Category: The Three Realms (Book 2: The Rise of Living Metal)

Foresna drummed his fingers on his table at Barmek’s. Recent events were making him worried. “Someone looks unhappy,” rumbled a voice. Foresna glanced up to see Gorfanth standing by the table. “May I?” asked Gorfanth. Foresna nodded and Gorfanth sat near Foresna. “You look like something’s weighing on your thoughts, Farm Boy,” mused Gorfanth.

“It’s been at least a few days since the incident with the Scale-sword,” remarked Foresna. “Five Realmfleet officers who died last year came back to life, fought Arsha, then betrayed their master and helped Arsha, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of them!”

“They went with Orbak after he arrested Torsko,” explained Gorfanth. “They’re trying to find a way to rest in peace again.”

“We could really use the Revenants in the coming fight!” protested Foresna.

“With Oyed supposed to come?” asked Gorfanth. “Foresna, that’s way too risky. For all we know, the Titan could bring them under his control. Talking to him IS a part of creating a Revenant.”

“And that’s another thing!” grumbled Foresna. “We’re taking a fleet of ships to fight the Titan himself! The future’s looking a little bloody!”

“‘Obsessing over a potential bad future does not change it’,” quoted Gorfanth.

“Neither’s accepting our fate of fighting the Final War in our lifetime!” argued Foresna.

“I’m not,” answered Gorfanth, “but we can’t change a future we don’t fully know. The Divine Ones will guide us.”

“Can we trust them right now?!” demanded Foresna. “It looks like they’re going to get us killed!” His attention was then grabbed by an Elf woman sneaking by the restaurant’s door. “Hey, is she a member of the crew?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” replied Gorfanth. “Come on.” He and Foresna followed her through the ship until they reached the Mana Stores.

“Well now,” mused the Elf, Sorsha, “I think I can get some of this to…”

“Excuse me!” called a security Elf. Sorsha yelped as she turned around to see him. Foresna and Gorfanth also made their presence known by clearing their throats.

“…Could have sworn I cast all sorts of stealth spells,” muttered Sorsha.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” demanded the security Elf.

“Aren’t you gonna ask them too?!” asked Sorsha as she pointed to Foresna and Gorfanth.

“…They’re the Captain’s fiancés,” replied the security Elf. “Most likely, they followed you at some point.”

“…Okay, I need your mana stores,” explained Sorsha.

“With a battle coming up? No way!” snapped the security Elf.

“I have a blight to take care of,” growled Sorsha, “and I can’t do that without mana!”

“Well, we have a battle with Oyed and his forces,” snarled Gorfanth as he summoned a massive axe over his head. He held it in one hand.

“…Er, you know, I think I’ll just leave,” gulped Sorsha, not feeling brave enough to take on an armed, adult Minotaur. “Good luck in the fight.” She cast a teleport spell and vanished in orange light.

“Thank you, Mr. Steelhorn,” bid the security Elf.

“That’s gonna be 20 golds,” remarked Foresna.

“Wha…no way!” argued Gorfanth. “The bet was if Oyed would send an assassin to kill Arsha! She was just interested in the ship’s mana stores!”

“Semantics,” countered Foresna. Gorfanth rolled his eyes as he dismissed the axe.

---

Arsha was in her Ready Room, setting her head for the coming fight. She was sure that more would die than on Reb’s island. As of now, she was thinking of a way to keep the casualties down as much as possible. Her thoughts were interrupted by the door chime. “Come in,” she called. Falheem then entered the room. “Lady Falheem!” yelped Arsha.

“Peace, Arsha,” replied Falheem. “I just came to check on you, see how you were doing.”

“…If I tell you the truth, you need to promise that it never leaves this room unless at my discretion,” sighed Arsha.

“That serious, I see,” mused Falheem. She snapped her fingers. “We’ll only be interrupted for emergencies and what we discuss will not go beyond the door. You have the solemn promise of Falheem, the Second Black Divine One of Ending.” With the Oath of the Ones spoken, Arsha began.

“Is it bad that I feel like this shouldn’t be happening at all?” she asked.

“The feeling itself isn’t bad,” replied Falheem, “the actions you take because of that feeling are what are judged.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” assured Arsha, “I want to help you guys take down Oyed and imprison him in the After-realm, but I feel like he shouldn’t have broken out in my lifetime.”

“He shouldn’t have, no,” remarked Falheem. “We were trying to keep his prison secure so he wouldn’t break out until, at least, the Third Age has lasted 50 more millennia.”

“It’s just…” Arsha floundered for a bit, moving her hands to find the right words. She finally sighed, giving up. “I don’t know. Lately I’ve been wishing it were Reb Rojam I was fighting or the Splitters.”

“…I know the feeling,” sighed Falheem. “For us Divine Ones, it would be a lot simpler if our enemies were mortals. But life is rarely that simple.”

“Yeah,” sighed Arsha. They sat in silence for a few seconds.

“…If I may change the topic for a minute,” mused Falheem, “what happened to Reb and Melgem?”

“They’re serving a life sentence now,” replied Arsha. “Without them, the Scarlet Stream Pirates would have been directionless.”

“…Would have been?” repeated Falheem. “What do you mean?”

“Rochak’s gathered mutineers and threw in his lot with Dr. Borg,” explained Arsha.

“What in the Realms for?!” yelped Falheem.

“They think profit’s in their future,” replied Arsha.

“With Oyed?! That’s a load of rubbish!” snapped Falheem. “Who are these people and why is Oyed associating with them?!” She took in a breath before continuing. “All right, let’s forget about Oyed’s current followers, let’s talk about his previous ones. How did you know to trust the Realmfleet Revenants?”

“During their accusations,” explained Arsha, “Eltan spoke to me over mental channels. I DID inherit the Kitsunes’ lack of mental powers, but I managed to piece together what their real intentions were, so I got everyone to play along.”

“Thank goodness,” sighed Falheem. “Who knows what could have happened if they actually DID join with Dr. Borg?”

---

Speaking of a certain Cyborg Sprite, she was busy drafting up a proposal for materials for a new machine. As she worked, she heard a knock on the door. “Enter,” she directed. Tormo then came in. “What can I do for you?” asked Dr. Borg.

“It’s about what Oyed said yesterday,” replied Tormo.

“About Intrag commanding an eternal Under-realm empire?” recalled Dr. Borg. “I offer something greater than that.”

“What’s that?” asked Tormo. Dr. Borg motioned for him to come to her side of the desk. He did so, then bent over a little to hear her whispers. She kept her words in the lowest voice possible. Tormo’s eyes goggled. “…Me? A Divine One’s replacement?” he whispered.

“Exactly,” confirmed Dr. Borg. “That’s why I’ve called you one of my Chosen Ones. The prophecy says that when the Final War’s over, by Mortal’s hands, the Titan falls. Oyed believes that the Titan will be some old monster. Well, he’s in for a nasty surprise.”

“In that case, Intrag can have his puny empire,” chuckled Tormo. “I’ll take godhood any day. Sorry for disturbing you.”

“Nonsense,” replied Dr. Borg. “Anything to help out.” Tormo left the room and Dr. Borg returned to her work.

---

“Of all the times to be refused,” grumbled Sorsha as she returned to the jungle’s sandy eastern shore.

“No help, huh?” asked a voice.

“Not an ounce of…” Sorsha trailed off as she recognized the voice. She turned around to see the three Giant Spiders from earlier.

“Thank you for joining us for supper!” purred the first Spider. He turned to his comrades. “Get the cooking fire set up.”

“No, you called me fat earlier!” snapped the third Spider.

“NO?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?!” shouted the first Spider.

“And it’s not the first time you called either of us fat!” snarled the second Spider. As they argued, Sorsha tried to get away. The attempt failed as the first Spider’s pedipalp grabbed her and set her in front of him and his friends.

“You’re going nowhere!” he hissed. “We’re going to make a nice stew out of you!”

“I don’t recommend it,” gulped Sorsha. “Us Elves are pretty fattening.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” cackled the first Spider.

“Why should it?” grumbled the third Spider. “He’s not the one who’s fat!”

“Please, I’m hungry!” whined the first Spider.

“If you think we’re fat, just say so!” snapped the second Spider.

“Please!” begged the first. “I don’t think you two are fat!”

“Then why do you always call us fat?!” demanded the third.

“Wha…ALWAYS?!” protested the first. “I don’t ALWAYS call you two fat!”

“To tell you the truth,” grumbled the second, “it can get a little much to take.”

“Guys, be reasonable!” pleaded the first. “I wasn’t thinking! I was trying to catch our dinner! This isn’t the time…” he finally caved in. “I take it back, you’re not fat.”

“Too late!” snapped the third. “I know your true feelings!”

“Please!” begged the first. “Let’s just prepare her for supper!”

“I suppose her limbs will make for decent subs,” mused the second.

“And we can finish it all off with cinnamon rolls,” suggested the third.

“SUBS?! CINNAMON ROLLS?!” wailed the first. “Imagine what Quaynus would say if she heard you! Please, let’s just chop her up for the stew!”

“Again with the stew!” protested the third. “Why can’t we make nice subs out of her?!”

“Please! Guys!” whined the first. “There’s nothing wrong with stew!”

“I don’t remember the last time I had a cinnamon roll,” mused the second.

“Again with the cinnamon rolls!” snarled the first. “What kind of food is that for a Giant Spider to eat?! Tell me, what kind of self-respecting Giant Spider would bother with any kind of sandwich or pastry?! STEW is what we shall make out of her and we don’t need sweets!”

“Don’t get greedy with me!” snapped the second. “I can make enough cinnamon rolls for all of us! Besides, we only need her arms and legs to make the subs!”

“It’s nothing to do with greed, it’s a matter of principle!” argued the first. “I’m only trying to protect your reputation!”

“You mean YOUR reputation!” countered the second.

“Have you no pride?!” snapped the first.

“Oh, please,” groaned the second.

“Giant Spiders do NOT eat subs or cinnamon rolls!” insisted the first.

“What would you know about Giant Spider feeding habits?!” snapped the second.

“What’s THAT supposed to…?!” snarled the first.

“Hey, did we order our dinner to go?” asked the third, grabbing their attention.

“No, why?” asked the first.

“Then WHERE’D SHE GO?!” yelped the third. Sorsha had taken off during the argument.

“…WHY DIDN’T YOU IDIOTS STOP ME?!” roared the first.

“Why should we?” asked the second. “You’re SO smart!”

“Why I oughta…COME HERE!” The first lunged at the second and the two locked their legs to try and score a blow onto the other. The third just rolled its eyes and looked out to the ocean, waiting for his friends to exhaust themselves.

“You evade my questions, Sprite,” growled Intrag once everyone was in a safe place. “I routed the Gamfinar jungle, burned this particular Fae hive, yet you aid me.”

“I’m simply doing our Lord’s bidding,” replied Dr. Borg.

“Your Majesty, forgive any impudence,” urged Torsko, “but I must beg you to heed my advice; do NOT trust her!”

“If you can explain why, I WILL forgive your impudence,” replied Intrag.

“I made the mistake of trusting her,” answered Torsko, “and she practically sold me out to Realmfleet!”

“‘Realmfleet!’” growled Intrag. “How is it that the Realms put aside their differences?!”

“How much do you remember before you died?” asked Torsko.

“All I can remember,” answered Intrag, “is that stupid so-called ‘message’ from the Divine Ones and knowing it to be a trick from one of the other Realms.”

“You publicly challenged the message’s authenticity,” explained Torsko, recalling history. “The Divine Ones intervened and the High Orc Chieftain, Juggshu, killed you. That’s when your wife took command of the Under-realm.”

“Juggshu killed me?!” snarled Intrag. “After all I did to make all of the Orc breeds powerful?!”

“Your wife tried everything to bring you back,” continued Torsko, “even sacrificing Juggshu for a ritual, but she still failed.”

“My ancestors were once assassins,” interjected Dr. Borg. “Your son hired one of my ancestors out to kill your wife. After the assassin completed his work and was paid, your son claimed the throne.”

“Your ancestor killed my wife?!” roared Intrag. “If this is true, you will be the one to pay their debt!”

“I invite you to make me!” challenged Dr. Borg as the two charged at each other.

“ENOUGH!” boomed a voice. A huge cloud of black mist exploded into being, knocking everyone off their feet. As they picked themselves up, the cloud parted to reveal the upper torso of a man clothed in black. He had the palest of skin and his eyes were nothing more than black orbs with mist constantly seeping out of them. He wore a hat that was simplistic in its design. Everyone stopped fighting and knelt in the man’s presence. “Dr. Cytanek Yavenag Borg is under my protection, Intrag Emboramii,” rumbled the man, “as are you.”

“Lord Oyed,” greeted Intrag. “Forgive my impudence, Oh Titan and Father of Gods! I was unaware of the Sprite’s involvement in your plans!”

“I shall overlook this for now,” answered the man, Oyed the Destroyer. “I must say, after seeing the Realms’ current state, I’m still displeased with how my children do not truly repair them.”

“So you intend to start the Final War?” asked Intrag.

“Not yet,” corrected Oyed. “Dr. Borg has not yet built our armies up to do so. The Splitters remain a problem.”

“Splitters, Oh Terrible Oyed?” quizzed Intrag.

“Those who’ve abandoned the Divine Ones and think as you do,” explained Dr. Borg. “They’re divided by Realm and are determined to claim their Realm’s ‘supremacy’.”

“However,” remarked Oyed, “they declared you weak early in their founding, Intrag.”

“…They WHAT?!” roared Intrag.

“You see the dilemma,” observed Oyed. “I need them gone.”

“My Lord, forgive me,” called Intrag, “but how will fighting your battles benefit me?”

“I offer a greater empire in the Final Age of Unity,” promised Oyed. “You will live eternally and be the undisputed ruler of the Under-realm.”

“…You can make me an immortal king?” asked Intrag. Tormo gave a sideways glance to Intrag.

“It is an immense task,” replied Oyed, “one where I cannot afford to be distracted. That’s why I need you. The Splitters must be broken.” He turned to everyone. “You must each gather those within the Splitters that do not fully agree with the organizations’ goals and bring them to our side,” he commanded. “Can you try this?”

“I’ll do more than try!” declared Intrag. “I’ll succeed!”

“Splendid,” praised Oyed. “In the meantime, I must make my presence known. A fleet of ships is coming and I must put them in their place.”

---

“Captain on the bridge!” called Malak as Arsha entered the bridge.

“As you were,” directed Arsha as she sat in the Captain’s chair. “Shalvey, open a channel to the fleet.”

“Channel open, Captain,” reported Shalvey.

“All ships, report status,” Arsha called over the channel.

“Regatim, standing by,” replied the Regatim’s Captain, a male Naga named Yantar.

“Morkal, standing by,” called the Morkal’s Captain, a female Troll name Gekthoo.

“Bolmola, standing by,” reported the Bomola’s Captain, a female Zephyr named Shumfam.

“Hammer of Tongu, standing by,” answered the Hammer of Tongu’s Captain, a male Sprite named Ilmar.

“Twelegar, standing by,” relayed the Twelegar’s Captain, a male Orc named Jonshu.

“Belsnath, standing by,” called the Belsnath’s Captain, an Alraune named Orchid.

“Realmtrail, standing by,” reported the Realmtrail’s Captain, a male Centaur named Lentha.

“Forge, standing by,” answered Roozay.

“Skyshell, standing by,” called the Skyshell’s Captain, Marianes’ sister, Samuje.

“Drelda, standing by,” finished the Drelda’s Captain, a male Elf/Cecaelia Blender named Antorma.

“Is this all?!” protested Roozay. “11 ships?!”

“Somehow, Realmfleet felt it couldn’t afford more,” muttered Samuje.

“I was there when the order came down,” replied Lentha. “The only reason we have 11 ships is because we’re getting help from the Divine Ones.”

“So a Wraith is so dangerous,” remarked Arsha, “it needs divine attention.”

“Evidently, yes,” answered Lentha.

“So, which Ones are coming?” asked Orchid. Five pillars of red mist, five of yellow, and one of black appearing on the Endeavor’s bridge answered her question. “All five of the Fire and Lightning Ones and one of the Ending Ones?” The mist dissipated to reveal a male Dwarf in red, Mordek, a male Elf in red, Enfor, a male Human in red, Glaktem, a male Centaur in red, Shenfia, a male Kitsune in red, Pecktar, a Dryad in yellow, Morkal, a male Cecaelia in yellow, Entralg, a female Elf in yellow, Zalkii, a male Minotaur in yellow, Oldramor, a female Centaur in yellow, Foltrim, and a female Fairy in black, Falheem. Everyone knelt in their presence.

“We have no time to stand on ceremony,” called Entralg. “We have a dark matter to discuss.”

---

The Captains and Divine Ones assembled in the Endeavor’s conference room. A display of the island near the eastern edge of the Over-realm’s northern continent was projected on the table. “So, what intel do we have?” asked Arsha. Enfor stepped forward.

“Dr. Borg’s small army has set up shop in a cathedral dedicated to Oyed on the island,” he began. “They’ve set up a supply chain for mana extraction from the Gamfinar jungle.”

“That’s a pretty risky move,” remarked Ilmar. “They need vessels to cross the water between the island and the continent. Skyships are too exposed and boats will be easily bombarded from the air.”

“Not to mention the dangers inside the jungle,” rumbled Gekthoo. “Carnivorous plants that would eat a person of any size, bears that will only gore you then bury you to eat later, and let’s not forget that Intrag brought a horde of Giant Spiders to colonize the jungle during the War of the Realms.”

“And the Spiders are Sentina Spiders,” shuddered Lentha. “If Intrag’s involved, he’ll definitely get them to his side.”

“The Spiders’ ancestors, yes,” countered Roozay. “But we don’t know if the modern Giant Spiders would listen to him.”

“Besides, ghosts of all types can’t really manifest outside the Under-ream,” supplied Jonshu.

“If the ghost is using Oyed’s power, it can,” corrected Mordek. “If the Spiders see him, they’ll rally to him. Their ancestors deified him and made a whole religion around his return.”

“An appearance from him of any kind will inspire the Spiders to obey him,” supplied Entralg.

“Has he attempted a dialogue with them?” asked Yantar.

“Thankfully, he has not,” answered Mordek, “and he won’t be able to do so before the fleet gets to the island.”

“So we need to keep him occupied,” mused Orchid.

“Him AND Oyed,” explained Enfor.

“Your father’s manifested?!” gulped Arsha.

“Yes,” replied Enfor. “As long as a worshipper of his makes contact, he can freely escape his prison from the After-realm’s Depths. That is why we’re going with you on this mission.”

“We’ll occupy Oyed and Intrag while the fleet destroys the cathedral,” declared Pecktar. “With any luck, Oyed will be banished back to the After-realm and Intrag’s soul will finally fade into nothingness.”

“The cathedral’s sure to have ground forces,” remarked Shumfam.

“Then we need to use drone fighters to occupy the enemy,” called Arsha, “while our own ground forces destroy the cathedral from within.”

“If they get pinned down in there,” muttered Orchid, “there’s no way out for them.”

“To ensure the Realms’ survival and to make sure the Final War does not start so soon,” remarked Mordek, “we must all be willing to sacrifice.”

“I’M the Black Divine One here,” interjected Falheem. “I’M supposed to say that when I need to. It’s been 5,000 years too long since your grim and gritty makeover, droning on about sacrifice. Unlike the mortals in this fleet, we don’t exactly have families to lose if we fail.” Mordek’s face assumed a scowl.

“I know loss, Falheem,” he growled.

“Lord Mordek’s right, Lady Falheem,” called Arsha. “we can’t afford to go through the Final War. We need to strike now before the Realms fall to Oyed’s design.”

---

Over in the jungle, an Elf woman ran through the trees, stopping to examine a plant that looked sickly. “That’s no good!” she griped. She ran through the trees again and found mushrooms that were liquifying. “Another Tomnar mushroom patch gone!” she grumbled. Just then, a bird flew by and tweeted something at her. It took a bit of her hair in its feet and pulled it in one direction. “Easy! Let go!” she snapped at the bird. She followed it to a clearing where a small monkey coughed. “Johgo!” she yelped as she dashed towards the monkey. The monkey opened his eyes and held his hand to the Elf’s face.

“Sorsha,” he coughed. “I don’t…I don’t think…”

“Don’t talk!” directed the Elf, Sorsha. “I’ll get you home!” She scooped the monkey, Johgo, into her arms and dashed towards a small sled. She placed him in a small basket, then grabbed the handlebars and channeled magic into the sled, making it propel itself through the jungle to a small cottage. She stopped the sled, then brought Johgo inside. A bunch of birds clustered around Johgo as Sorsha gathered healing materials. “HEY! CLEAR OFF! GIVE THE POOR GUY SOME AIR!” she shouted. The birds scattered and Sorsha got to work brewing up potions. She checked over her notes repeatedly after several failed attempts. When she made a glowing, green potion, she held the flask up to her face. “If this doesn’t work, nothing will,” she muttered grimly. She held the flask’s opening to Johgo’s mouth and tipped it so the contents came out slowly. The monkey’s eyes then went wide and he shoved the flask aside before throwing up. The bile took a dark purple color as it landed on Sorsha’s floor.

“That was disgusting!” gagged Johgo.

“What are you complaining about?” grumbled Sorsha as she sighed in relief. “You’re alive, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah, but my throat’s burning!” replied Johgo.

“You know where the water is,” answered Sorsha. Johgo clambered his way to a small water cooler and got himself a cup. He opened the tap and filled the cup, then shut the tap off and drank the water. Sorsha got out a small dome and placed it over the mess.

“I swear,” muttered Johgo, “all I did was eat a small apple and it blighted in my mouth and made me sick! Name me one piece of magic that does that!”

“Not any natural magic,” mused Sorsha as she got a reading from the small screen on the dome. Her eyes widened in fear. “…Oh my, but it IS! It’s natural magic all right, but an old form of it. A dark, powerful, angry, EVIL magic.” At that moment, she became aware of footsteps outside her cottage. Though the windows were shuttered, the shapes of human-sized spiders were seen scuttling around her home! “…He’s coming back!” realized Sorsha. “Johgo, when I’ve made a path, you make a break for your troop!”

“But, what about you?!” protested Johgo.

“I’ve got ways of getting out of this! Now get ready to go when I say so!” ordered Sorsha as she charged out of her cottage and fired concussive spells at the Giant Spiders. After a few minutes of combat, a path was cleared. “GO!” shouted Sorsha. Johgo scampered off at top speed and made his way to the canopy. After a few more minutes, the Giant Spiders surrounded Sorsha, daring her to make a move.

“Little monkey all alone!” taunted a Giant Spider.

“Sending your kid away?!” laughed another.

“We had a treaty!” snarled Sorsha. “You would leave me and my friends alone and I wouldn’t interfere in your business!”

“Like we’re going to keep a treaty with feculent monkeys,” argued a third Giant Spider.

“Spell ‘feculent’,” snarked Sorsha.

“F-E-C…” began the second Spider.

“Quiet!” snapped the third as he smacked the second’s head with his pedipalps. He turned to Sorsha. “With Intrag returning, our treaty is null and void! The Final War’s coming and there ain’t a thing you can do to stop it!”

“No, but I can make sure my faction wins!” snarled Sorsha. The Spiders laughed at that statement.

“You don’t have the firepower to do so!” taunted the first Spider.

“Doesn’t she?” asked a voice.

“Go away, boy,” hissed the first Spider, not turning around to face the voice. “Don’t interfere in matters that don’t concern you.” The voice’s owner then smacked the Spider’s rear, angering the Spider and making him turn around. His angry demeanor changed to a fearful one as he saw a Forest Dragon in humanoid form.

“Who are you calling ‘boy’?” snarled the Forest Dragon.

“Hey, Jokorah’s looking where you are!” gulped the third Spider.

“You mean he’s looking where I WAS!” yelped the first Spider. “AM-SCRAY!” The Spider army ran into the jungle, nearly tripping over each other in fear. Once it was just the Forest Dragon and Sorsha, they spoke.

“Noticed anything recently?” asked the Forest Dragon, Jokorah.

“I had Johgo complain that an apple he was eating blighted in his mouth and made him sick,” replied Sorsha.

“His whole troop managed to get the same results,” revealed Jokorah. “I healed them all, but couldn’t find Johgo. I take it you healed him?”

“Yep,” confirmed Sorsha. “I also learned that the blight’s evil in origin. Given what I’ve heard from the Spiders, I’d say it’s the work of Oyed manifesting and bringing Intrag back.”

“I’ll do what I can to slow the spread of the blight,” declared Jokorah, “but we need a large source of mana to purge it.”

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up,” affirmed Sorsha as she dashed back into her cottage to grab her book, then dashed into the jungle to begin her search.

“Your fortunes are restored?!” cheered Denstra once everyone returned to the Endeavor and explained what happened.

“And the Barmeks are part of a Clan now?!” asked Endea.

“Yes to both,” answered Bashoon. “Now we’ve got a safety net if we’re ever in financial trouble again!”

“Could you explain why the Clans are so important?” asked Arsha.

“Gladly,” replied Bashoon. “While a family can do great things on its own, when its part of a Clan, it can do so much more. It demonstrates that we’re willing to put aside differences to pursue the betterment of the Imperium and the best way for us to do that is to seek profit.”

“Well, I’m happy you have your fortunes back and can rest easy knowing you have other people willing to help your family out,” declared Arsha. “…Er, does this mean…?”

“I’m not leaving Realmfleet!” yelped Bashoon. “I plan to serve Realmfleet until retirement!” Arsha released a breath.

“I was worried for a minute there,” she chuckled. “We would have lost a fine Officer.”

“What’s gonna happen to Torsko?” asked Denstra.

“If I know my future father-in-law’s tolerance level for traitors,” muttered Arsha, “nothing good.”

---

There was a celebration in Dwelga that lasted a few days over the return of the Scale-sword of Yunshul. It was quite the cause for celebration and, with Goblins being Goblins, it was the biggest chance for profit. Food, drink, fancy items, all were being sold at all prices. This was a true Goblin party. After the celebration, golden busts of Bashoon and her parents were set into a wall with other busts. This was the Wall of Heroes, set with the busts of famous Goblins who changed the course of the Imperium’s history and sought new ways to make profit. Once that was done, Chancellor Penshek gave a speech of praise towards the Barmeks, thanking them for their service to the Imperium, despite the wrongs they had suffered. After the speech, Bashoon and her parents returned to the Endeavor and went back to work with a new view on life. “Well, I can only see things getting better from here,” sighed Bashoon.

“Ain’t that the truth!” replied Mr. Barmek.

“New heroes talking about the future?” called Arsha’s voice. She stepped into the restaurant.

“Wanna join in the conversation?” asked Bashoon.

“Much as I’d want to,” sighed Arsha, “I’m afraid I have an assignment for you. We need a new internal communications system set up and I need you to help Malak and Dalengor.”

“Understood, Captain,” confirmed Bashoon as she headed off to give Dalengor and Malak a hand. Arsha chuckled.

“You know, I may write a Letter of Promotion Recommendation for her very soon,” she mused.

“You think she’s served long enough?” asked Mr. Barmek.

“She’s certainly brave enough and her record’s impeccable,” answered Arsha. “I don’t see any reason to…” the intercom interrupted her.

“Shalvey to Arsha,” called Shalvey.

“It never fails,” Arsha sighed to herself. She headed to the restaurant’s communications terminal. “Go ahead.”

“Rokalla and Orbak have an Alpha Priority transmission for you,” relayed Shalvey. “They have reason to believe a Wraith is now involved in Dr. Borg’s affairs.” Arsha’s eyes went wide.

“Route the call to my Ready Room,” directed Arsha. “I’ll take it there.” She left the restaurant and headed to her Ready Room, unpinning her hairpiece, and fastening it to her waist. Once inside, she opened a channel. “Please tell me I heard Shalvey wrong,” she begged Orbak and Rokalla’s holograms. “Please tell me you DIDN’T tell her about a Wraith.”

“I wish we didn’t,” sighed Orbak. “The Wraith freed Torsko as I was about to behead him and they escaped with Dr. Borg and her cronies.”

“Your Majesty, I need the full story,” sighed Arsha.

“You WON’T like it,” warned Rokalla. “I sure didn’t.”

---

Torsko was restrained by his neck and wrists, awaiting the guillotine blade to drop. He was alone in the center of a circular, closed-off courtyard. Many people, dressed in dark robes, observed in silence as drums rang out, reverberating deep into the very fiber of Torsko’s being. The only one who wasn’t robed was Orbak. The drums silenced as a robed man unfurled a scroll. “Hear ye, all in attendance!” called the man. “Let it be known that on this 1300^th day of Irtum in the 4006300079^th year of the Three Realms’ Third Age of Unity, Former Goblin Chancellor Torsko Canerba is found guilty of the following charges: deception of the Goblin Imperium to secure ill profits, silencing innocent voices, keeping the Imperium in a state of stagnation, aiding and abetting the terrorist Dr. Borg, and engaging in treason against the Under-realm! Let it be known that the judges have deemed he is too dangerous to be kept alive! Let it be known that Orbak Emboramii, the King of the Under-realm, is recommended to behead Torsko so the Realms may rest easier! Let it be known that none in attendance are to discuss what happens here unless at the King’s discretion! Your Majesty, will you follow the judges’ recommendation?”

“I shall!” snarled Orbak. “I request a few words with the Condemned as I carry out the execution!”

“Your request is granted!” replied the man. Orbak stood up and strode towards the guillotine.

“For 36,000 years of your life,” growled Orbak to Torsko, “you’ve evaded scrutiny! Broke the backs of the poor! Sucked dry the bounty of the Goblins! Consorted with evil! Today, you will pay your debt as your thieving hands and treasonous head are removed!”

“Kill me, Orbak,” hissed Torsko, “and you lose profit!”

“You mistake me for my first ancestor, Intrag the Conqueror!” snarled Orbak as he took the rope attached to the guillotine’s blade. “I do not inflict bandits upon the poor! I do not consider the rulers of the other Realms my inferiors! I do not…!”

“That’s what makes you weak!” interrupted Torsko. “Intrag would have approved of my methods! His word was once law before you watered it down!” Orbak pulled the rope down, causing the blade to go up and undo its restraints on its own.

“I did not merely water Intrag’s word down,” he hissed in a low whisper, “I removed it! Intrag is dead and so is his twisted view of law! Never again will the Under-realm suffer his corruption!” His grip on the rope started to lessen…then a wind blew around the execution yard. The wind picked up until something caused the guillotine to be reduced to splinters, freeing Torsko. The wind then concentrated in one area before dark mist swirled, obscuring the shape of a man until the man inside swung his arms out, banishing the mist, and revealing a bare-chested man in only pants and shoes with the same crown as Orbak. Black mist constantly flowed around him and he strutted with a swagger reserved for confident warlords.

“Your king has returned,” chuckled the man. “You may bow.”

“Intrag?!” breathed Orbak.

“Manners, boy,” chided the man, Intrag. “Use my honorifics. Say, what’s your name, anyways?”

“I am Orbak Emboramii, the current Under-king!” introduced Orbak. Intrag flinched.

“You are a descendant of mine?” asked Intrag. “How do you claim the throne?”

“It became your son’s by right and deed!” declared Orbak. “You were killed long ago, as was your repugnant wife!”

“If you ARE my descendant,” growled Intrag, “then her blood is in your veins. Do not insult her.”

“I am the one who gives the commands!” shouted Orbak. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have an execution to carry out! Once that’s done, I will deal with you and your needs as a refugee!”

“…What did you call me?!” whispered Intrag.

“Current Under-realm law clearly states that all refugees be offered assistance,” replied Orbak as he turned his gaze to Torsko. “I offer it to you, Intrag Emboramii…”

“I AM NO REFUGEE!” roared Intrag as he forcibly turned Orbak to face him. “I AM THE ONLY KING OF THE UNDER-REALM! I was going to be nice and ask you, but now I am ORDERING you! Vacate my throne or I will soak this yard in your blood!”

“I won’t cede the Under-realm’s throne!” declared Orbak as he converted his scepter to sword mode.

“It isn’t yours to give!” challenged Intrag as he rushed at Orbak. He summoned a large blade and the two swords clashed. “Impossible!” breathed Intrag. “Oyed himself made me a Wraith!”

“So you DID make a deal with the Titan!” snarled Orbak as he swung his sword again. As the Wraith and King fought, Torsko tried getting away, but the people in attendance weren’t giving him the chance. He had to continue dodging the blows to stay alive. Things weren’t looking too good for either side as both were evenly matched. That is, until the Scorpion arrived. It fired a few shots to scare everyone back as Dr. Borg was transported down.

“Intrag! Torsko! To me!” she called. The two took the opportunity and joined her, allowing them to be carried up to the ship.

“SHOOT IT DOWN!” ordered Orbak. The audience tried, but it did no good. The Scorpion vanished and fled the scene. Orbak unleashed a flurry of curses in the Under-realm’s language that I shall not translate here.

---

“Great, so Oyed’s got something more planned!” growled Arsha once the story was finished.

“If Intrag’s Wraith is involved, you bet,” remarked Orbak.

“How bad is Intrag, Your Majesty?” asked Rokalla.

“Let’s just say,” replied Orbak, “he never believed the Divine Ones’ message of unity for all Realms. He publicly called it a hoax, even in their presence, and tried to slay them when they said it wasn’t.”

“I’m surprised his soul wasn’t obliterated on the spot!” gulped Arsha.

“Family legend…or rather, historical fact now,” explained Orbak, “said that Oyed saved his soul in exchange for serving the Titan.”

“Well, we can’t let him go through with this,” growled Rokalla. “Arsha, there have been reports dark energies being discovered on an island off the eastern beach of the Gamfinar Jungle. The Endeavor is to lead a small fleet there and investigate what’s going on. The fleet’s already assembled at the Rooka Forest.”

“Understood, Admiral,” confirmed Arsha.

“Good luck, Captain,” bid Rokalla. His part of the call ended. Orbak sighed.

“Arsha, if the fleet needs help…” he began.

“You and your wife will be the first I call,” replied Arsha.

“Just be careful,” advised Orbak. “Intrag’s not one to be underestimated, especially now that he’s a Wraith. Orbak out.” The call ended and Arsha changed into her duty uniform. While she changed, she didn’t notice that her rose was giving the faintest of glows.

Over in Dwelga, Torsko held a meeting of the Imperium Majestics, the main ruling body of the Goblin Imperium. The meetings usually consist of discussing the newest business opportunities discovered under Goblin Law. “Last, but certainly not least,” called Torsko as he wrapped up the meeting, “we must thank Twenshii for discovering a new mana-crystal source and securing it for Dwelga!” A Majestic woman bowed her head in respect. “I congratulate you all, ladies and gentlemen! Yearly profits are better than ever!” The Majestics pounded their fists on the table in self-congratulations. “However, there IS one cloud on the horizon, a cloud that none of us can get rid of easily, despite our best efforts. I’m not blaming anyone here, but it’s become clear to me that it’s becoming more and more hard to find truly lucrative opportunities here! Why? Because, no matter where we go, our reputation always precedes us! A reputation formed from the lies of our competitors!” The Majestics grumbled about this. “Competitors, like Reb Rojam, who maliciously spread the false impression that Goblins can’t be trusted!” The grumbling was more vocal. “But, there’s now a way to clear that error! You see, my intelligence network says that the Scarlet Stream Pirates have been disbanded and Reb Rojam has been finally arrested!”

“You mean…?!” breathed a male Majestic.

“Plunder Island Stronghold, ladies and gentlemen!” confirmed Torsko. “And the routes they took! We can use them for trade opportunities!”

“We can build a new reputation of using pirate territory for the betterment of society!” cheered Twenshii.

“My thoughts exactly!” replied Torsko. “It’ll be the good old days again!” There was much rejoicing at this bit of news as many Majestics started making plans. The session was interrupted by a massive knock on the room’s doors.

“…I ain’t expecting anyone,” muttered a Majestic. The doors then turned to splinters as Orbak and a contingent of soldiers swarmed the chambers.

“WHERE’S THAT PURE-BLOOD, TORSKO?!” roared Orbak. “HE’S MAKING DEALS WITH THE ENEMY! I WILL HAVE HIM EXECUTED!”

“King Orbak, my friend!” called Torsko. “What’s the meaning of this?!”

“Torsko, as the King of the entire Under-realm, I’m placing you under arrest for aiding and abetting the terrorist, Dr. Borg!” accused Orbak. “Arsha’s told me all about what your conversation with the good doctor entailed.”

“What in all the Realms are you talking about?!” yelped Torsko. “I never spoke with Dr. Borg!”

“LIES!” roared Penshek’s voice. Penshek, Bashoon, and Arsha then stormed in. Penshek stabbed the table with the Scale-sword, causing many Majestics to gasp in surprise.

“It cannot be!” breathed a man.

“It IS!” replied Penshek. “Realmfleet has authenticated it, as did Torsko’s friend, Dr. Borg!”

“That’s a spurious claim!” shouted Torsko. “I’ve never associated with her!”

“I’d like to believe that, I really would,” hissed Orbak, “but Eltan recorded the whole conversation between you and Dr. Borg!”

“After Eltan helped us escape,” continued Arsha, “we both gave the report to Realmfleet and Orbak.”

“Hold on, Eltan’s one of Dr. Borg’s Reve…” Torsko stopped himself too little, too late.

“Just a minute,” called a male Majestic, “were you about to say ‘Revenant’? Are you telling me Dr. Borg has a Revenant?!”

“How would you guess that?!” asked Twenshii. “…You didn’t make a deal with her, did you?!” Torsko said nothing.

“And it was all a bid to hide the fact that he’s clanless!” called a male Majestic.

“Yontrem!” yelped Torsko. “What are you doing?!”

“Reporting my findings to my employer, that’s what,” dismissed Yontrem.

“…A mercenary!” growled Torsko.

“I was hired to get information on you after you were declared Garsheek’s successor,” explained Yontrem. “Orbak knew there was something rotten in the Imperium, he just never figured it would be a clanless Goblin who was so afraid of being found out that he would be desperate enough to consort with terrorists and try to stifle any new opportunities with Realmfleet.”

“Realmfleet is the one that stifles us!” snapped Torsko. “On top of that, the fact that only those whose families are part of a clan can rule? That is nothing more than absurdity!”

“The reason for that is because profits can’t be sought out alone!” argued Arsha. “Not even mercenaries like Yontrem can seek it on our own! He had to get help to get this particular job from Orbak! Leaders would understand that there’s always a need for a safety net!”

“Past leaders, perhaps, but not modern ones!” countered Torsko.

“Enough!” called Twenshii. “You blind, ignorant fool! We ALL need a safety net! How else can we calculate risk?! Since you’re stupid enough to shoot yourself in the foot like this, we ALL order you to go with Orbak!”

“I give the orders, not you!” shouted Torsko. At that moment, the Majestics leveled their wands at him.

“Either you go with him or we execute you here and now!” growled Twenshii. Yontrem growled back, then sighed in defeat as he allowed Orbak’s soldiers to slap the cuffs on him.

“Just know this,” hissed Orbak, “I’ll be pushing for the maximum penalty for traitors like you!” He turned to his soldiers. “Take him away!” The soldiers took Yontrem to the prison carriage and drove off.

“The Imperium needs a complete overhaul,” sighed Twenshii.

“Perhaps the one who brought the Sword back can lead us,” mused another Majestic. Penshek goggled.

“Pardon me?!” he yelped.

“We need a new leader for a new era for the Imperium,” explained the Majestic.

“Penshek DID retrieve the Scale-sword,” mused a third.

“All those that would have Penshek Tolshoon promoted from Grand Treasurer to Chancellor of the Imperium, say ‘aye’,” called Twenshii.

“AYE!” declared a multitude of voices.

“All against, say ‘nay’,” directed Twenshii. No one said a word. “The vote’s unanimous. Penshek Tolshoon, step forward and take the Chancellor’s Oath.” She held out a book of the Imperium’s constitution. Penshek gulped before placing his left hand on the book and raising his right hand. “I, Penshek Tolshoon of the Tagnar Clan, do solemnly swear…”

“I, Penshek Tolshoon of the Tagnar Clan, do solemnly swear…” repeated Penshek.

“…that I will uphold the principles of the Goblin Imperium faithfully,” continued Twenshii.

“…that I will uphold the principles of the Goblin Imperium faithfully,” confirmed Penshek.

“I will advise the Imperium on how to seek profit…” Twenshii went on.

“I will advise the Imperium on how to seek profit…” replied Penshek.

“…even if the Guidelines must be thrown out,” Twenshii continued.

“…even if the Guidelines must be thrown out,” repeated Penshek.

“I now pronounce you the Chancellor of the Goblin Imperium!” called Twenshii. The Majestic pounded the table in congratulations, though some were a little sour at seeing a new Chancellor so quickly.

“My thanks,” called Penshek. “However, I must first clear some debts before I concentrate on the Imperium.”

“Debts?” asked Orbak.

“To Ensign Bashoon Barmek and her family,” explained Penshek.

“What debt do you owe us?” quizzed Bashoon, a little confused. Penshek pulled out a pad and keyed in something.

“There we go,” he declared. “Check your bank account.” Bashoon arched an eyebrow, then did so. Her eyes went wide.

“…Mom and Dad too?” she asked.

“My first act as Chancellor,” answered Penshek, “is to return what was wrongfully taken from you. Your family’s fortunes are restored. Let the name of Barmek be spoken of once again.”

“Congratulations, Ensign!” cheered Arsha.

“Th…thank you,” stammered Bashoon.

“Now, I need to speak with your father,” remarked Penshek. “Excuse me.” He left the chambers.

---

Penshek found Mr. Barmek outside the building, looking over a pad with his wife. They had just checked their bank account and were confused at the sudden increase of personal funds. He cleared his throat and the Barmeks turned to face him. “Grand Treasurer, can you help me make heads or tails of this?” requested Mr. Barmek.

“A sudden increase in your savings account?” chuckled Penshek.

“…How did you know?” asked Mr. Barmek.

“Let’s just say I was instrumental in getting your fortunes back to you,” replied Penshek.

“But…but how?!” asked Mrs. Barmek. “Only the Chancellor can do that! Last I checked, Torsko’s not gonna be one to restore our fortunes like that!”

“Torsko was arrested for consorting with Dr. Borg,” explained Penshek.

“Then, who’s the…you?!” realized Mrs. Barmek.

“No way!” gasped Mr. Barmek.

“After Torsko was taken by Orbak’s soldiers,” recalled Penshek, “I was drafted into the Chancellorship. I’ve just restored your original fortunes. Now, I must ask, which of you is head of the Barmek family?”

“I am,” replied Mr. Barmek. “Before we lost our fortunes, I’ve been trying to make deals into joining a clan, practically begging for a safety net..”

“You don’t need to resort to begging anymore,” chuckled Penshek. “You’ve raised a hero and such an act deserves a reward. Do you have your Family Ring?”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Barmek, confused. Penshek then drew out a small, ring-sized stamp. “…You’re joking!” breathed Mr. Barmek.

“I don’t make jokes that would be so cruel,” assured Penshek. “Korsak Barmek, for beginning a new era for seeking profit, the Tagnar Clan would be honored in having your family in our ranks, both as valuable money-makers and, most importantly, as friends.”

“…Chancellor Penshek Tolshoon,” declared Mr. Barmek, “I heartily accept this wondrous opportunity!” He held his ring out and Penshek pressed the stamp to it. The Barmeks were now part of a Clan! They then shook hands.

“May you be forever wealthy!” declared both Goblins.

“Well, I must compliment you, Arsha,” chuckled Dr. Borg as both Arsha and Bashoon’s teams were brought to the control room. “I honestly didn’t expect a two-pronged attack. Still, your attempt to interfere with my deal with the Imperium was futile.”

“When the Imperium sees that you’ve interfered with a Quest that they’re funding,” snarled Penshek, “there will be no end to their vengeance!” Dr. Borg stared at him for a moment, then chuckled.

“The Chancellor’s fooled you well, hasn’t he?” she purred.

“…What?” asked Penshek.

“Get me the Imperium,” Dr. Borg ordered Eltan. The naga keyed in a command and the Goblin Chancellor appeared on the screen.

“Chancellor Torsko?” quizzed Arsha.

“Dr. Borg, I trust things are going well,” grunted Torsko.

“As well as can be expected,” replied Dr. Borg. “We have the Goblin you sent.”

“Excellent,” purred Torsko.

“Wait, I don’t understand,” muttered Penshek.

“…I thought you would have killed him by now,” growled Torsko.

“What’s all this about?!” demanded Penshek.

“A removal of a political rival,” replied Dr. Borg.

“You’ve been insulting my views for too damn long!” continued Torsko. “Why you side with rebel youngsters when the old ways still work, I’ll never understand!”

“But…but I don’t…” stammered Penshek.

“It’s all very simple,” explained Torsko. “Dr. Borg contacted me a while ago after finding the Scale-sword on her island. Her financier and a good friend of mine, Tormo, introduced me to her.”

“After we talked, I made him an offer,” continued Dr. Borg. “He would send a political rival on a Quest for the sword and I would dispose of said rival, earning a little extra money for my experiments. After all of his rivals are gone, I will give the Imperium a position in my empire as the main bankers.”

“And we won’t have to rely on Realmfleet for profits!” growled Torsko. “Ah, I see you have a member of the Barmek family with you.”

“You did all this to spite Realmfleet?!” snarled Bashoon.

“To spite YOU and your sibling-parents, actually,” hissed Torsko.

“You did NOT just call me the product of inbreeding!” snapped Bashoon.

“Why else would you preach the notion that the Imperium is diseased with its own power?!” argued Torsko.

“Trying to enslave the Trolls all over again?!” retorted Bashoon.

“When they served us, it was declared the height of our civilization!” growled Torsko.

“Slavery’s barbarism and you know it!” shouted Bashoon.

“Slavery’s been the backbone of all civilizations!” snarled Torsko. “Once Dr. Borg publicly gives the Scale-sword to me after all my rivals are dead, we’ll be funneling money to her for generations to come and I’ll retire easy!”

“So this whole thing is a retirement plan!” growled Arsha.

“I think Varshenta Beach will be a good place to retire,” chuckled Torsko. “The ladies love the money-men there.”

“You won’t get away with this!” hissed Arsha.

“Get that from Dr. Snood?” scoffed Torsko. He then gave his attention to Dr. Borg. “Penshek’s the last of my rivals.”

“Then I’ll deliver the Scale-sword to you once I finish up here,” promised Dr. Borg. “Borg out.” The call ended and Dr. Borg turned to Weltam. “Speaking of rivals, I believe Arsha should witness the execution of yours.”

“I’ll bring her up here,” replied Weltam.

“So you’re killing Reb too?” muttered Bashoon.

“Bring Melgem up here too,” Dr. Borg directed Weltam. “My newest theory is that his spirit will be broken worse than his body.”

“So, Reb first, then let Melgem give up on living before killing him,” guessed Weltam.

“That’s the plan for this behavioral experiment,” confirmed Dr. Borg.

“Coming up,” purred Weltam. She then sauntered off to the brig.

“When Realmfleet discovers what you did…!” snarled Arsha.

“Realmfleet is ineffective in keeping the major threats under control!” argued Dr. Borg. “You lot claim to be peacekeepers, yet the Splitters and scum like Reb still exist! The denizens of Domoroto were all kidnapped and raped for 50,000 years, yet the Mega-sharks all got a slap on the wrist by being forcibly relocated! I’m giving the Realms a permanent solution to evil!”

“Then why are you talking to Oyed?!” demanded Arsha.

“That’s for me to know and members of the Realm Trinity Empire to find out,” chuckled Dr. Borg. She then turned to the Revenants. “These are the last prisoners to be executed. Make sure their executions are recorded. After that, send the recordings to Realmfleet HQ.”

“Got it,” confirmed Yulduk.

---

Weltam keyed in an entry code for the brig and the door opened. “Oh, Reb!” she sang. “It’s time for your haircut! Now, the barber recommends going right below the neck and…WHAT THE?!” The cells were empty! Weltam opened them and cast a spell to determine if magic was used or is in use. The spell turned up nothing. “Of all the…!” snarled Weltam. She slammed her hand on an alarm button.

---

The alarm rang throughout the base. Dr. Borg determined its location to be from the brig. “Command Center to brig!” she called over the intercom. “What’s going on?!”

“Reb and Melgem have flown the coop!” replied Weltam.

“Are you sure?!” yelped Dr. Borg.

“Positive! I’ve checked their cells!” answered Weltam. “They ain’t here!”

“Thank you, Marshii,” chuckled Arsha.

“…Another diversion!” snarled Dr. Borg. “My security system really IS subpar!  Everyone, find them!”

“You’ll fail in the attempt,” laughed Bashoon.

“Oh? Why, pray tell?” asked Dr. Borg.

“Because the Endeavor’s long left the island with Reb and Melgem being patched up by Marshii!” boasted Arsha.

---

“Scalpel,” Marshii directed the nurse.

“Scalpel,” replied the nurse as he handed the tool to Marshii. She took the tool and used it to cut the excess cast wrapping off of Reb’s arm.

“Success,” declared Marshii once she finished. She turned to the nurse. “Good work.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” replied the nurse.

“My GRACIOUS thanks as well, Doctor,” bid Reb. “I already feel my POOR bones coming back together. That UNHOLY brute, Yulduk, was so base that he WOULD hurt a lady!”

“I’d save the thanks for now,” advised Marshii.

“…Why?” asked Reb. The nurse then snapped his fingers and she vanished. “WHAT IN THE DEPTHS?!” shouted Reb’s voice outside the door. Marshii and the nurse stepped out of the brig’s infirmary and smirked as Reb and the cybernetically restored Melgem roared in their cells.

“Did you really think this opportunity WOULDN’T be exploited?” asked Marshii. “A chance to arrest the most notorious pirates in all the Realms? You bet we’re gonna take it!”

“I’LL PUNCTURE YOUR SWIM BLADDER FOR THIS, YOU DRIED-OUT MINNOW!” threatened Reb. “THEY CAN’T HOLD REBARISAL ROJAM, ADMIRAL OF THE SCARLET STREAM PIRATES!”

---

“All we need to do,” chuckled Arsha, “is to get the Scale-sword to Dwelga and upset your little potion-cart!”

“You won’t be able to do so when your head is cut off!” snarled Dr. Borg. “Yulduk, take them to the Execution Yards! We’ll show the Realms what happens to those that defy us!”

“Understood!” replied Yulduk. He turned to the other Revenants. “You lot, get them ready for…” he didn’t get far with his command as Eltan’s tail grabbed his waist and flung him into Dr. Borg! As they tried to pick themselves up, the Realmfleet Revenants undid the prisoners’ bonds.

“Orders, Captain?” asked Eltan.

“Get us to the Scale-sword!” ordered Arsha. “After that, we’ll all clear a path to the open and summon the Endeavor for pickup!”

“Drelta, lead the way!” Eltan ordered Drelta. “I’ll bring up the rear!”

“Got it!” replied Drelta as he summoned a pair of ice blades. Eltan then slithered towards Dr. Borg and Yulduk.

“What is the meaning of this mutiny?!” demanded Dr. Borg.

“While we DID wish we could see our families one last time before we died,” hissed Eltan, “we gave our lives to protect them! We feigned rage towards Arsha! The thought of having died DOES sicken me, but I don’t blame Arsha for it! Her life was just as on the line as mine and she was willing to give it up if it meant the mission could succeed back then!”

“Yulduk, stay behind and deal with this traitor,” commanded Dr. Borg. “I’ll take a team with me to stop Arsha’s advance.”

“Understood,” replied Yulduk. He then got into a defensive stance as he faced Eltan. “The Revenant Spell was your chance to take revenge on those who left you behind! You OWE Dr. Borg!”

“You were convinced to join her after she brought you back!” snarled Eltan as the two combatants circled one another. “She needed to use her words! That’s never a guarantee that a Revenant will join her!”

“Ungrateful Shrew!” roared Yulduk. “Reborn to a new privilege which you throw away!”

“Privilege?! This?!” Eltan swept her hand over her tail and indicated the Revenant veins.

“You clearly never knew a life of failure!” replied Yulduk. “If you did, you would value the gift Dr. Borg gave you!”

“This is a curse, not a gift!” argued Eltan.

“I say it’s a blessing and a second chance!” roared Yulduk. He threw a pair of fireballs at her, but Eltan absorbed them and unleashed a torrent of flames at his feet.

---

“Just once,” Dr. Borg griped to herself, “I’d like things to be easy!” Her pursuit of Arsha and her group led her to the new room the Scale-sword was resting in. Bashoon had lowered the force-field already and Penshek was making a grab for it. “Back away from the sword!” demanded Dr. Borg. Penshek didn’t listen and grabbed the sword’s hilt, pulling it free from its bonds. “Disobedience on this scale is punishable by death!” snarled Dr. Borg as she flew at the team in a rage. Sheendii fired a blast of ice at her wings and knocked her to the ground.

“Get going!” urged Sheendii. “I’m undead right now! I’ll cover the escape!”

“I’m not leaving you again, Lieutenant Eltraa!” argued Arsha.

“With respect, Captain, you don’t have a say in the matter!” countered Sheendii. “Go! Now!”

“Arsha!” interjected Foresna. “We don’t have a choice!”

“…Withdraw!” called Arsha. Everyone ran as Sheendii fired ice blast after ice blast, slowing down the enemy forces.

---

Eltan had gotten her coils around Yulduk and slammed him repeatedly against a console, forcing him to fall unconscious. She let him drop to the floor and caught her breath. “I won’t be a slave to her cruelty,” Eltan declared. She then noticed Arsha’s team on the monitor making their way towards the exit. “Near enough,” declared Eltan as she keyed in a command to the power core.

“Warning. Warning,” droned the computer as an alarm sounded. “Reactor core contamination. Unable to purge. This base will self-destruct in three minutes.”

---

The announcement rang throughout the base. “Self-destruct?!” yelped a pirate.

“Unable to purge?!” wailed Jansha. “Mother, what do we do?!”

“…Evacuate the base,” declared Dr. Borg. “This venture is no longer worth pursuing.”

“Plunder Island Stronghold can accept you,” offered Rochak.

“With the amount of loyalists Reb has?!” argued Jansha.

“Had,” corrected Rochak. “The loyalists fled when we took over.”

“In that case, we accept your offer of asylum,” declared Dr. Borg.

---

Yulduk finally got up and shook his head to clear his headache. He heard the alarm and saw the status of the power core with everyone clearing out. He then put two and two together and snarled before dashing towards the exit.

---

The Realmfleet Revenants and Arsha’s people got outside as the inhabitants of the base continued with a ruthless evacuation of the base. “Okay, Endeavor,” called Arsha over a communicator, “we have the sword and we’re all here! We also have five new arrivals! Get us out of here!” Light surrounded everyone and they all ended up in the teleport room! The officers manning their stations saw the Revenants and leveled their wands at them. “Wait! Hold your fire! They’re friendlies!” The crewmembers arched their eyebrows in confusion. “Okay, we’ve got a story to tell you…” muttered Arsha.

The Endeavor finally arrived at the island and held position in its airspace. The plan was simple at first glance, but required the tightest of communication. Arsha would lead one team to distract Dr. Borg and her allies, Marshii would lead a medical team to get Melgem and Reb to the relative safety of the Endeavor, and Penshek would lead a team to get the Scale Sword out of its hiding place. Arsha’s team teleported to the island’s rocky northern shores. The rocks were large and offered little comfort. The team took up positions for an ambush, mental communications only. “Arsha,” Foresna called over the mental frequency, “you do realize Dr. Borg’s most likely intercepted your transmission to Reb, right?”

“It’s probable,” replied Arsha’s thoughts. “In fact, I’m counting on it.” Right on cue, Dr. Borg and Yulduk came up the steady slope. “There you are,” Arsha purred to herself.

“Might as well come out,” Dr. Borg called. “We know you’re here.”

“I would have been insulted if you didn’t,” replied Arsha. She gave a hand-signal for everyone to hold their position. “So, what’s Oyed promising you?”

“That’s between me and him,” dismissed Dr. Borg. “You have bigger concerns.”

“Like what?” scoffed Arsha.

“Like us, for starters!” called another voice. At that moment, five people revealed themselves from vantage points higher than anyone on Arsha’s team. They were a female Naga, a male Ice Elf, a male Cecaelia, a female Slime, and a male human. They all had one thing in common; they had the same ashen skin and blue veins of light as Yulduk. The only thing that indicated the Slime was a Revenant was her core having the same veins as a Revenant.

“I believe you know these Revenants,” chuckled Dr. Borg. “Eltan Sontor, Sheendii Eltraa, Drelta Meltrek, Blenter Ansii, and Entran Deltar, the people who died under your command during your first encounter with Reb Rojam.”

“Yeah, I remember them,” snarled Arsha. “I also remember their funeral, you ghoul!”

“A worthless effort!” burbled the Slime, Blenter. “All you did was put on a show and give the illusion that you would remember us!”

“Your deaths still haunt me!” argued Arsha.

“Do they?!” hissed the human, Entran. “Or is that what you tell yourself to help you keep up appearances?!”

“Tell us,” demanded the Cecaelia, Drelta, “did you actually look our families in the eye as you told them we wouldn’t be coming home or did you simply take the coward’s way out and write condolence letters?!”

“I understand you blame me,” interjected Arsha, “but I made sure you were immortalized! To answer the question, I both wrote letters AND explained your deaths in person!”

“You still considered the coward’s way out!” accused the Naga, Eltan. “Just know this, THIS is what your future will be!” She gestured to herself. “You will die and it will all be because of Realmfleet!”

“Our future has the potential of being tragic,” interjected Foresna, “but it’s not going to be Realmfleet’s fault! You’ve all been warped by Oyed and Dr. Borg’s evil!”

“I guess Arsha never told you HOW we died,” snarled the Ice Elf, Sheendii. “A pirate ran his sword through my chest! A member of the Endeavor saw it and did NOTHING!”

“I would have executed Yotek!” boasted Eltan. “But Oak wanted the glory! He held me back and allowed me to be cut down by Under-Splitter Golems!”

“No!” declared Foresna. “I don’t believe that!”

“One day,” proclaimed Blenter, “Realmfleet WILL fail you! Then, you will believe!” Arsha looked around before deciding on the next move.

“FIRE ON THE ROCKS!” she called. Everyone fired magic blasts at the rocks above them, making the Realmfleet Revenants lose balance and tumble with the rocks as Arsha and her team got away. The Revenants regrouped and attacked Arsha’s team with Eltan making her way to Arsha. Arsha raised her hands in a defensive manner as Eltan assumed a Naga’s combat stance. “You spew Oyed and Dr. Borg’s lies!” snarled Arsha. “You believe yourself to be a savior when, in reality, all you’re doing is helping that pure-blooded Sprite enslave the Realms!”

“Who’s a pure-blood?!” shouted Dr. Borg as she joined Eltan. “My bloodline is blended, thank you! And you claim I’m enslaving the Realms?! I’m liberating us all from the shackles of limitations! How was I ever so blind as to believe that we need limits?!” She and Eltan then flanked Arsha and attacked! As they fought, more Revenants joined the fray. There’s one advantage the Undead have over the living; they never tire out. The Revenants still battled as Arsha’s team steadily became tired.

“Arsha, are we even doing anything?!” gasped Gorfanth.

“Just keep it up,” panted Arsha. “We need to show them that our way is the right way.”

“You’ll fail miserably in the attempt,” scoffed Dr. Borg as she continued the attack.

---

While the fight went on, Penshek led his team through the winding corridors of Dr. Borg’s base. “I can feel it! It’s this way!” whispered Penshek.

“That’s what you said in the last corridor!” hissed Bashoon. “And the one before that! Heck, you said that in EVERY corridor we’ve been down!”

“Well, do YOU have a better plan?!” snapped Penshek.

“Yes, actually,” replied Bashoon. “We use the base’s computer system to find the Scale Sword’s location!”

“And risk alerting everyone here?!” argued Penshek. As they argued, Elmar tapped Penshek’s shoulder and alerted him to a pirate rounding the corner. The pirate looked bleary-eyed, as if he just woke up from a nap. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and just shuffled down the corridor until he could see Penshek.

“Hey, who are you?” he asked, slurring his words.

“Er, we’re…uhm…” stammered Penshek.

“We’re new recruits!” supplied Bashoon. “We were told to report to where the Scale Sword was being held…”

“…but we got lost on the way!” finished Penshek.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, just take a right down the hall behind me,” mumbled the pirate. The team thanked the pirate and began moving off…when the pirate slammed his hand on an alarm button! He guzzled the rest of his coffee and looked more alert. “How dumb do you think I am?!” he snapped more clearly.

---

Back at the fight with the Revenants, the communicator in Dr. Borg’s arm buzzed. She tapped it and got the intruder alert. “Stop!” she called to her Revenants. “We have intruders at the base!”

“But Arsha…!” protested Blenter.

“She’s the diversion!” realized Eltan.

“Round up the prisoners and bring them inside!” ordered Dr. Borg. One quick stun spell from the Revenants and Arsha and her team were knocked out.

---

“NEW RECRUITS?!” shouted Penshek as he and his team ran through the corridors of the base, trying to evade the soldiers.

“I WAS PANICKING!” replied Bashoon.

“CAN WE CONCENTRATE ON RUNNING RIGHT NOW?!” interjected Elmar. It was a good enough suggestion for the two Goblins, so everyone put their energies into their feet and legs. They dashed into a hangar and avoided the shots from the base’s inhabitants. Just then, Penshek whipped out his wand and fired on the rafters. They crashed all around the enemy and almost crushed Elmar and Bashoon!

“Sorry!” he called.

“STOP HELPING!” shouted Bashoon. While the enemy soldiers were trying to get around the rubble, Bashoon and her team found a good hiding place. The enemies then got around the rubble and tried to find them.

“Where are they?!” bellowed an Earth Dragon.

“They must have doubled back!” guessed an Elf.

“With me!” called a Centaur. The enemies left the hangar, leaving Bashoon and her team to pant alone.

“Boy, we sure did a lot of running,” gasped Bashoon.

“And as soon as we catch our breath,” panted Penshek, “we’re gonna be running some more!”

“Hopefully towards the Scale Sword,” muttered Elmar. He then noticed something. He gestured for the two Goblins to carefully follow him towards a door with a golden light emanating from a door near them. The door had a numerical keypad near it, so it was a safe bet to believe it was passcode protected. Penshek then produced a device and held it near the keypad. The device bathed the keypad in green light and exposed which numbers were the ones that had been pressed the most.

“Well, we know the numbers are 3, 4, and 7,” muttered Penshek. “Now, if only we knew what the sequence is.”

“Allow me,” offered Bashoon. “Time to try something Thangred and I cooked up.” She pulled out another device with a keypad, keyed in the digits, and then brought it near the door’s keypad. The new device bathed the keypad in blue light for three seconds, then displayed 734 on its screen. Bashoon then keyed in 734 on the door’s keypad and the door opened! “We’ve already got a contract with Realmfleet to make more of these for security reasons and covert operations,” chuckled Bashoon.

“Nifty little gadget!” praised Penshek. “I hope the contract’s good to both of you.”

“It is, Penshek, I assure you,” replied Bashoon. The three then entered the room and were stunned when they saw where the glow was coming from. The light was a forcefield that held a Goblin-sized sword with the hilt’s cross-guard styled to look like a set of balance scales.

“Is that…?” asked Elmar.

“It is!” breathed Penshek.

“The Scale-sword of Yunshul!” Bashoon confirmed in a reverent whisper. The two Goblins were about to make a grab for it before Elmar held them back.

“This is too easy,” he remarked.

“He’s right,” muttered Bashoon as she shook herself out of her trance. “There should be more defenses than this. The sword IS Dr. Borg’s bargaining chip.”

“Circle the room,” directed Elmar. “We’ll approach it from three different angles.” The Goblins nodded, then went slowly along the walls, their eyes darting all around to make sure they weren’t caught by surprise. The entire three-person team then crept forward towards the forcefield. Nothing happened yet.

“This makes no sense,” muttered Bashoon.

“Er, Ms. Barmek,” observed Penshek, “all of the pillars surrounding the forcefield have gold light for trim, right?” Bashoon then observed the three pillars and, while it was true that two of the pillars had gold light, one of them had red. As Bashoon looked closer at the pillars, a memory stirred…then a frightful image!

“SIR! GET BACK! THAT’S JANSHA!” she warned Elmar. Too late. The pillar Jansha used as her disguise fell off of her and she grabbed Elmar’s head before slamming him into the forcefield and knocking him out! The two Goblins then pulled out their knifes and set their wands into them. Jansha’s eye then glowed brighter until she fired a torrent of red light at them, a massive stun spell, knocking them out. Jansha shut off the spell and checked herself over. A couple of pirates entered the room.

“It’s all right,” she assured. “The sword’s still safe. We just have some morons to throw into the brig. Get them there.” The pirates nodded and took the prisoners to the brig while Jansha reported to Dr. Borg about the situation.

The Endeavor made its way to Crelima City, a Naga dwelling like the Regatim Oasis, only much larger. Topping off supplies was going to take some time. Endea drummed her fingers at her new workstation in Main Engineering. Her assignment was to monitor the progress of the spare mana tanks as they filled. It was a long, tedious assignment, one where people nearly fell asleep at their station. Endea’s eyelids drooped a few times before she started slapping herself in the face. When she finished, she stared at her screens harder with eyes more widely open. A futile effort as her eyelids were drooping again. “Dull assignment?” asked a voice.

“You have no…” Endea’s sleepiness vanished as she trailed off. The voice didn’t belong to any member of the crew. She turned her chair to see a genie that seemed to have an affinity for purple, right up to the bow in her hair. “How did you get in here?!” demanded Endea.

“I’m Maska Launidar,” replied the genie.

“That doesn’t answer my question!” barked Endea.

“Sure, it does,” giggled Maska.

“No, it really…why am I still talking to you?” Endea grabbed her communicator and made a call. “Security, report to Main Engineering! We have an intruder!” Dalengor and her security team wasted no time in getting to Main Engineering. The team leveled their wands at Maska.

“Surrender your vessel, Genie!” snarled Dalengor.

“I’m unbound,” replied Maska. “Besides, I need to speak with Arsha at once!”

“You can do so in your brig cell!” growled Dalengor.

“Peace, Lieutenant Commander Mardem,” called another voice. A portal had opened and allowed Rellmeer and Rokalla to step into Main Engineering. “Ms. Launidar is here at our behest,” continued Rellmeer. “What she discovered is grave indeed.”

---

Arsha drummed her fingers on the conference room’s table. Her hairpiece was removed and just sitting on the table. “My guest has a quest to complete,” she grumbled. “I would have preferred that I suffered no interruptions.”

“I’m afraid your quest for the Scale Sword must be completed with all haste,” urged Rellmeer.

“Why?” asked Arsha. “Haste will only bring us into the path of Reb and her ilk and I’m still not over the Galthar incident.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about her intercepting you,” replied Rokalla. “What Dr. Borg is doing to her is far more horrible.”

“…Is Reb being held hostage by her?” quizzed Arsha.

“Dr. Borg is currently holding her for ransom,” explained Maska. “She demands the burial torpedoes you launched after your first encounter with Reb.”

“What kind of ghoulish experiments would she want with them?!” gulped Arsha.

“Revenant creation,” replied Rellmeer.

“But…but that research was destroyed long ago!” argued Arsha.

“From what I overheard, when Reb and Melgem encountered Dr. Borg and her new Revenant,” continued Maska, “one you and Denstra should be familiar with. Tell me, does the name ‘Yulduk’ mean anything?”

“Galthar’s former Collector!” gasped Arsha. “He’s Dr. Borg’s Revenant?!”

“And she intends to make more out of those five that died last year,” finished Rellmeer. “Maska needs a map.”

“Computer, pull up a map of the Under-realm,” Arsha commanded the computer. A map appeared on the screen and Maska got it to zoom in on an island.

“Right there,” she declared as she pointed to the island. “That’s where Dr. Borg’s base is.”

“But that’s where the Scale Sword’s supposed to be!” yelped Arsha. Just then, Penshek ran into the room.

“Captain, my spies in the Imperium have terrible news!” he called. “Dr. Borg’s beaten us to it! She’s arranged a deal with the Imperium! She’ll deliver the Sword if the Imperium joins her!”

“I’ve just heard other bad news related to that,” muttered Arsha. “All right, the long way is no longer a viable option. We need to leave NOW!” She then activated ship-wide communications. “All hands, duty uniforms on. Assume battle stations. We’re going to the Scale Sword’s resting place at once.” The alert rang through the ship as various crew members teleported themselves to their quarters and changed their outfits to their duty uniforms. When Arsha arrived at her quarters, Gorfanth and Foresna immediately started asking questions.

“Aren’t we taking the long way around?!” asked Foresna.

“What about Reb’s pirates?!” quizzed Gorfanth.

“They’ll be too busy trying to free Reb and Melgem from Dr. Borg’s clutches,” replied Arsha as she ducked behind a changing screen. As her dress was draped over the screen, she continued talking. “Dr. Borg’s taken them hostage and found the Scale Sword before we did. She’s using it as a bargaining chip to gain the Imperium’s loyalty.”

“She’s only, what, three strong?” asked Foresna.

“Four, since she’s been reported to have a Revenant,” corrected Arsha.

“…I’m sorry, a WHAT?!” yelped Foresna.

“I thought that research was destroyed!” continued Gorfanth.

“The people on that project backed up their research for someone to find,” explained Arsha as she retrieved her duty uniform from the table near the screen. “And this particular Revenant was Galthar’s collector. You know, the one that got greedy and helped, in a twisted way, bring Endea into the world.”

“Well, I don’t know about you,” muttered Foresna, “but I seem to recall that Revenant creation requires talking to Oyed the Dark Father.”

“I’m not letting his evil influence spread over the Realms!” growled Gorfanth. “”When we hit the island, I’m hitting the Revenant! I’ll dash his head against the…!”

“You two,” interrupted Arsha, “are civilians. This is a Realmfleet matter. You’re staying out of the inevitable fight.”

“With all due respect, Arsha,” argued Gorfanth, “no, we’re not.”

“Dr. Borg’s probably building an army of Revenants,” continued Foresna. “She’ll use them to attack our homes. We’re joining you in a preemptive strike against her.” Arsha finally stepped out from behind the screen in her duty uniform.

“There’s no talking you two out of this, is there?” she muttered as she set her hairpiece on the table. Gorfanth and Foresna shook their heads. Arsha sighed. “…There are civilian duty uniforms in my closet. Go put them on, then join the other civilian fighters on Deck 36 for combat preparations.” With that, she left her quarters and made her way to the bridge. “Report,” she called.

“All reserves are topped off,” reported Thangred.

“All decks are standing by,” continued Shalvey.

“Nazay,” commanded Arsha, “get us out of here, all available speed.”

“All available speed,” repeated Nazay as the Endeavor left Crelima City.

---

“Pirate fleet inbound,” Jansha reported to Dr. Borg.

“Hail them,” ordered Dr. Borg. Jansha complied and a channel opened. Rochak appeared on the screen.

“We have your burial torpedoes,” he called.

“Then Reb and Melgem shall be released into your care,” declared Dr. Borg.

“Actually, the members of this fleet have a better idea,” interjected Rochak.

“…I advise against double-crossing me,” warned Dr. Borg.

“We’re not doing anything like that,” assured Rochak. “Weltam and I would like to talk to you in person.” Dr. Borg considered her next move for a bit.

“…Meet me and Yulduk at the beach,” she finally decided.

“See you there!” promised Rochak.

---

Dr. Borg and Yulduk came out of the jungle and found Rochak and Weltam standing by 13 burial torpedoes. Only five were of Realmfleet design. “What’s all this?” asked Dr. Borg.

“We have more people for you to make Revenants out of,” purred Weltam.

“I DO need the numbers,” remarked Dr. Borg. “Few things come without a price. What do you want of me?”

“Positions in your empire, that’s what our little fleet wants,” explained Rochak.

“…Has Reb wronged you in any way?” asked Yulduk.

“Every time one of us raises an objection, she just shoots us in the head!” snapped Weltam. “This has been going down since Galthar!”

“We want our friends back and we want a new boss!” continued Rochak. “You seem to be able to provide on both counts!”

“…We DO need the soldiers now,” mused Yulduk.

“And having pirates like these on our side,” considered Dr. Borg, “WOULD give us supply routes.”

“Well?” asked Rochak.

“…You’re right,” chuckled Dr. Borg. “Your deal is sweeter than mine. Let’s talk about your positions in my empire.”

---

Reb’s arm was finally healed after chanting healing spells for over an hour. Her cell was separate from Melgem’s, just directly across from his. The stumps that were once his limbs still had their burns from Yulduk’s fire blades. The bleeding from his now empty eye-socket had stopped. Reb finally moved towards her cell door. “Melgem, sweetie?” she called across the hall.

“You never realize what a gift depth perception is until you lose it,” sighed Melgem. Reb’s heart stung. Her husband was feeling deeply sorry for himself and feeling utterly useless.

“Maybe…maybe I can get a message to Realmfleet,” suggested Reb.

“In hopes of asking someone for help?” muttered Melgem. “They won’t help pirates.” Just then, Reb’s communicator chimed. “…I thought they confiscated that,” muttered Melgem.

“Handy having a most DELIGHTFUL symbiote slime on your person,” chuckled Reb. She checked who was calling and her eyes widened in surprise. “It’s Arsha!”

“How’d she get your number?!” yelped Melgem.

“Does it matter?!” argued Reb as she accepted the call.

“Greetings, Admiral Rojam,” came Arsha’s voice.

“‘Greetings’?!” snapped Reb. “Arsha, what kind of VILE menace did you bring to the Realms?! First, you make me lose a chance to get a most HANDSOME profit on your safe return to Realmfleet! Then, you cause Mechanicas to spread everywhere, filling their heads with the most DREADFUL lie that they’re NOT servants! Now, Dr. Borg’s got my husband and I as her hostages! Who does that CLOD think she is?! She’s not acting like a member of Realmfleet if she’s making Revenants!”

“She’s not a member of Realmfleet, I promise you,” assured Arsha. “She has some sort of plan in the works that will bring down Realmfleet. I’d wager it involves talking to Oyed in some fashion.”

“She’s threatening to start the Final War,” replied Reb, “and managed to get a group of MY men to her side half an hour ago! MY OWN MEN!”

“We’re preparing an attack plan,” Arsha went on, “and will try to stymy her efforts as best we can.”

“More to the point,” interjected Reb, “can you break us out and get Melgem medevac’d so he can have his GRIEVOUSLY missing parts replaced? Dr. Borg’s prototype Revenant, Yulduk, HEINOUSLY robbed my husband of an arm, leg, and eye!”

“There’s nothing we can do about your men,” replied Arsha, “but we can certainly get Melgem the necessary prosthetics so he can help you deal with them while we deal with Dr. Borg and her compatriots.”

“Then we have an accord,” declared Reb. “I’ll deal with my men; you deal with that LUNATIC cyborg sprite!”

“We’re 10 minutes out,” finished Arsha. “Try and hold out for that long.” The call ended.

“Well, it looks like I was proven wrong,” chuckled Melgem. “Realmfleet IS helping us, after a fashion.”

“Now, you and I, my GORGEOUS hubby,” purred Reb, “need to plan how we’ll hold out for about 10 minutes.”

“I’d argue the ‘gorgeous’ claim, given my current appearance,” mused Melgem, “but we’ll debate that AFTER we get out of this.”

The day of the Quest’s start had finally arrived. Penshek was in the Conference Room with the Senior Staff, the Barmeks, and Endea. “What’s the deal behind this sword?” asked Marshii.

“Only that it was the first weapon a Goblin used!” replied Bashoon. Marshii then arched an eyebrow at her. “…Ma’am,” gulped Bashoon as she sensed the impropriety of her outburst.

“When the Under-realm was more savage,” explained Penshek, “Goblins were less brave. We were cowardly when we sought gold and we had amassed quite a pile for ourselves. That only encouraged bandits to take our gains. Over time, a Goblin named Yunshul declared that he had enough, so he forged the Scale Sword and used it in preemptive strikes against bandit colonies. This led to war and Yunshul led the Goblins to a victory so grand, his golden bust was the first on the Wall of Heroes. That was around the time we became more bolder and observed how markets worked. He was the very Goblin that became the first Chancellor of the Imperium. Unfortunately, when he died, his sword was stolen and the Imperium has been looking for it ever since. Our ancestors sent out searches across the Under-realm to find it, but we were interrupted in our search by the Great Realm War. We were once convinced that Other-realmers had stolen it, so we joined the Under-realm Armies to find it. We still look for it to this day.”

“But you claim to know where it is,” remarked Thengo.

“Elmar, what did your analysis of the cloth tell you?” asked Arsha.

“There were trace amounts of telkanite,” reported Elmar, “eludiminium, and Dragon Sapphires on the shroud. Those materials would have been used for a sword of that era. The design also matches records of shroud designs of that time.”

“Then the question becomes,” mused Thangred, “where did it come from?”

“An agent of mine got it from its resting place,” explained Penshek. “He found it on an island between the Central and Northern Continents of the Under-realm.” He pointed to an island off of the Central Continent’s northernmost tip, where Dwelga lived.

“That just increases the danger,” muttered Arsha.

“What makes you say that?” asked Penshek.

“The island directly between Dwelga’s northern reach and Frigandor,” explained Arsha, “the one directly east of our destination, that’s where Reb Rojam and her pirate fleet lives.”

“I don’t think we have too much to worry about,” replied Denstra. “As most of you have learned by now, I used to be the Chief Engineer of Reb’s old flagship. She never believed the legend of the Scale Sword. Any Goblin that tried to make that Quest, she shot them.”

“Wow, she REALLY inspires her crew,” muttered Endea.

“In any event,” continued Arsha, “stealth will have to be the word around here as we go on this journey.”

“If pirates are involved, most certainly,” agreed Penshek. “I’ve heard other tales about the Scarlet Stream pirates; tales that say they leave no survivors.”

“…Then where do the stories come from?” asked Bashoon. Penshek opened his mouth, then shut it as he realized what Bashoon was talking about.

“In any case, those tales don’t scare me!” declared Arsha.

“Or me!” affirmed Endea.

“I ain’t backing down from this!” called Thangred. This was the general declaration of everyone in the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced Arsha, “we need to plan a flight path that avoids the pirates. Mr. Nazay, recommendations?”

“The way I see it,” replied Nazay, “the shortest way, and the riskiest, is to go north-west to the island in a straight-line, but that’s a good way for Reb’s fleet to intercept us. Another route is to skirt between the Western Continent and the island, but, while less likely, that’s also a potential pirate route. The only option, while fuel intensive, is to go to the island between Dwelga’s southern shore and Crelima City’s northeastern shore, then go over Crelima city and travel up the Western Continent until we get to the northern edge, then to the island north of the continent, then island hop southeast across the islands between the Northern and Western continents until we reach our destination.”

“Then we NEED to make sure,” suggested Thangred, “that all mana reserves and food and water supplies are topped off if we go to Crelima City. Our port of call will need to be the Realmfleet base at the city’s northern border. I don’t feel I should remind you all about how much of the Western Continent is nothing but sandy deserts.”

“That still leaves the return journey to Dwelga,” remarked Endea. “If we go directly south from the island, we’re sure to encounter Reb and her ilk and I won’t have enough mana to get us through a fight nor take the long way around again.”

“No, but the Northern Continent has the closest port of call to resupply,” replied Nazay. “After that, we can take the safe route from the Northern Continent to Dwelga that avoids pirates and we’ll be good to go.”

“Then we need to spend a few days going over the plan,” declared Arsha. “While I understand this is a crucial mission to the Imperium, we cannot afford to meet any enemies. I don’t need to tell you all how stealth is key. Starting the instant we walk out of this room; we need to make preparations. Let’s make it happen.”

---

Dr. Borg opened her eye, rubbed it, and stretched as much as she could with her cybernetics removed. Even her prosthetic eye was gone. She smacked her lips, then discovered a taste that was unpleasant. After that, she got a faraway look. “…I wonder if that taste IS the result of a burp dying before escaping during the night,” she pondered aloud. “How would one conduct empirical research on that topic? …Meh, an experiment for another day.” She beat her wings and flew to a keypad, keying in a code that revealed a machine that maintained her limbs while she slept. Her cybernetics were reattached as her eye was handed to her. She set it into her empty eye-socket and restored her depth perception, along with the eye’s other functions. After her limbs were tested, she landed back on solid ground and made her way to the mess hall. Once there, she noticed Yulduk doing something with a pencil and paper. “Good morning, General Yulduk,” she called. Yulduk looked up to give her his attention.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“What are you planning?” asked Dr. Borg.

“A little Revenant recruitment drive,” replied Yulduk. “Scorpo and I found five torpedoes resting just five pors off of Reb Rojam’s stronghold, Realmfleet burial torpedoes. I wonder if the corpses inside would be preserved enough to make more Revenants.”

“Worth investigating,” remarked Dr. Borg. “So you’re drawing up plans to investigate?”

“Bingo,” replied Yulduk.

“Then submit them once you’re finished,” directed Dr. Borg.

“You got it,” confirmed Yulduk. Just then, the intercom rang.

“Southern Outpost to Dr. Borg,” called Jansha.

“Go ahead,” answered Dr. Borg.

“The Black Money has been spotted and isn’t answering our hails,” reported Jansha.

“The Black Money?!” snarled Yulduk.

“Reb’s probably noticed I stole some of the Breath,” mused Dr. Borg. “All hands to battle stations!” The alarm sounded and everyone took their posts at the southern part of the island. “Have we made any further attempts to contact them?” Dr. Borg asked Jansha.

“I’ve been continually hailing them,” replied Jansha, “but they aren’t replying.”

“She may want to talk to Dr. Borg herself,” remarked Tormo.

“A likely theory,” agreed Dr. Borg. “Open hailing frequencies one last time.”

“Frequencies open,” reported Jansha.

“Madam Rojam,” called Dr. Borg, “I presume your quarrel is with me. Kindly respond.”

“Happily!” snarled Reb Rojam’s voice. “Like an under-handed THIEF, you stole a sample of the Breath from my PERSONAL vaults!”

“I needed it for my own purposes,” replied Dr. Borg.

“Either way, you OWE me!” declared Reb. “Come out and face me or your PATHETIC base is leveled!”

“I think you’ll find,” remarked Dr. Borg, “my base is FAR from pathetic. Right now, I have 80,000 torpedoes and 5,000 mana-cannons aimed in your direction! If you don’t believe me, then have a scan and see that I’m not lying.” The base was bathed in green light for a few seconds before Melgem gave a response.

“This is an illusion,” he scoffed, “created by thaumic fields.”

“Take it from me,” replied Yulduk, “Dr. Borg’s technological prowess is no illusion!”

“…Why are you responding with a voice sample from Galthar’s old Collector?” asked Melgem.

“Meet your opponent at the beachhead and find out!” challenged Dr. Borg.

---

Melgem stood where the water continually washed onto the beach. He was still puzzling out why he heard Yulduk’s voice. Reb was on the sand, not wanting to risk the water washing away her slime. Dr. Borg then flew to them and landed with the usual grace of a Sprite, despite her mechanical limbs. “A weak fluttering creature is my opponent?” scoffed Melgem.

“Hardly, I’m fighting your wife before I deal with your corpse,” replied Dr. Borg.

“I’m not dead,” reminded Melgem.

“Give it time,” replied Yulduk’s voice as he jumped out of the trees and assumed a ready stance.

“…I could have SWORN I…” gasped Reb.

“Stabbed me in the head?!” snarled Yulduk. “You did! I remember it quite vividly!”

“Then how are you walking?” asked Melgem. “Come to think of it, how are you not roaring ‘Brains!’ over and over?”

“You assume I’m a Zombie!” growled Yulduk.

“Well, what else could you…” Melgem’s voice trailed as he formed a theory. “…No…no, that’s not possible! All of that black research was destroyed!”

“My ancestors worked on that project,” called Dr. Borg. “Did you think they wouldn’t make backups of their written work? Their proven and disproven theories, the steps they took to achieve their results, the hypotheses and conclusions, they were ALL copied several times over!”

“Melgem, sweetie, what ARE you two talking about?” asked Reb.

“Elves and Fae once theorized that there could be a way to bring the dead back to life and restore their minds,” explained Dr. Borg. “Eventually, they created such a beast, but at the cost of damage to the creators’ souls. When I recovered that research, I made my own theory. If the soul could have a patch applied, the creator can make more and restore the damage done to their soul. I created a device that digitized my soul and made me a new body in the event of death. With that completed, I need to see if the device could apply a patch to my soul in the event of damage. With Yulduk’s resurrection, I proved that theory!”

“As an added bonus,” continued Yulduk, “I was given the means to make more of me! Reb, I suppose I should thank you! If you didn’t kill me, I would never have gotten this opportunity! You look upon Revenant 2.0!”

“The only way that the prototype Revenant was made,” yelped Melgem, “was to talk to Oyed, the Dark Father! Dr. Borg, you’ve reduced yourself to being the Destroyer’s slave!”

“He has promised me,” dismissed Dr. Borg, “the opportunity of making an eternal empire and I see no need to disregard him. He may be many things, but a liar is NOT one of them!”

“You’re not trying to start that RIDICULOUS Final War, are you?!” shrieked Reb.

“As a matter of fact, yes!” confirmed Dr. Borg. “When it ends, the Final Age of Unity will begin! Both the Divine Ones and Oyed could see it and I see no reason to disregard that prophecy!”

“So where does our fight fit in to your grand design?” demanded Melgem.

“It doesn’t,” replied Dr. Borg. “Yulduk just needs some stress relief.”

“Oh?” quizzed Melgem.

“Let’s just say,” replied Yulduk, “I’ve got issues with you siding with Reb instead of your best friend.”

“My wife takes priority, as does the fleet,” dismissed Melgem.

“Then you will be martyred!” snarled Yulduk.

“Very well, then,” declared Melgem. “I hereby invoke the All-Elf Rules of…” Yulduk didn’t give him the chance to finish his invocation. He cartwheeled towards him, flinging a fireball with his feet at Melgem’s face, then delivered swift punches to his opponent’s ribs before throwing a haymaker that knocked Melgem into the water.

“He was invoking combat rules!” called Reb.

“Yulduk saw no need for rules,” chuckled Dr. Borg. Melgem tried to get up, spitting out water in the attempt, but was punched in the face repeatedly until he fell beneath the water. He tried to get up again, but Yulduk held him down by the neck. Melgem soon realized what was going on and panicked, thrashing around in the water, trying to get Yulduk to let go so he could breathe. Yulduk paid no attention, he just laughed as he held Melgem underwater, bent on drowning his former friend. Just then, Melgem’s fist ran straight between Yulduk’s legs and slammed into his privates, crushing them. Originally, Yulduk thought his new Revenant status made him immune to pain. He was proven wrong as he doubled over, his hands over his crotch as he cried out in pain. Melgem finally got up out of the water and took in a huge breath before using his natural Sea Elf abilities over water to make water balls slam into Yulduk’s head. Yulduk then grabbed Melgem’s arm and projected a blade of fire before swinging it through Melgem’s arm, causing the wound to cauterize as he threw the rest of the arm to the sea. Melgem howled in pain as he clutched his stump. Yulduk then grabbed Melgem’s leg and cut it off, then held Melgem by the shirt as he threw the leg away and then tore Melgem’s eye out.

“And, with that,” declared Yulduk, “my revenge is complete. You ruined me, so I ruined you!” He then threw Melgem to Reb. Reb caught him and laid him down while she cast a slow healing spell. Reb then stood up, compressed her slime into its suit form, and charged at Yulduk, her cutlass flashing in the sunset. Yulduk caught it, then snapped her arm. She collapsed, clutching her arm in pain as she screamed.

“What’s next?” asked Dr. Borg.

“An exchange,” replied Yulduk. “The Scarlet Stream pirates want their commanders back; they need to give us the burial torpedoes. If they don’t, then Reb and Melgem return to their pirates in a box.”

“Take them to the dungeons,” ordered Dr. Borg. “I’ll transmit the message.” Yulduk grabbed his prisoners and dragged them through the island’s forest while Dr. Borg gave the message.

Arsha, Gorfanth, and Foresna woke up the next day. This time, waking up was slow-going. They partied a bit too hard during the previous night. “Morning…” groaned Foresna.

“Not ‘Good Morning’?” snarked Arsha as she rubbed her eyes.

“Don’t talk,” moaned Foresna. “My head’s currently trying out for egg-cracking auditions.”

“The morning is EVIL!” hissed Gorfanth as they all got out of bed and shuffled to Barmek’s. Mr. Barmek greeted them at the door again. They all ordered the Up-and-at-‘em special and sat at their table. As they ordered, Endea skipped in, beaming happily. When he finished taking their orders, Mr. Barmek returned to the door.

“Good Morning!” she cheered.

“Good Morning!” returned Mr. Barmek. “You’re taking the Engineer’s test today, right?”

“That’s right!” confirmed Endea. “The instant I pass, I’m getting a paycheck and working as an Engineer with the rank of lieutenant! I told Realmfleet about the meals I had and they’ll add it to my first paycheck so I can pay it off in one fell swoop!”

“Then you need some brain food,” declared Mr. Barmek. “I have just the dish for you!”

“Then I’ll have it!” replied Endea.

“Ship on table 4 needs Haldebor sausage patties,” called Mr. Barmek to Jaltor, “Dwelga scrambled eggs, Greshkagh toast with peanut butter, and a cup of Crelima coffee! Captain and her fiancées on table 6 each need Galdredan sausage, a slice of Galthar Elf toast with Drelda Fae honey, and a hot cup of Haldebor coffee with Rooka sugar!”

“Good-luck special for Endea on table 4 and three up-and-at-‘em specials for the Captain and her fiancées on table 6!” replied Jaltor. “Coming up!”

“So, what’s on the agenda for today, Foxy?” asked Foresna.

“Got a mission in Dwelga,” replied Arsha. “We’re picking up an important figure in Goblin society.”

“Sorry, did I hear you right?!” yelped Mr. Barmek as he and Mrs. Barmek came by with their orders. “Dwelga?!”

“The same place we ran from after we were stripped of our fortunes?!” continued Mrs. Barmek.

“I understand your feelings,” replied Arsha, “but this mission was requested by the Imperium itself. The Goblin practically demanded this ship assist them.”

“Oh boy,” muttered Mr. Barmek.

---

After breakfast, Endea made her way to her new quarters and cracked her knuckles. She turned on her computer, found the site she needed, then keyed in a command that brought the Engineer’s test up. A virtual instructor appeared. “Welcome, Endea, to the Engineer’s test,” began the instructor. “Thangred has already informed me that you have completed the practical and now need to do the written portion. You have 15 questions to answer and each question must be about a paragraph long. Each paragraph needs to be long enough to fully explain your answer, so take your time. You will need to correctly answer 13 questions to pass. Click on the check mark to begin.” Endea did so. “Your written test begins. Good luck!” The screen then went to the first question and Endea read it multiple times to understand it.

“Let’s see, broken maho-link…” mused Endea.

---

While she took the test, Nazay flew the Endeavor out of the water and over to Dwelga, the Goblin city-state at the Central Continent’s northwestern corner. The trip took about an hour before the ship landed. When it did, the ramp lowered and Arsha, Denstra, and Bashoon walked down the ramp. “Why would this Goblin want to see me?” gulped Bashoon.

“He’s asked for you by name,” replied Denstra. “We need to figure out why.” The three looked down the path to see an important looking Goblin man approaching them. Recognition hit them like a freight train. “Well, I’ll be damned!” chuckled Arsha.

“I never realized how important this Goblin was!” remarked Denstra.

“Now I REALLY need to get out of his sight!” gulped Bashoon. “Why did he ask for us?!” The Goblin then stopped in front of the three ladies. Two were in awe, one was in fear.

“Grand Treasurer Penshek Tolshoon!” greeted Arsha. “We’re honored by your presence. I am Arsha Royana, Captain of the Endeavor. This is my First Officer, Denstra Welmeva, and I believe you said you wanted to see the first Goblin to enter Realmfleet? May I present Ensign Bashoon Barmek.”

“I was just about to…” stammered Bashoon.

“Ah, yes, Barmek,” rumbled the important Goblin, Penshek. “A family that argued against what we did in Falgreth a year ago. A family that lost its fortunes. A family that gained profit outside of the Imperium’s Guidelines!” Bashoon looked to the ground, feeling publicly shamed. “…A pleasure to meet you,” greeted Penshek in a tone of friendliness. Bashoon looked directly at Penshek in surprise. “Your seeking profit outside the Guidelines of the Imperium sparked a profit revolution! Anyone who’s an enemy of the Old Guard,” he held out his hand, “is a friend of mine!” Bashoon’s surprise made her a bit slow in accepting the handshake. When she did, she was beaming like a giddy fangirl.

“This is a tremendous honor!” she cheered.

“The honor is mine,” returned Penshek. He then turned to the Captain. “Permission to come aboard?”

“Granted,” replied Arsha. The four then returned to the ship and walked to Barmek’s. “I have a feeling you’ll want to see her parents,” mused Arsha.

“Of course,” agreed Penshek.

---

Barmek’s was experiencing a slow-down, as expected. The morning rush had finished and there were still a few hours before the lunch rush. It was a perfect time to clean. Mr. Barmek had just finished cleaning off the tables and Jaltor had finished with the floors. They went to assist Mrs. Barmek with the stoves and ovens. As they cleaned, Jaltor got a message on his communicator. “Huh,” he mused as he read it. “It’s Denstra.”

“What does your wife need?” asked Mrs. Barmek.

“She says that she, the Captain, and Bashoon are bringing someone called Penshek Tolshoon here,” replied Jaltor.

“PENSHEK?!” yelped Mr. and Mrs. Barmek. Just then, the four aforementioned people entered the restaurant.

“Daddy!” called Bashoon.

“We were just closing up!” gulped Mr. Barmek.

“Join us, Daddy,” urged Bashoon. “You and Mom need to meet our family hero!

“We really don’t!” insisted Mrs. Barmek. “Our presence will make the Grand Treasurer uncomfortable! I don’t know if you’ve forgot, but we’re outcasts amongst most Goblins!”

“And what I have to say,” interjected Penshek, “will force the Imperium to recognize you as the heroes you are.”

“…Beg pardon?” asked Mrs. Barmek.

“She and I are equally confused,” remarked Mr. Barmek.

“We’ve started a profit revolution!” explained Bashoon. “Goblins are seeking profit outside the Guidelines! More Goblins are requesting to serve in Realmfleet!”

“…You’re kidding!” breathed Mr. Barmek.

“She’s not,” assured Penshek. “I have the reports to prove it!” He pulled out a pad of papers and presented them to the Barmeks. The two looked at the reports, then beamed with pride.

“Well, well!” chuckled Mrs. Barmek. “I had no idea!”

“Jaltor, Penshek needs Galdredan spaghetti, Grilthan salad, and a Dwelga milkshake!” called Mr. Barmek.

“Hero’s Welcome special, coming up!” called Jaltor. As Penshek reached for his wallet, Mr. Barmek stopped him.

“No need for that!” he yelped. “It’s on the house!”

“I insist. You need the money more than I do,” countered Penshek. Mr. Barmek was about to object, then he remembered a Goblin proverb, “Never refuse a gift from the Grand Treasurer.” He accepted the money and they all sat at a table.

“Daddy’s a great admirer of yours,” Bashoon revealed.

“Are you, now?” chuckled Penshek.

“Yes,” confirmed Mr. Barmek. “I’ve read stories about your accomplishments. Your negotiation of the Togoo Pass, your liquidation of the False Guard, your confrontation with Rellmeer…”

“All that I’ve done pales in comparison to what I’m about to do,” interrupted Penshek. “I’ve requested this ship so you and they may help me on my Quest.”

“Your Quest?” asked Mrs. Barmek. “You mean, like an actual capital ‘Q’ Quest?”

“Exactly!” confirmed Penshek. “I am on a Quest for the most revered icon in Goblin history! An icon that predates the Imperium!”

“Er, Mr. Tolshoon,” gulped Bashoon.

“An icon more sacred than the Hat of Gold!” continued Penshek.

“Penshek!” hissed Denstra.

“More revered than Stangell’s Gloves! More coveted than the Chancellor’s Robes of Office!” Penshek went on.

“…The Scale Sword of Yunshul?!” gasped Bashoon’s parents.

“The same!” confirmed Penshek.

“You told us not to tell anyone!” reminded Arsha.

“They guessed!” replied Penshek.

“HEY! Hero’s Welcome special for Penshek! It’s getting cold here!” called Jaltor. Mr. Barmek yelped and dashed to the counter to retrieve the meal. When he returned, he had an apologetic smile. Penshek’s smile was one of understanding.

“I forgot about it too,” he replied. “No apologies needed.” As he wound his spaghetti with his fork, he continued. “I know where the sword rests. Think of the glory! The honor of finding the sword of the first Goblin that took up arms and successfully defended Dwelga!”

“Lost since before the First Age of Unity!” sighed Mrs. Barmek as she imagined the fame that would come with such a find. “Its return would change Goblin history!”

“If you know where it is,” called Mr. Barmek, “we MUST return it!”

“We?” asked Penshek. Mr. Barmek sensed the impropriety of his assumption and corrected himself.

“It would be an honor to join your Quest, if you’ll have me,” he explained.

“We could use his keen eyes,” mused Arsha.

“His eyes and the eyes of his wife and daughter!” declared Penshek. “I would have all three Barmeks! Besides, on top of their keen eyes and stout hearts being useful, having them return the Sword would annoy the Old Guard! They would have no choice but to call the Barmeks ‘heroes’!” He then took a bite of his meal and hummed his approval.

“To see the Scale Sword returned to our people,” sighed Mrs. Barmek, “I would give my soul for that chance!”

“They’ll write Profit Poems for centuries!” urged Penshek after he swallowed. “Children will sing our names for millennia! Our golden busts will be on the Wall of Heroes for all eternity!”

“Before you decide on an expression for those busts,” interjected Denstra, “we need to find the sword first. What makes you think it still exists?”

“This!” declared Penshek as he pulled a piece of cloth out of his pocket. He laid it on the table. “There. You see?” asked Penshek.

“I’ve got a Neko’s movement-only vision,” replied Denstra. “Anything standing still is just blurry. What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“The imprint on the cloth,” urged Penshek.

“Yes!” realized Bashoon. “This was the shroud that held the Scale Sword of Yunshul!”

“Don’t be so sure,” countered Arsha. “You could carpet the entire ship with all the ‘authentic shrouds’ that people tried to peddle over the Ages.”

“No one tried to peddle this! It was given to me!” insisted Penshek.

“By whom?” asked Arsha.

“I’ll tell you, Bashoon, and your entire Senior Staff once we get underway!” promised Penshek. “Right now, I need you to confirm its authenticity!”

“All right,” declared Arsha. “I’ll have Elmar look it over in the morning.”

“Why not now?!” protested Bashoon.

“Right now,” replied Arsha, “the ship’s refueling as well as taking the Engineer’s test and I need to check up on her. You, Penshek, need some rest.”

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed Penshek. “As soon as I finish my meal. May you be forever wealthy!”

“May you be forever wealthy,” bid Arsha as she and Denstra got up. Penshek then turned to the Barmeks.

“Imagine the look on the Chancellor’s face when we present the sword to him!” he chuckled. The Barmeks joined in his laughter.

---

Denstra stopped by her quarters while Arsha arrived at Endea’s door. She rang the chime. “Come in,” called Endea’s tired voice. Arsha entered the room to see Endea lying faceup on the bed.

“How was it?” asked Arsha as she pulled up a chair.

“Long, tedious, brain-wrecking,” replied Endea.

“Oh dear,” sighed Arsha.

“I don’t want to go through that torture again!” groaned Endea.

“So…you didn’t…?” asked Arsha, fearing the worst.

“Oh, no, I got 14 out of 15 right,” replied Endea as she pointed to her computer screen. Arsha looked at the results as a congratulations message looped.

“Well done, Endea!” cheered the instructor. “Only one answer wrong? That’s impressive! You’ll definitely go far! Congratulations, you have proven that you are worthy of being an Engineer with the rank of Lieutenant!”

“Congrats!” cheered Arsha. “Has Thangred been told this yet?”

“Not yet,” replied Endea. “I’ll tell him after my nap.”

“All right,” affirmed Arsha. “Then, after you tell him, I need you to prepare for a Quest.”

“You got it,” confirmed Endea as she flopped onto the bed, then shut her eyes and snored. Arsha crept quietly out of the room and shut the door to let Endea rest.

The day of the Trial’s outcome had arrived. Everyone had gathered in the Amphitheater to witness the decision of Uluntan. He approached his seat. “All rise for the Honorable Judge Uluntan!” called the bailiff. Everyone rose on cue.

“Be seated,” directed Uluntan. As everyone sat down, he banged his gavel. “The day has come for the court’s decision. Stenographer, give us a day-by-day summary of the trial.”

“Day One,” began the Stenographer, “the opening arguments identified the general two sides of the Mechanica rights debate. The witnesses on that day gave their views on whether or not Mechanicas would circumvent the need for workers to maintain Mechanicas. The proceedings of that day ended when the topic of violence between Mechanicas and organics was brought up. Court had adjourned until the next day. Day Two: both sides had prepared their arguments for the topic of violence between Mechanicas and organics. The proceedings centered around an altercation between the Endeavor and a member of her crew. One of the witnesses declared that the Divine Ones would not pay attention to these proceedings while the other one explained that the debate had reached even them. Court had adjourned until yesterday. Day Three: the opening arguments on both sides centered on whether or not the Divine Ones would adopt Mechanicas as their children. We were graced with the presence of two Divine Ones, one on each side of the argument. The day’s proceedings ended with closing arguments and Court was adjourned with the announcement that we would all hear the decision today.”

“Thank you,” bid Uluntan. He looked at both Kalo and Thentra. “You two are clearly students of Mrs. Kosnar. You have both given excellent points and used your points well to explain the arguments. If it were possible, I would listen to you two debate for eternity as I know you two will keep things civil. However, we are not people with that kind of time. The debate must be settled. Ladies and gentlemen gathered here, I have thought long and hard about this matter. I must admit, advising all governments in the Realms is quite the daunting task. Normally, I would be uncertain to take this trial. However, I would be derelict in my duty if I didn’t preside over this. After hearing both sides, while points were well made, I cannot, in good conscience, permit any life-form to suffer the yolk of inequality. Therefore…I advise all governments to ensure that Mechanica rights are protected! The court urges the immediate passing of Mechanica rights!” He banged his gavel in a move of finality. Kalo and her group cheered in victory! Transhell, on the other hand, was NOT a happy camper. He just stood there, anger contorting his face into an unnatural shape.

---

Transhell spent most of the victory celebration in his quarters, trying to meditate, the operative word being ‘trying’. He was still angry, his body shaking in an effort to keep himself from flying into a self-destructive rage. His door chimed. “Go away!” he snarled. The person at the door, Elmar, didn’t listen.

“You’re not doing the crew any favors by sitting alone,” remarked Elmar.

“I’m not in the mood for Wood Elf wisdom!” growled Transhell.

“What about plain old Elf wisdom?” quizzed Elmar. “How about we just discuss what’s wrong as Elves? Not Wood Elf and Stone Elf, just Elves.”

“…What’s wrong?!” hissed Transhell. “What’s wrong?! I’ll tell you what’s wrong; the sham trial and the ridiculous decision of the judge!”

“I hardly see it as a sham trial,” replied Elmar.

“Granting kettles like this ship rights?!” snapped Transhell. “That’s not a sham trial?!”

“She is as much a living person as you and me,” answered Elmar.

“That thing shouldn’t have to be alive!” argued Transhell. “I’m sorry, but Altrek had the right idea in arguing against all this!”

“Yet she and her fellows placed their faith in the decision made today,” recalled Elmar.

“Then their faith was misplaced!” roared Transhell. “I was confident that we’d have no more conflicts! The ship being alive only destroyed that dream!”

“We must consider the Realms’ greater good,” countered Elmar.

“I’ve done that my entire life!” shouted Transhell. “What about MY greater good?! Why should I sacrifice anything just for the general good anymore if my sacrifices are being spat on?!”

“I fail to see how your sacrifices were spat on,” remarked Elmar.

“I joined Realmfleet to PRESERVE our current era, not change it!” answered Transhell. “You know what change leads to?! War, that’s what! My dad was broken after the War of the Depths! You know, the war that ended the previous Age of Unity?!”

“Staying the same leads to stagnation,” countered Elmar, “and is a greater impetus to war than change. Chaos and change are neither good or bad, they just ARE. Realmfleet knows this, your father knows this, we ALL know this. It’s how we deal with chaos and change that determines whether it’s good or bad.” Transhell stood silent for a moment, just one moment.

“…YOU DON’T KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT GOOD OR BAD!” roared Transhell. “YOU DON’T KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT ME! I HATE THE SHIP! I HATE THE COURT’S DECISION! I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE THAT SAYS I NEED TO ACCEPT ALL THIS! PUBLISH THAT IN YOUR SCIENCE JOURNAL!” He grabbed his supply of duty uniforms, shoved past Elmar, and stormed to Barmek’s.

---

The mood at Barmek’s was one of celebration! Because she didn’t receive a paycheck yet, Endea was enjoying a free meal. She was talking to Arsha, Gorfanth, and Foresna. “And then the clownfish said,” she wrapped up the joke she was telling, “‘with friends like these, who needs anemones?’” Everyone laughed.

“And Marshii told you that?” asked Foresna.

“Kinda seems out of place for her,” remarked Arsha.

“Speaking of which, where IS Marshii?” asked Gorfanth.

“She’s reconnecting with her family at the Morgonthor Polyp Gardens,” replied Arsha. “She’ll be back tonight.” Just then, Transhell stormed in. “Hey! Transhell! Come join the party!” called Arsha.

“I’m not here to join a party for giving this tub rights that weren’t theirs to begin with!” snarled Transhell.

“Take that kind of talk elsewhere,” directed Arsha. “The rest of us would rather celebrate Mechanica rights being protected.”

“Then celebrate without me!” declared Transhell. “In fact, continue this voyage without me!”

“…What’s THAT supposed to mean?” asked Arsha.

“Captain Royana, your decision to protect the ship’s unwarranted sense of self has led me to believe,” continued Transhell, “that you’re not fit for command. As I don’t have any allies on this ship, a mutiny is out of the question. Therefore, I have only one recourse, since Realmfleet’s not doing anything to give my views any credence.” He then let his duty uniforms drop to the floor. “I’m resigning my commission.”

“…You’re seriously leaving Realmfleet?” scoffed Gorfanth. “Over a new woman gaining the rights that were rightfully due to her?”

“Wake up, bull,” hissed Transhell. Gorfanth’s nostrils flared. Foresna was about to charge at him and defend his spouse, but Gorfanth held him back. “Do you really think this change will be good?” continued Transhell. “Have you really considered all the problems? I have to say, for once, the Divine Ones were wrong to leave it to us. I’m leaving this ship, taking the first shuttle back to the Drelda Forest, and I’m NOT going back to Realmfleet. Go on without me.” He then walked out of the bar.

“Little Elf runt!” growled Foresna. “Just let me at…!”

“Let him run away,” directed Arsha.

“…Captain, I don’t think I understand,” remarked Mr. Barmek.

“Realmfleet is a continually changing force,” explained Arsha. “If he feels that Realmfleet’s wrong, he can leave. To be frank, I feel that we’ll get on better without him. Less chance of Endea hearing that kind of talk, the better. Now, enough about him, we’ve still got a celebration for Endea! This is her day!” The declaration was received well and the party went back to normal.

---

“So, you really ARE leaving,” muttered Transhell’s sister, Dwenshell, over a communicator. “This is a real setback! I’m EXTREMELY disappointed in you!”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you’ll get by!” hissed Transhell as he finished packing his bags.

“Look, I’m gonna be frank here!” snarled Dwenshell. “Somehow, don’t ask me how, Dr. Borg’s lost a lot of people as like-minded as you! In the short term, I say good riddance! We can make do without them! We can’t…”

“Even your son?” asked Transhell.

“…Make do without you!” continued Dwenshell. “You would be a valuable asset! You just need to drop this anti-Mechanica nonsense! If any of us had your talents…!”

“Ones help us all,” groaned another voice.

“Scorpo?” asked Dwenshell. “Is that you? Are…are you recording this?!”

“Yeah,” replied the voice.

“Well, cut it out!” snapped Dwenshell. “It’s annoying, you recording everything!”

“Dr. Borg’s made me her eyes and ears!” protested Scorpo. “This could have repercussions for our campaign!”

“Dwenshell, you know I’ve done a lot of things, right?” asked Transhell. “Things that I bitterly…forget it! My point is, if you’re going to grant your ship the same rights as every other now-living tin can, then there’s no difference between you and Realmfleet! The Over-Splitters are right, you’re a threat to the Realms.”

“You know what your problem is?!” snapped Dwenshell. “You’ve got your head stuck so far up your rear; you can’t see the big picture!” Transhell just switched his communicator off and stormed out of his former quarters, making a beeline towards the ship’s exit.

---

Dwenshell sucked in a breath as she clenched her fists. A man in leather with a mechanical tail and claws on the back of his wrists approached her. He had the Scorpion’s name and registry number on it. It was safe to assume this was Scorpo, the living extension of the Scorpion. “What do we tell Dr. Borg?” asked Scorpo.

“I tell her,” replied Dwenshell, “the recruitment drive was a bust! I don’t need help in lying.”

“It might put you in a more favorable light with her,” remarked Scorpo.

“The truth is less painful,” dismissed Dwenshell. “Just open a channel to her.” Scorpo rolled his eyes.

“…Channel open,” he reported. Dr. Borg’s face filled the screen.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Disastrously,” replied Dwenshell. “He’s decided that the Over-Splitters have a better idea. Scorpo recorded the whole conversation.”

“A pity,” mused Dr. Borg. “We could have used him. Oh well, we’ll just have to send the package without him.”

“Are you serious?!” protested Scorpo.

“Of course,” replied Dr. Borg. “The Realms will never know what hit them.”