Everybody Loves Large Chests

Thomas Bauer was unremarkable in every way. Average height, average weight, average build, average looks, average intelligence - the list went on. The only extraordinary thing about him was just how ordinary he was, a trend that had begun since the day he was born. He had a normal family and a peaceful upbringing in a quiet corner of the Lodrak Empire’s countryside where absolutely nothing happened. He hadn’t gone on any wild adventures, hadn’t participated in any wars, and, for that matter, had never been involved with anything more dramatic than a drunken brawl in front of a pub. His future seemed just as uneventful and lacking in excitement, which was precisely what Thomas wanted.

To that end, the man had found employment under the Harrowmont family. It was a lesser noble house that presided over a region referred to as the Blue Valleys. It was the most fertile territory within the Empire’s heartlands, situated just east of the capital city. Their main concerns were feeding the people, not waging war, making breakthroughs, or exploring the unknown. It was without a doubt a vital province, but one the rest of the glory-seeking aristocracy scoffed at. This was, in part, why the Harrowmonts were often regarded as plebeian and unworthy of nobility by their peers.

Thomas’ own efforts had also contributed towards that reputation. The Blue Valleys’ crop output wouldn’t have been as efficient or bountiful if not for the senior Scribe’s number-crunching. He balanced accounts, took inventory, allocated budgets, distributed wages, and generally made sure goods and services got to where they needed to be on time. In some ways, the dull drudgery of all that paperwork was perfectly suited to such an unambitious man. Granted, he wasn’t particularly good at it, but he had still done an adequate job. This allowed the rest of the farming province to operate smoothly and without incident, which, in turn, meant that the Blue Valleys were rarely the subject of scrutiny, scandal, or attention.

And yet despite all that, the man somehow found himself aboard an Imperial warship alongside the nation’s brightest minds, strongest soldiers, and bravest adventurers. Not only that, but they were sailing straight into the Iris. The unceasing thunderstorm at the heart of the Oculus Sea was no place for the timid, middle-aged, brown-haired, bespectacled man called Thomas Bauer. In fact, this was exactly the sort of thing he had avoided for the entirety of his life. His biggest worry for the day should have been whether a shipment of horseshoes would arrive on schedule. Instead he was clinging onto the railing of a ship for dear life while the tempestuous sea smashed against its hull mere meters beneath his feet.

“Come now, Mr. Bauer. Such behavior is unbefitting of your post,” Lady Harrowmont chided him. “Show some backbone for once in your life and stand up straight.”

“Y-yes, milady,” he replied weakly as he struggled to maintain his posture.

The boss-lady was far more strict and unforgiving than one might imagine, given her family’s reputation. She was barely in her mid-twenties, yet had an air of authority and confidence around her that rivaled that of war-hardened generals. It wasn’t an attitude born of arrogance or malice, but necessity. She had been chosen as one of the people meant to represent the Lodrak Empire’s interests during the upcoming Gorogian Summit. The last thing she wanted was to besmirch her nation and her family before the eyes of the world’s leaders, so she treated the occasion with the severity it deserved. She was also desperately trying to hide just how out of her depth she actually was.

Irma Harrowmont was far from the ideal choice for a diplomat at an international conference. She knew that, and the rest of the delegation also knew that. However, the Empire didn’t have many options. Between the disastrous war from a few years ago and the Inquisition’s relentless stamping out of corruption, the Empire’s royal court had thinned significantly. One might say it was a good thing that only those deemed trustworthy and above corruption were left in charge, but there were too few of them to handle the enormous workload. On top of that, the Emperor had ordered the royal court to focus on internal affairs almost exclusively. The nation simply did not have spare administrative manpower to commit significant resources to the Gorogian Summit.

The Harrowmonts were thus called to represent the Empire at the world stage. They hadn’t been the royal court’s first choice, but they were suitable to the task nonetheless. Though only a second-generation noble house, the family had a spotless reputation and was far more in tune with the commoners’ wants and needs. More importantly, they didn’t have any extreme views or beliefs that would cause international tension. As the sole heir to the family title, the steadfast Irma Harrowmont seemed like the best available candidate to promote the nation’s stability and recovery at the world stage.

Looking at things objectively, it seemed clear that the Summit was pretty low on Emperor Joseph’s priorities. After all, he was sending a second-rate representative instead of personally attending. In reality, the man refused to go anywhere that didn’t have at least three layers of reinforced stone between himself and the open sky. This paranoid behavior had nothing to do with the ‘assassination attempt’ from six months ago. Or so his personal attendants claimed. Whatever the case may have been, the Emperor was hardly the only leader that was wracked with unease and fear. A Shift was in effect, and, like always, the world had failed to notice it until it was already in full swing.

This was precisely why the Gorogian Summit had been called, much as it had been the last five times the world had been faced with rapid, widespread change. The conference served as neutral grounds, a venue where various nations, factions, and races could momentarily put aside their grudges and form mutually beneficial agreements. From a more cynical perspective, it was an excuse for greedy nobles and politicians to make backroom deals with impunity. Regardless of one’s stance on the matter, there was no denying that a Shift was a global issue that concerned everyone, and that the Summit was a necessary step towards restoring order.

Knowing that did little to ease Thomas’ nerves, of course. The whole thing seemed so beyond his pay grade that it was mind-boggling. Admittedly it wasn’t as if he would actually participate in any talks. As Lady Harrowmont’s personal Scribe, he was there only to take minutes, jot down notes, and prepare contracts. The baffling thing was that she had somehow chosen to bring him instead of any of the other, far more qualified Scribes in her employ. He couldn’t fathom why she had done that.

He then realized that he had never asked, and then proceeded to do so.

“Milady Harrowmont, if I may inquire, why did you choose to bring me as your personal assistant?”

Though it was far too late to do anything about it, he figured that he deserved an explanation at the least.

“Do you not think yourself up to the task, Mr. Bauer?” she asked calmly.

“Not at all. I feel confident I will perform adequately, but I feel as though Marshal or Tirebia would be far better suited to this sort of environment.”

“I tend to agree with you. Both of them are excellent and talented employees. However, they are unsuited for the task at hand.”

“Is it because one of them’s a gnome and the other’s an elf?”

Irma showed the tiniest of smiles at that predictable assumption. Her homeland had a predominantly human population, so she understood why people were quick to presume that they were favored above other enlightened races. It was true, to an extent. Pretending that racial bias didn’t exist within the Empire was ludicrous. It was only natural for a nation to cater to their own people, whether that was consciously or subconsciously. The other civilizations on the continent were no different in that regard.

However, such things had nothing to do with Irma’s choice of personal assistant.

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous,” she hardened her expression. “Ability is far more important than race or lineage. That is one of the core values that the Empire was built on, and my family is a prime example of that. We clawed our way up from the dirt to get to where we are, and I’m not going to let some-”

The woman had to bite down on her lip to keep herself from ranting. It was a painful habit that she had forced herself to pick up. A noble airing out their grievances in public was a good way to injure egos and make enemies, and the Harrowmonts had sharper tongues than most. It was just one of the many factors that led to them being seen as uncultured bumpkins by the rest of the aristocracy. What was left of it, at least.

“This is about nerves,” Irma continued after a pause. “I’m about to walk into unknown territory to face down individuals who are inconceivably more powerful than me in every way. I fear I may lose myself in that sort of atmosphere. That’s why I need someone as consistently mediocre as you to keep me grounded.”

It was the first time Thomas had ever been called ‘consistently mediocre,’ and he wasn’t sure if it was meant as a compliment or an insult. On second thought, it was probably neither. The young Lady Harrowmont had never been one to mince words, regardless of who she was speaking to. She had merely stated a fact, and the Scribe wasn’t about to argue with reality. Still, now that he knew the details behind his assignment, he felt strangely inspired. It also helped that the young Lady Harrowmont was easy on the eyes. Thomas was, after all, a painfully average guy. There was no way he wouldn’t feel moved when a beautiful woman told him she was relying on him, even if it was for a fairly silly reason.

This burst of bravado only lasted for about half an hour, right up until the water tornadoes came into view. Seeing massive pillars of foamy seawater that were being pulled up into the sky by impossible winds was too much for the humble Scribe. He had been briefed on the Oculus Sea’s anomalous weather formations, but seeing those things in person was a far more intense experience than being told about them in a comfortable meeting room. Thomas thus found himself clinging to the railing while whimpering once more. Not even Lady Harrowmont could blame him, though. She herself was uncertain as to how anyone was supposed to navigate such treacherous waters, but she trusted in the rest of the Imperial delegation to handle it.

As she soon found out, however, none of them had a clue as to how to proceed. Those oversized waterspouts caused chaotic circular currents that could capsize any vessel that dared challenge them. When questioned as to how they expected to get past the curtain of water, the ship’s navigator could offer only the truth - they weren’t. They had been told to fend off the storms while maintaining position in that general area until someone ‘came to pick them up.’

Irma had to hold back the urge to verbally rip the man apart for not telling her all of this sooner. She couldn’t blame him for keeping quiet. The island where the Gorogian Summit was supposed to take place was a well-kept secret. The young lady had no idea that it even existed until about a month ago. All things considered, it made sense that reaching it would be no simple matter. However, at that point in time and in that particular place, she had half a mind to order the crew to turn that tub around and get everyone back to dry land.

It was a good thing she hesitated, as mere minutes later both the vertical currents and the tempestuous clouds began drifting to the left and right. It was as if the rain and sky both parted to make way for the delegation, leaving a stretch of calm, sunny seas that was barely a kilometer wide. There was even an ideal tailwind to push the ship forward. The crew took the hint and immediately proceeded down the nautical highway. Once they passed the threshold of those nigh-impassable waterspouts, the curtain of water closed behind them. One would expect the terrible weather to instantly resume thrashing the vessel, but it would appear the delegation had entered the so-called eye of the storm. Though still cloudy, windy, and drizzling, this part of the Oculus Sea was infinitely easier to traverse than the nightmarish tempest they had been struggling against for hours prior.

More importantly, now that they had made it this far, the crew could easily see their destination. It was a relatively small landmass only a few kilometers apart, but that was only the surface. In truth, what looked like an island was actually the summit of Gravestone Mountain. It was the only part of the ancient Adams Theocracy’s territory that hadn’t sunk beneath the waves. Simply looking at it made it impossible to deny that it was somehow linked to the never-ceasing storm that surrounded it. It sparked the imagination of the seasoned adventurers and learned scholars aboard the ship, who immediately began murmuring theories and sharing assumptions.

Lady Harrowmont was quick to remind the rest of the delegation that they weren’t there to study freak meteorological formations. She further illustrated her point by drawing attention to the numerous vessels already moored around the island, each of which was flying a foreign flag. That seemed to snap both the crew and the passengers out of their flights of fancy. The spotters had already reported that a strange structure rested roughly in the middle of the sunken mountain’s summit. It was obviously the meeting place for the international conference, so the mariners wasted no time in getting there. They quickly steered their warship to a suitable spot just off the stone shore and disembarked via rowboats.

Lady Harrowmont and Mr. Bauer were, naturally, on the first boat to make landfall. Their armed escort consisted of six of the Empire’s most elite soldiers, three of whom were Rankers. However, they all suddenly stumbled and started falling over themselves the instant they set foot on the island. It was as if all of the strength in their arms and legs had suddenly disappeared. Even the Wizard and Priest found themselves struggling to remain on their feet despite the fact that their equipment was light enough for even Thomas to bear. The only unaffected ones were the noblewoman and her assistant - the two noncombatants among them. This turn of events naturally led the seasoned veterans to draw a reasonable conclusion.

“Get down, milady!” the squad leader bellowed. “This must be an enemy attack!”

“Gux assures you this is no act of aggression.”

A disembodied voice suddenly filled all of their heads.

“What you are experiencing is the ancient magic that rests upon this hallowed place,” it continued. “Lay down your arms, strip away your armor, and abandon your thoughts of conflict. Only then will you be permitted to proceed.”

“Wait, Gux?” Irma’s eyes narrowed. “The Hero of Rain?”

“Quite so,” the voice spoke once more. “Gux is pleased to make your acquaintance, honored guest.”

“Do as he says,” she told her escorts.

“But, milady-”

“That’s an order, Captain.”

“… As you say, milady.”

The man didn’t like it one bit, but he nevertheless obeyed. He had been told that Lady Harrowmont was in charge of this delegation, and he wasn’t about to break the chain of command without very good cause. For what it was worth, he knew that the Hero of Rain was rather infamous for his unwavering neutrality. He was rumored to have traveled the world a dozen times over, a feat that would’ve been practically impossible if he aligned himself with one political power or another. Therefore, it stood to reason that whatever forces the foreign nations brought would suffer the same treatment. The Hero was also likely responsible for giving their vessel safe passage through that wall of water.

After thinking about it for a second, Lady Harrowmont’s orders made perfect sense, but no soldier worth their scars would ever be happy about being forced to disarm.

“Send word to the rest of the delegation to save themselves the trouble and come unarmed,” the woman in charge commanded. “We’re going on ahead. Come, Mr. Bauer.”

“Right away, milady.”

As she walked towards the plain palace in the middle of the island, Irma took the liberty of glancing towards the other attendees’ beacheads. She was no expert on such things, but she had the distinct impression that most of the other delegations were still making themselves comfortable and adapting to the island’s forced pacification field. It would appear that, though the Lodrak Empire was the last to arrive, it was only by a matter of hours. This was good, as she imagined it would make her look incompetent if she was somehow late to the Summit. Showing weakness in front of foreign powers was something she wanted to avoid if at all possible.

Speaking of which, it truly did seem like the rest of the world had shown up for this delegation. While on the ship, Irma and her advisor had already identified the flags of the three other major powers on Atica - the Ishigar Republic, the Horkensaft Kingdom, and the Sovereign States Alliance. The Eight Tribes that dwelled on Velos to the far south were also present, though it would appear that a few influential non-government organizations had also been invited to the Summit. Namely the Steel Crusade, the United Heroes’ League, and the Holy Inquisition, all of whom were attending as independent entities.

Merely thinking about the last of those made Irma bite down on her lip in frustration. She had been shocked as much as the rest of her countrymen when Grand Inquisitor Law officially cut ties with the Empire three months ago, shortly after the new year had started. He had his reasons, of course. He wanted the religious organization to be free of political influences that might twist or corrupt its purpose, as he planned to keep the Formerly-Imperial Inquisition going for decades ahead. They were still based on Empire territory, obeyed all of its laws, and paid all of the taxes, but wanted full autonomy that officially wasn’t beholden to anyone but the Goddess Teresa herself.

What Irma took issue was the timing of this move. The fact that it was declared mere days before the Summit was called was incredibly shady, to say the least. If not for that, then they wouldn’t have been given a seat at the conference. For supposedly wanting to avoid politics, Sigmund Law sure wasn’t hesitating to employ them in order to further his organization’s agenda. Then there was the idea that the Inquisition had gutted the Empire’s aristocracy only to then seemingly abandon it. There were even murmurings that the Church of Teresa might follow suit. If that were to happen, then civil war within the Empire seemed like a very real possibility. There was only so much distrust the people could have in their government before they took up arms against it. Thankfully the commoners weren’t plagued by famine, riots, disease, or any other crisis that threatened to destabilize the nation further, otherwise a revolution seemed inevitable.

“Milady,” Thomas whispered. “Your lip is bleeding.”

In her frustration she had been biting down on it so hard that she had broken the skin without realizing.

“… Thank you, Mr. Bauer,” she wiped away the blood with a napkin. “And keep up the good work.”

“Erm. I shall endeavor to do so, milady.”

Thomas had no idea what ‘good work’ she was referring to, so he just took the compliment at face value.

With her mind back on the job, Irma focused on the strange castle in front of her. It was more of a series of structures than a single building, consisting of nine circular towers spread out equally around a barn-sized dome. They were built out of stone and wood, with designs that were bland but functional. Someone had taken the liberty of hanging large banners from each spire, signifying which faction would be housed where. Lady Harrowmont took the obvious hint and went straight for the tower draped in the Empire’s heraldry.

The interior was more comfortable and well-furnished than the drab exterior would suggest. It had living space for twenty to thirty people, including bedrooms, washrooms, offices, kitchens, common areas, and a well-stocked pantry. It was no grand hotel or royal palace, but it would still serve as comfortable lodgings for the duration of the event. Such accommodations were necessary because there was no way of knowing when the Summit would end. The fate of the civilized world rested on the decisions that would be made here, meaning the conference would last for as long as it needed to.

Irma wasted no time in settling in and began changing out of her travel attire as soon as her servants brought her personal effects over from the ship. A mental note from Gux had informed her - and presumably the other representatives - that the first meeting would take place in less than an hour. As someone fully immersed in her role as a noble lady of fine upbringing, Irma was quite adamant about looking her best. She tied off her long blond curls in a graceful ponytail, masked her sun-kissed skin with a thin layer of make-up, picked up a stylish gold-and-blue gown, and topped things off with a tasteful selection of jewelry. When she finally emerged from her newly claimed room, she looked fit to be a queen. An ice queen, to be exact. Her enhanced beauty combined with her strict and serious attitude to give her an air of cold indifference that made it clear she wasn’t here for small talk.

With her preparations complete, Lady Harrowmont marched into the central dome accompanied by two other people. To her right was Thomas, who was yet again in the process of losing his shit. To her left was Mr. Fullgrim, the ambassador that had been responsible for managing the tenuous relations between the Empire and the Republic following the Calamity Conflict. The pudgy man was one of the nation’s most experienced diplomats and was there to provide relevant advice and information for dealing with the other countries. He was far more qualified than Irma to serve as chief representative, but couldn’t as he was not of noble stature.

The interior of the stone dome was dominated by an obscenely large stone ring that would serve as a table. It was easily ten meters in diameter along the outside and had designated seats for each attending party. The center space had an elevated circular podium, presumably where whoever was talking would stand so that they could be heard by everyone else at the table. The symbolism of this setup was painfully obvious, to the point where Irma didn’t even bother thinking about it. She just quietly and politely took her seat and discreetly scanned the room as the other ambassadors and their respective aides filed in.

Once all nine groups were present, a raptor wrapped in dull-green and sky-blue robes took the center stage. He casually floated over to it while maintaining a cross-legged sitting position and began speaking.

“Gux welcomes one and all to the Gorogian Summit,” he spoke loudly and clearly. “Gux has been chosen by the Goddess Zephyra to organize and preside over the proceedings as Speaker. Participants should keep in mind that the role of Speaker is that of facilitator, and does not extend beyond ensuring that the Summit is conducted in a fair, balanced, and productive fashion. Gux asks that all honored guests respect the authority of the Speaker, and treat one another as equals. Failure to do so will lead to the offending guest’s expulsion from the meeting, and possibly the Summit.”

There were some disgruntled murmurings around the room. As one might expect, world leaders did not exactly like the idea of having anyone tell them what to do. Thankfully all of them managed to push their personal egos aside and none made any audible complaints.

“As the first point of order,” Gux continued, “the Speaker will formally announce and introduce all main participants.”

He then turned straight towards the human delegation.

“The Speaker recognizes Lady Irma Harrowmont, of the Lodrak Empire.”

Being put on the spot like that made the woman freeze, but an immediate nudge from Mr. Fullgrim snapped her out of it. She rose from her seat, put one hand on her chest, the other behind her waist, then bowed gracefully. It was a good thing she had practiced that greeting rigorously in the days leading up to the conference, otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to pull it off as smoothly.

“The Lodrak Empire recognizes the Speaker of the Gorogian Summit,” she said respectfully, then sat back down.

Gux nodded approvingly, then turned to the seat immediately to her left.

“The Speaker recognizes Exarch Juniper Kallahan, of the Ishigar Republic.”

The elf in question was an older gentleman with pale green hair, sunken cheeks, and narrow eyes. He had just the right amount of wrinkles to make him look wise and dignified. He was flanked on either side by slightly younger but equally elegant elves, both of whom were also male. All three of them were wearing traditional elven robes the color of healthy brown bark. Their attire was plain and devoid of all decoration aside from the silver-and-black shoulder patches that signified their allegiance.

“The Ishigar Republic recognizes the Speaker of the Gorogian Summit.”

He replied exactly as Irma had, after which the lizard-man in the middle moved to the next clockwise-oriented seat.

“The Speaker recognizes King Magnus Strongarm the Fourth, of the Horkensaft Kingdom.”

A simple glance told one all they needed to know about the regent in question. He was decked out with ceremonial plate armor that made him look exceptionally stout. His head was adorned with an ornate open-faced helmet that also doubled as a crown. A massive overflowing ginger beard spilled out from his chin, completely obscuring the lower half of his otherwise rough visage. The look in his eyes was one of deep wisdom. Either that or he was sober for the first time in a decade and was worried whether the cumulative hangover would make his head explode. It was difficult to tell with all that hair in the way, especially the overgrown eyebrows. Simply put, he looked like the dwarfiest dwarf that ever dwarved. His only assistant was a gnomish gentleman in black coattails, who seemed more like a butler than a Scribe or advisor.

“The Horkensaft Kingdom recognizes the Speaker of the Gorogian Summit.”

Gux wasted no time and immediately introduced the next attendee.

“The Speaker recognizes Sultan Ali Arsalan, of the Sovereign States Alliance.”

The person in question was a jolly-looking dog-tailed beastkin that looked strikingly comical in comparison to his peers. He had a thick gray moustache that was curved upwards, a short stature and rotund belly that almost made him look like a ball with limbs, and a massive jeweled turban almost twice as large as his head. Much like King Strongarm, his facial hair made it difficult to see his mouth. However, his heightened cheeks and pleasantly half-closed eyes made it clear he had a wide smile. His two advisors were a black-haired human woman who looked incredibly embarrassed to be seen with him, and a masked man that, judging by the horribly pale skin on his hands, was one of the nosferatu.

“Hm? Ah yes. Hello, and all that.”

He waved absentmindedly without even bothering to stand up. It was a thoroughly casual and seemingly disrespectful greeting that drew questioning looks from everyone present, especially his advisors. However, Gux didn’t seem bothered in the slightest and just kept the introductions going.

“The Speaker recognizes Matriarch Vivianne de Poix, of the Council of Saphrina.”

“Je suis ravi de vous voir, mon ami.”

The unquestionably oddest individual in the room also had the strangest greeting. Irma was able to identify this woman as one of the krymer even though it was the first time she was seeing one in person. The fins, tail, eyes, and skin kind of gave it away, as did the hovering globe of water that Vivianne was floating in. She stood out so much that it had taken Lady Harrowmont an immense amount of self-control to not stare at her directly. Thomas, on the other hand, was not as tactful. He practically couldn’t tear his eyes off of the bizarre woman. Not only that, but he seemed to be ogling her slightly. It was a natural reaction given the Matriarch’s striking figure and borderline scandalous outfit, which was best described as a formal bikini. It was such a bizarre sight that one would be forgiven for not noticing the hunched-over figure in the cumbersome full body diving suit next to her.

“The Speaker wishes to remind the Matriarch that she is required to speak Atican for the remainder of the Summit.”

“Apologies,” she bowed her head. “It was, how you say, a slip of the tongue.”

While that exchange was going on, a certain Scribe raised his hand and sheepishly called out.

“E-excuse me, Mr. Speaker?”

Gux spun around in the air to face him, completely unperturbed.

“The Speaker will hear Mr. Thomas Bauer, of the Lodrak Empire.”

The entire room turned to stare at the remarkably unremarkable man at those words.

“Ah, yes,” he adjusted his spectacles, seemingly unaware of the gazes upon him. “I would like to ask the Matriarch to spell out her full name. For- for the record, you see.”

Though his maxed out Language Comprehension Skill allowed him to accurately jot down her foreign words - including an accurate translation - things like given names were beyond its scope. He couldn’t just hazard a guess at its spelling, either, as that would compromise the transcripts he had been rigorously taking the entire time. All of it was done by hand, of course, but the Advanced Penmanship Skill made sure that the Scribe’s handwriting was quick, clean, and devoid of errors.

That aside, Thomas had no idea how to resolve the thoroughly inconsequential matter of Vivianne’s last name other than approaching it in the most basic way imaginable.

“But of course,” the krymer Matriarch replied in that exotic, sweet tone of voice without skipping a beat. “It is V-i-v-i-a-n-n-e, d-e, P-o-i-x.”

“Oh, excellent. My thanks, Madam de Poix.”

The Scribe immediately began filling in the gaps in his notes, still oblivious to the disturbance he had caused. His fellow Imperial delegates looked like they wanted to strangle him, and perhaps themselves afterwards. Thankfully, the other envoys took the awkward situation in good humor. Some snorted quietly while others shook their heads, but none of them would commit the incident to memory. Except for the other Scribes in the room, of course. They had been equally stumped regarding the krymer’s name, but, unlike Thomas, were far too wary of their position to speak up about it.

“The Speaker recognizes Chief Oro of Clan Tuck, of the Eight Tribes of Velos.”

Following the strangely sensual fish-lady and the momentary interruption was the introduction of the second major oddity in the room. Another woman, though it wasn’t immediately obvious to anyone unfamiliar with raptor biology. She had a slender, serpentine figure with an elongated face and neck. Wild patterns of red, blue, white, and black tattoos covered her smooth, yellow-green scales. She was sporting thick tribal garb consisting of a poncho-like top, a knee-length skirt, and several ornaments of polished bone. The outfit as a whole was colorful and frilly, like something one might expect to see at a carnival. It was a stark contrast to the sharp and elegant attire of the other attendees, signifying a drastic difference in culture. The two raptors by her side had similar appearances, aside from their masculine proportions and crocodilian facial features.

“A pleasure to be here,” Oro’s voice had a slight hiss to it.

“The Speaker recognizes Nao Shoki, of the United Heroes’ League.”

The Hero of Magic was up next, drawing a mix of curiosity and surprise from most of the others. They all knew who he was by name and title, but this was the first time most of them had seen him in person. The uncanny way that his extraordinarily youthful appearance contrasted with his confident demeanor had caught them off-guard. Lady Harrowmont in particular almost couldn’t believe her eyes. However, the company he kept made it clear that this boyish wolfkin was exactly who he had been introduced as. No noble worth their salt would fail to recognize the signature look of the infamous Hero of Death.

“I am honored to be here, Mr. Speaker,” Nao spoke calmly and clearly.

*Thunk*

The dwarven king slammed his fist against the table, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“Now hold on just an ale-chugging minute,” he spoke up. “How come that lot gets an equal seat at this table?”

“Watch it, fatso,” the skull-masked girl next to Nao spoke coldly. “You try anything funny with the fuzz-ball over here, you might come home to find Fugel and Kirk have mysteriously turned into sausages.”

Kaede had perhaps gone a bit overboard with that threat, but she had grown rather attached to and protective of the wolf-boy in recent months. Sure, he had a face only a mother could love and his three wives seemed unreasonably jealous of her, but he had been a good friend to her. More importantly, he was also an important client. Nao had hired her on a few occasions in the past, and this was one of them. He figured that having Mortimer’s private assassin by his side would make people think twice before they tried to intimidate him into submission. After all, no one man was ever truly beyond death’s reach.

“Hey, let’s not get nasty here,” the dwarf backed off a bit. “I’m just saying it’s a tad bit suspicious when you folk have an ‘in’ with the Speaker.”

The idea seemed to work, given how King Strongarm reacted to Kaede’s words. The fact that she unhesitantly named his two pet rams had been especially disturbing. Their existence wasn’t exactly public knowledge, after all.

“I have similar concerns regarding the League’s presence here,” Exarch Kallahan chimed in. “Though I recognize the organization has done a lot of good since its inception, I cannot help but feel uneasy given their members’ affiliations.”

Much like their name would suggest, the United Heroes’ League was an alliance between Heroes. The seeds of it had been planted more than half a year ago when most of them had met on Velos. The chosen of the gods had been actively working together in one way or another since then, pooling their skills, contacts, and resources to achieve great things that helped a lot of people. The real problem was that, individually, each Hero was closely tied with one nation or another. That put into question the political neutrality of the League as a whole, and by extension that of Gux himself. The notion that he, as Speaker, might favor their side over the others undermined the legitimacy of the entire Summit.

“The Speaker recognizes the Kingdom and the Republic’s concerns,” the lizard-man replied calmly. “The Speaker also wishes to reassure all parties that Gux is fully capable of keeping his personal affairs separate from his duties as Speaker.”

“I would like to further add that the League is not here to barter, make judgements, or form allegiances,” Nao spoke up once more. “Our mission is, and has always been, to safeguard all of Terrania’s people from the uniquely powerful monsters and magical catastrophes that are expected to appear during a Shift. Both the Speaker and I felt the League’s presence at the Summit would be a beneficial one, given our collective experience with handling anomalous occurrences. We are here to actively address several such issues, and will otherwise merely observe the proceedings.”

The elf nodded sagely and the dwarf settled back into his seat with a grumble. It was as satisfactory an answer as they were going to get, though neither of them seemed entirely happy with it. Lady Harrowmont, for her part, couldn’t believe they were making a fuss over it. Though it might have been foolish and naive, she liked to think that the Heroes knew what they were doing. Otherwise they’d have their titles revoked. Irma herself was a firm believer in Teresa, which was a source of internal conflict since she couldn’t help but think of the Inquisition as a bunch of traitors to the Empire.

And, as luck would have it, it seemed to be their turn.

“The Speaker recognizes High Inquisitor Sigmund Law, of the Holy Inquisition.”

The man stood to his full height, nodded affirmatively, then immediately sat back down. His advisor - a balding, feeble gentleman in formal priest robes - followed suit. Lady Harrowmont was slightly taken aback by that display. It wasn’t the curt and wordless self-introduction that shocked her. It was fairly obvious by that point that it didn’t matter how a representative replied to the Speaker so long as everyone understood it. The only reason that the noblewoman responded the way she had was because she couldn’t think of what else to say. Kallahan and Strongarm had probably followed suit because they assumed that was what they were supposed to say. It seemed as though all of them were kind of making it up as they went along, which helped ease Irma’s nerves a bit.

What struck the noblewoman as odd was that Sigmund was in plain clothes. She had met the man on several occasions before, but never once had she seen him out of that battle-scarred set of plate armor. She assumed that such equipment had seen far too much violence to be allowed on the island, unlike the dwarven king’s purely ceremonial getup. Because of all of those factors, it was only at that moment that she was made aware of just how well-built Sigmund was. It made sense that he would be, all things considered, but seeing it in person was a bit… overwhelming. Especially the way his muscles threatened to rip apart that tight shirt if he flexed too hard.

“Milady, you’re drooling,” Thomas whispered.

“Ah. Thank you, Mr. Bauer,” she discreetly wiped it away with a napkin. “Wait, why are you noting that down?”

“… Because it’s my job?”

“I need to submit that to the Emperor when we return!” she protested in a hushed tone. “Strike it from the record! And this part too! And- would you stop it?!”

She didn’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed that Mr. Bauer was managing to thoughtlessly transcribe everything, including his own words. Even that ‘fatso’ comment from earlier was in his notes. Noticing Lady Harrowmont’s inappropriate behavior, Mr. Fullgrim coughed quietly yet sharply. She immediately got the hint and settled down. It would appear she would need to deal with her Scribe’s lack of tactful flexibility later.

“The Speaker recognizes Orrin Mildenhall, of the Steel Crusade,” Gux introduced the final participant in the Summit.

“Aye. Good to be here,” the giant said heartily. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t stand. Ceiling here’s a tad low for one of my generous-ness.”

Solus’ Hero was exactly how Irma imagined he would look like. Big, blond, bearded, and grinning ear-to-ear. It was difficult to picture this jovial individual as the person in charge of the ongoing assault against the Boneshaper. Then again, very little was publicly known about the Steel Crusade’s plans regarding their efforts to reclaim the Blighted Lands, let alone their progress. The only information Lady Harrowmont had received on the subject had been that they were using some ancient relic to turn loyal volunteers into monstrous war machines. It was an absolutely abhorrent thought, in Irma’s opinion. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would willingly undergo such a transformation, obvious strategic benefits notwithstanding. Then again, it wasn’t her homeland that had been taken over by legions of the accursed undead, nor were her people the ones driven to the brink of extinction. She had no way of understanding the giants’ plight, so she tried not to judge them too harshly.

“This concludes introductions,” Gux declared. “If there are any further concerns regarding the validity of this summit or the legitimacy of its attendees, the honored guests are invited to voice them now.”

He scanned the room and found that the leader of the desert city Emerald seemed to be trying to get his attention with a raised palm.

“The Speaker will hear Sultan Ali Arsalan, of the Sovereign States Alliance.”

“Yeees… I’ve been wondering, but who exactly is that woman?” he pointed at Irma. “More importantly, where is Emperor Einhart?”

“Mr. Speaker, if I may reply?”

Gux nodded affirmatively at the woman’s interjection.

“Thank you,” she bowed, then turned to the rotund dogkin. “Recent events have created several internal issues that require my Emperor’s personal attention. As such, it was decided that a representative should be sent instead. I was deemed fit for this task. Though my family’s responsibilities are limited to crops and taxes, I shall not disappoint my Emperor’s trust.”

Mr. Fullgrim gave her a discreet thumbs-up under the table for that answer. It was only natural that the Emperor’s absence would raise some difficult questions, so the two of them had worked out and practiced nice little speeches for all of the obvious ones.

“Hmpf. Disappointing,” the sultan frowned behind his moustache. “Carry on, Speaker. Let us get this over with.”

Gux waited a short while for any other objections, but there seemed to be none.

“The session will now proceed to the next point of order. The Speaker invites Nao Shoki, of the United Heroes’ League, to take the floor.”

The raptor floated aside, making room for his youthful colleague to take the center stage with a quick word of thanks.

“I wish to draw the Summit’s attention to a matter that I believe concerns most, if not all of us. We have been tracking the movements of a specific monster. My team and I first became aware of its existence roughly four months ago while investigating the aftermath of F-Day, and we have been researching it since. Using a combination of magical and non-magical methods, we were able to piece together something truly unprecedented. Before I dive into this any further, allow me to introduce you to what will henceforth be referred to as Subject S.”

The Wizard reached for the enchanted tome dangling from his waist and opened it to one of the bookmarked pages. The magic within the book produced a large illusion that filled most of the room. The three-dimensional image was of a most bizarre creature - a jagged-toothed treasure chest that had several eyes and was surrounded by a grotesque amalgamation of tentacled limbs. There was a distinct spike in hostility around the room as several of the leaders recognized that shape.

There was also a sudden surge in scribbling noises as Thomas tried to sketch the creature out in his notes. He really had no idea what he was looking at, which made it all that more difficult for him to replicate the image. It wasn’t helping that the man had also essentially turned off his brain. Focusing on the mundane task of transcribing what was being said helped him cope with the fact that he was so far out of his depth that he would drown if he ever stopped to think about it.

“I should start by saying our information is by no means complete,” Nao continued his presentation, “but I am confident that what we have learned so far is accurate. After interviewing numerous witnesses, salvaging Gilded Hand intelligence, and employing several other methods of magical and nonmagical investigation, we have determined that Subject S is, for lack of a better term, the embodiment of the current Shift.”

“So what you’re saying is this Shift has a face we can stab?” the dwarven king raised a bushy eyebrow.

“In a way, yes,” the Wizard confirmed.

“Fantastic!”

Magnus was already intending to hunt down that beast and mince it to bits for what it had done to his kingdom, his capital, and his people. If doing so meant ending the Shift - or at least hastening its conclusion - then that was even better.

“What has this Subject S done to warrant this Summit’s attention?” Chief Oro asked.

“That’s where things become… unbelievable,” Nao winced as he double-checked his notes. “We have either confirmed or strongly suspect its direct or indirect involvement in nearly every major incident since the Calamity of Monotal. This includes, but is not limited to, the most recent Empire-Republic conflict, the freezing of the border town of Bootlick, and the destruction of Watford. More recently, Subject S was involved with the major orc uprising and subsequent undead incursion on Velos, the annihilation of the Ironheart Coalition, the buyout of the Phantom Auction, the destruction of Bitterhold - the list just goes on, honestly. If something insane and/or catastrophic happened, Subject S was most likely a part of it.”

“Like the army of golems that nearly wiped out the city of Nautilin?” Vivianne interjected.

“Did it also cause the Realm Scar on Velos?” Orrin did the same.

“What about the Massacre at Limpton Bay?” Irma followed suit.

“Possibly, probably, and yes,” Nao answered each of them respectively.

Thomas was genuinely impressed that the wolfkin seemed familiar with each of those catastrophes off the top of his head, but also a bit weirded out. It reminded him of his little sister’s unhealthy obsession with domesticated goblins. Thankfully she grew out of it, but that was besides the point.

“I assume you are prepared to back up these bold claims with hard evidence?” the Republic representative inquired.

“I understand your concerns, Exarch Kallahan,” the wolfkin replied. “However, there is quite a lot of information to go through and much of it is based on speculation. Subject S has been rather meticulous in covering its tracks. I will gladly present our findings in-depth at a later date.”

“Yes, yes, that is all well and good,” the elf leaned forward,” but there’s one thing I want you to clarify for me.”

“If I am able, then I will gladly do so.”

“If this is indeed the same creature responsible for the attack on Bitterhold, then it should be as tall as a giant and several times the width, no?”

A few unwitting hunters had spotted the creature on its way to the prison complex the same day that it was demolished, so the elf was rather certain of his information.

“Its size seems to fluctuate, but those are its general proportions, yes,” the Wizard confirmed.

“And you’re telling us that something that massive and obviously monstrous has caused death and destruction for years without being noticed,” the elf pointed out. “You’ll forgive me if I find that difficult to believe.”

Nao looked down for a moment and forced a smile at the understandable reaction.

“Exarch Kallahan,” he looked back up, “you are aware that monsters are capable of Rank Ups, yes?”

“Of course, I am.”

“Then perhaps you are underestimating just how drastic they can be. What you see here,” Nao gestured towards the illusion, “is merely the creature’s most recent form. Prior to this evolution, it had a far more… presentable shape.”

The wolfkin flipped to another illusory page in his book, prompting the image to change to that of a well-built person draped in a heavy cloak, with two yellow eyes glowing beneath a face-wrap. It was a form quite a few people in the room were familiar with.

“Indeed,” the wolfkin nodded. “The mysterious vigilante-cum-mercenary known only as the Sandman was - and still is - a monster. More specifically, a rare plant-based doppelganger variant that started out as a basic, low-Level mimic in the dungeon complex near Monotal.”

“… Fuck.”

Kallahan couldn’t help but curse as he sank back into his chair. Magnus, Orrin, and Arsalan had similarly guilty reactions. Vivianne and Oro maintained curious expressions while the rest of the Heroes remained firm and silent, suggesting they had already been told all of this. Irma could only shift uncomfortably in her seat while her assistant diligently jotted down the elf’s barely audible profanity. After a few more seconds, the information had fully sunk in, and nearly everyone in the room gave some sort of signal that they had something to ask. Not knowing where to start, Nao haphazardly picked someone at random to address first.

“Yes, Matriarch?” he invited her to speak.

“Forgive my ignorance, but what exactly is a doppelganger? This word I am not familiar with.”

“Ah. Hm… To summarize, doppelgangers are a species of bipedal shapeshifters with innate psychic abilities that thrive on deception and are exceptionally skilled at impersonation. Their base form is something like this.”

The Wizard took a moment to produce another illusory visual aid, this one taking on the appearance of a gangly, large-headed, gray-skinned humanoid with no face.

“I see,” the krymer nodded. “Yes, I know this shape.”

How could she not, considering one of her best spies was a slitherer, the aquatic variant of the species?

“That will be all, Mr. Shoki.”

That question seemingly answered, Nao moved onto the next person.

“Orrin?”

“First of all,” the giant began, “I must shamefully admit to having dealings with this individual. If I had known-”

“Please, there’s no need,” the Wizard was quick to reassure him. “If failing to spot its true nature was a crime, then most of the people here are guilty of it. Myself included.”

“… You’re right. Still, what did little miss Morgana have to say about all this?”

Orrin didn’t know the full story, but he was aware that the Hero of Chaos had worked closely with the Sandman in the past. In fact, she was the one that had helped arrange the meeting between the giant and the mercenary in the first place. Given her involvement in that matter and her absence from this conference, he couldn’t help but worry about her.

“I haven’t… exactly… told her yet,” Nao grimaced.

“Oh… She won’t like that one bit,” Orrin matched his expression.

“The Speaker will remind the League and the Crusade to avoid discussing unrelated personal matters.”

Both Heroes quickly apologized to Gux, after which the wolfkin turned to the next person with a question.

“Lady Harrowmont. What can I clarify for you?”

“If I may be so bold,” Irma’s eyes narrowed, “you are surprisingly well-informed about this creature’s origins.”

“The League has its means,” Nao answered evasively. “Our biggest break came from capturing a former accomplice of Subject S, an elderly doppelganger that referred to itself as ‘Reginald.’ Unfortunately, it expired during our interrogation, so we weren’t able to learn everything it knew.”

“You allowed such a valuable prisoner to die in your care?” the noblewoman raised an eyebrow. “That was most careless of you.”

“Actually, my people are the ones who handled that case,” Sigmund chimed in.

“Ah,” she slowly, spitefully turned towards him. “I guess that explains it.”

“I assure you, the Inquisition did not, does not, and will not resort to the barbaric means of interrogation that certain rumors state we employ.”

“And yet the important witness is dead, is it not?” Irma pressed.

“Of natural causes,” Nao momentarily raised his voice. “Apologies, I should have been more specific.”

“Wait, you mean the bugger just up and died of old age while in custody?” Magnus chimed in.

“Quite so,” the Wizard confirmed. “When we found it, it was already on its deathbed. It would have perished with or without the Inquisition’s help. Had we been just a few days earlier, we would know a lot more.”

“That’s some janky timing, innit?” the dwarf said disparagingly.

“I swear upon Teresa’s name that Nao speaks true,” Sigmund rose from his seat. “We did everything in our power to extract as much information as we could, but no amount of medicine or magic could prolong its life. I even permitted a Necromancer to attempt an unholy revival so that we may continue questioning its corpse. For better or for worse, the endeavor failed.”

If the High Inquisitor himself was willing to admit such a transgression, then the rest of the table had no choice but to accept his words as fact. Questioning that man’s honesty was only slightly more foolish than trying to teach an orc the fine art of flower arrangement.

“Mr. Shoki,” the elf was up next, “how are you certain that the Sandman and Subject S are one and the same?”

“Two major factors point to it,” Nao flipped to another page of his notebook. “The first is that, according to reports, both of them are Warlocks that employ the exact same demonic familiars. Not the same types or species, mind you. I’m talking about a set of specific individuals.”

The illusion of the monstrous chest reappeared accompanied by three female demons - a flame-haired temptress, a multi-armed powerhouse, and an ice-covered spider-girl.

“Furthermore, my colleague,” he politely gestured towards Kaede, “knows the true name of every living being she encounters. She has had contact with the Sandman in the past-”

“Not just contact,” the nosferata spoke up. “I worked with the guy on several occasions, studying his ways as a means of furthering my own training. Let me tell you people right now - you are not at all prepared for what it is capable of. None of its enemies were, and that was when it was still pretending to be some shady guy in a mask. Now that the gloves are off, literally anything is possible.”

“Thank you, Kaede, but if I could get back to my original point,” Nao glared at her for interrupting him, “my colleague also managed to catch a glimpse of Subject S as it demolished part of the city of Valona. Thanks to that, she was able to confirm that both it and the Sandman shared the same, rather unique name.”

The nosferata had also ‘conveniently’ forgotten that Keira once bore that label as well.

“When we consider this alongside their shared familiars,” he continued, “we have no choice but to conclude that they are indeed one and the same individual, albeit at different stages of its life.”

“Spit it out, then!” the dwarf demanded. “What’s the bugger called?”

“Boxxy T. Morningwood,” an unfamiliar voice cut through the meeting. “The ‘T’ stands for ‘Trap,’ by the way.”

It hadn’t been Nao that had uttered those words, nor had it been any of the other Heroes.

“Took you long enough to get to the good part.”

The entire room stared in shock as Irma Harrowmont spoke in a deep guttural tone that was not her own.

“Seriously, though, Reggie?” her eyes rolled disapprovingly. “I knew I should have eaten him when I had the chance.”

Mr. Bauer and Mr. Fullgrim nearly tripped over their own feet as they frantically backed away from the woman. The other factions’ assistants did the same while their leaders rose to their feet on high alert.

“Kaede?!” Nao called out.

“She’s the real one,” the nosferata instantly replied.

“It must be controlling her somehow,” Sigmund gritted his teeth.

“Brilliant deduction, Siggy,” Boxxy scoffed. “Can I call you Siggy? Nah, I’m gonna call you Dessert. Know why? Because I’ll save you for-”

“Release her, creature!”

The first to actually make a move was none other than Chief Oro. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, she leaped across the table and reached out to grab Irma while invoking a Spell. As a high Level Shaman, the female raptor was uniquely qualified to cure so-called ‘maladies of the spirit,’ which included most forms of mind control. However, the instant she got close to Irma she suddenly slammed into the ground and found herself unable to either stand or speak, let alone chant.

“Wow. Already forgot about the pacification field, huh?” the monster mocked her efforts. “No wonder Velos is such a shithole when the one in charge is such an idiot.”

Indeed, the very magic that ensured violence did not occur between diplomats from rival nations also safeguarded Boxxy’s puppet from harm. Much like with Taboo, it was intent that mattered most. Even though the raptor’s goal had been to save Irma, it was still deemed a hostile act since it involved forcing one’s will onto another. The shapeshifter was rather amused to watch these high-and-mighty individuals realize just how powerless they were to help one of their own. Except for Gux. The all-important Speaker knew full well how futile it was to intervene on Irma’s behalf. Rather than anger, fear, or shock, the only emotion Boxxy picked up from him was a vague sense of disappointment, likely aimed at himself for failing to sense the foreign presence in the room.

“Why are you here?”

Nao was the one who ultimately managed to cut through the sudden tension and question the intruder.

“I was curious what you lot were up to, here in your secret clubhouse. Nice place, by the way,” it forced Irma to look around. “You’d never think it was powered by the souls of hundreds of thousands of dead nosferatu.”

Boxxy had no idea whether that statement was actually true. Its attempts to disfigure Arisha with Corrupting Influence hadn’t worked out. If they had, she would have repaid the shapeshifter by revealing the ancient secret of just how the Adams Theocracy sank beneath the waves. Unfortunately, her blood curse had proven stronger than the Skill. The deal fell apart, and Boxxy didn’t want to know badly enough to rip the information out of Arisha by force. Nevertheless, not knowing the facts didn’t stop the monster from taking a page out of Bob’s book and casually sprinkling nuggets of plausible misinformation in its speech.

“You know, it’s funny, in a way,” it continued. “I always thought the Emperor was woefully unfit to be in charge of anything bigger than a public outhouse. And yet, you people make him look like a mastermind by comparison. I mean, right now, he’s in some secret royal safehouse surrounded by his most trusted and powerful guards. You morons, on the other hand, are out here. ”

Lady Harrowmont’s expression twisted into a smile so wide that the skin on her face began to literally rip itself apart.

“By yourselves, in the middle of the sea, on an island surrounded by an impenetrable storm.”

A deafening explosion rocked the delegates’ ear drums, and a quick glance out the window revealed the Empire’s warship had gone up in flames.

“Do take care on your way home.”

With those parting words, the possessed woman’s hands reached up, grabbed her own head, and gave it a disturbingly sharp twist. Her body fell to the ground, limp and unbreathing. Sigmund lunged forward and, after confirming he could actually touch her, applied one of the most potent healing effects around - a Paladin’s Lay on Hands Skill. The woman’s neck snapped forward with a barely audible pop while her torn skin stitched itself back together. Most importantly, she started coughing and wheezing while rolling around on the floor.

“Milady! You’re alive!”

The Inquisitor allowed himself a sigh of relief while Mr. Bauer rushed to his employer’s side. Thankfully Harrowmont’s arms had been too weak to fully snap her neck. Either that or she had put up some last-second resistance. Whichever the case, she had only ended up with a twisted windpipe instead of a broken neck. Or, something along those lines. Sigmund wasn’t an expert on anatomy, but he knew that not even Lay on Hands would revive someone once their HP had hit zero.

The man then tensed up again as he realized the young lady was still coughing like she was trying to hack up a lung. The Skill should have restored her to full health, something it could only do once a day and in exchange for all of the Paladin’s MP. While he wondered what kind of strange complication might have occurred, Thomas assumed she was simply choking on something and patted her back vigorously. Oddly enough, his mundane intuition turned out to have been correct, as Irma suddenly spat out something quite disturbing. It was a small worm-like creature barely bigger than a finger, its front end covered in dozens of tiny, hair-thin tentacles. The thing was also very much still alive, given the way it thrashed around on the floor.

“Eek!”

The Scribe squealed and freaked out at the sight of the disgusting creature and unthinkingly stomped it flat with his heel. He had acted on such pure impulse that the island’s pacification field didn’t have time to kick in. Or at least that was what the others assumed. In truth, much like Sigmund when he healed Irma, Thomas had acted without a single shred of anger or hatred in his heart. However, unlike the Inquisitor, that was because he hadn’t had time to think about what he was doing.

“Good work, son.”

The Hero of the Hammer patted the Scribe on the back so hard that he nearly dislocated the much weaker man’s shoulder. He then turned to the woman that was just barely able to catch her breath.

“Are you alright, Milady?” he asked sternly.

“Hack! Hrn. Yes, th-thank you, Inquisitor,” she panted heavily. “And Mr. Bauer, of course.”

She rose to her feet, though it was clear she was distraught.

“I had no idea that thing was inside me,” she grimaced at the thing on the floor. “Urk, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You’ll be fine, lass,” Magni reassured her. “And don’t blame yerself. That vile bugger managed to outwit us all.”

“Indeed. I for one, do not appreciate being made a fool of,” Kallahan seethed. “Let us deal with this interloper posthaste.”

“Oh-hoh!” the Sultan’s eyes shone dangerously. “It seems this Summit just might get exciting!”

“What a foolish creature, to think the sea and storms will be its allies,” Vivianne’s water bubble tightened around her body.

“I have shamed my ancestors,” Chief Oro traced her tattoos. “My honor must be restored.”

“God damnit, Morty,” Kaede grumbled quietly. “I told you this would happen eventually.”

“Let’s not get hasty,” Nao urged the others. “We need a plan.”

“I have one,” Sigmund cracked his knuckles. “Find the bastard, kill it, and go home.”

“Haha! I like this plan!” Orrin declared loudly.

“The Speaker motions to declare Boxxy T. Morningwood a world-level threat effective immediately,” Gux said nonchalantly. “All in favor?”

“Aye!” the rest replied in unison.

Unbeknownst to them, the big shots were getting fired up for no good reason. Despite appearances, Boxxy wasn’t even close to them. It was submerged beneath the sea, well outside the deadly wall of water that only the Hero of Rain could part. It wasn’t actually planning to assassinate those world leaders. If it had been, it would have struck at them while they were still sailing. Discreetly infecting the Empire’s ambassador with Puppet Parasite and rigging her ship with a remote-controlled bomb served an entirely different purpose.

It wanted them alive and sufficiently motivated to take action against it. After all, it needed the world to throw their absolute best people at it if it hoped to reach those ridiculous Attribute scores that Bob required.