The caravan remained confused and vaguely unsettled by the unpopulated southeastern desert wastes. But even with their nominal leader lost to the Piper Demon’s memory-wiping abduction, the group seemed to know where they were going. They’d only traveled together to chase after Honest John, and with John long gone, no doubt cackling from the unbroken half of his face at the devious trap he’d set, there wasn’t much of a reason to stick together any longer.

  Jelena’s posse stuck to their original plan: get to Port Town. Utilize whatever black or grey market services remained after the death (and reanimation) of the thieves' guild in the dark corners of town, then do another heist. The goal this time was to acquire a relic that would help with infiltrating a great dungeon of traps and tricks.

  The scribblings of the thief, found and deciphered in Autumn’s Redoubt, pointed towards the ancient, landlocked docks deep in the river delta. The Scout (well, the Thief, if you go against church doctrine) had a hidden treasure trove somewhere in the dungeon. Level fifty was the perfect time to start trying to brave the class dungeons in a balanced party. Any party with Enkidu was more than adept at taking out any physical threat.

  The roads to Port Town were wooded and quiet. Calaf had hoped to explain the events of the previous night to Zilara and Jelena, but found the topic hard even to broach. From their perspectives, they’d merely drifted off to sleep early that evening, then woke up in their bunks with no awareness that any time was missing at all.

  Just the thought of entire demonic armies and corps running about the countryside in the old days sent Calaf shuddering. Dozens of Piper Demons collecting entire villages. Flying demonic scouts prowling for victims to kidnap, as depicted in numerous Deepwood etchings and stained-glass Riverglen cathedral murals. And the backbone of the demonic army – legions of ‘warrior caste’ demons, entirely muscle, more than a match for even the most physically fit human operating without the Menu’s blessing. Brrr. Frightening times indeed.

  … well, more than a match for anyone aside from Enkidu, but surely he was not around during the time of the Ancient Heroes of Yore.

  Onward they walked. Calaf’s mood did not abate.

  Last time we were here… he’d briefly reunited with Deacon, and then, they’d encountered another unholy and eldritch entity whose very existence beggared explanation.

  With goosebumps at the back of his neck not quite rising to the level of a status effect, Calaf marched onward.

  A journey from the desert’s edge to the squat wooden gatehouses of Port Town took barely a day when there wasn’t a series of crises causing problems every few steps.

  It was the same old Port Town. A distant lighthouse sat dormant during the day but would soon light up with a spinning beacon over the cape. Some squat wooden buildings had been built near the lighthouse’s base. It appears the secluded lighthouse was now the source of a small city watch outpost. All the better to prevent it from becoming another den of thieves, or worse.

  The group walked along the wet and muddy streets of Port Town, moving parallel to an aqueduct. This aqueduct ended in a square reservoir six blocks from the city’s main cathedral. A fountain well jutting out of this aqueduct would normally be busy with locals filling up as many containers as their inventory could manage. Now, though, it was used only by the thirstiest citizens with the fewest options.

  “Water’s had an acrid taste to it for the last year,” said a local, when Calaf asked.

  At least two Arbiters had been stationed in the reservoirs for six months, Calaf knew. Surely that was enough time to cleanse the infestation.

  Unbridled fungal growth in the water supply was one thing. The next heist sat even more ominously in Calaf’s gut. It was his idea, yes. But this would require stealing from someone whose trust he’d rather not betray.

  A merchant and market quarter sat between this reservoir and the cathedral.

  “We’ll try to infiltrate after nightfall,” Jelena said. “Until then, anyone who needs to resupply should do so.”

  Calaf’s armor had a hole in the lower abdomen. The bruise from the Piper Demon’s attempted dismemberment of the Squire had mostly repaired itself after a prodigious number of Intermediate Heals. This was another incongruent aspect of the previous night that Jelena did not comment on. It was possible that some lingering effects of the siren’s spell did not allow her to put two and two together.

  Regardless, this meant it was time for Calaf to find some new, viable armor.

  There was no dearth of armor merchants in the seaside trading hub. Calaf sought out the largest store that would offer the widest selection. A simple wooden sign on the outside indicated the store was “Ahm’s Junior’s Fine Quality Mercantile Depot”

  Wait a minute…

  The name was oddly familiar. Calaf stepped inside.

  “Excuse me. Is this the same Ahms that has an establishment called Ahms Armarments in Granite Pass?” Calaf asked.

  The merchant behind the counter did not look familiar. His Interface listed him as Ahms the Fourth, Esquire.

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  “Oh, Granite Pass?” there was a flicker of recognition in the merchant’s eyes. “Ay, that’s my cousin.”

  “I’d heard that Ahms Senior had traveled to… Firefield, I want to say.”

  “Oh, that would be my father’s brother. Yep. They send forged goods up here to sell every now and again. Uncle Ahms has more recently been sending raw materials down here. Don’t sell so well, but we send it back to Granite’s Pass on occasion to help with my cousin’s forging abilities.”

  One small mystery was solved. Calaf checked out their wares.

  “We don’t have the forging capabilities like what you may have seen back in the Pass. But we do have shipments from all over the route. Take a gander.”

  Replacement Desert Silken Mail was readily available for a slight markup to pay for the shipment across regions. The armor had served Calaf well the past several months. But the extra mobility would not make up for the lack of defense if they fought anything on the level of that demon again. Relic thievery was a lucrative business, and he had most of the posse’s coin in his Inventory. This was practically a business expense. He looked for higher-level, more defense-oriented armor.

  A heavier variant of the old Duran mail. Perfect for Squires on the cusp of Paladin-hood. And his stats were just high enough to clear the rather prodigious requirements. Calaf’s wallet tanked the considerable markup as he bought the armor.

  His ruined desert mail would recoup only pennies on the gold piece. Still, he sold it off, then went looking for a shield.

  Redstone shields were hefty but extremely durable in all circumstances. The blanket block to all poison damage had helped him more than once. Lightning resistance was good against Honest John’s standard operating procedure of shooting out bullet lightning between bouts of giga-flare. But the lack of fire resistance had cost Calaf valuable time once those flares started flying. The redstone greatshield’s weight was meant to synergize with the nimble and light desert mail. Without that mail, such a heavy shield was a hindrance even to an endurance-minded Paladin, and especially to a mid-level Squire now moonlighting as a relic thief.

  Instead, Calaf pointed to another shield on display.

  On the surface, this was a downgrade. The stats were relatively steep, though any Squire in good standing ought to be able to fulfill them. Lightning and poison resistance were less than the corresponding desert greatshield. Oh, the fire and lightning mitigation would help with most attacks, but not anything on the level of a high-level flare or arc lightning. The total damage multipliers grew exorbitant to where nothing short of a full hundred percent defense would do. Total physical defense on block was standard for any shielder class after level twenty. That extra effect at the very end of the description is what caught Calaf’s eye.

  Greatly enhances shield bash. The diamond shape of the kite shield would help with parrying as well. He offered the requisite gold up and accepted the trade window.

  Coffers empty, Calaf then sold the demonbone slivers for ten thousand gold each. The broken redstone shield sold for just shy of half the full price; the base materials worked well for forging.

  And so, his share of their gold haul depleted, Calaf emerged in proper Autumn’s Redoubt-tier armor. He maintained his hefty redstone spear, for it would last him some levels yet, especially with more offensive-oriented allies like Enkidu in tow.

  The sun would not set for another hour and a half. There would still be time before Calaf had to rendezvous with Jelena and company. Calaf would rather not attempt this after dark.

  Calaf returned to a familiar patch of wall at the side of a reservoir. He was surprised to find soldiers on patrol, all in regular uniforms. Interfaces listed these sentries as Arbitral Auxiliary Corps, the same group that interrupted their heist up in Autumn's Redoubt. It appeared they were fanning out across the pilgrimage stations.

  This could be problematic if we cause a scene, Calaf thought. He resolved to inform Jelena about the new guards in town.

  Calaf waited in the wings for awhile, observing. They were doing formations in a city square on the far side of the reservoir. It shouldn't cause any problems for now.

  Furtively, certain he wasn't detected, Calaf selected and pressed a fake brick, and a hidden doorway rose into the ceiling.

  Within, the hidden thieves’ guild passageway appeared renovated. The stone was brighter, likely having been scrubbed clean of all grime. Calaf followed the path into the central reservoir – a path he knew well enough. All traps had been removed in the deep clean. His new armor clanged as he traveled up a rusty ladder into the main reservoir.

  This reservoir had been where Calaf had first encountered Metzger Cross, former bishop of Port Town and concurrent leader of the thieves’ guild. He’d fought, and been victorious, against a particularly burly bodyguard bruiser named Bruce. More recently, he and Jelena’s party had fought a rotting and reanimated Bruce in this same chamber, when the rot had transformed the entire reservoir into a fetid nest of fungal decay.

  And it was in this very reservoir where Karol, a forsaken and brand-scoured former mage, had died burning the rot away.

  There was no evidence of the pitched battle that had taken place many months ago. Burning poor Karol’s body had prevented the unbridled rot from repurposing her in death. No sign of the rot remained in the reservoir – aside from a single orange-hued mushroom, poking out in a shaded area by the waterside.

  Perhaps the rot could not be cleansed from an area so easily. Still, there was no horde of undead and no nest of fungus waiting here.

  Flaming Sword of Faith set Calaf’s redstone spear-tip alight. He poked the lone mushroom and watched as it, and its spores, burnt to cinder.

  Ah, it was Karol who gave me my first primer on the use of spells, Calaf recalled as the fungus burned. She’d been on the path to Battlemage, following after her brother, Kai, already an accomplished Paladin. Both had been a major inspiration for Calaf.

  Everything had gone awry when Paladin Kai had been slain tanking a giga-flare from who else but Honest John. Karol’s deterioration after that point had been swift, and she’d died in a desperate attempt to make herself useful in some fashion to the church. Her sacrifice had possibly saved Port Town itself.

  Calaf thought about what would happen if he were to lose Jelena. Topical, given the events of the previous night. Though the Squire was still relatively new to this un-churchlike life of crime, he got the impression that your average scofflaw seldom grew old. The career self-selected for boldness and not at all for caution or restraint. In many ways, he was as ill-suited for this as he’d found himself for faithful pilgrimage-going.

  Calaf left the reservoir, confident that the rot would be kept at bay for some time yet.