Utgard, dungeons

Mike woke.

His cheek was cold, and he realized he was lying on a stone floor, his face turned to the cool, black-rock tiles. He sat up and blinked away the weight in his eyes.

The room was dark and dim, a jail cell. A single lantern flickered in the corner, illuminating thick slate walls. There was a door to the cell made of corrugated iron bars, but he could barely see through them. He had the instinctive sense that they were far, far underground.

"Ah… Mike Zacharias. Awake at last," came a familiar voice.

Mike turned. Slumped in the opposite corner, in a pile of bloody rags, was a man—or at least, the broken shell of one.

He didn't recognize the face, but he knew the voice. It was the pastor from the church. The man had been beaten—both his eyes were blackened, and some of his teeth were missing. The fingernails on both hands had been peeled away. Dark splotchy bruises covered the man's arms and legs.

"You're the priest from the confessional," Mike said. "Our informant. They got you too, then."

"Oh, yes," the priest said. "You have your short, blonde friend to thank for that."

My short, blonde friend… Mike went cold. Annie?

It can't be…

"Why are you here, in the same cell as me?" he asked, suspicious. "Why wouldn't they separate us?"

The priest gave a short, barking laugh, that ended in a cough. "It doesn't matter anymore," he said. "Neither of us is leaving this place alive."

Annie… Mike's head was still spinning with the revelation. A lot of things were becoming clear. That was how the Jaw had known so much. He'd had someone on the inside, the whole time. And Rico. Annie knows everything about Rico. Mike felt small, afraid, and helpless. Rico is in so much danger. And it's all my fault.

He gritted his teeth.

"You had information for me about Zeke Yeager, before we got interrupted," Mike said. "For what it's worth, our deal still stands. Tell me what you know, and you'll be granted clemency."

The priest rolled on his side. One bloodshot eye stared at Mike—the other looked swollen shut. "You're a determined one, aren't you?" he said. Then, "You can call me Nick. My real name is Sannes, but Pastor Nick is the alias I went by with the Wallists, and it's the one I grew used to." He gave a pained cough.

Mike sat up and rubbed his shoulder. While he'd been unconscious, someone had treated and bandaged his gunshot wounds. Now that he was awake, the pain was beginning to return, a steady, fierce ache that came in waves. "And how'd you get involved with Zeke?" he asked, half to continue the inquiry, half to distract himself from the pain.

Nick didn't answer, just stared at Mike with that single bloodshot eye. Eventually Mike sighed and leaned back against the stone wall. He didn't have the heart to try to press the man for information, not in the state he was in.

His mind had begun to wander when Nick said, "Have you heard of the Rumbling?"

"Sort of," Mike answered. "The end of the world that the Wallists believe will come to pass, right?"

"In a sense," Nick said. "The end of one world, and the beginning of another."

Mike wasn't sure where the priest was going with this, but some conversation was better than none. Do you believe in it, then?" he asked. "The Rumbling?"

Nick sighed. "I'm not sure, anymore. I was tasked with going undercover into the Wallists to gain information, to learn if they posed any threat to Eldia. As far as I know… they do not. They're an unorganized, foolish, powerless bunch. But… there's something unusual that happens to you, when you spend so much time preaching about the end of the world. You begin dreaming of it, craving it. I saw many of those believers of the Rumbling fall prey to this mindset. How they yearned for the end times, justice delivered to the unrepentant. And maybe in the end… maybe that mindset infected me as well. Why else would I pull that trigger?"

Mike frowned. The priest's thoughts seemed scattered, like glass shards from a mirror dropped face-first on cobblestone.

"You said you were a member of the Interior MP's, right?" Mike asked. "Like Zeke? So, you guys are tasked to go deep undercover into cults?"

"Yes," Nick said. "We were the secret agents of Eldia, the spies who integrate ourselves into dangerous communities, all to defend the crown. Zeke was one, too. While I worked with the Wallists, Zeke went undercover into the cult of the Laputian restorationists. And when he came back, he was… different. He had new ambition, new drive. New… information. He'd learned something—what it was, I don't know. The Eldian government sent us in an airship to the mountains of Gondowa, based on Zeke's intel. We were supposed to capture two girls on a farm… I didn't know what they looked like, only that they were sisters, and that one of them might have a crystal necklace."

He fell silent.

"And then?" Mike prompted, after a moment.

"And then the devil got inside of me," Nick said.

The pain in Mike's shoulder returned, and he massaged it for a few long seconds. "What do you mean by that?" he asked eventually.

"I can't explain it," Nick said. "I was supposed to aim for the sister's leg. I've never missed a shot, Mike Zacharias. With my rifle I hit only what I intend to hit. But in that instant, I heard a voice in my ear… I heard the sermons I'd preached so many times… in my heart I knew, I knew, that if I raised my rifle just a bit higher, there was a chance that I could…" the priest paused, and then, with what sounded almost like confusion, he said, "…there was a chance I could end the world. And, for some reason, I wanted it."

Mike said nothing in response. He sat and massaged his shoulder and tried to parse what Nick had told him. The lantern flickered silently in the corner.


Utgard, outskirts

It was mid-afternoon by the time Rico saw the great fortress of Utgard looming on the horizon. The white limestone cliffs were stunning, like chiseled lines of chalk. The water from the sea surged and crashed against its sides. She'd never been this far up the coast before.

On the beach below the cliffs, practically under the shadow of the fortress, was the small fishing village of Ut-by-the-sea. Rico knew enough to guess it'd have a mixed population of both Eldians and Marleyans. Once years before, it'd been a popular tourist destination for both countries. Now, as she drove through the narrow streets of the town, she could sense how much had changed. Darkened faces turned toward the ground, everywhere she looked. Marble fountains that had once gushed water, now empty and dry. Starved, brittle shrubs, yellow leaves falling off in patches. The weight of the war hung heavy here. The massive fortress on the horizon offered a perpetual reminder.

It was easy enough to find a place to park. She got out of the car and closed the door, looking around. A tavern nearby was playing music, soft, but audible. There was a hint of life in the village, at least.

The leaders of the different military factions were gathering up at the fortress, she knew that. As a mere member of the Garrison, she wouldn't be allowed in, and indeed, if she showed up, she'd be interrogated for leaving her post. There was another option: she had Annie Leonhardt's Military Police ID, replaced with her picture. That might be enough to get through. But it was risky. What if the guards who checked the ID's knew Annie? She needed to get a lay of the land first.

She opened the door to the tavern and walked in, to the swell of music.

The place looked about half full. The sides of the tavern had carved wooden booths, and there were tables scattered around at even intervals. In the center of the room, a square bar, with a tap and wine bottles in stacks. A blond male bartender with fair features was pouring drinks, while a young serving girl with tall boots and long brown hair whisked around from table to table, taking orders.

Rico slid onto a bar stool.

"What can I get you?" The bartender had walked over, one of his hands wiping a cloth against the counter. He had soft blue eyes, and his face seemed kind. In fact, as she studied him more, she realized the bartender resembled Annie, if Annie had been a man. Annie had seemed kind, too, Rico reminded herself. Looks can be deceiving. Trust no one.

"Gin and tonic, please," she said.

The woman next to her was engrossed in conversation. Rico drummed her fingers on the countertop, half listening.

"I'm telling ya, Jean, there's something going on in there. You need to help me find 'em," the woman said. Her tone was urgent; she had a distinct country drawl.

She was talking to a man with spiky grey hair, who whispered back, "Look, I want to help you, Sasha, but the whole place is high security. One doesn't simply walk into Utgard."

Rico turned her head, as subtly as she could. Pinned to the man's coat, she spotted a glinting silver badge. She recognized it immediately as the insignia of the Military Police.

Someone cleared their throat next to her. Rico turned back to see the bartender, holding her gin and tonic. He was staring at her, and she felt embarrassed. He must've seen me eavesdropping. Oops. Not a good start, Rico. She took the drink from him, avoiding eye contact. Thankfully, he didn't comment, and simply walked away.

The conversation next to her continued. "If I wanted to get in, how could I?" the woman asked. "I'm sure Springer's in there, I saw the army take him with my own eyes. I ain't making this up, Jean. There's somethin' reeking to high heavens with you military folks, and I'm gonna find out what it is."

"Keep your voice down, Sash!" the man, Jean, said. He looked around warily, and Rico focused her gaze out on the booths at the far end of the tavern.

"Look, I might have an idea," Jean said, his voice a barely audible whisper. "We'll need to get you a fake Military Police ID, and then…" after that, his voice was too soft to hear.

Rico sipped her drink, considering the available options. It seemed incredibly fortuitous that she'd just so happened to walk into the first tavern she saw and sit next to two people who were plotting a way into Utgard. That in itself was enough to proceed with caution. But, on the other hand, what was the alternative explanation? That this was some kind of trap set by the Military Police, just to catch people like her who might happen to stop by? That seemed even more improbable.

Perhaps the explanation was as simple as this: given the military really was up to something, maybe they'd gotten on the wrong side of multiple people, herself included. Some of those people were bound to run into each other, eventually.

The woman and man next to her were getting up from their seats, their bill paid. Rico watched them, and realized if she was going to act, it had to be now. Annie's face floated to the forefront of her mind, those ice-blue eyes shining in the dark, that silver knife glinting as she spun, the sound of the gun as she'd pulled the trigger, echoes off the alley walls.

Rico closed her eyes. It's not people I trust, she thought, it's logic. And logic says these two are probably genuine. It's too weird to be a trap, too weird and too implausible.

"Wait," she said, laying a hand on the woman's arm. Her heart hammered in her chest, despite all that she'd reasoned. Her voice shook when she spoke again. "I think I might be able to help you."