Their departure from the mine was a bloody but simple affair. After harvesting the monsters’ corpses for evidence of their slaughter, the trio left, eager to breathe fresh air untainted by the blood of monsters and men.

  Of course, before they could actually leave, there was one fairly important bit of affairs to hash out.

  “So what are we doing about the weapons?” Syra asked them straight up as Rayne was cutting off the tail of a kobold.

  Jerking his hand straight up, Rayne nearly cut himself, and he swore lightly as he re-oriented the knife to make the cut again, all the while considering Syra’s question in his mind.

  “The way I see it, we have two options,” he replied after a few seconds. “Option one: we leave it as is and pretend we didn’t see it. We saw nothing, found nothing, and did nothing outside our mission objectives. There were no weapon caches inside that silver mine.”

  Syra nodded, an action not mirrored by Leon who looked troubled as he waited for Rayne to continue, which he did while raising two fingers.

  “Option two is the same as option one, but we report this to the authorities once we get back to Torid. No matter what we choose, it’s critical that we don’t let the baron know what we found. If he’s innocent, the investigators dispatched by the crown will let him go. If he’s guilty and finds out we know, then he’s going to do everything in his power to stop us from returning to Torid.”

  “You think he’ll kill us?” Syra looked slightly perturbed by this, and Rayne nodded heavily.

  “The punishment for treason is hanging. The punishment for nobles who commit treason is internal immolation. So yes, I would imagine he’ll try to kill us in order to save his own hide.”

  Syra’s eyes went wide. “Internal immolation?”

  “It’s where they stick flame crystals inside you and then activate them one at a time until they burn through your flesh and organs and fall out of you.” Rayne shook his head. “It’s reserved for those who have betrayed the crown’s trust. The reason it’s so harsh is to make sure that no one will ever want to betray them.”

  “My parents had a friend who suffered that fate,” Leon cut in, his expression dark. “General Breelicus. He lost a major battle to Arstovian treachery and thirty-thousand soldiers died as a result. Faced with such a loss he was scapegoated by the nobles serving under him and accused of treason. He was charged as a traitor to the crown without even a proper trial, instead used as cautionary warning to the high command. The execution was presented before many of the noble families in the west, all of us forced to watch as they subjected him to the greatest disgrace a noble can face.”

  His hands were balled into fists, and he seemed genuinely angry as he recalled the incident. “I still remember the day. A war hero dead, a family stripped of their rank, all because we were losing a war.”

  Lifting an eyebrow, Rayne was tempted to comment on it, but then decided against it. “Either way, if the good baron is actually engaged in treason, then we must absolutely keep what we’ve found a secret until we return to Torid. The only real decision is whether or not we should go to the authorities with our discovery or not.”

  “We have to,” Leon asserted immediately. “It is the duty of all Vanothian citizens to ensure that the kingdom’s laws are upheld. Although I still harbor my doubts as to Baron Wilcoup’s guilt in this matter, it is not for us to decide. A proper investigation and trial will take place, reporting it is our duty. Especially if the monsters really did make off with more weapons than what we saw here. If that really is the case, then this has become bigger than mere treason.”

  The phrase ‘mere treason’ did not sound quite right to Rayne, but he understood Leon’s sentiment. Monsters did not tend to have high quality weapons. If hundreds of goblins, kobolds, banivs, and more poured from the wilderness into Vanothian settlements carrying proper armaments, the death toll could easily mount into the thousands.

  With that in mind, it seemed like their decision was made. “So we’re going to report it, then?” Rayne asked, just to be sure.

  When both his companions responded in the affirmative, he nodded. Thankfully, it seemed that they were all on the same page.

  Their conversation finished, they hastened to finish harvesting the monster parts and exit the mine. On the way out, Rayne checked the hidden weapon cache once more, ensuring that it was just as well camouflaged as they had found it. A bit of dirt applied to the tracks to hide where the door had opened, one last push to check that it was snug, and he was satisfied.

  It was late when they arrived back at the baron’s estate, but they were immediately ushered inside by a pair of alert and very muscular servants to the baron’s study.

  “You’re back!” Wilcoup greeted them, his eyes roving across their bodies and taking in their various wounds as he did.

  Rayne wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he sensed a slight element of surprise within the man’s tone.

  “I trust that everything went well?”

  “It did,” Rayne confirmed before shaking his head. “But there were more monsters than expected. We will be wanting a larger reward as a result.”

  “Of course.” The baron’s smile did not falter in the slightest as Rayne extorted him. “But the mine, it’s secure?”

  Giving him a small bow, Rayne clasped one hand to his chest. “We have eliminated all monsters that lurked within the mine. Your men may now return to retrieve the corpses of those who perished, baron.”

  “Right, right, the corpses.” Wilcoup nodded, but his tone sounded rather insincere, at least to Rayne’s ears.

  Then again, every noble sounded insincere to him.

  “—well,” the baron was saying, “I suppose I had better pay you. Thank you again for taking on this special commission. It’s imperative for the future of our fief that that mine be operational.”

  Rayne nodded. “It’s always a pleasure working for those with integrity such as yourself. Please call upon us any time you have trouble with monsters.”

  “Of course.” Turning, Baron Wilcoup gestured to one of his servants. “Tinner, kindly fetch these adventurers their just reward.” With a smile, he looked back at them. “Tinner will be along shortly with your coin. I’m afraid that I must retire now to begin overseeing the reclamation efforts. But thank you again for your assistance today.”

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  Leon bowed as the baron left, an action that Rayne forced himself to mimic, and he gestured at Syra to follow suit. Much as it galled him to act servile before the baron, there was no benefit in rebellion. Right now, they needed to get their coin, and then get as far away as possible before reporting Baron Wilcoup to the authorities. And so he plastered a phony smile upon his face and bowed low, then acted delighted when the steward returned with three fat purses full of silver. Then they were off, leaving the baron’s estate behind as they climbed into the waiting carriage that would take them back to Torid.

  They talked little on the carriage ride, all of them far too tired to engage in frivolous conversation, and unwilling to let the coachman overhear anything sensitive. Instead, they slept, the wooden benches surprisingly comfortable after a long day’s adventuring.

  When Rayne awoke, they were slowing to a halt at the gates of Torid, and the three of them thanked the carriage driver before climbing out. As the carriage rolled away, they looked at each other, then up at the moon which had by now climbed high in the sky to rest among the stars.

  “Report him in the morning?” Syra asked, her eyes bleary with sleep.

  Rayne attempted to formulate a response, but all that came out was a half-formed, “Bwah.”

  Somehow, he made it back home safely, though he had no memory of walking through the Dregs or opening his front door. He did remember Issa locking it behind him, and her look of worry, but not the question she had asked him. Something about safety?

  He had a niggling suspicion that the two swords at his hip were the only reason he had not been mugged on his journey home, but even that suspicion disappeared as soon as he saw his bed, so fluffy and inviting despite its hard frame and moth-eaten blankets.

  Then oblivion.

  ~

  Sunlight crept through the dirty glass window pane that served as the entirety of his bedroom window, a small slice of it falling across his face and causing Rayne to wrinkle his eyes in an attempt to return to darkness. It did not work, however, and an attempt to throw his blanket over his eyes did nothing either. He was too awake, and with a disgruntled noise, he threw off the blankets, the realization that he was still fully dressed hitting a moment later.

  Looking out the window, he realized that it was past noon, which meant he had slept for… Rayne shook his head. He had no idea what time he had gotten home, or what time it was now. The sunlight shining through his window seemed to imply it was past one, but that left a rather large range of possible times. All he knew was that he had slept for a good while, and in his clothes at that.

  Speaking of which… Lifting one arm over his head, Rayne took an experimental sniff, then immediately lowered the arm. He wanted to gag, but instead he peeled off his clothes, tossing them in a pile that would be brought to the cleaners later as he headed for the bath. A short while later, a much improved looking and smelling Rayne headed back for his room, where he retrieved fresh clothes and then headed downstairs.

  Issa was at the table when he arrived, and she looked up with a worried frown.

  “How’re you feeling?” she asked.

  “Better than yesterday, I’ll tell you that,” Rayne replied.

  This seemed to give her some solace, but she still had a concerned look, so he plastered a smile on his face and looked at her as he rooted through the cupboards for one of their few bowls. He found it after a moment, then closed the cupboard quickly to avoid the rusty hinge from squeaking too loudly as he put the kettle on to prepare a small bowl of oatmeal.

  “How bad was I?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so tired,” Issa told him. “Not since you were taking your second-year exams at the Academy and had to pull two consecutive all-nighters at least.”

  Rayne winced as he grabbed the oats from their position beside the sink. “That bad?”

  “If it wasn’t for the lack of blood and thirst for brains, I’d have thought you were a zombie.”

  He chuckled at this, then decided to change the subject. “You made it home fine yesterday?”

  His sister nodded. “There was a brawl between two of the beggar gangs that got out of hand. Because of that, the guard had to go in, and I tagged along behind them. If that hadn’t happened, I would’ve waited for Old Ben like usual.”

  Rayne raised a brow as he removed the kettle from its heating element, the ancient flame crystals sputtering lightly as the kettle was lifted off of them. “The beggars were fighting?”

  “Unfortunately.” Issa sighed. “From what I heard, they’ve been having territory disputes. The Council has ordered the guard to be much more active in kicking them out of the Old Quarter and the Artisan’s District, which means that they’re forced to share space in the market and other places around the city. As a result, there’s been some… friction.”

  “Nobles,” Rayne muttered. Placing his bowl on the table, he watched the steam rise off its contents. “It always comes back to nobles. Those bastards.”

  Now it was Issa’s turn to raise a brow, and she stared at him, obviously waiting for him to continue. When he did not, she quirked her lips. “So what was the job you had to run off to yesterday?”

  “We got a special commission from a noble,” Rayne responded.

  When she did not reply, but instead gave him a look that said continue, he launched into the tale of their special request. Briefly, he flirted with the idea of not telling her about the weapons cache, but he immediately dismissed it. Not only was it an important context for why he spoke of Baron Wilcoup in such disparaging terms, but his sister was smart. Perhaps she could give him perspective on what they should do.

  “He’s amassing weapons?” Issa’s jaw hung open. “Doesn’t he know how illegal that is? He’ll be burnt for treason if the crown finds out!”

  “I’d imagine that’s why he’s hiding them within a remote mine,” Rayne told her dryly.

  Issa waved him off. “Are you sure that the number of weapons present exceeded the allowed amount? Each noble is given permission to retain and outfit a personal retinue, not to exceed twenty men, and border nobles can have up to fifty in addition to any household knights they might retain. If what you found could only arm that many—”

  She trailed off as Rayne shook his head. “There were hundreds of weapons in there. Even if he was arming each man with a sword, spear, and a bow with arrows, he could have armed at least a hundred from that cache alone.”

  “And you suspect there were more.” Issa shook her head. “You have to report him, Rayne. If word gets out that you discovered this and stayed silent, you’ll be considered guilty by association.”

  “I know.” Plunging his spoon into the oatmeal, Rayne suddenly found that he was not hungry, a notion his stomach protested vigorously. Forcing a smile, he looked up at his sister. “Huh, turns out that talk of treason spoils my appetite.”

  She did not laugh, and he groaned.

  “I’m serious, Rayne. You have to report him.”

  “I know. I know!” he growled. “It’s just…” He grew tense as the real reason for his hesitation came to light. “What if he comes after us? It doesn’t take a genius to realize who could have tipped off the crown to his hidden weapon stockpile. Even if he’s been accused of treason, there will still be a trial, which gives him time to act. And if he’s smart, he’ll hide the cache somewhere else, and then there will be no evidence.”

  “You’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t,” observed Issa.

  “Exactly.” Rayne sighed and leaned back, his oatmeal forgotten. “Damn nobles. Doesn’t matter if I’m a student, a clerk, or an adventurer, they still find a way to make my life miserable. Hells, this one even resorted to treason. Gotta respect that sort of dedication to screwing me over.” This got a snort from Issa, and he smiled. “I’m glad my misery provides you with such amusement.”

  Rolling her eyes, Issa looked at him. “Only you could believe that every single action is taken purely to grief you, brother.” Facial muscles relaxing, she sighed. “I know that your natural instinct is going to be to leave an anonymous report, but don’t do that, okay? Believe it or not, the crown does protect whistleblowers. You’ll be much safer if you reveal yourself to them, and it will also spare you from suspicion for having cleared the mine for him.”

  Rayne narrowed his eyes at this, having been perfectly seen through by his sister, but her logic made sense, and in the end, he nodded. “Fine. If you really think that’s the best course of action.”

  She smiled. “I do. Now eat your oatmeal.”