The various Principalities of the Coalition each have their own rules and laws, but the Heavenly Court has decreed certain things to be sacrosanct. To each race, their independence from others, and any race that breeds true with itself may request a place upon the Lower Council to address its concerns. Diversity is what makes us all stronger, and each should have its place to shine. Each Principality will decide its own means of caring for the less fortunate who do not qualify.

  – Bellario Bentus, Speaker of the Folk

  Pan had seen plenty of guns. A street rat like him couldn’t survive without seeing a few less pleasant sorts now and then, especially here in the Wasting Road. That was just a fact of life.

  Despite how violent and shady the reputation may be, actually having one pointed at him was still very new.

  The gobling stared right back up at the scowling dwarf, and took a nervous swallow.

  “Therna, I don’t think he’s with them. He’s the delivery boy.”

  It was the elf woman’s voice that cut through Pan’s terror, and also through the glaring expression on the dwarf’s face. The barrel of the gun wavered, but didn’t completely turn away, even when the angry-looking dwarf stepped back.

  “Look at the ears, he’s just an addict,” Therna growled. “And a halfblood, to boot. We’d be doing him a favor.”

  Pan remained frozen as the stern-looking elf walked toward him. She also had a sidearm, but it wasn’t like the dwarf’s. Instead of the boxy, heavy barrel and thick handle of Therna’s, the elf sported a sleek and lightweight design that he’d never seen before. It took a few seconds for his brain to comprehend what he was seeing, since it was so rare in this region.

  Lightweight pistols like that weren’t just for staying hidden. Pan had heard about them – firearms that tapped into the user’s mana instead of a quintessence module. A deadly, versatile weapon exclusively used by powerful mages. No wonder the small group had made such short work of Talc’s gang.

  The appreciation he had for the weapon was marred somewhat when he felt the barrel shove into his stomach, angling upward toward his heart.

  “Bite me and I will end you.” The voice was firm and cold, stated as the elf grabbed Pan’s chin and turned his head to the side, then back to look him dead in the eyes. He clenched his teeth, body still drenched in chill dread, unresisting of the quick yet intense inspection.

  When the elf released him, she rose to her feet and stepped back. “We can’t help who our parents are, Therna. I’ve warned you about this sort of behavior before, you’re too quick to judge. The eyes don’t show any signs of addiction, but his body does have some ‘scope side effects. Prenatal exposure, I’d say.”

  Therna scowled and started to open her mouth, but the elf waved her silent. By this point the other three people in the small group had wandered over to join the curiosity, all three of them male humans. Not a single one of them had any injuries Pan could see, but at least a dozen of Talc’s men lay dead around the shop, some bent at disturbing angles a body shouldn’t bend in.

  “You, gobling,” the elf said suddenly. Her pistol had been holstered somewhere in her jacket, and she now pointed directly at Pan. “Who are you, and why were you hiding back there?”

  Pan gulped again, fighting with a suddenly dry throat. It took a few moments for him to find his voice. “Pan, m-miss. I was just… d-delivering lunch.” He pointed a shaky finger toward one of the mashed and ruined sandwiches nearby. Dimly he realized he still had his satchel, stuffed with several more that hadn’t fallen out. “I heard talking and d-didn’t want to interrupt. Talc can get mad at stuff like that.”

  He paused and glanced over to where he’d been hiding when the fight started. Half of the boxes had toppled over, and he could see the brawny elf man’s legs sticking out from behind the jumble. Then he corrected, weakly, “Used to get mad.”

  That satisfied the elf, and one of the humans walked over and even offered a hand up. Pan lifted a shaky hand, only to see it was smeared in fresh blood. He fought down a gag, his ears sinking, and swapped to the other hand to accept the help. “Thanks…”

  Therna was still glaring at him, but the rest were rummaging through pockets of the corpses, or searching some of the crates. The elf who had come to his aid had already walked off, but the human was looking him over and frowning. “Will you be safe after we leave? I think we shouldn’t let you go until we’re on our way, but will you be in trouble after that?”

  It was an… awkwardly gentle and considerate stance to take from someone who had just murdered multiple people, and who was doubtless going to loot the building. Pan wasn’t sure what to make of it, beyond that his life was probably not in immediate danger. He nodded slowly, then pointed to the elf. “Is she the one in charge?”

  “Yeah, just be careful. She’s in a hurry.” The human gave that advice and then a light pat on the shoulder, before he wandered off to pry open another crate.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Pan took a steadying breath, watching the group of killers move about the shop. Most of the bulkier or expensive merchandise was in a more secure location, so he doubted they were here just to rob the place. It had sounded to him more like an expected contact had turned sour, but the idea that they’d let him just walk out of here would be silly, no matter how considerate they seemed.

  He looked about, then hesitantly made his way over to the small room in the back that the elf had vanished into. Talc called it his ‘office’ even if it was basically a glorified closet, with barely enough room for the huge elf, his desk, and a small chair for someone to discuss business in private. His golden-haired savior was busily rifling through the drawers, searching for something, and she wasn’t too keen on preserving any sort of fiction that she hadn’t been here.

  “Are you uh… looking for something?” Pan was very hesitant to speak here. She’d spared him, but did not seem to be the sort to make casual conversation.

  The woman slammed another drawer closed. “Nothing I can find here. I want smuggler routes that lead from the nearest refinery for kaleidoscope. Not the local stuff, the full strength version. I doubt this moron knew anything about it.” She leveled a stare at Pan. “You’re a delivery boy, I don’t suppose you know a big dealer we can shake down?”

  He shook his head. “Not a big one. My… mom never showed me where she got her stuff. I think she didn’t want me hooked on it.”

  A frown met Pan’s eyes as the elf looked him over. “Sorry for your loss. We’ll let you go as soon as we are ready to leave the port. Can’t let you out sooner.”

  “Yeah… the other guy said the same thing.” The gobling flinched slightly at how obvious he’d made his orphan status, but he wasn’t here for pity. He swallowed his fear and nervousness. “If… you want to know which ships bring it in, I can help with that. I know all the ships and what they bring in.”

  That received a raised eyebrow from the elf, and she stopped rifling through the desk. “You don’t say? It won’t give us a route but that’s a good starting point. Care to share that?”

  Pan’s mouth was dry again, and he could feel the sweat down his back matting his shirt to his frame. A dim part of him thought about how badly he must reek right now, and he latched onto that thought as an anchor of ridiculous mundanity in this deadly and bizarre situation. He braced himself and nodded.

  “I… um… want something from you, first.” He forced the words out by telling himself he was already dead within a year if he didn’t do this now.

  “Don’t listen to him, Priestess!” The loud, familiar voice of Therna spoke out behind Pan, causing the gobling to go rigid in fear. “Goblins will cheat you out of your shirt if you let ‘em! And the halfies are the worst of the bunch. He’ll just rip you off and-”

  While the dwarf went on her rant, the blonde elf had casually drawn her pistol and stepped in close, her arm reaching over Pan’s head without bothering to push him aside. She took a single shot, and Therna’s voice cut off abruptly. Pan heard a heavy thud as the body hit the ground, and his slow turn about revealed Therna’s corpse had a neat, round hole in the forehead.

  “So,” the elf said, brushing past Pan with a few confident steps. The three humans left all stared at the corpse, eyes wide in shock, frozen in whatever task they were doing. “We preach bodily purity. Not blood purity. Therna would not let go of her hatred for orcs and goblins and apparently half-blooded as well. She spoke up too often of this.”

  The pistol was holstered as the elf looked around at the three silent humans. “That is how the Coalition controls us. Bloodlines rule us all because of their ‘purity’ and power. They divide us even as they say they are bringing us together, so we can’t be a threat to the real powers. This rhetoric is dangerous to our mission. I want good people, and we should be more careful of our recruitment.”

  Cultists. Pan had heard Talc say it, but in all the confusion he’d forgotten it. That was a lovely message that the woman preached, but the ruthless murder she’d just done of one of her own allies told Pan everything. She was a fanatic, just like he’d heard. He knew little about the bounty on cultists, and less about the cult themselves, but the zealotry was something he could see in her eyes. Intense, angry eyes. Even the humans looked uncomfortable, glancing between one another. Two of them exchanged whispers out of sight of the Priestess.

  She turned back to him. “So what is it you want from me?”

  Pan froze up, his heart pounding so loudly his pulse roared in his ears. He forced himself to breathe, stammering out, “Th-that’s fine, I can just tell you.”

  The elf’s hand lifted up, palm first, and shut the gobling up. She shook her head, “No, you wanted something. Tell me. Show me what you think you’re worth.”

  He was already having second thoughts about this. Pan appreciated that she’d stood up for him in the face of the dwarf’s prejudice, but that was a far cry from sudden, brutal murder. He hadn’t hated Therna, just wished she would shut up. Now he was caught with her demand, and regretting his own desires that led him into this trap.

  “I… was going to ask you to take me with you,” he admitted slowly. “I’m small, I don’t take much air or food. A-and you have that big dragon ship, right? One more crew wouldn’t be a strain!”

  The arguments came pouring out even as he told himself to shut up, that maybe he didn’t want to go on this ship after all. He clicked his mouth shut. Maybe he could haggle down to just a ride to the next large port. There he could maybe find a ship that he could get a laborer position on.

  Instead, the elf crossed her arms and looked him up and down. “We’ll be going into dangerous places. Probably fighting the Enforcers and smugglers both. We’re under-crewed and badly-armed.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is your life here so bad that you’d want to escape with people like us?”

  That wasn’t the question Pan had been expecting. He also knew that if he didn’t get out fast, he’d die in squalor. He knew his body was falling apart. Goblings don’t live all that long to begin with, and with his faulty mana circuits slowly sapping his life… this would probably be his last chance to do anything of note.

  He nodded, a short motion that he forced out before he could change his mind. Better to die by a zealot’s pistol than starving in the slums.

  One of the humans stepped forward, “Not that I object, Priestess, but I’m not sure we have use for a delivery boy. He’s willing to give us the information even if you don’t take him aboard. Maybe we can offer something else in exchange?”

  Yes, please do that, Pan thought. He knew he was being a coward, but something that could make his last few years here more comfortable would be plenty. He’d accept that. Why hadn’t he asked for money instead?

  The elf nodded to the human, then turned back to Pan. “I might accept your offer. I just have one important question, first?”

  He braced for the interrogation, running his dry tongue around in his mouth, waiting for what she asked.

  “Can you cook?”