“Hey, want to see something neat?” Glandem inquired, passing his son’s enormous stuffed dragon off to his equally enormous garganto bodyguard. “I’ll show you something neat. Come on; this way.”

Just like that he turned to amble down a nearby avenue, happily nodding along as his son pummeled him with a barrage of details about his day at the carnival. As if the fact that Shin would simply follow without question was a forgone conclusion. And to the kobold’s deep annoyance, he had to admit that it was. There were only two possibilities here: Glandem sincerely wanted to talk, or they’d already fallen into his trap. That was it.

Either way, Shin figured he might as well see something neat while he was here.

Not that the decision was his alone to make. “You can still run,” Shin whispered to Bittercup. “We’d cover your back.”

The elf immediately shook her head, her face a mask of steel. “Can’t run. He’s definitely got agents in all of the alleys. But he won’t try anything violent with his son here” Despite her resolved words, Shin couldn’t help but notice the trembling in her hands. “So you’ve got to get us through this, Shin.”

“Okay, I will. I promise.”

“Good. ‘Cause if you don’t, I swear my ghost is gonna haunt the fuck out of your ghost.”

Fair enough. Shin glanced towards Momo and Gero in turn, finding them equally resolved. Mimasu, however, seemed completely distracted by the prompt window he was rapidly typing something into. “What are you doing, Mimi?”

“I told you, I am out of paper,” the scribe huffed, “But interesting stuff keeps happening! I’m just typing all of this stuff into the Additional Notes section of my Status Screen! Fate is being a real ass right now!”

Shin blinked. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear.”

“I swear!” Mimasu insisted. “I swear all the assin’ time!”

What more needed to be said? Shin pressed forward, quickly catching up with the leisurely pace Glandem had set for the benefit of his son. Through the streets of Magica City they trekked, the impossible bulk of Glandem’s bodyguard Carmello plowing a path through the teeming horde of excited Players. It wasn’t long before the elven king led them around a corner, and Shin found himself staring at the stone wall of a dead end.

Seriously? This was all just to lead them into some dumb backalley ambush? Honestly, Shin had expected more from a fellow Schemer. Well fuck, whatever; if this was how things were going down, Shin was fully prepared to get some blood in his teeth before–”

“Okay now, watch this.” Glandem officiously cleared his throat, then raised his voice. “Requesting access to the Magica City Branded Retail Plaza!”

A warm chime rang out in response, and the solid wall of the dead end vanished. To Shin’s deep surprise an entire hidden section of the city unfolded before his eyes, filled with glowing lights and clanging noise and rows upon rows of shops. The kobold knew that Magica was a big place, and that he’d only seen a fraction of what it had to offer, but this…this didn’t just seem unfamiliar, like some new piece of his world to experience. As he stared out at signs that danced and flashed as if they were alive, and entire sections of the street that somehow moved people without them needing to walk, Shin knew this wasn’t like that at all.

This place wasn’t different, it was alien.

“A bit gaudy, right?” Glandem called over his shoulder, leading them onto the people-moving side of the street. “That’s why it’s all hidden away. Most people don’t want advertisements for sneakers blaring at them while they’re play-acting Big Heroes, after all.”

“I see?” Shin replied, silently attempting to cajole an extremely hesitant Gero to step onto the moving street. “Why even have…um, whatever this is then?”

Glandem sighed. “Oh, because most people are boring, and Players are no exception. Eventually, they just want the things they already know.”

“Right,” Shin hissed through gritted teeth, Gero’s fingers burrowing into his shoulder as she skittishly rode behind him. “So this is all...what, then? You’re showing us some secret from the Player’s world?”

“Haha, what? No. This is lunch. I’m famished.”

What.

Sure enough, a few minutes later Shin and the rest of his group stood dumbly in the oddly flat light of a neatly tiled room, Glandem humming over his options as a chipper young elf in a black uniform embossed with a strange double-arch symbol patiently waited for his order.

“Let’s see,” the Oaken Elf King mused, glancing down at his son. “Nuggets for you?”

The boy bounced up and down on his heels. “Yes please~!”

“Right.” He smiled at the girl behind the counter. “Nuggets it is, then. With the apple slices.”

The elf prince pouted. “Apple slices?”

“Yes, apple slices. I’ll share some of my fries with you.”

“Hrm.” The boy considered that, a calculating look glimmering across his eyes. “If I get apple slices, and I have chocolate milk?”

Glandem shrugged helplessly, offering the cashier a dramatic sigh. “He’s very tricky. I have no idea where he gets it from. Chocolate milk, please.”

The prince cheered as the girl booped something into her screen, looking back up to aim her almost blindingly white smile at the Shinki Itten contingent. “And for your friends?”

“Hah, well,” Glandem started, peering back at the entirely on-guard kobolds. “I don’t think they’re hungry right now.” He reconsidered as his eyes landed on Shin. “Except for him. A fish sandwich seems appropriate?”

Shin’s mouth tightened into a severe line. “Sure. Fine.”

“Fantastic.”

A moment later they were crammed into a booth, the little boy contentedly munching on apple slices as Glandem busied himself with a large red cup of what seemed to be fried potato. Both of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, but…hrm. Shin eyed the food that the peppy counter girl had plopped in front of him. An almost perfectly square slab of what was supposedly fish, between some sort of bun? This was what Players ate? Seriously?

He caught Gero’s eye, and found a deep conflict raging inside the woman. She was clearly torn between her instincts to remain on edge against anything Glandem might offer and her deep, almost irresistible urge to tease Shin into eating the bizarre geometrical sandwich.

Might as well give it a try, Shin reasoned as he leaned down for a sniff. Glandem didn’t seem like the sort of try something as blatant as–

Shin recoiled as the scent of the so-called food coiled into his nostrils, immediately revising his opinion of his counterpart. Poison? Seriously?! The king must have had a sense of what Shin was thinking, though, because he quickly waved his hands disarmingly. “Right, I forgot; you’ve got those Enhanced Senses. That isn’t poison you’re smelling, that’s all the chemicals and preservatives they pump the food full of.”

“Really?” Shin couldn’t help remaining suspicious. “You mean they put this stuff in their food on purpose?”

“I know, right?” Glandem gave the fish sandwich a distasteful poke. “They don’t even need that sort of thing here. They can use actual magic to keep the food from ever spoiling. But they’re too used to the taste of all that nasty mess from their own world, and apparently just doesn’t taste right without it. There’s a lesson in that, I’m sure.” He pulled out another fry, thoughtfully inspecting it. “I do like the fries, though.” He extended the morsel towards Shin. “Want one?”

“No thanks.”

“Aw, you really should.” Glandem waggled the fry enticingly. “We’re supposed to be breaking bread, you know. Sharing a table as neighbors, in the name of peace? That’s probably sacred or something, right?”

Judging it the path of least resistance, Shin plucked the fry from Glandem’s fingers and popped it into his mouth, dutifully chewing. “It’s…fine. Kinda salty.”

“True; I probably should cut back myself.” Glandem sighed. “But they are–” He paused as his son tugged on his sleeve, leaning down towards the boy. “Yes, what is it?”

The prince wiggled in his seat. “Um, can I play in the ball pit?”

Glandem turned his head towards his mammoth bodyguard. “You’ll watch him?”

The immaculately dressed garganto nodded. “Yes, sire.”

“Okay then.” Glandem bopped his son on the nose. “You listen to Mister Carmello and play safe, okay?”

The boy had already wriggled out of the booth and was dashing away towards the colorful play area built into the back of the building. “Okaaaay~!”

Glandem chuckled as Carmello trundled after the prince, wistfully watching his son. “It’ll be empty, you know,” he remarked to no one in particular. “Players have to be eighteen and older, and the play area here is ten and under only. This world is so stupid.” He sighed again. “It won’t be that much longer before he can’t play in there anymore, either.”

‘Well this is all just heartwarming,” Gero growled, leaning over the table, “But why don’t you hurry up and tell us what we’re doing here, huh?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Glandem flatly replied. “We’re getting to know each other.”

Gero barked out a laugh. “As if we didn’t already know too much about you.”

Glandem rolled his eyes, looking away from Gero as he gestured towards Shin with a fry. “Are you comfortable with the amount you already know about me?” When the other Schemer didn’t immediately respond, he took that as confirmation. “See?” Glandem smugly chomped down on the fry. “He knows. It’s impossible to know too much about someone you’re in conflict with.”

“Are we?” Momo quietly asked. “In conflict, that is. Because I don’t think we–”

“Of course we are.” Glandem dropped his empty box down onto the tray, wiping his hands clean with a napkin. “And I suppose we might as well start addressing that now. First order of business,” –He pointed a finger towards Bittercup, the woman quailing under his gaze– “Are you coming back with me?”

Bittercup’s lips clearly moved, but even Shin’s powerful ears heard nothing.

“You’re going to have to speak up,” Glandem asserted, lacing his fingers together. “You have to know that you’re in a position of significant bargaining power here. Becoming the last Repast Girl, sidestepping those three imbeciles…whatever it is you’re angeling for, I’m willing to entertain–”

“No,” Bittercup exclaimed, clearly surprised to have found her own voice. “I don’t, I mean…” She shook herself for focus, then glared at Glandem. “I’m not going back with you. I’m never going back. I’ll die first.”

The King of the Oaken Elves met Bittercup’s defiant eyes with his own steady gaze. “Are you sure?”

She nodded fiercely. “Yes.”

Glandem simply stared at the other elf for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, fine. Whatever. I’m sure I’ll find some other gag.”

Whatever Bittercup had expected her one-time King’s response to be, it clearly wasn’t this. “Huh?”

“I said, it’s fine,” Glandem repeated, rising from the booth. “And honestly, I have more important demands on my time than you right now, so let’s just move past it, okay?” He turned his eyes towards Shin, motioning towards another table with a jerk of his thumb. “Let’s get the real discussion underway, yeah?”

Gero scowled. “What, we’re not invited?”

“No, you’re not.” Glandem raised his eyebrows. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just that trying to negotiate with a table full of people is a waste of time. If you want to nominate some other representative besides Shin, feel free.”

“....Fine, whatever,” Gero grumbled, folding her arms in resigned resignation. “But we’ll still be listening in, even if you go to the other side of the building.”

“My dear Gero,” Glandem proclaimed, pressing his hand to his heart. “I do not give one single shit.” With that, he turned on his heels and started off deeper into the dining area. “You coming, Shin?”

“Right behind you,” Shin called, hesitating long enough to catch Gero’s eye. “If this goes south, you know what to do. I’d love to see you find some way to turn that fish sandwich into a weapon.”

“Way ahead of you,” Gero confirmed, reaching up to grab the hem of Shin’s robe and give him a small shake. “Now go do what you do best.”

Glandem smiled in what seemed to be genuine pleasure as Shin slipped into the seat across from him, spreading his hands out across the table. “I’ve got a thousand questions for you,” the elf admitted, “And I’m sure you have just as many for me. Do you want to go first?”

Shin considered the offer. “Well, there is one thing I wanted to ask.” Glandem motioned for the kobold to go on, and so he did. “Is your Status Screen an asshole?”

Glandem could only stare at Shin for an endless moment, his mouth slightly agape. And then he roared in laughter, pounding his fist onto the table in a raucous display of delight. “Oh man, I knew it! You are another one! Ha, wow.” He wiped a tear away from an eye as his laughter trailed off. “And yeah, it absolutely is. The last time I checked my Description, it was just a series of letters and symbols arranged to make a crude picture of a penis.”

“Ha!” Shin couldn’t resist a grin. “Mine’s not that bad yet, but you did get a head start.”

“True, too true.” Glandem shook his head in disbelief. “Do you understand how crazy it is that we’re both sitting here? I was born a meaningless noble in some moldy forest on the other side of the world, you were born as lowbie trash in an unfinished zone.” He pressed his finger down emphatically into the table. “And now here we both are, hundreds of miles from where we started, the same Class, and part of the same conflict. I’d say the Gods had a sense of humor, if the Gods weren’t an empty farce.”

“I had heard that you’ve got too many Gods,” Shin remarked. “What was that all about?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Glandem groused. “That was one plot that did not work out. I thought that I could maybe increase the chances of spawning Demi-Gods by…look, it doesn’t matter. Dumb plan.”

“Well, while we’re on the subject of things that are dumb,” Shin noted, silently thrilled with his own exceptional transition, “You do know that I still have your son, right? Don’t you want him back?”

A dark cloud flashed before the elf’s eyes. “You have my–” It passed just as soon as it appeared, however. “Oh. You mean Ceril.”

“Yes? He’s not been harmed, but he’s just sitting around in a cell right now and–”

“Let me tell you something about the world, Shin,” Glandem interrupted, his mood visibly soured. “Quick question: how old are you?”

Shin frowned slightly; where was this going? “We don’t really count time in the standard way, but I’m roughly twen–”

“No you aren’t,” the other Schemer interrupted again. “You’re like eight months old. It’s been maybe a full year since you popped.”

“Oh, that’s what you meant.” Shin shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s true.”

“Uh-huh. I’m only nine, myself. And seeing as the Kingdoms of Magica are ten years old, anyone who says they’re older than that has bought into their own backstory.”

“What’s your point?” Shin inquired, tilting his head. “I know that the System can change our memories. But if it feels real, it’s real. Right?”

“Wrong.” Glandem pointed over to where his son was gleefully cavorting in the ball pit “He is real. Okay? He is six. He didn’t pop, he was born. My wife carried him for nine months and I helped pull him out of her. Every single memory he has is real, not some insidious script slotted into his brain by the System.”

Glandem silently watched his son play for another moment, the light returning to his eyes. But when he finally turned back, his expression had darkened again. “He is my son. My only son. But when I became King, the System decided I needed a bunch more sons. So it helpfully popped twelve total strangers with prebaked Daddy issues to fix that issue for me.”

“Huh.” Shin tapped a claw against the table, mulling Glandem’s familial blight. “Is that why you shoved Ceril to the ass-end of your territory?”

“No, I shoved Ceril to the ass-end of my territory because he was and is useless,” Glandem snorted. “At least I could squeeze a bit of value out of the other eleven. That piece of shit Ceril was only ever good at showing his ass and trying to bully my actual son. Let him sit in your cell forever, for all I care.”

Shin leaned in, his ears perking up assertively. “Okay, well, the problem is I do care. Because I don’t want to be in front of King Majesty a month from now, only to find that you’re suddenly devastated by the way we captured and imprisoned your brave son Ceril.”

Glandem’s scowl slowly spread into a sly grin. “Sure, okay. We can work up an official story between now and then.” He gave the kobold an admiring once over. “I have to say, I’m impressed. Not even just for how little an amount of time you’ve been doing this. I’m very impressed indeed.”

“I wish I could say I was equally impressed with everything you’ve done,” Shin countered, forcing his heart to re-harden. He couldn’t deny that this was fun, but it was equally impossible to deny the things he knew Glandem had done. “Those Galas of yours, for instance?”

“No, I don’t imagine you would be,” Glandem agreed, completely unoffended by the accusatory tone. “But are we really going to waste time comparing the blood on our hands? Because the welcoming committee I sent to Feldspar would probably have liked a chance to chime in on that score.” The elf eyed Shin, clearly weighing the kobold. “That’d be tough, though, seeing as your horde of forest murderers buried them all behind the mines.”

Shin fought to keep his ears from folding back. “I don’t know what you’re–”

Glandem trilled his lips in annoyance. “Oh please, why even bother? It’s not as if I’m judging you for it; as you’ve already pointed out, I’ve done far worse. And I’ll almost certainly do even worse before I’m finished.” The elf shot Shin a look. “I’m just disappointed that you’re not further along on your journey than this.”

Further along on his…Shin squinted at the other Schemer. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re clearly still an optimist.” Glandem leaned in, his eyes piercing. “Take that city of yours. By all accounts, it’s a lovely place. Right?” When Shin hesitantly nodded, Glandem shook his head in disapproval. “That’s the wrong move. You’re still trying to play the System’s game. Trying to make yourself appealing to the Players.”

“Well, that’s the game we have to play, isn’t it?” Shin insisted defensively. “If Shinki Itten wasn’t attractive to Players, we’d have been Pruned.”

Glandem shook his head again. “You’re almost right, but you’re also entirely wrong. You have to make yourself attractive to Players, it’s true. But you’re attracting the wrong kind of Players. Who’s going to want to come to your picturesque little city, hm? Do you know?”

Shin replied without thinking. “Normal people?”

“Normal people?!” Glandem snorted in disbelief. “You really are young. ‘Normal People’, he says.” Glandemed pressed his elbows onto the table, an earnest expression crossing his face. “Have you ever been to Quercusta, Shin? Well let me tell you, it’s awful. Most of the people who live there are awful. And that is by design. Because I don’t want ‘normal people’ to come to my city. I want to attract complete pieces of shit.”

“I don’t…why, though?” Shin’s brain simply refused to wrap itself around what Glandem was saying, and there was a legitimate chance it might drive him insane. “Why would you want to surround yourself with bad people?”

“Because we’re not talking about ‘people’,” Glandem retorted, a fire building behind his eyes. “We’re talking about Players. What is a ‘normal’ Player, hm? Someone who stays within the System’s boundaries, who wants to have a nice time, who’s ready to follow the rules. Right?”

Shin reluctantly nodded. “Right…”

Glandem pounced on Shin’s agreement. “Well those rules empower your precious Players to be complete monsters and still feel righteous about it. Tell me, have you met a Player you think highly of? One you actually like?” Glandem quickly held up a finger. “Not just pitied, or found amusing. One you actually consider a friend.”

Shin’s thoughts immediately turned towards Bex as he confidently replied. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“You’re lucky, then,” Glandem noted. “What Level is your Player, do you know?”

“She’s around Twenty, I think. Why?”

“Because that means your friend the Player has gained Twenty Levels worth of Experience, and that means she is playing the game.” Glandem narrowed his eyes. “Do you think she got all of those Levels collecting berries? Or fetching lost water jugs? Do you really think that she hasn’t even once walked into a gnoll camp, killed twenty of them, and then skipped merrily away to draw their lives in for a new pair of pants?”

It took Shin longer to respond than he’d imagined it would. “...I don’t know.”

Glandem kept pressing his advantage. “And once she’d gotten her twenty kills, and sold her pair of blood paints for fifteen silver, do you think she thought of those gnolls even again? Do you think she even once considered that maybe, just maybe, she was a murderer?”

The elf raised his hands solemnly, extending his fingers for Shin to see. “I have blood on my hands, Shin. So you do. But we both know it. We admit it. But the System tells Players it’s okay for them to kill certain people, to commit the endorsed atrocities. So these Normal Players you think so highly of can hold their heads high and know that they are good people, even as they’re stained with the misery of thousands.”

Shin shook his head, almost as if he could shake away the elf’s accusations. “And how exactly are your pieces of shit any better?”

Glandem scoffed. “They aren’t better. But they are trying to skirt the restraints of the System, and that changes the whole power dynamic.” He raised his arms above his head, taking a moment to stretch before continuing on. “See, you’re trying to form bonds with your Players. Friendships. Alliances. The psychology on that is all wrong, though. How can you be friends with someone who fundamentally doesn’t care whether or not you exist?”

“I don’t agree with that,” Shin insisted. “There are Players who know we’re real.”

“Sure there are,” Glandem conceded. “I think most of them probably know we’re real. But the point is that they don’t care. That’s why my Players aren’t my friends. They’re my accomplices. As far as Players are concerned, a conspiracy is a much stronger bond than any friendship.”

“And that’s how you justify sacrificing your own people to these Players?” Shin demanded. “Because it’s the best thing for you?”

“Yes?” Glandem stared at Shin, blinking as he slowly realized that the kobold expected him to elaborate. “What else do you expect me to say? If they were smarter, or more resolved, they could’ve found a way out of it. That one you brought with you managed it, after all.”

“So that’s really it, then?” Shin spat, disgust rising in his eyes. “Your grand philosophy of life is ‘Every Man for Himself’?!”

“Shin. Of course it is.” Glandem sighed, offering the righteously indignant kobold a look of sincere regret. “I’m only telling you all of this because I’ve already been where you are now, Shin. If someone, anyone had been honest with me about the nature of our world, when I was in your shoes?” Glandem shook his head bitterly. “Well. Suffice to say, no one did. There was absolutely a time when I thought I could slowly change my little corner of the world, that I could create a better life for my people. Now, I know better.”

“No,” Shin immediately snapped back. “I don’t accept that. You’re just excusing your own failures by telling yourself never possible. You’re lazy, Glandem. You stopped trying.”

“Mm. Maybe. Or maybe, just maybe, I know a little fucking more than you do.” The elf flicked up a finger, checking something on the prompt that appeared before him. “I actually have to thank you for your dodging of Feldspar, you know. Getting here as quickly as you did gave me the unexpected opportunity to show you something that I think will help illustrate my point a smidge.”

With that, Glandem rose from his seat. “Tell me, Shin: Do you know what Server Maintenance is?” The kobold slowly shook his head as Glandem waved towards his bodyguard. “Well either way, you’ve been through several and never even noticed.”

“Sire?” the garganto rumbled.

“Let Leo play for another few minutes, and then take the Teleport straight home.”

“Understood.”

Glandem lifted up his hand to wave to his son, his serious demeanor temporarily replaced by a sunny smile. “Daddy’s got to finish up his work, but I’ll be home soon, okay? Love you!”

The little prince called back from deep within the ball pit. “Okay love you too Daddy~!”

Shin had risen from his own seat as Glandem turned back, his pleased smile slipping as he glanced back at the kobold. “Where were we?”

The Schemer frowned. “Server Maintenance.”

“Ah right, of course. Follow me, won’t you?” Glandem waved for Shin to fall in behind him, calling over to the rest of the Shinki Itten contingent almost as an afterthought. “Hey, let’s go on a little field trip, huh? You’ll all find this interesting.”

Gero immediately slipped in beside Shin, hissing into his ear. “What’s going on now? What’s he up to?”

“I don’t know,” Shin confessed. “Be ready.”

If Glandem took offense to the kobolds’ blatant mistrust, he didn’t show it. “So okay, Server Maintenance. Basically, there are stretches of time every so often where Players are unable to enter our world.” He politely held open the door of the restaurant for his guests, chuckling as Bittercup darted past him as quickly as she could manage. “On the Procedural side of the world, these periods come and go without much fuss. There aren’t that many Players in Shinki Itten, after all, and these periods don’t last very long. So who’d ever notice?”

“So you’re about to show us something we’ve already experienced, and that we won’t even notice,” Shin deadpanned. “This is really your big finish?”

“Ha-ha, Don’t be so small-minded, Shin. It doesn’t suit you.” Glandem led them through the alleyway entrance of the Magica City Branded Retail Plaza, the stone wall closing behind them as they stepped forth into the Player-choked hurley-burley that was the main thoroughfare. “Things are a little different here on the Destined Path. But why bother telling you? You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

With that, Glandem leaned himself against a wall and began to wait, idly gazing out over the comings and goings of the peoples of Magica City. It did seem clear to Shin that the Players were in more of a hurry than usual; they must have been trying to get to certain places before they were forced out of Magica. Well even if his opinion of the world was significantly brighter than Glandem’s, Shin had to admit he was looking forward to the temporary reprieve. Magica City was far too busy for his tastes.

A mass groan of annoyance filled the streets as a loud gong rattled through the air, scattered swears directed at no one in particular chorusing through the irritated din. Glandem held up his hand, slowly ticking down his fingers one at a time. Each time a finger fell, the gong and a fresh wave of resentment rang forth. And then Glandem dropped his last finger, and there was suddenly nothing but silence.

The smash turn from the tumultuous noises of a busy city to this utter stillness was terribly jarring, actually sapping the strength from Shin’s knees as he wobbled woozily. He shivered, the hair on his ears and tail standing on end, and chuckled awkwardly when he noticed Momo and Gero doing the same. Well this was…weird? But at least now they’d have a chance to experience Magica City as it really should be, with out all of the–

Shin’s ears slowly began to fold as he realized that it wasn’t just the noise of the Players that had faded. It was everything. Literally every sound in the entire city had stopped. The kobold straightened up, his breath catching in his chest as he realized that the citizens who had just moments before been going about their busy lives now simply stood wherever they had been when the Maintenance hit, slump-shouldered and glassy eyed as each and every one of them simply stared at down at the street.

“What’s…what’s wrong with them?” Momo asked, nearly reaching out to touch the shoulder of a nearby street vendor before flinching her paw back. “Are they in some sort of stasis or something?”

“Nope,” Glandem replied, straightening himself up. “They’re all still very much there. There just aren’t any Players around.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Gero insisted. “Why don’t they go home?”

“What homes?” Glandem shot back. “Why would they have homes? Oh, I’m sorry; do you think these people have lives?” The elf strode forward and snagged a citizen by the shoulder, the man managing little more than a faint grunt in his defense as Glandem gave him a shake. “These people don’t have homes. They don’t have families. They don’t eat, they don’t sleep, they don’t anything besides what the System wants them to do. Namely, rushing purposelessly back and forth along these streets, forever, to create a bit of background activity that the Players can ignore.”

He released the man with the slightest of shoves, causing him to collapse impotently to the ground and set about staring at nothing again. “And don’t ever forget: You are the ones that the System doesn’t trust. You are the ones that the Mods and Sheds are constantly surveilling, The only thing that keeps the System from turning each and every one of us into that,” –He pointed down at the motionless man– “Is their own sloth and lack of focus. But make no mistake: This is their vision for Magica.”

Glandem threw out his hands dramatically, his face a mask of cold fury as his voice lifted into an accusing shout. “This whole world is nothing but a ravenous machine, and we’re nothing but the sheep being shoved down its insatiable gullet! And I cannot pull myself, pull my son out of these gnashing teeth if I have the weight of a thousand people dragging me down!” He shook his head, eyes clenched and teeth gritted as he held his silence for a moment. Then he sighed, his anger seemingly having boiled over. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t. Someone has to stay here and feed the machine, after all.”

Shin honestly wasn’t sure what he could say. “Then how do we factor into this?” He quietly asked. “Are we supposed to just feed ourselves to the world? For your benefit?”

“I mean, probably.” Glandem shrugged. “But it’s like I said. If you’re smart enough, and if you’re resolved enough? You’ll find a way out, too. But probably not.” The elf summoned a prompt, quickly scanning something. “Even still, that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way to make our recent conflicts favor both of us. I’m certainly not opposed to someone else clawing to freedom, so long as they don’t try to do it over my back.”

Shin didn’t immediately respond. First he bent down, carefully slipping his hands under the prone citizen’s shoulders and attempting to help him back to his feet. He only struggled for a moment before Gero had moved to help him, and Bittercup and Momo as well. If the man felt anything for his benefactors he didn’t show it, simply continuing to stare down at the ground once the Shinki Itten contingent had steadied him.

But Shin certainly felt clearer-minded. “So that’s it, then?” he asked of Glandem, a challenging spark in his eyes. “All of this was just you telling us that the world sucks, and you suck, and we all suck, so we should just scrabble for whatever we can get?”

“You’ve got the jist of it,” Glandem candidly confirmed. “There was one last thing, though. I’m going to hurt you now.”

Shin’s hackles shot up. “What?”

“I’m going to hurt you now,” the elf repeated, punching something into his prompt. “Don’t get me wrong, I think we can collaborate on something interesting here? But not until you’ve gotten a better taste of how things work. And besides,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “You’ve already hurt me.” He let his eyes lift away from his prompt, a bit of that cold fury returning as he stared at Bittercup. “Take something from me, and I’ll return the favor ten times over. You don’t want to believe the truth of the world? Fine. You really only need to know one thing for certain.”

He decisively made a final selection on his window. “Fuck around and find out.”

With that, he vanished.

Shin growled into the empty space where Glandem had once been, his noise of canine disapproval chorused by Gero and Momo. There had almost been moments there when he thought he almost might have liked Glandem. He had to be grateful that the elf had gone to such lengths to disabuse him of that notion. “Let’s hurry up and get out of here,” Shin remarked. “The Teleport Key will get us back to Anyport, and then we can just–”

He paused when he noticed that the color hadn’t returned to Bittercup’s face, the elven woman still white as a sheet. “Bittercup? Are you alright? I know it must have been hard facing–”

“It’s not that,” Bittercup quickly insisted. “He just spent them.”

Shin tilted his head. “He just spent what?”

“His Royal Coins.” Bittercup paused long enough for a full-body shiver to work its way up her entire frame. “He just spent all one hundred and fifty Royal Coins.”