For the final challenge on the final day, all of the trainees were brought outside the castle wall about an hour’s ride away. The weather had warmed up rather dramatically by now, and clearly, the powers-that-be decided this was an excellent reason for a field trip.

  Trainees were paired with full guardsmen as they followed a train of carriages holding the lord of their lands and his advisors.

  Squirt was the only pixie on horseback.

  The guard she was paired with was a good-natured sort of fey named Tobias. His face was soft and boyish, his eyes the bright brown-gold type of hazel, his brown hair soft and wavy.

  He leaned a little closer, clear amusement in his eyes she suspected was from the fact that they’d given her a massive Clydesdale to ride. She’d certainly caught more than one of the castle’s guards snickering after she passed them, a tiny pixie on top of one of the biggest draft horses they had.

  Dropping her eyes and ignoring the titters, she was pleased when she realized he wasn’t going to engage her in conversation like the rest were. Instead, he turned forward, starting his horse after the rest of the train in front of them, thankfully making no further comment. Even better, her steed, while massive, had a gentle, easy gait that didn’t throw her all around, making for a rather smooth ride.

  Squirt relaxed as the minutes rolled by, occasionally rubbing her hands together for warmth as she mentally grumbled about damn shifters and their ability to withstand the chill still in the air.

  Tobias wore little armor, as like with most shifters it had to transform with him. Her armor, meanwhile, had extra padding to make it fit her small frame, which was one of the few reasons she never froze even in winter. Unfortunately, that benefit didn’t extend to her hands.

  Tobias wore shoulder pads, back armor, a pleated leather skirt and not much else. Some shifters had neck guards that acted as chest guards in fey form, though Tobias was missing that piece. The non-shifter Guard members—like Squirt—usually wore a helm, chest armor, and bracers. Some had more, particularly if they were like Zakam, both enormously large and meant to draw attention and take the blows, and some had less, like Jul opting to forego the helm for better visibility when casting. All of their armor was done in browns or black with the crest of the Royal Guard inscribed into the breastplate along with their territory—Everwinter. Other than that, what they wore underneath mattered little so long as it matched the same restrictions of dark colors.

  Most fey liked bright colors in their wardrobe, so thankfully, that vague color scheme worked to set them apart from other fey. Stalf had told her a story about the uniform colors being an ode to the ideals of the job, whereby forgoing the bright expressions available, they were choosing to put others first. It was bullshit, of course—it was because they needed to be able to blend in when necessary. Besides, maintaining bright colors was too damn difficult to do.

  For the first while of their journey, Squirt simply scanned the trees and listened quietly to the forest. It was too noisy to make out any of the quiet conversations of the other pairs. She could barely hear more than the general cadence of their voices, though she could tell the other trainees were being more friendly than she. Her partner didn’t seem bothered, and frankly, she preferred the silence.

  Instead, she focused her attention elsewhere and recognized a few key markers of feybeasts as they went. Claw marks on a tree. A flicker of light in the distant shade. And what she was pretty sure were the telltale tips of earth tree roots.

  Tobias whispered, “Why didn’t you fly?”

  She stiffened.

  He studied her with an amused smile before he said, “On the obstacle course yesterday—you could have flown over those barriers. It was allowed. But you didn’t. It’s not because of their color, is it?”

  She weighed her answer carefully, studying him and trying to figure out his game. But there was a genuine curiosity in his eyes, and as her superior, it would be rude to not answer a direct question.

  Returning her eyes to scanning the forest, she said simply, “I can’t shield.”

  He studied her closely, clearly thinking through her response.

  When it was clear he wasn’t satisfied with that answer and wasn’t about to drop it, she scowled and added, “Wings are a big target. In a fight, I can’t shield them.”

  There was a certain, annoying twinkle in his eye as he said, “But yesterday wasn’t a fight, it was an obstacle course.”

  Her jaw ticking, she responded, “It is as you say, Guard Tobias.”

  He chuckled but let the conversation die off there.

  An hour later, they arrived at a set of ruins built into the ground. The tops of the walls were level with the surrounding area, allowing those watching to peer down into the maze-like structure. On each side was a decently sized room with a pedestal and a flag planted on top of it. One white. One black.

  Great. Capture the flag. Yippie.

  The instructors explained the usual. Two teams, time limit one hour, try to protect your own flag while taking the other team’s flag. Then, they began to call out individuals, sending them one at a time to the entrance on one side or the other.

  Squirt stepped closer, peering over the side. Reaching into her bag for her notebook, she started copying down a rough map of the area while waiting for her name to be called.

  The first two called were the team leaders—naturally, Jul and Zakam. One by one, everyone got assigned and sent down. Squirt studied those down in the pit, noting how they all looked up in surprise before huddling around their teammates, likely trading strategies. Soon, Squirt noted, she was one of the last ones to be called.

  A few more names were called.

  And nope. She was the last one.

  The instructor called out her name, assigning her to the black team with Jul.

  Great.

  She dutifully trotted down the steps to join her teammates as Jul was calling out orders and positions. It was annoying how masterfully he was pulling everyone together, giving them all tasks. Despite being one of the first ones called, he’d created a perfect map of the entirety of the ruins using his magic and was using it to discuss tactics.

  He went all the way down the line, using every second of the prep time before the whistles blew for the start of the game. “Bellona, you head this way. Distract with your illusions. If the bull comes through, confuse him, turn him around, send him back the other way. Vlost, you’re on strike team B, head towards the target around this way. Your goal is to engage and make sure your team makes it through, even if they have to leave you behind to do so. Axem, you’re on defense—see if you can create fake walls to trick our opponents into thinking they’ve hit dead ends. Squirt—”

  She stared up at him, waiting.

  He hesitated, pursing his lips in a mix of annoyance and pity. “You… guard the flag.”

  That arrogant, snot-nosed, stick-up-his-ass—

  Without another word, he turned and stood ready with the others, answering any last questions and repeatedly going over the plan with each of them, building their confidence in his charisma and strategy.

  Leaving Squirt silently fuming.

  Fine. He wanted her to guard the flag? She would guard the fucking flag.

  Turning around, she scanned the room. It was decently sized. Above them it looked like solid stone even if the lighting was still exactly as it would be outside. The walls were made of gray, stone bricks of varying sizes and shapes that came together in a surprisingly cohesive way, like an accidental pattern. The room was mostly just a plain, square room, with four columns for extra support, two on the right, two on the left. At the front of the room, there were two curved alcoves with statues of the God of Light and Goddess of Darkness. Trotting over to inspect, the statues offered plenty of cover, and the alcove plenty of shadow for someone as small as herself.

  Turning around, she trotted closer to the flag and measured it with her eyes. Then scanned around the corners of the rooms, chewing her lip in thought.

  “Two minutes, everyone.”

  Ignoring the increased tittering and nerves, she trotted herself over along the walls, looking in the shadowed section until she found the brick she wanted. Kneeling down in front of it, she pulled out a small chisel and mallet, carefully breaking up the grout around the brick. Much like she thought it might, it fell away, and using an extremely sharp knife from her collection of tools, she managed to cut the rest of it away and pull out the stone. Reaching her small hand in with the chisel, she began to carve out a gap behind where the brick was.

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  “Go!”

  Her team all rushed out of the room, leaving her behind.

  She estimated fifteen minutes or so before the bull came charging in. And according to the rules, the flag only could not be taken from this room by their team. There was no rule against moving it.

  Trotting over to the pedestal, she pulled a thin mirror out of the pouch on her hip, sliding it until it was under the flag. Carefully holding the flag in place, she engaged the enchantment, taking a visual copy of the object and projecting it as it was.

  She pulled the actual flag out, trotted back over to the hole in the wall, and shoved it in. Then she picked up the stone brick and reached back into her pouch for some sticky tack. It wasn’t exactly the same color as grout and would be noticeable after a few days, but for the next hour or so, the color would match the grout close enough.

  Ruins were fairly common, and there were quite a few around her village. Dungeons could spawn randomly, and when cleared, they often left behind ruins. That’s probably what this ruin was. Since they were spawned by magic, they always had a general magical aura about them. Meaning even after they were cleared, they tended to make good places to set traps for feybeasts, so she’d had the sticky tack on hand.

  Finished putting the brick back in place, she then carefully brushed all traces of the grout away until it mixed with the natural dust and dirt that had accumulated over centuries here.

  Then she put her hands on her hips, debating. Now that the immediate danger was resolved, what she really needed was just to slow anyone who reached her down and run out the clock. The laughing mushrooms were perfect for that, but she’d need a way to slow her opponents down long enough for it to take effect.

  Which also meant she’d need to set it up and be hidden when they came in the room.

  Biting her lip, she pulled out her notebook with the sketch of the rooms, remembering the details of what she heard from Jul of his plans.

  Nodding to herself, she left the room, turning right, following the path when it turned left, and stopping by the first entry point into the hallway there. Pulling out her chisel, she found a good spot that would be behind the pillar from the perspective of someone walking into the space, even if it would be obvious walking out, and dug out a section of the grout.

  Reaching into her pouch, she pulled out three crystals made out of a single feystone, setting one into the wall. Then she repeated her steps on the other side and did the same. Grabbing the last crystal, she ran back into the room, sticking it under her tongue—it would cool suddenly if someone broke the line between the other two.

  That finished, she reached into her bag to start setting up her first trap when she heard a roar and the breaking of stone.

  Crap. Already?

  She darted forward and behind the statue, her heart hammering as she reached into her pouch and pulled out her slingshot. She loaded up a shot of the laughing mushroom powder and waited.

  Seconds later, she heard the stomping from down the hallway. The bull had only partially transformed, entering into the room in his minotaur form, huffing and puffing out plumes of air. He snorted as he saw the flag. Stepping up to it, he swiped his hand through it, then stared, stupefied.

  She hit him with the shot while he was confusedly swiping his hand through the flag to try and grab the incorporeal object. He grunted when the sack hit him and exploded in a plume of powder, snorting and sneezing and waving it off. He tried twice more to grab the nonexistent flag before he stumbled, falling drunkenly backwards as he shifted to his fey form with a giggle.

  Squirt counted the next ten seconds off carefully before she risked coming out of her hiding spot. She covered her face with her enchanted handkerchief to avoid the residual powder as the big bull shifter laid sprawled out in his leathers, a doped up smile on his face and dead asleep.

  Trotting over, she double checked he was out, lifting up his eyelids before lifting an arm and dropping it.

  Not even the slightest of stirring.

  Nodding in satisfaction, she grabbed his arm and attempted to tug him away. She tried. She pulled. She grunted and groaned.

  He didn’t budge.

  She scowled down at his massive body, annoyed, and frankly, offended. No one had any right to be that large.

  Giving up on moving him, she put her hands on her hips to consider the man. Reevaluate.

  Decided, she shifted him to his side, reached into her pouch, and pulled out an empty wine bottle she used for certain types of collections, putting it under one of his massive hands. Reaching back in, she warmed up a bit of sticky tack before shifting his head to rest on his palm. Using a stick from one of her trap kits, she propped him up with the stick on the base of the stairs so he looked like he was comfortable, using the sticky tack to keep the stick in place.

  There. Now he looked like he’d just gotten drunk and passed out. That should confuse any other interlopers enough to give Squirt the time she needed to hit them with the mushroom shots.

  She crossed her arms, studying the scene.

  Remembering Jul’s pitying face.

  Everyone’s constant dismissal.

  She could do better.

  … fuck it. She would do better.

  More explosions and sounds of battle passed before the next people ran in, the rabbit shifter and an elf woman. They stopped in the open doorway, confused by the scene before them. Their leader, who had come charging to the center so quickly he’d knocked down some of the walls that blocked his path, was passed out drunk at the foot of the staircase to the flag.

  The rabbit shifter took a step forward before there was a burst of red smoke. He screamed and cried, rolling on the floor as he desperately tried to put out what he was certain was fire hot enough to burn off his skin. His companion tried to shake him, only then there was a soft plume of white smoke, and the most intoxicating laughter lulled them into sweet dreams.

  The next one to show up was a female orc, who stopped, staring in confusion at the elf happily snuggled up on top of the rabbit shifter said elf had been cussing out less than thirty minutes ago, added to the earlier scene of the orc’s drunken leader.

  Immediately suspicious, she waited at the entrance until she was joined by a wind pixie. After a brief argument, the wind pixie floated forward only for a tiny tripwire to be caught on their torso. They glance down at it as each end snapped, coiling with frightening speed and smacking them in their delicate wings. They flew forward in a rush, only for a burst of thorns to hit their skin.

  The orc jumped in to help, releasing another blazing ant trap that had her howling in agony. Still, she pushed through it, panting as she bravely charged ahead and grabbed the injured pixie, protecting them with her body—

  Only for a white powder to hit them between shots of thorns. Disoriented and confused, she smacked the bag that had exploded in a plume away, scanning for threats and seeing nothing. Nothing, that is, until the most intoxicating sound beckoned her to sweet dreams.

  ***

  Strangely, Squirt could have sworn more than an hour had already passed since the challenge had first begun.

  It was possible there wasn’t actually a time limit at all, even if they said there was one at the beginning. Which would be bad. For one, the mushroom powder only lasted so long. She had maybe another hour before the shifter genetics kicked in and kicked the drug out of her victims’ systems.

  For another, she would run out of traps long before the game ended. She only had so many shots of the mushroom powder, and too many consecutive hits could have some rather nasty side effects. Like death.

  Best to not risk it.

  More time passed until she was certain they had blown right past the initial one-hour time limit. Then a whole crowd appeared at the open doorway to the room. At the front of it was Instructor Hawke, the wild silver haired man with an impressive, matching mustache who had handed Squirt the practice sword on day one, and Jul, his eyes wide in stunned disbelief at the scene before him. The rest of the trainees crowded around the front, while the solid stone ceiling suddenly disappeared, revealing the crowd grinning down at them. Guards and ennobled fey along with the lord of the castle himself.

  Instructor Hawke laughed boisterously. “Alright. One sun piece for whoever can bring me the flag.”

  Squirt wasn’t sure if this was a new type of bullying against her or a roundabout compliment. Either way, she hesitated, not yet raising her slingshot with her next powder shot.

  It was clear the game was over, after all, so there really wasn’t a point.

  The other trainees, meanwhile, had no such hesitation. Several whooped and jumped into the room. All it took was one landing on a blazing ant trap to disorient and disrupt the others. The boom and poof of red smoke scattered those who had jumped into the fray in all directions, accidentally setting off more traps. And more.

  Soon the air in the entire room was a bright red, and Squirt wrapped the enchanted handkerchief around her mouth and quickly grabbed a pair of goggles from her pouch to keep herself safe.

  Some of those present realized the fix, dousing themselves in water magic and cleansing themselves or their companions of the substance. Still others triggered a few of the other traps until one finally yelled, “I got it!” before swiping through the projection.

  The room came to a standstill. Jul spoke in a bright, awed voice, “It’s a mirror spell.”

  It wasn’t, but this was how things went with that kind of person.

  Squirt decided, putting her slingshot back in her pouch, spitting out the crystal in her mouth, crossing her arms, and waiting.

  The púca said, “Wait, but… if that’s not the flag…”

  All of the remaining trainees exchanged glances.

  “… you know, I think I’m good—”

  “—could be anywhere—”

  “—really don’t like that red powder—”

  “—so are they like, together, or….?”

  That last one was aimed at the rabbit and elf happily snugged against each other.

  Laughing again, Instructor Hawke easily commanded everyone’s attention as he said, “Incredible. Alright, lass, mind resetting the room for us?”

  Squirt eyed him warily, but she knew better than to argue. Though she really wished they hadn’t called so much attention to this.

  Not as much as she wished she had never gotten so carried away.

  She bowed and intoned, “As you wish.”

  Carefully, she put her feet on the spots in the ground she had set as safe, setting about the work of disarming the rest of the traps one by one. It took less time to pull the traps apart than than setting them up, but there were enough of them that by the time she finished the last one, the bull Zakam was slowly rising to confused consciousness.

  Finished, she turned and bowed to the instructor, waiting.

  His eyes twinkled down on her. “And the flag?”

  She slowly straightened, her eyes lifting to meet his with a barely contained scowl. She huffed. “As you wish.”

  Turning on her heel, she trotted over to the shaded spot behind the column in the back right of the room. Pulling out the long, thin tool knife she had, she carefully pried the loose brick out of the stonework. She set the stone aside, reached in, and pulled out the real flag.

  Immediate clamors and shouted accusations of cheating started, and Instructor Hawke’s charismatic smile dropped. He rounded on them with a chilling glare, crushing them with his magic and roaring, “Enough!”

  The crowd fell silent.

  He glared at them all. “In a real event, where you had to defend a real treasure, you should use everything at your disposal to do so. Instead, most of you here were so focused on the glory of earning victory to your team, you forgot the basic rule for any of the Guard—that winning is about protecting at all costs. In a real scenario, capturing the enemy would be meaningless if you had failed in your duty to protect that which matters most. I want you all to ask yourselves one very, very important question—how is it that a greenling pixie managed to best you all?”

  Squirt subtly shifted backwards towards the shadows. The old man was making her a damn target, and she hated him for it. He wouldn’t be the one to face the consequences of this.

  He turned and strode towards her, putting his hand on her shoulder, though he had to stoop a little to do so. “Well done, lass. Come along.” He started pushing her up the slope, his eyes on the titled fey staring down at them. A stone dropped in Squirt’s stomach, realizing that in allowing her temper to get the better of her, she had garnered the attention of powerful fey.

  And that was always a dangerous thing to do.

  Unable to fight it, Squirt allowed him to steer her with all of the enthusiasm of traipsing off to the gallows on the day of her own execution.