There was a secret meeting in this conference room. Not so secret that its main guest, Castien Brielwa, would not check it into his itinerary, but secret enough that the other guests checked into the facility via obvious fake names with fake IDs. Amelia knew all this from her incorporation of the data server golem, but beyond that she had no idea what to expect.

Based on the logs that she retained, this Castien person had done this type of conference several times over the last few years, bringing over people whose existences were dubious at best for officially planned meetings. Was it because this facility was such an obscure part of North Sunwell’s whole operations that he could get away with it? Or was it something more?

She and Hummer would find out extremely soon, because the conference room doors were wide open, and several voices chatted about in the distance.

They entered slowly, quietly.

The conference room was actually a lecture hall, with rows of seats in a semi-circle, each row lower than the last until it reached the arena-like center at the bottom, with just a blackboard and a lectern.

A large number of golems were situated around the scene, some clay, some stone, and some conglomerates of various substances. They stood at different levels in the rows, providing a good amount of protection from all directions. The first row, though, was empty, and so Amelia and Hummer were able to find a chair to duck behind safely.

Amelia was not particularly good at sneaking around. She would admit that much, because in her line of revenge seeking, it was not often warranted. Here, though, was a special situation.

Hummer looked around at the golems and whispered, “We are WAY in over our heads, Amelia!”

“Just listen to the meeting.”

“Fine.”

They peeked their heads over the chair from their hidden vantage point and looked to the bottom of the conference room, where the people in the hall were all gathered. All parties involved were surrounded by a layer of stone golems, and most of the people involved were blocked from view.

All Amelia could see was one elven man, one orcish man, and a felid of muscular, but androgynous build and voice. There were others in the conversation, but the best she could see was of their feet. No fauns or centaurs, if that meant anything.

The elf began to speak, and Amelia immediately registered him as Castien. There was no one else it could be, with the sharp, tight-cut suit, glasses, and slicked-back hair. He looked every part the picture of an unimportant player, which was exactly his intention. “Synth production’s up by fifty percent this month,” he said to the felid. “That’s not good for supply. Keep half in storage, and we can use it later.”

“But demand is so high,” the felid said, twitching their tail. “We should capitalize on it.”

“And that’s why you leave these kinds of decisions to me, alright?” Castien paced around the felid condescendingly. “Fourland is doing great at its current pace. But it does not have the dealers, the warehouses for what’s been produced so far. If we shipped all of it, it would mean prices go down to move it faster. Potential customers go up, but then they are all used up while the prices are still low. In the long run, it will cause nothing but profit loss.”

The felid said nothing, acting in deference to Castien’s words.

“And how does that affect us?” someone from the orc’s side asked.

The orc looked at them and waved them away. “Don’t worry, Mr. Brielwa. We’re just fine. As long as they keep out of our territory, we’ll let them do their thing for now.” Then he moved in closer to the accountant. “But we do ask, perhaps you leave some of Fleettwixt alive by the end of this?”

“If you are questioning the moral conundrum of generating revenue for Fleet’s Pride with Fourland’s drugs, then you are not in the right business, Borguk.” Castien smiled as if he told a rather funny joke. No one else responded in kind.

Good to know the orc’s name. Borguk.

Actually, the closer Amelia looked at him, the more ambiguous his features became. His pointed ears were prominent, his height was significant, and he retained his tusks, but his jaw, his hair... he looked half-human, or perhaps half-elf. His blemish-free face and thin jaw looked far too young to be involved in this kind of situation. But perhaps his appearance was by design, just like Castien’s. He was handsome to the point that Amelia would commend him. Attractive to women and men of all races, and he knew it, yet hiding a hint of brutality under that casual demeanor.

“I’ll comply with whatever builds us,” Borguk said.

“Good,” Castien replied. “Then that brings us to our next matter, which is Fleet’s Pride’s next order of golems. We have fifty brand-new granite golems, plucked right off the factory line, ready to sell to you. They have a built-in self-destruct feature, which you can activate with the flick of a special talisman. Sounds far up your realm of interest, does it not? Can we say, two bags of synth per golem? The usual price?”

“No need,” Borguk said. “Not that many, and not for that price. We’ve got more than enough with Gawain on our team. She’s been quite cooperative lately.”

Castien waved the discussion away. “Alright. Half price. One bag per golem.”

Borguk paused for a moment. “Sure. Now I know you’ve been fleecing us this whole time, but sure.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Castien said with another smile.

The felid from Fourland butted back into the conversation. “I’m very concerned with working with Fleet’s Pride,” they said, their tone shaky. “Fourland’s relationship with the North Sunwell Company is extremely strong, and if they discover our connections to rebel forces, they will dest—it may not have positive consequences, I fear.”

“You’re always such a worry-wart, Furie,” Castien said. “I am the nexus of all three groups, and I am well-versed in North Sunwell’s dealings. Nothing happens that does not go through me in some way. I can assure you that no harm will ever come to you, or to the rebels for that matter. And if I am predisposed, my associate here is similarly equipped to handle every concern.” He gestured to some other figure who was obscured from Amelia’s view.

Fleet’s Pride, Fourland, North Sunwell... Three groups, all connected by this Castien man, and by the crimes of exploitation. A mystery was beginning to unravel that Amelia had only the faintest idea about.

Despite Castien’s reassurances, this Furie person was still beyond worried. “You and she may be high up in North Sunwell, but you are not all-powerful. I can’t feel safe with just that. You haven’t done a lick of work to protect our employees from that mysterious group that keeps targeting us. Did you know, just last week, one of our warehouses was—”

The conference room shook violently for a few seconds, knocking Furie on their ass.

Amelia’s explosion, right on time. The whole facility was about to collapse.

“What the hell was that?” they shouted. “That’s the third rumble in the last thirty minutes.”

All eyes turned to the orc.

“What?” Borguk asked.

“Was that you?” Castien asked. “Some new bombs you’re testing?”

He shook his head.

“Then something is very wrong.” Castien motioned, and the stone golems surrounding the group turned around and began to walk up the stairs to the top row of the conference room. They were making a defensive formation around the room that would further protect against any intrusion—and in just seconds, expose Amelia and Hummer right where they were hiding.

“Shit!” Hummer barely whispered.

“They’ll be open. I’m attacking.”

“What? No! Don’t do that!” Her whisper was now at the absolute threshold of simply yelling.

“We have weapons. Let’s use them.”

And with that, Amelia sprang to her feet and took ahold of all four of her remaining throwing knives. As soon as she got a view of the scene, as soon as she saw her targets, she would throw.

Right at that moment, she saw it:

Castien, locking eyes with her.

Borguk and two others with Fleet’s Pride.

Furie and another Fourland executive.

There were others in the scene, but they were not relevant. Not her choices to kill. Six targets and four knives.

She threw all her knives at once, two volleys with both hands, and they flung down to the group at lightning speed, with perfect precision.

One right in the skull of Furie, who died with a look of shock on their face. Next to them, the other Fourland executive had a knife planted deep in his throat. Neither of them even realized that any danger had come to them before they were already dead.

Castien narrowly dodged his with a side-step and it plunged into the back of some unsuspecting yellow-haired woman behind him, right next to a red-head and a hairless goblin.

Then, Borguk looked at the knife hurtling his way—

Caught it—

And tossed it right back her way.

Still in the air, she had no room to dodge, no way to gracefully avoid her own demise. One millisecond from now and she would be just like the Fourland people—

So she let herself crash land on the floor with a painful thud, the knife grazing past her head and cutting off some of its rock.

Hummer helped her up and then got up herself, ready to bolt out of here. The golems, halfway up the steps, had already assumed combat positions and the first rock-hurtling attacks were already in mid-flight.

Amelia ducked again and dodged the sizable chunks coming her way.

Before anything else, before even the whole group had turned its attention to Amelia, Borguk was already pointing a fierce finger into Castien’s chest.

“This was a trap!” he shouted. “I knew it! Fourland will pay for its idiocy.”

Hummer tugged at Amelia’s jacket, begging for her to go, but something caught her eye and forced her to stand still while the next volley of rocks made their way towards them. She was unsure of what it might be, except that her eye must have been working faster than her mind.

Only about ten seconds had passed since she threw down those knives. Time slowed to an almost imperceptible rate, where each moment in time froze in place and sunk in before it allowed itself to move again.

Her mind finally registered what her eyes had already confirmed. The rest of the figures in the group had turned to face Amelia and the golems’ assault against her.

Including one red-haired, glasses-wearing half-elf woman.

Ed.

They locked eyes.

Those dull gray eyes that gazed on hers inquisitively.

And then...

Amelia turned around with Hummer and took off running before the golems could make it up the steps.

---

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