autumn’s bounty. The hardwood paneling lining the hallways further in had been polished to a warm golden hue, scrollwork etchings adding another layer of elegance to neoclassical design that bordered on the Baroque as Eric peaked into chambers that reminded him of Elizabethan Era period pieces his mother and sister had both loved acting in.

The manor was absolutely stuffed with what Eric’s studied eye determined to be priceless antique furniture upholstered in silk and velvet, including comfortable looking davenports inviting someone to spend a lazy hour dozing on with a leather-bound book from the bookshelf nearby while golden shafts of sunlight emanating from the floor to ceiling windows caressed the reader’s skin.

Eric shook his head, turning to his beaming friends. “I feel like I just jumped into a period piece. Where’s my saber?” He smirked. “Oh, goodie. At least I’m that prepared. Still, this armor will have to go for something far more dashing. Any military uniforms I can wear? Is there a brokenhearted girl whose sobs I’ll undoubtedly hear in 3...2...1 before being challenged by her cad of a lover to a duel?”

Morlekai chuckled. “Yeah, it does have that kind of feel. I think it reminds Master Grim of home.”

Eric winced. “And it’s never a good idea to make light of someone’s home… even in jest.”

Alice chuckled throatily. “It would take a lot to offend Master Grim. He knows that most of us are mix-blooded fools, as he puts it, with no true appreciation of our history, power, or potential. And with alien abominations eager to rob us of everything just as thoroughly as the Roman Empire had robbed his ancestors, allowing historical resentments to taint relations between our tribes in the present will doom all our futures.”

Drake nodded. “That’s exactly what he would say, before calling me a brainless mook who needs to gain mastery over multiple weapons if I ever hope to get a decent class,” said the man with a rueful chuckle.

Louie nodded. “We both hit level 14 after our final heist. And all three of those points went into Finesse for me and Drake both. It might not let us hit harder and faster, Strength and Quickness being where most conscripts looking to survive to their next level put all their points. But the higher our Finesse, the faster we can hit Journeyman status in multiple weapon skills. And that, Boyscout, is the key to finally getting decent classes of our own.”

“Warriors all the way!” Drake’s eyes flashed with excitement. “We’re not to level-up until we finally hit that mark, Grim’s orders. So we just train our asses off, all day, every day, and damn if it isn’t a rush, improving our skills, getting closer and closer to the point where we just know a visit to the pod will see us blessed with classes we can finally be proud of. Not to mention finally getting Node Feats that will put us head and shoulders over the Conscripts who can never break through.”

Eric grinned. “I noticed you two have a definite flow to your movements now. Like professional dancers. Good for you.”

Drake laughed. “This coming from a guy who now moves so smooth that he’s the definition of cool.”

Eric grinned. “The definition of cool. Sure. I’ll go with that.” He turned to Alice. “How goes the wand practice?”

Alice flashed a strained smile. “Lightning bolts? Better than ever. As far as fire, ice, and anything else goes...” she sighed, and Eric wasn’t blind to the pain in her eyes as she shook her head.

“Not so well,” she admitted softly.

Eric gently squeezed her hand. “Maybe we can help each other in that department.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?” Her excited smile suddenly prickled with jealousy. “No way you’re going to tell me you figured out how to use wands in the handful of days since we parted.”

Eric shook his head. “Not at all. Rather, I was hoping you could show me how to use lightning wands, and maybe I have the tools we need to figure the others out ourselves.” He furrowed his brow. “But wait. With your connections… with your… resources, no mage has been willing to teach you the basics?”

Alice’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Um… yeah. There’s the problem. It seems like I have a very hard time learning new bits of arcane lore. If I’m not with someone willing to surrender their insights very intimately… it’s like I’m the stupidest girl in class. It just doesn’t click.”

Eric slowed to a stop, frowning at his friend. “What exactly are you saying, Alice? I know you can cast, we both know you have the potential, and a really sweet mana pool to boot.”

Alice squeezed her eyes shut. “Damn, I’d fucking kill for a cigarette,” she whispered as Louie wrapped her in his arms.

“Cold turkey, babe. It’s the only way.”

“I know, asshole,” she said, the tension leaking out of her as she leaned into him before turning to Eric, peering at him intently with eyes still showing a bit of strain. “I’m going to do it, this time. Getting off and staying off.”

Eric nodded. “I have no doubt.”

“Good. No way I can carry this asshole’s child if I’m poisoning my body, right?”

Eric’s eyes widened, a warm goofy grin coming over his features. “Congratulations to you both!”

Louie chuckled, showing a strained smile. “Yeah, sooner I can break through to Warrior and join the Steel Shields with Drake, the better. My fiance’s going to need all the Potency I can give her for the sake of Louie junior, and a Standard Class’s potency is, what’s the word… sweeter? Than Basic Conscript.”

“Could be Alice junior. You don’t know,” Alice teased. “But yeah, you need to push yourself, and I’m stuck learning gentle blood magics. Not even allowed to use Arcana, because it’s a strain to my System, channeling wild magics without the right class for it.”

Eric frowned. “So it’s a catch-22. You can’t safely cast spells without being an Arcanist, but you can’t become an Arcanist if you don’t know multiple spells, or at least how to use multiple types of spell-casting artifacts.”

“Pretty much,” Alice admitted. “And both mages we tried to entice to tutor me were terrified at the idea of my taking just a tiny sip of their life force, so I could feel how the magic flowed through them. Even after offering 10,000 credits worth of gold, and an hour of bliss they’d never forget!”

Eric smirked. “Frankly, I’m surprised they didn’t accept. It isn’t that hard to gain a few dead orc’s worth of experience, after all.”

Alice smirked. “So says the boy scout who sacrificed what, 22 years of his life, learning blood magics even a master would envy? Losing half a level is no big deal for you, skilled as you are at killing with all the tricks up your sleeve. But for most of these guys? They’re desperate for levels, praying they’ll survive their next foray into a rift far too random for their comfort, always feeling the pressure to advance, power up, be that much harder to kill. Not that I blame them, but still. Fuck, do I want a decent teacher!”

“It’s only been a couple days, hon,” Louie soothed. “We’ll find someone who’s chill, who can appreciate the luxury gold buys, getting himself out of goblin debt, or just having months where he can live stress free and work on whatever skills he likes, until it’s time to face the deeps again.”

The five of them halted at the end of the corridor, Eric finding himself before a grand oak door etched in scrollwork, the gaudy gold filigree failing to hide the blood runes he could now sense so clearly, thanks to his Magesight enhanced Perception. Even if they were of such complexity that he could barely wrap his head around them, he immediately understood that the doorway before him was warded by extremely potent magics.

Eric turned to his friends. “I take it this is Mr. Grim’s office?”

Morlekai smirked. “His sanctum sanctorum, yes, Eric. And please… let me get the knocker.”

Of course the countless wards and crimson sigils didn’t react in the slightest when Morlekai rang the golden knocker before stepping back.

Instead there was dead silence that grew for endless moments until Eric wanted to wince under the weight of tense expectation… before the door opened on perfectly oiled hinges without making a sound.

Revealing an ebony skinned man wearing a top hat and frock coat dark as night over a waistcoat of crushed velvet the color of crimson death, neatly highlighted by a brilliant cravat a striking shade of pristine white. The gentleman revealed was giving a polite tap on the ground with a silver-tipped cane radiating blood magics so potent Eric blinked despite himself, towering over all of them at a good seven feet.

And for just a second, Eric froze at the sight of a fleshless skeleton staring at him with eye sockets blazing with brilliant blue sparks of eldritch flame.

It’s a litch. An actual fucking litch!

Before shaking his head, lest he get carried away by his odd flight of fancy. Because as emaciated as the poor man looked… Eric frowned. Emaciated? Hardly. The guy was as buff as a linebacker. And at seven feet? Huge! - As impressive as the man looked, seven feet, plus the top hat, he wasn’t surprised that his poor tired mind got carried away, after the day he had endured.

Certainly he didn’t hesitate to shake the man’s gloved hand, impressed by the man’s strength. Because for Eric to feel it at 48 Strength himself, he must have been at Olympian levels before he retired -passed on!- from whatever his former profession had been.

“Master Grim, may I introduce my esteemed friend, Eric Silver. Vital in both facilitating our latest… asset accrual, as well helping to expedite our hasty exit. The blood-debt my crew and I owe him is as steep as it can be, without the weight being a burden to our souls.”

The giant scarecrow (linebacker!) of a man flashed a brilliant, ivory-white smile. “Greetings, Eric Silver of Clan Silver. You may call me Lord Grim… Your Grace.”

Eric felt his cheeks blaze as readily as he sensed the hisses, softly muttered curses, and surprised stares of his friends. “Please, just Eric… Lord Grim. I am, as they say, a ‘free agent. I have sworn fealty to no one, and I would have no one swear any oaths of fealty to me.”

Morlekai’s lich! mentor studied Eric for long moments before finally dipping his head, not letting go of Eric’s hand the entire time, clearly taking his measure.

“Ah. I do think I understand. Why accept silk, lace, and the chains of maternal obligation without end when you can strike forth and claim your own kingdom in the name of our crimson lord. For a true Contender never bows his head to any other.”

Lord Grim then stepped back, going so far as to doff his hat and bow his head, as if paying solemn respects to a hot-cheeked Eric.

“May your hunt be rich in blood and treasure, Contender.”

Eric swallowed and dipped his head equally low, and not an inch higher. “I thank you for your kind words and your hospitality, Lord Grim.”

Perception check made!

Eric then froze, catching the sight, or sense of something, at the corner of his eye. A vague twisting of Arcane magics and the cords of fate.

A subtle pattern he had sensed once before, after signing a velum document that even then had smelled faintly of brimstone, magic, and animal musk to Eric’s exquisitely acute sense of smell.

Eric froze, recalling his friend’s earlier words.

Because it wasn’t about twisted dark magics, of which he sensed none, but the nature of that peculiar stink.

He quickly turned to meet Lord Grim’s gaze when the man began to speak once more.

“I believe my coven owes you a considerable debt, Eric Silver. I do hope you will accept our hospitality and a future boon. My protege has informed me that you are a student of the noble arts, yes?”

“Ask him to take you on as his student, Eric!” Alice all but squealed in a stage whisper.

Lord Grim’s smile became strained as Morlekai hissed at his sister, who softly cursed right back, but did nothing to dissuade her words. Eric couldn’t help smiling, bowing both in gratitude of the generous overture and to hide his grin, wondering if even that was staged just to make sure that even the most clueless would-be hero would understand the boon so easily claimed before them. A boon that he suspected they all wanted him to claim.

Because in a world where the powerful had made the gift of supernatural knowledge as rare as a Saharan Oasis, unfettered access to a lich’s! master’s arcane library was a prize beyond compare.

Eric swallowed, doing his best to focus despite the flush to his cheeks, the roar in his ear of his own pounding heart, sensing what truly was a glorious opportunity before him.

But it was a boon that meant nothing, one he was completely unworthy of… if he couldn’t even protect his friends.

He swallowed, forced himself to meet the gaze of Morlekai’s mentor, and risk losing out in a boon that would never come again.

“Would I be correct in surmising that even now you’re reading over a contract, Lord Grim?”

“Eric, don’t you fuckin’ dare tell him what we told you!” Alice screamed in party chat, a party Eric was surprised to find still open. But evidently, it was.

“Eric, what the hell are you doing? Ask for free access to the library! Now’s your chance!” Morlekai hissed. And that even he would dare such words in his master’s presence, even through a party link, showed just how gravely Eric was overstepping, risking offending what could be an incredibly valuable ally.

The giant of a man gazed at Eric for long seconds, before slowly nodding his head, saying only: “You would.”

Eric took a deep breath and forced himself to say the words. “I don’t suppose goblins were involved in the forging of that contract?”

Eric felt his cheeks blaze under Lord Grim’s increasingly icy stare.

“They were.”

“I thought so.” Eric tapped his nose. “I recognize their stink.”

Much to his surprise, and relief, this earned a great belly laugh from Lord Grim and nonplussed stares from Alex’s friends.

Taking a deep breath, Eric spoke on. “If you would find it acceptable, Lord Grim, I would be grateful for a chance to look over that contract.”

The room grew still. Eric winced under the sudden tension as Lord Grim probed Eric with his gaze. “Let me make sure I understand your request. Instead of taking advantage of my boon in ways that would allow you to grow your gifts, gifts the absurd ‘System’ barely deigns to acknowledge, to glorious heights, you would instead fritter it away on a contract that concerns you not at all.”

“Eric, don’t be a bloody idiot!” Alice practically screamed in his mind.

Eric forced himself to nod. “Basically, yeah.”

“May I ask why?”

Eric took a deep breath, gazing at a man who no longer seemed offended, who wasn’t screaming imprecations and calling him an idiot like his friend’s in their still-shared party interface… who wasn’t doing anything save staring at him with an almost morbid curiosity.

Eric frowned thoughtfully, considered the contract he had signed, it’s boon and implications, and how fragile was the ground he stood on, even now. There was so little he dared to say, assuming everything he did and said would be measured with an exacting eye eager for any exit clause that would deny him his future boon.

So he would say absolutely nothing regarding particulars, not even by inference.

He measured Grim with his eyes. “Because I’ve dealt with goblins before.”

“What the hell, Eric!” Morlekai exploded. “Why are you throwing away a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this?”

Eric turned around, meeting his friend’s imploring gaze. He grit his teeth, knowing that even now he was skirting the line, but… yes. It felt right. This much he could say.

He looked Morlekai dead in the eye. “I am not at liberty to say.”

And not another word did he utter before turning around, locking gazes with Lord Grim. “Please understand that any contractual observations I might make are to be taken merely as the rantings of a paranoid layman a competent lawyer might seek to follow up on, simply as an academic exercise in legal proficiency, if nothing else. In absolutely no way, shape, or form, is anything I say or imply from this moment onward to be taken as any sort of disparagement or critique of goblin culture, business practice, or morals. Is that acceptable to you?”

Lord Grim fixed Eric with a bemused stare. “And what makes you any more suited for detecting legal loopholes or landmines than the retainer that I have been repeatedly reassured by sycophants and lick-boots is well versed in intergalactic law?”

Eric flashed a hard smile and allowed the man -lich!- before him to glimpse two of the titles he normally kept a tight reign on showing, hadn’t even allowed his closest friends to glimpse, wanting to enjoy a brief few days of warmth and camaraderie before envy, jealously, or too many questions could spoil the warm memories he had been so eager to share with them.

But this? This had to take precedence. No matter the strain it might cause between them.

“Master Criminal? Fuck, Morlekai! That’s an Elite title! How the hell did our Boyscout earn himself an Elite Rogue title?” Alice cried out, loud enough to wake the whole manor, Eric thought.

Surprisingly, Morlekai took it all in stride. “Focus on what matters. That perk and the one beneath it.”

“The one beneath it is just a standard title! Who gives a fuck?”

Morlekai snorted. “We’re in party. You can taste its significance, even if the exact wording is obfuscated.”

Alice cursed. “Shit.” Then she paled, gazing at Eric with disbelieving eyes. “No fucking way. You’re so broken, it’s disgusting.” She flashed a bittersweet smile, and maybe Eric shouldn’t be surprised. He was almost certain he knew what Morlekai was referring to, even if he only felt it as an intuitive hunch regarding what he was capable of. But if his Nose For a Bad Deal and What The Other Party Wants boons worked as he hoped they would…

He gave a worried shake of his head. “Please don’t jinx it, guys. I get the feeling this works way, way better in person. This is just a written document. But on the off chance that my boons, previous experience with these… individuals, and my 51 Perception might help me spot any bullshit… well, I might as well give it a read. Don’t you think?”

Alice’s normally gorgeous and perfectly made-up eyes bulged rather unattractively. “What? 51 Perception? What the hell, Eric! What demon did you bargain with to get that much power?”

“That’s enough, Alice! Please wait outside,” snapped Lord Grim.

The young succubus paled, quickly bowing her head. “Yes, Grandfather.”

Eric winced at the taste of Alice’s prickly jealousy that he knew to be just a mask for her own anxieties and insecurities quickly faded as she darted away, slipping free of the party interface between one heartbeat and the next, his other friends slipping away seconds later. But Eric paid them no mind, all his focus now on the fascinating contract written in strangely modern English with very little of what he would call legalese.

What it promised was both clear cut and beyond amazing. Enticing enough that Eric couldn't see anyone searching too hard for the inevitable traps that he just knew were hidden in there somewhere.

Now he just needed to find them before it was too late.