Whatever Soren had sacrificed to pull away the soldiers’ attention, it seemed to have done the trick. The sound of voices drifting through the night air remained distant as the party, now with rescued prisoners in tow, snuck out into the empty street and scurried away. The smell of smoke permeated the air, carrying with it an unidentifiable tang unlike anything Nil or Dahlia had smelled before. 

Houg’s workshop was as dark and quiet as they had left it as Soren gently pushed through the back door, motioning the others to follow. Before he could make it two steps inside, a shadow leapt from behind the door, moonlight glinting off of something held in its upraised fist.

“Uncle Houg, wait!” Soren yelped, “It’s me! It’s us! We’re all right!”

The figure stumbled into the dim light cast through the doorway, revealing the spindly old orc with a bladed carving tool clutched in his hand. Houg’s eyes were wide and fevered – he looked from his nephew to the cluster of people crowded behind him in disbelief.

Marlisse flashed a grin. “Hey there, old man.”

Houg abruptly threw his arms around Soren, letting the improvised weapon clatter to the ground at his feet. “You idiot boy,” he grunted in a thick voice, “I was sure I wouldn’t see any of you again. Not alive.” The old orc stepped back, hands still clasped on Soren’s shoulders, and looked over the crowd. “Thundering Hells, you actually did it. How the fuck did you manage that?”

Soren reached up to squeeze his uncle’s forearm, guiding him from the doorway as he turned to beckon the gaggle of newly-released prisoners inside. “I’ll, uh…I’ll give you all the details, but for now I’ve got a whole mess of our neighbors here that probably haven’t had a decent meal in days. Let’s get them settled in, yeah?”

Without his permanent frown, the old sculptor almost looked like a different person as he craned his neck to survey the rescues. “Right, right. ‘Course. Tell you what, give me Vonne and take everybody else downstairs. I’ll see what I can scrape together.”

Soren nodded and gave a thumbs up over his shoulder; the drow nodded in turn and stepped past him to follow Houg deeper into the shop. 

“Alright, folks.” Soren said, sidling over to pull open the basement trapdoor, “Right down here.” He stepped down and out of sight, leaving the group to file down after him. They did so, and a few moments later the entire party stood in the basement, most of them looking around in mild puzzlement. 

“The hell is all this, Soren?” Said an older human man in rumpled work overalls. “Some kinda clubhouse?”

“It’s not a clubhouse-” 

“Yeah, no, that’s pretty much exactly what it is.” Marlisse interjected. She put both hands to the small of her back and stretched until there was an audible crack before ambling over to drop herself into one of the mismatched chairs. 

“-It’s a hideout,” Soren continued, glaring at her, “and probably the only reason we didn’t end up crammed in that cell with the rest of you. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

“Oi, speaking of gratitude.” Marlisse said, “You still ain’t introduced us to your extremely interesting new friends, boss.”

As one, the crowd turned toward the two women standing at the back of the room. Dahlia raised a hand and smiled sheepishly. “Heyo.”

“Hey, yeah.” The old man said. “I’m as happy as anybody else to be above ground again, but what in the Hells do you think you’re doing, elf? Did you bring this freak here?”

Dahlia’s smile faltered – she noticed Nil’s ears twitch. 

“First of all,” Soren jabbed a finger in the emberling’s direction, “without that freak you’d still be sitting in that cell with mildew growing in your socks. Second, I didn’t bring anyone anywhere, and I’m not such a fool that I would have anything to do with a rogue Mage. Dahlia and Brinya here are Travelers, Gulsef. And if you had seen the way they’ve conducted themselves since arriving in town, you might show a little more respect.”

Gulsef scoffed, glancing skeptically in Nil’s direction. “Ain’t no gobs in the Travelers’ Guild.”

“Actually,” Bobbi piped up, “there are at least three. The Guild started admitting us a couple years back. Er, well… I guess one of them died, so two.” She scratched the back of her head awkwardly before suddenly brightening. “Oh, but I didn’t even know about Miss Brinya until today, so that makes three again!”

It was clear from the stink-eyed look on old Gulsef’s face exactly what he thought of goblins being allowed such prestige. “What are you, an enthusiast?”

“Yup!” Bobbi chirped, either missing the man’s mocking tone or ignoring it. “Ol’ Bobbi knows everything there is to know about the Guild, er…broadly speaking.”

“Happy now?” Soren said. “If not, I’m sure we can arrange to get you right back in that cell.”

Gulsef grumbled something unsavory, but wandered away to find himself a seat without any further fuss. 

“Great. But Gulsef is right, you all deserve an explanation, so here it is. This morning, a good-sized crowd gathered outside the Delegate’s gate…”

***

“You’re kidding.” Marlisse leaned forward, resting pale, scarred forearms on her knees. “We were only down there a few days, how could things have gone south so quickly?”

Soren shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know. Maybe getting the Mountaineers out of the way was part of the plan. Point is, people are dead. And it would’ve been a lot worse if not for Dahlia here.” 

A dozen heads swiveled toward the emberling, who stiffened like a schoolchild being called upon for a subject she had not studied. She smiled crookedly and began to open her mouth. 

“An act that came at the cost of great personal peril, for both of us.” Nil said, stepping forward before Dahlia could begin stammering. “To say nothing of rescuing a bunch of what seem to be frankly ungrateful criminals from lawful detainment. And I would like to remind you, Soren, that that endeavor came with an agreement.”

“Of course.” Soren said. “Of course. I haven’t forgotten, but…”

Marlisse turned a skeptical look on him. “What kinda agreement was that, boss?”

The elf cleared his throat uncertainly. “Brinya and Dahlia can’t report to the Guild if they’re stuck here with the rest of us. So, in exchange for their help breaking you all out, I volunteered the Mountaineers to help get them out of town.”

“Well.” Marlisse said, snorting derisively, “That shit ain’t gonna happen.”

Nil glanced sharply in the woman’s direction. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, Squeaky.” Marlisse gestured lazily at Bobbi. “You wanna tell them what you told us?”

Bobbi looked up with a start, seeming to begin sweating almost instantly. “Oh, um. Well, you know, us goblins, we hear pretty good, which a lot of longlegs…er, a lot of not-goblins tend to forget.” Bobbi looked down and clasped her hands, pushing her stubby thumbs together rhythmically. “So anyway, I heard some of the soldiers talking about what happened this morning and um, well…th-they made it sound like things around here are about to get a lot worse…”

“Greenskin’s avoiding the point, which is that Gilveer’s about to put Kaldemere on lockdown.” Marlisse said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Triune Sanction. In other words, nobody’s leaving town without the Delegate’s say-so. And given that everybody in this room is now considered some stripe of criminal…”

“So we’re stuck here.” Nil said. Dahlia could hear the carefully restrained anger thrumming under the goblin’s tone. “I am…very disappointed, Mr. Morrelath. Needless to say this will make reporting the truth of Kaldemere’s situation to the Guild quite difficult.”

“Yeah, you’ll have to forgive our esteemed leader.” Marlisse drawled, shooting a loose grin in Soren’s direction. “Got a bad habit of doing first and thinking later.”

“Thanks, Marlisse,” Soren said sarcastically, “great to have you back. But she’s right. I may have promised more than we can…immediately deliver. But it was never my intention to deceive you, I swear that.”

“So now what?” Gulsef said. He had evidently elected himself the voice of discontent. “We all sit around your basement waiting to starve? Or for the Watch to find us again? Damn fine rescue you’ve organized here, Morrelath.”

“Oh, come off it, you sour old bastard.” A young halfling man said. “Hell of a lot better than standin’ around in our own piss waitin’ to get hanged.”

“You watch your mouth, you little shit!” Gulsef stood up from his chair with an air of menace. “It’s you lot of troublemakers that got us into this mess in the first place! If you had just done your job instead of skulking around at night…defacing Triumvirate property…!”

Another citizen stepped forward to join the argument, then another, and in the space of a few seconds almost the entire room was shouting at one another, pointing fingers and hurling accusations. 

“We could have avoided all of this,” Nil said under her breath, “if you’d just minded your business. Now look at us. A day wasted on pointless risks, and nothing to show for it but this.”

The emberling did not respond, which, in Nil’s limited experience, was unusual. She looked up to see a sober, thoughtful expression on Dahlia’s face, her hands curled into loose fists at her sides. She was watching the unfolding argument attentively, eyes shifting rapidly around the room as new voices entered the squabble. 

“Dahlia,” Nil said slowly, “whatever it is you’re thinking about doing right now, don’t.”

“I want to help.” Dahlia said, projecting her voice to snare the attention of everyone present. She took two strides forward, placing herself in almost the center of the dirt floor. The clamor of voices died down to stunned silence almost instantly. 

Gulsef scoffed. “And how are you going to do that, hellspawn?”

She didn’t look at him. “Any way I can. We’re stuck here, aren’t we? Maybe dead if those soldiers find us?” Her gaze swung to Soren. “Then there’s no reason to sit around waiting. So, what can we do?”

Soren ran a hand through his hair. “Miss Scratch, I…thank you, truly, but I don’t know. Sending the two of you for help from the Guild seemed like our last hope, I mean…we can’t fight them, we can’t run away, I…” His face went a few shades paler. “Maybe if I…turned myself in, everyone else could…”

“Nah, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Dahlia stepped toward the elf, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s idiot loser talk, and I don’t wanna hear it. Think, Blondie. Anything, doesn’t matter how crazy and stupid it seems. In fact, the crazier and stupider the better.” She grinned her saw-toothed grin. “Because you’ve got Dahlia Scratch on your side.” 

The elf looked up, roused from whatever spiral he had been about to descend into. “I…the only other possibility would be-”

The trapdoor slammed open, drawing the room’s attention toward the stairs. Houg stomped down and onto the dirt floor and looked around for a moment before honing in on Soren, a falcon spying a rabbit on an open plain. He carried a single bowl of soup. Behind him came the dwarf Jonar, lugging a large, steaming pot and looking slightly put out – Vonne followed after, holding stacks of mismatched bowls. 

“Jonar!” Soren cried, his face lighting up in a smile, “You’re back! Did everything go…uh, uncle?”

Houg’s face was dark with fury as he advanced on the elf, the wooden bowl gripped in his gnarled fingers like a weapon. Before Soren had any chance to prepare himself, the old man reeled back and flung the soup at his nephew, bowl and all. Soren yelped, almost tripping backwards over himself as a spray of watery stew hit him in the chest. 

Dahlia blinked as her face was dappled with backsplash, smile still frozen in place. 

“What in the blessed fuck is wrong with you?!” Houg cried hoarsely, skinny ribcage heaving. “You – you didn’t burn down the storehouse. Tell me you didn’t. Tell me Jonar is lying to me for the first time in his idiot life.”

Behind him, the dwarf winced. 

“It was…all I could think to do.” Soren said, half-dazed. “The only thing important enough to pull all of them away at once…”

A low hum of murmuring voices gathered around the room. 

“Of course it was, you empty-headed…” Houg shook himself and grabbed Soren by the front of his shirt. “It was everything! To us, to them, to this whole town! How long do you think it’s going to take to replenish that much godstone? Months? Years? You’ll starve us all out before then!”

“We’re starvin’ anyway, old man.” Marlisse said. “Gilveer’s been paying less for more every month, you know that. Ain’t as if we all joined Soren’s little boys’ club for the fun of it.”

“Yeah,” someone piped up, “all that rock was pretty much lost to us anyway, ‘less we were gonna try and steal it back. If the Watch is out here killin’ folks now, who’s to say we weren’t gonna be next?”

A murmur of assent buzzed around the edges of the room; Soren gave a grateful glance for those who seemed to be taking his side. He reached out to put his hand on Houg’s bony shoulder. 

“Uncle, listen. I know how badly you want things to go back to the way they were. We all do. But if we’re going to get out from under this, someone has to do something. We’ve tried putting our heads down and hoping for things to get better long enough to know it isn’t going to work.” Soren grimaced, turning an apologetic look on those assembled. “I thought I had an answer for that, but now I’m not so sure. I’m sorry, everyone.”

Dahlia reached up to pluck a noodle from the crook in her horn and popped it into her mouth. “I think I’ve got an idea.” She said, chewing. 

Soren’s eyebrows went up. “You do?”

“Mhm. This Delegate guy, he’s pretty important, right? Tells all these soldier types where to jump and how high?”

“Among other things.” Marlisse said. “Basically owns Kaldemere at this point.”

“Well, that’s easy then. You don’t need to fight anybody or sneak anybody out of town – you just need to get your hands on this Gilveer fella.”

“Get our hands on…?” Soren said, expression turning quizzical. 

“Yeah, you know.” Dahlia mimed snatching something out of the air, grinning brightly. “Nab ‘im. Hostage situation. Then you just threaten to, y’know, pop his eyeballs or pull out all his toenails or whatever and he’ll tell his goons to do whatever you want ‘em to do.”

A stunned silence fell over the room. 

“Soren, where did you find this girl?” Marlisse asked incredulously. 

“No, she might have a point.” Vonne said. “It isn’t as if we could fight the platoon, and it’s safe to say diplomacy is off the table. But if we got Gilveer alone, maybe we could…I don’t know, scare him a little, if nothing else…”

“Right!” Dahlia said, thrusting an emphatic finger in Vonne’s direction. “What he said. Let’s not sweat the details.”

Gulsef came to his feet. “This is insane. You can’t actually be considering going along with this girl’s plan, this is…you’re talking about open rebellion against the Triumvirate!”

“No.” Soren shook his head gravely. “No, I’m telling you, the blame for all of this lies at Gilveer’s door – the extortion, the murders, all of it. If we can capture him, force him to confess his corruption to the Chancellor somehow, the Holy Edict will see that we have acted in faith. I have to believe that.”

“I don’t give a damn what you believe, elf. I’m not going to sit here while you and some zyv outsider plan treason. I’m going home.” Gulsef took a moment to spit noisily onto the dirt floor before he stalked off, making his way for the trapdoor. 

Soren sighed heavily. “Corgan. Stop him, please.”

The big man stepped into Gulsef’s path, prompting him to let loose a stream of colorful language and whirl on Soren, face rapidly shifting from pink to red. “So, what, now we’re your prisoners?! You got no fuckin’ right to keep me here, so tell your man to get the hell outta my way!”

Soren opened his mouth to respond, but Houg beat him to the punch. “Obviously they can’t just let ya go traipsing across town, ya rotting old fool.” He snapped. “What the hell d’you think’s gonna happen if the Watch finds you rockin’ on your porch after all this shit? Now quit your moaning and sit your ass back in that chair.”

Paling as if he’d been slapped, Gulsef opened and closed his mouth a few times before hanging his head and trudging back to slump into his seat. The old man grumbled something inaudible, but seemed to have otherwise lost the spirit to make a nuisance of himself. Soren gave Houg a surprised look.

“Thanks for that, uncle.” He said. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ start.” Houg grumbled. “I still think you and your little band of criminals just dug us all a grave too deep to climb out of. But if this girl’s got any kind of a plan, I’d rather hear it than not, seeing as we’re all probably dead anyway.”

“I dunno if I’d go so far as to say plan,” Dahlia said, “but schemes, I got plenty of those. Where’s that map you showed us before, Blondie?”

Nil breathed deeply through her nose, in and out, in and out, in…and out. Red seethed at the edges of her vision, her mind boiling with plan after plan for how she would enact her revenge on Dahlia, each more convoluted and painful than the last. 

She had slipped away from the rest and retreated upstairs, because if she was forced to spend one more moment among these useless people and their insipid bickering, Nil might have had no choice but to scream. Luckily, a small storeroom tucked away in the back of Houg’s workshop provided the perfect nook for a goblin to secret herself away in. Like many of her species, Nil found comfort in small, dark spaces like this one – if not for the irritating babble of voices drifting up through the floorboards, she could almost have closed her eyes and let the entire world fade away, forgotten. Wouldn’t that be lovely.

Someone was coming. Nil sat up a little straighter, ears perking over her shoulders. The intruder moved quietly, barely creaking against the dusty floor, which meant they were either exceptionally stealthy or quite small. 

Oh, Nil thought, and a moment later a large, luminous pair of eyes poked through the doorway. 

“Hello, Bobbi.” Nil said in a flat voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, heh,” Bobbi made a sound like a nervous, snorting chuckle, “I thought I might find you up here, Miss Brinya. You, um.” She held up a small wooden bowl. “You forgot your soup.”

Nil looked at the bowl as if she had just been offered a damp sock. The smell wasn’t far off, in her estimation. “I can assure you that I did not.”

“Oh! Um. In that case, you don’t mind if I…” Bobbi’s eyes flickered from Nil to the bowl in her hands several times in quick succession. 

“By all means, be my guest.”

“Oh man, thanks.” Bobbi raised the bowl to her lips for a long, noisy slurp. “Whew! Gotta take what you can get when you’re on the road all the time.” She blinked. “Er, well, I guess you would know that.”

“Indeed.” Nil said, completely without inflection. With enough stonewalling, perhaps her obnoxious new friend would take the hint and go away. 

Bobbi did not go away. Instead, she hovered awkwardly in the doorway, biting her lip and taking tiny sips from her bowl. 

“…Is there something I can do for you, Bobbi?” Nil said at last. 

“Oh, uh, me? Nahhhh. No, I just…” She bit her lip again, eyes drifting as she searched for the words. “There’s just not a lot of us out here, you know? Outside of the big cities, I mean. I do a lot of traveling, so I’m…i-it’s just good to see a gyela, you know?” Bobbi’s eyes brightened. “A-and a Traveler, too! You must be really incredible to make it into the Guild despite…um, you know. So I just, um, sort of figured that if we’re really gonna be stuck here for a while, I thought I would… you know, say hello.”

Nil’s hooded gaze lingered on her for a few seconds, impassive. “You called yourself a traveling merchant, yes? Dangerous profession. Particularly for one of us.”

“Yeah, well,” Bobbi smiled, embarrassed, “what I really wanted was to be like you, but…you can probably guess how that went. But I’ve always been good at finding bits and bobs people seem to want, and as long as I get to go out and see the world…that’s pretty close, right?”

“Mm.” Nil nodded quietly as she drew herself to her feet. She brushed a bit of dust from her skirt, adjusted her sleeves for a moment and looked Bobbi straight in the eye. “You’re quite stupid, aren’t you?”

Bobbi’s crooked smile shattered and fell away. “I…w-what?”

“I’m calling you a simpleton. Someone unequipped with the mental faculties she ought to have before being allowed to exercise personal responsibility. The ways you and I are alike begin and end with our species.” Nil spoke every word with a matter-of-fact casualness that served to amplify its cruelty. “I do not require your kinship, nor do I intend to be stuck anywhere.” 

Nil moved to shoulder her way past where Bobbi stood in the doorway, stunned. As she did so, the witch leaned in to speak quietly into Bobbi’s ear. 

“Let me give you some advice, Bobbi. In the off chance you make it out of here alive, go back to whatever empty little life it is you’re running away from. This world has nothing for you to see beside the underside of some longlegs’ boot, and that is if you are lucky. Excuse me.”

With that, Nil slipped past and sauntered away. Bobbi was still standing there, staring into the empty shadows of the storeroom when she heard the basement door open and close. 

“Oh, hey N-…Brinya!” Dahlia said, looking up as Nil entered. She, Soren, and most of the Mountaineers were huddled around a circular table. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to.”

“Anklebiter gets to come and go as she pleases.” Gulsef grumbled, just loud enough for Nil to hear.

She ignored him entirely. “Just out for a moment of fresh air, love. It’s a bit musty down here. And loud. But you’ll be happy to know that I am reasonably sure neither the main party nor the dwarf were followed back to this location.” Nil gave Soren a faint smile. “I could not help but notice the lack of any posted lookout.”

Soren squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing. “You know, now that you mention it…”

“I’ll take care of it.” Corgan grunted, turning to clump his way up the steps and out of sight. 

Nil trotted over to the table, hopping up to stand on one of the chairs to get a better view. “So what’s all this, then? Has one of you come up with a way out of this dreadful ordeal?”

“That would be your mage, actually.” Marlisse said, nodding toward Dahlia. “Dahlia here has a pretty, ah…colorful imagination.”

The emberling’s eyes gleamed, her grin nearly touching her ears. She seemed to be very much enjoying the attention. “So this Delegate guy, the Mountaineers aren’t the only ones who hate him – just the only ones mad enough to do something about it.”

“If you can call a few acts of petty thievery and some strongly-worded graffiti ‘doing something’, sure.” Marlisse said. 

“Gotta start somewhere.” Dahlia replied cheerfully. “Anyway, point is that Soren thinks there should be enough anti-Gilveer sentiment, particularly after the, uh…”

“The murders.” Nil finished for her, deadpan. 

Dahlia snapped her fingers. “Right. After that, for us to stir up a bit of civil unrest.”

“Gilveer is a coward.” Soren said. “He’s barely shown his face for months. If we can make it seem like Kaldemere is about to revolt before his soldiers can kick us into submission, I think there’s a good chance he’ll go into hiding, or even try to sneak out of town entirely. With some careful planning and a bit of luck, that’s when we’ll be able to grab him.”

Nil raised an eyebrow. “Hope and luck are not generally words that fill me with confidence.”

The elf gave a pained smile. “We do have a little more than that to rely on.” He nodded toward the stairs. “Corgan used to be Watch, way back. Used to be on pretty good terms with a few of the lads in this regiment, too, back when things were…better. He thinks he might be able to find one or two who aren’t enthusiastic about the way things are going. Maybe get some info on what Gilveer’s going to do before he does it.”

“So the idea,” Dahlia said, leaning over to point at several places on the map spread more or less as far apart as possible, “Is to find a few people willing to break some stuff. Set a little fire here and there, smash some windows, small stuff. But enough to make it look like the town’s really going crazy. Civil unrest, y’know. Then, when the big man spooks,” she punched a fist into her palm, “we nab him.”

Nil spent a moment running a skeptical eye over the map. “Fine. I suppose it’s a better plan than sitting around waiting for the Watch to start searching house to house. What’s our role in all this?”

“To be honest,” Soren said, rubbing at the stubble along his jaw, “I want to keep the two of you out of harm’s way as much as possible. You’re still Kaldemere’s best bet for pleading our case when all this is over.”

“N-now hold on!” Dahlia put both hands on the table indignantly, tail lashing the air behind her. “This is my plan. No way I’m hiding in a basement while all the fun stuff happens!”

“That’s exactly what you’ll do, young lady, and not another word about it.” Nil leveled a stern claw in Dahlia’s direction. “And try to keep in mind that that ‘fun stuff’ has a chance of costing these good people their lives. Have some decorum.” She put on a plaintive smile. “Apologies, again, for my associate’s behavior.”

Soren cracked a smile, turning to Dahlia. “It’s quite alright. Really, we couldn’t have gotten away with any of this without your help, miss Scratch. If any of us make it out of this in one piece, it’ll be because of you.”

Dahlia’s face twitched minutely, as if the emberling had bitten into something sour and was trying not to react. She nodded with a stiff, wooden motion, clearing her throat. “Uh, yeah. Well, anything for the people, you know. Hey, I think I just realized how absolutely bushed I am – think I might take you up on one of those cots, if that’s alright…?”

“By all means, please.” Soren swept a hand toward the three threadbare mattresses tucked into the back corner of the room. “We’ve had you two running around town all day, after all. 

“As for the rest of you,” he went on, addressing the Mountaineers, “looks like we might have an all-nighter on our hands. No reason to put it off any further. Jonar, I want you to head down to Tailor Street – you know the Sawleigh clan better than anyone else. Marlisse, I need you to…”

The sound of Soren’s voice trailed off as he and his band of amateur revolutionaries climbed the steps and ventured out into the night once more. Meanwhile, a somewhat dazed-looking Dahlia pushed away from the table and wandered off toward the back of the room, sitting heavily on one of the cots. It squealed in protest. Nil watched her go, curious, hopping down from her perch to follow soon after. 

“We’ve got to get out of here soon.” Dahlia muttered as she drew near. “The great and terrible Dahlia Scratch’s flame grows stagnant and guttering.”

“I do wish you would stop referring to yourself in the third person.” Nil said, hoisting herself atop the next bed. “Being around you is embarrassing enough as it is. And if you had just minded your own business, like I told you, we could have put this place miles behind us by now.”

“Yeah.” Dahlia said. She was practically sulking. “Never been very good at that.”

Nil watched the emberling in silence for a moment. “What’s the matter with you, anyway?”

“Huh?” Dahlia looked up suddenly. “Nothing. I’m the same as always.”

“Blatantly false. You started acting strange the moment that moony-eyed elf began showering you with praise.”

“Yeeaaahh, sorry, no idea what you’re talkin’ about.” The emberling sat up a little straighter. “In fact, I feel great! Just look at all the trouble we’ve stirred up since we got here! Heck, Soren and his bunch are on the edge of kidnapping a Triumvirate official, which is basically full-scale revolt!” The light of excitement began to grow freshly in Dahlia’s eyes, her volume increasing as she spoke. “After that it’ll be chaos! Mayhem in the streets! Anarchy!”

Dahlia was on her feet now, almost shouting, one hand dramatically upraised in a claw. Several of the rescued townsfolk were looking curiously in their direction. 

“Keep your voice down, idiot!” Nil hissed. “If you blow our cover now after all we’ve been through, I swear to you-”

Dahlia sat back down with an almost startling quickness, hardly seeming to notice the reproach. “Hey. How old are you?”

Nil rolled her eyes with frustration. “What in the world does that have to do with anything?”

“You called me ‘young lady’ earlier.” Dahlia squinted. “But I think we’re the same age.”

“It’s a turn of phrase. And your behavior was childish, as I am learning is often the case.”

“Sure. I still want to know.”

The goblin sighed, letting her head droop. “How old are you, Dahlia?”

“Twenty-four.” She replied without hesitation. 

Nil smiled thinly. “Well then, to answer the spirit of your question, I am in fact your senior. So you might consider listening to me more often.”

“Uugghh.” Dahlia threw her hands behind her head and let herself flop down onto the mattress. “Getting a straight answer out of you is like pulling teeth, you know that?”

Nil settled back into her own cot, gingerly pulling at a corner of the rough blanket toward her face for a sniff. She wrinkled her nose. “I am aware, yes. Now try and get some rest. Likely as not one of those pickaxe jockeys is going to screw up and lead those soldiers straight to us, and I would personally rather not die sleepy.”