Misadventures Incorporated

"Wow, that guy is kinda crazy, huh?" Sylvia snacked on a skewered fish as she watched the battle's conclusion. Duke Evander bounced off the walls and shredded the poor boy to bits, killing him a thousand times over in half a second. King Ragnar's magic was the only thing keeping him alive.

"I was under the impression that Lord Evander was meant to be a measured and methodical fighter," said Arciel.

"Pretty sure he was," said Jules. "You know, before."

After being raised above the arena, the group was relocated into a section meant exclusively for VIPs. Together with Virillius, Rubia, King Ragnar, and a handful of state guests and high-ranking officials, they watched the ring from a large glass box floating in the air. The room itself was angled downwards so that they were always facing the action. And though it spun around and sometimes left them horizontal, the people within it never suffered any discomfort.

The VIP booth had a gravitational redirector to ensure that the guests would feel exactly as they did without the change in orientation. And yet, somehow, it wasn't even the most impressive thing in the room. The whole VIP box was filled with the most luxurious items known to moosekind. There was a tap that could synthesize any sort of drink that one could possibly imagine and a machine that could synthesize any number of Cadrian meals. Both types of generated items were entirely illusory, meaning that they could be enjoyed without any concern for the state of one's liver or waistline. Though, if one did prefer real sustenance, it could easily be acquired by speaking to one the maids.

Anything demanded could be immediately swapped out, though it was rare for there to be any such ask in the first place. The chairs and tables were built out of the highest quality materials retrieved directly from the Langgbjern mountains and further enhanced with the ability to soothe, massage, and automatically adjust to one's comfort. And of course, the whole VIP box was well protected. There was an additional barrier identical to the one that surrounded the battleground, just in case an assassin decided to use the opportunity to make a statement.

Everyone in the arena had a clear view of the VIP guests in attendance, though the feed was neither live nor unedited. From the outside looking in, one would only see the all-important guests sitting in their seats and observing the battles as they chatted amongst themselves. The apparent structure was deceptive. According to the illusion, they sat in a line, facing the arena. But in reality, they freely arranged themselves throughout a rather large space, with reflections upon the walls so that one could see the battle from any angle they looked.

With the privacy protections in place, the extra viewing angles were a strict necessity. The room formed sound-isolating barriers around each group of guests, so that they could have private conversations without needing to worry about being overheard.

"He was definitely a lot calmer during the qualifiers. Maybe he's just mad he didn't make the cut," said Chloe.

"I don't think that's it," said Claire. "He has a weird status ailment."

"That's weird," said Sylvia. "The guy making artifacts hasn't really done anything with debuffs."

Claire gave the fox a silent, judging stare.

"W-what?"

"Nothing."

"It can't be nothing if you're staring at me like that!"

"It's nothing."

Claire turned her eyes back to the arena as the two fighters shook hands.

Octavia returned to the arena in the meantime and addressed the crowd with a smile.

"What a wonderfully brutal and inspiring battle. I can still feel the reverberations shaking through my legs!" she said. "As per tradition for high profile fights, we will now play it again in slow motion with commentary and analysis. Joining me for this special occasion will be a pair of local celebrities known for their combat expertise. Please welcome Tiberius the Undying and Throgg the Left. Tiberius, as many of you know, is the champion of the Valencian colosseum, while Throgg, often known as Throgg the Backsplitter, is second in command of the Blackshield Battalion, as well as the headmaster of the Royal Springblade Academy. I believe he was Lord Evander's teacher."

"I was," said Throgg, with a grunt. "And I can tell you, before we even dive into this analysis, that the cheeky little bastard still hasn't fixed his old habits."

The commentators continued to speak as they began to play back a slowed-down version of the fight, but Claire had long stopped paying attention.

She looked around the room. While most of the Cadrians had started chatting among themselves, everyone she wanted to talk to had returned their attention to the ring. The Vel'khanese fighters were taking notes, Rubia was laser-focused on the battle, and Sylvia had taken to explaining things to her whenever she asked. While Claire was happy to see the two getting along, it meant that she had nothing to do but sit around.

Her least busy associate was her father, but even he was stuck dealing with all the nobles that wanted his attention—not that she had any intention of speaking to him in public. Or private, for that matter. She wasn't really sure if there was anything to discuss. Gladora and Leutgar probably wouldn't have minded if she joined their conversation, but such an act amounted to confirming her identity, and she didn't really feel like doing that just yet.

So instead, she decided to abandon her post.

Opening a portal, she slipped out of the room and made her way into town.

The streets were almost shockingly empty. Guards, greedy businessmen, and foreigners made up the bulk of the people she saw. Most everyone else was in the colosseum; there were ten million bodies shoved into the space, which had grown and distorted to accommodate. Those that hadn't gotten tickets were still staring at the display. Projected up into the sky, there were only a few select places in town where one missed the opportunity to bear witness. And, in fact, most either directed their gazes skyward or at least actively listened to the ongoing commentary.

The few who didn't were watching Claire. The guards kept an especially careful eye upon her as she marched through the streets. It was hardly a surprise. Anyone even remotely interested in warfare, martial arts, or combat was at the colosseum. A fully armoured figure out in the streets was clearly someone suspicious, perhaps someone who had awaited the opportunity to launch an underhanded strike against an enemy or competitor.

The most intense gaze, however, belonged neither to the worried shopkeepers or the city's protectors, but rather, a man hovering in a distant alley. Meeting his glare, Claire found a grug who immediately beckoned her over with a wave of the webbed hand.

The frog-headed race was surprisingly common in Cadria. They even had their own district in Valencia, jam packed with facilities that focused on lightning-fast courses meant to impart them with the knowledge they needed to ascend before their bodies reached their limits. The beckoning man, however, was distinctly non-Cadrian. He was dressed in a white tuxedo beneath a cloak made from the skin of a deer. Neither style matched that of her countrymen, almost as clear of a giveaway as his bulky monocle.

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More importantly, Claire recognized him. She'd seen him hanging around in many of the nations that the brigade had passed, his presence only becoming more active following the death of Pollux's successor.

The man gestured at a nearby coffee shop when she got a little closer and quickly grabbed a table after she gave him a nod.

"Order anything you want. My treat," he said, as she sat down in front of him. His tongue was peculiar; it glowed with a faint golden light that almost appeared to resemble divinity. If not for that, he would have looked like any other unascended frog-man. He had an ordinary pair of orange cat ears, lime-green skin, and a perfectly average face.

"I don't really drink coffee," said Claire. "What do you recommend?"

"Let me see." He quickly scanned the menu before turning to the shopkeeper. "Hey, can we get two of the Creme D'epees?"

"Coming right up." The centaur quickly got to work, scooping a handful of beans out of a burlap sac and throwing them into a pan.

"What's that supposed to be?" asked Claire.

"No idea. I'm not much of a coffee guy either," said the grug. He paused for a second to look towards the arena. "I take it, you know who I am?"

"Not really," said Claire. "I know you've been following us."

"That's a surprise." He blinked before turning back towards her and resting his face on his clasped hands. "I always thought you were onto me, with how often you caught me watching."

Claire shrugged. She probably could have queried the system, but she didn't see much of a point. The man had his earnesty out on display.

"You can call me Relay," he said, after another pause. "I am… well, I was Ace's handler."

"Is that something you should be saying out loud?" Claire glanced at the storekeeper.

"He's one of us," said Relay.

"And by us, you mean…"

"We're from Veston, a nation on the continent's west coast," he said. "You can more or less think of us as another big nation that borders the alliance."

"Oh. I see," said Claire.

Relay pulled a cigar from within one of his pockets. He spent a few moments toying with it, but put it away as the shopkeeper delivered their coffee.

"Ace was a good man," he said, as he took a sip. "I know he didn't tell you much. But if you have questions, I'm happy to answer what I can."

Claire took a drink of her own as she chewed on the man's words. The coffee was surprisingly distracting. It wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world—its bitter base reminded her a little too much of liver—but it came with a number of curious subtle notes. She felt like she could taste cherry, chocolate, nutmeg, ginger and cinnamon mixed in with the base, and there were even a few notes of pumpkin and cardamom.

"I don't really have much," she said. "I respected him, but we weren't that close." Another sip. "I'm more interested in why you've bothered to approach me, knowing that the proper channels are readily accessible."

"Mostly for plausible deniability. The alliance would be all over our balls if they caught us sending Cadria an emissary, even more so if it was one we snuck in," he said. "Me talking to you makes it seem more like we're plotting with Vel'khan, which keeps with our apparent agenda and gets them off our backs."

"I'm not passing on any messages," said Claire. "Go find another errand girl."

"Wait, wait!" Relay stood up before Claire could leave. "Just hear me out. I'm not going to ask you to deliver any messages. I know you don't give a shit. That's kind of the point."

Claire paused for a second to stare at him before sitting back down with a sigh. "Fine."

"Whew," he sighed. "Anyway, I'm sure you know this, being Cadrian and all, but having the Obloyds as neighbours fucking sucks."

"They're pretty horrible," agreed Claire.

The alliance was known to absorb everything it could and conquer anything it couldn't. It often claimed that it only wished to be able to protect itself against the continent's other major powers, but in reality, it was just to funnel their resources into their rich central nations.

Cadria had long decided that it would have no part in the alliance's nonsense and had strictly cut off all forms of governmental interaction. And though some merchants would occasionally cross the border, the accompanying scrutiny turned most off from taking the risk. After all, anyone who seemed liable to leak Cadrian information was either denied, detained, or deleted. And even if they weren't, they often found themselves captured by the Alliance and interrogated for information. The only people who braved the mountains did it for the exorbitant profit that came with the risk. Collectors on both sides considered the other nation's goods exotic and highly desirable. Even the simplest Cadrian artifact could quintuple its value as soon as it crossed state lines.

It was only ever the Alliance that bothered with interrogation. Cadria was generally more skilled when it came to spy work and security and their agents had no problem crossing both sides of the border, but the Alliance's were typically eliminated the moment they attempted to relay any information or otherwise make their way home.

Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been completely unreasonable for one to expect that a complete information blackout was possible, and in fact, most Cadrian officials thought that the Alliance would know much more than it did.

Panda was the deciding factor. With his minions stationed along the entire border, he would capture and brainwash anyone that otherwise happened to slip through the cracks, albeit not to benefit his nation. He simply wasn't too fond of the additional variables wrought by the Alliance's schemes.

"Right, so believe it or not, they've actually been getting worse," said Relay. "They've yet to show Cadria their fangs just yet, but they've started throwing their weight around just about everywhere else." The frog emptied his mug and pursed his lips. "Normally, we'd just hit them back, but it's gotten a lot harder after they got their hands on an entire group of heroes."

"Heroes?" Claire tilted her head.

"Yeah, a whole swath of them." He twiddled his froggy thumbs. "It's what they've been calling all the aspects that've started popping up all over the alliance. The worst part is, no one has any real idea where they're all coming from. Some were clearly summoned from other worlds, but others seem to be homegrown. We've been able to track down their histories and hear more about them from people who've known them for years."

"Becoming an aspect isn't nearly as hard as people make it seem," said Claire.

"Right…" The frog gave her a bit of a look.

"It's only in the past few hundred years or so that we've been so deprived of them. They weren't too uncommon before my father decided to murder them all for experience."

"Fair enough, I guess." Relay popped a smoke between his lips. "But still, there are way too many of them popping up for it to be normal. My guess is it won't be long before they launch an attack. Maybe a few months, maybe a year. Either way, soon."

"If they're smart, they'll do it while I occupy my father. It's their only real chance."

"Yeah, I don't doubt that," he said. "I know you don't give a shit about Cadria, but I figure you'll probably want to wipe them all out just for the free experience, kind of like what your father did, back in the day."

Claire shook her head. "No point. They'd give next to nothing."

"You sure? We're talking about aspects here."

"They'd have to be celestials at least if they wanted to be worth more than a drop." An overall lack of experience was the main reason that Claire had eventually stopped fighting the equitaur. Even its supposedly guaranteed gains had ultimately slowed to a trickle once the beast lost the ability to match her.

She had even paid Vella's prison another visit, but not even her captives had provided a satisfying rate of improvement. There was no way some freshly ascended idiot from the Alliance was going to give her any trouble.

"Alright, if you say so." The frog got up from his chair and extended an arm. "Anyway, it was nice to finally talk to you face to face. Stop by if you ever want to get in touch, and the shopkeep will pass on the message."

Nodding, Claire took his hand and gave it a shake.

When he left, she was left reminiscing by her lonesome.

It'd been a long time since she last thought of Ace.

It was a shame.

Had he still been alive, he might have wound up as one of the brigade's more powerful members.