“Do we even know that this is real?” Shin questioned, his fingers drumming across the tabletop as he eyed the seemingly innocuous scroll with suspicion. “I know I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

“”S real, no foolin’,” Moots insisted. “I seen plenty o’ thems afore, on account o’ my mysterious past n’all.”

Dyu’s ears perked at that, the farmer leaning over the Council Table to tilt his head at Moots. “Really? You’ve seen royal seals from Magica City? When?”

“Well~,” the old man offered, scratching at his head as he furrowed his brow in concentration. “Guess I don’t rightly know, ‘sactly. S’probably what makes my past so mysterious-like.” He shrugged, then prodded his boney finger into the parchment’s embossed sigil. “My guts’re sure of it, though: this right here is directly from Ol’ King Magica hisself.”

Momo picked up the scroll, brow furrowed as she once again read its contents aloud. “‘Envoys of the Kobolds and Hobgoblins of the Extremities are hereby invited to the Court of King Magica, where their recent struggles with the Oaken Elves of Quercus may be mediated in the name of Peace’.”

“Huh.” Shiba snorted. “Shinki Itten’s part of ‘the Extremities’? Don’t care much for the name, I have to say.”

Shin didn’t disagree. Receiving a royal summons that essentially called you the Foot People of Magica didn’t feel great. “Well,” the Schemer sighed, shifting uncomfortably on his cushion. “What do we want to do about this?”

Gero was the first to raise her voice. “He’s not our King, is he? It’s ‘Kingdoms’ of Magica, not ‘Kingdom’. We don’t have to go just because some piece of paper says we have to, do we?”

“Yeah no, you absolutely have to send someone.” Bittercup’s contributions to Council Meetings were historically rare, and almost always glib. But there was no mistaking the iron insistence in her voice this time. “If you try to ignore Magica City, it’ll decide you’re a problem. And Magica City does not tolerate problems for long. You’re talking about the beating heart of the Destined Path; Magica City might as well be the System.”

Shin frowned inwardly. “What’s the worst case scenario?”

“I don’t want to even try to think up what the ‘worst case’ might be,” Bittercup flatly stated. “Bad. Worse than that. I do know what the medium worst case would be though, which would be Magica City declaring War on Shinki Itten. You’d be overrun by Players within a night, all trying to burn this place to the ground for a few points of Reputation.”

Woof. “What I wonder is what this is even about.” Shin snatched up the scroll to give it another scan, tossing it back down on the Council Table when he found nothing new or enlightening. “What’s the last actual conflict we had with Quercus? I sincerely doubt what happened with those three Players counts.”

“Well, what about the fort?” Mimisu chimed in. “That was kinda an act of war, wasn’t it?”

Shin had already considered that. “It was, but only before we upgraded to Level Three. The fort and its entire zone were merged into Shinki Itten, right? We literally changed history. Regardless of what actually happened, the official stance as far as the System is concerned is that the fort has always been our territory.”

Hilde let out a low whistle, plucking a pickled pepper from the bowl on the table. “The world is confusing.”

Damn straight it was.

Gero narrowed an eye at the perpetually closed-lipped Wild Children councilmember, who still refused to participate more than absolutely necessary or tell anyone his actual name. “What about you lot, then? Is Higen out there doing his Higen thing on the Oaken Elves?”

The Wild Son shrugged. “Probably.”

Momo raised her eyebrows archly. “I hope you can manage a better answer than that.”

As usual, the High Priestess was the only Councilmember capable of mollifying the wild kobold. “This isn’t about us. We pick our targets carefully, and don’t leave mouths to spread rumors.” He swiveled an eye towards Bittercup. “Well. Except the once.”

The elf replied with the most humorless smile Shin had ever seen. “Yeah, thanks a billion.”

The Wild Son simply grunted in response.

“Isn’t Magica City really far away?” One of the hobgoblin Councilmembers asked. “How long would it take any Envoys we sent to even get there?”

“Well we got lots of problems, but that ain’t one o’ them.” Moots spread the scroll out over the table, nodding towards the glyph affixed directly below King Magica’s intensely fanciful signature. “That there’s a Travel Key. Should be wired up fer sendin’ folks towards a way station at the borders o’ Magica City, the good Goddess willin’ and the crick don’t rise.”

“So in summation,” Shin pressed his hands down on the table and pushed himself up from his cushion, rising to address the entire Council, “We’re begin summoned to a place we’ve never been, to account for actions we’re unaware of, using a magical piece of paper sent to us by a stranger. Does that about cover it?”

As the rest of the Council murmured amongst themselves, Mimasu gave his notes a quick scan. “Hm…hm!” He flashed Shin a thumbs up. “That covers it!”

“Good, great, grand.” Shin indulged in a deeply irritated sigh, then gave himself a shake. No time to waste complaining. “Alright, well. Does anyone have a burning desire to be one of the envoys? If anyone has some personal benefit to gain from a trip to Magica City, we may as well make the most of this hassle.”

Momo raised her hand. “The circumstances are obnoxious, but I was going to need to make the trip eventually anyway. Our Goddess isn’t part of any greater pantheon, but I need to establish friendly relations between Her and the mainstream deities of Magica.”

So what, sort of like a divine Play Date? “Anyone else?”

Gero raised her voice. “I’m in, too. If this is a trap, we’ll need someone to smash a way out of it.”

Huh. It seemed like an eternity since the first time Shin left this zone with Momo and Gero. There was a certain symmetry he appreciated to the three of them heading out into the unknown yet again.

“Hrm.” Hilde swallowed the last bite of her pepper, reaching out for another. “It’s a shame Bex isn’t around right now. I’ve been further than most of the people at this table, but never anywhere close to Magica City. Having someone who was familiar with that part of the world would have been useful.”

It was true enough. Shinki Itten’s favorite Player had said her goodbyes only a few days ago, vanishing off into the greater world to grind her last few levels until Level Twenty. Shin didn’t begrudge the girl having her own goals and priorities, but the timing was deeply unfortunate.

Mimasu perked up, a thought striking him. “Oh! What about you, Moots? Does your mysterious past include any more working knowledge of the ins and outs of the Destined Path?”

“Ehh, well, mebbe? But,” Moots offered a rueful shrug, “Ol’ Moots can’t leave the zone, don’cha know. Gotta stick around fer that quest o’ mine, so th’ dang ol’ System won’t let me through the barrier.”

Oh blah. Well as much as it pained him, Shin didn’t see any other option than going in blind. There simply wasn’t anyone else who–

“I’ve been to Magica City.”

Every eye at the table turned to peer at Bittercup, the elf looking as if she already halfway regretted saying anything. Shin had made a point of not making too many demands of her; he’d assumed that her willingness to hold the honorary elven position on the Council was the limit of her civic mindedness. And if Shin had to come up with the worst possible favor to ask of the world-weary woman, asking her to chaperone them on a trip to the center of Player activity in Magica would rank near the top.

But she was the one who brought it up. And if she’d actually been to Magica City…”Bittercup, I know it’s asking a lot,” Shin slowly began, “But if you’re willing to–”

“Yes yes, fine.” The woman shook her head, clearly as surprised as anyone else. “I’m willing. I owe you, don’t I?”

Shin firmly shook his head. “You absolutely do not.”

In response, Bittercup stuck out her tongue. “Well I say I do. So that settles it.”

The Schemer supposed that it did. They had considered the angles as best they could, and marshaled their forces to the best of their abilities. This was another dive into the unknown, but Shin had to take some comfort in their track record, didn’t he?

Well, he didn’t. Past isn’t prologue, and Shin knew that they couldn’t win every gamble. Besides, as he stared down at the scroll once more, Shin couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest. Because for the first time ever, he knew that they were dancing on someone else’s strings.