“Shut up, Brian,” a strange, skinny big one interjected, ineffectively pretending to be angry. “It’s not that funny! It’s only been that one time.”

  “Once is plenty for it to be hilarious. Everyone knows not to eat them,” the Brian voice responded, laughing heartily. “It’s in the damned tutorial they give everybody as soon as we arrive.”

  “What?! That’s why you think I was foolish for trying? Trusting the guild? Rubbish. Knew immediately they weren’t to be trusted.”

  “Like hell you did, Kevin,” a third, higher pitched voice enjoined, scolding the first. “Everybody trusts the guild. Sometimes too much, sure. We’re all fallible, but we’re also all stuck in this together. They’re just as invested in going home as we are.”

  “Susan, Susan. Sweet, trusting, ignorant, sheltered Susan. Never trust any organization claiming they want everyone to succeed. Doesn’t exist.”

  “Altruism exists, you idiot,” the Susan voice retorted, roaring in dismissive laughter. “What, are you saying not to trust your own family? Our team?”

  “Trust no one!” the Kevin voice authoritatively explained, breathless and deadpan.

  “Trust that I’ll have another one of these delicious treats,” a bored Brian voice interrupted, lazily trying to change the subject away from the now heated argument. “What did you say it was?”

  “I don’t know. I think some useless villager donated it. Do you really not trust the team?”

  “Of course not. I check and measure everything personally. Must be certain if I’m to put myself in this much danger. Wouldn’t you?”

  “No, you have to trust people. We wouldn’t get anything done without trust,” the slightly distressed Susan voice confidently lectured. “Don’t you trust me to heal you if you get hurt?”

  “In an absolute sense? Nope. What if you’re hurt? Or you secretly hate me? What if our fearless leader assigns you to a higher priority task? I always carry expensive potions and spent a pretty penny to train my skills in at least some healing. Trust no one. That’s why I get paid the big bucks while you’re still stuck in that sleazy arts district.”

  “I love the arts district!”

  “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”

  “None of this explains why you’d try to clean, cook, and eat a goblin,” the Brian voice sighed out in exasperation, reluctantly returning to the conversation. “What if it was poisonous? No new arrivals have protection against that. Weren’t you trusting in your imprudent self a tad too much?”

  “That’s why I cleaned and cooked it, dummy.”

  “Idiotic, waste of time Earth logic,” the Susan voice whispered under her breath. “That’s what you get for not trusting anyone. Stupidity.”

  “I didn’t know that yet, crazy lady. Not trusting the world as it first presents itself doesn’t magically make you correct all the time. It only puts you on the path to correctness. A very narrow one. Still have to carefully walk it by yourself.”

  “And? What happened?” a larger than usual, gruff big one demanded in a smooth, unflinching monotone.

  “He died,” the Susan voice dryly stated matter of factly. “Now we don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

  “Ha, ha. Her job is to save people, yet all she does is wish for their demise,” the Kevin voice joked. “In the end, it just tasted like dirt. Exactly like dirt. Even the texture. I spat it out.”

  “What did you expect? They’re all so wretched and disgusting.”

  “Susan. How is this so unclear? I am a risk taker. I take risks. That’s literally my job. I expected the potential for a pleasant surprise. It just didn’t pan out that time. Imagine if we could feed an entire population for months after every hoard attack?”

  “No one would ever eat goblin, you idiot. Never. Even if it tasted good.”

  “I know I wouldn’t,” the gruff one quietly added, lost in a thousand mile stare to nowhere. “It would honor them too much to reclaim their flesh.”

  “A forsaken would!”

  “Oh, so now you’re altruistic? Just let them starve. It’s cruel when they live too long.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  “There you go. Wishing death on all your patients again. What if they change their mind? What if they find a way to properly join society without the ladder? How is exploring off the ladder any less worthy of a pursuit than exploring on the ladder? Every day we’re discovering happy little surprises in the new law.”

  “Yes, we make them within the ladder. Always. Never off the ladder.”

  “How do you know they haven’t? Have you checked?”

  “Of course not! They’re so dirty and disgusting. They’re practically goblins. Will you try eating a forsaken too?”

  “Silly, sheltered Susan. You think I haven’t already sampled the ol’ long pig during my adventure tourism days back on Earth?”

  “Ugh, you’re also disgusting. You should eat yourself and die.”

  “You’re right. She really does want her patients to die,” the Brian voice interjected, poking the Susan voice’s arm. “This is a little alarming to learn right before an important expedition.”

  “Thomas! You also think he’s disgusting, right? Right? You’re the only other sane one here that I can trust!”

  Slowly standing up from his kneeling position on the floor, the gruff one turns to face the others with his full body and attention.

  “We may trust that you all pursue this foolishness to forget tomorrow,” the Thomas voice sagely declared. “However, Kevin does have a point about the forsaken. Are they truly a resource that cannot be mined? What if something is missed under the unturned rock? Perhaps the answer was never on the ladder to begin with.”

  “Thomas, no!” the Susan voice emotionally protested. “You can’t be serious!”

  We’ve had enough listening to all this ridiculous, flirtatious bickering. The team definitely needed to blow off some steam before the mission. To deeply bond for what may be the last time. Their survival can’t be guaranteed, after all. However, they can’t live this free forever. There must be a line. We must prepare them for the inevitable failure, even if we succeed. The elder foretold as much. This game can never truly be won. It’s futile. However, we refuse. We absolutely refuse to give up.

  “Enough!” we lightly scolded through anxious, gritted teeth, immediately demanding the entire room’s undivided attention with the jarring reverberations of space naturally emanating from our speech. “Carter, come and join us.”

  The pretentious barrier mage quickly sulked over from his hiding place to join the rest of the group. He’s probably the one that we trust the least. However, he’s taking on the most risk. After Kevin, of course. He also deserves to hear the portion of prophecy intended for them. It’s sad. There’s so much that we can’t tell them. It’ll threaten the mission. It’ll threaten our stubborn attempt. We must at least get this one thing right.

  “Mission departure grows near. After this last briefing, leave immediately to perform any remaining preparation. Any complainers will forfeit their slot on the team.”

  Every head subconsciously bows at our threatening declaration. Our height above them is so far beyond dispute. We could kill every single one, and this world wouldn’t care. Our stature is that great. However, despite the danger, they choose to stay. If only to gain the spilling crumbs of our hard fought wisdom. The mere possibility of crumbs. Is that enough? They bravely volunteered to die for these lies. The least we can do is inform them of the true risk. The true enemies. Or no, is that too dangerous? Do we dare? They’ve lived in those lies for so long already, so what’s another half truth if it can buy more time for our defiance?

  “Sergeant isn’t present, and that’s intentional. He’s receiving a different briefing from the guild. I will personally follow up with him later for his need to know. As such, understand that everything during this briefing is for your ears only. Any leaks whatsoever beyond this room will not be tolerated. Up to and including death.”

  The team looks nervous. This isn’t the normal protocol. They trust the sergeant, after all. Even Kevin, although he’d lie and deny it. However, they shouldn’t. He’s with them after all.

  “Commit the following instructions under the code protocol gamma. The mission setting being what it is, injuries are inevitable. In fact, allow me to share words of prophecy from the elder regarding the mission’s outcome.”

  With those few words, the team’s disciplined silence was completely shattered. Murmurs, questions, and astonishment bounced amongst them recklessly. The fact that I managed to meet with the elder at all was shocking to most. Actually sharing his invaluable, direct words with others was unthinkable. No one directly shares that big of an advantage.

  “Silence! These inevitable injuries will be very grave. Will be unique. Rendered by foes the sorts of which we have never faced before. There are neither experts nor amateurs available to treat such wounds in the entirety of civilized Kyklos.”

  Turning to the medic teams, a wave of anticipatory gloom overtakes their faces and postures.

  “The medic team’s priority will be to stabilize, not save. Not heal. Not cure. However, there is hope.”

  The crowd perks up at our words. Time for the carefully curated secrets.

  “Outside the city, outside the towns, outside the villages. There is another way. Another place. Those of you who make it back unscathed, you must venture out to find it. I command you to find that place, and take all the injured with you.”

  “What?”

  “No!”

  Everyone immediately objected to the outrageous, ambiguous command. Who would want to leave the comfortable cities? The safe, preplanned, always been here cities. Yet, they must if they wish to live.

  “What about you, sir?”

  “The elder’s prophecy provides all of you with this offer of a safe haven. Your sacrifice deserves it. However, I have another role. Even if I am injured, you must leave me here.”

  To be pawns in this damnable, ancient script, I imagine. Playing along will hopefully provide the team with enough cover to escape the consequences of my decision. They say that there’s no love for the wicked. So many terrible, unnecessary atrocities have been committed during our precipitous climb. If true, then why won’t love leave us alone?