Today's Earth date: January 1, 1992

I almost wrote December 32 for my entry today. Honestly, I'm starting to feel silly trying to keep track of what day it is on Earth. That life, my old life is beginning to feel more and more like a dream, like I can't entirely remember existing before this.

Grinding this route gives us a lot of downtime, and Wilmond is starting to talk about post-quest plans. He's putting money away to buy a big retirement home when all of this is done. Going back is impossible in his mind, but the rest of us are hopeful.

-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin

As Wayne and Fergus finished dousing the last two minor brushfires, a group of soldiers galloped down the road toward the farm.

"It seems the neighbors have complained about the noise," Fergus said, sighing.

Wayne took a deep breath. "Let's go have this conversation again."

Fergus nodded. He agreed with Wayne that the most inconvenient part of having system access was constantly having to prove you weren't out to end the world. Fortunately, the family who owned the infested farm was already explaining the situation to seven soldiers when the Zeroes came around to the front of the property.

"This is them," the patriarch said as Wayne and Fergus approached. "They can verify it."

"Good evening, friends," Fergus said.

A small woman with a shaved head stepped out from the group of soldiers and introduced herself as Poltur, the leader of the Iomallach Defense Force. They were technically city guards, but they had the grim seriousness of highly motivated mercenaries. Wayne would later learn that most people called her General Poltur in honor of the power she wielded in the city and the skill with which she yielded it.

"I understand you can confirm shark-rats?" she asked.

Wayne gestured for Poltur to follow him. "We can show you."

The specimens Wayne and Fergus guided the soldiers to weren't in the best condition–on account of the dynamite–but enough of the rats were intact that the hybrid nature of the monsters was plainly visible.

"And these had were-virus tendencies?" Poltur asked, holding the head of a wereratgoldfish in her hands.

"We can confirm that as well," Fergus answered. "We encountered these south of Vientuls. We didn't realize they were were-anythings because they came upon us after dark. We watched these ones turn with the sunset."

"Here… Watch this," Wayne said. He activated Replay, to the stunned reactions of Poltur and her entourage, and waited while they watched the battle play out, including the moment of transformation.

"This isn't the first reported sighting for us either," Poltur said when the Replay ended. "This is the first physical proof, though. In your opinions as Royal Scholars, should we be worried that the virus is contagious?"

Wayne and Fergus looked at one another.

After a moment, Wayne spoke. "Did you get a report about highly organized ratman nests near Cuan?"

"You're the Scholars from the report."

"We are. We saw hybrid rats near Cuan also, but they weren't wererats or made from fish parts. They looked the same day or night but still had other monster pieces attached to them. As Fergus said, we fought these in the dark without knowing they could have a were-virus. One of our party members was bit, and she's fine. Both of those things make me hesitate to blame this on an actual virus."

"Continue," Poltur said and crossed her arms.

"There's a chance this is what they were built to do. The mechanics are similar but maybe not the result of a virus. For how aggressive rats are, you'd think a virus would already be spreading if that's what it was. That's my hope, anyway. If I'm wrong, we'll know soon because I got bit."

"We haven't received any reports of were-activity beyond rats. There is yet hope, but seeing them this close to the city as well as in the Cuts is concerning."

"We saw rats in the Cuts too," Wayne confirmed. "Do you send people into the valley? I got the sense that Iomallach did its best to avoid touching the jungle."

"The worst criminals will run for the Cuts. We don't let them get far. If you learn more about the rats, will you alert me? Reporting to any guard will do."

"Not a problem," Wayne answered.

Wayne and Fergus rode Outlawson around the city to their lodgings instead of passing through the middle. They didn't talk much, but Fergus did share that he advanced to level 13 and learned a new spell from Tunnels & Trolls. Wayne opened his system and went to the party menu to read the description for himself:

Twine Time – Forces the grass to grow in a sudden burst and tangles up your foes.

Anything that facilitated more control of an encounter was a win to Wayne. Fergus agreed.

What time they finally arrived at the Blackwell estate, Wayne couldn't say. All he knew was that it was very late and the house was still very much awake.

Billium spotted Wayne and Fergus as soon as they came through the door, despite their best efforts to quietly slink to their rooms.

"Hot damn, what the hell happened to you guys?"

The two older ladies from the night before looked around the corner to see what Billium meant, followed by three middle aged-men, three middle-aged women, and two college-aged girls. Hector and Vanilli looked over the whole of the crowd from the very back. They were all in swimsuits and had drinks in their hands. Billium rocked a banana hammock that particular night.

"Shit. Is that blood?" Billium asked, squinting to see but unwilling to approach.

"Yes."

"Yours?"

"Mostly not."

"You fellas for sure need a drink then!"

Wayne held up a hand to say thanks but no thanks. "I think we'd rather wash up first."

Fergus nodded.

"Promise me you two will join us when you're feeling clean?"

"I could enjoy a drink," Fergus said.

"Yeah, okay," Wayne agreed. "Give us a bit."

By the time Wayne and Fergus had bathed, the party had drifted back outside with most of the Blackwell guests aimlessly floating about the dark water of the pool.

"Taking jobs without us?" Armond asked, but Wayne couldn't see his face.

"Armond?"

"Yes, Hector and Vanilli are out here too."

"How about Margo and Sammy?"

"They went to town to see some kind of vaudeville show. You're avoiding the subject. Did you two just do a job?"

Wayne sat in one of the poolside lounge chairs and accepted a glass of whisky from the butler. The same butler offered Fergus wine. They had been here for less than two days and the staff already knew Fergus' preferences.

"Didn't mean to," Wayne said. "Stumbled into a nest on a farm, and it ended up being more challenging than we expected."

"What sort of nest?" a female voice in the pool asked.

"Ratmen," Fergus answered. "Would you like to hear the story?"

Several voices, male and female, said that they would.

Wayne neared the end of his second glass of whisky by the time Fergus finished the tale.

"...and to finish them off, Wayne lit the whole field up with explosion magic. The flames were taller than the Iomallach walls and the ground quaked. But when the smoke cleared? All of the rats were dead, and we were alive."

Fergus' version was more or less the truth. He left out the business about the ratmen being were-enhanced. They hadn't discussed being discreet about that, but Wayne was happy to hear Fergus omit those details by default.

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With the story officially concluded, the gathering fractured into several smaller conversations. One or two of the silhouettes on the chairs around the pool looked like they were already asleep.

"Did you get over to the arena today?" Billium asked.

"We did. You were right. Master Sanders has one of the items we're looking for."

"Was he willing to sell?"

Wayne considered Billium for a moment. "How well do you know Master Sanders?"

With the crack of a smile in his voice, Billium answered with a question of his own. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm wondering if I got the read on the man."

"You mean that he's a prick?"

Wayne laughed. "Yes, my experience was along those lines."

"He's got a chip on his shoulder. Despite his financial success, the older families have kept him out of any serious politics. He's a bit of a rogue shark."

"He wouldn't sell, but he was willing to trade. If I agree to fight in the arena, I get the page."

Billium chuckled. "Fuckin' Sanders."

"The monster goes by 'Three Deaths.' Do you know it?"

"Horrific beast. After what happened in Cuan, can't say that I like any monsters being in the city, let alone that one."

"Do you know what it is exactly? He wouldn't say."

"Sanders has been on a roll with rare monsters recently," Billium answered. "He started debuting them a few months ago, building up to the festival." The big man shivered. "They're nasty, dangerous, and no one else has seen them before. That sells a lot of tickets."

Billium echoed the description Wayne had heard when he asked around town about Three Deaths. The only new detail Billium added was that the monster was larger each time it entered the arena. It was four wagons long when he saw it last, but was half that size when he saw it two matches earlier.

"Are you going to fight?" a young female voice asked. Wayne hadn't noticed one of the younger women float to his side of the pool. She must have been listening for some time.

"I don't know."

Water shifted and splashed on the walkway as she leaned over the side of the pool. "I bet you'd get a lot of fans."

Wayne hadn't learned the faces of his new roommates, let alone their voices. Was this one Billium's daughters? An aunt? Someone's wife?

"We have a lot of work to do in the Cuts," Wayne said, leaning back in the lounge chair so his eyes wouldn't go anywhere but up to the stars. "I'd rather focus on that than dance just because someone wants me to."

"The monster yesterday gave me nightmares," the woman said. "It looked like an ettin with tentacles."

"Tentacles?"

"No arms or legs, just four slimy ropes slapping around. It was like they nailed a bunch of monsters together."

Wayne sat forward. "Nailed together?"

"Yeah. So gross. Wherever those things are from, I don't ever want to visit."

"Sorry to mind-message everyone, but we need to have a team meeting first thing in the morning."

With Sammy and Vanilli included, the party gathered in the room Wayne, Armond, and Fergus shared. Wayne used Probe to see if anyone might be listening in but all the other dots on his HUD were elsewhere in the house. Then Wayne used Replay to show the rest of the Zeroes what he and Fergus encountered the night before, which led Wayne to what he learned poolside just a few hours ago.

"Has anyone heard of a monster that looks like an ettin with four tentacles instead of arms and legs?"

Heads shook.

"How about a manaconda with heads at both ends?"

Not those either.

"Wolves with goblin heads?"

Nope.

"How about a three-headed monster that regenerates, breathes fire, and spits poison?"

"Gods, Wayne," Hector said. "We've never seen or heard of any shit like that. What's this about?"

"There's a chance the arena in town is using monsters made from fleshmancy like we've seen the rats do."

The party glanced amongst themselves. "'Chance?'" Armond clarified. "What kinds of odds are we talking?"

"I learned in Cuan that people in this world are fascinated with monsters, the rarer the better. I think it's unlikely that one promoter discovered several new species independently."

"Aye," Armond agreed. "That does sound unlikely."

"And their description is too similar to the abominations we've seen," Fergus added. "Even casual fans remark about how odd they look, like several monsters mushed into one."

Wayne went on to explain that all of this was hypothetical.

No one in the room had seen one of Sanders' monsters in person, so he urged caution about picking any potential conclusion until they knew more. If Sanders got his hands on dwarven tools, that would be unfortunate but also not illegal. The kingdom might decide forging new monsters should be illegal when they heard about it, but if Sanders was making them himself, he was technically not in the wrong.

Armond and Hector both pointed out that arenas usually worked with suppliers for monsters, which brought Wayne to another consideration. If a monster dealer was using fleshmancy, that too was concerning but not illegal.

The worst explanation also felt the most outlandish: If no one tied to Iomallach got their hands on dwarf tech, the only other possible source they knew of was the rats themselves.

"You're saying someone is doing business with ratmen?" Margo asked.

Wayne again urged restraint. "That's the longest of long shots, here," he said. "Right now, that's just a potential explanation. Everyone, remember, we have no evidence for anything whatsoever."

"So let's get some," Hector suggested.

"That's what we're going to do today, but priority number one is that no one gets arrested."

"Shall I open a bottle to celebrate, or am I being presumptuous?" Sanders asked from behind his desk as Wayne and Fergus entered his top-floor office.

"We're close," Wayne said. "I have two requests."

Smiling, Sanders invited the pair to sit in the chairs on the other side of the desk. He had the demeanor of someone who knew they had won.

"First one is easy: We'd like a tour of the grounds. We've never been inside an arena like this, and we'd love to see how it operates, all the way down to the monsters you've got beneath our feet."

"Easy enough, but I will not permit you to see Three Deaths. It's more sporting that way."

"That's fine."

"The other request?"

Fergus leaned forward. "We are concerned about safety and liability. For Wayne to put on a real show, he needs guarantees that the audience is safe and to be indemnified against any responsibility for damage to the grounds, the facilities, or the town in general. Only during the course of the match, of course."

"What audience safety issues do you foresee?"

"Telling you wouldn't be very sporting, would it?" Fergus' grin was genuine, but Sanders' was forced. He didn't appreciate his words being turned against him.

"By now, you've asked around about Three Deaths. Not a single spectator has been harmed in any of my shows–from the action in the arena at least. Brawls in the stands are an inevitability. No spell, weapon, or projectile can leave the pit. We have some very expensive enchantments in place to ensure that remains the case. Killing spectators is bad for business, you see."

"If you can put all of that in writing, we're prepared to agree to your terms. Wayne competes in the arena against Three Deaths and receives the pages as payment as well as the prize purse already due to the winner."

Sanders stood and offered his hand. As he shook Wayne's hand and then Fergus' he said, "I'll have my girl draw up the documents. By the time we finish our tour, they will be ready for your review."

"Splendid."

Fergus had insisted they make a big deal about wanting an ironclad agreement to dissuade any suspicions about their interest in touring the arena. He argued that being more self-interested would put Sanders at ease, and that certainly seemed to work from what Wayne could tell.

Sanders began the tour right there on the top floor, pontificating at great length about the size and magnificence of the arena. Then they worked their way down through VIP boxes with private chefs, a surprisingly robust concessions operation for general spectators, and then descended beneath the grounds.

The facilities for competitors were akin to lockerrooms for athletes. They had four different "holding rooms" for human fighters. Spreading them out kept competitors from sharing a room or from any one room being too crowded. Warming up with bladed weapons like swords and spears was precarious with a lot of people around, it turned out.

All of that was banal to Wayne and Fergus, no more exciting than standing on the employee side of a hotdog stand for a few minutes.

They finally reached the monster cages, several stories below the arena. Lit only by torches and lamps, Sanders led them through their stock of beasts. They had normal predators like lions and bears, but the bulk of the collection were monsters. He had a few dozen goblins for goblin roping and goblin wrestling events and for general cannon fodder if any one fight needed a little more excitement.

He had a few hellhounds, a pair of juvenile wyverns, a juvenile manticore, and several varieties of large wingless lizards that Sanders described only as "dragons." The smallest was the size of a pony. The largest was the size of an elephant.

"Do you catch all these yourself?" Fergus asked. Wayne was impressed with how casually the scholar worked that into the conversation.

"Working with suppliers is far more economical. We have contacts all over the world to help us source the most exciting matches possible."

Sanders stopped the group in the middle of a long, cavernous hallway. Wayne was very aware that the space could accommodate a large monster and the footprints on the dusty pavers suggested many such monsters used this egress during events.

"You've seen it all except for Three Deaths," Sanders said, gesturing to the large iron-reinforced doors at the end of the passage.

"What? They didn't pay enough for the full tour?" A man even taller than Sanders emerged from one of the distant cages. A slimmer man followed and locked the door behind him.

As they approached, Wayne saw that the speaker had a barbarian's physique. His arms were crisscrossed with a variety of scars–from as many bites as blades and claws it seemed–and his dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He was cleanshaven. The other man seemed similarly scarred but much younger. He kept to the back and to the right of his master.

"This is Three Death's next opponent," Sanders said. "It is my pleasure to introduce you to the Zero Hero."

"Ah! So the deal came through." The man shook Wayne's hand and then Fergus'. "Targitaus. Nice to meet you both."

"Are you a competitor?" Fergus asked.

Targitaus laughed. "I deal in rare and desirable monsters. Only the finest specimens for my clients."

"Ahh. What's a monster like Three Deaths go for on the open market? A lot I imagine."

"Discretion is part of the trade, I'm afraid," Targitaus said with practiced ease. "I do not disclose any information about my clients."

"I can respect that," Fergus said.

"Margo, our mark's name is Targitaus," Wayne said with Voice. "Tall, scars, clean shaven, brown ponytail, navy blue tunic. Has a shadow. We're in the southwest corner of the arena, not sure if there's an exit on that side, though."

"On it."

"That's the conclusion of the tour my friends. Shall we execute the agreement and share a bottle of wine?"

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