The door shut and it was just him, Loxa and Chops. She took a seat and pet the familiar enthusiastically, letting the silence stretch out. Oz didn’t break, he was never the type to be goaded into speaking.

  “So how was the Gauntlet? Was it as tough as they all seem to believe it is?” Loxa’s opening line was delivered with a smirk, her voice sharp. Oz was off kilter with her. The Loxa he’d known, not all that well mind you, had been a quiet, bookish type with the kind of sweet voice the teachers loved. Not this.

  “Beat the Champion to death with a door after he set me on fire.” He replied tentatively.

  “Sounds like you. Oh, do relax, I’m not going to bite.” She paused petting Chops, much to his dismay, to properly look at him. Even sitting there, there was a sense of power about her. Perhaps it was because he was familiar with her from before, but he could truly sense the shift that classing had given her. “First, want to say I’m glad you’re not dead.”

  “Same.”

  “Second, do you know why they called in a specialist to check me for mental influence?”

  “Yeah, and it wasn’t unwarranted.” Oz had been trying to forget that experience. Not only had it come back inconclusive, which meant nothing good, even if it was just a mark of how bad the bleed from the Ozzer might be.

  The main issue was that his mind had fought the probe like a raging beast. It wasn’t just the Blessing or his Dwarven stubbornness, neither of which had appreciated the intrusion, but his mind had instinctively lashed out at the attempt.

  A sign that it knew such attempts weren’t to be trusted.

  The night after, he hadn’t slept, spending all his time working on a pair of throwing axes to distract himself. It was unsettling enough to know that someone had poked around in his brain, but it was thoughts of his father that had smouldered like hot coals in his mind.

  What might they have done to him? How much of his madness was increasingly justifiable paranoia, and how much might have been down to this?

  “Well fuck. Here I was hoping they were just paranoid.” Loxa’s grin was gone. If anything, she was giving him a worried look.

  “I’m safe, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Oz began to pet Chops to take his mind off things.

  “No, that wasn’t it…” she replied quietly.

  “Look, what do you actually know? I’d rather not have a whole conversation about this without checking.”

  “You were ill. Don’t know how, but apparently the fix was the Gauntlet, which is why you’re here now. It’s something to do with Greywater, and likely your dad given the questions they asked. Including mental manipulation of an unclassed given the test, which is terrifying. That no one’s sure exactly who or what is to blame, which is why no one is advertising your name. That various, well I wouldn’t call them threats, but it’s been made clear to me that endangering you would be unwise.”

  “Sorry about the threats.” Oz frowned at that.

  “Don’t worry, it’s something I kind of worked out for myself. Nothing they said. I’m assuming, given what I’ve heard, you’ve been here working your charms for a couple of weeks, the person who grabbed you was A-Tier, and the same person who blew up the transport circle.”

  “Work my charms?” Oz laughed at that. He was the last to think he had charm. He scratched the back of his neck, hoping she’d overlook that he’d dodged the rest of the question. As he didn’t break, Loxa just sighed.

  “You have too much game for how quiet you are. Actually, I always wanted to ask you, were you aware some of the girls used to watch you when you were sent to split wood as punishment? Especially in the summer when you had your shirt off? Thing is, if it were any of the other boys, I’d guess it was deliberate.”

  “No? Wait, why are we talking about this? Don’t you have, like, questions?” Oz frantically tried to wrestle the conversation back onto stable ground. Loxa paused and looked him over, clearly thinking it through.

  “You doing alright?”

  “That’s it? Really? You’re not angry or want to know more? I’m not observant, but I know how hard you worked to get here, only to find me.”

  “You passed the Gauntlet, Oz. Your success doesn’t detract from my own.”

  “Besides, it’d be a crap way to repay what you did.” She waved off his question even as it formed. “I don’t know if I ever said it straight to you, but thanks for what you did for Mel. She told me about the moment you realised what the marks meant. That you didn’t pause, you didn’t wait, you saw what that monster did, helped her put her shirt back on and then went to the Guards. I know from my dad you whipped out a threat that you’d never used before, not even in prison.”

  “I never went to prison. Jail doesn’t count.” Oz crossed his arms and leant back in his chair. Her manner of speaking was still disorientating, but he felt he was getting back into the swing of things. He just had to imagine he was talking to one of the Guard.

  “You know what I mean. Look, here’s the deal. You’ll tell me what you want to tell me. I know that you wouldn’t hurt people by keeping quiet. If I’m honest, I want to be on your team. Even if you hadn’t handled the Gauntlet, and didn’t have an Altharn trying to scout you, I have personally seen you fight six on one and come out on top. I’m on your side no matter what. You’re a good person and a better fighter. My dad would never forgive me if I missed the chance to have someone like you on my team.”

  That was what was bothering him. Loxa talked like her Guardsman father. The swearing, the sharp switches in topic that kept you off kilter, the bluntness. Then the shocking sign that he cared, and wasn’t like the other idiots who just saw him as the guy who was always in fights.

  He took a moment to think and respond. It wasn’t like it was a bad deal she offered. Both Loxa and her dad had been part of the few people he’d considered actually nice from Greywater. The only thing he was lost on was the mention of Bless scouting him.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. But what was that you said about…”

  “We should get moving. Don’t want any of these dynasty shits taking the opportunity to hit on the girls.” Loxa, just like her father, never gave time for things to settle, quickly sweeping the rug out from under you before you could find your footing.

  “I’m not hitting on the girls.” Oz replied sharply, rising and stepping up to the heavy door.

  “Who said anything about you?”

  The front of Noxarcer was a mess. Everyone was trying to get a lift out to town, aiming to celebrate their classing for new students, or celebrating a reunion for the older years. While huge aether buses did run up here, many of the dynasty students were seemingly above such ‘simple’ modes of transport.

  Bless was no exception, it seemed.

  The others were off to the side of the taxi rank. Oz heard them before he saw them, easily making out Angie’s rapid fire speech. Less familiar was the level of snap to her words, or the growl that edged in with it. The other voices sang a nasal chorus of overly entitled offence. It seemed the Starers had found them.

  “I’m just saying that Miss Altharn should consider joining us for…”

  “How about you join us for our party? You can even bring your Scholar friends.”

  “My father suggested—”

  The voices were all friendly, but in that polished, clipped manner. Not an ounce of genuine feeling behind it.

  Pushing through with Loxa, Oz found their group holding a taxi off to the side. It was an extra large Aether cab, able to hold up to eight on a pair of bench seats. It seemed that the Starers believed that if they argued hard enough, they might somehow earn a spot.

  From the look on Bless’s face, and the worrying build up of magic that Oz’s enhanced perception was picking up, the only spot they’d find was in Noxarcer’s resurrection chamber.

  “I’ll block them off, get them inside.” Oz said to Loxa, and she nodded.

  “Alright, we’re here. Get in the taxi.” Loxa called. That distracted the Starers, and he could see the group’s eyes light up. Bless didn’t move, though at least her spell stopped building in power.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Oz took the opportunity to step between the Starers and the door, backed up by Chops. His sudden presence and utter disregard for their personal space had them all surprised.

  They were the wealthy and powerful. People didn’t just get in their way.

  “Who are you?”

  “How dare you!”

  “We were having a conversation!”

  The Ozzer wanted to snark back. To point out that yelling invitations at one didn’t count as a dialogue. But Oz stayed silent and just stared at them. Years of experience at Greywater had told him that when the group was against you, talking back just gave them a new opening. That wasn’t to say he didn’t respond.

  No, he unleashed the full Greywater stare. This wasn’t his racial ability, just something he’d honed over years. He’d even asked Gerry, the Minotaur bouncer of the Ruckus and Grill, for pointers. Gerry’s advice was about convincing them of three things. First, there was nothing between them and a beating but the fact they weren’t worth it yet. Second, that they were so pathetic that nothing they could possibly do would harm you when delivering said beating. Third, to have enough intelligence in it to show you understood that said beating might have consequences, and that you were prepared for that.

  Even if that preparation was a tarp, a shovel, and a place where no one would find the bodies.

  It said a lot for Oz’s skill that this look alone was enough to freeze all three of the Starers in their tracks. Chops might have accounted for part of that. The low stereo rumble as the pair of heads growled really added to the ambience.

  “Erm…”

  “Come on, Oz, don’t make them piss themselves.” Loxa grabbed his shoulder. Oz gave one last look at the three of them before following Chops into the taxi.

  “Well hello, I’m your driver. Can I inter—oh.” The chipper voice died as the demon within noticed Oz. A swift tone change, a nervous jump of the wipers, and “Where would you like to go today.”

  “Just drive towards Opal. He’s not Gerry, they’ll snap out of it quickly.” Loxa called out, and the vehicle lurched forward.

  “That was a shameful display.” Pilt the ratman looked over his shoulder at the students. Oz hadn’t really had a chance to properly look at the ratkin. Ratkin were a distinct race to Beastkin, related but separated for so long that they’d become an entirely different species. Most races looked to Oz like a dwarf who’d either been stretched out or shrunk, with some extra bits nailed on here or there. Beastkin like Angie were exactly like that. The most common changes were fur, ears, eyes, teeth and tails.

  A ratkin looked more like someone had started with a giant rat and then tried to shape them into a vaguely human form. They had rat shaped skulls, fur all over, and their arms and legs were differently shaped, giving a slightly hunched frame. The few that Oz had met were also fastidiously neat.

  Pilt was no exception. While they all wore their uniforms in varying degrees of smartness, Pilt was the only one who looked like he’d been ironed into his. He carried a leather doctor’s bag resting primly on his lap. And his cravat, despite the challenges of having limited definition between neck and head, was immaculately tied.

  “I can’t believe students would act like that.”

  “Erm.” Oz could swear he heard a small voice. It sounded more like Loxa’s old way of speaking than anything else.

  “I didn’t mean by you or Miss Loxa. I was rather impressed by your quick and decisive action. In hindsight, we should have got in the taxi and circled around.”

  “That’s what we should have done. I just got annoyed when they started to ignore Bless telling them to leave us alone.” Angie groaned.

  “I’m so terribly sorry. It’s my fault.” Bless was looking down at her hands. She seemed small, her presence always feeling bigger than her actual height.

  “Yeah, no. They’re the shits.” Loxa added bluntly.

  Chops headed over to Bless, shuffling across the unstable floor of the carriage in hopes he’d get pets or to comfort her. Probably both.

  “My family has a reputation. And I…” Bless looked utterly awful. The living metal armour of her Valkyrie heritage was beginning to curl up from under her collar, flowing as it tried to manifest a helmet to hide her face.

  “Not your fault. Oz’s dad was the most terrifying man in town, didn’t mean I treated him any different.”

  “That’s not fair, what about the Captain?” The Ozzer pushed him to speak, nudging him to recognise a tactful change in topic. Even if Oz wasn’t too pleased at the specific direction she was taking.

  “I mean, in a direct fight? Sure, the Captain every time, but I can’t imagine your dad giving him one. And that’s not to mention the Grimhold.”

  “Ooooh, Oz lore!” Angie clapped.

  “Where are we going? Bless, you said you had some recommendations?” Oz tried to grab hold of the conversation again.

  “Erm, excuse me.” There was that small voice again. Oz looked around and spotted Chops sniffing at one of the empty seats. From their familiar bond, Oz could feel something more than simple desire to sniff everything.

  “What are you looking at, Chops?” Oz asked, putting in the effort to really look.

  When he looked at the seat properly, he noticed it wasn’t empty. There was a student in it. He nearly ignored it. It must have been one of the others in the cab. Something clicked in Oz’s mind. It didn’t feel like a mental attack, but it had the same shape.

  “Errr, hello.” A young, gangly student with purple skin and demon horns that marked him as a vitivore, a particular kind of fiendish heritage, the most notorious of which was the succubus, was suddenly sitting there. A very confused Chops stared them down.

  “Who are you?” Oz felt himself growl as he pointed at the student. It was like he was ripping off a cloak. Everyone else in the cab jumped in surprise.

  “Where did he come from!”

  “Who are you?”

  “By the Nether, was that a passive!”

  “Can you pull over please? One of the Starers got in!” Oz knocked on the front of the cab, which began to slow.

  “I promise I’m not like them! I swear, I was just trying to catch a cab, and then you jumped in too. I think my new passive might be a bit strong. I’m so sorry.” The words came out in a tumble, the fiend looking absolutely mortified. He was clearly a Scholar, or an excellent actor.

  “Wait, do you mean you were here the whole time?” Angie asked, looking worried.

  “Is this right?” Oz snapped, pointing his head towards the front, where he instinctively felt the main body of the demon’s consciousness rested.

  “The young man was indeed the first one in the cab. He didn’t say anything when the rest of you stopped me, so I assumed you were together.” The voice replied, a little vigour returning. Maybe it thought that could be leveraged to get rid of Oz.

  “More like you wanted more people for your sales pitch. That’s on us. I’m sorry for stealing your cab. Sorry, what’s your name? Also, that’s a fascinating passive skill. Is it a mental type?” Angie began apologising and complimenting the demon, who looked even more uncomfortable with every passing word.

  “Angie, focus.” said Oz.

  “Oh right. This is Pilt, Loxa, Oz, Bless, and as he said, I’m Angie. We’re all first years on the Emissary course.”

  “My name is Trevitium, but everyone calls me Trev. I’m sorry about the passive. I just got it and I’m having trouble controlling it. It’s my fault. I can get out.”

  “No need. That is a powerful passive. Are you a fellow Emissary student, or a pure Ranger?” Pilt asked. He regarded the unexpected passenger with an impressed look. Maybe it was impressed. Oz wasn’t an expert at reading such a long face.

  “I’m an Emissary. Maybe I should get out. I don’t live far. I was just going back to see my family. I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s alright. I don’t believe you’re one of the ‘Starers’, as Oz called them. You don’t need to apologise to us. If anything, we’re the ones who’ve upset your night.” Bless added smoothly.

  “You don’t need to leave. Where’s your family? We’ll drop you off and cover your fare. Least we can do for disrupting your night.” Oz asked. He preferred to be the one to speak to the cab. They always seemed to be more efficient that way.

  “It’s the Moonlight Platter.” Trev replied with a squeak.

  “Oh, that was on my aunt’s list of recommended places!” Bless grinned.

  “Your aunt goes to—? I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry for having good food? Oh, we should go there. It specifically recommends it for having a broad selection of cuisines. Apparently my uncle really likes the dwarven curry.” Bless smiled, happy that the conversation was back on safer ground.

  “Taxi, take us to the Moonlight Platter.” Oz commanded. He’d still not found a good place for a curry, and he wasn’t about to miss out.

  “In fact, why don’t you join us? Would you be up for celebrating getting your class? It seems you’ve already got an incredible passive.”

  “I, err.” The young demon nodded.

  “Well, all’s well that ends well.”

  In the few minutes they travelled, they talked about the subjects they were planning on taking. It seemed that it wasn’t polite to speak or ask about the classes they’d got, even if Oz could sense little flares of power here and there as the newly classed clearly tried to discreetly experiment with their skills.

  They arrived a few minutes later at the Moonlight Platter. It was an old building on a road with classically lit signs. It was clean and devoid of graffiti. A place that, while not the most refined part of the city, was still more than grand enough for the dynasty types to visit if they felt like a bit of adventure.

  The building itself wasn’t swanky in design, but had that deep, homely feel to it that only places that had been open for generations could really manage. It was also packed, with a multicultural line stretching out the door.

  The group paused, taking a breath. Loxa was looking around with interest, while the others kept themselves more upright, ignoring the whispers and gazes of the queue.

  “I’ll go tell my mum about… this. I’m sorry in advance.” Trev said, as he nimbly slid past the queue. Somehow, no one seemed to object.

  “Was that a warning?” Oz asked.

  “I don’t think so. He seems like a nice person.” Angie grinned. “I also really want to ask more about his passive. It’s such an odd ability. To be so powerful, it must have some serious limitations. Still an incredible talent.”

  “You seem a very observant person yourself. Talents all around.” Pilt observed. A look darted between him and Bless.

  “Oh, enough. It’s not a secret. Well, maybe to Oz. And I didn’t get a good enough read on Mr Apology to tell if he knows or not. But the rumours of the ‘Altharn’ teams are so well known that even I heard about them in our podunk town.” Loxa said, looking around. Pilt nodded, followed by Angie.

  “What am I missing?” Oz said, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “The reason the ‘Starers’, as you called them, were all but breaking the windows to get into the cab with us is that my family is famed for putting together strong teams. It’s mostly nonsense. Our teams don’t really perform that much better.”

  “As someone who was raised amongst dynasty families, even among them it’s considered a major badge of honour. It’s all about the prestige. Even if Bless underestimates her ability to gather skilled people, the fact that so many people believe her family, and by extension her, will pick winners has a tendency to encourage people to invest more in them in the hopes of getting in early, as it were. Even if that is only as a means to gain another way to connect to the Altharns. One might consider it a self fulfilling prophecy.” Pilt filled them in.

  “Wait, the Starers thought that behaviour would make you want to work with them? Are they idiots, or are they just that desperate? Is it really that big of a deal?” Angie looked shocked.

  “It’s—” Whatever Bless was about to say was wiped out as a side door swung open.

  “Well hello there! Trev told me you’re friends of his from Noxarcer!” Oz had been in many powerful presences, but nothing had quite the intensity of a mother who saw an opportunity to help out her child.