There was no time to discuss what they'd learned after their meeting with Liandra. Pete and Sam were forced out into the open as several large hobgoblin security brutes wandered into the alleyway and motioned toward the alley exit.

  "Yous not allowed to be in here, hoomans," one of the hobgoblins said.

  Pete turned to Liandra but saw that the elf had vanished.

  "Yous can go back to the other part now," the hobgoblin said.

  "Yeah, sure," Pete said, walking with Sam toward the alley entrance. "We were just talking about Bobo dolls, that's all. Wondering whether we should buy some."

  That earned him a raised eyebrow from Sam.

  "Bobos are good," the other hobgoblin said with a smile. The hulking figure pointed down at his belt where one of the dolls was hanging. He grinned proudly. "Bobos are good," he repeated.

  "Great, well we might go buy ourselves one then," Pete said as he and Sam walked back out into the main area of the arena foyer.

  [Sam-Private-Pete] Liandra vanished. Maybe some kind of stealth?

  [Pete-Private-Sam] Or she just bolted while we weren't looking?

  [Sam-Private-Pete] Maybe. You think the System sent those guards to get us?

  Pete shrugged.

  [Pete-Private-Sam] They didn't seem interested in Liandra. I mean, they weren't specifically looking for her, so maybe it was just a coincidence.

  [Sam-Private-Pete] And did I hear right? She wants you to start a union?

  [Pete-Private-Sam] I think she just wants me to say the word.

  [Sam-Private-Pete] Weird.

  [Pete-Private-Sam] Super weird.

  They walked toward Ollie and the others out at the front of the Bobo doll stall. The rangy Australian was speaking with the squat proprietor of the stall, while Craig and the other goblins goggled at the range of dolls laid out behind glass in front of them.

  "Yeah, but how do I list a really expensive doll?" Ollie asked.

  "How expensive?" the goblin vendor asked. "Ten thousand Belch Bucks? Twenty?"

  Ollie pointed a finger upward.

  "Fifty thousand?" the vendor asked, eyes growing wide.

  "More."

  The goblin shook his head. "In that case, you won't want to use any of the regular trade applications. Your best bet is to enter a local market on one of the three central worlds, but you'd actually need to be on planet to do that."

  "What worlds are these?"

  "Opulon, Belch Prime, or Fortunis."

  "Right, and how do I get to one of those?"

  Pete laughed as he walked up alongside the other man. "Seriously, dude?"

  "Yeah, man. These shits are worth fuckloads of cash. I figure if this whole game is run by money, why not try to make as much of the stuff as possible?" Ollie turned back to the vendor. "Is there any way to get to one of those planets?"

  The goblin looked from Ollie to Pete and then back again.

  "You are players. You won't be able to leave this world unless you reach the professional league. If you get to that stage, I guess you can do whatever you like."

  "You want to start buying and selling dolls?" Pete said, sensing that he already knew the reason why.

  "Maybe," Ollie replied. "Just scoping out the playing field, trying to learn the rules."

  Pete grinned. "So, you can exploit it and make a ton of cash, right?"

  "Exactly!" Ollie pointed to the rows of Bobo dolls lined up behind glass display cases. "These things are worth big bucks if you can get hold of the right ones. Hell, my class was the most expensive one on offer, and the only reason I could afford it was because of these dolls." He looked off into the distance. "And the whole zombie thing, I guess."

  "Makes sense, I guess," Pete said. "I hear these things are pretty huge all over the Dominion."

  Ollie had told them all about the high-value Bobo doll he still had stashed in his inventory, but he'd sworn them all to secrecy. It felt to Pete completely frivolous to be collecting and trading dolls in the middle of a fight to the death, but ultimately the Dominion itself was governed by money, so it probably wasn't a bad play. And if anyone was going to exploit the trade of collectibles, it would be Ollie.

  [Nero] I would suggest making your way to the weapon farm, Pete. There, you will each need to select your own soulbound weapon. Once that's done, you will be led to the novice arena.

  "Soon," Pete agreed. "First, I need to find a place to use this voucher."

  He pulled the Mobile Asset Reconditioning Voucher from his inventory. Like everything else in the Dominion, it sported the smirking face of Tongsly Belch on the front, with an image of several cars racing against one another and the words SINGLE USE ONLY printed in block letters.

  "Over there!" Sam said, pointing to a large tent in the distance with a bright sign above it. The sign featured a cartoonish pickup truck being driven by a crazed-looking goblin with a trucker's cap and one hand shoved out the window, giving the thumbs-up gesture.

  "Kinda looks like you," Pete mused, turning to Sam.

  That earned him a sharp elbow to the ribs, forcing him to back away, laughing. "Just the cap, I mean."

  As they approached the tent, they were greeted not by a goblin as Pete expected, but by a hulking figure with light blue skin and wearing a pair of plain red overalls. The figure was the size of a hobgoblin but boasted curved horns on the top of its head, along with a heavy, well-muscled frame and large blue eyes.

  "Big boy," Ollie muttered under his breath.

  [Nero] A troll, from Frostmorn if I am not mistaken. It is very rare to see trolls such as this outside of a combat setting, and rarer still to encounter them this early on in the contest.

  The troll wore a crooked name tag with a name that consisted of six crossed-out zeros. Pete found himself wondering how such a name would be pronounced when the troll's face lit up and a broad smile spread across his broad face.

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  "Vault Bruiser!" the huge figure declared, arms spread wide. "I am seeing you on screens making fightings and such!" The figure spoke with what Pete interpreted as a thick, almost Slavic accent. "Is very impressive. You shooting the arrows and then make fightings with the knife."

  The brute mimed fighting with his meaty hands, smiling all the while as he thrust and punched at the air, clearly thrilled. As he caught sight of Sam standing next to Pete, the troll's eyes widened.

  "Woe Binder!" he said, almost reverently. "I am seeing you too. Driving the car very fast. Also making repairs." He looked down at Sam, leaning left and right as though checking for something. "You having the wolf with you?"

  Sam smiled. "I can get him for you if you like."

  "Oh, yes. I liking that very much," the troll replied.

  Pete thought the big brute was going to start clapping his hands; he was so pleased with the prospect. Sam summoned Wolfy, and the large hellhound materialized in a swirl of thick black smoke. He looked just as Pete remembered, but a little taller and broader at the shoulders. The demon dog's eyes were their usual swirling crimson, and the faint smell of sulfur accompanied the creature as it appeared.

  The troll immediately bent down and started patting the wolf on the back, his huge hands gentle while Wolfy nuzzled contentedly.

  "We've got a voucher," Pete said, holding out the item in his hand. "We need to fix up our ride."

  The troll looked over at Pete, nodding. "Jackpot. Yes, yes. I happy to work on this truck. Is very good truck. Lots of characters."

  "How much work will that voucher get us?" Sam asked.

  The big brute stood and reached for the voucher. Pete handed it over, and the troll considered the document.

  "Oh, yes, yes. I completely fix your truck." The troll nodded to himself. "I fix engines and body. I fit some new armor and also repair shields."

  He looked over at Sam, his blue eyes twinkling. "Maybe make some nice paintings on the side."

  She grinned back at him. "Like flames?"

  The troll shrugged. "Whatever you want."

  "Skulls!" Sam blurted. "Or a picture of Wolfy running along the side?"

  "Yes, yes. I make beautiful paintings."

  Craig coughed, drawing their attention. "I wonder," he said softly, "whether it would be possible to make some slight changes for myself and my fellow goblins. Nothing extravagant, you understand. Perhaps a simple sleeping nook with some hammocks? The vehicle is quite roomy and we goblins prefer more compact sleeping arrangements."

  "Roomy?" Pete said with a chuckle. "You're joking, right?"

  "Compared to our usual accommodations, yes. If it is too much trouble, however—"

  "No," Pete interrupted. "No, it's fine." He turned to the Troll. "Do you think you could add something like that?"

  The huge figure nodded, grinning. "Yes, yes. I making room for everyones. Room for eating and making plans. Room for sleeping too."

  He motioned to the whole group.

  "I make truck good for everybody."

  Sam nodded. "And how long will it take?"

  By way of response, the big troll walked over to a nearby console standing just outside of his tent. There were boxes full of machine parts and crates stacked up inside the tent, along with tires, exhausts, and other recognizable components. Large figures moved through the interior of the structure, all dressed in the same blue overalls as the proprietor, steadily going about their work.

  The troll tapped the console and fed the voucher into a small slot at the base of the device. After a few seconds, a section of the ground opened up behind the figure, and Jackpot slowly rose from below, looking even more disheveled than Pete remembered from when they'd left it.

  The huge figure walked over to the RV, pressing a hand gently against one of the dented and battered front panels. He bent down, inspecting the undercarriage of the vehicle and walking right around it as he continued his examination.

  "We making this one our number one job," the troll said. "We getting this done before the arena is starting."

  "What?" Sam said. "Seriously? You can get all that work done in, what, a little over an hour?"

  The other figure smirked, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. "We got temporal freezer in back. We can using that to making all the time we need, but out out here is seeming like just one hour." He leaned forward a little. "Is very expensive. Costing a lot of Belch Buck to maintain the temporal freezer, but I make special use because I liking you and I liking puppy."

  Wolfy responded with a loud bark, and the troll patted the beast once more.

  "I make it all good for you," he said, turning back to Pete. "I make very nice. Cosy for everybody in the group even..."

  The big brute's eyes grew wide as he spotted Coop sitting in Torgo's arms while the little goblin looked around with interest at the mechanic's stall.

  "Coop!" the troll blurted excitedly. He immediately turned around and started shouting. "Oban! Oban, come and see. Is coop! Bright Ogan!"

  As he turned back to face Coop, two more trolls came lumbering out of the interior of the tent. One looked female and the other male. Their overalls were stained with grease and oil, as were their faces. The two brutes grinned broadly as they approached, shaking their heads and practically giggling with one another.

  "Coop!" their leader said, pointing toward the ferret.

  "Okay, what's going on here?" Coop asked.

  "I think they just like you," Sam suggested. "They like Wolfy, so maybe they've got a thing for cute animals."

  "Firstly," Coop responded, "I am not an animal. Secondly, that hellhound of yours is not cute! Useful in a fight, yes, but he smells like bad eggs, and those eyes are like looking into the jaws of hell itself."

  "You get what I mean," Sam insisted.

  The troll vendor pointed at Coop, bending down as though trying to make himself as small as possible.

  "Hello, Coop. Can I hold you?"

  Coop recoiled. "Keep those meaty hands to yourself!"

  The brute chuckled, turning to face his companions, who responded in kind.

  "She's so funny," he said to Pete. "She's always making me laugh because she is such a little fluffy creature, but she is saying such strange things."

  "So cute!" one of the other trolls said, miming holding Coop to her chest and hugging tightly.

  "Pete! I don't like this," Coop said. "These beasts look like they want to eat me!"

  Torgo stepped back, moving behind Pete while still holding the ferret.

  "I don't think they want to eat you, Coop. I think they're just fans," Pete insisted. "Right?" He said this last to the vendor, who nodded profusely.

  "Oh yes, yes. Big fans. We like Coop very much because she is so cute, so small but also strong and with such funny words."

  Ollie chuckled. "So tasty," he muttered under his breath.

  That drew a panicked look from Coop. "Pete?!"

  "They're not going to eat you, Coop," Pete insisted.

  "Then why the hell are they looking at me like I'm a forty-ounce steak?!"

  Pete stepped forward, reaching out a hand toward the proprietor.

  "Thanks for your help, Oooo," he offered, hoping he hadn't just butchered the troll's name and caused offense.

  The big brute chuckled as he shook Pete's hand. "My name is not Oooo. It is Olan Olfen Olgen Olren. The name tag is taking the first letter of my names."

  Pete nodded, dreading the thought of having to remember and repeat back the string of names.

  "You can call me Olan," the troll said, releasing Pete's hand. "Or you can call me Oooo if you like. It does not matter to me."

  "Thanks, Olan," Pete said. "It's nice to meet someone who isn't trying to either kill us or fleece us."

  Olan nodded. "We are watching you, on the feeds, from the very beginning. We see you and Woe Binder and little Coop fighting to survive." He thumped a meaty fist against his chest, and the other employees behind him echoed the gesture.

  "It is reminding us of when Dominion came to our world many years ago and made us fight in the contest. Dark time. Very bad. So many of our people dying. Only some survive; some fight all the way to the end of the contest and win freedom for our people."

  The big troll shook his head, a look of sorrow coming over his face. "But it is not the same. Our people are living different lives now with Dominion. Harder lives."

  He seemed to remember himself, looking suddenly left and right. "But we are very grateful to Baron Belch for his goodness to us, for letting our people survive. It is not so bad in Dominion. We work hard and earn coin. It is a good life."

  Pete could sense the hollowness in the big troll's words, the hidden subtext that Olan couldn't speak out aloud.

  "Well, we're trying to do the same thing for our people," Pete said. "Win their freedom, I mean."

  "Yes, yes. And we are watching. We wish you success and are helping however we can, Vault Breaker." The big figure seemed to grow emotional as he reached out and put a hand on Pete's shoulder. "You are inspiring us. Reminding us of what is important, of what matters."

  Olan wanted to say more, Pete could tell, but it was too dangerous to do so. Instead, the big troll simply patted him on the shoulder and stepped back, stretching his hands out to either side.

  "We are making Jackpot good again. Better than good. We are making it the best."

  "See if you can add a little more speed too," Sam said with a grin. "And she veers a little to the right, so you might want to look at that."

  Olan nodded. "Yes, yes. We are fixing it all."

  They left the tent, with Sam turning to look one final time over her shoulder, something like sorrow on her face as though it was the last time she'd lay eyes on the vehicle.

  [Nero] I suggest you make your way to the exit, Pete. There is already a long line.

  "We need to pick up some more medkits," Sam suggested. "And see if there's anything else we can grab which might help."

  [Nero] There are several portable Vend-O-Matic machines stationed on either side of the line. You will be able to make whatever purchases you require whilst heading to the weapon farm.

  Pete nodded, steering the group forward. "Alright. Let's get going then, I suppose."