Zutiria is shaken. Her knees buckle, and she leans over on her staff to prop herself up from falling over. Her breathing speeds up. Her hands tremble. ‘Who... who... are you...?!’ She asks, gritting her chattering teeth.

“Oh, me?” The Halfling hops up onto the table and casually sits down. “I’m no big deal... you know, just a literal God. Either of you ever heard of Fleetfoot before? No? C’mon. Surely you must’ve read a book on Halfling folklore before, right, smartypants?”

Without meaning to, I laugh. A lot. Much more than I should, considering the situation. Even despite her shift in mood, Zutiria turns to give me an odd look. “Wh-what the hell is so funny, huh?!” The enemy stands up, stomping their foot on the table.

Raising an eyebrow at the ‘God’, I say, “You’ll have to forgive me. I just didn’t know I’d be meeting two Gods in a single day.”

After a brief pause, Fleetfoot asks, “The fuck? Are you being sarcastic?”

“That depends. Pray tell, what sort of God needs a magic ring to turn themselves invisible, or a mask to intimidate others?”

“...This one!” The rogue angrily points at themself. “Geez. Do you even get what kinda position you’re in? You realize I could kill you both at any second, right?” Reaching behind their back, Fleetfoot unsheaths what looks like a glowing, luxuriously crafted butterknife and points it towards us. It shimmers and blinks, creating ten magical copies of itself that hover in the air overhead.

I really shouldn’t have laughed at them just because they’re full of shit, but make no mistake- this enemy is no God.

‘They’re right, Sir... I... I don’t think I can... fight... like... t-this...’ The Mage shivers, her face gone pale as chalk and her brow riddled with anxious sweat.

With a sick laugh, the rogue starts twirling the knife around their fingers before almost dropping it. “Shit- er...” Fleetfoot coughs, their attempt at menacing behavior failing entirely. They decide to distract from this blunder by upping the ante. “Anyway... before I kill you, wanna hear about that time your little purple girlfriend there killed her entire village?”

“NO!” Zutiria shouts so hard that it tears her throat. “D-DON’T SAY AN... ANY... TH...” She falls to her knees, coughing and hacking. Her grip on her staff loosens, and it hits the ground with a clang, all as the poor, unhinged Mage begins scratching her throat hard enough to leave deep marks. “STOP!” Dark energy pulses around her body, threatening to burst out if things escalate any further.

“ZUTIRIA!” I kneel and cradle my lover to try and calm the Mage’s nerves. Putting my brain into overdrive, I start thinking of some way to get us both out of this situation. My first thought is, where is in the Eternal Hells is Nikita? She said she could sense conflict if something happened, but... ah. That’s right. She said she would go get Pinemen for us, so she would’ve had to have left town through the east gate.

Shit.

I don’t have any way to attack the rogue, not while Zutiria is in such a critical state. Not that an untrained civilian like myself would likely do much damage in the first place. No, I only see one option to come out on top here, and it’s a hell of a stretch... but... there’s no other shot but to go for it. It depends on Zutiria picking up on my cues, her feeling stable enough to act on them, and me distracting this odd, show-offy intruder.

“Damn! I knew that’d get a reaction, but someone sure is touchy.” Fleetfoot cackles. My rage flares at how she’s treating Zutiria, but I fight back against myself, knowing full well if I lose composure, then our one and only chance will be wasted.

“How do you know so much about her?” I ask, “Don’t tell me you’re the leader of those shadowy rogues who’ve been following us around?”

“Oh, see? You ARE a smarty! That’s me. I used my p...” Fleetfoot grunts and shake their head, disappointed they were about to slip up. “I mean, I sent my men to do some digging, and I found out pretty much all there is to know about you and all those chicks of yours... well, most of them, anyway. Couldn’t find much about that Doctor, but hey, nobody’s perfect.” Says the alleged God.

“All of us? Even Nikita?” I start tapping Zutiria’s back hard with my thumb as soon as I say the Grekkan’s name. Zutiria trembles in response, but the intruder does nothing since they can’t see my attempt to clue the Mage in.

“Who? ...Oh, that mercenary-” I keep thumbing at Zutiria’s back as soon as the word ‘mercenary’ is said. “Yeah, I got some intel on her. No big deal, my team is pretty great like that.” Seems like I was correct. It’s not going to be too hard to stall out this conversation as long as I need to.

“So, you’re with the Duke of Dewhurst, then... Damn, Nikita-” tap tap tap, “is supposed to protect us from the likes of you! If ONLY she were here right NOW!”

Zutiria takes a deep breath and carefully looks over her shoulder to send me a secret message that the Halfling won’t be able to read. ‘I... I contacted Nikita with telepathy, Sir. K-Keep them talking...’ The Mage bites her lip and closes her eyes, the stress and trauma continuing to bubble within her.

Perfect. Now to stall for time...

The Halfling laughs and brandishes their butterknife once again, aiming all of its floating copies at us. “Well, too bad because she can’t save you. I was waiting for her to step out of town like this!”

“Curses,” I utter a generic response while acting as upset as I can. “You’ve really outplayed me here...”

“I know, right?” They laugh like an arrogant buffoon. “By the way, as far as the ‘Duke’ goes... yeah, you could say I run with him. Honestly, I got a real cushy job these days, and I don’t wanna lose it. Thought it’d be best to take action into my own hands and take you out before becoming a threat. Sucks to be you, but hey, just be lucky I’m the one giving you a mercy kill and not the butcher. He’s working on Abner right about now...”

The butcher? I knew it... I was wondering how this whole conflict started, but now I think I have the answer. “Bludman is killing the mayor?”

“Duke’s orders. He didn’t like that you were getting local quests again,” The Halfling shrugs.

I throw out whatever distracting bullshit I can come up with, resulting in me saying, “Where are your men? Why see to my demise personally, have I done something to offend you?”

“They’re... busy,” The rogue looks away. “And nah, this is just business. Nothing personal, you seem ok enough to me, Mate. I’m just trying to make a living.”

“Damn, I had no idea that this could’ve happened... I drastically underestimated the Duke’s forces. I had no idea that someone as skilled as you were in his employ, Fleetfoot.” Despite my shaky acting, this seems to please the rogue. They puff out their chest with pride.

“Yeah, well...” The rogue continues gloating. “You were just unlucky enough to piss off the wrong guy, so now I gotta do something about it.” After finally pulling themselves out of their self-aggrandizing, the magical knives shimmer in the air as they ready themselves to launch at the rogue’s command. “Any last words? Go on, I’ll wait.”

It takes everything I have in me not to shake my head in disbelief that this fool is actually giving me time to stall entirely of their own volition.

“I have a few things I’d like to say if you really don’t mind listening...” I bite my lip and awkwardly hug Zutiria, who, despite being in a powerless and traumatized state, still has the mental acuity to look on at my terrible acting with disdain.

“Eh, why not? I got time.” They sit down at the table they’re standing at and make the floating knives disappear. Mentally, I am stunned at this level of ineptitude.

I take in a deep breath and prepare myself for a lengthy spiel, “It all started when I was a boy. I was raised by my Grandpa, you see- which you no doubt know about if you’ve really done your research-”

“Yup, where are you going with this?” Their voice grows suspicious, causing my heart rate to skyrocket. “I already know all about your tragic backstory, Mate. I don’t need a refresher.”

“Just trust me. These are my last words, remember? I want them to mean something, so I need you to allow me to speak, even if it sounds like I’m rambling. Please.”

Fleetfoot considers this for a moment before eventually saying, “Fair enough.” Thank the Gods, I was worried that they might’ve actually caught on to my scheme.

For the next couple of minutes, I give a lengthy diatribe about my childhood woes and my struggles through life. I chatter about how upset I am that my death will have amounted to nothing and how I wanted to reach so much higher. While it’s not like I can see their face, I’m almost positive that the enemy starts feeling sympathetic for me at a few points during my speech- despite how much I’m overselling it.

“And then?” Fleetfoot asks as I reach the end of my improvisational rope, their magically-filtered voice laden with obvious interest.

“And then you came along to end it all,” I sigh for as long as I can stretch one out. “Woe is me.”

“Huh. Well, that kinda sucks... it’d be a pretty shitty end to your story if I killed you right now,” After a few moments of contemplation, they say, “I’m still gonna do it, though.”

“I’m aware,” Nodding my head, I move on and ask, “What about you? What led you to this moment in time where you’re seconds away from killing my lovely Mage and me?”

“Putting me aside for a sec, I gotta say that she ain’t that lovely, Mate...” Fleetfoot laughs. “Haven’t you ever asked her the real reason she was up in that tower for all those years?”

Zutiria responds to this by crying and coughing again. She whimpers out loud, “S... Shut... up...”

I hug her tighter to calm her as best I can. “Zutiria, don’t try and speak-”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Fleetfoot continues their overconfident laughter. “Kill me like you killed your fam-”

The Guild gains another hole in it as the nearest wall to Fleetfoot bursts open wide due to an enormous, unexpected impact. As splinters fly about, a pineman sails through the air from out of the dust. After using the still-living monster as a battering ram, Nikita throws the sentient tree straight into Fleetfoot’s face.

It hits the rogue with such explosive force that the poor thing explodes into a mess of wood, nettle, splinters, and pinecones. The halfling barrels across the entrance hall, creating yet another fucking hole upon crashing into the opposite wall. “Hey, half-pint! Why don’t you make like a tree and-”

“Nikita. Not the time.”

Nikita pauses her abysmal pun once she gets a better look at Zutiria. “Oh, shit... give me a sec, Chief,” The Grekkan steps through the hole in the wall that her pineman toss created and cracks her knuckles. “You better get out of here while you still can.” She warns, breaking out her most intimidating voice.

“W-Why? Agh- fuck...!” Fleetfoot pulls themself out of the crater they made and holds onto their mask. While not broken, it has a noticeable crack in it. This damage doesn’t mean all that much since I still can’t look directly at the mask. “I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna kill me...”

“Sounds like you’ve done your homework!” Nikita gives the enemy an oddly friendly smile, which makes me think she must just always be this casual. “True, I’m not going to kill you. I... don’t like fighting anymore... but hey, breaking every bone in your body wouldn’t kill you if I did it the right way.”

“You’re... you’re bluffing!” Fleetfoot angrily clasps their mask in their hand while Nikita continues to smile. The Grekkan takes a single step forward, which proves all it takes to get the Halfling to shout, “SHIT SHIT SHIT!” and put back on their ring of invisibility out of fear.

“You haven’t seen the last of me!” Fleetfoot warns, their voice sounding farther and farther away by the word. I suppose Halflings are fast, but... this is an impressive display of cowardice, to be sure.

After confirming that the enemy is no longer present, Nikita rushes to my side to check up on both of us. “Chief, Zuzu, you guys alright?”

“I’m fine, she’s-”

‘I... I want to be alone...’ Zutiria pulls off her beret and hides her face in it. The dark aura that was surrounding the Mage until now finally dissolves. Her anxiety only worsens as she says, ‘I’m sorry, Sir. I never wanted you to find out. I lied to you... I lied to Sammy... I... I can’t-’

“Gods...” Nikita stands, clearly shaken at seeing her friend in such a sorry state. “Stay here. I’m going to go get Opal. Don’t worry, I’ll be close enough to sense them if they return, and it won’t take me nearly as long to get back if I have to.”

“Thank you. I’ll take care of Zutiria...” Something tells me we don’t have to worry about Fleetfoot coming back, but it’s only a hunch.

Nikita turns to leave but pauses and eventually looks over her shoulder. “...Chief. You aren’t going to take this lying down, are you?”

“No, Nikita. No, I’m not.” Whether Fleetfoot themselves is a legitimate threat remains vague due to how horribly they bungled their attempt on my life. Still, the fact remains that there was an attempt on my life, period. “The Duke of Dewhurst is going to pay for this.”

The Grekkan stares me down in silent appraisal. After sufficiently judging my worth, she smirks, “Hmph. That’s what I like to see.” She pumps her bicep at me in approval before running away to fetch Opalina.

Now alone with a sorceress who refuses to leave the comfort of her beret, I sigh and hold Zutiria tight. The Mage doesn’t hug me back, but that’s ok. As I nuzzle against her and do everything I can to comfort her, I find myself silently asking... could this day get any fucking worse?