Soon they found a convenient spot for a late-night supper. It was a small clearing surrounded by open woodland and shrubs. Nura took charge of the preparations. Giving both her axes to Elanil and Gaspard, she sent them to gather firewood. She herself began rummaging the surrounding thickets in search of suitable herbs and berries to marinate the beetle meat. Soon, enough branches and brushwood were collected, and the meat, seasoned with herbs and soaked in limeberries, was laid out on broad rhubarb leaves, waiting to be cooked.

  A surprise awaited them later—it turned out that no one had matches or anything that could start a fire. The situation was made worse by the fact that everything was damp because of the fog. Until it dawned on Elanil that her [Explosive Arrow] ability dealt fire damage, so why not try it for practical purposes rather than combat?

  “Good idea,” Nura agreed, handing Elanil a birch log and adding, “Just do it away from here. I’ve seen these Explosive arrows of yours in action; you’ll blow up my firewood, and I’ve just finished setting everything up nicely.”

  Elanil and Gaspard retreated to the other end of the clearing. The latter flattened the grass to create a level surface, placed the log, and stepped away while Elanil drew the bowstring, activated the ability, and... when the smoke after the explosion settled down, the log’s remains glowed like black embers, surrounded by scorched grass.

  “Let’s try again. Just don’t aim directly at the log, but a little further away, so that only your Area of ??Effect hits it, not the arrow-projectile itself.” He went to the fire pit and retrieved another branch, placing it on the ashes left of the first explosion. After waiting for the cooldown to subside, Elanil fired a couple of steps away from the log. And this time, it worked.

  “Let there be light!” Gaspard immediately grabbed the burning branch, raised it above his head like a torch, and began running around the clearing with childish delight.

  “Hey, stop fooling around,” Nura grumbled. “Give me the fire, it’s time to cook.”

  Gaspard’s cheerful mood had completely returned, Elanil noted. But the striking contrast with his behavior when talking to the merchant nevertheless had prompted a multitude of questions, which had immediately descended on him as soon as they left the road. To which he replied with a smile that all talks would come later once they comfortably settled around the fire for the late night meal.

  Soon the fire was crackling merrily, hissing as the beetle juice dripped onto the hot coals. The smell wasn’t repulsive, Elanil even dared to admit it was appetizing. They sat around the fire on three logs—though it wasn’t cold, the heat of the fire contrasted pleasantly with the cool damp air of the night forest. Sparks from the burning logs occasionally shot up like fireworks and dissolved into the darkness. Contemplating this hypnotically calming view began to lull Elanil.

  “Now are you ready to tell us why you looked so humbled recently?” she asked Gaspard, trying to somehow dispel her drowsiness.

  “Well said, humbled,” Nura seconded as she cut up the roast beetle and handed out the pieces to her companions.

  Elanil took a bite. It turned out not as bland as she expected—somewhat reminiscent both of chicken and squid. The herbs gave it just the right amount of spice, while limeberries provided a hint of tartness and subtle sweetness at the same time.

  “It was so unexpected to see you behave this way,” Nura continued her thought after making sure the dinner was good to eat.

  “You speak as if you’ve known me for ages,” Gaspard chuckled.

  “Enough to understand that something was really out of place.”

  “Do I really look so predictable for you to understand my true nature in just one day of—”

  “Guys, for pity’s sake!” Elanil brought them back to the topic of their conversation.

  “Remember those riders?” Gaspard asked.

  “Sure,” Nura nodded. “You said that with their levels, it was no chance. What made you scared of them? I mean, yeah, it could be intimidating to stumble upon a someone for whom you are like a cockroach—they will smash you and not even notice, but to shake with horror?”

  “Are you not afraid of a prospect to get smashed like a cockroach, as you correctly put it?”

  “I am, but what’s the point? If they wanted to do it, whether we’re afraid of them or not, they would have done it. A waste of emotions, in other words.”

  “Hmm, such an interesting approach to life,” Gaspard said thoughtfully.

  “Take it for free, while I’m in a good mood.”

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  “I’ll think about it. Anyway, I’m not used to facing such danger head-on. I prefer steering clear of such characters, even if they aren’t hostile to me. Keep your distance from the powerful and choose your foes wisely, my motto.”

  “What a boring life yours must be!” Nura tilted her head.

  “Boring life lasts longer.”

  “Do you know who these riders are and why they are so powerful?” The last thing they needed was to slide into a duel of proverbs, Elanil thought.

  “I do,” Gaspard nodded. “They’re from Elkoas.”

  “Elkoas!” Nura almost yelled. “The legendary land of mighty warriors, and the monsters of unimaginable force and danger? I thought it was nothing but a myth!”

  “In your steppes, maybe.” Gaspard shook his head. “Truth be told, they are not frequent guests here either.”

  “But you’ve met them before, haven’t you?” Elanil remarked. “Or have you been to their country?”

  “No, I haven’t ventured that far east. And yes, I’ve seen them a couple of times. But I’m more concerned about who the two warriors accompanying them were. The Elkoas are rightfully considered the best bodyguards. I dread to even imagine how much such protection costs. Which means this merchant is far from the least important person in the Sublime Empire, to put it mildly. Or...”

  “Or there was someone else in the carriage,” Elanil finished his thought. She, too, had similar suspicions.

  “Exactly!” Gaspard nodded. “And you too noticed that interesting detail about his coachman, didn’t you?”

  “What was wrong with his coachman?” Nura asked.

  “It’s not a human,” Gaspard said. “It’s a construct.”

  He confirmed what Elanil suspected as well. The gauntlet, gleaming in the moonlight, struck her as odd, too narrow for even the smallest hand. Because, it turned out, it was actually a hand, a metal one.

  “Do you think there was someone from Mirdain in the carriage?” she shared her guess.

  “Who knows? Maybe the construct master. But then they would’ve probably given us this quest themself.” Gaspard rested his chin on his hand, while poking around in the fire with a stick. “Unless that construct master, or whoever it was, wished to remain undetected.”

  “Ah, so that’s why they chose the less crowded southern route,” Nura guessed. “To not attract attention. And that’s why they are traveling at night.”

  “I think so.”

  “But why did the merchant who accompanied this mysterious someone even stop to chat with us?”

  “I have no idea.” Gaspard shrugged. “This merchant is a rather strange fellow, but I’d like to mention something else. Did you notice the person sitting next to the coach—”

  “Do you know who that was?” Nura craved for direct answers, her curiosity couldn’t take one more leading question from Gaspard.

  “That’s the point, no. My skills in level, class and affiliation detection didn’t work at all with that whoever it was. I saw the riders’ and the merchant’s levels, and that they were people; I saw the coachman’s level, and that it was a construct. I even sensed the presence of someone else inside the carriage; more precisely, I saw that the area inside was undetectable. Someone wouldn’t cast such a spell unless they wanted to hide behind it, right? As for that other figure on the coach box—nothing, no level, not even whether they were a sentient being or a construct, a wild animal, or anything else. A blank slate. Or rather, a blind spot.”

  “Just to think, we’ve encountered a box of mysteries! And I didn’t even notice any of that,” Nura admitted.

  “That’s because you’re used to paying attention to the wrong things,” Gaspard grinned.

  Nura gave him a wry smile but didn’t engage in another bunter. “So, this merchant, or whoever else in the carriage, has two badass bodyguards, a construct coachman, and some completely enigmatic companion. They travel those paths to be as covert as possible—”

  “Portals!” Only now Elanil realized. “They didn’t use portals. The merchant said he was traveling from the Eastern Approach to the West. Why are they traveling by road if there are portals? Surely their reputation would allow them to use the network.”

  “Could be the opposite,” Gaspard noted. “Their reputation does make using the portals impossible.”

  “Court intrigues, or something even more twisted!”

  “And here I thought it was just some eccentric merchant,” Nura admitted.

  “Speaking of him,” Gaspard’s returned to the man. “He worries me the most now.”

  “I thought you were most frightened by those Elkoas riders—”

  “The riders galloped away, but what we let that merchant drag us into is now with us,” Gaspard countered.

  “You mean the quest?” Elanil clarified.

  Gaspard nodded. “Just to think, why would a merchant rushing about his important business in the middle of the night even stop to trade with some low-level nobodies? He clearly had a better understanding of all our stats than I did of his. Did you see his charisma?”

  Nura and Elanil shook their heads.

  “I did,” he continued. “With such a level, he could’ve taken all our belongings and even convinced us to pay him for them. On the contrary, he paid for the construct parts, and five times more than any other merchant or alchemist would’ve paid for them! Why such generosity, huh? By the way, he charged the regular price for the bombardier catalyst.”

  “Maybe he was in a good mood?” Nura suggested in a hesitant tone, obviously not believing her guess herself.

  “And then he gave us this artifact that locates the constructs we’re hunting now.” Gaspard continued without even bothering to taunt Nura’s naive ideas. “I have a feeling this late-night small talk will come back to haunt us many times.”

  “If you knew about this back there, on the road, why didn’t you talk me out of taking the quest?” Elanil frowned.

  “What’s the point? If we’d been stubborn, he would’ve used his charisma and convinced us to beg him for this damn quest ourselves.”

  “Listen, since this quest is so damned, let’s just abandon it,” Nura suggested. “Wasn’t you talking earlier today the same about the cow rescuing quest?”

  “Want to try it? Well, let’s do it,” Gaspard shrugged and turned to Elanil. “Give me that artifact.”

  Elanil opened her inventory and handed him the object. Gaspard stood up, tossed it in his palm, as if testing its weight, then threw it as if playing stone skipping. The artifact whistled through the air and hit the ground with a soft, dull thud somewhere far away in the bushes.

  “Here we go! That’s what I was talking about,” Nura smiled contentedly.

  “Look in your magic pocket again, Elanil,” Gaspard asked.

  Elanil opened her inventory and her eyes widened—the artifact was there again.

  “As I suspected. Some quests cannot be abandoned,” Gaspard remarked quietly. “So, we’ve allowed the powers of this world to drag us into this dance of elephants. Let’s do our best to avoid getting crushed by accident.”