Sim screwed the lid on his metal flask and tucked it away in his coat pocket. There was a soberness to his movements that made me realize that he wasn't drunk. At least not as much as Isla and Castille assumed. His drunkenness was an act. A misdirection.

Typical.

I expected no less from an agent of Sin.

Sim spoke.

"Rugar is camped out on Miller's Hill and, being the arrogant ass that he is, he's making his mercenaries camp out below it. Now, if someone could sneak past his perimeter and his mercenaries, they would find them very alone and very vulnerable."

"And let me guess, someone has done that," Castille said.

Sim grinned, pointing at his face with both thumbs.

"How?" Isla asked.

"I did what I do best. I smuggled."

"Y-You made a tunnel," Dugan corrected.

"Not much else to do out here. I knew you would be coming from the North. I made the educated guess that you would camp somewhere nearby before you made one last push to the capital. That left most of my mornings free for my little side project. It's nearby, and it'll take you right to the top of the Hill."

I nodded.

"Not bad."

Sim smirked.

"Competent enough for you."

"Aye, and I bet you made your tunnel as cramped as possible for me."

"It's not my fault you're so big."

"Tall. What about our wagon?" Castille asked.

"What about it? It's already camouflaged. Leave it here and come back later."

Our party exchanged glances.

Did he not know about the reward money?

That didn't make sense. Sin congratulated me on my victory in her letter. She knew what happened; she just didn't want to give him that information.

That may have been for the best.

A ripple of understanding passed between party members.

Reward money?! What reward money?

Castille gave me a slight nod and then shook her head at Sim.

"That doesn't work, Simon. We need to bring the wagon."

Sim scratched at the patchy blonde scruff on his chin.

"My tunnel isn't big enough for a wagon. One of you could stay behind?"

"No. We're already outnumbered. Let's not make it worse."

I raised a finger.

"I have a bad idea."

All eyes turned to me.

"Rugar's mercenaries let you pass their perimeter, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Sim said.

"Then can you drive our wagon through their checkpoints. We can meet outside the capital after we take care of Rugar and escape his camp."

Sim raised his eyebrows.

"Bold of you to trust me with your valuables."

"Bold... or stupid. Can you give us a minute, Simon?"

He blinked at Castille, not taking the hint.

"Oh! Right. I needed to stretch my legs anyway."

He stood up and walked to the edge of the camp.

We gathered into a huddle.

"I don't want to leave all my belongings with that lowlife," Castille whispered.

"And what about Thor?" Isla asked.

Dugan frowned at that question.

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"I'm not leaving him."

The pack animal grunted in agreement.

"He can barely walk, Dugan, and we can't bring him into battle."

Thor let out a series of low grunts. He bowed his head as if ready to charge.

"There's you're answer. Thor comes with us."

I eyed the boar. The determination in his eyes was disturbingly human.

"Fine. You better keep up."

Thor let out a defiant grunt that made the others laugh.

"OK," Isla said. Do we leave the wagon or go with Jacob's idea and let Sim drive?"

"If he wanted to steal our wagon, he could come back and take it when the fighting starts. At least this way, we know where he's going."

Castille crossed her arms.

"You're assuming he rides back to the capital."

"I thought you trusted him, Castille."

"I said I know him. That's why I DON'T trust him. Especially when he's on his own."

I turned away from the huddle to shout at the mage.

"Sim! What happens if you take our stuff?"

He turned at the sound of his name.

"My employer would probably kill me. She's always looking for a good reason."

I turned back to Castille.

"We don't have to trust him. We can trust his employer's love of violence."

Castille snorted.

"You're childhood must have been fun."

I flashed a bitter smile.

"You have no idea."

# # #

We spent the rest of the hour working out our plan before going to bed. We took shifts to keep one eye on the camp and the other on Sim. The smuggler made a bed out of soft dirt and used his hat as a pillow.

When morning came, we ate a quick breakfast and travelled to the entrance of Sim's tunnel. It was an unassuming patch of grass in a clearing of trees. Nothing stood out about the area except for a jagged boulder erected in the middle.

Like the red seal on the letter, a hawk's talon was carved in its rough surface.

From the broken driver's bench of the wagon, Sim swept his hand over the clearing.

"And here it is."

"Where's the hole?" Dugan asked.

"I bet that's not the first time you've asked that," Sim said.

He jumped off the wagon, walking into the middle of the clearing and pressing his palm against the grey stone. The boulder slid like a pebble over a frozen pond, revealing a gaping hole underneath.

"How's that for a hole?"

"Can we stop talking about holes and focus?" I asked, walking forward to lean over the tunnel's opening.

I was met with a pitch black abyss.

Spirits below!

I took a shuddering breath.

Again, Cynthia's gentle hand rested on my shoulder, this time accompanied by the smell of the fresh-cut flowers she would leave in my room.

Not good.

My delusions were getting stronger.

Light footfalls padded beside me. I glanced up at Castille.

She had her hands on her hips, one foot forward as she squinted into the darkness below. She nodded to herself.

"Alright, let's get ready."

Our party sorted through our wagon of supplies, preparing for our ambush on Rugar. Isla set aside food, water and lanterns. Dugan knocked off the metal head of his axe, growing a ball of snaking vines on one end to create a bulbous wooden club. Castille changed out of her old, dented breastplate and into a black gambeson that fell just above her knees. The silver horns of a stag were embroidered over the wearer's heart.

That must be her old uniform.

While the party prepared, Thor rested, and Sim watched with mild curiosity. I removed my golden belt sash and weighed whether or not to bring my cane.

We didn't know Rugar's Landbound ability, but it was safe to assume it involved metal. When we fought, our metal armour and weapons would be turned against us. Yet, the idea of leaving my cane in the wagon filled me with panic. Isla had the same feelings about her sceptre.

After twenty minutes, we assembled in front of the hole. Sim hitched the party's horses to the back of the wagon and returned to his seat on the driver's bench.

He raised his flask.

"Are you sure you don't want to some?"

"We're good," I said.

"You're loss... Remember what I told you about travelling underground. It's worse near the capital. Be safe."

"We will. Thank you," Isla said.

Sim paused.

"That's the first time someone told me thank you in years."

He grinned, his gold tooth glittering in the morning sun.

"You guys are alright."

He snapped on the lines, bringing the wagon to a slow roll.

We watched as it disappeared among the trunks and branches of the forest.

Castille sighed.

"No turning back now. Isla..."

"Right."

Isla used Elmer's spark wheel to ignite four lanterns, handing one out to each of us.

We turned away from the surrounding forest to stare down at the yawning hole.

"Who wants to go first?" Castille asked.

"I'll go," I said.

Castille nodded and gestured me forward.

I took one last deep breath and stepped into the opening.

My feet found steps of hard-packed earth that spiralled down into the tunnel proper. Wet moss assaulted my nose. Insects fled from the orange glow of my lantern light. After a few moments, the leather soles of my boots clacked against a stone floor.

I raised my lantern.

The tunnel was shaped like an archway, with smooth dark stone reinforcing the top and sides. It was tall and wide enough to fit an average person. Something Castille and Dugan were not.

"Jacob, how does it look?" Castille asked.

"We're clear, but it's a tight fit."

I paused and then groaned.

Now I was doing it.

Laughter from Castille and Dugan echoed above.

"Hey, what's so funny?" Isla asked.

My face flushed.

This was going to be a long walk.

# # #

We marched forward in a single line with me leading from the front. Behind me, Castille shuffled forward with a hunched back, muttering curses under her breath. I thrust my lantern forward into the darkness, moving as fast as I dared. The tunnel wasn't straight; it snaked from left to right, avoiding large tree roots and other obstacles ahead. It was impressive. Walking the tunnel's gradual curves was mesmerizing, but making those curves was another level of difficulty.

Castille may have known Slippery Sim as a petty smuggler, but under Sin, he had become something more. I experienced a similar transformation, from a scared orphan to someone who fought immortal kings and Dahlgeshi mages.

Was it worth everything she put me through?

I didn't know.

I walked away from the path of Sin—from certainty. Now, my life was like this tunnel, groping in the dark, only able to see a few feet in front of me.

I chuckled to myself.

At least I had company.

# # #

We walked for an eternity and then another.

"How much longer, you think?" Castille asked, irritation tinging her voice.

"Ten minutes—Twenty," Isla said.

"Don't think about it. You're only making it worse."

"Worse. WoRsE. WORSE."

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Castille asked.

I paused as something or someone blocked our way.

It was a man kneeling just outside the lantern light.

I stepped closer.

He was shirtless, battered and bruised, with blood smeared all over his pale skin.

Spirits below.

As if hearing my thoughts, his head jerked up, and his wild brown eyes met mine.

"Uh, hello?"

The man's lips peeled back into a snarl, and he lunged forward in a charge.

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