After an hour of walking the streets, Wyn all but gives up on finding Mirana and Neil. The pair of Gilded Legion members aren’t at the barracks, nor anywhere near the logout tavern where she last saw them. The tavern itself is devoid of life entirely, the usual crowd of players is nowhere to be found. Even after sending each of them a quick message about wanting to meet up, there’s no response.

  “I don’t think we’re going to find them, Psai,” Wyn says at last.

  Psai pouts. “That is most unfortunate.”

  Wyn exhales through her nose and slows her pace, boots clicking against the stone. Her first instinct is to leave. If Mirana and Neil are gone, then fine. She can head back toward the mountains and regroup with Elara and the others there.

  Yet something about Lethisburg prickles at the back of her mind, refusing to let her go.

  She had noticed the strangeness earlier before her training session with Lothran. Guards far more heavily armed than usual. Players walking openly with weapons on their backs. Now, with more time spent wandering, the feeling has curdled into something worse. The city has gone quiet.

  Quiet isn’t quite the right word. Technically, there is noise: footsteps, doors shutting, the distant clang of metal somewhere deeper in the city. But it’s the kind of noise that exists around an absence, like everything living is holding its breath. Lethisburg feels like it’s bracing for impact.

  Native NPCs hurry along the streets, heads down, cloaks pulled tight. Shop windows are dark. Stalls that should be packed away neatly look abandoned mid-task, crates left open, wares half covered. Players are scarce, and the ones she does see move with purpose, slipping into alleys or disappearing through side streets. Worst of all, guards are scarce. Long stretches of road sit completely empty, as if patrol routes have been stripped bare.

  The strangeness sets Wyn’s nerves on edge. Given her conversation with Lothran, Wyn wonders if this is all some kind of setup. Nothing here adds up. The lack of players and guards mixed with the fleeing NPCs makes little sense. Wyn can’t make heads or tails of it, and she needs more information to figure out what is going on.

  She tries to stop an elvish woman carrying an armful of wrapped parcels. “Excuse me,” Wyn starts, but the woman flinches at the sound of her voice and scurries away without looking back. Wyn turns toward a human man standing near a doorway, his hand already on the latch.

  “Hey, do you know what’s going on?” Wyn asks.

  He glances at her, eyes wide, then waves her off and ducks inside, slamming the door behind him.

  Wyn stops in the middle of the street. “Psai, what’s going on?”

  “That is an excellent question,” Psai replies, his tone unusually subdued. He drifts closer to her shoulder, glow dimming just a touch. “I am uncertain at this time. Judging by the behavior of the individuals around us, it appears that they are privy to information we lack. I would advise caution.”

  Wyn nods slowly. If Psai is uneasy, then whatever this is goes deeper than skittish NPCs. This feels deliberate. Could this be some sort of setup? And for what?

  , Wyn thinks,

  Decision made, she turns and heads toward the northern gate.

  She walks quickly, just shy of running. Sprinting would be faster, but Wyn knows her limits. Endurance is her lowest stat, and burning her energy now would be stupid. She weaves through narrow streets, past empty fountains and abandoned plazas, until the stonework opens up and the northern wall looms ahead of her.

  The gate is shut.

  Not just closed, but sealed. Thick wooden panels reinforced with iron bands sit flush against the stone. Before, guards loitered near the entrance, chatting or checking papers. Now there’s no one at ground level at all. Only silhouettes move along the top of the wall, armored figures pacing back and forth, weapons in hand.

  From beyond the gate comes the sound of marching. Heavy metal boots strike the stone road in a steady, disciplined rhythm. It is loud enough to carry through the wooden walls, loud enough that Wyn feels the vibration faintly in her chest. Beneath it all, nearly swallowed by the cadence, a voice shouts commands.

  “Can you hear what he’s saying, Psai?” Wyn asks.

  “Yes!”

  Wyn winces and rubs her temples. “Okay,” she says patiently, “what is he saying?”

  Psai floats higher, drifting closer to the gate, angling himself as if that will help. He goes quiet for a moment, listening intently.

  “It seems that the Gilded Legion is preparing for an attack,” he says at last.

  Wyn’s mouth tightens. “I’m not getting through this gate, am I?”

  Psai sinks back down to her side. “Not likely.”

  Wyn glances around, checking to see if any guards can see her. Not seeing any eyes on her, she presses her ear to the cold wooden gate to try and hear the words being said. She can’t make out everything, but gets a better impression of what’s going on.

  “We will hold … here! Our orders … not move! None will … Am I understood!”

  The marching stops, replaced by what sounds like a hundred metal-clad fists ringing against armor. No wonder Wyn couldn’t find Neil and Mirana; they’re likely among the massive grouping of soldiers just outside the gate. Just as she’s about to turn away and try to find some other way out of the city, she overhears a pair of muffled voices just on the other side of the door.

  “… That’s the third sighting report on the southern plains. Why aren’t we reinforcing the south gate?”

  “We’re supposed to follow orders, that’s it. Just do as you’re told and we’ll get through this.”

  “I don’t know, man, something feels wrong about this.”

  The commanding voice calls out once more, quieting the two soldiers’ side conversation.

  Wyn backs away from the door and realizes she’s rapidly running out of options. Wyn guesses that almost all of Lethisburg’s Gilded Legion soldiers are outside the Northern gate based on the number of soldiers she heard. She won’t be able to leave through here. The southern gate might be her best option, but if the soldiers she overheard are right, then there are enemy goblins there as well.

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  If nothing else, the southern gate isn’t a hard no, so Wyn walks south hoping to find better luck there.

  Only five minutes pass as Wyn moves southward before the battle truly begins.

  The explosion from the northern gate rings out through the city, followed by the thunderous roar of men and women charging into combat. Shouts of alarm erupt from nearby houses as shutters slam closed and doors are barred. Anyone still foolish enough to be out on the streets scrambles for the nearest shelter.

  Another explosion follows, just as powerful as the last. The stone beneath Wyn’s feet shakes with the force of it. She has no idea what kind of spell or weapon could cause a blast like that, and she has no interest in learning firsthand.

  She breaks into a run.

  Wyn sprints toward the southern end of the city, boots pounding against the stone streets as her breath hitches in her chest. Her lungs burn, each inhale coming harder than the last, but she forces herself to keep moving. Only when the sounds of battle dull behind her does she finally slow, bracing herself against a nearby wall as she gasps for air.

  “I really need to work out more,” she pants.

  “How would working out improve your situation?” Psai asks.

  Wyn shoots him a look. “I’d be able to run longer?”

  Psai blinks, hovering in place. “How does your ability to run greater distances correlate with the current plight of Lethisburg? I fail to see how improved cardiovascular endurance would alter the decision of enemy forces to attack a city.”

  “I…” Wyn starts, then exhales sharply and shakes her head. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say, buddy.”

  “Always happy to assist you!”

  Once her heart stops trying to escape her ribcage, Wyn pushes herself upright and steps away from the wall. She takes a moment to steady her breathing, then forces herself to look back.

  The northern gate has erupted into full chaos. Spells streak through the air in blinding arcs of light. Fireballs burst overhead, illuminating the sky in dazzling, violent flashes that leave trails of smoke behind them. The noise is overwhelming. Shouted commands, explosions, and the clash of metal blur together into a single, relentless roar.

  There's no way she's going back there.

  Wyn might be a talented upstart mage, but she knows her limits. She is not built to stand against a horde in open combat. The memory of their last encounter in the mountains is still far too fresh. She and the rest of her group barely escaped with their lives. Even with a few hundred Gilded Legion soldiers holding the line, she wants no part of that fight.

  Not without a plan, anyway.

  The problem is, she does not have one. She could run. She could flee the city and put as much distance between herself and this mess as possible. A small part of her itches at the idea of battle, at the thrill, but she knows better. Right now, she would be more burden than an asset.

  That doesn’t matter. Not yet.

  What matters is getting out of Lethisburg alive. She can fight another day.

  Wyn turns south, scanning the streets for the quickest route to the southern gate, when she spots a familiar figure standing far too calmly amid the growing panic.

  “Well,” the man says pleasantly, folding his hands together, “isn’t that fascinating.”

  Wyn’s stomach sinks.

  “Someone didn’t take my advice, did they?” Blintsy continues, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Got stuck in the middle of a battle, hm? A pity.”

  Wyn freezes.

  Blintsy stands in the street as if the city’s tension has politely decided not to apply to him. Gone are the overdramatic wizard clothes. His new robes are pristine with intricate golden lines covering him from head to toe, and despite the chaos, the rich fabric is unmarred by soot or dust.

  “You,” she says flatly.

  Blintsy beams. “Me.”

  She glances south, then back north, the distant sounds of battle rumbling through the stone beneath her feet. “Now is not the time.”

  “Oh, I disagree,” Blintsy says. “This is precisely the time.”

  Wyn folds her arms. “What do you want?”

  “What I want,” he says, “is to offer you an opportunity.”

  “I don’t want opportunities,” Wyn snaps. “I want answers. I want my friends. And I want out of this city.”

  Blintsy’s eyes gleam. “Ah. Then we are perfectly aligned.”

  She stiffens. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Pretend you already know things you shouldn’t.”

  Blintsy laughs, delighted. “But my dear Wyn, that would require pretending.”

  Wyn and Psai exchange glances. Calling this man strange would be an understatement. Then again, if he has useful information, he could be a great help in getting out of the city. Not to mention that even Lothran seemed scared of him.

  “How do you know so much?”

  “Trick of the trade, my dear, and I’d recommend you take advantage. The north gate won’t last forever, you know.”

  “How do you…”

  “And Mirana is very upset about being posted there,” Blintsy continues conversationally. “Neil is pretending not to be. Neither of them is enjoying the northern deployment.”

  Wyn’s breath catches. “I’ve never mentioned them. How do you know?”

  Blintsy presses a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “You wound me. I am an information broker. Knowing things is rather the point.”

  She pulls up her interface again, more out of reflex than hope. Still nothing. No sign of any response from anyone.

  “Fine, you’re some sort of all-knowing trickster. Whatever. Tell me what you know.” Wyn demands.

  “Oh, my dear. I don’t give out information for free.” Blintsy says. “But since you asked so nicely, the communication systems are currently locked down by the Big Men Upstairs. No unsanctioned messaging, no party coordination, no convenient reunions in the middle of a crisis.”

  He leans in. “But I can unlock it. Just for you.”

  Wyn’s eyes narrow. “You can’t.”

  “Oh, I absolutely can.”

  Blintsy waves his hand in Wyn’s direction, and a dozen notifications appear in front of her before disappearing. She catches glimpses of messages from Lothran, Elara, Neil, and all her other friends. But she never gets the chance to read them. Blintsy took them away just as quickly as they arrived.

  “How did you do that?”

  Blintsy clicks his tongue. “My, my, wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “You’ll unlock my messages,” Wyn says, her frustration growing, “and that’s it?”

  Blintsy chuckles. “Oh no. That would be dreadfully incomplete. I will reconnect you with Mirana and Neil, guide you to them, and then see your little group safely routed out of Lethisburg. I’ll send you on your way. Away from the parts of the city that are about to become… inconvenient.”

  Psai drifts closer to Wyn’s shoulder, unusually quiet.

  “And in return,” Wyn says.

  “One favor,” Blintsy replies.

  She exhales sharply. “Of course.”

  “At a time of my choosing,” he continues, voice smooth as silk, “you will assist me in a matter of my choosing. When I need you, you will come.”

  “And if I don’t like what you ask?” Wyn says.

  Blintsy smiles wide. “You may dislike it intensely.”

  Her jaw tightens. “That’s not an answer.”

  “You will not refuse,” he says simply.

  The words are gentle yet absolute. This deal feels wrong, like an overripe fruit tasting far too sweet. On the one hand, Wyn might be able to get out of town without difficulty. Taking the deal may guarantee her getting out.

  “This is a bad idea,” she mutters.

  “Yes,” Blintsy agrees immediately. “It is.”

  She looks back at him. “And you’re enjoying this.”

  “Immensely.”

  Silence stretches between them. Wyn glances around, searching for some indication of another path. Another explosion rocks the north gate, and the wood starts to splinter. She needs to make a choice here and now.

  Finally, Wyn nods once. “Fine. I accept.”

  Blintsy’s grin is instantaneous and radiant, like a trap snapping shut.

  “Wonderful.” He snaps his fingers.

  Wyn gasps as her interface flares to life. Notifications stack rapidly, blinking and cascading over one another. Dozens of notifications, even more than Blintsy had allowed her to see before, billow out of her interface. She doesn’t have any time to read them. She has to get out of this city now.

  “Your friends are alive and mostly intact,” Blintsy says casually. “Scattered, irritated, and doing their very best not to die.”

  Blintsy steps back, already turning away. “You should move quickly. I’ll guide you for now.”

  “For now?” Wyn asks.

  He glances back over his shoulder, eyes glinting with mischief. “All part of the deal, my dear. Oh, also you should duck.”

  A deep, ominous sound rolls through the city from the south, like a giant machine groaning under heavy strain.

  “Goodness, you really ought to learn to follow directions.”

  With a wave of his hand, Blintsy casts a spell. Wyn feels her knees buckle, and she falls to the ground, just in time to avoid a massive stone flying through the space her head just occupied. Wyn’s stomach sinks. She scans the surroundings searching for the source of the sudden boulder, and when she finds it her heart sinks.

  The south gate, undefended and weak compared to the north gate, has fallen. A sea of green flows through the city streets, goblin voices snarling.

  Wyn swallows hard. “I hope you have a plan, Blintsy.”