Rob X Punzel ~ Forty!

The door leading upward smoothly swung open, and Goldie walked through with the pain of her broken ribs flaring with each movement. Part of her attention remained on the four remaining criminals in the room behind her—unlike the slum dwellers on floor three, she had no trust that these people wouldn't attack her for self-serving reasons. Only when the door shut behind her with no visible way to reopen it did she slowly relax. 

Unfortunately, as the adrenaline faded, her ribs and left arm simply drew more of her attention and redoubled their efforts at alerting her to their damaged state. 

Ascending the stairs, she soon came upon a small landing, where an unassuming man was sitting next to a crackling fire. Unlike the previous people who had introduced her to the next floor of the tower, he didn’t have a booming, attention-drawing voice like a herald. Nor was he wearing armor and weapons like the royal guards. Instead, he wore simple, dark, weathered clothing. The flickering shadows of the fireplace washed across him, and Goldie’s eyes kept skipping off of him whenever her attention wavered.

“The second candidate of the tenth cohort. Welcome, Rapunzel.” The voice reaching her ears was calm and measured, yet it carried an undercurrent of authority which didn't match his bland, forgettable appearance. Goldie felt her hackles rise as something about his stillness, the utter lack of wasted energy, set every one of her internal warning signals off.

Pop. The fire crackled, and Goldie's eyes flicked over to it, then back to the man… who had somehow moved in that instant and was now casually leaning against the edge of the stairwell she’d just climbed. Only the pain in her ribs kept the young woman from leaping away, and even so, it was a near thing as he calmly continued, “I imagine you're eager to hear what awaits you on the fifth floor.”

“If you wouldn't mind.” Goldie spoke in a near whisper, though she’d meant to respond in a conversational tone. Her skin was prickling, and even her hair had gone perfectly still, as if it were as simple as anyone else’s.

Unperturbed by her silence or perhaps simply used to his effect on those around him, the man began to explain, “All you have remaining before meeting the royal family is what is known as the ‘Trial of Dominance’. By getting this far, you’ve awoken the interest of the royal family already. When you leave, no matter what, you will be pulled into an interview and given a position matching what you can offer to the crown. Only one person can take the princely prize, after all.”

Gently pushing off the wall, he began to pace slowly, each step measured and deliberate as he crossed in front of the fire, casting the stairwell into darkness each time he passed in front of it. “You've proven yourself capable in each of the other trials. Survival is paramount, and though it was the main focus of the first floor, this trait has been tested throughout. After that, you proved your ability to inspire others to follow your will, whether it be through fear or respect. You are also fated for greatness within this kingdom, which is why you will have an exit interview… no matter what happens next.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face as he turned to look at her with a hint of respect in his eyes. “You are only one of twenty candidates who found the truly vile criminal from among those waiting for you and only one of five who did so intentionally. Because of this, you are speaking to me instead of someone with less authority in the kingdom. I think you will be seeing more of me in the future, as you will be a fantastic candidate for the dispensation of the king’s justice in whatever role you are given. I'm thinking… perhaps a judge or a lawmaker. Not an inquisitor nor… what I do.”

“Which is…?” The question slipped from her lips before she could stop herself, but luckily the man simply waved away her curiosity.

“I serve the crown as a Nunya.” His bland expression shifted into a flash of a smile before reverting, “That is: none ya’ business.”

“No~o,” Goldie groaned softly, though she greatly appreciated his attempt to lighten the tension in the air.

“As I was saying, this is the true test. Everything until now was simply preliminary. The fifth floor is filled with all of the candidates who have gotten here thus far, save those who’ve chosen to exit and claim a lesser prize than the prince.” The man spoke deliberately, choosing his words carefully as he stated, “The trial itself is simple. Merely reach the exit on the other side of the floor and go through it. There are no rules on how to achieve this. Blast a path forward on your own—if you can—or dominate the other contenders and force them to work under you. The only thing we want to know is if you have the power to rise above the rest, controlling or outmatching those around you.”

Goldie's heart sank at the information; she had no desire to play politics or try to fight every single person who’d managed to rise to this level of the tower. Her ribs ached terribly at the mere thought of diving into combat, seeing as every breath was already a struggle. “Yeah… I'm in no state to take control of an entire floor of the tower. Unless you're offering some healing before I go up there?”

“I am not.” His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “You are injured, which puts you at a disadvantage. Not as much as you might think, as almost no one who reached this point did so without some form of sacrifice. What is truly setting you apart from the others is how much time they've had to rest and recover. You might get an opportunity to do the same, or you might not. It depends on how quickly the game reaches its end state. On that note…”

He gestured at the stairs, and she followed the motion with her eyes. When Goldie looked back, the man was gone. “Really? Why is every powerful person so… dramatic?”

Slowly hobbling up the stairs, Goldie approached a blank, featureless wall that spun to the side just enough to allow her to pass. The sight greeting her on the other side stopped her in her tracks: the thief found herself standing in a perfect replica of the slums. It was unsettlingly familiar. She recognized the layout, the narrow and winding alleys, and the clusters of haphazardly arranged buildings.

 It was perfect to the last detail, including the damp, sour smell of refuse clinging in the air. “That building even has the scorch mark from when one of their kids accidentally knocked a lamp over. Is this an illusion, or am I actually back in the western quarter of the slums?”

Stepping through, allowing the door to silently swing shut behind her, Goldie realized this place couldn't be her actual home, no matter how much her senses declared that it must be. There was no murmur of voices in the distance, no one sleeping out in the streets or hawking wares. Instead, there was only a handful of women standing around staring at her. Goldie ducked backward, expecting weapons to be drawn and thrust in her direction. As she settled into the best fighting stance she could manage, wincing all the while, her mind slowly caught up to the fact that she was not under attack. 

Instead, the handful of women were simply looking at her with amused expressions, though there was an underlying understanding in their gazes. A tall noblewoman with the bearing of a soldier inched forward, speaking in a clipped tone. “You're new here, so we'll make this simple. No one's going to attack you unless you make a nuisance of yourself. Some of us have been here for nearly a week, and this place gets old fast. No one wants to have to constantly keep their guard up. Besides that, look at yourself. You're not winning this competition. Each of us is here representing our group leader, and anyone who comes through is given an offer to join up under them for benefits in the future.”

Goldie looked at the woman in consternation. “How have you been here a week? This has only been open-”

“To the public for about four days,” came the instant reply. “No one expected it to get this full of… others.”

“Basically, join one of us and get some guaranteed protection, a safe place to sleep, or try and get through here on your own,” another lady chimed in, her eyes flickering over Goldie's battered form, lingering on the mess of blood around the hole in her shirt. “Looks like you've got some kind of slow regeneration along with whatever’s going on with your hair. That's not going to be enough to make it through here. There's a warded metal gate between us and the exit. Regeneration isn't going to give you the power to smash through it.”

Another lady, wiry and bubbly, stepped forward and spoke with warm sweetness, “Why don't you come with me for a while and see what we're talking about? My faction has food, shelter, and we're following a duchess. She has Legendary combat abilities and is the most likely to succeed. If you become her follower now, before she’s queen… I don't want to say becoming a low noble is a guarantee, but-”

“She would fry this citizen to a crisp before giving her some kind of noble title.” The first of the women to have spoken snorted. “Look at her! She's pretty enough, but might as well be a slum dweller, as far as Brigitta cares. She thinks anyone with skills under the Epic rank should be used for little more than hard labor.”

“That's Herzogin Brigitta to you, ya filthy, musclebound thug!” The false sweetness faded instantly, and the woman snarled as she realized she’d given away her true personality. “I mean-”

“Thank you all for your offers.” Goldie spoke lightly, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. She sketched out a painful curtsy, not even trying to hide how much it hurt to do so. “I will absolutely keep them in mind, but I'd like to go take a look at the lay of the land before I make a decision. Could I please inquire after the names of the candidates you are representing?”

Their expressions darkened, but before anyone could respond, another voice cut in—one of the five who hadn’t yet spoken. “Oh, just let her go. She's in no condition to be a real contender. Besides, even if she managed to open the path, she'd just be handing victory to one of us. Get out of here… but I recommend not taking too long to decide to whom you’re going to offer your loyalty. When the game is over, having not made a decision will be the same as having declared for one of the losers.”

Laughter rippled through the cramped area, and Goldie forced herself to nod deeply at each of them before turning stiffly and beginning to make her way through the slums.