No one in this world was truly indispensable, but some men were more disposable than others. Tyson Revel was one such man. Abram, who had given him every opportunity to be more than he was, had now reached the point where he realized it was time to make him go away for good.

To begin with, the disgraceful fool had not responded to Abram's messages in three days. This, all on its own, was completely unacceptable. But even more so was the fact that he'd ignored a direct order. And Abram knew he'd read the order, as his cell phone had registered that he'd both received and looked at it.

Did he want to die? Perhaps. Either way, it was almost certain that Abram would grant his wish. He'd been given his last chance and he'd blown it. There was no hope for him now. His final chance of redemption had been exhausted.

For the first time in his entire life, Tyson had been in a position to be useful to his guild: truly useful. During their final round of communication, Tyson had indicated that, not only had he succeeded in getting Zachys Calador to take him in, but that he'd be allowed to stay on the island of Elendroth, something Abram himself did not foresee. He'd even been accepted into the princess's home. This presented an opportunity for spying and gaining leverage over the Elves, one that had excited and thrilled the People of Virtue's intelligence services. The sheer amount of data he could extract and things he could learn would've finally given some Gods-cursed fucking value to his life.

But not only had he ignored the order, he had completely vanished off grid, his phone unable to be traced. Every high-ranking member of the guild had now had enough of his bullshit. They wanted him gone. And Abram couldn't blame them. He was a stain on the guild's reputation. He was a disgrace. He was bad for their public image, and he couldn't be trusted.

It was time to put him to sleep like the rabid animal he was.

*****

On the third day of traveling down the forever-hall, the time seemed to pass much more quickly than it had on the second for all those present except Zach. Everyone else seemed to be in a better mood, and nobody seemed happier than Tyson, who appeared to be getting along very well with the others, at last making some new friends. In a strange way, Zach, a kid more than ten years younger than the man, was actually proud of him. Right now, he was back to practicing sword-fighting with Zephyr. Zach could also teach him if needed, but he wasn't sure he had the temperament to instruct in the calm, patient way that Zephyr did.

"Raise your guard, Tyson," Zephyr said. "If I was a sword-armed mob, I could cut you so easily. Never, ever lower your guard. You keep that sword raised no matter what."

"I understand, Sir Zeph—ahh, I mean Zephyr."

"Come at me."

Zach watched as Tyson raised his blade high and struck downwards, clashing steel with Zephyr. "Not bad. Try it again."

For his part, Zach was in a seated position with his back against the door to Inn Room 655321 while he ate a buttered roll and drank a bottle of water. Olivir, sitting next to him, slurped a cocktail of chicken and goat's blood through a straw.

"How are ya feeling?" Olivir asked him.

Zach frowned. "Skeptical."

"Of?"

He turned his head to the left and stared at the endless, eternal stretch of inn-room doors that possibly continued on forever. "The idea that I was wrong is starting to settle in. I don't think we're going to find anything here anymore."

"Hmm…" Olivir smiled. "Well, what made you think there might be something in the first place?"

Zach tried his best to explain it, though it wasn't easy. "It was more of a hunch. It was based on what that NPC, Karnzon, said. The impression I got based on his words was that if you've ever looked at something and wondered what was there—that that was the way to find dungeons. And it sort of makes sense, too. Take the entrance to Yorna's, for example. It's just this giant boulder that sticks out in the middle of a field. Why is it there at all? There are no other rocks in the area that come even close to that size."

Olivir slurped at his beverage, then wiped a trickle of blood from his lips. "Well, we can still keep going for another four days. Don't lose hope just yet. For what it's worth, I still think you'll turn out to be right." He patted Zach's thigh then stood up and went to rejoin Kolona. Zach remained seated until it was time to get up and continue onwards. And so resumed the jog down the apparently infinite hallway.

Although the mood among the others was jubilant, for Zach, the time dragged on with painful slowness, and as he passed inn room after inn room, his thoughts began to turn from Albion-4 to Kalana. He missed her. He hadn't seen her in over three days and probably wouldn't see her for a number more. And these thoughts only grew stronger as the day progressed, becoming the sole occupying focus of his mind.

Jogging onwards, foot by foot, he pictured her face in his mind, wondering how she was faring. Was she okay? Were Trelvor and Seiley watching out for her? And what about little Pete? Was he okay? The world was in such a volatile state, and here he was camping out on a hallway carpet every night while a talking cat summoned hallway lightning to roast marshmallows for everyone—something Jimmy had come up with, actually.

"Hey, Fluffles. Can you do this one for me, too?" Jimmy asked, placing one on the carpet after they decided to call it a day.

Under any other circumstance, the idea of eating off the floor would be gross. But given that it was unlikely any foot in history had ever stepped down on it, and also the fact that it was clean to the point of being pristine, it barely mattered.

Zach, setting up his sleeping bag, disengaged from chatter with the others and lay down, deciding to go to sleep early. But even then, the thought of Kalana continued to pester him. She should've been here, dammit. It just wasn't right the way he'd left her all alone. And then there was Tyson, who to the outside world, would have appeared to have "vanished." It only really occurred to Zach right now how much trouble that might cause. Irritated, he got out of his sleeping bag and stood upright. He extended his arms wide, and he could just manage to do so with the space that existed width-wise in the hall; nevertheless, it was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on him.

"You okay?" a voice asked him. He turned around to see Donovan grinning at him.

"Yeah," he said.

"You don't look it."

"I just…I'm thinking about Kalana."

"I figured."

"And something else, too."

"Go on."

Zach looked back the way they had come. "Donovan, I think we should take Tyson back to Galterra, which is what you guys all wanted in the first place. Tyson hasn't checked in with his guild in a couple of days, and I didn't even think until now about how much of a problem that might be."

At this, Donovan frowned. "He's staying with us now."

"Yeah, but if his guild leader—"

"His guild leader is standing right there," Donovan interrupted, pointing at Zephyr. "Haven't you heard? Tyson joined Explorer's Brigade today."

Zach blinked in surprise. "He did what?"

"He joined Explorer's Brigade. You losing your hearing or something?"

Zach, moaning, said, "Donovan, he can't just up and join an adventuring guild. He's not just any political guild member. He's Tyson Revel, the leader of the People of Virtue."

"Former leader," Donovan corrected. "And I'm not sure why you're acting like this is a bad thing. Didn't you just flip out and threaten to go on a rampage just to get us to accept him? Now you want to undo that? You're confusing me, kiddo."

Zach thought for a moment about trying to set the record straight: about explaining to Donovan that he and the others has completely misunderstood the situation and Zach's intentions. But he just didn't have the heart to fire up that conversation right now, so he tried to tackle this from a different angle.

"The problem isn't him being accepted as an adventurer," Zach said. "The problem is him doing so in a way that will intentionally provoke the People of Virtue. We should have Tyson keep his pledge to be an adventurer a secret so his guild at least thinks that everything is carrying on as usual."

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

At the suggestion, Donovan curled his nose as though smelling or tasting something foul. "Hell no," he said. "Look, you fought—and won—the battle for him to be an adventurer, something that, in hindsight, most of us agree with now. We get why you did that. But now you have to let us handle what comes next. There's no halfway. He either becomes one of us or he doesn't. You got him in the door, now you gotta let him walk through it."

"I will. But first I need him to walk back just a few steps until I can think of a way to avoid upsetting the—"

"It's not even up to you," Donovan interrupted. "Tyson has made his choice, and he ain't exactly mincing his words about what he wants."

Zach, becoming frustrated, raised his voice. "Donovan, if Tyson doesn't at least pretend to still be a member of his guild, the one they will hold responsible for that is me. I am the one they sent him to. If he ends up never returning, I'll be in big trouble."

"Nah, see that's what you don't get. They can't do shit to you. The only reason you feel like they can is 'cause you keep playing in their sandbox. If you'd just break ties with them, you can go places they can never reach you. Kiddo, please, listen to me: you're only as chained as you let yourself be. Stop getting involved with them."

Zach could see that this conversation was going absolutely nowhere and that there was precious little chance of that changing. So, with a sigh and a nod, he wrapped up his chat with Donovan and watched as the man moved along and went to go talk with Jimmy.

With nothing better to do, he again got into his sleeping bag and tried to fall asleep.

But all he could do was toss and turn.

*******

The scandal was spreading like wildfire, and Vim, feeling outraged and betrayed, had to resist putting a hole into the screen in his office. He'd been forced to fly back here in a hurry, as things were escalating too fast to be managed in Shadowfall Coast. And now, as he watched an Elvish reporter and a human reporter sitting on a couch together in the newly formed studio in Whispery Woods, he felt his blood pressure begin to rise.

"So, there's been a confession? Are we hearing that correctly?" the beautiful Elvish reporter with red hair and freckles asked of her human colleague beside her.

"That's right. The Elvish have put out a memo earlier today claiming they have a sworn statement from an assassin who claims they were paid to kill resistance leaders in Shadowfall Coast. And let me remind our viewers this goes against the UCH's joint resolution that the Royal Roses also signed onto."

Vim turned it off. Then he buried his face in his hands and unleashed a string of swear words so horrible it might've set a new record for him. He couldn't believe Fylwen would actually go through with this. Now, he was pissed. Really pissed. Standing up, he walked over to the window in his office and looked outside. The front of the guild's skyscraper was absolutely teeming with the citizens of Giant's fall huddled together shouting in support.

Right now, public sentiment in Giant's Fall seemed to remain on his side. Actually, in a somewhat shocking turn, the allegations were making him more popular at home. Public sentiment seemed to have settled on the following: the Elvish media was lying, but even if it was true, so what? And this, Vim knew, was due to regional rage over the bomb dropping on Ogre's Axe. Honestly, Vim doubted there was anything his guild could do in Shadowfall Coast that would lose him support at home.

But everywhere else?

This was a catastrophe. This was going to harm the regions under his control. The People of Virtue were already starting to distance themselves, the Lords of Justice and Defenders of Peace had already strongly condemned the Royal Roses, and even the Children of Order, who typically abstained from getting too deep in politics that didn't affect their island, had rebuked Vim and his actions.

And now the Dwarves and the Orcs are getting involved, he thought angrily.

Just now, the Orcish Queen went on a typical Orcish tirade about how "unacceptable" and "violative of sentient rights" Vim's "alleged actions" were. It was a total nightmare. The world was uniting against him. And thanks to the Elves, he couldn't even have the story censored or suppressed, as the queen had cut their newly formed network, Elvadin Live, off from the regional censors.

Sitting back down in his desk, he tapped a button at the center and said, "Get everyone together for an emergency guild meeting on how to manage the fallout of this," he said. "But before then, see if you can connect me to Queen Vayra."

"Understood, Sir Alazar."

Vim waited for nearly five minutes, tapping his fingers against his desk with agitation when, finally, she said, "Hello, Vim."

"Fylwen," he said, responding to her, his tone starting off intentionally pleasant and warm. "Wow, I didn't know you were into pegging. But one thing, please? Next time, please say something first. It's just I feel like you could've said something first before you"—and then he screamed—"fucked me up the ass by surprise!"

She laughed at him, the witch. "I take it you do not much care for my honesty."

Vim screamed something so loud and so incoherent even he himself didn't know what he said. It could've been anything. He was beside himself with fury. "Why?" he finished. "Why would you backstab me this way?"

At this, Fylwen's tone became darker, angrier, and accusatory. "So, you wish to play the victim here, hm? What about what you put my daughter through, you impish little gnat?"

"Kalana?" he asked, practically shouting her name in a mixture of anger and surprise. "What in the name of fuck did I ever do to her? Last I recall, your daughter threw me into a wall and I didn't even retaliate."

"You destroyed the safety of her safe zone! You forced her to use violence in a way she despises."

Vim was so sickened by the woman's words he almost choked on them. "She could've just minded her own Gods-be-damned business!" Giving into his anger, Vim shouted, "Well, guess what, Fylwen. When my guild rebuilds the shipping ports, and when global trade is reestablished, I'm charging all exports from Whispery Woods a uh…"

Vim was so flustered, angry, and outraged he didn't even put any thought into what he said. "I'm charging a fucking billion-point-seven percent tax! On everything!"

"Really, Vim? A billion-percent?"

"Billion-point-seven," he corrected, even as he was completely aware of how ridiculous and stupid he sounded. He was too furious to back down. Obviously, he couldn't actually charge that much. But it felt good to say. In fact, he should've just said a quadrillion while he was at it. But as Fylwen again began chuckling over the line as if to mock him, he growled and decided to say something she might take seriously.

"On second thought, no, there will be no tax. Because the entire Whispery Woods region is banned! You want your grain shipped? Get in the ocean and swim it there!"

"Oh, stop. You'll get over it. Now, cease this childish tantrum and let's instead discuss how you're going to have your people stand down and allow Elvish security forces to take over peacekeeping operations in the city."

Vim's temper was already too extreme to get any worse. But it almost did. "Shadowfall Coast will go to the Royal Roses," he said. "The Elves are not going to control this region!"

"Of course not. Almost everyone has accepted the legitimacy of your guild's claim."

"So then how can you expect a guild's forces not to police its own region?"

"It's not completely unheard of, is it?"

"It's unusual. It's embarrassing. If my guild controls Shadowfall Coast, your guild has no business being in charge of law and order there."

"Perhaps not," Fylwen said. "But I'd argue that once the Royal Roses began assassinating their political enemies, that sort of changed things, no?"

Vim bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as she used that term the Elvish media had begun using: "political enemy." It was a talking point the Elves and the Lords of Justice had begun using to describe the resistance leaders. His guild, much like the People of Virtue, rightfully still used the term combatants or insurgency. Royal Roses' current policy was to deny that these were members of any recognized political group and were instead armed combatants and possibly even terrorists.

"I hope you know that the relationship between the guild of Elvadin and the Royal Roses is forever destroyed," Vim said to her. "There's no way I'll ever forgive you for this."

She laughed at him yet again. "You'll be over this by tomorrow."

"Is that right? And how can you possibly say this?"

"Because I've finally found a way to make good on my promise to help you rebuild Ogre's Axe, you fool."

"You what?" he asked, caught off guard, not even sure he was hearing her correctly. "What was that?"

"Unbeknownst to you, I've been engaging in quite intense diplomatic discussions with the Orcish queen, and after pleading your case to her, she's agreed to dispatch eight-hundred Orcish stonemasons to Giant's Fall as early as the beginning of next month."

Vim was stunned. "You…you are serious?"

"Yes, Gnome."

"And how much is this going to cost me?"

"I've paid for all of it."

Vim tried to respond, but now, he was speechless and unsure of how to respond. There must have been some trick here. Some deception.

But for all his anger, for all his rage, and for all that his ego mattered to him, if there was one thing in this world that Vim would always put above himself it was his people. And the people of Ogre's Axe, at least those who had survived, were now homeless and suffering. The magnitude of the disaster was impossible to exaggerate. And the Orcs…they were the only race on Galterra who could build a city in years as opposed to decades. If anyone could rebuild Ogre's Axe as good as it was before, it was them. But of course, this did raise one issue that was impossible to ignore.

"If you're telling me the truth, and I'll assume you are, our timetable internally for rebuilding Ogre's Axe is thirty to forty-five years."

"Hmm? Well then, you should rejoice, for I hear it shall take no longer than five."

"No, no, you don't understand," Vim said. "We don't have the population to even inhabit it. A million lives will take time to replace."

"Only if you insist that they be humans born in Giant's Fall."

Once again, Vim frowned. It seemed like she was going to suggest something that was completely unacceptable. "Okay, now you wait a Gods-be-damned second. If you think I'm taking in South Bastian thugs, you have another thing—"

"No, you fool! I'm referring to the Orcs. The Stone-Fist tribe. The overcrowding has become unbearable in their city. They seek a new home."

"Oh," Vim said, his anger dulling. "Yeah, we can host Orcs. My people here don't have a problem with other races. We're the only guild in all of humanity that welcomes them. As long as you're not suggesting we fill the rebuilt Ogre's Axe with South Bastian refugees, this works out well for me. I'm guessing the Orc Queen would like to meet and finalize things, yes? She hasn't reached out to me about any of this yet, which is unusual."

At this, Fylwen went silent. And now, Vim became nervous. "What's wrong? Why aren't you saying anything?"

"I cannot explain her reasoning or logic, but the queen wishes to speak with a particular member of your guild. She says she will speak to him and him alone."

"Who?"

"Zachys Calador."

And now, Vim was right back to furious. Because aside from how little sense this made, it would, more importantly, mean trying to convince Zach to do something useful for the Royal Roses when all that boy ever wanted to do was play with his friends in dungeons and complain about how tired he was. The fact he had even been motivated enough to rescue Vim was something so inexplicable and baffling that Vim still did not understand it.

Is it even possible to get him to meet the queen?

Probably, but with Zach, it wouldn't come easy.

So basically, he would now have to exert a historic amount of effort sweet-talking Zach into this which would be almost as torturous as that prison the Guild of Gentlemen had kept him in. Gods Dammit!