The situation was intolerable! Khemyst Twenty-Seven hadn't been so angry and frustrated in years. He wanted to wipe the sneer off the little ratkin's face and prove his superiority. A vision of this nuisance groveling at his feet danced through his mind, and he knew nothing would please him except for seeing it caged and taken to the Animal Experiments Building in Bloth. However, the pool of dangerous liquids swirling around his feet gave him pause. He was smart enough to delay his next attack and use a break in the battle to his advantage. Sixty-Four wasn't quite dead, and Forty-One was a stubborn fighter, even if he did come from an evolved race. (Why the hell had they elected to keep their tails was beyond him. It was a constant reminder of their origins. Perhaps now that Forty-One was missing most of his he would make the correct decision. But that was advice he could give later. Right now, he had to deal with Tallsqueak.

  "Talk? Well, if you can be civilized, perhaps we can talk. Have you come to your senses and wish to negotiate? I can cut you a small break for information about Gadobhra."

  The mention of Gadobhra had shocked him. There were rumors in Bloth that the city of Gadobhra was active again, but how did this pitiful creature know of it? The Arch-Lich of the Necropolis had bragged of his dealings with the new Baron while trying to trade skulls for mana. The Portal Master had laughed, and of course, no one had believed him. At least at first. The ruling council had spies everywhere, even in the sunny lands far above. They were tight with their information, as was proper, but someone had eventually taken Twenty-seven's gold in return for sharing a few tidbits of info with him. Gadobhra was indeed active, and as it had before, posing a threat to everyone. The Empire had already constructed a massive fortress to hold the city in check. The new Baron was gathering an army of ancient war machines and monsters. The high numbers were debating opening talks with the city. If Twenty-seven could gain valuable information about the Gadobhra, he could barter it for a higher position in the queue. Of course, the information would have to be verified by torture and truth drugs. No one would take the word of a lesser race begging for his life. They'd say anything. He'd have to make sure that if he killed Tallsqueak, there was enough left to revivify.

  Tallsqueak nodded slightly, "Civilized? Let us use the word 'Logical', I've met too many people claiming to be civilized who do terrible things."

  "True, but I would hate to limit what anyone of culture and breeding was free to do if they had the power to do so, but if you prefer Logical over Civilized, I can work with the idea. What does logic tell you about this situation?"

  "Oh, several things. Firstly, you don't want to have an incendiary shell, or even a simple Spark cantrip, to set off the liquid mixture you're standing in. You'll take damage and be hampered by the flames and the explosion. Secondly, you were not expecting someone like me to push back on negotiations. We can chalk up some of the unpleasantness to your surprise, but only part. I can assume that other people from your city will most likely have similar attitudes and business styles. I can adjust and have dealt with your type before."

  Milo pointed to the ruined myconian/mechanical hybrids, "You also assumed, incorrectly, that your enhanced War Forms were more powerful than they proved to be. Did you test them? Taking something into battle untested can be disappointing. Or was this your test run? Never test against unknown variables. But, never mind, doesn't matter. They were no match for four festively garbed dwarves out for a walk. While dwarves are prone to carrying weapons with them, your creatures were created as front-line heavy fighters. That they got their asses handed to them by drunken spanner boys with beribboned beards points to some design flaws. Logic tells me that based on the battlefield situation, you should sue for peace. Of course, this assumes you are rational and haven't been inhaling too much adhesive. So I conclude that the next move is up to you, and if it's a wrong move, you'll be the center of an intense firestorm and dodging high-velocity attacks. That hasn't worked well for you, so far. I'll offer to tell you everything I know about Gadobhra in exchange for all of my demands being met."

  Twenty-seven nodded slightly. He hated doing so, but it had been a very fine speech, with inherent logical traps and many threats. "All of them? I can accede to financial situations and business dealings, but I believe you also insisted on a demand that I acknowledge you as part of a non-slave race. Are you still insisting on that bit of fantasy? I have history on my side."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Milo didn't blink. "I don't care about what came before. No race, even spiders and eels, should be made slaves, or continue being slaves. Referring to others as a 'slave-race' means someone is going to try. I reject this."

  Twenty-seven saw that Sixty-four was twitching slightly. That was good; he wasn't braindead and had activated his emergency healing reserves. Forty-one was staying quiet, but also looked better. He was playing the part of a cowed and beaten opponent well, hoping his life would be spared. Twenty-seven had too much pride to ever do that himself, but in this situation, it was good that Forty-one could take one for the team. They'd taunt him about it forever, but that would help him recover faster and stiffen his spine.

  "I see. Perhaps you and I could agree that you, yourself, are not a suitable slave? You seem to have both pride, cunning, and strength of will in abundance. Let us ignore the rest of the world and speak about your own future. We can put aside our differences, work to make profitable business dealings, and turn this situation around. Doing business with Bloth, or even entering into one of our fine apprentice programs in Alchemy, Profiteering, or Mad Science, could be within your reach. Who knows? You might be the next Damien Franklin with my tutoring."

  Tallsqueak actually smiled at the end of his speech, then said. "But the original is still around, and anyone who tries to steal his reputation will find themselves strapped to a lightning accumulator. And after the two of us improved the machines in Gadobhra, I don't recommend that."

  "You claim to have met him! Preposterous...the man is...is...? Is he really working for the Baron of Gadobhra? What proof do you have?"

  Tallsqueak took the question seriously, surprising Twenty-seven, who was sure it was a lie. "Proof? Well, other than one of his wanted posters that he graciously signed for me, not a lot on me. But I suppose you could go visit him. Does Blothbezmadan still have a working teleporter?"

  "That is information I will not divulge. You're on a fishing trip with poor bait."

  "I'm not good at fishing. Captain Pike told me I was doing it wrong, using myself for bait. But I did kill a lot of eels. I feel we are getting off track here, and those chemicals may spontaneously combust at any moment. I suggest you remove your armor and weapons so we can get down to business."

  Twenty-seven sighed. It was true, the mixture at his feet was about to explode. Best to make use of that. He kept his hands still, but pointed a finger at Sixty-four and Forty-one, firing small, silent darts at each. Sixty-Four began to spasm and twitch, while Forty-One stood up and roared like a dragon who found a spot of rust on a gold statue. While the dwarves' attention was shifted to his former colleagues, he pushed two studs on his wrists. Milo saw he was up to something and tossed a small bit of flame at the pool. The heavy fumes rising from the chemicals ignited immediately, forming a firestorm that burned hotter than he expected. He stepped back a step, only to watch the conflagration die, the heat and flames sucked into a dark, glowing sphere surrounding an unharmed Twenty-seven.

  The other two Ur-Khemysts were undergoing transformations that reminded him of watching Charlotte become a cheese fiend. Their armor and clothing were shredded as they grew larger and more physically powerful. Sixty-four was now a huge, bulbous mass of fat and muscle, his layers jiggling and greasy with some type of gelatinous coating. Forty-one had reverted to a reptilian ancestor, standing ten feet tall with armored hide, massive claws, and a long, powerful tail. Even as the light of intelligence faded from his eyes, he switched the restored tail back and forth with joy. Both monstrosities turned toward the dwarves, who were backing quickly away from the flaming explosion.

  Boom-Boom yelled out, "Woohoo, second round! Let's get this party started."

  Twenty-seven looked at Milo with pure malice in his eyes. "Indeed, round two begins, and for you, it will be your final one. Surrender now and practice your groveling. It will go easier on you."

  Milo's answer was to begin casting two spells at once.