Rob X Punzel ~ Forty-One!

With every footfall leading her deeper into the slums, Goldie became more uneasy. Dozens of people were peeking out of windows, through the spaces between boards, and none of their gazes were friendly. “By the system, I better hope I don't sneeze too loudly and set them off. Everyone in this place looks ready to gut someone if they think it’ll give them a slight advantage.”

Slowing down even further, Goldie pressed her back to a wall and carefully shuffled past a small group of candidates huddled together, their eyes following every movement she made and assessing her for weakness. 

“You with the Herzogin?”

“I haven't declared for anyone just yet; I wanted to get more information first,” Goldie carefully explained, never coming to a stop as she inched past them. “The ‘recruiters’ at the entrance told me I could go look around, but I should decide soon.”

One of the trio scoffed at her. “None of us came here to end up as someone else's pawn. If you want to join the independent alliance, come back here anytime. We came to prove we were the strongest, and we're going to make sure that's how this all goes down.”

“Good to know; thank you very much,” Goldie responded in a placating tone. She continued moving along the wall, even after she was well past the small group. Once she was certain she was well away from them, she rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Independent alliance? Those two things don't go together. All it means is they’ll probably turn on each other last. Now, that creepy guy on the stairs had said the exit is on the other side of the area, so that must mean the exit will line up with the checkpoint between the slums and the merchant district. That means take a left here…”

Even with as slow as she was moving, Goldie was certain her intimate knowledge of this replicated area was allowing her to make good time compared to anyone else who had made it this far. The slums were a massive maze, intentionally designed to confuse outsiders and make it easier for people with nothing to lose to scurry away when the iron grip of those in power began to squeeze. 

Nearly two hours later, after wandering along the most direct path she could take in her current state—running the thieves’ road wasn't an option when she was this injured—she finally stepped out into no man's land. 

Exactly as she had expected, the checkpoint had been replaced with the exit.

Goldie looked at the massive metal door engraved with the royal crest and arcane runes standing in place of the basic gate she knew existed in the real version of the slums. Unlike her solo travel for the last long hours, here she was nowhere near alone. Dozens of women were clustered around the exit, faces tight with suspicion as they watched each other. Several noticed her arrival, and more joined in on glancing her way every moment. Each of the distinct groups tensed, wondering if she would be joining one of the others and tipping the scales of the too-fragile standoff. 

“Who have you declared for?” a well-enunciated voice rang out. Goldie followed the source of the sound to a woman in intensely magical armor: plate mail with a set of what she could only assume were not ornamental wings built into the back of them. 

Knowing better than to make enemies for no reason, Goldie slowly and painfully went through the motions of paying her respects to those who were of a far higher social strata than herself. “I have not yet declared-”

There was a sharp buzz of annoyance as members from each group cast dark looks her way. Goldie heard one comment that was slightly louder than the rest that made her blood run cold. “Another independent; we should put her down like the others before she can-”

“But I am looking to join a group,” she hastily amended her words, causing the general hubbub to die down. “I just don't know who all is here and wanted to get a better understanding of who I was going to be following.”

“Look no further,” the woman in shining armor called out, though there was no happiness in her voice as she spoke. “I am Herzogin Brigitta, the Duchess of Stempel. My family runs four of the cities of the Brute Kingdom, second only to the royal family themselves. I made it through each of the trials in under twelve hours in total, showing that I have every trait necessary for becoming the next queen. The only reason my encampment hasn't begun our assault on the barrier is that three of these groups have allied with each other to war against me if I were to make another attempt. Yet, if we gain three more people, we will have numbers equal to their entire pathetic truce.”

“The strength of our allies is our strength as well.” The leader of another group cut in. “Though we might not be able to match you individually, the entire point of this trial is to show that we can act like a queen and align the vision of our subordinates!” 

The soft scrape of metal against leather filled the area as swords were drawn, and people began to limber up in preparation of throwing themselves into combat. Goldie lifted her right hand cautiously, her left still pressed against her broken ribs. “Look, I really can't offer much right now. I'm having trouble just breathing and walking at the same time. Can I just… you mind if I check real quick if I can take the exit reward and get out of here?”

A cold glare was all she earned for her question, and Goldie wilted under the combined weight of disdain. It was the duchess who spoke out: “The reward for exiting this floor is to serve the royal family directly. Do you truly think a position like that will last if you abandon your future queen here?”

“Well, abyss, I hadn't thought of it like that,” Goldie grumbled with intense annoyance as the others shook their heads at her lack of forethought. “But, again… not much I could do to help someone, anyway. I'd rather serve the royal family for a few days and get healed up than die from drowning in the blood slowly filling my lungs.”

She coughed loudly to punctuate her words, accepting the agonizing pain as the price she needed to pay to escape this deadly situation. Unfortunately, the fake cough rapidly turned into a real one, and Goldie could only curse softly as she lost control of her body, nearly falling to the ground. When the fit passed, she glanced down at her hand in fear, seeing a thick red paste clinging to her skin. “Oww.”

“Any of you have a healing spell?” one of the leaders quietly asked her group. “Don't think it would be too hard to recruit her if we could fix that problem.”

“Just go already,” another voice called out with deep frustration as Goldie swayed back and forth, nearly too dizzy to stay upright. “She's just a weakling… we can fight when someone worth recruiting shows up.”

Knowing she wasn't going to get more of a response than this, Goldie began slowly moving between the groups, hoping against hope that no one would decide to put her out of her misery. She crept toward the much smaller door positioned next to the grand metal one, reaching out hopefully and pushing on it… to no avail. Her face crumpled as she realized someone from her cohort must have already taken the exit. 

“Abyssal Heidi.” Goldie let out a long-suffering sigh as she turned to face the dozens of eyes locked on her, continuing her soft tirade, “First you leave me for dead, then you sneak away and leave me to deal with this mess?”

“Heidi was here?” The low murmur swept around the groups, with handfuls of the women glowering at the near mention of the invisible spearwoman.

“She must’ve managed to secure the exit without any of us noticing.” The duchess spoke through clenched teeth, barely able to get the words out around her fury. “That sneaky little assassin. When I find her… when I get my hands on her! She could’ve been the key to my successful engagement, and she just left without even paying her respects?”

Seeing that the groups were becoming agitated again, Goldie sidled toward the enormous metal door and looked at it more closely. Trailing a finger along its surface, she sucked in a sharp breath as the volatile magics embedded in it sent needles of pain through her hand. As she tried to shake off the pain, she murmured under her breath, “You're a vicious little thing, aren't you?”

The runes cut into the metal surface shimmered, and Goldie realized the groups behind her had gone quiet. Eyes going wide, she turned away from the door, slowly lifting her good hand above her head and wearing a chagrined expression. “Easy… easy. I was only looking at it!”

“Step away, or forfeit your life.” The duchess’s sentiment was clearly shared by everyone else, going by the sheer number of sharpened objects pointed at Goldie’s vital organs.

“Absolutely-” Goldie stated without a hint of deception in her voice, moving to take a step away, then blinking rapidly and pretending to swoon as she fell backward. “-not.”

Before anyone could react, she phased beyond the boundary of the thick door, a slow grin spreading across her face as the screams of fury on the other side reached an octave that would’ve shattered glass. The thief could understand their anger, but even as they battered against the door in unison, there wasn’t even the faintest sign that they were making any progress against its defenses. After allowing herself a moment to bask in the rare taste of victory, Goldie began climbing the stairs which would bring her to the sixth floor. 

Slowly, the sounds of furious ladies venting their fury against the inanimate object faded in the distance, and Goldie breathed deeply to calm her nerves as she moved farther into the unknown. “Am I really going to go through with this? Do I… I get to be the queen? What if I don't like the prince? Wait, do I have to marry him? Is there any other option, or is this a prize I must accept?”

Though her mind was full of doubts, she continued climbing, knowing the only way to get answers was by moving forward. Turning her focus to the stairs, she realized they were finely cut, clearly different than the unpolished eyesore of a tower below this. Not only that, but the walls were clean and reflective—not as much as the mirrored floor, thank the system—but obviously a higher grade of material had been used here. Arriving at the top of the stairs, she looked around with confusion at the lack of a reception.

“No guards, no assassins vanishing into the shadows… hopefully?” She stepped into the large open space, which must have been the twin of the throne room in the palace itself. Three thrones stood against the far wall, one made of rough stone, one covered in thick cushions meant to ease the pain of an ailing person, and one that just seemed like a slightly fancier chair than normal. 

After waiting a few more minutes, the pain of her wounds began to overcome her, and Goldie decided she needed to rest. “There's no way I'm going to be able to get back up if I lay down, so… hope I'm not breaking any major taboos here.”

Walking up to the rough stone chair, she sat on it and immediately got back to her feet, shaking her head. “Ow! Way too hard, might as well sit on the floor.”

Next she tried the soft chair, hoping it would provide some relief, but instead she sank into it at awkward angles, forcing her broken ribs to grind against each other. “Oh! No! Way too soft!”

Letting out a deep groan of pain, she slid from the chair and stumbled to the final one, sinking into it with great relief as she lightly panted, trying her best to get more air than her short breaths would allow. 

“Thank the system, this one’s ju~ust right. Now, who do I need to beg to get a scrap of food?”