“What in all of the Tortured Plains got into you there?” Ike yelled from knee-level. He had risen from his crouch, his scaly face reddening into blazing fire. His eyes, once playful, were now stormy seas of frustration, anger, and a piercing disappointment that was hard to look at. I liked Ike, and that last part burned in a way physical pain never could.

     “I was afraid that we were being sold out. I think. Honestly, I don’t know what the hell got into me,” I stammered, my voice breaking under the weight of his gaze, “and I’m sorry I didn’t just go along with the flow and bow or kowtow or whatever.”

     Hells, Jeldorain laughed, a sound like dark raspy silk that only I could hear. Don’t apologize. What you did was show your power and rage. Now they will all respect you. And that goblin—we all know he was going to betray us. Your actions prevented him from doing that.

     I turned subtly, catching Schustak’s sneering half-smile and the triumphant glimmer in his beady eyes, as his hand caressed the gnarled wood of his staff like a beloved pet. No matter how hard I pondered it, I couldn’t help but think of him as a villain.

     Goblins were liars. Just like in those countless hours spent in front of a glowing screen, playing those online games. Just characters then, but Schustak was real, and right here. I couldn’t let my guard down. A creature like him would never sacrifice his own gains for the well-being of others, despite the facade.

     You are correct. It is gut instinct, Jeldorain purred within my mind. Learn to trust it if you don’t want to be dead.

     The others stood fanned around us like guards before royalty, their faces stone masks, as Ike’s verbal lashing continued—a lyrical, biting tirade that skewered my character and resolve.

     It evoked memories of boot camp, right out of college, the drill sergeants’ barks in my ear, in a world now dimensions away.

     Ike paused, shielding his face, his eye snapping to the slowly descending sun. His face softened, just a little. “Look, we all freak out and make mistakes. But this and you charging the forest shark earlier, that’s the sort of noob stuff that’ll get us all killed. You’ve got a powerful body. That don’t mean you can do anything you want, and not worry about what’ll happen after.”

     He put out his arms and turned to face the rest. “And all of you, time to head out. I wanna be at the forest edge by sunset.”

     I exhaled slowly as I moved to the rear of the group, my boots heavy with shame and uncertainty, craving the solitude that the back of the line offered.

     Do not brood, Jeldorain whispered. Plan.

     I was a foreigner here, in both land and company. Desperate for home, yet embroiled in this uneasy alliance. How could I unmask Schustak without alienating the rest of the people in this party? Ike had welcomed me warmly before; that warmth was now in jeopardy. Whatever I did, I’d have to be passive about it.

     The mournful caw of a crow pulled me from my spiraling thoughts. It cocked its head, black eyes studying me intently from the high branches of an old, gnarled tree.

     “Hey there,” I whispered, a futile attempt at connection. The crow tilted its head the other way before fluttering higher into the branches. A moment shared, yet so fleeting. I flexed my hands, large and clawed, and I sighed.

     Ahead, the rest of the party congregated at the edge of a massive, rolling field of tall grass plains. The sun was dipping lower now, a red orange tinge spilling out into the clouds about it. A river caught its reflection, making it sparkle like a trench filled with fine wine. It was wide and long, and I found myself yearning to feel its waters and see its banks. Something to get me away from my thoughts.

     Between our hill and that river, lay a settlement—no mere collection of huts, but a curious blend of stately and desperate.

     Central to this town, a stone structure dominated, belching thick black smoke into the blue sky. But surrounding it? Chaos. Dwellings cobbled together from rusted metal, twine-bound shields, clay-smeared fabric—desperation incarnate.

     “What is this place?” I asked, my voice a tentative whisper.

     “It was a human city,” Brandosyeus answered, his tone as melodic as a lullaby. “A grand one, or so the tales of those kind say.”

     My eyes met Ike’s; he grinned, revealing a row of sharp teeth. “What you see is Jonat,” he explained, “a mostly human town, shackled by the Empire’s laws. They scavenge to survive. For them, building actual homes is a heavy offense. One that Warg Knights love to take advantage of. So they craft their dwellings with the leavings of the dead, and any garbage they might find along the way.”

     “And the buildings in the center?”

     “Non-humans,” Ike continued. “Dwarvish blacksmiths, an elf’s inn, a mix of caste elites. Not a few goblin families. The mayor of this place, his family, and adventurers to keep things in check. We’ll stop in tomorrow for supplies, but we’ll not be staying the night. Too many eyes watching and ears listening.”

     Kevinar slipped over to Ike, whispering words into his ear. He held up a finger, change rolling through his body like a tremor through sand. “Scratch that. We’re going to be staying at the Inn. It would seem that we have need for Elira Nightshade.” 

     Around us, the rest of the party tensed, as if someone had just cursed loudly during a church sermon.

     “I feel like I’m missing something?” I presented, scratching my big dumb head with the tip of a single deadly talon.

     “She’s a handler,” Ike said, his eyes in the dirt. “And Kevinar has information for her. A secret left to him to deliver when we came this way. Secret words best not heard by the rest of our ears.”

     I resisted looking at Schustak but felt his presence like a storm cloud. How the rest couldn’t feel it, how they could talk such things in front of him mystified me.

     “So what does that all mean?”

     Jon clopped over next to me, pointing out over the city. “It means that tonight we will be staying at that two-story stony building near the center. Near to where the gobbo governor and a few other Empire notables live. Like moving into a beehive and setting up a tent next to the queen.”

     I swallowed and nodded. It meant kowtowing and obeisance. A small ember of anger flared. It was no wonder the people here were up in arms.

     “Any wisdom before we enter?” I asked, my voice tinged with irony. “Given my apparent talent for disruption?”

     “Yes,” Schustak growled, voice dripping with venom, the tip of his staff flaring and drawing all eyes to him like moths to a flame. “The goblins there will expect all of you to be my servants. Do not disappoint.”

     I stared at Schustak, incredulous, the rage building inside me like a storm waiting to unleash its fury. The gall of this goblin was simply unbearable. Yet, when I glanced around, they all watched us as if nothing was out of place.

     Jeldorain’s voice, calm as a serene lake, whispered in my mind. Control. This is part of the game. He has them under his control. It is up to you to break that.

     I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I forced my clawed hands to relax. “Fine,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ll bow and kowtow and do what needs to be done.”

     Schustak smiled, but his eyes remained as cold as ever. “Smart,” he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “This is the way of our world. The sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be here. We respect them in the light, and fight them when no one is watching.”

     Ike stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I understand it. You’ve got the shakes. A case of the nerves. You aren’t from around here and you haven’t had to hide yourself in plain sight like we have. But you’ll get through this,” he whispered, his voice sincere. “It gets easier. Let’s just stay focused on our mission and get the information to Elira. We don’t have to like it, but we have to get it done.”

     The tension among us was thick as swamp mosquitoes as we descended toward the town of Jonat. The setting sun dropped further, painting the sky in shades of deep orange and purple, casting long shadows that seemed to dance and merge with the despair that hung over the settlement like a shroud.

     I tried to imagine being a human here, and I thought of the sharecroppers of the American South. Children wearing potato sacks as clothing, playing with twine cleverly wrapped and tied into the semblance of toys. It was a hard image to ponder.

     But it wasn’t incorrect at all. Things were as I’d imagined as we entered the town. The disparity between the residents was stark and heartbreaking. Human townspeople, their faces marked with weariness and resignation, went about their evening tasks under the watchful eyes of a brutish assembly of monstrous-looking guards. Most of their lot I recognized — muscular and cruel-faced orcs, a beer-bellied and loin-cloth clad ogre, a couple of yellow-skinned hobgoblins — but the cruel-faced purple-skinned lump of lard that lorded over them all, sneering as he walked through them — that was something I had no iota of knowledge on.

     Fortunately, they paid little attention to us. It was near night and we were just another group of strangers passing through their tormented lives. The non-humans, meanwhile, moved with a degree of freedom and authority that made my skin crawl. They stuffed their faces into this group or that, demanding information, coin, or simply bullying for the pleasure of the act. They were the privileged class here, and they knew it.

     We moved through the town in formation, a silent and grim procession. Schustak led the way, his staff held high and his posture radiating arrogant authority. The rest of us fell in line behind him, our expressions neutral but our eyes alert.

     As we marched through the town, I began to understand its structure. It was like an onion. The thick outer layer of misshapen junk pile homes hid another layer of more advanced thatch cottages of the sort you’d see in a medieval movie. Here lived a dirty assortment of the general player races—the elves, dwarves and halflings who would have been heroes in any other world.

     I also began to appreciate the size of the place. It was larger than I’d thought, maybe a thousand beings living here instead of the hundred I expected. Most of them were downtrodden good guys, but as we got closer to our destination, nastier-looking beings became the common people, as did nicer homes. Places of actual timber and design.

     Past those lay the core of the onion, a town square paved over with cobblestone, the grandest of buildings around its square. Ike pointed to the tallest of the buildings, and though by this hour the day had faded enough that everything was silhouettes, I saw a sign well-lit by torches on both sides of it.

     Elira’s Haven, it stated, the graven symbol of a sword on the one side and a shield on the other.

     It stood tall and imposing, two stories high and built solid for defense. I couldn’t imagine why an inn would be constructed in such a way, yet I appreciated that it had been. This place was a poor man’s citadel, and surely it would serve as a great place to hole up if push came to shove.

     We stepped forward to the entrance, a set of large and thick oaken double doors, and we pushed them open, entering the establishment.

     Inside the inn, the atmosphere was a strange mix of tense and welcoming. A myriad of beings sat and ate stew from the common table, while a single private corner table was occupied by what looked to be a glowering quartet of dwarves. Three brute-faced orcs were standing against a wall, singing a shanty and sloshing beer from their mugs as they swayed left and right to the non-existent rhythm of their tune. 

     And through it all swung a trio of human waitresses, their eyes always downcast despite the alertness of their movements, and one quite beautiful elf who’s well-muscled body hinted at her true rebellious profession. She was Elira Nightshade, no doubt about it. As ethereal and graceful as her name suggested, she swung a few mugs and a pot of stew to waiting patrons, then juked her way through the crowded room without touching a single customer. 

     “Well met,” she said, a warm smile on her face, an alert coldness in her eyes. She was clearly a woman accustomed to balancing on a razor’s edge, her every move calculated and precise.

     Ike stepped forward to speak with her, and I noticed a subtle but unmistakable change in her demeanor as she bent down to listen to him. Her posture relaxed slightly, and for a fleeting moment, her eyes softened.

     As Ike and Elira talked in hushed tones, Schustak leaned close to me, his foul breath mingling with his sinister words. “Remember your place here,” he hissed. “We have an audience.”

     I met his gaze steadily, refusing to let him see the storm raging inside me. “And remember yours,” I whispered back, the threat in my voice unmistakable. “A puppet is still just a puppet, no matter how grand its stage.”

     Schustak's eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Ike turned back to us with a determined expression. “We have our mission,” he announced. “Let’s prepare and remember—we are here for a reason. Let’s not forget what that reason is.”

     At a gesture from Elira, Kevinar broke from our pack, and the two headed towards back rooms unknown.