As he listened and read through the documents Laird provided, Miles thought of his old life and how… ignorant he had been back then. The last time he had been on the surface, nearly a century ago, he had been a courier. A registered Torchbearer capable of ferrying heavy loads, armed with a Skill to enlarge any backpacks or sling bags he used so they would fit a little more than what their visible dimensions would imply. That had gotten him a few jobs, of course. It was a sought-after role in delving parties, who were often too busy fending for their lives to worry about loot they acquired.

  It meant that Miles had no shortage of work if he so desired, and while that was nice and all, it did not do much about the sting of having to put aside his dreams of adventure. He hadn’t put countless hours sparring and training to end up as the pack-mule for a delving team. Because that was what his kind of Torchbearer were colloquially called. Mules. And just like those poor beasts of burden, Miles’ kind of Torchbearers weren’t always looked after. Especially if their cargo wasn’t that valuable. He hadn’t known back then of the politics ruling this world. He knew informants were a thing, but he couldn’t have guessed extent of it. He’d learned a lot more throughout his time in the Dungeon, but he hadn’t learned enough.

  Leaning back, Miles turned his attention away from the memories and focused on what he just learned while the duo in front of him waited for his reaction. He’d overlooked a few things in his absence through the years. He’d always known security at Rivergate would be nothing to scoff at but to be fair, as a simple courier he hadn’t seen much of it. He hadn’t been aware of it. He’d heard whispers and whatnot but now, he was realizing how badly he had underestimated them. How thorough they had been. And that was even before third parties got involved.

  While his exit had been flashy and certainly had attracted attention, it turns out that he was destined to be bugged and bothered no matter what. Even if he had trudged all the way up floor by floor, he would have been made as soon as he tried to get through the gate and once he’d done that, they would have been waiting for him.

  The Registry had been ready for him. Especially considering what he’d just heard.

  “You’re sure?” Miles asked, softly tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. “Those were their words? This mysterious agent from these… Keepers?”

  He’d heard the name, of course. This was the same organization that had a Custodian talk to his summons on the surface. He was wondering if this was the same person or another, but Laird said that whenever this one appeared, they’d been masked.

  Nodding, the spearman continued. “They didn’t tell us this, they gave it to the Registry. But we have ears over there. The Registry was told a son is about return to Rivergate. A Torchbearer long gone. And that they should do everything in their power to gain his trust. And guess who broke out of the gate, not even a couple of days later?”

  That was troublesome. Potentially. A Custodian with a prophetic ability. An Oracle. And this one opted to leave a message to the Registry, while the other—if indeed they were different people—was working with the Shifting Exchange. Meeting Hazel’s eyes for a second, Miles inhaled slowly, holding his breath for a moment before he sighed. He had been on their radar before he’d even finished up his quest. And even if it hadn’t been for that little tip dropped in the Registry’s mailbox, he’d made another mistake by underestimating Rivergate’s security.

  Rivergate—even though it seemed modest as far as settlements went, especially when compared to the big cities within the Dungeon—was still a gate-city, and so it was watched. Big factions wanted to know who was in control, and they kept each other in check. So when an unknown tier-10 happened to waltz through the gate, reports were made. Questions were asked. Those who he interacted with were looked into and unsurprisingly, guilds—and the Registry, especially—kept some thorough documentation, even if most of it was not accessible and was classified.

  Reaching forward, Miles picked up the smaller of the two stacks of papers and paged through it once more. It was his own dossier, the one the Registry had on him, which the Exchange managed to borrow a copy of. It had his full name, his appearance, suspected age and it marked him as “Alive”. It knew he was adopted. It knew about his adoptive family. It had his exam results and all the jobs he’d taken and how well he’d done and any feedback that might have been given, most of which were listed in the guildmaster-restricted section. And it had much more in the sealed notes, which should have been only accessible by the Registry’s higher ups but as everyone knew, there were leaks everywhere, if you could press the right people hard enough.

  - Enrolled in a harvesting delve lead by Bryan Redmarsh (V), with a focus on collecting rare ores from the 3rd. Bryan Redmarsh (V) reported a mass-casualty event resulting in the death of 4 out of the 7 Torchbearers hired. Status changed from Alive to Deceased.

  - Reported to the 3rd waystation sporting grievous injuries and claimed a dereliction of duty toward Bryan Redmarsh and his fellow Vanguards and Wardens. Status changed from Deceased to Alive.

  - Subject carried multiple unregistered assignments between the 1st and 4th floor, refusing assignments that would take him to the surface. Reason unknown.

  - Recruited for an initiation delve lead by Hamlet Valdi (W) on the 1st floor’s waystation. Disappeared right after a monster ambush in the ruins of the 2nd. No sightings since. When questioned about the subject’s whereabouts, a couple of the delve team members were noted to be suspicious, but they denied involvement in the subject’s disappearance. No truth-sensing procedure was employed. Status changed from Alive to MIA.

  Miles remembered that fiasco. He was put down as MIA, but there was a reason he’d slipped away and disappeared. And the next note made it clear that the Registry suspected the reason, but didn’t outright say it.

  The following notes were deemed related and relevant enough to be included, but no sight of the subject has been reported yet.

  - Hamlet Valdi (W)’s team disbanded after reaching the 5th. The Seeker, when asked on the disbanding reason claimed that he didn’t want his career to be shadowed by messy politics. Details unknown.

  - Subject’s adoptive family posted a rescue mission, but it was taken down within the week under the pressure of House Blackfoot (vassal of House Redmarsh).

  - 5 months after the Redmarsh mission previously mentioned, Bryan Redmarsh was found dead in his private suite in the 5th waystation. Pinned to him was a list of alleged crimes that house Redmarsh fervently denied. One of the accusation was that Bryan Redmarsh had actively and intently trapped the deceased Torchbearers in a tunnel so that he and his team could escape the elite monster they had roused and failed to put down. The rest were threatened with death and were forced to sign magic-enforced silence contracts.

  - House Redmarsh applied undue pressure to prevent this knowledge from spreading. Reports of threats, assault, and financial pressure were filed against House Redmarsh. Fines were paid. The reports were retracted.

  - 4 and half years after the last note: Sighting of subject confirmed in Rivergate in company of adopted sister Thalia Gryff, Brie Ironvault, Lott Langston. Status updated from MIA to Alive. Tier estimate updated from 3 to at least tier-15, to be verified. Veil mastery noted by an Expert and Master Shadows, later examined by an expert Seeker does not conform to estimated tier. Tier estimate updated from tier-15 to tier-30.

  Miles didn’t miss the fact that he had been scanned recently and he hadn’t even noticed it. That was a little alarming, and he guessed that those who’d observed him had done from a good distance. Or they had some pretty efficient Skills that helped. It was hard to tell, considering he hadn’t even realized their presence.

  No Masters in Rivergate… I guess no one’s really following that rule, he thought as he shook his head for a moment before his eyes flitted back to the Redmarsh chronicle. Miles had never gotten to see his own file, and he was a little disturbed by how thorough it was. Still, seeing that the Registry knew about his early conflict with the Redmarsh Great Family and their attempt at snuffing out their heir’s scandal was disappointing. He’d hoped for some action on their end, but it seemed that they were just content to observe. Then again, who knew. Maybe some punishment has been dished out and it was listed elsewhere. His expectations weren’t that high, if he were honest, and it was a lifetime ago. Miles had had his fill from shoving sticks into their cart-wheels though he was always willing to give them a bloody nose if they stirred things up.

  Turning his attention back to the dossier, Miles hummed. The Registry had more than one sources for their intelligence. Between their own agents, freelancing Shadows, or anyone with a valuable piece of intel willing to part with it, they knew a lot more than they ever needed, and the accuracy of their intel was definitely eye opening. And their accuracy was even more apparent in the next file.

  The Ashen Wanderer’s dossier. Which was nearly an inch higher than his own.

  Reading this one made it clear that his explosive exit had only accelerated the confrontation with the factions that were paying attention. It was going to happen sooner rather than later. Even if he had taken it slow. Even if he had changed his appearance. He really couldn’t see how he could have dodge the attention, especially with the Registry knowing someone important was coming up to the city.

  The dossier started with the different names he’d been called and then it covered most individuals he had interacted with. Quinn was there and many more and now, the list ended with the duo he’d saved and brought out after defeating Ashirruk. It listed the ability he had displayed, and it theorized about his potential starting role. It had a couple of individuals listed as the possible individuals beneath the mask and surprisingly, he was listed last. A recent addition. But that was most likely due to the next section, which covered everything he’d been involved in—at least the stuff he hadn’t erased through a loop reset. And that list was not short. It listed events that had been confirmed, and some where he was suspected to be involved but they hadn’t managed any solid proof, and it was concluded with the events of the last week or so, ever since his exit, and there were a lot of details there.

  The exit and the guard’s observations were listed. The impression the Seeker that had confronted him was listed. The irregularity of the patrol was underlined—specifically Lott’s momentary absence—which drew attention to Brie and Thalia, who then were looked into in depth, and that brought up his name. Linking that to his own file, the connection between his return as Miles and the re-resurgence of the Wanderer clicked together. There was no solid proof, but none was really needed. Any of these big factions could apply pressure and push and prod and eventually, they would get a solid proof out of him. There was even a warning note about those he had interacted with—just because of that little patrol irregularity with Lott—that they might be targeted as potential leverage and that they should be placed in protective custody, which he guessed that had been what Talon had done.

  The hidden identity lasted until I interacted with my old life, Miles noted, then he chuckled, putting the stack of papers down. He didn’t mind that too much, frankly. He didn’t need to keep his identity always hidden. Still, as he read all this, he wondered how much Talon had known before the two had even met.

  The gig is up, Miles thought, lips pressed in a line as he considered the consequences of all of this. He really didn’t have to worry about holding back anymore. He didn’t have to worry about keeping his secret identity and past hidden. He could drop all pretenses. In a sea of what-ifs and should-haves, that last bit felt liberating. Sure he might have wasted a couple of days worrying about secrecy, but it was all moot now and then again, no real harm had been done.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Leaning back, Miles yawned and stretched his arms above his head, then rolled his shoulder to shake some of the tension out before he turned his attention back toward the Exchange agents.

  “That is the gist of it,” said Laird slowly as he watched him, sitting a little straighter now that the conversation was nearing its end. “What now? Are you willing to go with us and meet the higher-ups?”

  To that, Miles raised a finger. “Last thing. Who’s the fourth individual still hidden in the walls?”

  Laird stilled, and Anya just blinked before she glanced toward her companion.

  “… our Seeker,” the spearman managed after a moment. “He set up the formations to prep the terrain.”

  Miles hummed, and considered a detour to confirm their claim and to get a closer look at whatever the Seeker was using. Those were some nasty magics the hidden mage was playing with, and Miles wouldn’t mind taking a closer look. But he believed he was reaching the limit of what he could extract out of this conversation. Anya was as aloof as always, but Laird was reaching his limit and it was clear, the Vanguard was expecting the situation to either explode into a fight, or that they were about to separate and go their way, with potential of trouble in the future. And frankly, Miles wanted a change of scenery. He had learned most of what he was looking for.

  No, I’ll do it in another loop, he decided, thinking of the hidden individual, and turning to Hazel, he looked at her for a second, mind racing, then gave her a small nod as he produced a mostly-rusted key.

  It was time to try something new.

  Flicking the key to her with a clink, he watched as she caught it between her long, claw-like nails before she gave him an arched brow. “See if you can hold on to that, and bring the girls and Lott to Thalia’s apartment. Try to open a door from there. If it doesn’t work, use the alley. I’ll be waiting there,” he said, and her eyes immediately sharpened. In front of him, the duo frowned, then tensed. The air was growing colder, and it got worse when he reached into a fold of space, though Miles didn’t pay them any mind. Drawing his arm back, he eyed the tiny vial of translucent liquid, and noted the agents’ gaze swivel to the soft glowing light that surrounded the clear, translucent potion. They didn’t relax, as elixirs and potions could still be excessively dangerous in the hand of an expert. But Miles had no intent of throwing at them. This was no trapped gas created to harm them or anything. It was no weapon. At least, not one that was supposed to be used on others.

  Breaking the tip of the sealed vial, he ignored whatever Laird was saying. They were standing up now, the spearman reaching back toward his weapon, while Anya’s eyes glittered like crushed gems, her hand resting calmly on her sword.

  Maybe they really did expect him to kill them, now that he told them a few of his secrets. Miles considered the duo for a moment, ignoring the repeating questions of the spearman. At the end of the day, they were mercenaries. They didn’t strike him as particularly vile and well, their job so far had mostly been above board. He didn’t appreciate how their backers thought to use Thalia and the others as potential lures, but in a cold, calculated way, it made sense to him. When a faction wanted a job done, they didn’t shirk away from using the tools at their disposal, especially if any ruffled feathers could be smoothed out later. After all, no permanent harm had been done. Not yet, at least. The Exchange had pushed things, but while they walked right up to the line, they didn’t overstep it. So he’d let these ones be. In fact, maybe he’d rile them in a loop or two to really see what these two were capable of and who knows, maybe he’d find something that’d make it worthwhile to keep in touch though for now, before either of them could react, he brought the vial to his lips and downed it in one gulp, dismissing Hazel’s form as he did.

  Miles had barely the time to see the confusion turn to alarm and surprise before the world grew blurry. Like an icy flower blooming, the cold spread smoothly out of his throat and down his limbs, numbing him out for barely a moment before he lost all feeling while his vision grew foggy then dark. The darkness closed in on him, silent and inevitable, and before he realized, his eyes were shut.

  ***

  Miles’ eyes fluttered open, and he was back in the start of the loop. A dog-sized ant waved its glowing antennas at him from across the small cave’s exit, its mandible still holding the bits of luminescent mushrooms it was grafting, then it scuttled away. It should be back in a minute or so to investigate the strange apparition it had seen, but by then, Miles would be gone.

  With a wave of his hand, the spare wardrobe appeared, its legs sinking half an inch in the soil as Miles slipped the key into the door, then he stepped through. There was a risk of him summoning a key could delete the one he’d given Hazel, but there was also a possibility that the key was already gone. He had to be in the Custodial room to both dismiss the entrance he’d just create and to keep the alley open—in case she had no key. So as soon as he was through, he abandoned yet another wardrobe, removing the key and stranding the piece of furniture. He winced at the waste and made a note to order a few more basic ones, then made sure only the alley’s ghostly door still existed. With that done, he summoned it to himself and slid a key in. The door’s shimmery outline faded to reveal real wood, and cracking that one open, the smells and sounds of Rivergate came through.

  “And now, we wait,” he said as he swung the door so only an inch or so was open, then taking a step back, Miles summoned a chair and sat down, taking a moment to close his eyes as the tug of the loop relaxed. He had no intent on canceling [Respawn Protocol]. He still had work to do within it. But he was going to take a small break. He was going to make sure everyone was safe, take a breather, then he’d deal with the rest.

  The Keepers. The Shifting Exchange. The Registry and its offer, he listed, looking up at the bright sky for a moment before he stared down into the slightly darker alley through the crack where, unexpectedly, he met a stray calico cat’s eyes as it sniffed at the door. With everything he had just learned, his wariness of the Registry had grown, but they could still be used as a buffer. It will all hinge on what exactly they wanted and how they’d word it. But later.

  Maybe it’s also time I start taking informant services a little more seriously. Big factions have a way of limiting what is documented about them, so maybe I should look into that, he mused as he watched the cat step on through. Its ears had been flicking back and forth but as soon as its head passed the threshold, it went still, its eyes turning to pinpricks for a moment before they widened, and the rest of the cat slipped through, tail twisting in excitement.

  Even instinctively, all creature knew the importance of mana, and the difference between the alley and the room was obvious. “You’re a luck kitty, aren’t you? Maybe you’ll make friends with the one Hazel brought in.”

  The cat spared him a look, dismissed him, then hopped away, running on the grass toward the nearby copse of trees.

  At least they’ll be useful if some mice make it in here, Miles thought. Drifting back to the subject of informants, he wondered who he could ask to address all that. Miles’ experience with the Dungeon’s underbellies was a little limited. He’d been mostly focused on fighting and survival. Politicking and logistics were a little out of his wheelhouse.

  I’ll look into this, he thought, then turning back to the entrance, he froze for a beat before his brows furrowed. He had thought this was an abandoned alley. So what was up with the traffic?

  “Run along, kid” Miles said, putting on a serious—but not too serious—face.

  The kid flinched, but even through the fear, young boys his age didn’t just ignore or run away from cool magic, so long as it wasn’t actively trying to kill them. Miles had been that kid a lifetime ago. So it was no surprise when the tension drained away from the flinching street urchin, and when his mouth dropped open again as the youth watched a whole other sky peeking at him through a dingy alley door.

  “… what is this? Are you a Seeker, sir?”

  There was a reverence there, but while Miles knew he should chase the kid away, he couldn’t help but answer. But he kept it brief. “Yes. But this is secret. You are not to speak of this to anyone.”

  The kid’s eyes widened, but he slowly nodded, inching a little closer, head tilting back and forth as he tried to see better through the crack. Miles noted the kid’s hand twitching a couple of times, but they didn’t dare touch the wood. The kid clearly knew enough of the world to keep his mouth shut. And he knew enough to weaponize that, considering the glint that passed his gaze as their eyes met.

  “How important a secret is it, sir Seeker?”

  Miles narrowed his eyes at the blatant extortion. The kid was staring up at him now through the door crack, body still. His wide eyes were fixed on Miles, a mix of fear and excitement. The little bastard knew he was pushing his luck, and Miles wasn’t going to begrudge him that. He didn’t have to be happy about it, though. Clicking his tongue, he pulled a gold coin and flicked it through the crack and as he did, he gently pushed his aura out to get a better feel for the kid and just like he thought, he only sensed the barest of wisps where the core should have been, which meant he hadn’t been initiated yet, and while he could be working for someone, the odds of that were remote.

  “Go train and stop wasting time in random alleys.”

  The kid’s hand flashed up and caught the glinting coin that he then cradled, eyes shining before he looked up. “My name’s Olly, sir.”

  Miles blinked, then his brows furrowed again. “Why are you telling me that?”

  Looking around, Olly urgently wrapped the coin in a barely held-together scarf he pulled out of his neck before he tucked both somewhere under his holey pants and as he did, he spoke. “This is like them stories, sir. A lucky encounter. I thought I’d throw my name in there to nudge things along, in case you happen to be looking for an assistant or such. The matron always said you have to keep an eye open for this sort of things. Destiny won’t open a door to those who can’t be arsed to knock. And there’s a door open right here!”

  Miles’ frown mellowed, but he was still confused. He couldn’t argue there. The kid’s logic checked out. Still, there were some inconsistencies. “And why’s the matron letting you walk around in rags? You don’t look… like you’re doing well.”

  Now that he was seeing the kid a little better, Miles didn’t like what he was seeing. Olly’s cheeks were sunken. There were a little too many bruises just under the neck and around the limb. For the first time since this encounter began, the kid’s expression closed up and he looked away, glancing toward the busy street. “Not a place for me,” he muttered, his eyes shifting. Was that guilt?

  Miles leaned back slowly. “Did something happen with the matrons? Is it the other kids?”

  The kid squirmed, but the seconds went by, and no answer came through. Miles considered dropping it, but before he could say that, Olly’s lips pressed into a line. “The matron wouldn’t stop… someone from being a little monster, sir. So I put dung in his boot and ran for it. If I go back he’ll kill me, and they’ll do nothing ‘cus he’s so important. They didn’t do nothing before, and I don’t think they’d start now,” he added bitterly.

  That… that was familiar. Sighing, Miles’ shoulder dropped and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Fine. I’ll see if I can manage something. In the meantime,” Miles began, digging into his storage and grabbing a sandwich which he gently lobbed at the kid who nimbly caught it. “Keep an eye on the alley. I’m waiting for a big group. If more kids show up, crack the door shut and if the group show up with the door closed, tell them to wait. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir!” Olly said, already tearing into the wrapped sandwich before stepping away from the gate.

  Miles silently stood up, eyes still set on where the kid had been, then he let out a sigh and shook his head before he trudged away toward the patches he and Hazel had worked on, dragging the door along with him and when he arrived, he summoned the table he’d used the last time, still splattered with some dirt, then began arraying his tools and seeds.

  Eventually, he’d get to enjoy his break. Today wasn’t the day. But at least he’d be able to keep himself busy for a little bit. Still, as he filled the table and organized his seeds, he could feel some of the tension drain away from his shoulders and soon enough, his hands moved a little faster as he arrayed everything. It might be nice to bring in some birds in the space. Wind was fine, but a few singing birds would be nice.

  Miles was humming, wondering how far Hazel and the others were when his hand froze, hovering over a little wooden bowl full of dusty corn seeds.

  In all the action, he’d overlooked a detail and looking down at the table, he sucked the air between his teeth, then looked around for a better spot and briskly stepped toward it, a big—though a little anxious—smile tugging on his lips.

  He was about to see Aunt Seren for the first time in a while. He’d better prepare a better reception than a table full of seeds.

  another chapter is needed after that, then I'll let ya all know.