Sometimes the best robberies occurred without anyone on the receiving end knowing that anything was wrong…

  A trading hub at the north end of the redoubt, where the autumnal slope leveled out into a high plateau, provided the only major resupply location for pilgrims in the region. In the off-season, it was operating as a sleepy highland chateau, all workers and no guests.

  A diminutive church at this settlement was so small it didn’t even have a name. No larger than a waystation shrine along the roadside. The real target was at the very edge of the settlement, adjacent to a north-facing gatehouse and a wooden wall made from locally sourced wood.

  Calaf approached a pair of guards standing before the shrine. His spoofing rings listed him as Corvo, a Level 68 Paladin. Swapping aliases and appearing several levels above typical for any given region were essential aspects of any scam.

  “Halt,” said a guard, Level 56. “None may pass. This shrine contains essential holy relics of Fort Duran.”

  “Oh? And what are they doing here?” Calaf asked at a normal volume.

  A handful of Paladin-adjacent doodads were strewn about the ‘dungeon’ of Fort Duran. They’d been smuggled out, or otherwise retrieved, during a siege and mass purging of heretics at the fort towards the tail end of the last pilgrimage season. Once, Calaf assumed these relics were used for worship and meditation in the church-sanctioned dungeon network.

  “The relics are to be set up around the Fort in preparation for the next Pilgrimage season,” said a guard. “We are to secure this reliquary until a Paladin can arrive to set and place the relics.”

  “Yes.” Calaf nodded. “I am that Paladin.”

  The guards examined his Menu designation. One nodded. He was indeed an at-level Paladin, spoofing rings unnoticed beneath his gauntlets. A deep look into Calaf’s Interface designation would reveal the ruse. But such things were invasive and required a great deal of rooting through menus. He would simply allay suspicion to the point where nobody was motivated to pry.

  “We were told to hold on to these until General Perarde himself returns to place them.”

  Calaf stifled a grimace. Of course, the orders would come from the Hammer of Faith.

  Just as Jelena taught him, Calaf took one deep breath to refocus, then lied out his teeth.

  Ad-lib a plausible name and rank to rival the Hammer of Faith.

  “Well, Archbishop Canterbury of the….” Think of a location too far away to cross-reference but of utmost importance. “… the great Abbey south of Riverglen, has sent me on this quest to populate the holy relics around Fort Duran.”

  The two guards looked at themselves.

  “Well, they’re not supposed to be placed in the wayshrines for another two weeks.”

  Calaf put on a scowl. “Well the archbishop says it needs to be done now. The church arbiters will be delayed on a...” Think of a plausible and high-priority delay. “… heretic hunt. The order has gone down to populate the dungeon now.”

  “We’d need-”

  “No, no, you don’t understand. The archbishop says it needs to be done right now.” Calaf tried his best to appear indignant. “Don’t you now there are relic thieves about? I will escort the relics to the fort.”

  There was nobody in proximity to run this order by, and if they were they, too, would not have authorization to override an archbishop. And so, the guards let ‘Paladin Corvo,’ invested with authority from a possibly nonexistent archbishop from a remote but deeply important church outpost, into the shrine.

  Double doors opened.

  Calaf walked into the reliquary hall – more of a closet. A set of relics presented themselves.

  Early on in his hunt for Jelena, Calaf learned that the left-behind relics of the Ancient Heroes of Yore were used by high-level church personnel to edit aspects of the Interface. Jelena and Enkidu, bereft of the Menu such that they were, hadn’t even been aware of this when they’d started stealing and hawking relics.

  Here Calaf was, poking through the Autumn’s Redoubt reliquary looking for artifacts to nick. Appealing to authority would get you through doors that an armed incursion never could.

  As the official stomping grounds of the Martyred Paladin, most artifacts were Sheilder and tank-related.

  Calaf cringed at that last one. Reusable tents and campsites were invaluable items, but the side effects were potentially troublesome. They’d have to remember not to select that one in place of a regular camp.

  One more relic remained. It was unlike the others, being just a piece of antiquated paper, brittle to the touch.

  Huh. It was rare to associate a relic from the ancient Thief (or Scout, the church insisted on calling him the Scout) with a Paladin-centric holy site. Calaf hesitated, as the paper was so frail and weather-damaged that it looked as if it would disintegrate into dust at a touch. Instead, Calaf scooped it up into his Inventory, and the relic transferred into a more secure, safer form.

  Strange that the church didn’t just keep it in someone’s Inventory, or at least an Inventory-compatible container, for safekeeping, Calaf thought as he gathered the relics.

  With a Squire’s Endurance, he could more than fit the extra weight into his Inventory. The actual calculations for Inventory weight were complicated, but it expanded exponentially such that even a mid-level tank could carry most of a party’s loot.

  Calaf marched out of the reliquary closet. He nodded to the guards, then marched south. It was important to keep up the illusion that he was heading to Fort Duran to drop these off. Just out of sight, he ducked behind a supply store. Jelena, Zilara, and Enkidu were waiting.

  “Not even suspicious?” Jelena smiled. “Having a Sheilder around is handy. Church types see a Paladin and they immediately grow extra trusting.”

  “We should head out,” Enkidu said. “This ruse will not work forever.”

  The group attempted exfiltration out of the southern gatehouse of this minor outpost. They stopped, as a long procession was marching through, headed north.

  “Make way for the Arbitral Inquisitor Auxiliary Corps,” blared a herald.

  The who and the what?

  The group took up a watch behind a quiet and rarely-used warehouse. They watched as this Arbitarial Auxillary marched in. Rows of Paladins, Clerics, and the odd Battlemage at the end of every formation formed a group of thereabout fifty arranged in parties of five. Scouts were notably absent from the formation – through a dedicated party of five consisting of nothing but Scouts walked through the southern gate fifteen minutes prior.

  So, a large multi-party configuration of level 65 and above soldier types, all mature endgame classes.

  “Hmmm. Well, church arbiters can’t be everywhere. Guess they recruited a small army of random adventurers,” Jelena said.

  Recruiting and integrating higher-level adventurers with three or more pilgrimages under their belt would help prevent high-ranking faithful from gaining too much influence. It was a high-level Paladin from north of Autumn’s Redoubt that had forced the church to lay siege to Fort Duran, after all.

  “Plan hasn’t changed,” Jelena said.

  “Our route out has,” Zilara added. “C’mon, we’ll head east. Double back to the safehouse.”

  A great bellowing trumpet sounded from the north. Calaf hazarded a peek around a corner and saw another retinue coming in near the reliquary storage hall. At their lead was a familiar Paladin in full demon-bone armor.

  “It’s General Perarde.” Calaf turned, putting the wall between him and the general.

  On instinct, Calaf scrambled his spoofing rings. He was now Caillou, a level 40 Crimson Mage with notably red hair.

  “Relax. We just have to mosey out the back door,” Jelena said. “C’mon, out the eastern gate.”

  A bellowing cry cut things short.

  “The Fort Duran relics have been stolen.” Perarde’s voice boomed unnaturally across the depot. “Secure all exits. None shall leave without turning over their entire inventory.”

  The team of four all looked to each other in turn.

  “Sorry, Enkidu, we won’t be hacking our way out this time,” Jelena said, casting a glance at Calaf.

  “Believe it or not, I do not always wish to fight every time the option becomes available,” Enkidu growled.

  Jelena ignored him. “Kid, got plan C ready?”

  “On it, Hoss.” Zilara pulled up her Interface.

  With a mental check of [Use], a set of smoke bombs arranged just beyond the western wall sent three plumes of whitish smoke careening over the forest. Both Perarde’s retinue and the incoming auxiliary corps turned to investigate. There were shouts and orders barked; someone was trying to escape to the west!

  Jelena, Calaf, and the others then nimbly fled out the east gate. Still in relatively slow armor himself, Calaf fell behind Jelena a few paces… and gasped in shock as his former rival, current lover nimbly dodged a horizontal greatsword swing that threatened to bisect her at the abdomen.

  A familiar Paladin blocked the outpost’s lone eastern gate.

  “Stop right there,” the knight began.

  “… oh, I know this one. ‘Criminal Scum!’” Jelena chuckled to herself. “We get that a lot.”

  Jorge was a pilgrim who Calaf had helped power-level long ago. Jorge and his party continued along the route while Calaf had been delayed, hitting all four major class dungeons and rising to the final class change thresholds thereabout level 65. They’d been involved more martially with anti-heresy operations, being hailed as heroes for interdicting and putting to the sword a column of fleeing civilian refugees.

  Now, though, the party was part of the Arbiter Auxiliary Corps. Calaf squeezed his hand into a fist, feeling the array of spoofing rings that served as his disguise.

  There were two other figures on the other side of the gate.

  Both had upgraded weapons and official, Arbitral junior-partner armor a step down from the Arbiters themselves. It would be another dozen levels – an entire lifetime, with exponential level scaling – before they started donning demonbone armor.

  Sarah’s not here. They’d had a healer with them last time.

  “They’re over here!” Jorge yelled.

  Over on the far end of the outpost, their smoke screen would be running out soon.

  The Paladin held his shield aloft for a shield bash, ready to ruin the posse’s positioning and footing, to leave them off balance for the small army that would soon be storming this gate at their backs.

  “Where’s Sarah?” Calaf asked.

  “Hmm?” Gerard tilted his head.

  “Didn’t want to leave the tent,” Jorge said, mostly to himself. “Wait, how the hell do you-”

  Letting the name slip was a risky gambit that threatened his disguise, but it caused Jorge to lower his shield and delay his shield bash. Enkidu leaped at the Paladin and brought his sword down, slicing a wedge into the shield.

  Over in the wings, Gerard prepped his twin-knives while Isaac’s Zweihander-catalyst began to glow with a spark of electricity. No sooner was the first bolt of lightning sent streaking across the zeihander’s crossguards than did a great silence fall over the outpost.

  “Whoa. They’ve put down a cone of silence,” Zilara said.

  Even her chipper voice was an octave lower than typical. Greater Hush dampened every shout and footfall. It also shut down all magic, including Isaac’s attempted arc lightning.

  “Escape plan D, now!” Jelena said.

  “Magic’s a no-go,” Zilara added, with a greyed-out [Spells] section clear on her inventory. “This’ll be the last of the bombs.”

  “Use ‘em.”

  Zilara used the bombs, and the entire eastern perimeter of the outpost (and much of the area surrounding the warehouses within the walls) were filled with hefty white pillars of smoke. A screen to cover their escape. Jelena took Calaf by the hand and, alongside Zilara and Enkidu (the former riding on the latter’s shoulders) the quartet ran into the thickly forested woods.