“Apologies for the interruption everyone, I’m sure you’re all eager to get on your way home, wherever that may be. The wagons are yours to use as you please. I can help you dump the cages off them unless you find a reason to keep them.”

  I opened my arms, welcoming them to the camp.

  “Load up what you can from this camp, as there won’t be anyone coming back here for it. Let myself or Armela know if you require anything of us once she returns from the cave.”

  Turning back to the three women beside me, I brought up the brigands.

  “The man with the shattered shin, as well as the leader, still draws breath; what would you like to do about them?”

  The man who’d had his lower leg removed had bled to death while unconscious, so he was no longer a concern.

  “They can rot for all I care. You’ve learned what you needed from the leader, yes? I’ve nothing else to do with this lot of scum.”

  Belimra turned her nose up at the two broken men, essentially dismissing their existence.

  “Aye, what the long-ear said! Arenae a use to us, and we cannae be draggin’ their bones back tae Barrowdeep just tae dirty up the granite. Best ye plant ‘em somewhere nice and dark where they can get on feedin’ the trees.”

  Torter pitched her two cents in, which Jorter simply nodded along with.

  After a glance around at the busy people and seeing absolutely no interest in anything that wasn’t related to them leaving, it was decided that the two men would be put down. I opened a rift to the cave where Armela was calmly shaking blood from the fur on her arms.

  The man I’d pinned to the floor lay dead at her feet. I briefly thought about whether his punishment had fit the crime. Ultimately, he’d only insulted Armela and Nia’cyl. Were strong words enough to justify murder?

  I’d warned him multiple times there would be consequences for what he said, and he persisted. Did he know he’d be killed? I had known Armela would likely kill him. She was quick to anger, and life seemed to be just another form of currency to her, to be spent and saved when prudent.

  Would I need to be an arbiter of change here? Should I be bringing my old life into this one? Enforcing my morality on these people as though I were the singular voice of reason and direction…

  I quieted my mind before it could travel too far down that track. I’d have to revisit this issue when I wasn’t grasping at straws every other day.

  “I’ve got two more for you, my love.”

  I relayed to her via drone as I dropped the two unconscious men onto the floor next to her.

  “They don’t leave this cave unless they’re in very small pieces, alright?”

  She swivelled her head to the drone and nodded, a savage grin spreading across her lips.

  “No time limit?”

  I laughed.

  “Take all the time you need, Armela.”

  With that, she turned to the two injured men, and I shut the portal.

  Roughly two hours had passed since Seta had reached out to me, and I had heard nothing further from her. I’d been listening in passively to the drones that had been collected at the village chief’s residence but it didn’t seem like the priests had been by to inspect them; likely they were still making rounds through the village to visit each of the families of the children who had received one.

  Seta had left hers tucked inside her straw mattress along with the spoils of her daily grinding. I wondered if any of that would be detectable to any of the scans members of the clergy could use. It wasn’t unlikely, but I’d just have to wait to see.

  One of the ex-prisoners came over and requested that I help them unload some cages from the wagons; they’d keep a few to sell as scrap metal when they got back to Eprie. I asked him if they would stop over in Hilst as it was a much closer destination than Eprie and they might resupply there.

  I also informed the man that there was currently a contingent of Rel priests there. Given what the brigand leader had said, I doubted any of these people would run back into the arms of their lovely ‘God’ anytime soon.

  He simply said he didn’t know and shrugged his shoulders. There wasn’t any kind of leader in the group, it seemed. Turning to the three women, I asked if any of them would be interested in wrangling the group on their journey back, and with a quick glance between them, they all shook their heads.

  Turning back to the man, I apologised and then informed him he was now the de facto leader. I let him know they would stop in Hilst, that there was an inn along the main road that had taken in the group I’d liberated from the camp before they arrived, and—based on my observations of the village through Seta’s drone—it didn’t seem like anyone, even the priests, had taken up occupancy there since the first groups arrival.

  There had been some rumblings about my liberating the camp, but because of my stunt with the drones, the survivors from the camp found that their explanation of what had occurred fell on less than enthusiastic ears. I had kicked myself when I’d learned of that, but as I’d said, infamy was just as useful.

  Naturally, they had stripped the camp of the valuables, so I produced a small number of silver coins and informed the man to distribute them among the group. I knew that silver was relatively more valuable than copper, but less so than gold.

  The coins that had been kept at the camp were easy enough to replicate. They were hand-hammered by a smith using a pre-formed die. I could tell that the deviations between individual coins were far too big to be machine-made, so there was no press or minting factory turning these out.

  They all came with a lightly knurled edge where the sides of the die would prevent the coin from splitting or expanding. On one side was just the head of a roaring lion. On the other was a crest composed of a kite shield and two crossed spears. It was simple, but clearly marked the coin as belonging to a kingdom.

  I’d figured the coinage worked in batches of 100, where 100 copper amounted to 1 silver, but I hadn’t actually asked anyone, and the man who I’d presented the silver to hadn’t made a sound as he took the bag with wide eyes.

  Both Jorter and Torter licked their lips as they eyed the exchange, even Belimra cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “Where did you get that money? You aren’t some noble-born viscount or baron, are you? Clearly, you must own land of some magnitude for you to be handing out that kind of money. What family are you from? What part of the continent?”

  I’d accidentally stumbled into an interrogation.

  “Sky be damned! Forget where he’s from! Can ye get more o’ that coin, lad? I dinnae give a beards twist if yer from across the mountains or from the taint o’ the rocks themselves, me and Torter’d be ridin’ yer shiny, gilded cock all the way back whence ye came if you shared that secrets with us!”

  Torter quickly added to Jorter’s… expressive enthusiasm.

  “Aye, lad, Jorter spoke true, we’re very interested in knowin’ how ye did that. Ye’ve nae pockets tae speak of, nor do ye got any bags hangin’ from yer hips, so where’d that wee sack o’ silver come from?”

  I didn’t want to admit that I had simply created it. I could imagine that would lead to all kinds of trouble both from them, and the world at large.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “I’ve got a sizeable stash of coins saved up from my wanderings. I simply brought some out using the same magic I sent that angry little man away with.”

  Producing a little rift in the palm of my hand, I produced a second bag of silver for them to inspect. Torter took one and immediately bit down on it, flapping her tongue across her lips once or twice for… some reason, I wasn’t quite sure why she did that.

  Building a flavour profile?

  “Aye, this is some fine silver, lad. I wager the smith who wrought these coins must’ve been a longbeard. Nae better hammer-throwers in all the four corners. Nae doubt in my mind.”

  I assumed longbeard was a term for a seasoned dwarf smith, but didn’t feel like clarifying.

  “You're welcome to that bag, Torter; on the condition you split its contents with Belimra.”

  I pointed at the now thoroughly irritated Elf woman, who regarded Torter with the air of an inconvenienced noble.

  The dwarf looked up at Belimra and then back to me. It honestly took more consideration from her than I’d imagined. The dislike for each other must have been fairly substantial if this amount of money had them salivating one minute, and seriously considering their options the next.

  “Augghhh, alright, lad, I’ll take yer damn coins; Miss Evergreen here can put her half towards sleepin’ in a longer bed! Ha-ha-ha!”

  The same, gritty, earthen laugh spilled from her as she snatched the money out of my hand and immediately began to count out the coins. She got to six and then passed the bag with the remainder to Belimra.

  “Torteeeerrrrr…. There were ten coins in the bag…”

  I tsked at her and emphasised my words with a raised brow.

  “Golly, boy, and here I thought you’da let one slip for me! Cannae we just say I ‘lost’ one? Dinnae my charms sway ye?”

  She batted her heavy eyelashes at me in what I could only imagine was her idea of a pitiful look. I shook my head.

  “Torter, if my eye wandered to every attractive dwarf that came along, Armela would have my head on the end of a pike faster than your ass hits the ground.”

  There was a pregnant pause before both she and Jorter erupted into a full-blown laughing fit. They laughed so hard their faces turned beet red. Even Belimra couldn’t wipe the smile off her face fast enough for me not to notice it.

  When the pair finally settled from their bout of hysterics, they thanked me for helping bleed the remainder of their worries and set out for the wagons.

  “Torteeerrrr… Belimra’s coin is still in your hand…”

  She spun around and tossed the coin to Belimra.

  “Bah! Ye’ve got sharper wit than most of the rockheads in Barrowdeep! If yer ever down south ways, ye come lookin’ for Torter and Jorter, aye? We’ll be makin’ sure ye get yer silver's worth, boy ’o! Just dinnae go blabbin’ to that slab I call a husband! Nae that he’d hear ya over all the hammerin’! Hah!”

  And with that, they made their way to the wagons to help load. I still needed to get the cages off, but Belimra had been lingering at my side, likely to speak with me in the absence of the Dwarven women.

  “It’s strange, wouldn’t you say?”

  The abrupt question caused a ripple through my mind. Strange? Everything was strange. None of this had ever happened to me before; no one here was normal; all of this was very strange. But which specific thing did she mean? I swept through my memories, tracing everything with my pattern recognition.

  She had to mean my interaction with the Dwarven women. But the interaction itself was fine… then… in a broader context? The fact that I was interacting with the dwarves at all? That seemed normal enough as well. They were speaking with others at the camp, and while there had been a hint of racism to some of them, it all seemed amicable enough.

  So, an even broader context? The fact that the Dwarves were even here? They came from Barrowdeep, which was somewhere far south of here, from what I’d gathered. And typically, Dwarven folk didn’t venture too far from their towns and mines. Or at least that’s how it had been where I’d come from.

  So how’d they end up in a slave caravan from Eprie? Why were they in Eprie?

  “It’s possible they were captured closer to home and relayed up to Eprie through multiple stops. I suppose it’s also possible they were on some errand that saw them out of Barrowdeep. It’s hard to say for sure without knowing the broader scope of the slavers’ ring of operations.”

  Belimra stared at me. Obviously not expecting that I’d pick up on her thread of conversation.

  “You struck me as some aloof, aristocratic freeloader. There’s a bumbling nature to you and your actions that I can’t quite place. You clearly know what’s going on, or at least more than you try to let on, but that thing about the money really threw me off.”

  She appraised me like some strange organism. An interesting subject. Maybe an alluring piece of art to be interpreted.

  “I suppose an aristocrat wouldn’t kneel in this… filth… the way you did… I can’t figure you out, and that troubles me.”

  So she was studying my eyes, probably trying to gather more clues to help piece together her puzzle.

  “It’s not so complicated. I’m just very, very new to all this and have just been taking things as they come. If I come across like I’m not sure what I’m doing, then it’s likely because I don’t.”

  I shrugged honestly.

  “If I come across like I’m rich, it’s likely because I am. There’s a little more to it than that, but for the most part, what you see is what there is.”

  Her eyes widened as I spoke, and then she let out a small chuckle. It was cute, light and airy—as you’d expect from someone who weighed about as much as a pile of down feathers.

  “So what you’re saying is you’re an idiot genius?”

  It was my turn to chuckle, and I scratched the back of my head. The bashful mannerism wasn’t too far from what I’d been feeling, but exaggerating the situation would help to normalise my awkwardness in her eyes.

  “Belimra, all I can tell you is I am what I am.”

  I splayed my hands, gesturing that I was laying my cards on the table for her.

  “There is much that I know, and a great deal more that I don’t. What I do know is that our next stop will be Eprie. And a great reckoning will occur there for the people who orchestrated this brutality.”

  I let my features harden as I spoke about the dark subject.

  “And if there are other branches conducting these affairs, then they shall be rooted out and terminated like this one. I will not stop until this operation is cinders.”

  A sparkle caught in her eye, and she smiled genuinely. A hint of remorse and loss creeping below her look.

  “I wish you’d come sooner… they… that man—he—”

  She broke off momentarily, reliving the pain in her recollection.

  “Those animals did things to t-the women. To… the C-children…”

  Her hands flew to her mouth, and she shuddered with a sob. I looked over at the sisters as they tossed sacks up onto the wagon. Jorter caught my eye. The smile she’d had faded instantly as she noticed Belimra, and a hard, cold look of fury swept over her. I nodded to her, and she returned it, going back to hoisting sacks and bags over the side of the wagon with a renewed determination.

  The trauma was all still there. They hadn’t moved on from it at all; they were just exceptional at putting on a mask. Taking these hits one after another after another until it became an automatic instinct. Smile through it, toil for another day, and sleep.

  Keep moving.

  The pain was all still there; they just glossed it over with a smile.

  It broke my heart.

  It also meant that Armela hadn’t been exceptionally quick to ‘move on’ from events. She was likely using me as an emotional crutch to prop herself up through the trauma. She wasn’t moving quickly because she loved me; she needed to bury the hurt in serotonin and dopamine.

  I had no desire to divert my course, or slow Armela. We would need to work through her grief together as things progressed, or I could end up with an entirely dysfunctional mate someday.

  My sympathy for Belimra swelled, and I reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. She swayed towards me but caught herself; I thought for a moment she might lean into me and cry into my chest as Armela had.

  She wiped her eyes, cleared her throat and straightened her tunic. Obviously, she was moving through several self-soothing motions to get her emotions back under control.

  “Stop them. All of them. Don’t let them do this to anyone else. Especially…”

  She looked over to where the little girl from before was helping Torter sort through salvageable rations and bedding. The dwarven woman was doing a fine job of occupying the girls’ attention.

  “Especially the children.”

  I returned her gaze with one sapped of all life. The dead stare only a lifeless machine could give. Devoid of even a soul.

  “None will survive my judgement. None will escape my wrath, I swear it to you.”

  Belimra swallowed, momentarily concerned for her own safety, though she likely couldn’t place exactly why.

  It’s hard to navigate the uncanny valley. When you’re speaking with a human—or humanoid in this case—there’s always a vibrancy to their expression. An essence of ‘life’ that just cannot be replicated.

  And when you remove that, the face contorts into something dead. Even on the recently deceased, it’s a noticeable lack of something. She had witnessed the true face of death, animate and expressing an intent to conduct its will upon those responsible for the torment they’d brought upon the world.

  “G-good, I’m going to hold you to that, Vita. I will be doing some digging when I get back to Eprie as well. I’m sure I was set up for this by someone related to the council; I just don’t have any evidence. Maybe I’ll be able to give you some leads when I finally find something.”

  I nodded and added.

  “Armela was the same; she was drugged before her convoy was raided. One of the hired mercenaries had dosed the wine the night they were ambushed, and she couldn’t fight back. I had assumed it was a plant from the slavers’ ring, placed there to spring the jaws of their trap.”

  A thoughtful look came across her face.

  “There should be ledgers of the convoy’s departure within the finance guild, as well as a record of all the mercenaries and adventurers that accepted the escort request. It’s filed with the guild before the convoy departs in order to track the movements of goods between cities.”

  Her confidence was growing as she spoke. The shadow of death receded from her mind as she filled it with plans and tactics.

  “Assuming it wasn’t tampered with, then there may be a record of our saboteur. Do you know exactly when the convoy departed?”

  I shook my head.

  “Armela didn’t give me a date; speak with her if you need more information. I’m going to get some of those cages out of the wagons.”

  She smiled brightly again; her sails having found a fresh wind to bolster them.

  “I’ll do precisely that! Is she still in the cave?”

  I looked in on her and found she was currently kicking the brigand leader’s face. His weak moans indicated that he still lived. The other two men were nowhere in sight, so they had most likely been disposed of already.

  “Armela, finish up and come see Belimra. She’s got some questions for you regarding the night of your capture.”

  Her head whipped around to the drone, then she let out a long breath.

  “Dersio’s fucking taint, Vita! Thought I was about to be stabbed in the back for a moment! Can you give me some warning next time? If I hadn’t already, I’d have fucking pissed myself. I’ll be right there.”

  With that, she stomped the man’s crotch so hard that the stone floor beneath her foot cracked. He wasn’t recovering from that, though he was still technically alive.

  “My dear, I said ‘finish up’ not ‘save him for later.’”

  She stopped at the mouth of the cave and turned around.

  “You didn’t say Finish him, though... Ugh, whatever! Bastard probably would have died before I could get back to him, anyway. FINNNNNEEEE.”

  Returning to the man’s body, she crushed his skull in the same manner as his crotch and then began making her way back up to us.

  “She’s coming to see you now, so you don’t need to worry about heading into the cave. Luckily, she just finished what she was working on!”

  Belimra cocked her head, and I was pretty certain she was about to ask how I could possibly know that, when Armela emerged from the cave entrance. I smirked at her and echoed her words back to her as I walked towards the wagon to unload cages.

  “Idiot or genius?”