《When Heroes Die》


 Prologue

    "Six. If you find a strange person in a Villain''s Lair trapped inside a ritual circle, don''t help them to escape. Yes, even if they promise to have your children."


    ¨C ''Two Hundred Heroic Axioms'', author unknown


    <hr>


    Unease filled him as he took in the sight that had just flared up on the horizon. Far ahead to the left of him and just off the dirt road, in the shadow of a small hill jutting out in the grassy plains, flashes of particoloured light lit up the late afternoon sky. It was distant enough that he could not make out the source from where he was, only just falling short of the horizon, but still, it could only really have come about in one way.Mage combat, he thought to himself warily.


    Olivier had been on the road for some time now, selling enchanted wares and keeping his eyes open for wayward gifted in need of support, long enough that he had started upon the journey home to Beaumarais. He was on the return stretch to the small town, although the mountains and valleys that surrounded his home were still beyond the horizon. This trip had been an exciting one, and although he had found no more gifted during it, people had been enamoured with the wares he had to sell.


    He had ventured farther afield than usual, but the sights he had seen had been worth the extended journey. He gently tugged on the reins of his mules from further back on his wagon, they brayed at him sullenly, tossing their heads of brown hair back and forth, then slowly drew to a stop. The cool autumn sun bore down upon them, the sky cloudless far above, and he waited several heartbeats for the sight up ahead - whatever it was - to finally draw to a close.


    Suddenly, seemingly out of nothing, tall solid structures of metal and glass sprouted from the earth. They grew and grew and grew, the surrounding terrain almost seeming to melt like cheese over a fire to compensate. The plains grass vanished into the earth, and the knoll which had been present had since flattened out. The towers, for what else could they be, seemed almost to reach up and touch the sky.


    Looking on, he was reminded once again of his argument with Morgaine in the past. The moment when he had realized that if she had wanted to kill him, there was nothing he could have done about it and the shame he had felt then at the time. For but a moment then, he had understood what regular folk felt about magic.


    Olivier knew magic and had some understanding of what could be done with it. He had, after all, grown up in a family of mages even if he had no magic of his own. This ¡ª whatever it was ¡ª defied his understanding of it. Was this some new grand Praesi ritual being tested, out in the middle of nowhere, stuck in transit between two towns? He licked his lips nervously and considered what he should do.


    It made sense, he thought, for him to turn back now and carry news of this to the last town he had passed through. It was only two days past at his current pace, but then again, what could he even tell them? That a city made of pure fantasy had grown in the middle of nowhere? He would be laughed out of town for sure. No, better that he wait a bit longer for the spell to draw to a close before he acted.


    He had his mules pull the wagon to the side of the road, allowing them to feed on the grass while he waited, continuing to watch the working unfold. Whatever it was and whoever it was that had made it, it truly took his breath away. To do all of this with a single spell, he doubted even the vaunted Praesi Warlocks could achieve something of this scale. That left him wondering about who exactly was responsible and why they had seemingly transmuted large portions of an open plain into what was quickly becoming clear was a city. It unsettled him how quiet the working was, for something of such scale to make seemingly no noise at all, it was like trying to imagine a dragon sneaking up on you. Utterly preposterous.


    Half a bell later, it seemed that the working had drawn to a close. He had, in the interval, talked himself into approaching. Shouldn''t he, after all, learn more about it before he carried the news? Guiltily, he acknowledged to himself that secretly this was not the real reason he approached, no, it was more about the thrill of it. Sorcery of this scale was something extraordinarily rare and, despite how he had expected someone else to show up and notice it, he was still the only person on the road. So he would approach carefully and learn as much as he could, then carry news of it with him to Beaumarais when he returned. Magistrate Alisanne Lassier, he decided, could be the one responsible for deciding what to do from there.


    He clicked his tongue twice, signalling to the mules that, once again, it was time to continue. They eyed him balefully, then, with great sufferance, began to pull his wagon. He stuck to the road for now, allowing himself to be drawn in closer, without having to dismount and approach on foot. The plodding of hooves, the gentle rumble of the wagon beneath him, and the waning light of the sun against the back of his neck all served to distract him from his good sense. That way, before he decided to be smart here and turn tail, leaving before learning more. Absently, he reached to one of the packs beside him, pulling out some jerky to chew on. The marvel of magic drew inexorably closer, and finally, they pulled as close as they could whilst still following the road.


    Once again, he signalled for the mules to stop, then, climbing down, the soles of his worn leather boots sent up a small cloud of dust as they made contact with the ground. His legs were unsteady for spending too long on the wagon, and so he took a moment to stretch. Then, finally ready, he prepared himself for the short hike off-road. He picked up one of his water skins and grabbed one of the decorated torch staves on the wagon he intended to sell. It wasn''t intended for use as a walking stick but was enspelled to keep the flame on the end burning in exotic colours, making for a somewhat extravagant light source. There weren''t any trees nearby for him to pilfer any branches, however, so it would have to do. It would serve, regardless, its only duty to poke around in the grass up ahead as he moved, alerting him to the presence of any snakes, before they became a more immediate problem.


    Step by step, he made his way towards the city, a bitter breeze occasionally pushing one of his curly locks into his eyes. The closer he drew, the more impressive it was to his eyes. Then, the grass came to an abrupt end and his boots thudded against a hard, smooth bronze beige surface. He paused and bent down, running his fingers along the grain. It was a novel material, something he hadn''t seen before, and looking at it brought his concerns to the fore.


    Was this the work of a demon? He wondered to himself. The very thought sent a shiver not related to the evening chill down his spine. Praesi Warlocks had a reputation for dabbling with demons among those not educated in magic. The reality was different, though, at least as he understood it. Only the maddest and most ambitious of diabolists risked bringing one of them into Creation. To his eye, this did not look like the aftermath of a demon incursion either, although admittedly he had no practical experience with them. The result was too¡­ inorganic, structured to the convenience of people. It did not look like a nightmare of mutated flesh that demons of corruption were famed for and although demons could certainly achieve an outcome like this, their frame of reference was too alien to conceive of it.


    His eye roved further, to his right, there was an ash-grey road paved out of another unknown material with a white line down the middle, between two of the bronze-beige paths, which were elevated just slightly in contrast. He wondered what the purpose of the distinction was; a footpath, maybe? Either way, the road beckoned him onwards, and cautiously he stepped onto it, deciding to follow it on the way in. Every so often, there were round metal disks buried in the road, as well as metal poles extending from the ground a few feet into the air like branches from a tree. He was puzzled as to their purpose.


    Then, he arrived. Even from a distance, the buildings had made him feel small, but standing directly under them, under these marvels of construction, fed into both his sense of adventure and his sense of caution. There was glass everywhere. Surely, not even the First Princes'' Palaces in Salia used glass this liberally? It was extravagant on a scale that defied his understanding.


    Standing at the base of one of the buildings, he noticed what seemed to be letters painted onto the surface of one of the windows in a language he didn''t recognize. He traced over one of the figures, a straight line that then curved to the right in a loop, ending at half the height of the symbol. He knew Lower Miezan, the language most commonly spoken in Praes, and had passing familiarity, in the sense that he had seen the written alphabet, for both Taghrebi and Mthethwa. This didn''t look like any of those. That should have reassured him, as it meant that whoever was responsible for this was unlikely to be one of the mad wizards from Praes. It didn''t.


    If it wasn''t the Praesi, then he had no idea who could achieve such a grand work of sorcery. The Dead King and the Titans maybe, although neither side had a motive. But who else? He didn''t know much about the Dwarves, aside from the fact that they were more or less the only nation on Calernia that wasn''t just a regional power. However, they weren''t renowned for extravagant magics, so he doubted they were responsible. The Fae, perhaps? That thought worried him, but upon further consideration, he doubted it was them. They had the power to achieve this but lacked the agency to pull it off. By their very nature, they were tied to stories, and he couldn''t conceive of a story tied to an event like this, except maybe the gnomes.


    He continued walking down the road, taking in the alien sights surrounding him as he mused. Why were there rows of metal loops connected to the ground perpendicular to the main road, on that slightly elevated section of roadway? Who could afford to just leave metal like that? How was a road designed that was so flat? And how did these towering monoliths stand as they did and not come crumbling to the ground? Surely, some of them stood taller than the tower in Ater? What kind of magic could create a place like this, and why do it at all, seemingly in the middle of nowhere? As he explored, the questions only piled up.


    He approached one of the buildings, looking through the glass to take in the interior. There were rows upon rows of shelving, made out of another material that he didn''t recognize. Absently, he reached for the door, only to find it had no handle, and he couldn''t figure out how to make it budge. Who made doors with metal frames and glass bodies anyhow?


    The more of this place he saw, the more he suspected that it wasn''t so much built as transplanted from elsewhere. The posters stuck to the outside of windows were what drew him to that conclusion. Pictures of people garbed in strange, foreign outfits. Clothing of the likes he had never seen before. The posters were far too¡­ Sterile, almost artificial in nature, seeming not to have been penned, painted, or drawn by hand at all. Many of them depicted strange machines, or in some cases people performing what looked to be magic. Either way, they were his best source of information on the place so far.


    The idea that someone, or several people, had teleported what had to be a substantial chunk of a city from somewhere else terrified him. Especially whilst leaving the occupants behind and just dropping it here somewhere on the outskirts of Bayeux. How would someone even go about achieving something like that? This was going to have ramifications very high up, he realized.


    It occurred to him, then, that he had at most another hour or two before the sun would set, and he would need to make his way back to his wagon. It was unlikely someone would steal from him. Anyone who saw the wagon would see the city as well and were they tempted to theft, the prospect of stealing from a place like this was far more tantalizing. Regardless, though, the idea of finding his way back to his wagon after the night had fallen did not appeal to him in the slightest. Making the most of what limited time he had left was important then, and that meant deciding what he needed to see.


    If this was a ritual, and it seemed to be one, he thought to himself, then the point of origin was likely the centre, which meant heading to the middle of the city. How a ritual on this scale could be accomplished, without leaving miles of countryside wasted by the desolation, he didn''t quite know. That was a riddle in and of itself. Still, if he wanted answers, finding the caster would be the best way to acquire them, which meant finding the eye of the spell. A little voice at the back of his head cautioned him that being in the presence of someone who could do this wasn''t the smartest idea, but he smothered it before it took root. When was he ever going to have the opportunity to see something like this again?


    Destination in mind, he started to walk, making his way towards the epicentre. As he did so, the haunting stillness of the place seeped into his bones. For a city like this to exist, how many people would need to occupy it, and walk its streets? The eerie feeling amplified the further he walked, it felt like he was striding over someone''s grave. As far as he could tell, he was drawing close to what he estimated was the source, a bit over a mile in from the edge. He reached the end of another one of the megastructures, the road coming to a four-way split, and turned left, expecting to find the cause.


    His breath caught, then stilled. Unlike the rest of the place, what he saw looked like it had been a part of the original countryside. A smooth, circular chunk of rock with a crack running through it from one side to the other, sitting untouched in the midst of a displaced city. On it, were runes writ in blood, spiralling inwards. They were detailed, intricate, almost certainly a ritual, and right in the middle was a girl, her back facing towards him, clad as she was on the day she was born.


    She was pale, hunched in on herself and, with the slow rise and fall of her chest, seemingly unconscious, with long curly black hair facing towards him. Her right arm lay on top of her and ended at the elbow in a stump. A mass of scars crisscrossed the girl''s back, and he hastily averted his eyes, contemplating on what to do.


    Disgust curled in his stomach as he considered what he had seen. It looked to him like she had been intended as ritual fodder, a human sacrifice, only the ritual had clearly gone wrong, and the circle was broken. He examined the runes again and then turned away, pacing restlessly, their shape fading from his mind the moment he did so. Maybe it had been a Praesi ritual then, with a Duni sacrifice, but one where the caster''s madness ended with their demise.


    Concern for her warred with concern for himself. He wasn''t sure what would happen if he stepped into the ritual circle. It was broken, or at least, he thought it was broken, so it shouldn''t do anything. But an entire city had appeared regardless of that, so clearly there was still something happening despite that. He didn''t know if stepping into it would cause a reaction again. Should he risk it? The breeze stilled as he thought over it, as if the world was taking a breath.


    No, he decided, he didn''t want to leave her fate up to chance, not when he could help. He would take the punishment on his own head if this decision ended poorly. Hesitantly, he stepped into the spell, careful not to disrupt any of the lines. The wind picked up again and he reaffirmed his decision. He would help her, he thought, surely it couldn''t go wrong. Tentatively, he moved closer, keeping his eyes averted, then tried to wake her. She didn''t even stir.


    Grimacing, he resolved to pick her up and carry her back to his wagon. Hopefully, she wouldn''t take offence at his presumption. Dropping the intricately carved length of yew, he made to pick her up. Right arm beneath her legs, the other supporting her back, he hoisted her up and started to make his way out. She was light, stick thin, and considering all her injuries, she hadn''t lived an easy life at all. Putting one foot after another, he made his way out of the city. He walked cautiously, a misstep now would have poor consequences.


    Arriving back at the wagon, he noted, to his mounting disbelief, that the road was still empty. True, this wasn''t a path travelled along much, but he still would have expected someoneto show up by now. He considered what to do next, she wouldn''t fit into his clothes, despite looking around his age, she was tall, having a few inches on him. Regardless, he doubted she would appreciate waking up and having someone else clothe her. No, he decided, better to wrap her in one of his cloaks, then figure out where to go from there whenever she finally stirred.


    Placing her down on the wagon leaning against one of his packs and firewood, he considered whether to stop here for the evening or continue on for the night. Usually, he would halt at around this time. His brother had called him unwise, travelling alone like this. He grimaced, the thought of his brother once again bringing unpleasant feelings to mind. They had not been on good terms for some time, and it still stung somewhat. He pushed the thought aside.


    Despite the turmoil in Procer at large, the civil war had not reached the sleepy parts of the outer edges of the Bayeux principality and, despite the dangers of travelling alone, he had not been bothered on the road. When he did eventually settle down, he would activate one of the alarm wards that his brother had enchanted. It would warn him if anything larger than a fox came within thirty feet by emitting a piercing shriek, which should, in theory, give him plenty of time to react.


    He decided, after some thought, to push on until the city was out of sight. He didn''t know if there was anything dangerous in it, but staying around to find out seemed like pushing fate. Better, he considered, to make some distance, before settling in for the night. The mules glared at him balefully in the pale evening light, but he was having none of it. They set off and soon, the only light illuminating the way forward was the pale light of the moon and stars above. Between the chirping of the crickets and croaking of frogs as dusk set in, he could almost pretend a semblance of normality.


    A few hours of travel later, the city was out of sight. Deciding they had gone far enough, he pulled some logs off the wagon and set them down in a haphazardly arranged ring of rocks. Tiredness had long since set in and, after cooking himself a stew with the little he happened to have on hand, he set up the wardstone and proceeded to doze off against a bag positioned against the wagon wheel.


    Waking up the next morning with a knife pressed against his neck came as a bit of a shock that, in retrospect, he should have expected. This, he thought wryly to himself, was not how he saw himself being greeted by the person he had tried to help out.

 Estrangement 1.00

    ¡°When waking up in an unknown bed, examine the environment before the people. If there are chains and bars, you can be sure they are villains and you are soon to be rescued. If there aren¡¯t, you will need to rescue yourself.¡±


    ¨C Eudokia the Oft-Abducted, Basilea of Nicae


    <hr>


    ¡°We¡¯re almost there, Theo, you¡¯re doing fine.¡±


    He was panting hard, the exertion of jogging with me still something he hadn¡¯t fully adapted to yet. It had taken some time, but he was almost there. It surprised me, none of the other Chicago Wards would have been willing to stick with me for my morning runs for so long, and yet, he was still pushing on.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ funny¡­¡± He began, then cut off.


    ¡°What¡¯s funny?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Three months running, and I¡¯m still holding you back.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ve told you before, it¡¯s fine. If you weren¡¯t willing to do this, I would be stuck on a treadmill instead.¡±


    I felt him flagging with my swarm, and I slowed myself down to match. We had, after all this time, got ourselves into somewhat of a routine. The shadow of the Sears Tower loomed ahead of us and, once again, we pulled in closer to the buildings on our left. We were avoiding another cyclist who seemed to take it as a given that we would be the ones to move out of his way. I eyed the rows of unmanned bicycles parked to our right, thoughts of Brockton Bay once again flashing wistfully through my mind.


    ¡°You miss it too, don¡¯t you?¡± Theo asked quietly, coming to a stop.


    ¡°Miss what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The Bay,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Nothing more needed to be said, really. Despite the many months I had spent here, Chicago still didn¡¯t feel like home. It was too large, too busy. People were awake at all hours, and there was never a time when they weren¡¯t getting in my way. No matter how early it was that I woke up, there would always be somebody else doing something. I could never have the city of Chicago to myself, not in the way I could claim a piece of Brockton Bay.


    ¡°You ready to keep going?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± he agreed.


    We picked up our pace again, starting the beginning of our return trip. The better Theo became at keeping up with me, the longer we ran to compensate. Another week or so like this, and he would be matching the pace I wanted to set.


    <hr>


    The scratchy feeling of something hairy against my skin was the first thing I felt upon waking up. Next, came the odour. Pungent, oily, the smell of unwashed bodies. I wrinkled my nose. It must have been a prank of some sort, but for a prank, this was really going too far. I would need to tell Grace this was¡­


    Memories started coming back to me, flashes of experience. The fight with Jack, Scion¡¯s rampage, the end of the world. The fight on the oil rig, Eidolon¡¯s death. Running through empty metal corridors, trying to find something, anything that could give us an edge. And then, the step off into the abyss. I remembered.


    The world, no all the worlds, viewed from an omniscient perspective.


    I remembered me, gradually slipping, losing myself. First my control over myself, then the ability to recognize faces, then names, then body language. Bit by bit, piece by piece, I had gradually fallen apart.


    A memory came back to me. The aftermath, mere moments after Scion had died. Me standing there and watching a crowd celebrate, unable to see it as anything more than a threat display. I choked back a sob.


    There was more, though. It didn¡¯t simply end there.


    Being confronted by the Faerie Queen and stepping through a portal. Then there on the other side, a woman in a white dress shirt and suit pants. Contessa. We had talked then. Somehow, I had still understood her, and she had asked me a question, then, she had offered me a choice. A final look at the night sky, before the welcoming darkness. So why, then, was I awake?


    This hadn¡¯t been the choice that I made.


    The chirping of a sparrow broke me out of my thoughts.


    My back was cramped and my throat parched. Whatever I was lying against made for a poor pillow. I reached up to clear out my eyes, then realized my arm ended in a stump. Awkwardly, I reached with my other arm, then stiffened.


    Vaguely, I had the sense there was somebody else nearby.


    I opened my eyes. I blinked rapidly, the harsh light of dawn cutting into them, and waited for them to adjust.


    At first, I wasn¡¯t sure exactly what they were taking in. I seemed to be on the back of a wagon, on a dirt road, out in the middle of nowhere. The wagon was hitched to what seemed to be two brown mules. The back half, where I was, was under a shaded roof. The front was exposed to the sky above.


    My vision roamed further, taking in my surroundings. It was blurry fields of grass as far as the eye could see. A few lonely trees dotted the landscape, breaking up what would otherwise be an almost featureless view.


    Where was I? This didn¡¯t look like any place I knew.


    The aches I felt were from resting against a stack of cut logs that were stacked to one side. Opposite me, there was a random assortment of goods that looked like it belonged at a flea market. I was wrapped in what appeared to be a scratchy cloak, but was otherwise completely nude. I felt a sliver of fear lodge itself deep in my chest.


    Had something been done to me while I was asleep?


    Almost absently, I reached towards my swarm, then realized to my dismay that it wasn¡¯t there.


    After a bit of thought, I realized that it didn¡¯t surprise me, although it still stung. I figured I should be dead, not having my power was the least startling part about this. So why was I alive?


    That, more than anything else, made the reality of my situation start to set in. I clamped down on my emotions as best as I could, but found my leg twitching nervously. Frustrated at my inability to maintain control of myself, I changed my focus, looking for something I could use to defend myself.


    Almost absently, I reached down to my side for the nanothorn. Then I realized, once again, that not only was there no nanothorn, I also had no right arm.


    Right, Taylor.


    I looked more critically over the paraphernalia and spotted what seemed to be a dagger, buried inside a sheath.


    I moved across on my hand and legs, careful not to make a noise. The damp chill of morning dew was clammy beneath my palm, the cold biting into my skin. The shuffling felt awkward like this, my balance was off. After grabbing the hilt, I fumbled with it a bit, trying to pull it out. My frustration mounted.


    Come on, Taylor, you can do this.


    I hated how vulnerable I felt, how I couldn¡¯t distract myself by burying my attention in my swarm. It had been so long, I had forgotten what it felt like to not have my power at all.


    Finally successful, I examined my find. It was broad at the base and about the length of my forearm. For some reason, the person who made it didn¡¯t fashion upon it a guard. Unfortunately, that meant if I wasn¡¯t careful and my hand slipped, I would be down a couple more fingers and regretting what happened. Upon looking closer, I guessed it to be made of steel, although the make seemed to be poor.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    I wasn¡¯t left-handed, and that was the only hand I had remaining. That meant when handling the dagger, I would need to be more cautious than usual.


    I gave the collection of junk a second look, hoping to find something better. I couldn¡¯t seem to find an alternative. Looking at it, I grimaced.


    It will have to do.


    I climbed to my feet. The wagon creaked, I stilled. With a better vantage point, I could now see down below, directly over the sides. To the left of the wagon, was a small circle of stones surrounding the dying embers of a fire. Just making their way into my field of vision, two legs clad in leather jutted out, from near where I imagined the front wheels were.


    Carefully, I made my way to the front of the wagon. One of the mules turned and looked at me, I eyed it warily. It snorted, dismissing me, then turned away again.


    Gripping the hilt of the dagger tightly, I slowly, hesitantly lowered myself to the ground. Then, I made my way towards the man.


    My first impression of him did much to soothe my concerns. He was short, much shorter than me, and had a mop of long, curly brown hair adorning the top of his head. His face was tanned, handsome, in a somewhat effeminate way. Despite his height, I suspected him and I were about the same age.


    He was clad in leather from top to bottom, with a somewhat rugged looking coat covering what seemed to be a chain vest. That, more than anything else, threw me off.


    I remembered, when I had controlled Clairvoyant, the view of all the many versions of Earth that there were. Not all of them had been as developed as Aleph and Bet. There was a possibility I was stuck on a less developed world. A world that was perhaps hundreds of years in the past. I hoped, as unlikely that it was, that he was simply Amish rather than the alternative.


    It was hard to tell past the armour, but he didn¡¯t look muscled, and I suspected violence was not something he was well accustomed to. With his head resting against the wheel and drool trailing down the side of his mouth, he wasn¡¯t particularly intimidating. I didn¡¯t really want to consider what he had planned for me, but I thought that, despite my missing arm, if it came down to it, I could probably still win the fight.


    Now to wake him up, I¡¯d put the point if the dagger right beside his neck, then give him a shake. I¡¯d need to straddle him to prevent him from simply overpowering me, but -


    <hr>


    ¡°You never learned to ask for help when you needed it,¡± Tattletale said.  Her voice was almost accusatory.  ¡°I mean, you ask when you approach other groups, and it¡¯s like you¡¯re holding a gun to their heads as you ask, or you ask at a time when it¡¯s hard for them to say no, because all hell¡¯s about to break loose.¡±


    <hr>


    A flash of memory, an ugly feeling settled in my gut. I shook my head. No, this was different. I was alone, I had no power. If it turned out the man was hostile, and I hadn¡¯t taken the initiative, there wasn¡¯t really any way I could recover here.


    <hr>


    ¡°I keep on asking myself the same questions over and over again,¡± she said.  ¡°Maybe you can answer.  Was it worth it?¡°


    I stared down at my hand.  It was shaking, but it wasn¡¯t from fear.


    ¡°Would you do it all over again?  Knowing what you know now?  Knowing that you end up here, at gunpoint?¡°


    ¡°I¡­ know I¡¯m supposed to say yes,¡± the words made their way past my lips.  ¡°But no.  Some-somewhere along way, it became no.¡±


    ¡°Just about everyone comes to this crossroad,¡± she said.  ¡°Some get seventy years, some only get fifteen.  Enough time to grow, to take stock of who you are.  Enough time to do things you¡¯ll regret when you run out of time.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t- don¡¯t regret it.  Was- had to.  Saved lives.  But I would do different, given a chance.¡±


    <hr>


    Another memory, another stab of guilt. I stopped, halted my train of thought. Then, I started to consider.


    This wasn¡¯t an opportunity to do it all over again, at least, I didn¡¯t think so. There was no Scion to kill, no world to save. Either by luck, happenstance, or Cauldron intervention, I was somehow still alive. That didn¡¯t mean, however, that I shouldn¡¯t treat it that way.


    If I keep making the same mistakes, I will only pile up more of the same regrets.


    So I stopped, breathed in and started to consider. The world seemed to still as I did so.


    A girl wakes up naked, alone in a wagon belonging to an unknown boy. From the outside, what did the situation look like? To me, it sent all kinds of warnings. In my time with the wards, I had had with criminals of all types, and not all of them were thieves and murderers. I forced myself to look for another explanation, though.


    How did the girl get there?


    Say the boy was a traveller. He was on the road, heading to his destination, and then he found her, unconscious, stranded somewhere along the road.


    He could be well-intentioned, realizing that I was probably in trouble, he could have decided to help. If he found me in such a vulnerable state and wasn¡¯t able to wake me up, it might have been the best choice.


    Alternatively, he could have darker intentions for me.


    How did I wake up?


    I wasn¡¯t bound, and I didn¡¯t think I had been touched in any way. If he had been planning to take advantage of me, he certainly didn¡¯t plan well. He had slept on the ground, leaning against the wheel of the wagon, and left the wagon itself to me. That couldn¡¯t have been comfortable. All of those actions spoke in favour of the other option, that of the well-meaning traveller.


    The question burning in my mind was whether to wake him up gently, or wake him up at the point of a knife. If he wasn¡¯t friendly, and I woke him up without the threat, his armour would make ensuring my safety much, much harder. I mulled it over for a moment.


    Or I could just leave.


    That was an option, but I didn¡¯t think it was a good one. I didn¡¯t know where I was. I didn¡¯t even know when I was. The chances were, the boy did. Either way, it seemed like talking to the unknown kid was my best bet.


    Waking him up at the point of a knife when his intentions had been noble would cost me goodwill. Goodwill, on the other hand, was something I could earn back. I could apologize if that was the case, but it was the safe play.


    Alternatively, I could wake him up without the implied threat.


    If I was wrong in my read of him, if he was actually hostile, I would be giving away my only advantage for the chance to make a good first impression.


    I frowned. I didn¡¯t like the conclusion I had come to.


    Doing better meant making different choices. It seemed like, on reflection, I had just talked myself into making the same choice. On the other hand, not every choice I made, was a choice that I regretted. If he wasn¡¯t trying to take advantage of me, if he was genuinely a good person, I would do my best to make this up to him.


    My resolve reaffirmed, I decided to act.


    First, I reached up, careful not to poke myself with the knife and unpinned the cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground. With what I was about to try, I couldn¡¯t risk myself getting caught in it, and trying to pin the buy down was chancy enough with only one hand.


    Then, I moved.


    Straddling him to pin him down, I positioned the knife close to his neck, but far enough away so that he wouldn¡¯t accidentally cut himself on waking up. He stirred. I raised my stump and tapped his head with it, finally waking him up.


    He blinked, the drowsiness quickly fading from his eyes.


    ¡°Who are you and what were you going to do with me?¡± I asked, pushing the knife in closer.


    He opened his mouth and began to speak. And then, an ugly problem reared its head. One that I hadn¡¯t considered, but really should have. I didn¡¯t understand a word that he said.


    It was funny, really. The idea that I wasn¡¯t on Earth Bet had occurred to me, it seemed likely, even. The idea that the person I was planning to interrogate wouldn¡¯t speak English, however, had not. Now, we were at somewhat of an impasse. We couldn¡¯t really negotiate, because we had no way to talk, and I had already gone and made a poor first impression.


    Great work, Taylor.


    His caramel eyes, I noted, were averted and his cheeks had a reddish tinge to them. What had him embarrassed? It wasn¡¯t like I had breasts.


    The braying of one of the mules interrupted my thoughts.


    Do better, don¡¯t make the same mistakes.


    I decided, then, to give him a chance. I had probably got off on the wrong foot and made a mess of this, and that was entirely my own fault. Something told me, though, that even now, he didn¡¯t mean me any harm. Slowly, I lowered the knife and placed it on the ground, then, picking up the cloak, I stood up and backed away, covering myself in the process.


    Picking up the knife and moving slowly towards the cart, he found the sheath and put it away. Awkwardly, I followed behind. He turned around then.


    Now, how to proceed?


    ¡°Taylor,¡± I said, pointing to myself with my index finder. Then, pointing at him, I waited.


    ¡°Olivier,¡± he replied, with a tone that came across as half amused.


    Now to determine if that was his name, or something else.


    ¡°Male, Female,¡± I continued, pointing at him first, then myself. He did the same in turn, using two words I didn¡¯t recognize.


    Great, now hopefully, sometime today, we can have all of this figured out.


    Slowly, we continued. Mule, wagon, knife, cloak. Each time, I made the effort to commit each word to memory. Ten minutes in and my stomach rumbled, my hunger making itself known. Both of us paused, then he pointed at the wagon, enunciated a few words and proceeded to point at the ashes between the stones. From context, I realized he wanted to pause and cook something to eat. I nodded.


    Sitting and waiting on the side while he cooked left me feeling restless. I tried to offer to help, but after the third time of him turning a stern eye in my direction, I decided to leave him be. I wasn¡¯t used to feeling useless like this, and it frustrated me.


    He looked my way again and his face softened. Then, he started to talk again, pointing to objects as he worked. I gave him a small smile in thanks, relieved to have a task I could focus on.


    Point, speak, repeat. You can do this, Taylor. If I kept telling myself that, then maybe I would start to believe that everything was fine.

 Estrangement 1.01

    ¡°Wisdom is the anticipation of consequences. That¡¯s why whenever I burn the enemy¡¯s fields, I make sure to salt the ground.¡±


    ¨C Dread Emperor Terribilis I, the Thorough


    <hr>


    We had been on the road for five days now. Communications were still a problem. On the first day, we had stopped in a small town. Once there, Olivier had helped me negotiate for some ill-fitting clothes.


    That stopover had convinced me that the Earth I was on was one stuck sometime in the past.


    Dirt roads, ramshackle buildings and the pervasive smell of shit was enough to sell me on the idea that I wasn¡¯t going to be seeing a city like Chicago again soon. Actually internalizing that was likely to take some time.


    Since then, we had passed through some larger hamlets on the way to our destination. It was, according to Olivier, a town called Beaumarais. When I had asked him why he was going out of his way to help me, he had grown frustrated trying to explain it. It had something to do with the condition in which he had found me. He didn¡¯t have the right words to explain why.


    Being stuck in a place where I didn¡¯t speak the local language had instilled an ugly sense of loneliness in me that I hadn¡¯t felt since Winslow.


    Either way, I had decided to place my trust in him. He had an easy-going nature that made it hard not to like him. I had learned a little about him, as we journeyed on. As far as I could tell, he worked as a peddler of some kind. He travelled around and sold goods in the many small villages that littered the countryside. He was also fortunately literate and had taken to teaching me the written word using handwritten texts in his possession.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what I was going to do now.


    For years, I had had the end of the world as something to work towards averting. Nothing I did now would ever compare to that in importance. In a sense, it felt to me like my life was already over, and now I could have some peace.


    It was both stifling and liberating at the same time.


    Being stuck in a place still hundreds of years behind Earth Bet with one arm, left me feeling even more lost. I wasn¡¯t sure what job prospects I even had. At least this world didn¡¯t seem to have as strongly engrained gender stereotypes as I would have expected it to. That was one relief I hadn¡¯t been counting on.


    Perhaps, I could work as some kind of teacher or scribe.


    Unfortunately, that would rely on me having time to learn the local language, both written and spoken, in much greater detail.


    The countryside gradually became more rugged as we journeyed onwards. We were no longer surrounded by featureless plains. Small hills and valleys were the norm now. They were coated in green, and looming in the distance were much larger mountains. The roads were much busier here, and we were no longer the lone travellers on the country path. I wondered what it was that made this place more lively.


    The closer we came to arriving, the glummer Olivier seemed to become. His shoulders seemed to hunch in on themselves, and his responses to questions became more terse. I wondered what it was about his home that caused that kind of reaction.


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± I asked, in broken Chantant.


    There was a pause before he responded.


    ¡°No, I just don¡¯t like being home.¡±


    Water vapour frosted the cool morning air as he spoke. Each day we travelled, the sun rose just a little later. Winter was on its way.


    ¡°Can you tell me why?¡±


    He turned his head my way and glowered. ¡°It¡¯s a family matter.¡±


    I felt my face flush and I turned away.


    Of course, whatever problem he has at home is private, Taylor. Think.


    I was about to try apologizing, when he started to talk again. ¡°I¡¯ve been fighting with my brother about a girl.¡±


    That was my interpretation of what he said. It was spoken in Chantant.


    It took a few tries explaining for him to get his meaning across. The actual wording was more flowery. It was something about their connection being bruised. Olivier had a way of talking around topics without ever stating what he meant directly. It both amused and frustrated me at the same time. It meant I was receiving a crash course on the local metaphors, but each sentence took minutes of explanation to deconstruct.


    The meaning was still the same.


    A gnawing feeling of guilt welled up in my chest at the thought of his issues at home. A reminder that I hadn¡¯t properly said goodbye to my dad. A reminder of how I had left matters unfinished with Brian. Before I had even realized what I was saying, I had begun to talk.


    ¡°You should try to talk it out with your brother,¡± I told him quietly.


    He looked like he was about to argue. Then he paused, examining my face carefully.


    ¡°My mother died when I was young. Several years later, I did some things that made a bad break between me and my dad. We never managed to fix our -¡± I cut off, not knowing the right word. Frustrated, I tried to come up with an alternative.


    ¡°Relationship,¡± he added sombrely.


    ¡°We never managed to fix our relationship before I ended up here. You never know when things will end, so it is better to try to mend them early.¡± I finished, stumbling through my speech in half mangled sentences. I hoped I managed to convey my meaning properly.


    He remained still for a moment, then nodded his head. ¡°I will think on it.¡± The matter was left there.


    The journey continued. The rattling of the wheels on the uneven ground and the plodding of the mules being the only sounds to break up the silence. It was restful in a way that I hadn¡¯t truly expected it to be. Time continued to pass. The sun reached its zenith, then started to wane. We came to a stop. We halted in the shade of a gnarled tree, its canopy shielding us from the light.


    Olivier unharnessed the mules, giving them a chance to rest. I helped bring out the tools to cook our meals, although I wasn¡¯t much involved in the process itself. I had tried to help once, two days before. After tasting what I had made, the glare he had sent my way had convinced me to drop the matter entirely.


    Apparently, he didn¡¯t believe I could cook properly. Having had to cook for myself for years, I felt somewhat affronted by this. We didn¡¯t have any proper ingredients around, so I couldn¡¯t prove him wrong.


    ¡°What did you do?¡± He asked me in patchwork English.


    He had been making the effort to learn it as well. When I had asked him why, it was apparently because he liked to learn, it didn¡¯t really matter how useful what he was learning was.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I replied.


    ¡°What work did you do?¡± He elaborated.


    This was the first time he was asking me a question about my life before he met me. I thought for a moment about how to answer it.


    How do I even translate law enforcement?


    Talking about powers was out of the question. I didn¡¯t have the right words to explain them and even if I did, I didn¡¯t think it was a smart idea. How would I even explain something like the unwritten rules or the reasons not to unmask capes to someone living in a society so different to my own?


    Even if I wanted to tell him about powers, I could no longer demonstrate my own. No, better to leave powers out of it entirely. After some consideration, I found something that I thought would work.


    ¡°I was paid to use tools like this dagger to stop people from cutting others,¡± I explained, pointing towards the dagger in question.


    He nodded, as if he expected the answer. Then he said a word I didn¡¯t recognize. Soldier or guard, I guessed. Considering all of my scarring, it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if he had guessed something like that already.


    ¡°Tell me about some of the fights you fought.¡±


    I grimaced, thinking about which ones I could talk about without making them sound implausible. Noticing that I seemed to be unhappy with the topic, he changed it.


    ¡°What was your home like?¡±


    This was a much safer topic. He had struggled to explain where he had found me, although it had sounded like part of a modern city. I had no idea how it was transported to this world, but that was a question for later. However it happened, it made explaining what Brockton Bay was like much easier. And so I started to talk.


    It was nice to talk about the bay with someone who had absolutely no frame of reference. Someone who, when I described the sights on the boardwalk or gave little anecdotes about the best places to go to avoid trouble, had their face light up with interest. On Bet, it didn¡¯t matter who you talked about the Bay with, it was seen as an example of a herald of what was to come. A bell that was tolling the inevitable coming of the collapse.


    I didn¡¯t mention the portal to Gimel to Olivier. I wasn¡¯t even sure how to describe it. Although it was seen as an important milestone for our survival, I didn¡¯t feel like it was an important part of who we were as Brocktonites. Eventually, I trailed off wistfully. Clouds overhead blocked out the stars, and the fire was the only light we had to see by.


    ¡°How many people lived there?¡± He asked.


    I frowned. We had covered basic arithmetic already, although I didn¡¯t know the words for these numbers in Chantant. I picked up a stick. In the dirt on the ground, I scrawled three-hundred thousand and four-hundred thousand, respectively.


    ¡°Between this,¡± I pointed to the first number, ¡°and that,¡± and then I pointed to the second number.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°Is this one of the larger cities to exist where you came from?¡±


    ¡°Not really. It was one of the smaller cities where I lived,¡± I replied absently.


    Olivier went still at that, that topic of conversation dying there.


    ¡°That stone, what is it?¡± I asked, pointing to an engraved rock he was holding right before we went to sleep.


    Every night he performed the same series of actions. He would take it out and go through some sort of ritual. When dawn came, he would put it away again. I suspected it was a part of his religion. I didn¡¯t want to offend him and ask about something everyone was expected to know here. However, my curiosity had finally won out.


    He paused. His face scrunched up the way it did when I knew he was trying to think of a way to explain something to me. Then, he pointed about forty feet away, ¡°Walk there,¡± he instructed.


    ¡°Why?¡± I inquired, puzzled.


    ¡°It¡¯s easier to show you, than to talk.¡± He replied.


    Intrigued. I did so. He finished performing the same sequence of actions he always did, then he told me to move closer. Thirty feet away from the stone, it let out a shrill scream.


    What was that?


    I suppressed the urge to react, completely taken by surprise. Clearly it was an alarm of some sort, designed to warn if someone came too close. Was this some strange form of technology? Suddenly filled with questions, I began to interrogate him.


    The more he explained, the less it made sense. My first thought had been that they had some form of parallel technology to Bet. Unfortunately, the descriptions he used for how the stone functioned didn¡¯t seem to fit. It sounded more like magic than science to me. In my mind, that put it firmly in the realm of something made by tinkers.


    To my frustration, he admitted that making objects like the stone was a skill that could only be learned by people with the gift. I wasn¡¯t sure what that was. He didn¡¯t have this gift, although his brother did. If I wanted to learn more, I would need to speak with him. Eventually, I got the sense he wanted to drop the subject and put it off for later.


    ¡°There is always tomorrow,¡± he told me, amused.


    ¡°If you¡¯re worried about people, isn¡¯t it better if we take turns awake?¡± I asked.


    ¡°This part of Bayeux has been left alone by the civil war,¡± he replied dismissively. That wasn¡¯t as reassuring as he seemed to think it was.


    ¡°And you are sure we will be safe?¡± I was dubious.


    ¡°Nothing is going to go wrong,¡± he reaffirmed.


    Against my better judgement, I decided to trust his opinion on the matter.


    We turned in for the night. Him, asleep by the dying light of the fire once more, and me on the wagon. When I had asked why he chose not to sleep on the wagon, he informed me he preferred not to.


    I was awoken by the wail of a banshee.


    Enbringer attack?


    No, this wasn¡¯t Bet. It was the alarm, I realized.


    Struggling to come to my senses, I opened my eyes. Looking around for something to use, I spotted one of those fancy engraved poles that seemed to sell so well. I grabbed it just a few fingers short of the base. I didn¡¯t have time to fumble around with the sheath of the dagger in the dark if we were soon to be attacked, so it would have to do.


    Then I climbed to my feet. Stumbled my way to the front of the cart. Dismounted, then looked around, careful not to look directly at the remnants of the fire.


    Three figures approached. They dashed towards us with weapons drawn. Shortswords, by the looks of things. The one in the middle carried a torch in their other hand. Had that been different, I may have responded without immediately resorting to violence. Considering the circumstances, I couldn¡¯t afford to hesitate. Olivier was still coming to his senses and, as much as it stung, I was likely to need his help.


    My pole had longer reach, and I couldn¡¯t allow them to close. I swung from right to left, aiming for the leftmost figure. He was the shortest and the one I figured I was most likely able to do something about. I couldn¡¯t put much force behind the attack with only one arm.


    The figure paused. My attack went wide as a result. Then he closed in on me. As he approached, he said some words I didn¡¯t recognize to his companions. They laughed in response. Rather than moving in to support him, they stood back instead.


    Probably making sport of me, rather than taking me seriously.


    The idea grated on my nerves. Now that he was closer, I could see he was clad in a chain shirt of some kind. Hauberk, I thought vaguely. Both armed and armored. No wonder he considered me no more than a passing joke. Despair bubbled beneath the surface, but I shoved it down. I had plenty of experience with that.


    Behind me, I heard Olivier finally drawing his blade. I didn¡¯t believe it would help.


    The figure continued to close, then he jabbed. I pulled back and as I did so, Olivier moved in. The other two figures stopped spectating and started circling. This wasn¡¯t going to end well.


    The rightmost figure, a tall, broad shouldered man, swung from behind. He was just outside Olivier¡¯s line of sight, and I doubted he would react in time. Desperately, I swatted at his wrist with the pole. I hoped to deflect the strike. I missed. Instead, it collided with the blade. After penetrating part way, it found itself stuck.


    Choosing to see the outcome as an opportunity, I pulled hard, stumbling backwards in the process. I was hoping that the sword would come with me. Instead, the pole had slipped out of my grasp. I found myself with my back pressed against the wagon and empty-handed.


    The figure seized the rod and pulled. Olivier let out a cry and threw himself to the ground.


    What?


    Moments later, there was an understated whoomph. I found myself pushed hard against the wheel of the wagon. The three who were still standing had been thrown apart. Their weapons had been dropped in the process. Olivier climbed to his feet and I moved as well, making to claim one for myself.


    Picking it up by the hilt, I closed in on the tall one. He was struggling to his feet still, but I wouldn¡¯t give him a chance to recover. Putting aside any misgivings I might have, I rammed the blade deep in his throat. There was a slight gurgling as I made to pull it out. I let go hastily and threw myself to the side as I felt one of the figures approach from behind.


    I felt the whistle of air as the blade narrowly missed my head. Then I turned. Olivier and the first figure I had engaged with were fighting further back, both of them armed. The last assailant was focused on me and unlike the first, he was treating me like a real threat.


    I felt his body tense and another strike came my way. I dodged again. Right this time. They were slow and lumbering, relative to me. Whilst I could keep this up for some time, eventually I would flag or make a mistake. At that point he would land a strike.


    A jab this time, I pulled back once more. My heart was running a mile a minute, I tried to force myself to think. I needed a weapon, some way to hurt him. I tried strafing right in such a way so that I would end up near the sword again, but my foe caught on and was having none of it.


    Methodically, they pushed me back. They were trying to force me back against the wagon once more, where I wouldn¡¯t have space to move.


    I angled left, trying to move towards the fire pit. The hope was to make use of the coals as a distraction. They caught on and cut me off once more.


    Frustration welled up. If only I had my swarm.


    It seemed like people in this world had powers of some sort. It sounded like they had tinkers at least. So where was my power? The poison from hundreds of insects making my objections known would have rendered this group harmless. Even just the intimidation factor would have been enough.


    I felt a pressure inside of me, as if I was straining against a metaphoric wall. Angrily, I pushed. I felt something give.


    Suddenly, my enemy let out a whimper, followed by an agonized scream. The skin on his face bubbled, then seemed to melt like wax. Boils and pustules erupted, then his skin started to turn black, necrosis setting in. He dropped his sword, reaching up in confusion.


    I stared dumbly at the scene.


    That was a power, but not my power. I shook myself out of my reverie fast, pushing aside my surprise.


    Taking the opportunity, I dashed forward, picking up the blade. My foe collapsed to the ground. Not leaving the matter to chance regardless, I cut deep into his neck. I looked towards Olivier and saw their fight had stalled. Both of them had stopped and were staring. Pulling the sword out, I advanced.


    Now that they were outnumbered two to one, the figure turned around and ran. I was about to follow and cut him off when I felt Olivier¡¯s hand close upon my shoulder. He shook his head mutely.


    ¡°What if he comes back with more friends?¡± I asked, warily.


    ¡°There is no doubt he does have more friends, but he won¡¯t come back.¡± Olivier denied.


    ¡°Why is that?¡± I pressed, my lips forming a line.


    ¡°Because you were seen using the gift, and attacking someone with the gift when they know you are coming is a bad idea.¡±


    So people do have powers then, and they call it the gift.


    I considered insisting we chase after, but decided against it. Running around in the dark was an easy way to become lost. The temptation to ask about powers was also there, but I shoved it aside as well. I could find out more later, when the situation was less tense.


    We need to strip the corpses and leave, there¡¯s no telling what might¡­


    I noticed then that Olivier was shaking. His face pale in the dim light of the fire that still flickered but a few feet away. No matter, we didn¡¯t have time to slow right now, we needed to act fast. I opened my mouth, about to start pushing things forward, when the thought struck me. Don¡¯t make the same mistakes. I stopped, considering what I could see.


    Why is he like this?


    ¡°Is this your first time in a fight like this?¡± I asked quietly.


    He nodded stiffly, then shook his head. Gently, I reached towards him, taking the sword from his hands. He let me.


    ¡°It¡¯s my first time in a fight where someone-¡± He said a word and then drew his left thumb from one side of his throat to the other. Ah, first time seeing someone die in a confrontation like this.


    ¡°But not your first time in a fight?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯ve been threatened with death before.¡±


    ¡°It gets easier,¡± I told him, meaning what I said.


    He averted his eyes from me, I noted, as I said that. It seemed the thought bothered him.


    ¡°How do you live with it?¡±


    I considered the question. ¡°The first time I killed someone, what bothered me was the thought that I wasn¡¯t bothered by it.¡±


    ¡°How many people have you killed?¡± He asked.


    I looked at him searchingly. ¡°Do you really want to know?¡±


    He thought about it, then shook his head.


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯re a good person?¡± He whispered.


    I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to answer. I decided, given the circumstances, he was owed the truth. There was nothing stopping me from simply brushing him off or avoiding the question. The idea tempted me even. That was the path that had ended with me here, though, and I wanted to avoid walking it a second time.


    ¡°No,¡± I replied. ¡°But I think I would like to be.¡±


    He dropped the subject and started examining the corpses.


    ¡°Who are these people, should we expect another attack?¡± I inquired, not really expecting him to know. I had to mime a bit to get my point across.


    ¡°No, I already explained why,¡± he denied, then rolled one of the bodies over and pulled one of their cloaks off. Turning it around, he pointed to a section that have been cut off on the back.


    ¡°They were mercenaries, probably in the employ of Arsene, that seem to have deserted. Likely, they would have earned death regardless.¡±


    There were a couple of words there I couldn¡¯t make sense of, but with context I pieced together what he meant.


    ¡°So we won¡¯t find trouble for having killed them, then?¡±


    He pursed his lips. ¡°We will need to answer some questions some people will have. I don¡¯t expect there to be any problems, though.¡±


    Gingerly, he proceeded to strip down the corpses. He took anything of value, the armour included, and left them with just their clothes. Then, by unspoken agreement, the two of us hitched the mules once more. Half an hour later and we had departed, continuing on through the night. Just because he was assured they wouldn¡¯t return, didn¡¯t mean it was smart to stick around.

 Estrangement 1.02

    "When making new friends, always make sure to put your best foot forward. That way, the dawning look of surprise on their face is all the more satisfying when you slide in the knife."


    ¨C Dread Emperor Traitorous


    <hr>


    The days passed by as our journey continued. It didn''t take much suggesting on my part to convince him that it wasn''t safe for both of us to sleep after the fight. In the evenings, we took turns keeping watch.


    Conversation had become stiff since that night. Olivier still made the effort to help me learn the language, but it seemed almost perfunctory now. Where what had once been for a short time an easy camaraderie, there was now an open wound.


    I didn''t particularly blame him.


    It was easier to like someone when you only knew they killed people in abstract, than to like them when you saw it up close. I was tempted to try to bridge the divide, but I wasn''t sure a monster like me deserved to have friends.


    Still, having him avert his gaze when I looked his way or tense up when I moved stung more than I cared to admit.


    It had been nice to talk to someone without the baggage of who I was.


    I had tried learning more about powers here instead. It frustrated me. Every time I raised the topic, he deflected to something else. That, or he told me to wait until we reached Beaumarais. I guessed there was some sort of cultural taboo around the subject.


    We had just yesterday passed into the shadows of the mountains. We were passing through a valley. Despite what little I knew about nature as a city girl, the terrain here struck me as odd. The ground looked as if in the past there had been much more moisture present, almost as if It had been dried out. Half the trees we passed looked to be dead, and there was a great deal of detritus half buried in the soil.


    Another half hour passed.


    The landscape changed again. We found ourselves entering a sleepy valley with tall grass. The gentle babbling of water hinted towards the presence of a river, although it couldn''t be seen from where we were.


    "We are almost home." He told me.


    The sun had set an hour past but considering the proximity, Olivier had insisted we push on. The tooting of owls, croaking of frogs and general cries of other wildlife did much to distract me from my concerns.


    Twinkling in the distance, the lights from torches could finally be seen.


    "Beaumarais," Olivier said simply.


    He didn''t need to tell me any more. Despite the awkwardness that existed between us, I still smiled broadly.


    Now, to figure out what to do with my life from here.


    The smile faded. I had just been going along with Olivier up until now. I had been reacting, not thinking forward, and I didn''t know what to do. It was a new frustration. Somehow, when I was planning for the end of the world, I didn''t anticipate what would come after.


    "What do we do now?" I asked, bouncing my legs nervously. Irritated at myself, I stilled them.


    "First, we talk to Alisanne," he told me stiffly.


    "The Magistrate, right?" I inquired, butchering her title in the process.


    He made a sound of acknowledgement. After stopping the wagon under a roof seeming to have been set out for it and unharnessing the mules, he set off. I trailed behind. He walked with purpose towards one of the better looking buildings in the town. Then, he suddenly came to a halt. We were about thirty feet away at the time.


    "What''s wrong?"


    He didn''t reply.


    Out of the residence strolled a teen with similar features to Olivier. Broad shoulders, a short trimmed beard and a knife at his hip. He stood a finger or two taller than my guide and looked a year or two younger as well, but the resemblance was there. Likely a brother then. Also, likely the source of that family dispute.


    "You should resolve your differences with him," I murmured quietly.


    Not responding, he approached. I decided to stick with, matching my pace to his. Soon we were in talking distance.


    "Olivier," the younger brother spoke, smiling, "back so soon this year?"


    "Out so late, Roland?" Olivier spoke in response.


    Feeling lost and not really sure what to do, I kept quiet.


    "There''s no call for that face, brother," Roland said. "I was only having dinner with a dear friend. We share great hopes for the future of Beaumarais."


    What face? I frowned. Both of them were smiling, although the smiles looked forced. It frustrated me. Both of their voices were so frosty that it sounded like they were trading barbs. Deciding I had had enough of whatever this was, I spoke up.


    "Can you two fight over this later?"


    Both of them froze in surprise, then turned to face me.


    "Another one, brother?" Roland asked.


    "This is Taylor, brother. And yes, Taylor also has the gift." He said the latter part sourly, as if it gave him offence.


    Roland smiled at me affably, then spoke. I didn''t understand what he said.


    Olivier, amused, made my circumstances known. "She''s from very far away, brother, and is still learning the language."


    Roland''s smile soured at that. "Well, you will have a lot to learn then," he informed me.


    "Learn about what?" I asked, puzzled. It seemed that the two of them had decided something for me, without asking my input.


    "The gift, of course," Roland replied. His tone could have curdled milk.


    Some local equivalent to the Protectorate, then?


    It seemed strange to me, how powers were openly discussed like this as if identities didn''t matter. I knew though that I was the one displaced.


    Olivier frowned then. "This is my fault. She didn''t know she even had the gift until near the end of our journey, and I haven''t really talked about it with her. I left the teaching to you."


    "What did she do, start a fire?" Roland asked, bemused.


    "She rotted a man''s face off, which is why we are visiting Alisanne." Olivier replied bluntly.


    "The man was trying to kill me," I added somewhat defensively.


    Roland looked between me and Olivier then, his face queasy.


    "I think her home is something like Praes, they even have big towers." Olivier muttered to Roland under his breath.


    What''s that supposed to mean?


    "And you want me to take her in?" Roland replied, his face having paled.


    "There was nothing wrong with my home," I interjected, somewhat affronted.


    Both of them ignored me.


    "I found her in a-" Olivier let out a stream of words which I had heard before, but still didn''t have the context to properly parse. Roland''s gaze softened in understanding.


    Conversation continued, the initial awkwardness having faded away. Soon, Roland parted, heading elsewhere. The two of us continued towards our destination. As I approached the building, I felt an odd sense of foreboding. It was the same sense of foreboding I had felt when we had approached the seamstress over a week ago.


    Flanking the entrance were two men wearing simple uniforms. Servants, I suspected. The idea upset me, but right now I didn''t have the power to do anything about it.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    The servants took one look at Olivier, then opened the door.


    "Can I come in?" I asked.


    They took one look at Olivier. He indicated I was with him, and then they gave their assent. The eerie feeling faded away, and I walked through the door. We were led through the building by the servants quickly, not giving me the time to examine the place much. Soon, we arrived in what seemed to be a parlour.


    We were greeted there by a woman in austere white robes, seated at a table and sipping wine from a glass. She looked up as we entered. Absently, she flicked a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes, her features softening as she looked on Olivier. Then, she turned her attention to me, the grey of her irises sliding over my way. Her expression hardened. She dismissed me from her gaze.


    So this must be the girl Olivier and Roland are fighting over.


    "Olivier," she plastered a smile on her face. "Back early this year? And it seems someone else has-."


    I couldn''t follow the rest of her speech.


    My companion seemed startled for a moment. On the back foot, as if he didn''t expect what she said. Then, the conversation took off. They talked rapidly, back and forth. I was able to understand a word or two between everything else, but not even enough to pick up on context. Both of them seemed to be upset.


    Ten minutes later, and the argument started to die down.


    "I apologize, Taylor. It seems I have given-," Alisanne spoke a word, I figured it to be offence, based on the rest of what was said.


    "No offence was taken," I replied, puzzled.


    "Then we can move on to why you are here," she said.


    What proceeded was a long, drawn out retelling of my arrival. Olivier started by explaining the circumstances he had found me in. Much of it was still lost to me. Then, an explanation of the journey that followed. When Olivier started talking about the attack on our camp during the night, an argument almost started up again. Apparently, Alisanne thought him a fool for travelling alone.


    I couldn''t fault her for that.


    Arrangements would be made to send people to investigate my point of arrival, and a message would be sent to a place called Apenun. Provisionally, the two of us were in the clear.


    I couldn''t follow the full discussion, which frustrated me.


    Not long after that, and the two of us were ushered out.


    "Why is she in charge?" I asked Olivier quietly as we left. It was something that had bothered me upon meeting her. She was young, someone our age. Apparently, however, she was the authority within this town.


    "Her mother rules Apenun," he replied, as if that explained everything.


    In a sense, it did. I hadn''t really been thinking about what it meant to be living in a society like this. I had just been drifting along. It hadn''t occurred to me to ask about the system of governance. Was I in a monarchy, a republic, a commune, or some form of direct democracy? Considering Olivier seemed to take it as a given that leadership was inherited, I was leaning towards some sort of feudal system.


    That didn''t bode well for me.


    The people in charge had been bad enough when they didn''t believe it was their divine right to rule. I didn''t want to see how bad things could get with that added on.


    I needed to stop drifting and start thinking forward. Right now, I was alone in a new world. If I didn''t start taking action, the world would keep acting on me. Unfortunately, I didn''t know enough about where I was to make well-informed choices. I suspected I had a way to fix that, though.


    "Where are we heading next?"


    He gestured towards a rocky footpath heading up into the mountains.


    "Up there is a tower. You will be offered two meals a day and a place to stay, as well as some pay. You will also be taught to use the gift. In return, you will be expected to offer your gift in service to our shop and the local House of Light."


    It sounded almost like the Wards program. Whilst the idea of going back to school, or a version of it, didn''t really appeal to me, I could deal. It wasn''t the end of the world, after all. I did have some questions, though.


    "The House of Light?" I asked, puzzled.


    He looked at me as if I had grown a second head.


    "Where people go to-" he said a bunch of words I didn''t quite understand. After a bit of back and forth, I realized he meant the church.


    Organized religion, great.


    And it appeared that here, at least, they were the ones in charge.


    "Do you not have the House of Light where you come from?" The idea seemed to leave him scandalized.


    The closest thing I had ever seen to a god had gone on a genocidal rampage. In humanities hour of need, no angels had descended from heaven in order to offer us salvation. The Simurgh with an air gun didn''t really count. I wasn''t about to provide lip service or otherwise to imaginary beings that hadn''t even deigned to show up. Telling people that probably wouldn''t be the smartest idea, though.


    So I changed the topic of conversation back to that of the tower.


    "What will I be expected to do at the tower?"


    He shrugged. "Different people have different talents. It will depend on what you are good at. You will need to be taught first, before we could say for sure. Ideally, you will help produce more of the same wares."


    This was starting to sound less and less like powers as I understood them. People couldn''t be taught how to use powers. Innovating with a power was possible, but the basic functionality was always the same.


    Keep moving forward.


    Regardless of any doubts I might have, I didn''t see a better way to progress. I would need to learn about the world I was in, before I did something that would land me in trouble that I couldn''t escape.


    If I didn''t learn the rules, it was bound to happen eventually.


    "And will I be expected to fight at all?" I tapped my thigh nervously as I posed the question. Involving myself with the local law enforcement, without knowing if I approved of them, wasn''t a good idea.


    "You won''t be expected to fight unless the town is attacked," he explained. I got the sense from his tone that he meant if the town was engaged in war. That was an acceptable outcome, if discouraging. The idea that wars were frequent enough that they needed a specific exemption didn''t exactly appeal to me.


    "Is there anything else I need to worry about?"


    He paced back and forth, thinking before answering. "The people around here don''t like those with the gift. Don''t give them a reason for that."


    Ah, local stereotypes.


    "What do they have against us?"


    "If I start a fight, whoever I am fighting with can fight back. If you start a fight, they just lose." He tapped the knife at his belt to illustrate.


    Power dynamics, of course.


    We walked towards the tower. The sky was clear and the light of the stars above lit our path forward. Following treacherous footpaths, we passed through tall grass littered with red flowers as we left Alisanne''s home.


    Arriving, The structure was the tallest building I had seen since I first woke up in this world. Shaped like a cylinder, it stood just over four storeys tall. The top looked to be incomplete. There were tents outside. I was told they were vagrants.


    Once again, I asked to be invited inside. The sense of foreboding I felt at the threshold disappeared.


    After being let in, I was introduced to the other occupants. An older widower by the name of Maurice and his daughter Segoline were the first. They were the most pleasant. The next, Maxime Redflame, I took an immediate disliking to. Seated at a corner table on the bottom floor, he looked to be nursing a tankard of beer. He was a man who looked to be in his mid-forties. His  face, red and puffed due to an overconsumption of alcohol, was liberally decorated in scars.


    "Hey girlie, come on over here will you," he shouted enthusiastically and raised his tankard as I came into view. I ignored him, and he proceeded to make an obscene gesture as a result.


    Everyone, I noticed, was looking at the man with visible distaste.


    My opinions on the place were rapidly being revised downwards. Less of an equivalent to the Wards program or a school and more of a shared study group, if it could even be called that. I suppressed the urge to frown.


    Then the last two members of the tower showed up. Ludovic was the exact opposite of Maxime. A young man, but short and willowy. A strong breeze would blow him over. He was timid and seemed to hide in the shadow of Morgaine, the last member of the group. As they arrived, he kept his eyes on the ground.


    Morgaine, a woman who looked to be about twenty to twenty-five, was fair skinned and was dressed in a way that spoke to her being well off. She took one look at my missing arm and a flash of emotion seemed to cross her face, anger, I thought.


    That''s odd.


    "Another child who has been-" She went on a rant then, shouting at Olivier. She spoke too fast for me to follow properly. I caught a word or two on the side though and from context, I put together the picture that she thought my parents had abused me.


    Wait, what?


    "My parents did none of this to me, I was a soldier." I interjected. At least, that is what I think I said. I wasn''t entirely happy about using the word soldier. I didn''t know the word for hero, though. Even if I did, it wouldn''t carry the right cultural context.


    At that, Maxime wheezed. "All that anger for nothing, isn''t that funny, Morgaine?"


    Everyone turned to glare at him. He was unmoved.


    "So, what can you do, girl? All these people over here want to do is run a shop. Throwing balls of fire around doesn''t count, anyone can do that."


    Suddenly, the centre of attention shifted to me again. Uncomfortable, I began to respond.


    "I didn''t know I could do anything until we had almost arrived here. The two of us were attacked. I rotted the attacker''s face off," I explained.


    Maxime whistled, the others looked queasy.


    "This is a place to craft, not to fight," Olivier stated, sounding concerned.


    "If these people aren''t willing to teach you how to use your gift properly, then you can always come to me," Maxime said, winking at me. I shuddered.


    "That wasn''t why I came here," I assured Olivier.


    What went unsaid though was that I wasn''t against learning how to defend myself. I doubted that powers could be taught. It went against everything I knew about them. I wasn''t about to pass up the opportunity to learn if it was offered, though. As obnoxious as Maxime came across, I was willing to tolerate spending some time with him if it meant being able to fight. I just needed to be sure he was always in sight of one of the others as well. And sober.


    Olivier gave an abridged explanation of my circumstances to Morgaine, then left soon after. I was shown to a room where I could stay and told that my education would start on the next day. I was also shown a place where I could properly wash. After so long on the road, my hair was a tangled mess. I wasn''t sure if I would be able to fix it, but I would do my best.


    It wasn''t what I expected to be doing after the end of the world, but at least it was a start.

 Estrangement 1.03

    ¡°What do you mean when you say, ¡®a demon as a Gatekeeper is going too far¡¯? According to heroes, the most important step of any journey is always the first one.¡±


    ¨C Dread Emperor Sinister


    <hr>


    Ten days passed in the blink of an eye. Finally having somewhere safe to stop and think had been nice at first. After cleaning myself and some goodwill from Morgaine, I now felt like a person again. I didn¡¯t like having to rely on the charity of others. After she¡¯d made it clear I would have the opportunity to pay it back, I had finally caved in.


    Those were the positives of my situation. The ¡°apprenticeship¡± itself was another matter entirely.


    I had seen enough around the tower so far for my thoughts of these being parahumans to have been completely dismissed. Parahuman powers were not teachable. They were not standardized. They didn¡¯t require arcane symbolism to affect the world.


    As absurd as it was, I had had to concede to the idea that magic was real. Magic was real and the people living here could learn it. I could learn it.


    It was a novel and exciting idea at first. Then everything else had hit home. The front face in the town for this halfway house for orphaned wizards was a shop that operated for profit. They needed me to produce magical goods for me to be worth keeping.


    In theory, that was not a problem. In practice, I had one arm.


    That made no real difference in learning to read, write, or speak the local language. It made no difference for active magic either, other than slowing it down a little. I had been told that many of the rituals or magics that were reliant on me casting them myself were all things that could be done with only one hand. I hadn¡¯t had the opportunity to really learn any of them yet, but it was something I could do.


    There would still be some degree of a disadvantage compared to someone with two hands.  But it wasn¡¯t the kind of disadvantage I couldn¡¯t overcome.


    Unfortunately, that wasn¡¯t the kind of magic Olivier and Roland wanted me to learn.


    Artificing turned a profit and is what this place cared to teach. What I had learned so far about artificing made the realities of my situation clear. Unlike throwing fireballs and lightning bolts, this type of tinkering almost certainly required the use of two arms.


    Most of the others suffered through my attempts to spend an hour or so attempting to learn from them each day in good humour. It went even worse than expected. Not only was I physically at a disadvantage compared to others, but it seemed like something I was just incapable of learning. No matter how hard I tried, I achieved no results.


    ¡°Not everyone has the talent to be an artificer,¡± they commiserated.


    Not everyone was talented at all kinds of magic. They suspected I would be good at offensive magic, but also weren¡¯t willing to teach me it.


    They had also commented about the uncanny speed I was learning to speak the language. It made me uncomfortable, because it wasn¡¯t something I could afford to pretend to do worse at.


    Then I was sent out with Maxime to gather herbs. He was like me in that he wasn¡¯t a good artificer and was instead relegated to drudge work. They had him fetch herbs and then turn them into potions. So I was out with Maxime, where I could actually be useful to them. It stung. It was worse than that, though. From the way the others averted their eyes when talking to me, or they frowned when they thought I couldn¡¯t see, I could tell that I wasn¡¯t really wanted around. I didn¡¯t even know what it was I had done to earn it.


    With time to reflect in the evenings now that I was somewhere safe, I grew more and more morose. I was alone in an alien world that seemed to follow completely different rules from the one I lived in before. Whilst there were other people living in the same place as me, I was tolerated, not liked.


    This likely wasn¡¯t another version of Earth but instead something else. Something completely different.


    I didn¡¯t really have any idea of how I got here.


    Magic was real. At least, a force existed here that operated on rules which on Earth Bet would probably be termed magic.


    And most crushingly, I would almost certainly never see any of the people I cared about again.


    My evenings were not any better. Sleep was restless, troubled with dreams of hexagonal gates opening across a myriad of worlds and the golden glare of the wrath of an infant god. I woke intermittently, crying out whenever I did. The looks of pity the others gave me come morning did nothing to improve my mood.


    Frustrated, late one afternoon while out in the mountains with Maxime, I finally caved in.


    ¡°Can you teach me war magic?¡± I asked angrily as I pulled out another herb and deposited it in my pack.


    I didn¡¯t like the man. He was still crass in how he talked and provoked people for no good reason. He didn¡¯t pity or shun me, though, and instead seemed to treat me like a comrade in arms. Someone who had been through the same crucible and came out with similar scars. That made him more tolerable than talking to anyone else.


    Also, I was tired of feeling like I was making no progress at all.


    ¡°Girlie finally got tired of picking flowers and wants to put her hands on a real tool, eh?¡± He asked, leering suggestively.


    I stared at him flatly.


    ¡°You¡¯re less fun than my last commander,¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°Fine, let¡¯s head deeper into the mountains, so we won¡¯t give the people around here a scare.¡±


    I was surprised at how quickly he agreed.


    With the onset of Winter, frost was creeping down into the valley. As we hiked, our breath trailed behind us in the bitter Autumn air, and the path forward became more and more precarious. Eventually, he called to a stop.


    ¡°The fancy academics will argue for days about the benefits of one system of standardized magic or another. They will go on forever, discussing the merits of Jaquinite compared to Ligurian or Trismegistan Sorcery. Don¡¯t let any of that claptrap fool you, though. When you are on a battlefield facing down a cavalry charge, it doesn¡¯t matter what school of magic you were taught in. So long as you can rip the earth up under their horses'' hooves, pelt them with blocks of ice, or drown them in hellfire, your skinny ass might have a chance to survive.¡±


    He came alive as he began to talk. Almost as if he was another person.


    ¡°Roland told me that attempting to learn a second school of sorcery will drive the practitioner mad, is that true?¡± I asked.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how learning more than one methodology could cause an onset of insanity, but it was worth finding out before I made a terrible mistake.


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± he agreed.


    ¡°What will you be teaching me then?¡±


    ¡°Jaquinite war magic. It was what I was taught, so it¡¯s not like I can really teach you anything else. If you want to go balls deep into Trismegistan sorcery like those evil fucks up in the tower to the east, you¡¯d need to find someone else.¡± He spat at his foot as he spoke, then took a swig from the flask at his side.


    ¡°What will we be starting with, then?¡±


    ¡°The fireball. It¡¯s one of the simplest workings someone can do. Even an idiot can pick it up.¡± He started tracing symbols in the air, demonstrating what to do.


    I tried mimicking what he was doing. Over and over, I repeated the gestures. Whenever I messed up enough he would interrupt me, warning me that the outcome would be dire and told me to start again. As I worked, failures continued to mount. Frustrated, eventually I visualized the fireballs that Othala used to grant people back in Brockton Bay. I felt resistance again, much like I had on that night on the road. I pushed.


    Finally.


    A syrupy ball of liquid napalm languidly flew out of my hand, colliding with the mountainside. The grass it struck caught the light and, hastily, Maxime extinguished the flame. The two of us both looked on in surprise.


    ¡°Well girlie, that wasn¡¯t what I was expecting when I taught you that spell,¡± he mused, scratching at his ass as he spoke. His grey eyes narrowed on me searchingly.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I asked. Was he expecting me to fail even more?


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Well, because I taught you a standardized spell construct, see. The ball should have looked like this.¡±


    He proceeded to demonstrate, going through the hand movements rapidly as he worked. A ball shot out, colliding with a rock. He repeated the gesture and a similar ball appeared. Moments later, he had extinguished both. I understood what he was trying to show me. The ball I had created had looked nothing like either of the two that he made.


    ¡°Maybe I did something wrong then, but not wrong enough to mess up the spell?¡± I asked.


    He shook his head. ¡°If you had made a mistake like that, I would have stepped in. Try repeating what you did again and see if you get the same result.¡±


    I did as he asked. I went through the hand motions, visualized the same image, felt the resistance again, and pushed. Another ball of flame tumbled through the air, landing on the slopes further down.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be, maybe girls like you just handle balls differently,¡± he said absently. The usual bite wasn¡¯t in it, though, he seemed distracted by what he had seen.


    He had me practice for another half hour. As I did so, he kept putting out the flames. He watched what I did avidly, as if trying to solve a puzzle. It was unnerving, but not in a bad way. The process was cathartic. Despite the oddities that apparently existed, it felt like I had found something I could do.


    The fact that what I was doing was clearly not what was intended, was something I needed to worry about. Nobody liked Maxime though and if I was only practising around him, even if he did raise a fuss about what I was doing, I doubted anyone would believe him. The others apparently knew nothing about war magic anyhow.


    We started the journey back, arriving just as the bell in the centre of town tolled out the hour. We started the trek to the tower next. I asked to be invited in as we arrived, and then we deposited the ingredients we had collected. Usually, this was where we split off. He headed towards the local tavern in town and I stayed around the tower. As I was about to leave, I felt his hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°You should come drinking with me, girlie, it would do you some good.¡±


    I felt my eyebrows raise involuntarily at the assertion.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I can see you wallowing in misery about whatever it was that happened. None of the people here get what it¡¯s like, really. They¡¯re all soft. So pull the stick out of your ass and come down drinking with me, talking it over will do you some good.¡±


    He let go of me then and turned around, leaving.


    I didn¡¯t say anything or take him up on his offer then but chewed it over in my mind.


    <hr>


    A month later, and Winter had properly dug in. Snow covered the pass into the valley, cutting off all but the most adventurous of travellers from making the journey here. It dusted the roofs of buildings and clogged down the roads, turning them into a slurry of mush.


    With some of the spare coin I had, I had purchased an empty journal and taken to recording everything I could about Earth Bet. Without having a ballpoint pen, it was challenging, but I persevered. Who I was, what I lived through, and the people I knew. The food, the culture, the technology. I had been struck by the fear that it would, with time, all fade from my memory. That I would forget where I had come from.


    I had been writing it in English, since I doubted anyone here would be able to speak it. There were likely some skilled sorcerers who could translate it with magic. If any of them took a passing interest in my journal, though, I had far greater concerns.


    The process would take long, and I expected it would be months before I finished. Better to take the time now, though, then leave it and have my life fade from memory later on.


    Olivier had reconciled with Alisanne. Come Spring, the two of them would be leaving to get together somewhere else. He was moving on. The more time I spent at the tower, the more I realized I didn¡¯t want to keep staying here. The moment I felt that leaving wouldn¡¯t land me in trouble, I would probably depart as well.


    The other people in the town shunned me. This was unsurprising, as they turned away from everyone else who could work magic as well. I would be able to live with that if I felt some sense of friendship with the other sorcerers. Unfortunately, I had drawn apart from most of them too. The only exception was Maxime. As obscene, obnoxious, and odious as he was, time spent with him had become the highlight of my day.


    Throwing fireballs, lightning bolts, and chunks of rock far out in the countryside had become my only escape. The explanations for how to achieve higher order effects were becoming increasingly arcane. Unfortunately, I was reaching the limits of what he could teach. That meant I was reaching the limits of what I could safely pretend to learn. He wasn¡¯t capable of what he called High Arcana, which was apparently the more advanced part of sorcery. Without a teacher, I would need to learn more on my own.


    He still hadn¡¯t taught me how to heal. It was supposed to be much more complicated than anything else I had covered so far.


    With the change of seasons, my trips out with Maxime had become shorter and more of the time was spent digging up plants. That left both of us in a foul mood. The others avoided us as a result whenever we returned to the tower.


    It was early evening, and I was digging through some books on sorcery that Roland had made available. It had taken me some time before I was able to even partially read them, considering the language barrier. Whilst it was still a struggle to decode the text in front of me, I understood enough to be able to piece together the words I didn¡¯t know.


    I was trying to work out how I had arrived here.


    While it was possible that I had been brought here by Contessa, I had doubted that for a while. I strongly suspected this universe was not one of the ones typically accessible to people from Earth Bet at all. It seemed likely that if there had been people capable of magic available during the fight with Scion, I would have mastered them at the time.


    Given my state of mind during the fight, I would have considered it the reasonable thing to do.


    The fact that I hadn¡¯t, suggested that however I arrived here had come from this universe and not the reverse.


    I was fighting my way through a treatise on the nature of Creation written by a Proceran priest. It was mostly filled with theological ramblings. I was about to give up and look at another text when a passage stood out to me.


    Devils and the Fae are not creatures born of Creation. Manifesting here takes effort for them, as they fundamentally do not belong here. Bringing them into Creation almost always involves a ritual of some kind, although the Gods Above caution that it is unwise to do so. If the practitioner finds themselves in a position where they are forced to deal with the aforementioned beings, however, do note that they can be contained by use of an appropriately structured threshold.


    The text went on, providing more detail. That was not what concerned me, though. The sense of foreboding I felt whenever I approached a building, I finally understood the source.


    It was because I was approaching a threshold.


    On a hunch, I tried creating a flame. I didn¡¯t bother going through the required motions, instead just focusing on the result. It appeared, dancing on my fingers. I dismissed it.


    Unable to help myself, I laughed. It was a bitter, ugly, laugh. Thresholds. The world itself was telling me that I didn¡¯t belong.


    The effect was not supposed to be as strong as it was for me. For me, a building didn¡¯t even need to be warded at all. So long as it could be considered lived within, I couldn¡¯t enter without an invitation. Maybe it was because I came from a place even further removed from Creation than the beings that the text described.


    No wonder I felt so alone.


    It didn¡¯t explain everything. How I arrived here, for one. Someone probably summoned me, but I didn¡¯t know who, how or why. I did know that I wasn¡¯t performing sorcery as the others here understood it, though. This was likely why none of their lessons helped. It surprised me that none of them had realized that.


    Maybe they had and just thought it wiser not to inform me.


    I discarded the idea. Almost all the stories I had heard locals tell about how to deal with extradimensional entities involved either running away or killing them as fast as possible. Containing them was seen as the worst possible option. Letting them roam free was dismissed entirely.


    Whatever it was, the other practitioners hadn¡¯t caught on to the fact that I didn¡¯t belong. They had ways to check for the gift and seemed to believe I had it. Without a much better foundation, I couldn¡¯t be sure why. It was even a possibility that I did have the gift, but I couldn¡¯t figure out how to use it. I didn¡¯t consider that likely.


    Feeling down, I closed the book and put it away. I had read enough.


    Where to go from here? I felt so very lost. What I wouldn¡¯t give to talk to Lisa again, or say goodbye to my dad. Tears ran down my cheeks and I didn¡¯t bother to wipe them away.


    Then, a recent memory struck me.


    ¡°I can see you wallowing in misery about whatever it was that happened. None of the people here get what it¡¯s like, really. They¡¯re all soft. So pull the stick out of your ass and come down drinking with me, talking it over will do you some good.¡±


    Talking about my life from before wasn¡¯t an option. Not without being extremely creative with the truth. The offer of company made in good faith, however, called to me like a moth of a flame.


    If it drove off the loneliness, I could deal with everything else.


    Heading out, I was struck by the cold the moment my foot slid past the door. I looked around, there was nobody else in sight. Not in the mood for being even more miserable, I pictured an aura of gentle warmth exuding out from me. Moments later, I shoved the idea down Creation¡¯s throat and wondered out onto the street.


    The walk to the tavern only a few minutes. People eyed me distrustfully as I went, but I was used to that by now.


    You can¡¯t escape those looks, even a world away.


    Knocking on the tavern door, I asked if I could be let in. They agreed, but seemed confused, as if the idea of even asking was odd. I didn¡¯t care. I spotted Maxime by a table nestled in the corner on the far left. He was alone, nursing a drink. There was a wide gap between him and anyone else.


    That suited me just fine.


    I grabbed one of the bar stools and pulled it up, taking a seat opposite him.


    ¡°Finally got the stick out your ass, eh?¡± Maxime slurred.


    I didn¡¯t bother to reply.


    ¡°Louis, get the girl a beer.¡± He bellowed. Then, his eyes narrowed, eying me critically. ¡°Actually, make that two.¡±


    I was about to protest that I didn¡¯t want to drink. The memories of what people had been like at the Merchant¡¯s parties were still fixed in my mind, and they weren¡¯t nice ones. Then, mouth half opened, I paused.


    Why not at least give it a try?


    I closed it, letting the order go through. What the hell, the world I knew had ended. My dad wasn¡¯t around to shout at me for drinking, and I had stopped listening to him years ago anyhow. On the list of things I¡¯d done to disappoint him, this wouldn¡¯t even make the top ten.

 Estrangement 1.04

    ¡°The road to redemption is paved with a thousand corpses. After all, one who commits no evil has nothing to redeem.¡±


    ¨C Dread Emperor Benevolent


    <hr>


    Another ten days passed. The nights grew longer and the snow piled up. People grew more surly and unpleasant to be around.


    Roland had found out that Olivier and Alisanne were leaving together. Since then, a perpetual storm cloud had followed him around wherever he went. He had already been distant from most of us. Now, the only person he spoke to on the regular was Morgaine. Often, they left together, heading out on their own.


    I suspected they were plotting something. I couldn¡¯t bring myself to care. So long as they weren¡¯t hurting anyone, I wasn¡¯t going to make it my problem.


    I had enough issues of my own.


    More time indoors meant more time to read. In a fit of inspiration, I had turned to the Book of All Things. It was supposed to be the Holy Book about the Gods Above. That was not what interested me. It was most likely that I had been summoned from beyond Creation. Angels were from outside of Creation as well.


    It was amazing how much motivation you had to learn a new language when you were stranded in a foreign world.


    Learning that in Creation, Angels and Devils were real had come as a nasty surprise. If real gods existed, then why hadn¡¯t they done anything about the golden man? At first, I had only entertained the idea in terms of it concerning the existence of beings from beyond Creation. Then I brought the topic up with Maxime. The two of us now got together drinking every evening.


    I found it helped drive off the thoughts of how I was so alone.


    The two of us were sitting at our regular table. Successive generations of patrons here had carved plenty of unflattering images into the surface. It was in the leftmost corner, at the opposite end from the fireplace. Usually it would be cold, but Maxime usually used magic to create his own warmth. There was a large gap between us and anyone else. People avoided us as if we were diseased.


    ¡°Ssso Max, Iiiiii¡¯ve been reading the Book of all Things,¡± I began, my speech just the slightest bit slurred.


    ¡°Oh no, girlie, don¡¯t tell me you going all good on me now. Or you planning to do the whole naughty sister act and get down on your knees in front of me in one of them fancy white robes?¡± He leered my way unflatteringly.


    I gave him a deadpan stare. It was spoiled when I hiccuped and knocked over my own tankard, spilling its contents all over the table. I scowled.


    ¡°The Book talksss about Gods and Angels as if theyyy are real. Are they?¡± I asked.


    He looked at me strangely.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ve had too much to drink,¡± he told me, firmly.


    ¡°Nooo, I¡¯m fiiiiiine.¡± I denied.


    He snorted. ¡°If you want proof the Gods are real Girlie, just go to the House of Light for a day and ask for a demonstration. I¡¯m sure the Sisters there will be more than happy to bring you to the Light, if you catch my drift.¡±


    Conversation drifted there. Eventually, the two of us headed back to our rooms at the tower. I headed to sleep, for another night tormented by dreams of a golden sky. After nursing the hangover that struck me the next day, I decided to consider his advice.


    My first thought was to dismiss it. If Gods were real, then they probably knew what I was and were fully capable of warning their followers about me. It didn¡¯t take much thinking for me to change my mind. I had been in the town for a while now. If the Gods were going to warn the priests here, I would have already been noticed.


    So I followed Maxime¡¯s advice.


    I took a trip to the House of Light. At first, they scowled at me even more than the people on the streets. Their attitude changed entirely when I asked them to tell me about their faith. After an hour of listening to a priestess babble excitedly about the Gods Above and demonstrate some minor miracles, I was convinced. The Gods here were real. That, or there was another extradimensional entity with Godlike abilities, handing out powers.


    The results were the same, either way.


    There aren¡¯t any prophecies about the end of the world, so I don¡¯t need to worry about it.


    If I kept telling myself that, then maybe I would believe it. After seeing one nigh Godlike entity bring about the apocalypse, my faith in the good intentions of what appeared to be another wasn¡¯t at an all-time high. At least these ones tried to pretend to be good. They even had a holy book. Scion had bad advertising in comparison.


    <hr>


    The end of the month had come sooner than I expected. Tempers were high at the tower. Roland had taken to snapping at us more and more often. Max and I had taken to staying progressively later at the tavern each night. The atmosphere suited us better here anyhow. Despite how foul his mouth was, he had never actually tried anything.


    I found to my surprise I was actually starting to consider the man a friend.


    The two of us were thoroughly drunk. That, or there were more tankards on the table than could physically fit. I suppose with magic, both could be true. The thought amused me. I giggled. Max and I probably reeked of alcohol. I hadn¡¯t washed in two days, and I didn¡¯t make for very good company.


    Nowadays, I was usually either drunk or hung over, much to my chagrin. The stuff still tasted vile, but it pushed the haze that haunted me just a bit further away. Just one year ago, if I had known I would end up like this, I would probably have been horrified.


    Back when I still had a purpose to live for.


    A small voice at the back of my mind was shouting at me that I should try to do better. I had grown adept at muting it.


    Max set another mug in front of me.


    ¡°Thanksss Max,¡± I beamed at him. His grey eyes softened in response.


    ¡°Say Girlie, you feel like telling me your story?¡±


    He¡¯d asked me a few times now, and so far I had always said no. Right now, though, I was brimming with confidence and felt like spinning a yarn.


    Might as well talk about it, I trust his discretion regardless.


    Licking my lips, I considered how to begin my story. I would need to exercise some creativity, to make it fit with the audience.


    ¡°Surrrre Max, ssso long asss you call me Taylor,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Alright Taylor,¡± he said, the tone of his voice odd. Why were there three of him?


    No, don¡¯t get distracted.


    ¡°The ssstory ssstarts a few years ago,¡± I began.


    ¡°Like all good stories do,¡± he agreed.


    ¡°For reasonss I won¡¯t talk about, I was a messss, mister-misar-misher-¡± I trailed off, frustrated.


    ¡°Miserable,¡± he added helpfully.


    ¡°That,¡± I agreed affably.


    ¡°Soooo I went out trying to find a fight. Looking back, I thhhhhhhink I wanted to die at the time. Then I ran into a dragon that wanted to eat some children. Soooo I decided to do be a hero and try to save the children.¡± I smiled in recollection.


    ¡°And you survived?¡± He asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.


    ¡°It turned out the children were villains.¡± I giggled and took another sip of my drink. It was unbearably bitter. I was sweet in comparison.


    ¡°And what happened next?¡±


    ¡°We saved each other and they sssort of invited me to join them. Ssso I did.¡±


    ¡°So you were a villain then?¡± His voice had a sharp tinge to it.


    ¡°At first, then I became a hero later.¡± I agreed.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Redemption stories always have tragic endings,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Heyyy, don¡¯t spoil my story. I haven¡¯t got to that part yet,¡± I complained, swatting at him with my stump. I knocked over a tankard in the process. He caught it deftly and placed it back on the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to need another drink after this,¡± I vaguely heard him complain.


    ¡°Sssoo I¡¯m going to ssskip a lot of the sssmaller ssstuff we did early on, like fighting a Tyrant, buuut sssoon before the sssea monster wrecked the city I learned our bossss had captured the Princess and had her in his dungeon. Rescuing her became my goal. It took some time for me to figure out he was ackshually the Chancellor, but finally I killed him and ssset her free.¡±


    ¡°And that was when things went awry?¡± He asked, leaning in.


    I couldn¡¯t help myself, I snorted. ¡°Thingsss were always going wrong. I was sssort of failing myself into successs.¡±


    ¡°So, what came next, then?¡±


    I continued my story, using the appropriate substitutions I had made up. Noelle became a demonsummoned by the Chancellor in his last moment out of spite. The Slaughterhouse Nine were an Evil cult dedicated towards trying to end the world. They had, in my retelling, made it their mission to try to create something equivalent to an evil god. Scion got no mention at all. I made sure to be vague on details.


    As my story drew to a close, my eyes began to droop.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have a Name any more, do you, Taylor?¡± He inquired.


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°What was your Name as a hero?¡±


    ¡°Weaver,¡± I replied. It slipped out before I even considered whether I wanted him to know.


    ¡°Looking back, I didn¡¯t do a very good job. Lotssss of regrets.¡± I continued.


    ¡°Looking forward, you should try not to make new ones,¡± he murmured.


    Our conversation stilled then. The two of us staggered back to the tower, supporting each other. Max was juggling coloured balls of fire as we hiked our way back home. We arrived at the ground floor. I took a seat to wait while Max went to find a bottle of wine from his room. We had made an evening ritual of singing songs and drinking before heading to sleep.


    I didn¡¯t know the context for the ballads and butchered the pronunciation badly. It didn¡¯t really matter. Max arrived back, and we started to sing, punctuating every other line with a drink.


    Hours later, I stumbled my way into bed. My sleep went untroubled by dreams for once.


    Which was why it came as such a shock when I woke up by being dunked into a nearby pond.


    Dawn had not even set in yet. The sun had yet to rise. The icy cold of a body of water that should have been frozen solid made for an unwelcome appearance upon waking up. I sputtered my way to the surface. My head was a throbbing mess and my mood was foul. After catching my bearings, I saw Olivier standing beside the pond.


    His arms were folded, and his expression was stern. He wore his usual coat in addition to frilly long pants. Were I not so angry, I would have commented how well the look suited him.


    How did he even carry me here without ending my rest?


    ¡°What exactly did you do that for?¡± I demanded frostily, poking his chest with my index finger.


    He looked calm, unruffled. Ignoring my outburst, he began to speak in a measured tone. ¡°For some time now, you and Maxime have been provided accommodations by me on rather generous terms. However, when the House of Light, the Townfolk and the other people living in the same tower as you have all raised complaints, I started to have some concerns.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re throwing us out then?¡± I said bitterly. It didn¡¯t surprise me. A part of me knew it would happen sooner or later.


    His expression softened. ¡°On that night, when we were struck by brigands, you told me that you were trying to improve the manner of your comportment. Would that girl be proud of how you conduct yourself now? Drinking all night and then causing strife during the day?¡±


    ¡°Maybe I wouldn¡¯t be like this if everyone but Maxime hadn¡¯t treated me like an outcast from the moment I first arrived,¡± I bit back.


    His eyebrows rose. ¡°I have no recollection of this.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t, would you? Ever since that night on the road, you haven¡¯t even been able to look at me properly. You avoided conversation when you could, as if I was diseased. Then, when I arrived here, it was more of the same. The people in the tower either pitied me or avoided me, and the people in the town outright disdain me. Then you wonder why I started drinking with Maxime.¡± I stopped, taking in a breath.


    He frowned for a moment and then asked, ¡°did you ever stop to consider how you appear to everyone else?¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°When you first met them, what were they told about you?¡± Olivier pressed.


    ¡°That you found me and I discovered my gift in a fight.¡± I replied.


    ¡°Where you left the foe you felled with a face plagued by rot,¡± he explained.


    ¡°So perhaps I made a poor first impression. That isn¡¯t a good reason for them to shun me, though,¡± I argued.


    ¡°Upon arrival, you proceeded to spend most of your time with Maxime, who had some notoriety already. You avoided associating with anyone else,¡± he continued.


    ¡°Because I couldn¡¯t stand people either looking at me with pity or avoiding looking at me at all.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever discuss this with them? Try to find some shared common ground? If not, how could you have expected another outcome?¡±


    How dare he.


    ¡°When I tried learning from them, they brushed me off, telling me that Artificing is the only skill I would need. Then, when I failed at that, they sent me off with Max into the mountains to pick herbs. Does it surprise you that I made friends with him? Is my friendship a problem for you?¡± I challenged.


    ¡°I take no offence at whom you make friends with. The two of you drinking is what the town finds fault with. You have a week in which to better yourself.¡± His face softened. ¡°Would your father be happy to see you now? Don¡¯t disappoint him, Taylor.¡±


    I stiffened.


    ¡°Fix your own family problems before you go and start digging up mine. It¡¯s not like you and your brother get along well, is it?¡± I hissed back at him.


    His eyes became flinty, and he started to walk away. ¡°One week, Taylor.¡±


    I stormed my way back to the tower. I looked like a wet cat. My temper was foul, and I was itching for a drink. That usually soothed my nerves. After washing and changing clothes, Max and I headed out into the mountains.


    He was quieter than usual. It struck me as odd, but I didn¡¯t mind. He still made for good company.


    Time passed and soon we were headed back. He stopped near the river. We were still a fair distance away from the town. His hands, I noticed, were shaking.


    ¡°Max?¡± I asked, concerned.


    ¡°Last night, you told me your story,¡± he began.


    Did I?


    I couldn¡¯t really remember. I hoped I didn¡¯t let slip something too concerning. ¡°Is there a problem?¡± I asked, concerned.


    ¡°No, no. I just thought it was only fair if I told you my own in response.¡±


    Oh.


    I sat down next to him on the bank of the river. My hand reached for his. He grasped it firmly. Around us, snow fell and was pushed away by the field I had surrounding us. It was quiet, not even the chirping of insects could be heard.


    ¡°A few years ago, Taylor, I worked as a soldier.¡± His voice rasped as he spoke.


    I realized that for once he was completely sober.


    ¡°I went from Fantassin company to Fantassin company, never staying in one group for long. The money I earned, I gave back to my family in Apenun whenever I returned there to help support them.¡± He paused.


    ¡°You can stop if you want,¡± I told him softly. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks. They made a mess of his beard.


    ¡°During the Summer five years past, I returned only to find a villain had killed my wife and daughter while I had been out playing soldier. The Redolent Torturer. He had been caught and killed before my return. The things he did to my family before they died¡­¡± His chest heaved as he talked.


    ¡°I know I probably would have died if I were there, but I always wonder¡­¡± He trailed off.


    ¡°You wonder if you might have saved them if you hadn¡¯t been away from home.¡± I finished softly.


    He nodded stiffly.


    There was a lull in the conversation as we just sat and watched the falling snow. The moment was heavy, but somehow peaceful.


    ¡°You remind me of what I think my daughter would have been like, if she hadn¡¯t been killed.¡± He said quietly.


    My eyebrows rose. I couldn¡¯t help it, I snorted.


    ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t talk to your wife and daughter the way you talk to me,¡± I told him sternly.


    He grinned at that.


    ¡°Nah, that came after. Thing is, I don¡¯t like seeing a girl that reminds me of my daughter pissing her life away the way that I did.¡±


    He reached to his side and pulled out the flask he usually carried everywhere.


    ¡°Olivier came by and offered me an ultimatum, you know,¡± he began.


    ¡°He did the same for me,¡± I replied.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal, Taylor.¡±


    ¡°What kind of deal?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The kind of deal where I¡¯ll try to stop pissing away my life, if you do the same for me,¡± he stated. As he did so, he popped off the lid from the flask, pouring the wine into the river below.


    My breath caught. I felt a funny warmth bubble up in my chest.


    ¡°You¡¯ll clean up your language?¡± I asked. It didn¡¯t really matter much to me at this point, but it gave me room to think about what he was trying to do here.


    ¡°Now, girlie don¡¯t go demanding too much of me,¡± he began, affecting taking offence. ¡°But if it makes you make the effort, then I¡¯ll try to change that as well.¡±


    ¡°No, no, that¡¯s fine.¡± I said quickly.


    He said nothing more, just giving me room to think. This was the second time today someone had approached me about this. However, it felt more personal. Like it actually mattered.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I breathed in, nodding jerkily. ¡°We¡¯ll both make the effort then.¡±


    ¡°Together,¡± he agreed.

 Estrangement 1.05

    ¡°Twenty-eight. If you find an orphaned child on your quest, be sure to hand them off to someone else. Whilst fulfilling, the role of a mentor has a limited life expectancy.¡±


    ¨C ¡®Two Hundred heroic Axioms¡¯, author unknown


    <hr>


    The following weeks were frustrating. The temptation to keep drinking plagued the both of us, although neither of us gave in. We weren¡¯t evicted from the tower. Unfortunately, there was now nothing distracting us from reflecting on our pasts. The two of us had taken to talking over games of Shatranj. As a game, it was like a local variant of chess.


    I talked about my time on Earth Bet, although I always kept the details sparse. It remained a land far off beyond the coasts of Calernia in my stories. I never talked about heroes again, or the fight with Scion. I didn¡¯t even know how to start.


    Max knew I was holding a lot back. He was kind enough to never press.


    The others still viewed us warily. They probably expected us to fall back into drinking. I could have made the effort to befriend them, as Olivier had suggested. To my surprise, I found that I didn¡¯t really want to.


    They wanted to make tools and live quiet lives. As romantic as the idea seemed to me in abstract, I knew that trying to live like that would probably drive me mad. Our perspectives were too far apart, and I was fine with that.


    As time moved on, more and more of the tower¡¯s residents had left. It wasn¡¯t even our fault, either. Roland was hardly around. When he was, though, his presence was tyrannical. Ordering people around and venting anger, he alone was driving people off.


    I had already been toying with the idea of leaving. The stay had done me some good. It had helped to ground me in a new world. But I was restless.


    I needed a purpose. Some goal to drive me forward.


    ¡°So I was thinking,¡± I began. I picked up my pawn, capturing one of his.


    ¡°Now there¡¯s a first,¡± he teased. I gave him a mock glare.


    ¡°When the Winter ends, I think we should leave.¡± I told him seriously.


    ¡°With Olivier?¡± He inquired.


    I hadn¡¯t actually considered that as an option. It was something to think on. Olivier and I hadn¡¯t quite reconciled, but¡­ we weren¡¯t on bad terms.


    ¡°Possibly, but even without him.¡± I replied.


    He frowned at the board in concentration. ¡°Let¡¯s hear why.¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t made for this kind of life. It¡¯s bringing out the worst in both of us. I¡¯m planning on leaving regardless, and I thought that I may as well invite you along.¡± I explained.


    He said nothing for a while, then slid the white queen diagonally across the board, capturing my rook. ¡°Where are we going to be heading, then?¡±


    I suppressed a smile. Whilst it wasn¡¯t an explicit agreement, it was more or less the same thing. He was willing to come along. ¡°I hadn¡¯t put thought into that part yet,¡± I admitted. ¡°I figured I should ask you first.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve never fought in an army before, have you?¡± He asked.


    ¡°No, I haven¡¯t. I¡¯m not sure if I could.¡± I set up my knight to capture his bishop a few moves down the line, threatening his queen in the process.


    ¡°And why¡¯s that?¡± Without looking at the board, he moved his queen again, taking one of my bishops.


    Damn.


    He usually won our games.


    ¡°I can¡¯t trust other people to make the right choices. I need to be the one in charge.¡± I explained.


    He grimaced. ¡°Not much room for that kind of attitude on the battlefield, kid.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s another reason I brought this to you first. I don¡¯t need to be a soldier. I just need to feel like I am making a difference. A goal that is worthwhile.¡± Now that his queen had moved out of the way, I could promote my pawn.


    ¡°So what else can you do then. From what I¡¯ve gathered, your homeland was very different to Calernia.¡± He proceeded to capture the other rook.


    ¡°It was different, yes. In most ways, I would argue it was better. On the whole, people were lived easier lives. We had machines that could do the work of tens of men in barely a fraction of the time. I miss it a great deal.¡± I said wistfully.


    ¡°You know how to make any of those machines?¡± He inquired.


    I shook my head. ¡°The technical details for most would escape me. I understand the broad strokes in some areas. Enough to point someone in the right direction. I couldn¡¯t build them myself, though.¡±


    And just telling everyone everything I had some vague understanding of would never end well. Either I would be taken as a lunatic, or I would be taken seriously. The latter was probably more dangerous. There was nothing stopping me from talking later once I understood my situation better, but if I talked now and regretted it, then I couldn¡¯t take it back.


    He furrowed his brow in thought. ¡°I believe I know what you need,¡± he asserted.


    I said nothing, waiting for him to go on.


    ¡°You need to travel and get to know Calernia for yourself. You want to do something, but you don¡¯t know what to do because you don¡¯t know enough to decide on your own. You feel out of place, lost. Tying yourself to a cause right now would be a mistake.¡±


    The game continued as I mulled over his words. It ended up being one of the few games I won, despite how distracted I was.


    It felt almost like a cop out. But it was a cop out I could live with. Not so much was working towards a goal as working towards the goal of having a goal. It wasn¡¯t committing to something permanently without having figured out what I wanted first.


    ¡°Would you be willing to travel with me then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± he replied.


    Weeks passed by, eventually he agreed. We planned to leave come the Winter¡¯s end. I had asked Olivier if he would mind if we joined him for the journey. Apenun sounded like it would make for a good first stop. It was the closest city that was somewhat important. Visiting it would give me a taste of what the Principate was really like.


    Olivier had still not taken my advice.


    He had avoided talking to his brother, who had withdrawn even further from the rest of us. The few travelling wizards who had set up around the tower had departed. What once looked like the birth of a new institution was now on the decline. The only person who saw Roland regularly was Morgaine. The two of them spent more and more time away from the tower.


    I warned Olivier that I expected something was wrong. He brushed aside my concerns.


    When trouble finally came, all of us were taken by surprise. Max and I had just arrived back in town from our time spent foraging and were making our way to the tower. We were passing the tavern when it happened.


    ¡°Is that a lute?¡± Max asked, slowing.


    I stopped for a moment and listened with him. It was hard to hear anything specific over the din. Frowning in concentration, I could eventually pick something out. It was off tune and didn¡¯t make for very pleasant hearing. But it was unmistakably a lute.


    ¡°I think so,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think anyone here had one.¡±


    ¡°Whoever is playing it needs to be flogged,¡± Max scowled.


    ¡°It¡¯s bad, but I wouldn¡¯t consider it that awful,¡± I disagreed.


    We bickered over it for a couple more minutes and were about to go inside when the crows came home to roost.


    An entirely different sound caught our attention. From the direction of the Knightsgrave, the clamour of hooves could be heard. I squinted. Vaguely, about a dozen cloaked figures could be seen making their way towards the town. They were carrying lit torches flickering with clear blue flames. As they approached, they started hurling them onto the roofs of buildings.


    ¡°We¡¯re under attack!¡± Maxime roared at the top of his voice, before I could even react.


    He formed a fireball, hurling it at the lead rider. Their cloak caught light. They remained eerily silent. Hastily, I started to support him.


    Can I restrain them?


    Max hadn¡¯t taught me any ways to incapacitate rather than kill. He was too caught up in his own fight though to pay attention to what I was doing. I decided it was better to risk him discovering my secret than to risk living with more regrets. I visualized the ground beneath the hooves of the lead rider becoming quicksand and pushed. The horse began to sink.


    The rider leapt off. As they got closer, I saw into their helmet. A skull stared back at me. It was one thing knowing that you were living in a storybook world, and another to understand it. I was so taken by surprise, I failed to dodge as a blade headed my way. Someone shoved me to the ground, averting what would have been a hit.


    ¡°Get your head into it, girlie!¡± Max bellowed at me.


    I rolled as I landed, then climbed to my knees. Another zombie horse was headed my way. They weren¡¯t really alive, so I had no reason to hold back. For a moment, the world around us darkened. Then a spiralling helix of actinic light departed from my fingertips. The last time I had seen something like it, Purity had been on a murderous rampage. I felt something drain out of me.


    Four of the riders were blasted away.


    I blinked, spots appearing in my eyes as a result of my attack. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another sword swinging at me. Diving to the side, a sharp pain jolted through me as I landed on my stump.


    I turned towards the figure and sent another beam in their direction.


    I hadn¡¯t tried using it before now, it was too flashy to not be seen. It was something I was fairly sure I could pull off, though, considering the other powers I had tried out. On the other hand, when I had tried to see if I could use Flachette¡¯s power, I had given myself a splitting headache and not had much else to show for it. Creation hadn¡¯t been too keen on me doing that at all.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Careful with that murder beam girlie, you¡¯re going to fry the townsfolk!¡± Max shouted.


    Right, the civilians.


    The riders had split up and were making their way through the town. Feet thumping heavily on the snow, we chased after them. They seemed to be going out of their way to avoid us and were heading towards the east side of Beaumarais.


    When we arrived, the House of Light was under attack.


    The two of us joined in the defence. My approach was much more cautious than before. I pulled water out of the snow, freezing it on their bones. It didn¡¯t completely incapacitate them. It only made it easier for others to handle the fighting.


    Unfortunately, there were many friendly targets around and it was hard not to injure them. Dimly, I realized how much easier it was to avoid collateral damage when you controlled a horde of insects.


    I¡¯d tried to see if I could control bugs over a month ago, once I started to realize what I was doing. There was no point to it. It wasn¡¯t that I couldn¡¯t do it. I just couldn¡¯t multitask effectively without my passenger. It made the entire exercise meaningless when I suddenly had to micromanage individual insects. I didn¡¯t test if I could control people. Even if I could, nobody would take kindly to it.


    Best for me to leave well enough alone.


    It wasn¡¯t like insects would help me much against skeletons anyhow.


    Several of the priests had been killed, but some were still alive. The mayor was helping mount a defence, but Alisanne couldn¡¯t be found.


    I couldn¡¯t feel any more of our enemies immediately nearby. In the distance, I saw more of them coming. What I guessed were another four dozen zombie riders were on their way towards us. They came down the hills from the Knightsgrave.


    The town had woken up though and was rallying to the defence. The militia had come out, as well as priests from the House of Light. Those that were still alive, in any case. I expected more would die before the night was out.


    The riders were still some distance away, so I took a moment to consider what to do. Purity¡¯s beams were effective, but caused too much incidental damage. Fire was too slow, and I didn¡¯t know if lightning would even do anything. My first plan was probably the best one.


    Trapping them in mud would make it easy for everyone else to deal with them.


    So I tried the same approach again, but this time I thought larger. I remembered Leviathan when it came to Brockton Bay. I remembered the waves. That wasn¡¯t what I wanted, but it was something I could work with.


    All around us, the snow started to move. It fell off of rooftops and clumped up into a muddy wave. The wave began to move. It crashed into the riders and their progress slowed dramatically. The corners of my eyes began to darken and my vision swam.


    Everyone else took advantage of my manoeuvre, though. The militia formed up properly, and the priests organized themselves as well. I felt a hand seize my shoulder, shaking me gently.


    ¡°We should go, Taylor.¡± Maxime urged me.


    ¡°What about the attack?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Zombies usually don¡¯t just raise themselves. There is probably a sorcerer or necromancer behind this. We should go look for them. We need to stop them first.¡± He asserted.


    Trusting his intuition, I went along with his advice.


    The pale light of the moon peeked out from between the clouds as we scaled the path back to the tower. We hurried along recklessly. In hindsight, we were lucky neither of us slipped and injured ourselves.


    It was eerily quiet when we arrived. There were two more skeletons outside, but they were easily disposed of. There was nobody else around. When we reached the threshold, something felt different about the place. As if it no longer counted as a home. That was cause for concern. We entered the room.


    In the armchair beside the fireplace, Morgaine¡¯s corpse lay. Her side was badly scorched. Blood pooled on the ground beneath her feet, oozing out a wound from her chest. She looked anguished.


    The soft murmur of voices could still be heard from above. The two of us started the ascent.


    ¡°The ma - it was - I was so angry.¡± Roland said.


    ¡°Your - attacked - is dead.¡± Olivier replied.


    ¡°It was her - told me we would never get - needed to raise the corpses. - you have to believe me.¡± Roland hissed.


    ¡°Taylor warned - regrets.¡± Olivier spoke mournfully.


    ¡°She - wake - spell is broken,¡± Roland said. ¡°She¡­ - know. Olivier, - help me. I never meant to hurt anyone.¡±


    We were at the base of the stairs leading to the final floor. Their voices were much clearer now and could be easily heard. I was about to start the climb, when Max put his hand on my shoulder and quietly shook his head.


    ¡°What do you want me to do, Roland?¡± Olivier softly asked.


    ¡°Morgaine is dead, or good as,¡± Roland said. ¡°And it was her idea from the start. We can tell people¡­ Alisanne is the magistrate, and she trusts you. If you tell her it was all Morgaine she¡¯ll believe it.¡±


    There was a lull in the discussion. Olivier didn¡¯t say anything. I looked at Max again, but he just shook his head.


    ¡°They need to talk this out without us, girlie,¡± he whispered to me.


    ¡°Trying to get rid of me, are you?¡± Roland accused. ¡°Now that you have all you wanted, time to do away with the mage brother before you buy yourself a title. You owe me, Olivier. If you hadn¡¯t taken her, I never would have-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your fault,¡± Roland spat out. ¡°You know it is.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Olivier quietly replied.


    ¡°You can¡¯t have done this,¡± Olivier mused. ¡°It would ruin it all.¡±


    ¡°Yes, exactly,¡± Roland agreed.


    Whatever it was they were contemplating, I didn¡¯t like the sound of it. I started to climb the stairs.


    ¡°There is a spell that could make her more suggestible when we wake her,¡± Roland told him. ¡°Nothing untoward, just as if she¡¯d had a large cup of wine. It would-¡±


    ¡°You should not have magic,¡± Olivier said.


    ¡°It should have been you, right?¡± Roland laughed. ¡°You manage to go a great many years without saying it, brother. I¡¯m almost impressed.¡±


    ¡°You have abused your power,¡± Olivier said slowly, as if testing out the words. ¡°You no longer deserve to hold it.¡±


    ¡°I was born with it, Ollie,¡± Roland hissed. ¡°There it is, the simple truth: I was born with it and you weren¡¯t. And you¡¯ve been trying to take things from me all my life to make up for that, but it won¡¯t ever do anything because the Gods Above already decided which of us would matter when they gave the Talent to only one of us. Allow me to demonstrate-¡±


    The world grew quiet for a moment, and then a Roland made a keening sound. I quickened my pace.


    ¡°What have you done?¡± Roland shouted. ¡°What have you done, Olivier? Did you destroy my magic?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s over, Roland,¡± Olivier declared. ¡°You won¡¯t escape the consequences of this.¡±


    Max and I reached the next floor, to see Roland standing beside a desk. He was simmering with rage. Olivier was lying against it, dazed.


    ¡°It will come back, if I kill you,¡± Roland seethed. ¡°Won¡¯t it?¡±


    Olivier grabbed at his brother, as if to attempt to push him back. He failed, and his head was smashed against the desk once more.


    Deciding the fight had gone on for long enough, I ran in, grabbing a chair with my hand as I went. I hurled. Spinning through the air, it hit Roland dead on, sending him tumbling to the ground. He landed beside what appeared to be the sleeping body of Alisanne. Both of them froze.


    ¡°Somebody had best explain what happened here.¡± I declared, fixing them both with a glare.


    Olivier opened his mouth and I turned my attention his way. Before he could say anything, though, Roland cried out.


    Alisanne was sitting up and had buried a knife in his heart.


    Great.


    ¡°Max, separate those two. Can you heal Roland?¡± I ordered.


    I kept my eyes trained on Olivier as I spoke, daring him to do anything.


    ¡°Roland is at fault. He raised the corpses and set them on the townsfolk. His plan was to take over and see himself declared as lord. He did not deserve his magic, and so I took it from him.¡± Olivier began to explain.


    ¡°You have developed a Name.¡± I stated, testing the word.


    Names, as I understood it, were something like this world¡¯s version of trigger events. I didn¡¯t really know the specifics, information on them seemed to be frustratingly vague. The details were similar enough though that I couldn¡¯t help but draw parallels.


    Someone without powers undergoes some ordeal and then gains powers in the aftermath.


    He smiled at me bitterly, but didn¡¯t say anything.


    Max raised his head. ¡°This one¡¯s beyond my skill with healing, Taylor,¡± he informed me.


    ¡°Are you here to tell me that you told me so?¡± Olivier asked.


    I opened my mouth, about to reply, when I saw the warning glance from Max.


    What would I be feeling right now, if I was Olivier?


    I would be in shock. Upset, struggling to put together an answer for a problem that had no real solution. I changed what I was about to say.


    ¡°What do you want to do now?¡±


    Max left the cooling corpse. Alisanne took the opportunity to run up and hug Olivier. Awkwardly, he hugged her back.


    ¡°It can¡¯t have been him,¡± he stated.


    ¡°What can¡¯t have been him?¡± I inquired. Whatever train his thoughts were following was on a different timetable to our own.


    ¡°The necromancy, the attack on the town. The story we tell cannot allow it to be him.¡±


    ¡°I thought you claimed he was the one who did it, earlier.¡± I pressed.


    Is he in denial, or does he want to blame someone else?


    ¡°He did do it,¡± he agreed. ¡°But we can¡¯t tell people that.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Because if he takes the blame, this all falls apart. This refuge for wizards, all I have been trying to build up. If the townsfolk know that he is at fault, all of their prejudices will seem earned.¡± He explained.


    ¡°There is no denying it is his corpse here, how do you plan to spin this?¡± I asked.


    He licked his lips thoughtfully, then raised his hand. Quickly, I watched him attempt to weave an illusion. It took him multiple tries, but eventually he got it done.


    ¡°No,¡± Alisanne quietly said. ¡°No, please. Olivier, don¡¯t do this. Don¡¯t take his face.¡±


    ¡°Olivier de Beaumarais died,¡± he replied. ¡°Slain along Lady Morgaine by the Praesi warlock who raised the dead and set them on the town and tower. He will be buried here.¡±


    I tried to follow his logic, but didn¡¯t see what he was trying to achieve.


    ¡°Roland de Beaumarais heroically drove back the Praesi but failed to kill him, and now pursues him to avenge his brother,¡± he continued. ¡°He wills all his possessions to Alisanne Lassier, to dispose of as she sees fit, as he will never return to Beaumarais.¡±


    It would serve to sell the lie, but I couldn¡¯t see it doing anything else. His dream was still dead. Without him around, nobody would maintain the tower. It had been his project from top to bottom and now, like all dreams, it lay broken.


    Before I could start speaking, Max¡¯s hand settled gently on my shoulder.


    His dream was dead, but telling him serves no purpose.


    Though there was something else I could offer that would help.


    ¡°Max and I will come with you on this journey,¡± I declared.


    ¡°I don¡¯t recall putting my ass on the line, girlie,¡± he stated, amused.


    ¡°So are you choosing to stay behind then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I never said that, but I think I can speak for myself.¡±


    Olivier looked like he was about to protest. I shut his mouth with a glare.


    ¡°This is the worst fight you have ever been in. For me, this isn¡¯t even in my top ten. Of the three of us, you have the least experience. The two of us were already planning on leaving with you before all of this, so why not allow us to come along.¡±


    ¡°It will be dangerous-¡± he began.


    ¡°Max was a Fantassin, and I fought in a fair share of battles myself. Both of us have nobody who will miss us if we die. Neither of us mind the implied danger. The two of us understand the risks. You¡¯re the one who doesn¡¯t.¡± I cut him off.


    Alisanne looked at me gratefully, then added her own thoughts. With her voice thrown in, it didn¡¯t take long for him to change his mind.


    Not an hour later and the three of us departed, riding out on horseback. If I had known how uncomfortable riding was before then, maybe I wouldn¡¯t have left.

 Estrangement 1.0x

    ¡°Don¡¯t be absurd, Princess Marguerite. Executing the Princes of Procer is certainly a sound campaign strategy. Is it not obvious? The outcome of every election is determined by those who show up.¡±


    ¨C Madeline de Jolicoeur, also known as the Fey Enchantress


    <hr>


    Prince Arsene Odon considered the news which had been brought to him. It had come first from Beaumarais, a sleepy border town with barely any residents where nothing much ever happened. There, it had made its way to Apenun, where Lady Lassier had it verified, before sending it on to him.


    A city had appeared out in the middle of nowhere inside the borders of his principality. If that had been the extent of it, then it would only be a minor trouble. It still would have raised a fuss, but it likely would have been manageable.


    Unfortunately, it didn¡¯t end there. The city was only slightly in excess of two miles in diameter and, to the eyes of the observer, looked more like a chunk of land displaced from somewhere else. In addition, parts of it were grander than even the most extravagant buildings in Salia.


    The prevailing theory was that a Praesi warlock had teleported an entire chunk of land deep into the heart of his territory.


    Sorcerers had been consulted and were still being consulted as to the likelihood of the Calamities to the East to have engineered a feasible mass teleportation spell. Military strategists were speculating on whether they needed to be primed for an oncoming invasion. Cartographers and historians had been asked to see if they could determine where exactly the chunk of city had come from.


    The ritual, for what else could it have been, was extraordinarily efficient as the expected desolation which should have accompanied such a working was notably marked as absent.


    The Praesi had managed to make a headache for him without even having landed a single soldier in his territory.


    Experts were being consulted to determine the feasibility of actually sustaining a city in that location, now that it was there. Just because the structures existed, didn¡¯t mean living there was a good idea. Investigations would also need to be done to establish how such a city was constructed in the first place. And, lowest on his list of worries, maps would need to be redrawn.


    All of these paled in importance compared to his largest headache, though. That was obviously the political fallout.


    Somehow, news of the city¡¯s appearance had made its way to Princess Constance of Aisne. She had determined that she wanted a piece of the pie for herself. It wasn¡¯t within her borders, but that hadn¡¯t stopped her from pulling together her troops and having them set to march. Her goal wasn¡¯t to occupy it, so much as it was to seize the place for a short term and then scavenge what she could before pulling out. His informants among her retinue had confirmed as much.


    So now he was forced to muster up a response.


    The civil war, having gone on for nine years now, was bad enough on its own. Having to concern himself with this in addition to the ongoing jostling for the position of First Prince made him almost consider just conceding the prize to her. The problem was that it seemed like too enticing a prize to lose.


    And after multiple fights with her on his northern border, he wasn¡¯t prepared to just roll over without a fight. He wanted her dead too much to just do that.


    He would need to watch his borders closely to ensure that Prince Arnaud didn¡¯t take advantage of the reduced manpower down south while his forces were deployed in response to Princess Constance. The real concern was that he wasn¡¯t sure whether it would be wiser to inform all the other Princes about the city, or try to keep it a secret held in reserve.


    News would inevitably find its way to all of them. Even if it wasn¡¯t known to Princess Constance, there was no way something that size could remain entirely unknown. However, there could be an advantage both in breaking it early, to offset actions taken by the others elsewhere, and in keeping it quiet for as long as possible.


    He grimaced. He would likely need to be the one to break the news, if only to deny the advantage of doing so to Princess Constance in the process. The entire situation was a mess. With Princess Aenor currently favoured for the position of First Prince, he didn¡¯t want to suddenly have to turn his attention away from the southern border, for fears of her biting at the time. She had the largest coalition backing her, and was the one most likely to cause problems.


    When scrambling for power in the halls of the highest assembly, having an unexpected monster climb out from under his chair like this was not a surprise that he wanted. If it had appeared elsewhere, under one of his rival¡¯s chairs, then he would have felt more comfortable. At that point, it would have only presented an opportunity. But it had appeared in his own lands, which meant the other Princes were eyeing him, and that made it a weakness as well. He had to worry about whether feeding the monster was a mistake, and if it would decide to eat him.


    Finally, having come to a conclusion, he gave the orders. He would ride out and investigate the city. After he had seen it with his own eyes, he would decide what to do with it himself.


    <hr>


    Princess Constance smiled, the gift that had dropped into her lap seemingly from the heavens presented an opportunity she had no choice but to seize. When she had declared regency in Salia and the other Princes had laughed as they left the chamber, she had sworn to herself she would see herself seated as First Prince. Nine years of war later and she was tired to the bone.


    She currently had the support of Prince Amidis among others, although she suspected that he was conspiring with Princess Aenor as well. That was, however, how these games were played. So long as she stuck to a narrow enough path, she could thread this needle and come out the other side.


    Which was why the report she had just received had come as such a pleasant surprise. The original copy had been sent to Prince Arsene. If the initial report provided to Lady Lassier had not faced a request for verification, it was likely she would not have seen it until it was too late to act. She had long since bought out the person responsible for processing such requests. Very rarely, something would land on their desk which was of critical importance, but hadn¡¯t seen itself elevated to the Lady herself. The position itself did not face enough scrutiny that she couldn¡¯t replace it with one of her own men, and thus sometimes it gave her an edge.


    This was the perfect opportunity for her to finally get the best of Prince Arsene. The reports of the city that was found made for an opening far too tempting to ignore. If he was forced to act early, he would feel compelled to investigate himself, which would provide a chance for her to strike.


    She arranged for information to be leaked to one of his known spies, allowing them to ¡°discover¡± that she was planning an organized raid into his territory to claim spoils from the site. That would provide him with all the incentive he needed to leave the safety of his walls.


    In reality, she would head out with an army of four thousand strong. She would need to consult with her sharper military minds. Moving this many soldiers around without Arsene catching on would be difficult, especially considering they would need to be supplied. If she succeeded here, though, she would be using a rare opportunity to finally pull out a perpetual thorn in her side.


    She would ride the Ebb and the Flow all the way to the seat of the First Prince, or she would die trying.


    <hr>


    The city which was slowly appearing over the edge of the horizon strained the limits of belief. Towers that reached up and seemed to touch the sky, stranded in the wilderness. If he was not here, Prince Arsene would discount the entire affair as farcical.


    A quarter of an hour later and he gave the orders for his forces to set up camp. It was just past noon, and they were close enough to make out finer details. Over two thousand troops, all brought out, because some Praesi prick decided to play god somewhere in his principality. A force this large necessitated complicated logistics, which weren¡¯t made any easier by the presence of camp followers.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    After consulting with one of his wizards, he was told they couldn¡¯t detect any hostile magics waiting for them. That surprised him. The Praesi were known for enchanting absolutely everything they could. They would coat a city like this from foundation to rooftop in magics, just because they had the means to do so.


    He issued commands for the scouts to head out and gather intelligence on their destination, and sent some sorcerers along with them. Better to play it safe and be sure, then be caught unaware. Then he settled in to wait. Two hours later, the first of those scouts started to trickle back in. Aside from a rough outline on the actual layout of the city, news on Princess Constance forces had been provided.


    She had sent just over a thousand troops of her own, all cavalry, and they were camped on the opposite side. Definitely a raiding force, as his informant had suggested.


    After consulting with his strategists on the matter, they recommended moving in and seizing the place in advance. The buildings were tall and if they scaled them on the inside, they could rain dwarvern crossbow bolts down on the enemy forces from above when they approached. By making strategic use of choke points, they could minimize losses and turn the battle into the kind of one-sided slaughter that would serve as a warning to Princess Constance about why she should stick to her own lands.


    They would need to send in an advance force first. Decamping entirely without first establishing a stronger ground presence would be a poor idea.


    The city itself proved to be more intriguing. Initial reports described what sounded to be manhole covers similar in nature to the ones in Ater. After a scout had gone to the effort of removing one of them, they had been puzzled to find that rather than there being an elaborate sewer system below, instead there was a hard ground surface.


    That provided more evidence to support both the Praesi wizard theory and the teleporation theory. This was further backed up by what looked to be the remains of some sort of Praesi summoning ritual.


    The fact that none of the wizards he had sent out had detected any enchantments, however, spoke to the opposite. The idea that the Praesi could, or even would, build something on this scale without branding it with their signature magics was so out of character for them as to border on absurd.


    No news had come out of the East mentioning the construction of such marvels, though, which was a major concern. If they were operating on such a large scale and successfully preventing intelligence of it from making its way out West, then the Calamities were a far greater threat than they were already considered to be. The matter would need to be raised at the Highest Assembly at his earliest convenience.


    If the civil war continued for much longer and Praes was allowed to develop unchecked, it would threaten the security of the Principate.


    No matter, that was a task for later. After he had his men form up into ranks, he gave the orders to march. It was best to seize the opportunity now.


    They arrived in the city and began to make their way down the empty, snow covered streets. The quiet of the place was unsettling. A place this grand should be filled with the clamour of people hawking their wares or merely moving from one place to another. They drew close to the centre of the anomaly, the point with the ritual circle, which stood under the shadow of the largest building around.


    His commanders started issuing orders. Sending squads to occupy select buildings, with the intention of having infantry holding the narrow approaches.


    That was when everything started to go awry.


    Crossbow bolts started to rain down on them from the buildings above. The enemy commanders had apparently seized upon the same idea and had time to set it into motion before him.


    The entire city was a trap.


    They could risk trying to push forward and scale the buildings, turning the trap back onto the enemy, but they didn¡¯t know how many troops Princess Constance had actually sent in here. They also didn¡¯t know how much time she had spent preparing to mount a defence. If he made the wrong call, it could cost him his Principality.


    Bitterly, he swallowed his pride and called the retreat.


    They started pulling back in as orderly a manner as possible, whilst being peppered with crossbow fire from above. As they were approaching the exit, the next part of his foes scheme made itself known.


    The force of a thousand cavalry which had been camped on the opposite side had circled around and were sacking their camp.


    They must have been signalled somehow when we made our approach.


    They quickened their pace, heading back fast. By the time they had arrived, the enemy forces had already pulled out, leaving their camp a mess. Distantly, Prince Arsene realized it had all been far too neat, too well organized. As if his foe had arranged the entire affair from start to finish.


    Most likely, that meant that his informant had either switched allegiances or was compromised.


    Their supplies had been either seized or put to torch. This was friendly territory, which meant he and his men could, in theory, go a day or two without anything to eat, provided they all pulled out. Resupplying could be done elsewhere, and there were no shortages of rivers providing water to drink.


    The problem was it meant ceding this fight to Princess Constance and with it, the prize. More and more, however, that looked to be the way this fiasco was headed. Casualty reports had come in, and they had lost just under a hundred men, with not a single strike landing on an enemy to show for it.


    Those were the kinds of losses that could break an army.


    He was just about to start issuing orders when a scene out of myths and legends lit up the sky. His heart dropped and for the first time in his life, Prince Arsene felt truly humbled.


    <hr>


    Princess Constance had to make a conscious effort to maintain her poise as she watched the battlefield from many floors up in the sky. The best case hadn¡¯t materialized and Prince Arsene had pulled out early, preventing himself from being truly beaten. He would live to see another day, but the prize was still hers for the taking.


    And it was an even greater prize than anyone had initially thought. Her engineers and wizards had been studying samples taken from all over the city. From their excited ramblings, none of the construction here had been performed at the hands of sorcery. That meant that with a sufficient understanding of the natural sciences, her engineers could see all of it reproduced. It would take them some time and effort, but eventually progress would be made.


    She watched as Prince Arsene¡¯s forces made their way back to the remnants of their camp in defeat. This would serve as a lesson for him, a reminder as to why it was she who should claim the position of First Prince.


    That was when everything began to go wrong.


    The sky darkened above and hundreds, no thousands of metal contraptions, blocked out the light of the sun. Then something began to fall from them. Black rain, coming down from above. The first of the projectiles touched one of the buildings roofs and then detonated.


    And more of them continued to fall.


    She had thought that the Gnomes were just a myth. A fable to tell children about the hubris of reaching too high. Hastily, she ordered the evacuation, joining in the retreat herself.


    It was a nightmare straight out of the blackest of Praesi hells.


    The detonations continued unabated, the ground shaking beneath her feet as more explosives continued to fall. Shrapnel danced through the air and as she continued to run, she had a far closer look than she would like at the city¡¯s collapse.


    Thump, thump, thump went her feet on the floor below her. Thump, thump, thump went her heart. She was panting, sweat ran down her forehead as she threw herself down another flight of stairs.


    Suddenly she was tumbling through the air.


    Her arm struck a railing, bent at an angle that arms were not supposed to bend. Suppressing a whimper of pain, she pulled herself to her feet and pressed on. The world was spinning. She felt lightheaded. Why were those spots dancing in front of her eyes?


    The floor she was on seemed to tilt, and suddenly gravity agreed that the wall was the way down. Why all of this? Why her?


    A deep despair filled her as she fell, and then the darkness took her.


    <hr>


    Half an hour later, Prince Arsene and his forces found themselves the only survivors. All of them stood solemnly, looking on at the blackened crater occupying the space that had once been claimed by a city from myths and legends.


    It seemed fitting, that foes from myths and legends had come to see it buried.


    Barring the cavalry, Princess Constance¡¯s forces had been killed to a man, and yet he could not find it in him to call this a victory. This was a fight where everyone had lost. He didn¡¯t know if she herself had been on this field, if she had, she was almost certainly among those who had been buried.


    There would be stories told of this day, although what nuggets of wisdom would be drawn from them, only time could tell. The scene he was seeing was one that was forever branded into his mind. A lesson he would not forget. For all the Principate¡¯s vaunted pride, they were still like ants as to giants compared to the greater powers in Creation.


    There were forces out there that could kill them all at a whim, and it was best to leave those monsters alone.

 Verism 2.00

    ¡°An efficient bureaucracy is one of the greatest tools of Evil. That¡¯s why when invading Praes, you kill the functionaries first.¡±


    ¨C Queen Elizabeth Alban of Callow


    <hr>


    The early light of dawn was peaking over the horizon by the time we called to a halt. I was sore in all the wrong places and exhausted as well. The temptation to try experimenting with modifying my own body rose up in response to the pain, but I squashed it mercilessly. I wasn¡¯t sure what it would do to me, and the consequences of a poor outcome would be dire. I would leave that until I was more sure of what exactly I could do.


    Right before we left, we had packed what we could in as brief a time as possible. Olivier, no, Roland, wanted to leave as quickly as he could.


    Despite my general exhaustion, I felt more alive than I had in months. I had a duty. Keeping Roland alive. He wanted to play hero and I would help him learn the ropes. It would give me something to strive towards until I found a goal of my own.


    We were preparing to set up camp on the slope of a mountain east of Beaumarais. Maxime had started a fire, and I was cooking a stew over the flames. The others were setting up sort of makeshift shelter. Now that we had come to a stop, I had some questions that needed to be answered.


    ¡°So Olivier-¡±


    ¡°Roland,¡± he corrected me firmly.


    It wouldn¡¯t actually change anything in Beaumarais, but¡­ if it makes him happy.


    ¡°So Roland, where is it exactly you plan for us to head?¡± I asked.


    He frowned in contemplation. ¡°For now, I wish to depart Procer for Callow. While there, we will do our best not to draw untoward attention.¡± He replied.


    I didn¡¯t have a good picture of the local politics or geography. I had only been in Calernia for four months. Most of my efforts had been spent learning to talk to people, as well as developing the one marketable skill that I had. With that being said, it was hard not to pick up some details in idle conversation.


    ¡°That¡¯s the place currently occupied by the Empire, inhabited by Evil diabolists who summon demons and devils, right?¡± I inquired.


    The idea seemed absurd. From what I heard, they even called their standing army the Legions of Terror. It was almost surprising that they weren¡¯t ruled over by a dark lord who could only be killed by throwing a ring into the fires of Mount Doom.


    ¡°About nine years ago, during what is now known as the Conquest, Praes marched the Legions of Terror across the Field of Streges and conquered Callow. All the Princes were too busy sniffing at each other¡¯s asses trying to work out who should rule the Principate to bother intervening.¡± Max explained.


    ¡°They are ruled over by the Calamities at the moment, correct?¡± I gave the broth a stir.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, Taylor,¡± Max confirmed.


    ¡°The people with a reputation for killing every hero who sets foot into the area?¡±


    Roland, I noticed, was avoiding looking at me now.


    ¡°Those would be the ones, yes.¡± Max agreed. I noticed he was suppressing a grin. I suspected he knew where I was going with this.


    ¡°So what part of that makes you think that heading there is a good idea, Roland?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I did suggest that accompanying me on my travels would be fraught with peril-¡± Roland started.


    ¡°We know it¡¯s dangerous,¡± I interrupted him. ¡°I want to know why you chose to come to Callow and not somewhere else in Procer.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t convinced that entering this place was the smartest idea.


    ¡°After the events in Beaumarais, the House of Light will have questions for me which I do not wish to answer. Whilst they still have a presence in Callow, their influence is much weaker than it would be if we remained within the Principate.¡± He replied.


    ¡°I bet Olivier hasn¡¯t even figured out how we are going to get past the border without drawing attention.¡± Max added.


    ¡°Roland,¡± Roland insisted.


    ¡°Alright Olivier,¡± Max needled him. I gave Max a flat look.


    ¡°Fine, Roland, since it makes Taylor happy,¡± he deflated. I returned my attention to the pot.


    I let the topic of conversation change.


    ¡°Is the border heavily guarded?¡± I gave the broth a taste. It wasn¡¯t great. With what little we had brought along with us, though, it would have to do.


    ¡°Tighter than a whore¡¯s purse.¡± Max said cheerfully. ¡°They have border fortresses guarding every available pass.¡±


    ¡°And they would really take note of only three people?¡± I asked doubtfully.


    ¡°Three people with horses that all have the gift for sorcery? Maybe one wizard on foot wouldn¡¯t attract notice, but not three.¡± Max explained.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t going to enter Callow without at least being seen then.¡±


    ¡°So we leave the horses once we are closer and then try to sneak past on foot.¡± Roland proposed.


    ¡°Kid, if we¡¯re caught trying to sneak in, it will be a whole different kind of trouble.¡± Max replied.


    The two of them continued passing suggestions back and forth. Invisibility was out, we didn¡¯t know if the border fortresses had wards against it. They didn¡¯t know how to teleport, and the books Roland had hinted that it was impractically expensive anyhow. I suspected I could pull it off, but without being able to see my destination, I was worried about ending up dead ten feet underground. I listened with one ear as I stirred the pot.


    Suddenly, I struck upon an idea. It was bold and took refuge in audacity. Roland didn¡¯t like it. Maxime approved of it from when I first suggested it, though. He laughed as if it was the best joke he had heard in a month.


    <hr>


    The day we arrived at one of the border forts, the weather was absolutely foul. Were it a little worse, you could swim while standing up. Fortunately, my plan didn¡¯t call for subtlety. The outer walls were nothing more elaborate than what looked to be twenty feet of rock stacked on top of each other. There were no bastions or towers. The place was truly bare.


    We approached the walls openly, warded against the downpour by a spell maintained by Maxime. To anyone looking on, it was clear sorcery was in use. The gate we were heading towards was open, although the guards stationed at it seemed to want to be almost anywhere else.


    Somewhat disappointingly, the rain made it too difficult to properly make them out. A childish part of me wanted to see what genuine Legions of Terror looked like.


    There will always be another opportunity.


    As we passed through, we were led by a surly looking man towards a small office on the other side.


    Stepping out of the downpour, it was almost uncanny how quiet it was once we were inside. There was an old man with dark skin and a bald head seated behind a desk. He looked up dourly as we entered. In the corner of the room sat a young, fair skinned girl smoking a pipe. She looked to be my age.


    He muttered something in a language I didn¡¯t speak under his breath. I¡¯d bet he was complaining about the time of our arrival.


    My hand tapped the side of my leg nervously. The nervous tick frustrated me. I found myself doing it often. Before I arrived in Calernia, it would never have been a problem.


    I wish I still had my swarm.


    ¡°Girlie here doesn¡¯t speak Lower Miezan,¡± Max pointed his thumb back at me.


    He took a piece of paper from a pile on his desk and placed it in front of him. If I still had my glasses, I would have been able to read it from where I was. ¡°Name and place of origin,¡± he stated in Chantant, without looking up.


    ¡°Maxime Redflame, from Apenun.¡±


    ¡°Roland, from Beaumarais.¡±


    ¡°Taylor¡­¡± I hesitated.


    ¡°From where?¡± He sounded like he was pulling out teeth when he asked.


    ¡°¡­ from nowhere in particular.¡± I finished.


    He paused his recording there and looked up at me. ¡°If you want to be let in, you¡¯re going to need to tell me where you came from.¡±


    I realized it didn¡¯t matter if I told them the truth. They had no way to verify it, and it would mean nothing to them.


    ¡°Brockton Bay, the United States of America. It¡¯s all meaningless to you,¡± I answered in English.


    ¡°She¡¯s not from Calernia,¡± Maxime interjected, grinning at the man.


    The man harrumphed in response. ¡°Reason for entry?¡±


    ¡°Roland summoned six dozen undead in Beaumarais. The House of Light took issue with it,¡± I explained.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean for it to happen,¡± Roland protested.


    ¡°Of course,¡± the man muttered. ¡°It¡¯s always an accident. They never mean to. The demon was surely there all along. Diabolists are all the same when their plan inevitably fails.¡±


    He turned to look at the girl and asked her something to her in Lower Meizan. She performed a complicated gesture, grabbed a knife at her left side, and then slit the palm of her hand. A spell manifested that I didn¡¯t recognize. She said something back to him in reply.


    His eyes sharpened and he looked up at us.


    ¡°Right, all three of you have the gift, although-¡± he bent down to consult his papers, ¡°-Taylor here is somewhat of an anomaly, being from off the continent. This process just became a bit more involved. So I repeat, reason for entry.¡±


    ¡°Escaping religious persecution,¡± I explained.


    ¡°All three of you?¡± He inquired.


    ¡°Roland summoned the zombies. He was our direct superior. The House of Light doesn¡¯t take kindly to that where we came from.¡±


    ¡°Right. In the event that you believe that the Dread Empire of Praes allows practitioners to freely summon up whatever creatures they like, allow me to disabuse you of that notion. We have strict laws here about what can and can¡¯t be done.¡± He reached across the desk to his right and picked up a book. Opening it, he turned to a specific page and then pushed it across to us.


    I leaned in and picked it up. It was a list of laws involving magic. Details on who could and could not own a mage tower, bans on the sale of magical texts and restrictions placed on the summoning of devils and demons. There were other laws as well. Lists of which enchanted goods were allowed to be produced. Lists vaguely detailing what types of learning were restricted. Most of the laws we had no intention to break. The laws went on for multiple pages and took a while to read through. After I finished reading, I passed it to Roland.


    ¡°We won¡¯t fuck with those laws,¡± Maxime said, when he was done reading.


    ¡°See that you follow them, or you will die.¡± The man replied.


    The questions continued. Slowly, the man built a profile on us. Half an hour later and we were done. We were cleared to enter Callow. We climbed back on our horses and left.


    When we set up camp for the night, we put up protective wards in the event of eavesdropping. Then, Roland finally allowed his incredulity to seep through. ¡°We admitted to guilt for the events in Beaumarais, and they just let us through.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that surprising when you think about it,¡± I stated.


    ¡°Girlie¡¯s right, Roland. The Empire doesn¡¯t care whose daughter you fucked in Procer, so long as you don¡¯t piss in their breakfast too. Being seen as just another wizard with more ambition than sense is simply fitting in here.¡±


    ¡°Reputation matters a lot to villains,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°And you have sufficient experience to call upon with villains, then?¡± Roland asked skeptically.


    I debated what I wanted to tell him. After a while, I made my decision. If I was going to be travelling with him for a while, he would need to know something about me.


    ¡°Sure. I was a villain first before I switched and became a hero. Then I lost my Name before I ended up here.¡± I explained.


    It wasn¡¯t exactly true but¡­ Max had already heard something like it, so I may as well keep my story straight.


    ¡°I was under the impression you served as a soldier,¡± he replied dubiously.


    ¡°When I told you that, I barely spoke a word of Chantant.¡±


    ¡°And how long were you one of the Chosen for?¡± He inquired.


    ¡°About two yearsHeroes and villains were different where I came from, though. My experience will differ from yours,¡± I warned.


    ¡°How did they differ?¡±


    How to answer? heroism here compared to heroism on Bet really were two very different beasts. I didn¡¯t want to give him the wrong idea.


    ¡°heroes in my homeland weren¡¯t expected to win,¡± I began.


    Both Maxime and Roland stilled at that.


    ¡°There were more than twice as many villains as heroes. Even though all the heroes banded together in one team, they lost more often than they won. This is despite the fact the villains all fought among each other as well.¡± I explained.


    ¡°How many of Heaven¡¯s Chosen were there?¡± Roland asked.


    ¡°Hundreds.¡±


    ¡°And how big were the sticks they swung around, Girlie?¡± Max butted in.


    ¡°Keep in mind, my opinion is based on what I have seen so far, and I could be wrong,¡± I warned.


    ¡°To expect otherwise would be a folly,¡± Roland agreed.


    ¡°Well then, there is no point to even compare heroes.¡± I stated.


    ¡°And why is that Girlie?¡±


    ¡°Because our normal soldiers had weapons strong enough to kill everyone on Calernia over the course of an afternoon.¡± I poked at the fire with a stick absently. An awkward silence fell in the wake of my declaration.


    Finally, Roland broke it. ¡°What manner of weapons could achieve that?¡±


    How do I explain planes?


    ¡°We had machines that could fly. They could travel from one side of Calernia to the other in a matter of hours. Some of them carried explosives. They could be dropped on cities from high up in the air. Since my arrival, I haven¡¯t seen anything which could stop them.¡± I finished.


    Roland looked sceptical, Maxime looked subdued.


    ¡°You¡¯re no Gnome, Taylor. They¡¯re just stories.¡± Roland stated.


    I didn¡¯t even know what Gnomes were, but it didn¡¯t really matter. I didn¡¯t need to convince them, it wasn¡¯t like I was going to reinvent planes anyhow. So long as they trusted me to stick with them, I was satisfied. So I changed the subject.


    ¡°So, the reason that reputation is so important for villains is that you have far more enemies. You need to be seen as unbeatable, even though you aren¡¯t.¡± I began.


    ¡°And how does that perception matter?¡± Roland asked.


    ¡°Because you aren¡¯t unbeatable.¡±


    ¡°This is something that people are all aware of.¡± Roland responded.


    ¡°There is a difference between knowing and knowing.¡± I argued. ¡°Even if everyone knows that the enemy isn¡¯t unbeatable, if there is even a seed of doubt, then many opportunists won¡¯t act. As a villain, this gives you a measure of safety. Your reputation alone prevents many foes from taking the chance to strike.¡±


    ¡°Girlie¡¯s right,¡± Max murmured.


    I smiled. I was about to thank him for his support when he continued.


    ¡°She has her head screwed on properly when it comes to fighting. Just ignore all of her relationship advice,¡± he finished.


    Well, that was just rude.


    ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s part of the reason why it doesn¡¯t surprise me. We will be seen as just another group of overly ambitious necromancers coming to perform experiments that would be illegal elsewhere. Long-term, it probably even helps us stay safe,¡± I explained.


    ¡°How does attracting attention keep us safe?¡± Roland asked, sceptically.


    ¡°You told me they would investigate us. If they looked into Beaumarais after we left, then we were always going to attract attention. This way it¡¯s not the wrong kind of attentionHeroes get killed here. Necromancers who keep their heads down don¡¯t.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The easy-going banter continued for half an hour or so. We continued to debate the merits of the method of our entry. It was nice.


    Roland turned in for the night not long after.


    I was sitting on a rock at the edge of our camp, watching the clouds above, when Max sat down next to me.


    ¡°You should stop with the foreplay and share your story for real, Taylor.¡± He murmured.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I deflected.


    What had I given away?


    ¡°Just because I was a drunk, doesn¡¯t mean I had my head up my own ass.¡± He curled his left hand into a fist in front of him.


    ¡°You always wait to be invited in when penetrating a threshold.¡± He raised his index finger.


    ¡°You asked me about the Gods Above as if you didn¡¯t believe they existed at all.¡± The middle finger came next.


    ¡°You have the gift, but you aren¡¯t actually using it. You¡¯re teasing Creation using will alone.¡± Up went the ring finger.


    ¡°You fed me a story involving Tyrants, Dragons, Demons, Dark gods, and Chancellors. It can¡¯t be anything recent, and it doesn¡¯t fit any history I know.¡± The thumb stuck out.


    ¡°And lastly, you were found in a ritual circle, in a place so exotic that nobody has seen its like before.¡± He finished with the little finger, then looked at me expectantly.


    ¡°We know you aren¡¯t from Calernia Taylor, but it¡¯s clear that you¡¯re not from Creation at all.¡±


    A sense of dread had seized me with every finger he raised. I tapped my leg absently while I framed my response.


    ¡°If I wasn¡¯t from Creation, what would it mean exactly?¡± I asked.


    He snorted.


    ¡°You¡¯re worrying yourself too much about the wrong problem and not dealing with the shaved bear in the brothel. I can guess what¡¯s worrying you. You read our stories about known creatures from beyond Creation. Now you¡¯re thinking about what they mean to you.¡± He stated.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know any stories that start with inviting a Devil into your house that end with a happily ever after,¡± I told him.


    ¡°You¡¯re reading the wrong kinds of stories, then,¡± he grinned at me wickedly.


    In spite of the vulgarity, I smiled a little.


    ¡°I bet whoever summoned you here was thinking that too,¡± he continued to joke.


    ¡°Ew, no.¡± I protested firmly.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been so far up shit creek that I ran into a demonor Devil. Most people never are. Nobody is fucked enough in the head to mistake you for one, though.¡± He stated.


    ¡°Why is that?¡± Aside from Angels and the Fae, they were the only extradimensional entities I had read about.


    ¡°Because if you were a demonor Devil, Beaumarais would have been sent to the hells the long before I worked it out,¡± he paused.


    I felt like there was probably a flaw in that logic, but I wasn¡¯t going to look for it.


    ¡°However, that still isn¡¯t the problem that¡¯s going to steal your knickers, Taylor.¡± He turned his head my way, locking his gaze with mine.


    ¡°So what do you think I should be concerned about then?¡± I challenged.


    ¡°Think, Taylor. You¡¯re travelling with a hero in a story and keeping a secret from him. When does the secret come out?¡± He replied.


    ¡°At the worst possible moment.¡± I answered dubiously. I was aware of how strongly the locals believed their stories. That didn¡¯t mean I bought into them.


    He shook his head.


    ¡°You still don¡¯t understand it, do you. Well, here is something you might believe. We¡¯re heading into lands controlled by Praes. The place that is known for its mastery of magic. It¡¯s certain that someone here will recognize you for whatever you are. Whoever they are, they won¡¯t care to just let you travel around.¡± He explained.


    That gave me pause.


    He was right about the people here. In Procer, magic was reviled. In Praes it was apparently coveted. I had been so caught up in worrying about how Roland might cause problems for us that I never considered myself.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I told Max seriously.


    ¡°Make sure you think fast then. The boy needs to know. Ideally, before we get into a fight with a diabolist, and they chain you down with wards.¡± He declared.


    And I did think about it. I didn¡¯t make a decision then as I stared up into the clouds. Instead, I thought about all the difficulties that lay ahead. Callow was pushing the limits of what was safe for me. Praes would be off limits entirely. It bothered me that I hadn¡¯t even considered that aspect of our safety when we decided to come here.


    Maybe I was even more lost than I thought.


    <hr>


    We were on the road for a while before we eventually arrived in Ankou. It was my first time since being found by Roland that I had seen a proper city. It was both bigger and smaller than I expected. The city seemed to sprawl out, as if it had grown over time rather than been planned. Most of the buildings only had a single floor and had slanted slate roofs.


    Shortly after our arrival, we sold our horses and rented a place to stay. It was frustrating being in a land where I once again didn¡¯t speak the local language. Considering we were planning to stay for a while, I had time to learn. For a while we lived simply. Maxime and I would pay people to bring us herbs, then profit off of the potions we made. Roland would sell enchanted wares that weren¡¯t banned or restricted. Farming implements and household tools that didn¡¯t rust.


    In addition, the two of them offered their services as healers. I would have tried to do the same, except I didn¡¯t know the human body well enough to have a hope in hell of pulling it off.


    The plan was for us to keep our heads low and escape notice. To solve problems without drawing attention. I had stopped experimenting with new powers for a while, simply because I didn¡¯t know if what I was doing could be detected. I also didn¡¯t know how closely we were being watched. Better to play it safe for now, rather than see us all dead.


    I had been told that the Eyes of the Empire were always watching. I didn¡¯t know how true that was, but it was best to be cautious nonetheless. The threat of ever present watchers hanging over my back made me very aware of my need to be invited into residences. It was even more frustrating than before.


    It almost felt like we were back at the tower in the Knightsgrave. There were some differences though. The only books on magic we had were the ones we had carried with us. In order to learn more, Olivier was forced to resort to experimentation. The ban on the sale of magical treatises was absolute. We couldn¡¯t learn more on magic without enrolling with the Legions of Terror. None of us were keen on that.


    The diversity in species was what took the longest for me to adjust to. Orcs were real here. Big, bulky, with green skin and large teeth. Not only were they real, but they walked the streets of Ankou as part of the Legions of Terror. Goblins and Ogres existed as well, I just hadn¡¯t seen one yet.


    Early into our arrival, a local gang tried to intimidate us into paying for protection money. After they had been incapacitated and handed off to the guards, we weren¡¯t bothered like that again. The guards asked me to please be more careful when defending myself in future. Sending them running away covered in bruises was not considered acceptable.


    It had taken me effort to suppress the laugh.


    Roland and Maxime had given me a crash course on Callow¡¯s history. The Black Knight had literally crucified people who disagreed with him during the conquest. I hadn¡¯t seen anything like that happening so far during my stay. If I had, I certainly wouldn¡¯t have been able to sit by and just let it happen.


    A month into our stay and the news of Princess Constance¡¯s death arrived. It was late evening. The three of us were hunched together around a table at one of the nearby inns. Then we heard the news. A city in the middle of nowhere, fought over by two Proceran Princes. Then the sky above was darkened by metal as the bombs began to drop.


    At the news of the deaths, many of the locals began to cheer. The casual disregard for life here made me wish for Earth Bet once more. I had killed people, but I hadn¡¯t done it because I enjoyed it. It was just something that needed to be done. What was there to be happy about this anyhow? Two fighting armies were annihilated to the last man because they went digging through the remains of a modern city. It was like they were cheering at the boot pressing down on their necks.


    The civil war had briefly stalled into a lull. Prince Dagobert and Princess Aenor had allegedly called for a temporary cessation of hostilities while the matter was debated in the Highest Assembly.


    At that, the cheers died down.


    We paid and left shortly afterwards.


    My emotions were a complicated mess. I was upset, my anger was dark and undirected. There wasn¡¯t a good outlet for it. I had heard more about the Gnomes since the first time Roland mentioned them to me. An unseen force, keeping the people of Calernia in the mud. Learn too much, and they would erase you from existence.


    People considered them to be myths, so I had dismissed them as unimportant. Knowing they were real strongly changed how I felt. I didn¡¯t know what to do about them, or even if anything could be done about them. They were a significantly more advanced foreign nation, dictating how everyone on Calernia lived. It was unlikely I would ever have the power to do anything about it, but¡­ I knew that if I ever found myself in a position where I could contest them, that I would do something.


    I didn¡¯t even understand the point of what they did. What benefit was there to keeping down an entire continent of people that are almost certain to one day rebel against you?


    Regardless, their presence meant that I needed to be careful. I didn¡¯t want responsibility for a place being blown up, simply because I said too much. I didn¡¯t even really know what counted as too much. In the aftermath, Roland and Maxime took my stories far more seriously. It didn¡¯t surprise me.


    We left Ankou shortly after. We purchased mules and a wagon, and then set out on the road once more.


    It was four months into our time in Callow when we stumbled upon our first major problem.


    We were stopping over in a small town between Ankou and Hedges in the Callowan heartland. We had rented rooms at one of the Inns and were planning to stay for a week before we moved on. A day into our stay, a family stumbled in.


    The husband carried a small girl in his arms. She looked to be six years old and was frail, sickly. Her pale skin was clearly soaked in sweat. What I guessed to be his wife was clutching his arms tightly as they came in.


    ¡°You¡¯re the travelling Wizards?¡± The wife asked nervously.


    ¡°That we are. Do you require our assistance?¡± Roland replied.


    By unspoken agreement, he was usually the face of the group when dealing with customers. He was more approachable. I was the face of the group when dealing with threats.


    ¡°It¡¯s our daughter, she hasn¡¯t woken up for two days. Nothing we do works. We think that she¡¯s sick. Can you try to heal her, please?¡± She pleaded.


    Wordlessly, we made space on the table. The barkeep looked at us sourly as we did so, but said nothing. After half of an hour of trying to heal the girl, both Roland and Maxime looked like they had swallowed a lemon. The parents looked on nervously as they worked.


    ¡°It is not within our means to heal her. What ails her isn¡¯t an illness.¡± Roland told them, sombrely.


    ¡°What do you mean? It¡¯s obvious that she¡¯s sick!¡± The husband shouted out angrily.


    ¡°Somebody has pulled her soul out from her body. Physically, she is fine.¡± Roland explained.


    ¡°You mean some diabolist did this to her?¡± The man said, his voice hoarse.


    ¡°That is the likely explanation.¡±


    ¡°Can you do anything about this?¡± The wife asked.


    ¡°I would talk this over with my companions and then speak with you on the matter in the morning.¡± Roland declared.


    They left soon after, having told us where they lived when they did. We made our way to the rooms we were renting, and then Maxime put up a ward. The space in a single room was cramped and there wasn¡¯t enough seating for all of us. So we sat huddled together on the floor.


    ¡°We have a problem,¡± I began.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a big one.¡± Maxime agreed.


    A ¡°Problem¡± is how we referred to any difficulty that specifically involved Roland¡¯s Name. So far, nothing major had happened. He helped to resolve small issues. Solving disputes between locals was the extent of his heroism.


    This was a notable step up. If we weren¡¯t careful, we would draw the Calamities'' attention depending on what we did.


    ¡°Someone pulled the kid¡¯s soul right out of her body. That makes this a murder,¡± Maxime began.


    ¡°The child is not dead yet,¡± Roland stated firmly.


    ¡°She¡¯s missing her soul, she¡¯s as dead as Callow¡¯s royalty.¡± Maxime replied.


    ¡°We do not know what manner of use her soul has been put to, but if it has not been used to fuel a working yet, it could still be restored.¡± Roland continued to argue.


    Max and I did not protest the statement, even if we both found it to be unlikely.


    ¡°This is a small community, with just under a thousand residents at most. The Praesi presence is barely felt here. The local militia does not have the talent to handle a problem like this. We should claim this cause as our own.¡± Roland suggested.


    I was sorely tempted to agree. When I had decided to follow Roland, I had not expected him to truly keep his head down. He was much more level-headed than I thought. The amount of inaction we were experiencing was making me restless.


    ¡°Where do we start investigating?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re going along with this girlie?¡± Maxime looked surprised.


    ¡°Roland¡¯s right, we are best suited for this.¡± I argued.


    ¡°Tomorrow we should split up. The town is small, we can cover it more easily. We¡¯re looking for signs of magic use, possibly diabolism.¡± Roland mused.


    ¡°One of the wenches downstairs mentioned a Praesi wizard living in a small house just outside the town. Achlys of Aksum.¡± Maxime added.


    ¡°She is the most likely actor,¡± Roland stated.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it will be her,¡± I said quietly.


    ¡°Why not Achlys of Aksum?¡± Roland inquired.


    ¡°She has lived here for a while. The locals all know she is here. If anything like this were to happen, she knows she is the first person who will be blamed.¡± I explained.


    ¡°Who could oppose her here, if she was at fault?¡±


    I thought it over. While it was true in the short term, nobody here could likely oppose her. My time in Callow had taught me that the Legions were not to be crossed. Come to their attention, and they would see her imprisoned before the day was out.


    It struck me then. I had spent so long not involved in an investigation like this that we were going about it the wrong way.


    ¡°We need to investigate the scene of the crime first,¡± I stated firmly. ¡°Talk to the parents, find out where the girl has been. Find out where she was found and who she has talked to. We also need to ask around about if any other similar deaths have occurred. Is this an isolated case, or part of a larger pattern.¡±


    Roland eyed me contemplatively. ¡°I take it you have some experience with this kind of investigation, then?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I acknowledged.


    ¡°I will liaise with the townsfolk then, you meet with her parents and Maxime can visit the witch. Are we all in accord?¡± Roland asked.


    We both gave our assent, then left to our respective rooms. The next day, we split up. I made my way towards a rather sad looking house right at the edge of the town. I knocked on the warped wooden door. Heartbeats later, I was greeted by the father.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you. Where¡¯s your friends.¡± His voice was surly and his face splotched. His eyes were red. It looked as if he had been crying.


    ¡°We split up. We are going to try to help. We think this was done deliberately, which means someone was behind it. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?¡±


    Grudgingly, the man let me in.


    I was pointed towards a rickety chair. He and his wife sat down opposite me. Then, I started to interview them.


    Where had their daughter been the past few weeks? The same places she always had been. Had she at any point been out of their sight? No, she hadn¡¯t. Was she acting any differently recently? She had been growing more and more tired for the past week, before she eventually no longer woke up. Had she met anyone new? No, she hadn¡¯t. The questions continued.


    I wasn¡¯t making any progress.


    I tried not to let the frustration get to me. The process reminded me of my time with the Wards. The same sets of procedures. The same lack of results.


    Eventually, on a whim, I asked to see the child¡¯s possessions.


    There wasn¡¯t much. She slept on a cot near her parents, in the same room. A wooden doll and a top. I felt a pang of sadness. My childhood had been a dream in comparison. The most notable item was a surreal portrait of the girl, with a castle behind her. It was well done, but as far as I could tell, there was nothing magical about it.


    When I asked about it, they told me they had paid a travelling artist for it. He had stopped by a month past and the price was cheap enough they found it worth the cost. Apparently he was staying until the start of Autumn, before moving on.


    With nothing to show for it, I left.


    I went out into the street looking for Roland. Hopefully he would have made more progress than I did. I couldn¡¯t find him. Eventually, I stopped at a stall selling ripe oranges.


    ¡°Do you know where my friend Roland went to. About this high, has brown eyes and hair, and wears a distinctive coat?¡± I asked, gesturing with my hand.


    ¡°Buy an orange, and I¡¯ll tell you,¡± the man said, snorting.


    I shrugged and did so.


    ¡°He was asking all of us some questions, then he out that way.¡± He pointed out of the town.


    There were a couple of derelict buildings in that direction, but not much else.


    Maybe he found a lead.


    Thanking the man, I headed to where he had pointed. I passed a couple of buildings, then slowed as a man called to me.


    I turned. He was short, only coming up to my chest. His features were wiry, with black hair going on grey, a goatee, and a toothbrush moustache. His teeth gleamed as he smiled at me. ¡°Miss, would you like to take a look at some of my paintings?¡±


    I was about to reject him offhand, but then I recalled the portrait owned by the victim. It had been well done. I was unlikely to buy one, but there was no danger in taking a look.


    Let¡¯s see what he has.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I agreed.


    He started to walk away, beckoning that I should follow. He had an exaggerated cheerfulness to him that put me on edge. The folds of his oil-stained patchwork clothing flapped around comically as he moved, and I was surprised he didn¡¯t trip himself in the process.


    We arrived at what looked to be a gypsy caravan. It was painted just as obnoxiously as he was.


    He opened the door to one side, then let the both of us in. It was a dingy, claustrophobic space with not much room to move. The fumes of oils were overpowering, and I found it difficult to breathe. Paintings were strewn from one side of the place to the other. Slowly, my eyes roamed, taking it all in.


    His art was exceptional.


    The first painting I looked at depicted a forest at twilight. Fireflies flickering in the leaves of trees, which were just starting to turn from green to gold. The forest floor was a mess of rich greens, reds, and browns. Lastly, peaking through the leaves of a bush the faint hint of bottle-green eyes could be seen, as well as the tail of a fox.


    I turned to the next painting.


    It was of a waterfall, flowing down the edge of a cliff and pooling in a lake at the bottom. The scene was dark, tranquil. I moved on.


    ¡°They¡¯re beautiful,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°My thanks. I truly do try to capture the essence of a place when I work,¡± the man smiled.


    Then my eyes fell on one more painting. It was a landscape. Part of a skyline I had seen before. Tall metal buildings reaching to the sky. Chicago, from my time during the Wards.


    Before I even realized it, I was walking towards it.


    ¡°Where did you see this?¡± I asked softly, my hands trailing along the edge of the canvas.


    ¡°In Procer. I was lucky enough to see this sight before the Gnomes burned it to the ground. I feel like it¡¯s missing an element, though.¡± He added.


    ¡°Really?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It is incomplete. Why don¡¯t you tell me what you think needs to be added?¡± He asked.


    I looked at the piece more critically.


    ¡°The streets are too empty. A city like this would always busy, at all hours of the day. No one person could ever claim a part of it for themselves. There would always be somebody with them, no matter where they went. You could never be alone.¡± I found myself answering.


    ¡°And so the city lacks its soul,¡± he agreed.


    I felt a sting in my arm. A prick, as if by needle. I turned around to complain, but saw that he wasn¡¯t beside me.


    Must have been an insect.


    ¡°Do you mind if I paint you into it?¡± he asked.


    The question caught me by surprise.


    ¡°You want to paint me into this?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I want to paint you into it? Doesn¡¯t the painting speak to you?¡±


    ¡°It reminds me of something,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°You want to buy it, correct? I can already tell.¡± He smiled at me as he said so.


    I thought about it for a moment and found to my surprise that it did. It was a piece of my past, frozen in time forever.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll buy it.¡±


    He took out an ornate wooden brush. It was covered with detailed engravings, and fine white hairs extended from the ferrule. Then, he began to work.


    It was mesmerizing to watch.


    I waited while he painted me into the foreground. His rendition of me was flattering, with fewer scars and a carefree smile on my face. Two hours later, and I left. I gingerly carried the painting with me, careful not to touch any of the still damp paint. After depositing it in our wagon, I decided to settle in and wait.


    That night, we met up again at the inn and discussed what we had found. Not much progress had been made. Roland had talked to the Townsfolk and learned there had been strange noises coming from the derelict houses. After investigating, it turned out to be an infestation of rats.


    Max had spoken to Achlys. She was a gregarious old woman who lived all on her own. She sold medicines to the locals, but otherwise seemed mostly harmless. We had made no progress so far.


    I showed them the painting. Roland said it made for a good purchase. A token reminder of my first day in Calernia. Max looked worried about something, but said nothing.


    Two more days passed while we were staying in the town. Two days of fruitless investigating and frustration was starting to mount. Aisling¡¯s parents were panicking, as it seemed like there was nothing that could be done.


    I found myself fatigued. I pushed on in spite of it. Exhaustion was not the worst problem I had dealt with, and we only had so much time to solve the problem before we would need to move on.


    On the eve of the second day, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a voice. It came from far off, as if it was echoing across a large body of water.


    ¡°You will make a marvellous painting.¡±


    ¡°Impart.¡±


    And then everything changed.

 Verism 2.01

    ¡°The safest way to negotiate with the Fae is through somebody else. That way, when they come to collect, you¡¯re not the one who has to pay the price.¡±


    ¨C ¡®Essences of the Fae¡¯, written by Madeline de Jolicoeur


    <hr>


    I found myself on the streets of Chicago. I was about a block away from the PRT building. The streets were unusually empty. It was nice, peaceful.


    Maybe I can have a part of the city to myself for once, just for today.


    I started to jog, going past the trees by the lake. Their leaves were a verdant green, the life of Summer bleeding through. I felt the early morning rays of the sun beating down upon my back, urging me forward. I smiled, it was pleasant.


    This is wrong.


    Why was I jogging? I didn¡¯t have anywhere I needed to be. I had always wanted to just take a day to sit by the lake and relax. Frowning, I slowed down, then came to a stop. The world was saved now, right? There was no schedule I needed to follow. The leash was gone, and I could finally rest on the shores.


    Slowly, I made my way to the edge of the lake and just sat down, enjoying the view. It was serene.


    This isn¡¯t me.


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re ready to go?¡± Theo asked half an hour later. He sounded impatient.


    ¡°Where to?¡± I replied, puzzled. I didn¡¯t recall needing to be anywhere.


    ¡°The celebration, of course. We did it.¡± He was grinning.


    ¡°What did we do?¡±


    ¡°We stopped Jack. Don¡¯t you remember? You were instrumental. You helped coordinate us all and cut off his escape with your Swarm.¡±


    This never happened.


    Something was wrong. I wasn¡¯t supposed to be here. I knew it. Deep inside of me, something was protesting that I should be somewhere else.


    ¡°Come on, let¡¯s go.¡± He urged.


    I stood up and followed him.


    We reached the PRT headquarters, one of two in Chicago. It was squat, broad, and not terribly pretty, but it sported a statue on the roof that had been paid for by an old member, Stardust.


    Standing outside was a crowd of people. In the faceless masses, I could see the faces of people I cared about. My dad, Lisa, Brian, Rachel. Everyone was here. They greeted me warmly and I was ushered inside. Apparently there was a celebration.


    The end of the world had been stopped, and those of us who had stepped up to do our part were being honoured for the part we played. Eidolon came up to speak.


    He should be dead.


    Why was he here? He died, didn¡¯t he, in the fight against Scion?


    The sky darkened and the people vanished. Clouds rolled in. The surrounding buildings decayed, crumbled, and then collapsed. There was a flash in the sky, then a rumble of thunder not long after. The rain began to fall.


    People started running away, panicked. The wind picked up, howling. In the distance, out on the open water, the vague silhouette of a wave could be seen approaching.


    I clenched my hands and reached out for my swarm. Maybe I could do something, help with search and rescue.


    I only have one hand.


    Where were Max and Roland? Why weren¡¯t they with me? This was wrong. This was all wrong!


    I reached out with my mind, my indignation made manifest, and pushed against the world. There was resistance, as if someone was contesting what I was doing. They didn¡¯t appear to be giving it much attention, though. It seemed almost like something they just passively maintained. A sharp pain wracked my head.


    That wasn¡¯t acceptable.


    Filled with determination, I shoved again, ignoring the pain. Something gave. The world around me shattered.


    I was in a forest, standing between two maple trees. The waning light of the sun broke through from above, casting dappled shadows on the crimson leaves below. I took a step forward, tilting my head and looking around. The leaves crunched underfoot and the chatter of birdsong stilled.


    Where had I seen this before?


    I took another step, a fox dashed out from behind a bush. It looked at me, sending a grin in my direction before turning away. Then it ran, disappearing between the trees. I reached down and picked up a long, reasonably straight, branch. Poking the ground ahead of me as I walked, I made my way in the direction of the sun. The hope was to find my way out.


    The sound of bells jingling in the distance distracted me. I stopped for a moment and listened. It was faint, almost imperceptible. Then I heard the baying of hounds. That meant there were probably people here. I should head that way.


    A painting. There was a painting like this.


    Suddenly, I panicked. Hounds, there were hounds coming. I ran, dashing between the leaves on my paws. I had my nose to the ground, my snout sniffing the trail ahead. My ears twitched as the riders drew close. I needed to move!


    Paws? I wasn¡¯t a fox.


    A moment of clarity. I rolled through the underbrush, landing on my stump. I suppressed a wince. Then, I climbed to my feet. Concentrating, I tried to keep my thoughts organized. I had gone to sleep, then woke up in a vision of Chicago. When I tried to escape the vision, I had ended up here.


    I remembered visiting a caravan and looking at the paintings inside. One of them was a landscape of Chicago, another was a forest in the woods.


    I was under the influence of some kind of master effect.


    The effect was subtle, it made it seem like ideas that were just on the edge of being reasonable were reasonable and then kept pushing the boundaries for what counted. When dealing with master effects, it was best to use an emotional response to logical manipulations and a logical response to emotional manipulations. At least, that is what was taught.


    I wasn¡¯t sure which one this was, but I was leaning more towards logical than emotional. I focused on the situation. On my feelings of frustration at falling into a trap. How did the Painter so easily trick me? Did he have more compulsions? I let the irritation of having to constantly be invited inside places mount up.


    The vision kept trying to distract me, but I drowned myself in my feelings instead.


    There had been many paintings, and I couldn¡¯t afford to keep moving from one to another.


    The hounds came closer and the tolling of bells grew louder, but I put that all out of my mind. Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the idea of simply being out. I refined the idea, honing upon my intent. Being in another portrait was unacceptable, I needed to escape.


    Once more I felt resistance. The illusion, or whatever it was, tried to fight back. I could hear the panting of the hounds. I ignored it. My attempts weren¡¯t working. I wasn¡¯t making any progress at all. My frustration rose, but still I kept trying. It felt like there was someone actively contesting what I was doing. They were no longer just sitting idly by. Whoever it was had a stronger grasp than my own.


    So I tried something else.


    Instead of trying to bulldoze my way through, I tried subverting their purpose. I felt around what they were trying to do. It was like a uniform wall all around me. Experimentally, I tried sending something else through it. Focusing my will, I tried to shove some of the painted landscape around me beyond the wall. It went through uncontested. That meant whatever my opponent was doing was selective.


    I hadn¡¯t tried using stranger powers yet, but this seemed like a good opportunity to try. My experiments with other power types had shown me that the more absolute the power I tried, the more difficult it was to enforce. I¡¯d need to be careful to choose an ability that didn¡¯t leave me knocked out for an hour. I didn¡¯t need Imp¡¯s power here to escape, just anything that could convince my opposition that I didn¡¯t belong inside. So I chose to try something a little more subtle. There was nothing out of place about me. Everything I was doing was completely normal, just what you would expect from the average nice girl.


    The effect went through. It took effort on my part and was more draining than I expected, but to the world it was suddenly as if what I was doing wasn¡¯t worth paying attention to. The focus of my assailant drifted somewhere else.


    I capitalized, focusing on the idea of ejecting myself. At the last moment, I felt whoever was on the other side scrambling to try to stop me, but it was too late.


    The scene shattered.


    I landed unceremoniously on a bed of snow. Experimentally, I tried feeling out the existence of a similar effect again. My will found almost absolutely no purchase on the world around me. Ominously, they seemed much stronger here than inside the painting. Whoever had been containing me was now actively working much harder to keep me contained.


    Usually I had a vague sense of the world up to just over a mile out. As if it was almost a part of me. It wasn¡¯t like my swarm sense, I couldn¡¯t tell where things were in relation to each other. Just that I could affect them. It had taken me a while to notice because of how subtle it was. It wasn¡¯t something that I often played around with, considering the effort it took and the likelihood of being found out. Here, that was just gone. I could feel out no further than maybe thirty feet. It was like the essence of me was being squeezed real tight, down to the size of a ball.


    It was claustrophobic, unpleasant. I didn¡¯t like it at all.


    I tried to impose a stranger effect again, but my assailant noticed and struck out, shattering it almost immediately. What they were doing felt similar to what I was doing, but not exactly the same. If I was to qualify the difference, I would say it was almost as if¡­ What they were doing was tacitly allowed by the world, while my actions weren¡¯t.


    It was like a house invader destroying the coffee table instead of the house owner. The table was still broken, but the circumstances were different.


    That wasn¡¯t good.


    There also wasn¡¯t anything I could do about it. Whoever they were, they seemed much more adept at this than I was. They knew how to fight this way, and I was still learning.


    Running when I didn¡¯t know where I was also seemed to be a bad idea. So it was time to find out more about where I was.


    I took a look around.


    Around me on every side were rows upon rows of glass spheres, all placed delicately on cushions seated upon plinths. The room was an oval, with a roof that looked to be made of transparent ice above. The walls of the place were unnerving. If I was to describe them, I would swear they were carved out of the blackest of night skies. I was near the centre. There was a narrow path that led out to a door that terminated where just shy of my position. Near me was a basin that was intricately decorated in silver plating.


    I was in the middle of a very big stadium.


    I stood up and took a closer look at the ball closest to me. Inside was the scene of the forest in miniature. Puzzled, I moved to the next one. This one contained a tavern. To my horror, a man was drinking himself into stupor within.


    Souls. They were prisons containing souls. There must have been thousands of them. What kind of person could do such a thing? Wherever I was, I didn¡¯t think it was inside another painting. This seemed more like the¡­ artist¡¯s containment facility.


    Looking back over how I ended up here, I felt like slapping myself. I hadn¡¯t taken the warnings that I had been given seriously and ended up trapped as a consequence. I should have been more cautious, but instead I had walked right into some sort of master or stranger effect. Max had told me I would need to worry about travelling with a hero. I hadn¡¯t taken that warning to heart.


    I still didn¡¯t quite believe in the power of stories, but you didn¡¯t need to believe in a weapon for it to be able to cut you. Treating them as if they were a threat to me wouldn¡¯t cost me much. If it saved my life, it would be worth making the effort.


    I turned around and trudged towards the basin.


    To my surprise, I heard murmuring as I approached. The basin contained a pool of mist. Puzzled, I was about to look at something else when I realized that I could see figures moving within. It was showing somewhere else. Looking closer, I tried to make out the scene below.


    ¡°You do not understand my vision, the true beauty of my work.¡± A figure said. He was standing in a poorly lit room filled with mostly empty canvases. It was the painter.


    ¡°I understand that you have stolen the soul of one of my friends, return it.¡± Roland demanded firmly.


    The painter ignored him, rambling on.


    ¡°All my life, I lived in the shadow of someone else. My parents snubbed me, for I had not the gifts of my sibling. My friends pitied me, then cast me aside. Then one day, on my journey through the Waning Woods, I was approached by one of the Winter Fae. It made me an offer and I accepted it. Finally, I had a way to earn the respect I was owed.¡±


    ¡°And what was it that you bargained your soul away for?¡± Roland asked, aghast.


    ¡°It was not my own soul I bargained away.¡± The painter laughed.


    ¡°A paintbrush tipped with unicorn hairs that, when fed a drop of blood, can paint windows in and out of Arcadia. For the paltry price of one human soul a month, I had a way to climb out from the shadows of others and finally live. For a time I profited, amassing for myself a fortune through trade. Moving across the land far faster than any other merchant could.¡± The painter continued.


    To my incredulity, this was a storybook villain giving a genuine monologue.


    ¡°And where is this brush now?¡±


    The man tapped his side, grinning gleefully.


    Why was Roland just allowing him to talk?


    ¡°Then, my brother became jealous and confronted me, demanding I turn it over. For he was the one in the family with magic, and clearly he was the one who deserved it. It dawned on me then that I would never have my due. That, if I wanted recognition from the world around me, that I would need to take it from others and manifest it as my own.¡± He spread his arms dramatically.


    Is¡­this¡­for¡­real?


    Why was somebody actually acting like this.


    Behind him, the painting of a tiger came to life. It leapt towards Roland, snarling, and Roland dove to the side.


    ¡°Maxime!¡± he shouted out.


    The wall of the caravan detonated into a shard of splinters and from behind it, my friend came hurtling through. His face was contorted in rage and from his palms, two fireballs leapt out. They struck the tiger.


    It was good to know that they were seemingly fine, but I had my own situation to deal with. I had a dagger strapped to my left leg, but I doubted it would help me against whoever was restraining me. My struggle against them continued, but I was making no ground.


    I was just about to turn around and start looking for an escape when a voice called out.


    ¡°Amusing, is it not?¡± It reverberated eerily, not against the stadium, but seemingly against the air itself.


    I turned around warily.


    A figure stood at the entrance. Despite how far away he was, I had been able to hear his words perfectly. His face was pale and narrow, almost vulpine in nature. He had long ears and was missing one eye, a black silken patch covering it over. He was clad as he was in a sober long-sleeved tunic with buttons of shade, and wore a sword at his hip. It was slender and lacked a sheath. The man radiated an aura of violence.


    Beside him, strode a black horse carved from wood. Ebony, I realized.


    I had read stories of these creatures. There were myths and legends about them on Earth Bet as well.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    This was one of the Fae.


    That meant I was probably somewhere in Arcadia.


    I would need to be very cautious.


    A part of me wanted me to attack, but I shoved it down. He was clearly the one currently keeping me contained, and I suspected a fight wouldn¡¯t go in my favour. When trying to find out more about myself back at the tower, I had found passing references to the Fae. Apparently, they lived life entirely through stories. I was doubtful.


    Unfortunately, it was unlikely that I could fight the creature on my own. My efforts to resist him were going poorly, I would need some help. Hopefully the other two would be able to either pull me out of here, or provide me with support. That meant I needed to buy time.


    I didn¡¯t think that stories would help at all, but they were a valid way to stall. There was no reason to be reckless here just because I didn¡¯t believe they would do anything, though. Fae were supposed to trap people with words, so I would need to be on my guard.


    ¡°May I have the honour of knowing who I speak to?¡± I asked, careful in how I phrased my query.


    If they did follow stories, then I had no idea how many stories told about these creatures on Earth would hold up. The idea of escaping one trap to end up in another did not appeal to me. Was lying to them dangerous? How about bargains? Was he weak to iron and lulled by music?


    ¡°So cautious,¡± the figure mused, laughing delightedly. ¡°You may refer to me as the Prince of Nightfall. And who may I have the honour of talking to?¡±


    He walked closer, then came to a stop. Watching his eyes, I noticed he was warily staring at what I would approximate to be the perimeter of my presence. He was also going out of his way to remain outside of it.


    Would making a rush towards him be a mistake? Possibly. I wouldn¡¯t take the chance just yet. Everything about this man screamed danger. That if I messed up, he would kill me in a moment.


    I didn¡¯t know if there was any risk in me giving him my name. Better to err on the safe side here, rather than take the plunge. If the world really did listen to stories, though, perhaps I could try to tell one of my own.


    ¡°A captured Princess, waiting for a hero to rescue her,¡± I replied.


    Max will never let me hear the end of this if he finds out I said that.


    It was the first story that came to mind, as much as I didn¡¯t like it at all.


    His lips twitched. I guessed he found the idea that I was a Princess just as ridiculous as I did.


    ¡°And from where does this Princess hail from, then?¡± He fished.


    Wait, he¡¯s actually playing into this?


    ¡­ That wasn¡¯t what I expected at all. Did that mean I needed to actually come up with a plausible Princess story now?


    How do I justify this?


    ¡­ I should have just gone with damsel.


    The fight continued to play out in the bowl below. Maxime was keeping the painter tied down and Roland was moving in. I wasn¡¯t sure what he was trying to achieve, exactly. I just hoped he would break me out of this prison soon.


    Every word I said would need to be considered carefully.


    ¡°From the court beyond the stars,¡± I answered.


    Technically, I was from beyond the stars. If lying to Fae was as foolhardy as the stories I knew would suggest, I wouldn¡¯t try it here. The Faerie Queen might have been mad, but if she kept calling my passenger a Queen, that made me a Princess, right?


    His eyebrows rose for a moment. Then, he smiled, seemingly satisfied with my answer.


    I hope I don¡¯t come to regret that.


    ¡°And what does her Royal Highness think of my humble accommodations, then?¡± He inquired.


    I stared into the bowl, buying myself some time to think. It was nerve wracking seeing a fight play out and not being able to help.


    Suddenly, Roland leapt. He grabbed at the paintbrush at the artist¡¯s side, tearing it away.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s mine!¡± The painter cried out in anger.


    ¡°You are not worthy of the power granted by an artefact like this. You are misusing it, wielding it to the detriment of all those around you.¡± Roland declared.


    ¡°I am the only one worthy of it,¡± the painter shouted, ¡°for I am the Arcadian Artist.¡±


    ¡°Confiscate.¡±


    I turned back to the Prince.


    ¡°I think the manner in which I was brought here leaves much to be desired,¡± I evaded.


    The Prince walked away from the path, moving towards the globes. ¡°Only thirty of these souls were payment made by my little friend there. The rest were payments delivered by others.¡±


    Right, so it sounded like this wasn¡¯t so much the Artist¡¯s soul storage but instead the storage of some dangerous Winter Fae. I wasn¡¯t sure where he was going with that digression, but at least he hadn¡¯t tried running me through.


    Why hasn¡¯t he tried killing me?


    This entire situation was ridiculous.


    ¡°I will offer you a trade, a question for a question. Truly answered, to the best of our abilities.¡± He continued.


    I was out of my depth. A voice at the back of my head warned that if he wished to, he could talk circles around Lisa. Unfortunately, every moment I kept this creature talking was another moment in which the others potentially freed me. I would have to take the risk.


    ¡°I accept this trade,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Bargain struck then,¡± he acknowledged.


    ¡°I offer you the privilege of asking first.¡± he stated.


    I almost began to speak, but then realized that accepting the offer might be a bad idea.


    ¡°The privilege is all yours,¡± I denied.


    ¡°Very well, then,¡± he smiled. ¡°Does the Court from Beyond the Stars intend to lay claim to these parts of the Garden?¡±


    That was not the question I had been expecting. I could practically hear the capitalizations when he spoke them.


    That wasn¡¯t a real place, was it? Surely it was just a name that I had made up.


    The question had come out of nowhere, and left me thoroughly confused. Even if it was a real place, I wasn¡¯t actually a Princess from it. This creature had to know that.


    Fumbling, I answered. ¡°The Court from Beyond the Stars lays no claim to these lands.¡±


    Claiming territory I had no right to was probably a bad idea. If he wasn¡¯t trying to kill me now, I didn¡¯t want to give him a reason to.


    I felt a sudden weight pressing down on me. A presence, an outside observer, listening to what I had to say. The feeling disappeared and with it, I was left even more confused than before.


    I paused, taking time to gather myself before I made a mistake.


    Now I had a question to ask of my own. I considered what to ask. I could ask him to point me to the shortest way out. In fact, I was sorely tempted to. If the power of stories was as real as people believed it to be, though, then doing so might be a mistake. I had begun with the story of a trapped Princess waiting to be rescued. If I tried to escape on my own, I would be changing the narrative.


    Do I rely on others to try and rescue me, or try to rescue myself?


    Lisa¡¯s words about never relying on others came back from the grave to haunt me.


    I¡­ didn¡¯t want to rely solely on someone else to save me. That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t have it as a fallback option. I could make room for someone else to save me if my escape attempt failed. Stories might be a weapon here, but they wouldn¡¯t be my first weapon. For the Princess story to work, I would probably need to climb back into one of those balls. I wasn¡¯t willing to do that unless I knew exactly what they did.


    The pressure of his will against mine shifted constantly. It was like he was testing the limits of my ability to respond.


    It seemed stupid to not take the opportunity to try and make my own exit, but I had no idea how far the closest way out from here was on my own. I only had one question, and I didn¡¯t know if the creature could lie or not. Between risking escape without directions and climbing in a prison without knowing the cost if I couldn¡¯t win a fight, I would rather do the former than the latter. Swallowing my pride, I chose to find out what the balls really did.


    ¡°What is the mechanical functionality of the spheres?¡± I asked, pointing at one.


    If it came down to choosing between running, going back into a ball or fighting him, I would try fighting him first. This way I knew if I had a fallback option. If those prisons did something truly insidious, then I would have to be willing to fight to the death. It was important to know if playing the damsel was an acceptable, although humiliating, way out of here.


    The Prince¡¯s expression remained unchanged as he continued to speak. I wasn¡¯t sure if that bode well or ill for me.


    ¡°Each soul tells a story. Each sphere, a dream in which the events that transpire compose the tale of their life as they will it to end. A life spent in a painted world, unending, save by the breaking of the glass. As the warden, I claim their stories as my prize.¡±


    That told me most of what I needed to know, but it didn¡¯t tell me everything. He also hadn¡¯t really answered my question either. He told me what the prison contained, not how they worked. Time to see if this creature would truly play by stories.


    ¡°You have not truly answered your question,¡± I challenged. ¡°You told me what is inside the spheres, not what they do.¡±


    The air of danger around the creature thickened. It seemed he wasn¡¯t happy with my assertion.


    ¡°The dreamscapes draw the essence of a person into a world carved half the distance between the Garden and Creation. The spheres anchor this end and the paintings, the other.¡±


    ¡­ Right. He actually answered me.


    Maybe my doubt in the effectiveness of stories was misplaced.


    I still didn¡¯t have the last answer I needed. What would happen if you broke a sphere? I guessed it would eject someone out into the world again. That was what would happen if you removed one anchor, right?


    ¡°You have not told me what happens if the spheres break,¡± I tried.


    ¡°That is not the question that you asked of me,¡± the Prince smiled.


    It was worth a try.


    ¡°Now, it is time for the Princess to return to her cell, for it seems that she was caught in her bid to escape.¡± He stated.


    It seemed that my stalling had come to an end.


    ¡°I would rather not,¡± I declared.


    I dashed his way. He had been afraid of me closing in, so why not try that first?


    Faster than I could blink, he leapt back, landing on a platform of ice suspended high in the air. I tried throwing a beam of light his way in response. Spots appeared on my vision. The beam departed from my fingers, only to fizzle out at the edge of my influence.


    ¡­ That wasn¡¯t what I had expected to happen.


    Then, a bigger problem. The moment in which I had summoned the beam, my focus on defence had slipped a little, and he had compressed me even further. My range was down to just over twenty feet now. I tried to push out again, but my efforts slid off. It was like trying to grab at mist.


    It seemed like fighting wasn¡¯t going to work. I turned towards the exit.


    The Prince¡¯s mount had moved to block the path. That didn¡¯t matter. If the Prince was scared of me, his mount was definitely not a problem. I dashed its way. A dome of ice materialized around me. It was just a little larger than my presence and seemed to be slowly shrinking towards me.


    What was even the point of that?


    The moment I moved a little, I would be able to contest it.


    And I wasn¡¯t about to let him trap me in.


    Which was when I started to feel the pressure against me mount. This time it was targeted. As if he had evaluated all of my weak points and knew where to strike. My presence began to shrink.


    Ah.


    It seemed that fighting and running wouldn¡¯t work.


    That meant trusting that the story I had tried to tell would. The Prince¡¯s dome of ice was uncomfortably close when I dove to the side, landing against one of the plinths. I suppressed a wince of pain. It tilted, and a globe fell into my hand.


    The globe was familiar. In it, a little girl strode through an empty castle.


    Here was a hope my hair brained backup scheme worked. These prisons were supposed to be gilded cages. I wouldn¡¯t be happy in one, but it played into the story I was trying to tell, and my first plan hadn¡¯t worked out.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll go in!¡± I shouted out.


    The approaching sphere stopped, then faded away. The Prince looked at me, as if waiting for me to move.


    ¡°Is this one fine?¡± I helped up the sphere of the girl.


    The sphere of Chicago was harder for me to resist the influence of. It was a familiar landscape and one I could easily buy into. It was a risk to enter a different one. I didn¡¯t know if Roland and Max would be able to find me in this one. We had been trying to save the girl before I was trapped, though, so there was a chance.


    A darker part of me whispered that if Roland didn¡¯t break me out, then I wanted my cage to be one where there wasn¡¯t a chance of me falling under the effects. That way, I could make another attempt to escape on my own.


    The creature gave its assent.


    Reaching out with my will to the globe, I impressed upon it the idea of me falling in. It was within my sphere of influence, so I had no trouble achieving the outcome I wanted at all. Then, I felt myself compress inwards, hurtling towards the globe. Finally, the world flickered for a moment before my new reality set in. I just had to hope that if the sphere was broken, nothing bad was going to happen to me.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± A child¡¯s voice asked from beside me.


    ¡°My name is Taylor,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Do you know where my mommy went to?¡± She asked.


    I felt the surrounding space try to warp and instinctively fought against it.


    ¡°Your mommy isn¡¯t here, Aisling.¡± I answered her softly.


    ¡°But I want my mommy,¡± she cried out, tears starting to run down her face.


    I felt the world shift again. I realized what was happening. In a way, the Prince of Nightfall had already told me. This was a prison designed to try to trap the prisoners inside a vision of what they desire. If there was only a single prisoner, it was shaped by only a single mind. Now, the mirage it was creating was a melding of her wishes and mine.


    That made it easier for me to resist.


    She cried out, visibly upset, and I felt a pang of guilt. It was easy to resist this version of the prison, but did I really need to? So long as she was the one directing the scene, it wasn¡¯t like I would be convinced by it.


    The next time I felt Aisling wish the world try to change, I allowed the change to take hold. Resisting it would be needlessly cruel. The actors who materialized unnerved me, but they seemed to make the girl happy.


    Allowing her vision of the world to rule made the unreality of the place far more clear.


    I sat on a fake rock and watched her laugh and play while I waited. It brought out a deep melancholy in me. A reminder once again that I was in this world, but not truly part of it. An invader.


    This place viscerally disgusted me. It imprisoned people in a way that made them happy to stay trapped, not even aware that their real lives had come to an end.


    Waiting was all that was left to do now. That and a large amount of hope. I didn¡¯t like having to place my trust in someone else like this.


    I could feel the presence of the Prince outside the sphere. Fortunately, it was much easier to resist from inside. Much like before, it seemed like he wasn¡¯t trying to crush me now that I was inside. He was only attempting to keep me contained.


    So now I was stuck in a cell, hoping to be rescued. I had to put my trust in a story, rather than any actions of my own. It rankled.


    I didn¡¯t know how much time was passing outside. According to Max, time passed differently in Arcadia. We could have been trapped here for years already.


    I felt invisible walls closing around me. I clamped down on the urge to tap on my leg nervously. They would rescue me. I wasn¡¯t trapped. This was just a¡­ Temporary vacation.


    Suddenly, I heard a voice again, coming from all directions.


    ¡°Manifest.¡±


    The world seemed to fade, the colour leeching out of it.


    Reality winked out.


    I woke up in the room I had rented. After blinking away my drowsiness, I unsteadily climbed to my feet. Then, I changed and left the room. I was suddenly grabbed from the side and enfolded in a firm hug. It caught me by surprise, but was nice.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fucking scare me again like that, Taylor.¡± Max said, his voice hoarse.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try not to,¡± I replied.


    The fact that the story had actually worked surprised me more than anything else. I had been largely discounting the power of narrative up until I got caught in one. To my dismay, I was beginning to realize that being less sceptical of the world I was in might actually help to keep me alive.


    We made our way to Roland¡¯s room. After he had ensured that I was fine, we started to discuss what had happened. It turned out that a day had passed since my capture.


    ¡°So after you disappeared-¡± he started.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I just fall asleep like Aisling did?¡± I interrupted.


    ¡°No girlie, you vanished.¡± Max answered.


    Roland launched into his tale. After I had disappeared, they had retraced my steps from the days before. First, they visited the artist. It was Maxime¡¯s suggestion, he had found the timing of my purchase suspicious. They tried being circumspect, posing as people interested in purchasing a painting. Unfortunately, they weren¡¯t able to draw anything out of him. After that failed to provide any results, they checked the with family, then they visited the various merchant stalls.


    It was only then that they looked closely through my possessions and took another look at the landscape. It was the lead that they needed. There was a difference to the painting now. The image of me was animated, moving around as if alive. That was the only real proof that was needed.


    Roland and Maxime tried to pull me out, but were unsuccessful. They didn¡¯t know enough about the kind of magic that messes with souls to succeed. They almost went after the Artist immediately, but then thought better of it. If they couldn¡¯t do it, it meant their only real hope of free me was bargaining with the enemy.


    So they took some time to plan. They needed to find a way to blackmail him into getting me out. Having proof of what the paintings did, they asked the parents for theirs. There was no reason not to try saving both of us at once, after all.


    Then they had gone to confront the artist. The plan was to get him to pull me out, then kill him afterwards. That had led to the confrontation I had witnessed. After seizing the paintbrush, they managed to bargain for the release of me and the girl. Unfortunately, he got away. Terms for his safe departure enforced by a binding were part of the deal. Then he painted a doorway into Arcadia and made his escape.


    It was a bitter pill to swallow, that after all of this, the villain got away. Still, Aisling was saved, and that counted for something.


    Which brought us to the next topic of discussion.


    ¡°Would you shed light on at which point you were planning to inform me that you weren¡¯t from Creation?¡± Roland¡¯s eyes were hard as flint.


    ¡°When the time was right.¡±


    ¡°Would the time ever have been right?¡± He pressed.


    It¡­probably wouldn¡¯t have.


    ¡°I¡­don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°There is bruising between us, Taylor. This is no minor slight. If you wish to continue sharing my fire, you cannot choose to keep me in the dark.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re fine with me still travelling with you then?¡± I asked.


    It surprised me.


    ¡°Make no mistake, I considered reporting you to the priests. Were it not for Maxime¡¯s speaking up in your defence, I would have been hard-pressed to choose.¡± He said.


    The two of us continued to discuss the matter tensely. Roland was understandably upset that I had kept the truth from him for so long. Fortunately, it seemed that it was not a total dealbreaker. It would take a while for the bridge to be mended, but I knew that with time it would be. I had experience, after all.


    Aisling¡¯s parents thanked us profusely for our help when we next spoke with them. Fearing drawing too much attention, we left the town not long after.


    Thoughts of the Prince of Nightfall¡¯s prison weighed down on my mind. I wasn¡¯t sure how I was going to do anything about it, but I wouldn¡¯t be leaving it alone. Something about me had made him cautious. I may not know enough to do anything now, but that wouldn¡¯t always remain true.

 Verism 2.02

    ¡°I have to say, Chancellor, that too many chefs do not in fact spoil the broth. Try it, the chefs taste great.¡±


    ¨C Dread Empress Sanguinia I, the Gourmet


    <hr>


    My clash with the Prince of Nightfall had made me far warier of the power of stories within the world. I wasn¡¯t certain exactly how strong the narrative was, but I would still try to watch out for it. It also made me far more worried about the Calamities. I was doing my best to learn about the politics of Callow as we moved through it. What I learned painted a concerning picture. The Black Knight went out of his way to avoid many of the more obvious stories. He founded orphanages, regulated the education system, and actively prohibited any behaviour on the parts of his legions that would drive citizens to rebel.


    It was the kind of behaviour I would expect more from a proper amoral tyrant, rather than from a monologuing villain. The man knew what he was doing, probably better than I did.


    That made remaining in Callow very dangerous.


    I had raised the issue with Roland, but he had brushed me off angrily. He was still upset over me not confiding in him and seemed determined not to trust anything I said.


    I didn¡¯t relent and brought the matter to Maxime. This concerned our safety and I felt Roland was putting us all at risk. I wasn¡¯t sure just how spread out the Eyes of the Empire were, but there was a good chance our actions were being heavily scrutinized. Max agreed with me and confronted Roland about the matter.


    Roland was undeterred.


    Quietly, Maxime informed me that he suspected Roland didn¡¯t want to return to Procer out of a desire to avoid confronting his own past. The death of his brother still hung over him, and staying in Callow allowed him to avoid it.


    As frustrating as it was, I wasn¡¯t willing to just abandon him despite our current dispute. I was doing my best now to shroud us in secrecy whenever I could, making us as uninteresting as possible to everyone we passed by. It was draining to do and left me feeling irate.


    The others kept pressing me for details on my life. I kept putting them off. I told them about many of the fights I was in, but nothing that really mattered to me. The end of the world. The distance between me and my dad. All the people I missed now that I was here. They were all topics I avoided. Some of the pains I had thought myself over, but losing everything had made them feel fresh. All of it hurt too much to talk about when sober, and I wasn¡¯t about to start drinking again. Besides, I was in a new world. I was owed a fresh start.


    I didn¡¯t want to think about Earth Bet. There was a part of me that was quietly hoping for a way back there. Calernia didn¡¯t feel like home to me. Another part of me worried that if I talked about it, the hope would grow. I didn¡¯t want to start building up that hope only to disappoint myself.


    If I never looked into it, I couldn¡¯t be let down.


    I strongly feared that if I was let down that way, I wouldn¡¯t be able to pull myself back up. That if I found another goal and didn¡¯t think about it, the hope would always remain. Right now, I needed that hope just to make it through the day.


    Travelling with Roland and Max wasn¡¯t that goal, but it kept me occupied. It kept me moving forward, rather than regressing.


    My first harvest festival had been an interesting experience. The people in Callow were much more open about sex than I was used to, and that had been made clear to me during the raucous celebrations. I had to turn down far more people than I was actually comfortable with.


    I wasn¡¯t in the right state of mind for a casual fling.


    It was also odd seeing people refuse to eat poultry when the geese were migrating, but that was easier to swallow.


    We arrived in Hedges at the start of Winter. A light dusting of snow fell over the pastures as we rode in from the south. Despite this, the place felt cosy. It was a small town that barely had a wall surrounding it. It looked so worn down that if the fairytale wolf came and huffed and puffed, I was certain it would fall over.


    We set up shop once more, by now it was an experience all three of us were familiar with. Despite Maxime having recently started teaching me the theory behind healing, it was not something I had risked putting into practice just yet. None of us knew what would happen if I did, since I wasn¡¯t using traditional sorcery. The plan was to test it on animals first.


    I didn¡¯t expect it to go well, but it was a skill I was determined to learn. Even if it meant having to learn far more about biology than I had ever intended to, being able to modify biology was too valuable a skill to pass up.


    I was busy stirring a cauldron inside when a man came in, looking visibly concerned.


    ¡°This is the place with the wizards?¡± He asked.


    I looked him over more critically.


    A full head taller than me and broad shouldered, he was absolutely massive. Put in any room, and I would bet on him towering over everyone inside. His face was weathered, worn down by age. I guessed he was in his late fifties. Despite this, he stood straight. I couldn¡¯t see anything immediately wrong with him, so I wondered what the problem was.


    I hoped it wasn¡¯t another one of those men hoping for a pick me up in bed. Too many people came in for a treatment for that ¡°ailment.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Would you mind looking over my wife for me? I¡¯ve visited the priests, and they said there was nothing they could do.¡± He sounded distraught.


    That sounded more serious.


    ¡°Just a moment,¡± I told him.


    Looking over the mixture more critically, I determined that it had another minute or so before it was done. Once it finished simmering, I put out the fire, leaving it to cool.


    ¡°Right, I¡¯m not actually the healer, but I can take a look and give you some idea if there is something that can be done. Mind if I let my friends know that I¡¯m going out?¡± The others were upstairs, busy looking over somebody else. This was something I could do on my own.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± he agreed.


    It wasn¡¯t feasible for us to always stick together. By necessity, we sometimes had to split up. That didn¡¯t mean we couldn¡¯t be careful about it. Telling each other where we were going and what we were doing was the very least we could do to avoid problems.


    After going upstairs and letting them know what I was doing, I came down and told him to show me to her.


    He nodded at me thankfully, then started leading the way out.


    The light from the sun shone down from above, shining through between the leafless branches of trees on either side of the road. We made our way rapidly to a farm just outside the city walls. I was alert, wary in case of an ambush. I didn¡¯t actually expect one, considering how stupid it would be to try to attack an alleged wizard. That still wasn¡¯t a good reason for me to be careless. After all, it would only take one mistake on my part to end up dead in a ditch.


    The farmer invited me in and after being led to the bedroom, I was greeted by the sigh of an elderly lady sleeping peacefully in bed. At first glance, it seemed there was nothing wrong. Then I noticed the painting hanging from the wall.


    It was a painting of the wife standing beneath what I guessed was The Wall. The Wall was a structure which existed in Daoine, separating the Duchy of Daoine from the Greenskin Marches.


    The style looked familiar, but I didn¡¯t immediately recognize it. Something about it tickled my memory. It bothered me, so I asked about it.


    ¡°Where did you buy that?¡±


    Bewildered, the man took a moment to respond.


    ¡°Why, is it important? I brought you here to look over my wife!¡± He sounded upset.


    ¡°Because something about it is familiar. Maybe it¡¯s related.¡± I answered.


    ¡°We bought it a week ago from a travelling merchant. My wife only passed out four days ago, though. Now, tell me. Is there anything you can do?¡± He pressed.


    A sense of foreboding stole over me as I recalled the Arcadian Artist. It wasn¡¯t a guarantee it was him, but the possibility was there and it was strong. I realized why I hadn¡¯t recognized it immediately. The quality of the work was much lower than the paintings I had seen before. The lines of the brush strokes seemed more careless, as if they were done in a hurry without being given much thought.


    I was about to tell the farmer my suspicions, when I felt the phantom fingers of Max pressing down on my shoulders.


    Think, Taylor.


    If I told him there was a villainous painter going around, what kind of outcome would it cause? If he believed me, he would be angry. Maybe go to the Legions and rouse a fuss. Regardless of whether the Artist was here or not, telling him would cause more trouble than we needed.


    We could solve the problem, without actually informing the farmer of the cause.


    ¡­ It also wasn¡¯t my decision alone to make. I was part of a group. That meant taking other people¡¯s opinions into account.


    ¡°I will need to consult with my friends. There is nothing I can do alone, but I think one of them may be able to help.¡± I told him. He didn¡¯t look happy, but he accepted the outcome with a wordless nod.


    Making my way back to our shop, I prepared to break the news.


    This seemed like the beginnings of a story. That meant Roland was going to be the one front and centre stage.


    Arriving, I made my way upstairs. Their patient had since been ushered out, and the two of them were talking to each other in low voices. From a distance, it looked like they were examining something of a desk, but I couldn¡¯t make out what.


    ¡°Roland,¡± I said.


    ¡°Yes, Taylor?¡± He replied frostily, without looking up.


    ¡°I think we have a problem.¡±


    Both of them stopped what they were doing and turned my way.


    ¡°How rough are we talking here, Taylor? Alamans or Lycaonese?¡± Max asked.


    I ignored what he said and continued to lay out what I found.


    ¡°A farmer came in. His wife has been unconscious for four days. In their room is a painting they bought from a travelling artist a week ago. I think the Arcadian Artist is somewhere nearby.¡±


    What levity remained drained out of the room.


    ¡°Did you cause us further strife by raising your concerns with the farmer?¡± Roland accused.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then we should begin investigating. Our first step should be to ask around, find out if anyone knows where he is. Once we have discovered where he has made his lair, we can perform a closer reconnaissance.¡± Roland started laying out his thoughts, planning out what we should do.


    Despite how long I had spent playing either second or third fiddle to him, it still rankled not being the one in control. Learning to let someone I felt didn¡¯t have enough experience take the lead was hard for me. Sadly, with Names involved, it might actually be the right choice. Fortunately, he didn¡¯t completely disregard my advice.


    Max and I would stick together. It was one of the defence mechanisms we had agreed to try out. I wasn¡¯t sure how much it would help, but it was better to try something than nothing at all. We suspected it would work to avoid stories involving companions being abducted, although we couldn¡¯t be entirely sure. It certainly avoided stories involving defenceless maidens off on their own. Not that I was a maiden regardless.


    The two of us set out and started asking around.


    What we learned was concerning.


    There were another five cases like this in the outlying farms. The farmer who had brought the matter to us was just the first to get us involved. The Artist wasn¡¯t being discreet at all. After regrouping, we discussed the matter. Max suggested that it was an effort to recoup his losses after we drove him away. The idea seemed plausible.


    The fact that he would be willing to be so direct after being circumspect in his previous encounter surprised me. My guess was that he intended to leave using his brush again and didn¡¯t care to burn bridges as a result.


    Soon enough, we learned that our suspect had left the city, heading out west. I wasn¡¯t sure where he was going. That way lay the Whitecaps. They were the mountain range dividing Callow and Procer and at this part of the range, there wasn¡¯t an easy way to cross. It was no matter. Whether he was heading there to paint the scenery or start a new plot, we would find and stop him.


    The three of us collected our belongings and headed out in pursuit. We were days behind, and so we had to push hard. I wasn¡¯t sure whether the Artist would be expecting anyone to follow him or not. With the way he seemed to work, he didn¡¯t draw much attention to himself. By the time evidence of his activity started to show up in an area, he had already moved on. Him drawing attention to himself like this seemed like a break in the pattern.


    <hr>


    Four days into our following of his trail, and we finally caught sight of a caravan on the horizon. The terrain had grown rugged. The grass was short, and the ground was uneven. In the distance, the mountains loomed. It was a nightmare to progress. Our transport was not built for this kind of terrain, and I doubted the Artist¡¯s caravan was either.


    We spotted it standing just below what looked to be the ruins of some ancient civilization. The ruins themselves were on a plateau above and weren¡¯t easily reached, but whatever the place was, it looked to have an interesting history.


    The field of disinterest I maintained around myself was a constant drain, but I would rather keep it up than risk any problems.


    Then I felt something odd. It was like a braided knot tied inside my sphere of influence. Curious, I poked at it and found it unyielding.


    ¡°There¡¯s something strange up there,¡± I pointed from my position on the cart.


    ¡°Strange how?¡± Max mused.


    Roland stood up and began an incantation. His eyes flashed briefly, then he turned towards where I indicated.


    ¡°Indeed, I am unable to discern any notable discrepancies,¡± he added.


    ¡°It¡¯s like there¡¯s a knot in my perception up in those ruins,¡± I explained.


    The other two looked at each other, concerned. Whilst Max was accepting of what I could do, Roland was still uncomfortable with it. This was the first time something had appeared that was only detectable to me and not them, so their reaction was reasonable.


    ¡°Have you any insights into the nature of this oddity?¡± Roland inquired, sitting down again.


    I focused harder on it. This particular sense was extremely subtle and took a lot of concentration for me to even notice it was there. I doubted I would be able to provide them with any useful information, but there was no harm in trying.


    Whatever it was, I didn¡¯t think it was alive, but I couldn¡¯t actually prove it. The sensation of whatever it was mostly closely approximated the feeling of approaching a warded building. That was the only reason I was able to make any judgement calls about it at all.


    ¡°I¡­ think it¡¯s some sort of ward, but I¡¯m not sure,¡± I hedged.


    Both of them seemed satisfied with my response.


    ¡°Then we should endeavour to approach most cautiously as we make to engage with our foe.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know why there was a ward active this far out. But I did agree that leaving it alone did seem like a smart idea.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied.


    We picked up our pace, moving closer. We had halved the distance when I called for a stop. I doubted the effect I was maintaining would offset the oddity of seeing three people in the middle of nowhere if we moved any closer. Especially since the Artist apparently negotiated with the Fae. It seemed likely he would have experience with similar effects.


    The drain was also a liability once we actually got into a fight.


    ¡°He¡¯ll probably notice us if we move closer,¡± I stated.


    It was unfortunate. Being able to simply walk right up and knife the man would make the situation so much easier.


    ¡°It is the most likely of circumstances,¡± Roland agreed.


    ¡°We should ambush him,¡± Maxime stated firmly.


    I was inclined to agree.


    ¡°Which of us do you believe should strike out as our guiding knife?¡± Roland asked.


    We had what loosely counted as three mages, and the Artist was vulnerable without time to actually prepare. The others had clued me in on how the Artist appeared to fight. He had the ability to bring some of his paintings to life, materializing them in Creation. The constructs were still blobs of animated paint, but that didn¡¯t make them less dangerous. The claws of the painted tiger that Maxime had fought we just as sharp as real claws, despite being made of paint.


    The Artist¡¯s ability was odd because of how versatile it seemed to be. Nothing in magic was free, he had to be paying for the power somehow. We suspected that it was fuelled by captured souls.


    ¡°Why not try to coordinate a joint strike all at the same time?¡± I kept my eyes on the Artist¡¯s position as I spoke, in case something went wrong.


    ¡°If we commit the fullness of our strength to the opening blow, then how are we to deal with his response?¡±


    I sort of followed his logic, but I didn¡¯t like it. It was more story bullshit. If we committed fully at the start, then he could escalate and we would have no appropriate response. Still, I¡¯d already been bitten once by a story, I was willing to give this a shot.


    ¡°Maxime should. He has the most experience with war magic,¡± I answered.


    ¡°You want me to fuck around first? Why not you, girlie? Out of all of us, you can strike-¡±


    Suddenly, I felt a change. It was as if there were two different places overlapping somewhere inside the caravan.


    ¡°I think the Artist is doing something,¡± I interjected urgently. ¡°I can feel something in the world around me. We need to act fast.¡±


    Both of the others became alert at what I said.


    ¡°Maxime, heed her words,¡± Roland commanded.


    ¡°I can blow him from here,¡± Maxime declared. His gaze sharpened, it looked like he was preparing to cast.


    ¡°Forces from above, powerful and profound,¡± he began, raising the palm of his right hand to the sky. His other hand traced symbols in the air.


    I jumped off the cart and then split off to the left. Roland did the same, but split off to the right. This time, we wouldn¡¯t be allowing the Artist to get away.


    ¡°I call upon you to pay heed, bring your wrath to bear.¡± His hand came down, index finger pointing towards the caravan.


    ¡°Hear me now and rend this world asunder!¡±


    Jaquinite sorcery when used properly was very dramatic to watch. Max had told me it was based off of mages trying to emulate the miracles of priests with their workings. If you were in it for theatre, I could definitely see the appeal. I would prefer to know a different school of magic myself. I wasn¡¯t the biggest fan of how everything done by Jacquinite wizards looked and sounded like you were supplicating yourself before the gods.


    Unfortunately, after spending time in Callow and having seen some of what Trismegistan sorcery could do, I was regretting that it hadn¡¯t been what I was taught to use. It apparently required more book learning up front, but had a much greater pay-off long term. That is, I would regret it if I ever found myself using traditional sorcery instead of doing¡­ Whatever it was that I was doing.


    The sky darkened for a moment. Then, three consecutive bolts of lightning came crashing down out of a cloudless sky, blasting into our enemy''s mode of transportation. The charred wreckage rolled over thrice before coming to rest.


    Staying alert, I sped up. I was waiting until I saw our opponent before I attacked. I didn¡¯t know my exact limits on larger effects. It wasn¡¯t like I could test them without drawing attention. Better for me to be sure, then waste my efforts on nothing.


    The distance continued to close. Up ahead, what looked to be two dozen painted tigers suddenly phased into existence. Reacting on instinct, I hurled a ball of fire at one of them. It was far more effective than I expected. The fire spread rapidly over it, consuming it entirely in a matter of heartbeats.


    Alerted by my attack, the others started to close in. Maxime and Roland joined in the assault. It didn¡¯t take long before the creatures had been whittled down to the last remaining tiger. Now that I was more alert, I took the time to examine it more closely. It was clearly painted into existence. Its stripes were thick lines of ivory black paint trailing across a body composed of burnt sienna blobs.


    It really was the Artist then.


    Not that I had had any doubts, but it was good to confirm it.


    Disposing of it, we picked up the pace. All of us were tense.


    ¡°He¡¯s trying to slow us down!¡± Max exclaimed.


    I couldn¡¯t help but agree.


    The tigers served no other purpose than to buy him time. Without catching us in an ambush, they simply weren¡¯t threatening. Right now, we were already forewarned. If he didn¡¯t come up with a something else, then this fight wouldn¡¯t be a problem at all. It would not be long now until we were close enough to engage the Artist properly.


    Then a painted dragon manifested.


    It was twenty feet from tail to snout and seemed to have been conceived of in a hurry. Whilst the outline of the Dragon had been completed, and the extremities had been painted in, the stomach was an incomplete mess with holes gaping through. The crimson brush strokes that made up its wings were messy and dripped splotches of paint onto the rocky ground below.


    For a moment, I paused.


    That¡­hadn¡¯t been what I was expecting.


    Right then, I looked on in that way animals do when they respond to the presence of a larger predator. Shaking myself out of my funk, I hurled a ball of flame at it.


    The dragon caught light.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°Flames still hurt it!¡± I shouted out.


    It dashed forward, coming towards me in a blaze of movement. Next thing I knew, one of its claws was swiping at me. I tumbled to the side, trying to avoid the strike. I suppressed a wince as I smashed against some of the snow covered rocks.


    Fast!


    Another claw came raking down towards me. I manifested a pane of solid force between us. It struck, but my shield held.


    I started to run, making some distance between myself and the dragon. I threw more flames at it as I went, trying to keep up the pressure. The dragon followed. I found, to my mounting dismay, that it moved faster than I did.


    A third blow. The shield I conjured this time cracked under the force. I was sent crashing to the ground. I scrambled to my feet.


    Why is it focusing on me?


    No matter, I would do what I could. I realized that it moved slower when turning. This time, when I ran, I ran towards it and angled just slightly left of its claws. Awkwardly, it tried to stomp on me. I jumped to the side and narrowly avoided it. I could feel the heat radiating from the serpentine conflagration beside me. It was uncomfortably hot this close.


    Out of nowhere, two painted tigers jumped at me. Scrambling, the world darkened for a moment before a beam of light bored into them. A wave of fatigue washed over me. The drain was starting to set in.


    Fuck.


    Distantly, I saw Roland behind the dragon. He was raining down balls of flame on its right flank, feeding into the blaze. The dragon whipped its tail back and forth, sending Roland flying backwards. I hoped that he wasn¡¯t badly hurt. Then, a bolt of lightning came hurtling out of the sky, smashing into the dragon. The beast roared.


    This wasn¡¯t working. It was burning, but not fast enough. Another strike, and this time my shield shattered. I summoned a reinforced dome around myself, buying time to think.


    If we couldn¡¯t burn through it quick enough, then we needed to contain it somehow. I wasn¡¯t sure if it could actually fly, since it hadn¡¯t tried yet, but it would actually be less of a threat in the air. Up there, it couldn¡¯t use its bulk as a battering ram. That gave me the inkling of an idea. I focused on the ground below it, turning dirt and rocks into mush. It started to sink in.


    Scrambling, it let out a roar. Parts of it spread out into the mud. Then, it took flight. Crimson flecks rained down upon us as it flapped its wings.


    At that point, the unexpected happened. The paint in the mud started to turn into amorphous blobs of ooze. That would have been fine on its own, except the ooze was on fire and jumping towards me.


    I conjured a beam of frost, pulling snow from the surrounding landscape and flash freezing one of them. There were more of them coming my way, though, and I couldn¡¯t afford to be indiscriminate. Not with my friends nearby. Frustrated, I resorted to containment. I pulled up the surrounding ground, shaping it into walls and boxing them in.


    The efforts of changing so much was rapidly wearing me down. My vision started to swim.


    A tiger crashed into the side of my dome. How many of the cats did the Artist make? Irritated, I doused it in napalm and left it to die. The world was spinning. I realized that the fumes of burning paint were starting to colour my perception. Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to the fight raging above.


    Another series of lightning bolts came crashing down from above, smashing into the dragon. Max was in fine form today, it seemed. His attack struck one of its wings, disrupting its flight.


    Then the beast did something unexpected. It seemed to roll up into itself, from tail to snout. As it did so, its mass compressed into its head. Then it acted. In a final act of spite, it breathed its body out as a cone of flaming paint. If it hadn¡¯t been on fire, it would have been more comical than threatening. Unfortunately, it was.


    The remaining snow all around the battlefield was pulled in towards one point. Then, a pillar of condensed snow shot up from the ground. The pillar proceeded to curve outwards. It shaped itself into a dome. The flames collided with it. They broke up on contact, scattering around. I looked around and saw Roland panting beside our wagon. Seemed it had been action on his part then.


    I started making my way towards him. Max sidled up beside me and we arrived together not long after.


    ¡°We must make haste. The Artist is surely using the commotion to buy time in order to enact his escape.¡± Roland declared.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed.


    Max said nothing.


    The three of us started to approach the caravan¡¯s remains. Shaping a hole into the floor, we entered. Inside was a mess of upturned artistry. Cautiously, we looked around. Supplies were strewn haphazardly across the interior, and furniture had been displaced. Shattered glass and flecks of paint decorated the place like a work of modern art. We walked forward along the right wall, careful where we placed our feet as we went.


    The artist couldn¡¯t be seen.


    Then, on the far wall, I spotted a doorway that had been painted in white tinged with red. I moved in close, examining it further. Experimentally, I grabbed a rolled up sheet of canvas and prodded the paint. The canvas passed right through.


    Frowning, I pulled the canvas out and looked over it closely. It looked perfectly fine. I dropped the canvas. I suspected the Artist had escaped through the painting. That was how he escaped the last time, right?


    Slowly, I poked the doorway with my stump. I figured if I was going to lose some more of my body to ill-advised experimentation, it might as well be the part I had already partially lost. It sunk in, but otherwise seemed to be undamaged when I pulled it out. Feeling more assured, I reached out with my hand.


    My hand passed through the paint.


    ¡°He went through here,¡± I called out.


    Max sidled up beside me.


    ¡°How can you be sure?¡± He asked.


    Shrugging, I picked up the roll of canvas by way of explanation and tossed it right through.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t check what happens by sticking parts of your body through there, did you?¡± He said, accusingly.


    ¡°I stuck the canvas in first!¡± I protested half-heartedly.


    ¡°Taylor, how many times do I need to tell you to care about yourself more!¡± He exclaimed.


    I looked away sheepishly.


    You¡¯re not my dad.


    The thought registered dimly, but I didn¡¯t say it out loud. Even if he was, I was nineteen, and I had been looking after myself for years before I arrived here. I could manage just fine.


    ¡°It was only a small part of my stump,¡± I protested.


    He seized me in both hands by the shoulders and gently shook me.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t give a fuck about yourself, how can you give a fuck about anyone else? Weeping heavens, girl. Think! What do you think it would do to us if one day you happened to kill yourself?¡±


    I froze stiffly.


    Roland cleared his throat noisily. Both of us turned and glared at him.


    ¡°I feel like I should remind you two that while you are talking, the Artist is making his escape.¡±


    ¡°Right, well,¡± Max said, looking flustered. ¡°Let¡¯s get a move on.¡±


    The three of us stepped through and found ourselves in a verdant jungle. The trills of birdsong rang out around us, and the leaves of evergreens blocked out the sky above. I looked around, frowning. I didn¡¯t know which way our foe had gone.


    The feel of this place reminded me of when I had fought the Prince of Nightfall.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± I declared, ¡°I think we are in Arcadia.¡±


    Both of the others tensed.


    ¡°That way,¡± Max declared, pointing decisively. ¡°See the way the underbrush has been disturbed. That isn¡¯t the work of animals. He went that way.¡±


    Following his lead, we progressed deeper into the jungle. It was slow-going, and the more time dragged on, the more our frustrations began to mount.


    Eventually, we reached a tree with the outline of a doorway painted onto it. The paint was white, with hints of red. Likely the blood that the paintbrush needed. We stepped through the portal and were immediately put on the defence.


    On the other side there was an ambush of tigers waiting. Hurriedly, I deployed a wall of force. They slammed into it, snarling at us. Cream-white spittle dripped all over the barrier.


    The feeling of the knot was gone. I suspected that didn¡¯t bode well for us.


    ¡°Oh, how considerate of you fellows to join me. Marvellous, just marvellous. For a hero, you have my sincere admiration. I must admit that seeing you put that demon to use served as inspiration-¡±


    ¡­ And of course the Artist was monologuing at us.


    He was far behind the snarling cats, standing on the platform on the back of an absurdly large painted pachyderm. In one hand, he waved around a canvas with a sloppy painting of a standard on it. It was pitch black with a golden snake swallowing its own tail painted on. He wore a rainbow-coloured cloak on his back, which fluttered in the icy wind. Behind him, were the ruins we had seen from below.


    I saw no reason to just let him talk.


    I drew deeply and deployed a cone of light in front of me. There wasn¡¯t a single part of me that was willing to allow this fight to drag on. When the spots cleared from my eyes, all the tigers were gone. Drained, I folded to my knees.


    The elephant was singed, but otherwise still intact. It stomped its feet angrily and turned to face my way.


    ¡­ I should have gone for something more direct against him.


    And he was still talking.


    I started to gather myself for another strike. This one I would make sure was both more direct and fatal.


    ¡°-finding a journal detailing this location took a great deal of coin, but was clearly worth the cost. Now, thank you all for volunteering. Your contribution to my vision has been duly noted. You will be the soul of my next piece. For the next part-¡±


    Max threw a fireball at him, interrupting his speech.


    The Artist dodged aside and looked like he was about to keep talking, when my senses screamed at me. I tried to figure out what was wrong. Then I noticed that the painting of the banner had caught light.


    An emptiness blossomed inside my perception. It was ravenous, seeming to try to actively consume the essence of me, and it was spreading fast. This¡­ wasn¡¯t good.


    Don¡¯t panic.


    For the time being, it seemed to ignore the others. As if I was the tastiest meal in the room. Alarm mounting, I slammed my will back. I managed to reclaim some of what I was.


    Whatever this thing was, the experience of fighting it was bizarre. The space that it occupied inside the nebulous area that felt like me, no longer felt like me. If I was to describe it, it felt like the absence of anything at all. The feeling of the very essence of non-existence was disorienting, especially since it seemed to be competing with the idea of me.


    In the background, I saw the expression of the Artist shift into one of distress. He jumped off the back of the elephant, trying to put some distance between himself and the rapidly growing absence in reality. Max and Roland sent more fireballs his way, and I heard him yelp as he was scorched.


    Another jagged slice was carved out of me, and I grimaced, fully focusing back on my own fight. If I wasn¡¯t already on my knees, I would be by now. It reminded me of my clash of wills with the Prince of Nightfall. Only, this enemy was far less methodical, almost rabid in how it lashed out.


    It made it both easier and harder for me to fight against.


    Another attack came my way, biting into me. Each strike felt like an ever-growing emptiness. It was what I imagined Imp¡¯s power would feel like, if you could sense she was there.


    Fuck it.


    Angrily, I formed my will into jaws and took a bite out of it in return. I wasn¡¯t just going to give this thing a free meal. That¡­turned out to be a mistake. The chunk that I took out of it tasted of paradox. As if I was hungrier for having eaten it in the first place.


    I winced in pain. Right now, the absence was still winning. It was simply too fast for me to react to, and had already eaten a large part of me. Panic was starting to set in.


    Max and Roland were busy contesting the elephant, which had positioned itself between them and the Artist. The beast was tougher than expected and was giving them a rough time.


    My fight continued. I wasn¡¯t sure what I could do. All the tactics I had tried against it so far had failed, it seemed almost memetic in how fast it was able to strike out.


    This isn¡¯t good.


    What could I do? It didn¡¯t seem to adapt, or have any real intelligence at all. If I was to describe it, it was as if it was the essence of a single idea given form. It was the hole in my heart where my mom, dad and Lisa used to be. It was safety in Brockton Bay after Leviathan. A living idea that happened to be exceptionally skilled at making things absent.


    The creature was much better than me at doing that single thing. But¡­ My advantage here was that I had options. I wasn¡¯t limited to one tactic. What would be the best way to counter it? If it was absence then¡­


    Could I¡­make it present then?


    I had no idea if it would work, but I was running out of time and had no better ideas. I focused on the idea of remembering forgotten dreams, of nostalgia for events that never happened. It was the most abstract effect I had tried to force on the world so far. This was also the first idea I had tried to manifest that I had no power basis for. To my surprise, I didn¡¯t have much trouble imposing it.


    It was as if the world really, really didn¡¯t like what the creature was doing to it.


    The effect took, and the beast reeled back.


    Finally, an effective weapon.


    Unfortunately, it was still far faster at this type of combat than I was. Even with a tool that worked, I was losing ground.


    Maxime and Roland had shifted their attention away from the elephant and were trying to box the creature in with wards. They weren¡¯t proving particularly effective, but I appreciated the help nonetheless.


    I was about to suggest we do our best to run away from this thing when a word rang out.


    ¡°Harmonize.¡±


    For a moment I saw double. Two worlds, Creation and Arcadia. Then, within a radius of about  five hundred feet, they overlapped. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t take the time to appreciate the beauty of the merge because I was busy trying not to be utterly consumed.


    Then out of the sky, a very angry looking Fae lady dropped. She fell on the other side of the emptiness, but halted her descent midair by manifesting a platform of light. She was tall, light skinned and with hair of flame. The air surrounding her warped from the heat. In moments, my presence compressed again down to the smallest of balls. She stood above the battlefield with the air of someone who was clearly in their element.


    At that point, everyone except me and the horrible nothingness ceased fighting and stared at her for a moment. The absence didn¡¯t stop because I don¡¯t think it was even capable of conceiving of surprise. I didn¡¯t halt because I was certain that if I did, then I wouldn¡¯t survive. To my relief, the constriction of my essence had given me somewhat of a reprieve. The thing was only brushing up the narrowest portion of me now, but unfortunately, on the other side it was currently spilling out into the countryside.


    The merge ended, but the Fae Princess remained.


    As if the day couldn¡¯t get any worse.


    Then the Fae lady turned to me and spoke. ¡°I greet you warmly, Princess of the Court Beyond the Stars. Have you come to lay claim to the lands of Summer, then?¡± Her voice had a lilting musicality to it. Despite the distance, I could hear her clearly.


    As she talked, she bombarded the void with waves of fire and light. It didn¡¯t seem to be harming the thing, but it was being pressed back against me once more, no longer expanding on the other side.


    I shivered involuntarily.


    Somehow, I didn¡¯t think I would like her definition of warm greetings.


    The heat ramped up significantly, becoming blinding to look at. I averted my gaze, focusing solely on my fight. Most of the ruins on the other side of the battlefield had been melted down into slag.


    The Princess was absolutely terrifying.


    Maxime and Roland had both left the battlefield and moved in beside me. Their faces were pale, and they seemed to be on their last emotional legs. They were completely worn out.


    ¡°I do not intend to lay claim to the lands of Summer,¡± I shouted out. I had no idea if it was the right thing to say, but right now I could not afford to fight a battle on two fronts.


    Let¡¯s not upset the Fae, Taylor.


    Once again, I felt a presence looking in. It seemed to take note of what I said. Then, it promptly vanished. It disturbed me, but right now wasn¡¯t the time to dwell on it.


    Unfortunately, I hadn¡¯t managed to learn much about the Fae yet. The kinds of books that contained that information I needed were banned in Callow, and so I only had children¡¯s stories to go off of.


    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ Princess¡­Sulia¡­¡± Roland panted out at me. Sweat ran down his brow in rivers, the heat from the Fae was overpowering.


    I didn¡¯t know what that meant. If she operated at a similar level to the Prince of Nightfall, though, then in our current state we didn¡¯t stand a chance.


    I continued to wield my weapon against the emptiness. With the smaller surface area to defend, it was easier for me to fight back. I realized what the Princess was doing. Her attacks seemed capable of moving the thing, but not harming it. She was forcing it against me to see it finally killed. Each strike of mine, the beast recoiled as I hit at it with its complete opposite.


    ¡°Who?¡± I hissed back for clarification.


    The scorching presence I had felt from the Princess seemed to cool suddenly. It no longer felt like I stood in the centre of an inferno, but instead felt like I stood next to the fire of a hearth. I looked up at her once more, now that the light shining down on me was no longer blinding in intensity.


    ¡°Princess Sulia of the High Noon, girlie,¡± Max repeated, his face as pale as an ostrich egg.


    That still didn¡¯t help. From the way that the other two reacted, though, it was something to be afraid of.


    Not that my own experiences with Fae royalty gave me any other kind of impression.


    Sulia turned my way again, then smiled radiantly at me. ¡°News of your military prowess has reached the Summer Court. Your command of the battlefield is to be lauded. A visit to our Court on your part would be most welcome. An exchange of tactics would benefit both Courts, after all.¡±


    Despite taking her eyes off of the enemy, her assault did not let up. Slowly the two of us were whittling it away.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I noted Roland and Maxime looking at me as if I had grown a second head. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what she was talking about either. I had only ever commanded what could be counted as an army once, and I wasn¡¯t so proud of what I did at the time. If she was referring to that fight, then I wasn¡¯t so keen on seeing the Court of Summer copying the tactics I used either.


    The size of the absence had shrunk significantly. It seemed almost panicked, doing anything it could to escape from me. I was tired and worn through, but it didn¡¯t matter. Right now, it seemed that I was winning, and so I went on the assault.


    ¡°You told me you weren¡¯t in the army, girlie,¡± Maxime said reproachfully.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± I hissed back.


    I needed to think through how I would respond to the Fae Princess.


    Despite still being out of my depth, I felt more confident negotiating with the Fae than I was the last time. I had seen enough to convince me that they truly did live life entirely through narrative. That meant that there was a story in play involving me being a Princess, and the Fae were inclined to follow it.


    I really should have gone with damsel and not Princess.


    I just needed to figure out what the story was. Which was where the problems started. Was I supposed to be an ambassador of some sort? The idea that the Summer Fae wanted to make an alliance with an imaginary Court seemed absurd to me. Unfortunately, it was my best guess.


    As magnificent as I expected the Summer Court would be, I didn¡¯t want to actually go there. I didn¡¯t expect I would survive the place for very long. How could I talk myself out of a visit? Refusing outright seemed like a bad idea, she would probably take offence. Maybe try delaying for an indeterminate amount of time? Having to fight this thing and think at the same time meant I was sure to make mistakes.


    The last of the essence of nothingness was consumed, and the battle drew to a close. Then, the fires all winked out. It was an intimidating demonstration, showing just how capable the Princess really was. Looking around, I noted the Artist was nowhere in sight. I wasn¡¯t sure if he was dead or had escaped, but I would assume the latter.


    Better to be paranoid and alive, than carefree and dead.


    The Princess manifested stairs of light from the ground to her platform, and then began to descend. She stopped before us.


    ¡°We are currently in pursuit of our quarry. They are aligned with Winter¡¯s Host. Would holding off on other matters until our hunt has concluded give offence?¡± I rasped out. The air was unbearably dry.


    Please let this be the end of it.


    Whether he escaped or not, I would use him as an excuse to try and untangle myself from Fae politics. The Callowen children¡¯s stories I had read suggested that Summer was militant and valued strength of arms. It was not much to go on, but it was better than nothing. If it was true, then maybe I could use it to escape here.


    ¡°That is acceptable. I look forward to your pending visit.¡± The Fae Princess replied. She seemed pleased about something, much to my chagrin.


    Did that vague statement count as making a bargain?


    This was a mess I would need to untangle later.


    Sulia turned to the portal behind us and eyed it critically. Somehow it had survived the conflict. Stepping through, she turned around and smiled at us, then the entire thing went up in flames.


    My bubble of influence spread out again, rapidly claiming the surrounding countryside. Pockets of absence still remained, but I quickly snuffed them all out.


    All the tension from the fight drained right out of me.


    ¡°Is the Artist dead?¡± I croaked.


    Both of them shrugged.


    It seemed none of us knew.


    Roland sat down beside me and then started shaking, as if suffering from hysteria. I wasn¡¯t sure what to do.


    I turned to Max. He looked pale as well.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Girlie, if you eat out a demon, is it sex or cannibalism?¡± his voice sounded faint.


    What?


    I was too tired to say anything back.


    ¡°The creature that the two of you felled was an Absence demon. Had it merely touched Max or me, we would never have existed at all,¡± Roland stated.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    There weren¡¯t many things that could allegedly stop demons. Heroes were one, Angels another. If you were utterly mad, using another demon was a distant third.


    Guess that really did make me a demon then.


    This would make some introductions awkward. What happened when I met someone who could tell what I was at a glance? Someone who didn¡¯t live their life through a story, anyhow. Somehow, I didn¡¯t think telling them I was a friendly demon was ever going to pass muster.


    ¡°There is no doubt,¡± he affirmed.


    If that was the case, then no wonder they looked so pale.


    ¡°How can I remember? I shouldn¡¯t remember. I have a memory of something that¡¯s not.¡± Roland muttered quietly to himself.


    Because that wasn¡¯t concerning at all.


    ¡°We¡¯re fucked now, you know that, right?¡± Max said.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Because if anyone finds out about this fight, they will try to purge us for sure.¡±


    Lovely.


    ¡°Say¡­¡± Maxime trailed off.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I part opened my eyes, looking at him.


    ¡°What does Absence demon taste like?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re more hungry after you eat one,¡± I told him.


    Max smiled, seeming to find the idea funny.


    I certainly didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Is it within your ability to clean up the corruption?¡± Roland asked, his voice sounding strained.


    ¡°There is none,¡± I replied absently.


    ¡°How certain of this are you?¡± He pressed.


    ¡°It never left the full extent of my influence. When Sulia left, I claimed whatever remained.¡± I explained.


    That seemed to mollify both of them.


    ¡°Taylor, I haven¡¯t pressed you hurting but¡­ We need to have a proper talk about where you came from and how you got here, with nothing left out. Without drinks involved.¡± It was the most serious I had seen Max in a while.


    ¡°Do we really need to?¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s about another deal,¡± Max said. ¡°One day a month, all of us tells one story from our past. The ones that hurt the most. All of us are hurting, this way we can find strength from each other. You promised that you would pick yourself up, remember?¡±


    That sounded like a compromise of sorts. That they would share, because they wanted me to.


    It reminded me vaguely of Jessica Yamada, except none of us were psychologists.


    ¡°I find these terms agreeable,¡± Roland added.


    That was obvious. We all knew his story.


    It seemed I wouldn¡¯t be avoiding my demons after all.


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s imperative that we ascertain the wholeness of what you can do, Taylor. The manner in which you arrived, if others like you will arrive as well. I propose that moving forward we consider this our primary goal.¡± Roland expanded as he climbed to his feet.


    ¡°I thought you wanted to be a hero, though, go out and help others?¡± I asked


    ¡°What kind of hero would I be if I did not make the effort to assist my friends. This is your journey as much as it is mine,¡± He replied.


    I¡­ was going to have to live with that. I suppose it beat just aimlessly wandering around. It gave us a goal, even if it was one I had been actively avoiding because of how much it hurt. Find out more about how I got here.


    And risk having my hopes crushed.


    ¡°Furthermore, I would go so far as to state that we may have to journey into Praes to learn more.¡±


    While I could see his point about needing to know more about me, I also had no intention of being killed or stuffed in a bottle. Going into Praes sounded like a sure way to end up dead.


    ¡°No,¡± I shut him down immediately, ¡°Callow at most, not Praes.¡±


    ¡°But we need to determine what influence you are having on-¡±


    The battle had shown me that I was missing a lot. I hadn¡¯t even thought to try to create effects that weren¡¯t powers before running into something that did as much. So I could sort of see his concern, but I wasn¡¯t willing to take such a big risk.


    ¡°No,¡± I cut him off again.


    ¡°Say girlie,¡± I could hear the teasing in Maxime¡¯s voice, ¡°when you were planning to tell us you were a proper Princess. A high class lady like you can¡¯t be caught out with the likes of us.¡±


    It took me a moment to realize what he was talking.


    ¡°I¡¯m not. I just made that up to occupy the Prince of Nightfall,¡± I answered curtly.


    ¡°If the claim had no merit, then the Princess of High Noon would have entertained it not at all,¡± Roland denied.


    The thought bothered me. It meant that there was even more we needed to find out about. They were both right. I had been stagnating.


    Travelling as we had been had helped distract me from my funk, but it wasn¡¯t helping me find a way forward.


    ¡°Then we need to learn more about the Fae as well,¡± I admitted.


    We bickered a bit longer, then each of us took a moment to share a single story. Haltingly, I began to talk about the end of the world. I didn¡¯t mention my part in it, only the details surrounding what happened. I told them that as far as I knew, I died during the fight, then I woke up here.


    A solemn silence fell for a moment after I finished speaking.


    Max talked about what he came home to when his wife and daughter were murdered. Their entrails hanging from hooks dug into the ceiling. Roland talked about the brother he used to know, not the brother that came to be.


    I didn¡¯t know if it helped at all, but it seemed like I wouldn¡¯t be able to put off talking about the specifics of my life any longer.


    Eventually, the conversation died. The three of us rested for a moment before heading back to the cart. Reflecting on the battle, it felt like defeat. The artist had escaped from us, and we had nothing to show for it.


    In the aftermath of the fight, Roland¡¯s attitude towards me finally began to thaw. At least there was some good to come from the fiasco.

 Verism 2.03

    ¡°Whilst Inevitable Doom is a finite resource, Providence is not. That is why one should always spread the ashes of one¡¯s enemies across several kingdoms. Heroes will always find a way to claw themselves back, if they are given a chance.¡±


    ¨C Dread Empress Vindictive III


    <hr>


    In the aftermath of the second fight against the Artist, we all agreed it would be better if we made ourselves scarce from Hedges. We had been fairly out of the way during the fight, but staying in one place was just asking for trouble. We couldn¡¯t be sure if our fight was detectable from a distance by any of the more talented Praesi Wizards.


    It was much easier for me to maintain esoteric effects related to the idea of absence now. I could maintain a perception field around us without even really focusing on it. It bothered me. If I ever ran into another demon, I would need to be much more careful. I didn¡¯t want to accidentally turn myself into a completely different idea.


    We departed Hedges and travelled up to Harrow, staying there only briefly. Shortly after arrival, we departed for the Duchy of Daoine. Daoine was nominally a client state of Callow, but nobody actually treated it like that. It was ruled by its own Duchess Keegan, and she enforced her own laws through the Watch. Despite the situation, so long as the Duchy retained the pretence of being a part of the Empire, the Calamities were satisfied. Our first stop was Caith.


    We hadn¡¯t seen the Artist again, although we were all on alert for him.


    It was evening and the air was hot and clammy. All three of us were seated in the wagon. Spring rain fell down from above, which I was actively working to filter out. It was a constant strain on me. I could feel the world pushing back as I did so, and it left me feeling irate.


    ¡°Try again, girlie. Shoot your shot. See if it works.¡±


    Concentrating, I did as he asked. Focusing on the heavily damaged rat in front of us, I tried to mend its wounds. Cancerous tumours rapidly started to spread.


    I tried not to sigh.


    It was frustrating. At this point, I had given a lot of rats cancer. Probably more than the number of people that Panacea had threatened to give cancer. It didn¡¯t help that even though the rain wasn¡¯t falling on us, I felt like a wet cat. I could feel it falling on the barrier I had up around us, like a constant poking sensation against an invisible limb.


    Max undid the damage.


    ¡°And again.¡±


    There was a thump and all of us were jostled as the wheel of the wagon went over a particularly large rock. I winced as my stump knocked the side of the wagon and a splinter was lodged in. Roland mumbled in his sleep. I had no idea how he was sleeping through the weather, but somehow he managed.


    Looking at the wound, I had an idea. It was one that should have occurred earlier to me. Something we really should have tested before.


    I pulled out the splinter.


    ¡°Can you heal this?¡± I proffered my arm towards him.


    Crawling over, Max put his hand on the injury and concentrated on it. Then he shook his head.


    ¡°Come to think of it, I should have realized that earlier. Your whole body is fucked, isn¡¯t it? I bet you can¡¯t actually die, except for if a priest or hero blows you. Not that we¡¯re going to try that.¡±


    Taking everything else into account, it didn¡¯t come as a surprise.


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t like the idea of testing my mortality either,¡± I replied.


    I could certainly still feel pain.


    ¡°I think if you get damaged, your body will fix itself over time,¡± he looked at me searchingly for a moment, ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re ageing either.¡±


    ¡°Well, at least I don¡¯t have to worry about old age,¡± I feigned enthusiasm.


    Just heroes, priests and diabolists.


    ¡°Now, back to your training,¡± he admonished.


    Mumbling under my breath, I got back to it.


    About an hour later, the vague shape of the Caith walls could be made out. They rose thirty feet in the air and, in the rain, seemed to loom. Roland had woken up and was sitting beside us. Slowly, we drew up close near the gate.


    It was closed.


    I could just barely make out the figure of a member of the Watch on the walls above, lit by a lamp.


    ¡°There,¡± I pointed the figure out to Roland.


    ¡°Good evening, could you be so kind as to open the gate for us!¡± Roland shouted out.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if they would be able to hear us over the downpour.


    ¡°No entry until dawn!¡± A voice shouted back. It was a woman¡¯s voice and she sounded irate. Considering the weather, I couldn¡¯t blame her.


    ¡°I told you we should have stopped at that rest house,¡± I grumbled under my breath.


    ¡°I apologise, Taylor. I hope there is no bruising.¡± Roland looked sheepishly my way.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I waved my hand at him absently.


    Turning around the cart, we started to make our way back to the rest house. It was an hour away, so now we needed to endure even more of the sheer misery of having to sit outside during the downpour.


    As they lethargically plodded their way forwards, our mules looked like I felt.


    Another quarter of an hour passed before conversation resumed.


    ¡°Say Taylor,¡± Maxime began, ¡°now that we¡¯re not in Callow. Could you show me something from your home?¡±


    I looked to my left, meeting his sea green eyes.


    ¡°The silk clothes don¡¯t count?¡±


    He shrugged.


    ¡°They¡¯re nice, but you can get them here with enough coin,¡± he grinned at me, ¡°you told us you came from a place that sounds like the gnomes. Show me gnome weapons.¡±


    Ever since the fight with the Absence demon, I had stopped thinking of what I could do as replicating powers. It was more like I could¡­ shape matter into anything I had a good enough understanding of. I couldn¡¯t actually create anything, even when I threw beams of light, the light came from somewhere. But even if what I was trying to make was abstract, so long as I was familiar enough with it, I could turn something into it.


    The others had given me grief for a full on week after I had turned a pile of dust into the feeling of regret just to test if I could. It turns out, you can get a lot of regret out of dust.


    I knew a lot about weaving clothes out of silk. Enough to turn things into it. Replacing all of our clothing with clothing made out of silk had been something I had as soon as I realized I could. I didn¡¯t think it would offer much protection against any of the real threats in Calernia, but just having clothes properly fitted for me that I liked dramatically improved my mood. Unfortunately, I had needed to match the local styles, but that didn¡¯t take away from my sheer joy at the discovery.


    It felt like I had something from home.


    It was draining to do even though I was familiar with the process, but well worth it in my mind.


    There were many small things I knew enough about to make, forks, spoons, general utensils. Modern combat knives were a big one. Dwarven steel was rubbish and kept breaking, but up until recently I didn¡¯t have a good replacement.


    ¡°Are you sure? Guns make a lot of noise.¡±


    ¡°The deluge is so tumultuous that the sound will most certainly be drowned out,¡± Roland stated dubiously.


    Considering he hadn''t ever heard one, I thought that him commenting on the noise was out of place. We were in the middle of nowhere though so...


    Focusing on the idea of a fully loaded handgun, I tried to force one into existence. I had to put a lot of effort into manifesting it. The shape, the individual components. I had handled one enough that I felt confident I could do it and if anything would convince them about my origins, it would. Sometimes, I felt like they were just humouring me.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Soil from the ground rose up and started to change, eventually forming into the shape of a gun. It fell into my outstretched hand. The effort left me fatigued, but I doubted we would be in a fight soon.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if it¡¯s safe to fire this,¡± I admitted, handing it over to max. ¡°I probably don¡¯t know enough about a gun to get the barrel shape right.¡±


    He took it curiously, then started to move the muzzle towards his eye so he could look down the barrel.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that!¡± I said sharply, grabbing his arm.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, girlie? I was trying to see what¡¯s inside.¡± he sounded puzzled.


    ¡°That¡¯s like putting a knife blade against your eye,¡± I explained.


    ¡°How about you show us how it works, Taylor?¡±


    ¡°Stop the wagon, then.¡±


    Roland did so, bringing the mules to a halt. They glared at him.


    Taking a moment, I concentrated and pulled up a target. The mud twenty feet to our left off the road formed up into a two-foot wide red brick, with rings carved on it. The surrounding grass was short, so it stood out.


    ¡°See that target?¡± I pointed.


    It was hard to make out with the rain, so I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if they could not.


    ¡°We do,¡± they both agreed.


    ¡°Can you float this thing away from us, point the muzzle at the target, and then pull the lever. I¡¯m not sure that I can do that much at once,¡± I admitted.


    Taking into account the active perception effect and filtering out the rain, it was simply too much multitasking for me to handle. If I dropped the rain filter, I could probably do it, but I had no intention of getting wet.


    ¡°If you would indicate to me where the muzzle is, I shall do so,¡± Roland volunteered.


    ¡°The end that Max was about to look down.¡±


    ¡°Why not do it ourselves, Taylor?¡± Max asked.


    ¡°Because I have no idea how badly I messed up making it.¡±


    ¡°This course of action seems reasonable.¡±


    The gun lifted into the air, floated away from us, aimed and then fired.


    Bang!


    To my surprise, it seemed I had done a good enough job that it didn¡¯t fail catastrophically.


    A small hole carved itself into the middle of the brick.


    ¡°Now let¡¯s go inspect the target,¡± I recommended.


    All three of us climbed off the cart. I grimaced as my boots squelched in the muddy earth below. Arriving at the target, both of them looked subdued.


    The bullet didn¡¯t penetrate very far at all, just putting a minor dent in. I hadn¡¯t expected it to. For people that had only had mages as a comparison, though, it must have come as a surprise.


    ¡°How easily obtainable were these weapons?¡±


    ¡°There were background checks you needed to go through if you wanted one legally, but otherwise they weren¡¯t hard to get. Guns like these were mass-produced. That¡¯s just a handgun. There were much more powerful guns than it.¡±


    They asked me a few more questions about them, before we climbed back onto the wagon. I disassembled both the gun and the block. I wasn¡¯t sure just how much surveillance the gnomes were doing, but I wouldn¡¯t take the risk.


    We arrived at the rest house close to an hour later. Roland and I climbed off and made our way to the door, Max would handle the wagon.


    Roland opened the door, then called out. ¡°Would you grant us leave to enter your establishment?¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine, all of you come in,¡± a woman¡¯s voice responded from somewhere inside.


    Entering, I looked around. The face of the establishment was like an inviting restaurant. Oak tables were arranged neatly in a grid, four by four, with space to move between them. Supporting pillars rose to meet the ceiling and on the left, the dull yellow glow of flames flickered from a hearth.


    Taking off my muddy boots and leaving them at a rack by the door, I made my way and sat on the chair closest to the fire. Roland sat down on the chair to my right.


    That was when the owner walked in.


    The girl was dark skinned and looked to be in her early twenties. She was short, only coming up to my nose if I stood up, with long, wavy brown hair and blue eyes. She had breasts that could only be described as voluptuous, practically spilling out of her work outfit.


    Before I had even realized it, my head had hit the table.


    ¡°Nope,¡± I muttered under my breath.


    ¡°Is something the matter, Taylor?¡± Roland asked quizzically.


    ¡°Are the two of you new to Daoine?¡± her voice took on a sotto tone.


    ¡°Indeed we are. We intend to remain here for some time,¡± Roland replied.


    At least, we would be looking for answers about me here first. We suspected that the laws that the Calamities had placed on magic would be looser in Daoine, and it would be easier to find answers.


    ¡°Well, take heed. There are fell goings-on around Caith during the night. People have been going missing. Best to only go about during the day,¡± she advised.


    And there it was. Exactly what I had expected. It seemed we were in a story.


    With time, I had come to build up a picture of how being a hero worked in Calernia. Stories were powerful. They were almost like a global master effect, to the extent that it disturbed me. So long as Roland was performing actions that matched his Role, we could count on lucky coincidences to occur.


    ¡°Do you have a map of the area?¡± I asked.


    I was willing to bet I had some idea how this story went as well. At this point, I was expecting one of four things. Slavers, vampires, zombies or the Artist. I wasn¡¯t even sure if vampires existed, but with how caught up in stories this world was, it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if they did.


    She frowned at me, irritated.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not. I think you could purchase one at Azimuth¡¯s emporium. It¡¯s near the main gate, just inside Caith¡¯s city walls. Now, do the two of you want anything to eat?¡±


    And there was the next step of our ¡°quest.¡±


    ¡°Three of us,¡± I corrected her.


    Her frown turned into a scowl.


    If it weren¡¯t for the bad weather and the constant sense that I didn¡¯t belong, I wouldn¡¯t have been as annoyed by it as I was. I mentally reminded myself that just because she was a plot device, it didn¡¯t mean she wasn¡¯t a person as well. She had thoughts and feelings of her own.


    The rules of this world are completely bullshit.


    She took our orders and went off, Max came in shortly afterwards and sat down beside us.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, girlie?¡± Max asked.


    ¡°We have a problem.¡±


    ¡°Now Taylor, let us not jump to conclusions without more proof,¡± Roland argued.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet¡­something that there is a necromancer in the city killing people and raising undead,¡± I replied.


    It was the only version of the story I could think of that fit Roland¡¯s role. It could also be the Artist, but he didn¡¯t outright disappear people. Unless the people were me.


    ¡°Now, that¡¯s very specific, girlie. You that certain?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely, it seems like the kind of story that fits.¡±


    ¡°Why did you inquire as to where we could purchase a map?¡± Roland asked.


    ¡°So we could try to narrow down where the culprit is. Make a note of where the disappearances happened, find a pattern.¡±


    I was betting on the graveyard, if it was a necromancer. It would probably be the undertaker, too.


    Our meal arrived soon after. We paid for both the meal and a room for the night, then went to sleep soon after.


    <hr>


    Arriving at Azimuth¡¯s emporium, I rang a bell hanging outside. ¡°Just a moment!¡± A shrill voice called out.


    Moments later, he unlocked the door.


    ¡°Come right in and hurry up, don¡¯t let in any of the rain,¡± he groused.


    An old, weedy looking man came and opened the door. At the front of the store was a desk stacked with paperwork. Around the store was a sprawling mess of shelves. The items on them almost appeared random, it was hard to tell if there was any sorting system to it.


    ¡°An acquaintance of ours assured us that we could purchase a map here,¡± Roland said as he walked in behind me.


    ¡°A map, you say? Fine! I should have one in here somewhere, while I find it, take a look around and see if there¡¯s anything else you want. Don¡¯t try to take anything, I¡¯ll know.¡± The man harrumphed, then went off.


    The three of us all went to a stack of books on the right and started browsing through them. I doubted there would be anything to help me, but it was worth a shot.


    A few moments later, and Roland let out an exclamation of excitement.


    ¡°It seems fortune has favoured us. This is a Praesi magical treatise,¡± he exclaimed.


    ¡°On what?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Dispersing necromantic rituals,¡± his excitement died out.


    ¡°It¡¯s a necromancer, then,¡± I declared.


    There was another lucky coincidence coming to aid Roland in his quest.


    A part of me felt like heroism meant less in this world, because it wasn¡¯t truly earned. The luck of heroes actually existed here. Heroes were expected to win, most of the stories I had heard favoured them. Another part of me felt strangely jealous. What would Earth Bet have been like, if it worked the same way?


    Maybe the fight against Scion wouldn¡¯t have cost us as much as it did.


    Maybe we wouldn¡¯t have had to fight Scion at all.


    The man arrived not long after, and we completed our purchase. Leaving, we made our way to our wagon and then took a moment to talk. Max shrouded us in a ward against eavesdropping, making it impossible for others to listen in.


    ¡°You really believe it¡¯s a necromancer, girlie?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m confident in it. Confident enough, I don¡¯t even think we needed the map. We should head towards the cemetery tonight and just cut out all the bits in the middle,¡± I replied.


    ¡°You¡¯re not usually this reckless, Taylor, what¡¯s wrong?¡± Max asked.


    He was right. I was being reckless. Why?


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I frowned. ¡°It¡¯s the city. Being in it is off-putting. I can feel the wards from the city walls pushing against my senses. It makes me want to act. Let¡¯s do this properly, one step at a time.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even noticed how being in a big city affected me. It was worrying. It was just one of the many ways in which Creation was telling me to leave.


    ¡°So we continue as planned. Find a place to rent, settle in and start making inquiries for you.¡± Max said.


    ¡°That sounds good.¡±


    We planned to be in Caith for a while, best not to make a scene on the day we had just arrived.

 Verism 2.04

    ¡°One should note that the light at the end of the tunnel comes with strings attached. Rather than accepting them, I chose to remain in the dark.¡±


    ¨C Translation of the Kabbalis Book of Darkness, widely attributed to the young Dead King


    <hr>


    I opened my eyes as the early morning light shone through a crack in the shutters. We were staying in a somewhat dingy but otherwise serviceable residence. It wasn¡¯t as nice as where I would have liked to stay, being in a somewhat middle class part of town, but it drew less attention to us. A few days had passed since our arrival, and we had taken our time properly settling in.


    We had made some preliminary inroads into finding out what was happening in Caith, but were being cautious in how we went about it. Unlike when we met the Artist the first time, this city was big and there were definitely Eyes of the Empire operating in it. We were being more thorough in this investigation than the last one.


    I focused, exerting effort to clean myself and pushed against the world, then floated my grey silk shirt and trousers over and proceeded to change out of my night clothes.


    After putting on my glasses, I was ready to face the morning.


    A private bath would have been nicer. Not for the purposes of cleaning, just for relaxation. Unfortunately, that would be a bit too high class for what we were pretending to be, and I didn¡¯t feel like taking a public one.


    Money wasn¡¯t really a problem for us any more. When you could turn piles of dirt into almost anything you liked, it stopped holding any meaning. That didn¡¯t mean we acted that way, though. We still took on jobs and put on the pretence of needing it. Living as if money has no value would certainly attract attention.


    Leaving my room, I descended the narrow stairwell to the second and then the first floor. The other two were already seated at a narrow table. The entire place felt claustrophobic, like those small British matchbox houses I would sometimes see on television.


    ¡°Morning girlie,¡± Max turned my way cheerfully, then gestured to the table.


    On the table was a plate containing breakfast. Sitting down on his right, I focused carefully and started mentally slicing up the bacon and eggs. Then I picked up my fork.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Sooner or later, I expect that you will ruin a plate when you handle your food that way,¡± Roland commented.


    I shrugged.


    ¡°I can always make another plate.¡±


    Max guffawed, as if he found it to be a particularly funny joke.


    ¡°During the course of today, I shall endeavour to make connections in the criminal underbelly. I would appreciate it if Taylor could make inquiries as to where disappearances have been occurring, and then investigate the local stores to see if they have any texts which may be of use to her. Maxime, would you be amenable with investigating the local cemetery in order to alleviate Taylor¡¯s concerns?¡± Roland pontificated.


    I took a moment to translate what Roland said.


    ¡°Now that¡¯s just insulting. I¡¯m not that old. Sending me off to the cemetery already?¡± Max joked.


    ¡°We¡¯re splitting up?¡± I asked, just to be sure.


    ¡°Indeed, although regardless of what interesting diversions you happen upon, all of us should return here before the sun finds its bed,¡± Roland confirmed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this,¡± I denied, ¡°Max and I should at least stick together. It might be a waste of time, but better to be safe than end up regretting it.¡±


    ¡°We were informed that the disappearances only occur after dark, making the best use of our daylight seems like the proper course of action.¡±


    I finished my breakfast, mentally cleaned all of our dinnerware and then floated it away, putting it where it belonged.


    ¡°I¡¯m with Taylor here, Roland. We can look at the cemetery together, tonight.¡±


    ¡°I feel like this is a misuse of our time, but if the two of you are in accord then I shall agree to it,¡± Roland acquiesced.


    Reflecting on what he said, I focused more on the details of what he wanted us to do.


    ¡°You want the two of us to try to map out the disappearances?¡± I checked.


    ¡°Indeed. If you can, also look into who has disappeared and see if you can find a commonality between them.¡±


    Well, it seemed I was back to old investigative work.


    I floated my black boots over from beside the door and proceeded to put them on. I had cleaned them when we arrived, but I doubted they would stay clean for long.


    Exiting the building, Roland split off from us. I allowed a cloud of notice-me-not to fall over the two of us, then prepared to head off. Max and I started to head towards the nicer parts of town, where the Watch patrolled in force. My boots clicked against the cobbled path below my feet as we walked between the tall, narrow buildings lining either side of the road.


    ¡°Say, girlie¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Did Roland say how he planned to find the people he¡¯s looking for?¡±


    I took a moment to think about it.


    In our haste to argue against the part of his plan that involved the two of us doing something reckless, we seemed to have missed that.


    ¡°No, he didn¡¯t,¡± I admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t think going off to meet with them on his own is a good idea, either.¡±


    I knew why he wanted to talk with the city¡¯s criminal element. If the crooks were willing to deal with us at all, then we could start looking into finding a fence we could trust with finding the books we actually wanted. Finding out more about how I arrived in Calernia would probably involve looking into books on how to summon demons and devils. Even if the Black Knight hadn¡¯t put a ban on the selling of magical texts, that would still be outlawed here.


    However, the enforcement of the ban was likely laxer in Daoine than in Callow.


    ¡°Do you think we will need to rescue him?¡±


    I hoped not. Whatever Roland ended up doing, please let it not cause us trouble.


    ¡°Possibly. I should have been the one to make the connections as well,¡± I added.


    ¡°No,¡± Max denied. ¡°It fits his purpose.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if negotiating with thieves did fit the Role of the Rogue Sorcerer, but I could possibly see the connection.


    ¡°It might, but I have more experience,¡± I argued.


    Conversation petered out as we arrived at a thoroughfare that was busy even at these early hours of the morning. Stalls were set up all around it, and there was both horse and foot traffic making its way through. To our left, the west gate that we had entered through could be seen in the distance.


    Scanning the crowd, I spotted one of the members of the Watch. It was a woman clad in hardened leather armour with an open helmet. Her eyes roamed over the crowd, with the careful examination of a predator in search of acceptable prey.


    Just the kind of person I was looking for.


    ¡°Her,¡± I pointed her out to Max, then slowly began reducing the potency of the effect I had around us.


    ¡°What makes you think that dicking with the Watch is a good idea, girlie?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to cause trouble, just ask her what places to stay away from.¡±


    If anyone had a grasp on where to avoid, it would be the Watch. As far as I understood it, they were like elite soldiers. It surprised me that they seemed to be filling the role of the city¡¯s police, but I wasn¡¯t about to turn down a chance at narrowing down our suspect. I suspected they were only acting in that capacity right now due to the disappearances, it seemed like a task they wouldn¡¯t be doing otherwise.


    I didn¡¯t want to ask about the problem directly, in case that attracted attention. Instead, I would ask about which parts of the city were considered unsafe.


    I approached the woman. ¡°Excuse me-¡±


    ¡°Is something the matter? Murder, Rape, Kidnapping, Assault?¡± She snapped out.


    ¡°No, but-¡±


    ¡°Then piss off uraind,¡± she interjected. ¡°I have a job to do, and you¡¯re interrupting.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what that meant, but it sounded insulting.


    ¡°I just want to-¡±


    ¡°Kid, whatever you want, fuck off and ask someone else. You look like trouble on two legs, and I want nothing to do with it.¡±


    Well.


    It seemed that avenue of investigation was cut off.


    Max guffawed loudly from beside me, ¡°I told you that was a shit idea, girlie.¡±


    We tried a couple more of the members of the Watch, but they were all equally dismissive of us. From what I started to gather, it was more because of our background than anything else. When the Deoraithe approached them, they seemed positively charming in comparison.


    With the first idea shot down, we spent some time asking the locals on the street for the lay of the land. Max suggested we asked around at the local taverns to build a better picture, but that would have to wait until the evening. They didn¡¯t see much traffic at this time in the morning.


    The little we did learn through happenstance started to paint a more disturbing picture. All the people who disappeared were girls who were younger than twenty. They didn¡¯t share any other traits between them that I noticed. We marked down the reported last sightings as we went on the map we had acquired but¡­ They had been abducted from all over the city, even the richer sections. Maybe I had been wrong about it being a necromancer, and it was slavers after all.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    That also made little sense, surely they would pick people who wouldn¡¯t be missed? I was puzzled.


    After a brief stop for lunch, we moved on to my primary goal. Seeing if any of the local stores sold any books that could help me. It was unlikely, but it was best to look first before dismissing the option entirely.


    We started from the western side of the city. Arriving at Azimuth¡¯s emporium again, I could feel the walls of the city pressing right against me. I rang the bell. At first, there was no response. After the second ring, I heard shuffling from inside.


    ¡°You lot, again?¡± the gregarious man called out as he opened the door, ¡°didn¡¯t find all you needed yesterday. Fine, come in, come in.¡±


    It¡¯s like he''s trying to drive away customers.


    ¡°We¡¯re here to browse the books,¡± I said.


    ¡°The children¡¯s stories are that way,¡± he pointed a shrivelled finger to a shelf on the far right.


    ¡°What?¡± I was confused.


    ¡°It¡¯s obvious that¡¯s what you¡¯re after. Kid on the way, and you want something to keep them occupied.¡±


    For a moment, I just gaped like a fish. I wasn¡¯t even fat! I was still as thin as a stick, just like I had been the day I arrived here. How did he reach that conclusion?


    ¡°The father is that friend of yours who isn¡¯t here with you, obviously. Now go on, get browsing.¡±


    ¡°Girlie, when were you going to tell me that the two of you were boning,¡± Max cackled.


    ¡°Roland and I are not in a relationship!¡± I stated, somewhat indignantly.


    I didn¡¯t even like him that way. He was a good friend, but there was no physical or romantic attraction. Despite all the time we spent on the road, he was effeminate, and I liked men who had some muscle to them.


    Somewhat annoyed, I started browsing the stacks. It quickly became clear that I wouldn¡¯t be struck by providence the way that Roland had been. Eventually we did end up buying some children¡¯s stories on the Fae, but only because they might actually be useful to me if I ever ran into them again. Stories were weapons against them, and I wasn¡¯t sure if my open invitation to the Summer Court was real or not.


    The two of us moved from store to store, but no progress was made. Empty-handed, we headed back to our current place of residence and arrived a few hours past noon. Roland was not back yet, so I took some time to continue detailing my past life in my journal.


    ¡°Had any success?¡± I asked as Roland came in. He was grinning, his cheeks flush with success.


    ¡°Through a fortuitous encounter, I was able to make inroads with the local Thieves'' Guild-¡±


    It¡¯s always a fortuitous encounter.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I interjected, ¡°they actually call themselves the Thieves'' Guild.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right, girlie.¡±


    ¡°Is there an Assassin¡¯s Guild too?¡± my pitch of voice rose as I spoke.


    ¡°Indeed, but the activities of the Assassin¡¯s Guild are not pertinent to this discussion.¡± His lips curled up in distaste when saying their name. ¡°The Thieves were willing to entertain my inquiries for a substantial sum,¡± he looked my way meaningfully, ¡°but were only able to provide the barest of scraps on the disappearances.¡±


    Just go with it, Taylor, it¡¯s Calernia. It makes sense that there is a Thieves¡¯ and Assassin¡¯s Guild. Just think of them as a gang. The fact that they call themselves that is completely normal here.


    It surprised me after learning that there was an Evil Empire with genuine Legions of Terror that I could still be surprised. I would have thought after I found out that one of their tyrants had tried to steal Callow¡¯s weather of all things that nothing would be able to make me blink any more, but clearly I was wrong.


    ¡°What books did you ask them about?¡±


    ¡°I raised the subject of acquiring magical tomes, not limited to a single subject,¡± Roland explained.


    That¡­was bolder than I would have liked, but at least he didn¡¯t ask them for books on diabolism.


    ¡°Seems risky just asking them right out. Some of them are probably Praesi spies. Why didn¡¯t you try feeling them out with something safer first?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m with Taylor here,¡± Max nodded along as he spoke.


    ¡°It is quite possible that you are correct,¡± Roland agreed. ¡°However, I deemed the risk to be acceptable.¡±


    I¡­wasn¡¯t happy with him making a call about our safety without asking us first.


    ¡°And how did you decide that?¡± I challenged.


    ¡°Whilst the nature of our request is almost certain to raise eyebrows, it is highly unlikely we will be seen as heroes, merely ambitious wizards,¡± he explained.


    While I could sort of see his logic, I didn¡¯t think that made us any safer. It was still attracting unnecessary attention.


    ¡°This is not okay. You made a decision without asking the rest of us that impacts all of our safety.¡±


    ¡°Taylor was right, this wasn¡¯t your call.¡±


    Roland looked upset at being criticized.


    ¡°I was making an effort on the behal-¡±


    ¡°We know,¡± I cut him off, ¡°and I really appreciate the intent. But maybe ask our opinions before making big decisions?¡±


    Roland nodded stiffly.


    ¡°We¡¯re a group, we should decide things together. That means we talk to each other about them first. Making choices like this on your own without talking about it with us is how problems start. I know that you¡¯re the leader of our group, Roland, but this affects all of us.¡± I paused my speech, taking time to gather my thoughts. Max was nodding his agreement.


    Then, out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed that the sun was setting. I could see its dying rays shining through the still open door. Properly talking over the issues I had with this would take a while.


    We wouldn¡¯t be able to investigate the graveyard if we did that.


    I didn¡¯t like putting the conversation off, but people¡¯s lives were potentially at stake.


    ¡°We¡¯ll come back to this later, it¡¯s important. For now, tell us what you learned about the disappearances.¡±


    ¡°I can state with a high degree of certainty that none of the graveyard¡¯s staff are part of a necromantic cabal. The graveyard is allegedly run by an elderly lady, not long past seventy summers, who has called Caith her home for the entire duration of her life,¡± Roland expounded.


    ¡°I think we should check her out regardless,¡± Max added.


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°A corpse was discovered in one of the downtrodden locales within the bounds of Caith,¡± his lips pressed into a distasteful frown. ¡°It was exsanguinated.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± I muttered, ¡°now I have no idea what it is.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that, girlie? Admitting your first guess may be off?¡±


    The book had made me believe it was a necromancer. The choices of targets had opened the possibility of human trafficking, and now the corpse made it look like a vampire. All that was left now was for a painting to show up, and I would bet on the Artist.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± I muttered, ¡°let¡¯s go take a look.¡±


    I put in place the strongest perception field I could manage without straining myself, and we made our way out. It didn¡¯t take long for us to arrive at the graveyard, where Max and I started poking around. I felt a little guilty snooping through somebody else¡¯s possessions like this, but we were doing it for a good cause.


    Roland was distracting the lady who ran the place in the meanwhile. Once she had let us in, I had removed ourselves from her perception entirely. At this point, I thought this was a waste. Roland was right, it was unlikely she was the culprit.


    Still, I wouldn¡¯t drop my guard.


    Hours later, we started making our way back to our residence empty-handed. We had thoroughly checked the place, but had nothing to show for it.


    That was when we heard a shrill scream coming from somewhere to our right.


    The sun had set, and it was clouded over, the only light guiding us was from a spell which Max was maintaining. The glow it gave out was dull and did little to light the way forward, but it was enough that I didn¡¯t feel the need to make a light of my own.


    ¡°That way,¡± I pointed, then started to run, shrouded in a veil of secrecy.


    The footfalls of the others followed behind me. Sprinting down the alley, I came to an intersection. Taking a guess, I went left. There were a few winding turns before I came to a dead end. The three of us retraced our steps, then took the other path.


    Soon it became clear that the source of the scream was gone.


    ¡°Girlie, can you do something to see around us?¡± Max asked, ¡°Praesi sorcerers can scry, but we don¡¯t know how it works.¡±


    Frowning, I thought it over. When I still thought of what I was doing as replicating powers, I had tried many thinker powers and none of them had worked. Eventually I had given up the effort as futile. I hadn¡¯t experimented with sensing the world around me, though. I had seen enough that I didn¡¯t want to see for one lifetime, to not want to invade everyone¡¯s privacy a second time around.


    The failed attempts at other thinker powers had at worst given me a headache, so I saw no harm in making the attempt.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Give me a moment, I¡¯ll try.¡±


    I focused on the impression of seeing everything. Memories of the fight with Scion were still burned into my mind, and I doubted they would ever go away. It wasn¡¯t scrying, but it was the closest comparison I could think of. So long as I was able to see a person struggling against an assailant, I would have a lead for us to go on.


    To my surprise, instead of finding no purchase, my will struck against a barrier. That meant it was something I could do. If there had been no sense of resistance at all, I would have known that the attempt was futile. I pushed. There was a force pressing against me, it was strong, stronger than with anything else I had attempted. It didn¡¯t matter. Even though I hadn¡¯t been under the effect of the power for long, the memories were still vivid. I kept struggling.


    My attempt went through.


    Suddenly, I could see the world around me inside my sphere of influence in perfect clarity. Then, before I could take note of what I saw, my vision rippled outwards.


    Distantly, I felt my body fall to its knees. My mind seemed to drift out of it, floating somewhere else.


    The others were shaking my shoulders urgently, undisguised concern wracked their faces.


    At that point, I realized that I was looking beyond the boundaries of creation. It shouldn¡¯t have come as a surprise. Clairvoyant had not been limited to looking into a single world, so why would my attempt to mimic him be?


    There were more dimensions than I could count beside me. Some, I assumed, were hells and filled with all manner of atrocities. They were not what I focused on.


    I should have been more cautious.


    It hadn¡¯t occurred to me that I should have been more afraid of success than failure.


    Hovering around in a place that was not a place, there was a faceless, implacable sea of figures looming over my shoulders. Their mere presence was overwhelming, so unfathomably suffocating that I felt like I was buried under a mountain.


    While they may have been much smaller than the multitude of earths I had once observed, their substance had a depth to it which was not comparable at all.


    My body was rapidly growing fatigued from the effort of maintaining the effect, but I couldn¡¯t shut it off. There was too much information bombarding me at once, to the point where I felt like I was floating away from who I was. Without a passanger to help me interpret it all, I was simply drowning in data.


    Too...much...


    The beings didn¡¯t seem to be aware of me watching them, and their attention seemed to be focused elsewhere, but that didn¡¯t take away the naked fear that their appearance alone evoked.


    Angels, they have to be.


    Merely observing them, I could feel a wave of compassion wash over me. It was a sensation so rich that it was almost nauseating. The sense came to me that these¡­entities would almost never move themselves to hurt anyone, despite being capable of crushing most opponents instantly.


    It felt like the purest expression of a mother¡¯s love.


    It was idealistic in a way that I couldn¡¯t possibly understand. There was nobody, no matter how awful, that these beings wouldn¡¯t offer compassion to. From the smallest insect to the greatest tyrant, all were deserving of their attention. It was a silent promise that they would always be there for anyone who approached. Either as a shoulder to cry on or an ear that would listen. Right then, I knew just from a glance that they wouldn¡¯t turn away from me, and it scared me how much I desired that.


    ¡­ Simply being noticed by an Angel would probably kill me, and despite knowing that, I was still so very tempted to reach out to them.


    I clung desperately to my sanity, trying not to give in to the call. The idea that compassion could be addictive had never occurred to me. The sheer craving that the figures evoked was all the evidence I required to prove to myself that it could be. It sent shivers down my body¡¯s spine.


    It was as if the choir was singing a symphony telling Creation that ¡°this is the way the world should be.¡±


    I had never before felt so utterly terrified in response to an impression that was so nice.


    The feather-light touch of an empathic aura weighing more than a galaxy continued to engulf me as my body scrunched itself up into a ball and wept at the unfairness of it all. I was like a moth sitting next to a candle, knowing that to have the light I would need to let myself go up in flames.


    Moments later, as the strain on my body reached its limit, I felt myself black out.

 Verism 2.05

    ¡°Now, I know that you¡¯re incensed, but your anger is misplaced. Claiming all of your material possessions to outfit my flying fortress cannot be construed as thievery, it is merely aggressive taxation.¡±


    ¨DDread Emperor Inimical, the Miser


    <hr>


    When consciousness finally returned to me, I felt as weak as a newborn babe. I was nestled in blankets, and my body was caked in sweat. I tried to muster my strength to climb out of bed, but found the effort beyond me.


    So trapped as I was, I lay in bed and let my eyes roam over the cracked white paint on the ceiling. Max brought me meals, and time passed as I gradually regained my strength, while my mind reflected on what I had seen.


    It was the Angelic Choir of Compassion, I was sure of it. Not the Gods. Even that had been enough to shake me.


    It gave me an entirely new appreciation for what it was to be good.


    I had known on some level that the Gods Above and Below were real, but I hadn¡¯t truly understood what that meant. I had been treating them mentally like Scion, an all powerful alien species that for some unknown reason had decided that Earth looked like a good place to experiment. They weren¡¯t that. Creation was their sandpit, but it was their sandpit because they made it. If Scion had shown up here, what determined whether he lived or died was how entertaining they found the shapes he made in the sand.


    They didn¡¯t need to care about him or anybody else, because they could erase it all and start over whenever they wanted to.


    It scared me, but I knew with bone deep certainty there was nothing I could do about it. I didn¡¯t believe the Gods were nice, even the Book of All Things didn¡¯t really pretend they were. They made Creation to settle an argument between themselves. We weren¡¯t actually people to them, just tools to determine the outcome of a debate.


    One side was in favour of guiding people like a parent would guide their children, the other side was in favour of allowing them to guide themselves. At least, that was how I understood it. From what I had heard, some Angelic Choirs were much more heavy-handed in their guiding. Contrition allegedly favoured mind control and weren¡¯t particularly keen on free will as a concept at all.


    The memories of compassion slammed into me again. The smothering, all encompassing feeling of acceptance that I had been bathed in. Even now, I wanted it.


    It scared me.


    Part of me knew that I should be angry at them, that I should be treating this as being under the influence of a master effect. I wasn¡¯t. That made me frustrated at myself for not being able to muster resentment against them.


    It all came down to what they were.


    The Angels weren¡¯t hostile or malicious. I was convinced that they couldn¡¯t even conceive of the idea of being hostile to begin with. Compassion was just what they were. Being angry at them because I made the mistake of looking in their direction would be like being angry at gravity for pulling you to the ground.


    I didn¡¯t know how to cope with it, or how much the experience might have changed me.


    As I struggled to make sense of my feelings, the world continued to batter away at me.


    Out, out, out.


    The constant reminder that I didn¡¯t belong here had bothered me before, but I had never outright resented it. That was coming to change. If I wasn¡¯t returning to Earth someday, and I was increasingly sure that was the case, then I wanted to find a way to fit in. The sensation of not belonging had gone from unpleasant to unacceptable.


    I wasn¡¯t prepared to spend the rest of my life living in a world that kept telling me that I should leave.


    <hr>


    Stumbling downstairs, I sat down between the others. Two days had passed and while I still felt unsteady on my feet, I was able to stand up. I had made the effort to clean myself, but it was just about at the limits of what I could currently do.


    ¡°How are you, Taylor?¡± Max asked, his voice laced with concern.


    ¡°Still feel weak,¡± I rasped, ¡°but staying in bed was making me restless.¡±


    ¡°Further action on our part has been brought to a halt until you are deemed to have made a full recovery,¡± Roland said.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°Taylor, can you tell us what happened?¡± Max was busy whittling away at a piece of wood with a knife as he spoke.


    ¡°I looked everywhere when I tried to scry, not just around us. In every dimension. There was just too much information for me to process.¡± I paused, deciding if I wanted to say more.


    After that experience, I wouldn¡¯t be experimenting with modifying my senses again in a hurry. I hadn¡¯t found a way to enhance my ability to process all the information yet, and it was simply too much for me to cope with.


    ¡°I saw the Choir of Compassion,¡± I admitted, unable to keep the reverence out of my voice.


    Both of the others stilled.


    ¡°Did they see you as well?¡± Max¡¯s voice was hoarse.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they did, otherwise I¡¯d probably be dead,¡± I replied.


    ¡°That is the most likely outcome of being under their scrutiny,¡± Roland agreed.


    ¡°Girlie, I think you really fucked up,¡± Max shuddered.


    ¡°It seems that way.¡±


    ¡°I do not believe there is cause to concern ourselves with them any further, should they choose to act, it is beyond the scope of our ability to respond.¡± Roland reasoned, ¡°Furthermore, none of us are villainous in nature, the Angels should find no fault with our actions.¡±


    It was a grim assessment, but likely the correct one. I didn¡¯t like deciding not to worry about something because it was beyond my ability to control. Right now, I couldn¡¯t think of a better option.


    The topic changed back to our argument about Roland making decisions on his own. After it resolved, I made my way back to bed, too raw to do anything else.


    <hr>


    A week later and I was no longer feeling like a walking corpse. I was still weakened, but I was able to contribute to the team again.


    ¡°Have we learned anything new?¡±


    ¡°My inquiries with the thieves into the possibility of acquiring magical texts have yet to bear fruit, but with regard to the matter of the disappearances, some progress has been made.¡± Roland drummed his fingers rhythmically on the table as he spoke.


    ¡°And what did you learn?¡±


    ¡°The heightened Watch presence within the city is as a direct response to our suspected villain. They have yet to apprehend the crook, but ever since their efforts to locate the ruffian began in earnest, the disappearances have ground to a halt. It seems the villain has gone into hiding.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate,¡± I frowned.


    I didn¡¯t feel that way because I wanted more people to be kidnapped, but because it removed an easy method to track them.


    ¡°Why do you think that, girlie?¡±


    ¡°I could have tried walking around at night while you watched from a distance. Baiting out a damsel story like that would have been an easy way to catch them,¡± I explained.


    Now that I better understood what I could do, I was reasonably sure I could put up a solid defence in a fight. While pretending to be a Princess again would be humiliating, it was one of the better Roles to choose. Princesses usually live to have happy endings, after all.


    ¡°I thought you two aren¡¯t sharing sheets, now you want him to rescue you?¡± Max teased.


    ¡°Taylor and I are not-¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t sleeping together, and I can rescue myself.¡±


    The conversation paused for a moment as Max bellowed with laughter. It took a while for him to stop, but eventually a semblance of order returned to the room.


    ¡°Whilst the plan is sound in principle, it would not have worked in practice. Closer examination of the victims suggests that all of them were of Deoraithe origins.¡± Roland brought the discussion back on track, addressing my earlier comment.


    That¡­told us something. I wasn¡¯t sure what, but in my mind that ruled out slavers unless they had very specific tastes.


    While it seemed like something that a reasonable criminal would do - go into hiding as a response to increased police activity - that wasn¡¯t what I had come to expect out of the villains in Creation. I suspected that it meant the villain, whoever they were, had achieved what they had set out to do and had moved onto the next stage of their plan.


    ¡°What else has happened recently?¡± I paused, then clarified, ¡°Noteworthy events only, not trivial stuff.¡±


    ¡°During your convalescence, one of the local museums was broken into, and a display piece was stolen. It is but a minor crime of no real consequence.¡±


    That¡­sounded like a lead. Logically, there was no connection between the two crimes, but I was treating this like a story. Roland had lucked upon information relating to a museum theft as far as I was concerned, that meant it was connected. Logic could go sit in a corner, it had no place here.


    ¡°What was the piece?¡±


    ¡°A replica of Elizabeth Alban¡¯s earrings were spirited from where they are housed in the Caith museum. According to my sources, it was not the genuine piece that was taken, those are still guarded under lock and key.¡±


    Vaguely in my mind, I juggled the pieces around. Kidnappings, the theft of a display piece from a museum, the book on necromancy. If this was a story, then all of them were connected. I didn¡¯t know what role the earrings played, but I knew one thing for certain.


    If the villain needed them, and he had only stolen a display piece, then another attempt on the museum would be made.


    ¡°What could a necromancer do with the earrings?¡±


    ¡°As I am not a necromancer myself and only have the smallest understanding of the theory behind it, I cannot provide you with an accurate assessment. If we were to assume that they were after the genuine artefact, there is possibly a sympathetic link existing between them and their former owner. I am unsure on the exact specifics of what they would set out to achieve making use of that, however.¡± Roland expounded.


    ¡°Let¡¯s assume that there is a connection, and that they will make another attempt at stealing the earrings. I want you to learn everything you can from the book, and we are going to keep watch at the location that the earrings are housed.¡±


    It took some time and plans were made and then discarded in the process, but eventually we decided on a course of action.


    <hr>


    Staking out the museum after the sun had set made for an unexciting task, but it was one I was well familiar with. The three of us had split up, although we were all in sight of each other. Each of us were on a different roof overlooking the museum, that way it was covered on all sides. They were close enough to me so that I could obscure them, and now all that was left was to wait.


    It was the third night spent like this. The sky was clear, and the moon was overhead. It shone brightly, illuminating the building. Down below, the soft glow from the torches of patrolling Watch members could be seen. Idly, I tapped my fingers against the flat top of the roof I was on softly, my gaze locked on the structure.


    Time passed.


    Hours later, the guards had drifted off. It was close to midnight when something finally happened. A figure slipped towards the museum, then carefully opened one of the stained-glass windows. I let my eyes briefly flicker towards where Roland was sitting and manifested a brief flash of light beside him, then did the same for Max.


    It was my agreed upon signal if I was the one to spot anything.


    Focusing, I created bridges of force between one roof and another. In the dark, they looked like sheets dangling between the rooftops. The others crossed the bridges, making their way over to me. After previously straining myself, It took effort to do this much, but right now we needed to work together.


    The others came across rapidly, arriving at my location minutes later.


    ¡°There,¡± I whispered, pointing as I did so.


    The others looked where I indicated.


    ¡°Shall we move to apprehend the rapscallion?¡± Roland asked.


    It would have been much easier to deal with this if we could just point the Watch at the problem and let them handle it without causing ourselves problems. Unfortunately, we couldn¡¯t risk the attention.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I hissed, ¡°let them take what they want, then let¡¯s follow behind them. We don¡¯t know if it¡¯s our enemy, or an accomplice.¡±


    I was reasonably certain if this was a necromancer, they would have minions that they would send out to do the dirty work, while they sat back in whatever lair they happened to have and cackled maniacally. After being monologued at more than once, I was starting to accept that was just how Creation worked.


    I didn¡¯t want to catch the minion only to then have to interrogate them, if following them back worked just as well.


    ¡°Girlies right,¡± Max agreed.


    Roland looked unhappy, but we sat and watched as the theft took place. A quarter of an hour later and the figure started to make their escape, and we pursued them high on the rooftops. They made their way to a single storey flat roofed building near the southern wall, then proceeded to let themselves in.


    We made our way across to the building¡¯s roof, careful to remain silent. There was a member of the Watch on the walls above, and I had been told their abilities were beyond human. I didn¡¯t want to put my perception field to the test against someone who was likely trained to see through effects just like it.


    Cautiously, I made a small hole in the roof of the building and looked inside, there was nobody except for our assailant. They descended a set of stairs leading to what I guessed was a basement.


    I focused on the building. I didn¡¯t get the sense from it that I couldn¡¯t enter. That meant the building wasn¡¯t actually used as a building at all.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t anyone¡¯s home,¡± I hissed, ¡°I can enter it.¡±


    ¡°Are we, following?¡± Max asked.


    ¡°If this residence is not actually in use, I propose that we give chase. They could not have trapped it, for in doing so they would render you unable to enter,¡± Roland suggested.


    It made sense. If this place was defended at all, I wouldn¡¯t be able to enter it.


    ¡°Give me a moment, I¡¯ll get us in,¡± I whispered.


    Buckling down under the strain, I reshaped part of the roof into an open hole, then fashioned a staircase of force leading down to the cracked brick floor below. The three of us made our entrance.


    The entire place was a mess, with dirt everywhere and cracks in the walls. There was broken furniture strewn around, and stale bread left long since abandoned on one table. It was clear that it hadn¡¯t been used as a residence in a while.


    We still had not been noticed. We made our way towards the staircase quietly, careful not to disturb anything.


    It was pitch dark below. I wasn¡¯t certain how our assailant was navigating in the darkness, because I certainly couldn¡¯t do it.


    ¡°Would it be wiser for us to manifest a means by which we can see and risk alerting our foe, or remain shrouded in darkness?¡± Roland queried.


    I thought about it. In a story, if we stayed in the darkness, we would absolutely be ambushed. While our enemies would be alerted by the presence of light, we would see them as well.


    ¡°Max, make us a light,¡± I said in response.


    A gentle, blue orb appeared behind me.


    Following behind our quarry, we descended the stairs. They went down much further than expected. Despite how long it was, the passage itself looked recently excavated. Who would waste the time digging so deep, I didn¡¯t quite know. After about a hundred heartbeats, the passage eventually flattened out again and then opened into a wide open cavern.


    I gaped.


    It looked to be the ruins of a city, underneath Caith itself. If I was to guess, it would be an older version of the city which had been buried by time. Most of it was buried under dirt or rubble, but parts of it were still navigable. Other sections had been cleared out.


    Somewhere to the left, a draft wafted in. evidently there was another route leading down here.


    A somewhat precarious route to the right was cleaner than the rest. The accumulated dust from presumably centuries of neglect had been moved aside. The figure we had shadowed could be made out ahead, less than thirty feet away.


    Cautiously, we followed behind, veiled under my power.


    That was when the first of the zombies showed up. From behind the ruins of what I guessed to be a smithy, a corpse shambled out. Unfortunately, it seemed like the stranger effect didn¡¯t work on walking corpses, and they headed directly at us.


    We started to pull back. The person we were following was still unaware of us and slipped away up ahead, but that was fine. There was only a part of this place which showed signs of use, following them would be easy.


    The zombies continued to trail after us. Once I was sure we wouldn¡¯t attract attention, I reached out to them and tried to snuff them out. It was easy to do. Easy, in the same way as trying to undo the effects of the Absence Demon. Whatever it was that animated these corpses, the world didn¡¯t like it and was willing to go along with my attempt to see it fixed.


    ¡°Seems girlie was right,¡± Max muttered.


    ¡°Careful, we don¡¯t know how many of them there are,¡± I warned.


    We continued forward under the pale blue light Max provided, and were attacked twice more, before the cavern sloped down into a much better excavated rectangular chamber. The support beams holding it up appeared to be in good condition, and the room was swept free of dust. On the left, the exsanguinated corpses of twenty-two girls were stacked neatly in rows.


    ¡°What manner of monster could do something like this?¡± Roland asked rhetorically, disgust creeping through.


    I walked up to one of them and inspected it closer. The rictus of pain their faces were locked in suggested the draining had been done while they were still alive.


    ¡°Is there an advantage to draining them while alive?¡±


    ¡°The heightened emotions could contribute to the effectiveness of a ritual,¡± Roland admitted.


    I examined the room further. Opposite the corpses was a desk filled with papers. It was narrow and didn¡¯t have space for three people to stand beside it.


    ¡°You two take a look at the desk. I¡¯ll keep watch for trouble.¡±


    It was much easier for me to kill zombies than it was for them, even as weakened as I was.


    I turned away from the desk, keeping my ear out to hear what was said in the background. Directly opposite where we had entered the chapter was another path branching off. I wasn¡¯t sure how likely it was that somebody came through, but I would keep watch for it.


    ¡°Careful, Roland, it might be trapped,¡± Max admonished.


    A couple of hundred heartbeats passed and I spotted nothing unusual. The sounds of pages being flipped through was the only break in the silence.


    ¡°The necromancer appears to be making an attempt to mass animate the bones under the city, using the link between the blood of the victims as a reagent to fuel the ritual,¡± Roland stated.


    ¡°What are the earrings for?¡± I asked, not turning around.


    There was a pause as Roland flipped through pages before he made to respond, ¡°The pages here do not shed light on the matter, although the design of the ritual suggests that they are intended as some sort of spiritual anchor.¡±


    ¡°Could you safely interrupt the ritual?¡±


    ¡°With ample time to prepare, I am reasonably cert-¡±


    Which was when an ominous chanting began to echo from further ahead.


    Of course, we weren¡¯t going to have time to plan properly.


    I suppressed the urge to swear and was about to suggest we take a second to plan, when I felt a feint tugging at me from the world. It was as if something or someone was urging me forward, like the drag of a current in a river.


    It took me a moment to realize, it was the pull of a story. We had followed through with the investigation and the villain was at the final stage of their plan. All that was left was the confrontation, where the heroes usually won.


    I could have resisted the feeling. It wouldn¡¯t have been hard either, although it would have been unpleasant. But¡­if heroes were the ones favoured by fate, why not go along with it?


    ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± I said curtly, ¡°Roland, you deal with the ritual. Max and I will kill any zombies. I¡¯ll also try to just kill them directly, even if I¡¯m not sure if it will work.¡±


    If I was in better shape, I was confident it wouldn¡¯t be hard for me to do.


    The three of us proceeded down the passage. It sloped to the right, before opening into a circular room. Unlike all the other rooms, this one was actually lit up. Lining the walls were torches, flickering weakly in the dark. At the far end, there looked to be some sort of monument.


    In the middle of the room, was a figure clad in black standing on a raised platform, facing away from us. The platform was covered in intricate lines that looked to be painted in blood. They glowed ominously, purple sparks sputtering out of them. Hovering in the middle of the ritual, floated a set of earrings. The air seemed to warp inwards towards them as he continued to chant.


    Beside them, stood the person we had been trailing. In the light of the room, I could finally make out what they looked like. It was a girl.


    ¡­ And as he chanted, bones seemed to rise up out of the ground. They came together in the form of rotting skeletons, moving by magic alone. They spotted us almost immediately and started to approach.


    Reacting on instinct, I tried to reach out and kill the necromancer. They rebuffed me. I staggered, before steadying myself.


    The man didn¡¯t react, continuing to chant. The girl, however, turned our way.


    ¡°Confiscate.¡±


    The word rang out. As it did so, the ritual was snuffed out. It was as if something imperceptible had been added to Roland and taken away from the Necromancer. The man let out an inarticulate roar of rage.


    ¡°How dare you interrupt my ritual! Mirriem, see that they die, then I will complete the working.¡± He shrieked.


    Roland paled, ¡°The quantity of magic flowing through that ritual is more than I can safely contest for long.¡±


    That put us on a timer.


    Mirriem placed herself between him and us, then hurled a lance of darkness our way. With some effort, I contested it, dispersing the effect. Focusing, I started to snuff out the animated bones. Unlike the necromancer, there was very little resistance when I tried to change them. It was as if I was simply sweeping dust off of a table.


    ¡°Roland, stall the Necromancer. Max, deal with the girl. I¡¯ll deal with the corpses,¡± I ordered.


    I didn¡¯t like being pest control, but it was much easier for me than them, taking less than a heartbeat each to do it. There were many of them, though, and focusing on them one by one seemed like a waste of time.


    So I started to be creative. Focusing, I created a disc of force with a razor sharp edge, then sent it hurtling towards them. It scythed through a swath of them, then slammed into a barrier raised by the girl.


    Unfortunately, the faster rate of corpse disposal did not seem to be worth the added exhaustion.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roland trembling beside me. He started going through the motions of casting something, presumably making use of some of the power he had taken. A bolt of lightning danced from his fingertips towards our opponents. It slammed into a metal pole raising out of the ground.


    A few smatterings of particoloured light shot back and forth between Roland and the Necromancer. I was too occupied with trying to snuff out animated corpses to follow what was going on.


    I heard Maxime muttering under his breath, then ribbons of fire propelled from beside me, only to be dispersed with a gust of wind. Concentrating, I reached out to the girl and bludgeoned her with my memories of the fight with Scion. It was exhausting, but the attempt went through. She froze, then staggered. A moment later, two balls of fire slammed into her, and she went up in flames.


    ¡­ It seemed like emotional attacks were more effective than I had expected them to be.


    With no support left, it didn¡¯t take much effort for the three of us to kill the Necromancer. His death did not put an end to the ritual, however, instead the magic seemed to pulse erratically. I tried to suppress it, it didn¡¯t take much effort to do, but it was collapsing faster than I was cleaning it up. I feared some sort of explosion


    ¡°Roland, do something!¡± I called out.


    I hoped that something related to his name would help.


    ¡°The text we acquired from the quaint shop contained details on how to properly disperse a ritual collapse, can you contain it while I manage the process?!¡± he shouted back.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how long I could keep the effect under control, but I tried regardless. Max joined in, taking the time to erect wards. The entire region of space within the area painted with blood had become a dancing mess of green and purple lights. They sparked erratically, pulling the surrounding air in towards them. I snuffed them out as fast as I could, but the rate they appeared seemed to be accelerating.


    A hundred or so heartbeats later and Roland finished. The effect came to an end.


    I walked towards the monument and started to examine the writing on it. It was written in a language that I couldn¡¯t read.


    ¡°Anyone know what this says?¡± I asked.


    Roland came over and looked at it critically.


    ¡°It appears to be a war memorial for souls who gave their lives in defence of Daoine when the Queen of Blades fought here,¡± he explained.


    ¡°So I was right, the Necromancer was in a graveyard,¡± I stated.


    Both of them looked at me dubiously.


    ¡°What, I didn¡¯t specify which graveyard he was in.¡±


    The three of us started to make our way out.


    The fight was almost anticlimactic, for all the work involved in finding the culprit.


    And I found myself fine with that.


    This was our first major encounter since the last time we saw the Artist, and in the time since our first fight with him, we had learned a great deal. We had a better grasp on stories, how they shaped the world and what that meant for us.


    It was a fight against someone that seemed committed to hurting others, for reasons that we never even learned why, and in following a story it was relatively easy for us to win.


    Despite how much the narrative driving Creation concerned me, it favoured the heroes. Sure, it was arguably a less earned win, but why should people that want to do Evil have a fair chance? I had seen enough people suffering for no good reason. I didn¡¯t know why heroes were favoured in Calernia, but I was starting to find I liked it that way. After all, if people knew up front that Evil lost, they would have much less incentive to do it. That was the way consequences worked, right?


    ¡°Say, Roland, what are we doing with the earrings?¡± Max asked.


    ¡°Returning them to their owners would bring us under too much scrutiny. I propose that Taylor should take custody of them.¡± Roland replied.


    I felt the light tugging of a different story as he spoke.


    ¡°Trying to give Taylor jewellery now, are you?¡± Max laughed.


    ¡°Those were a Queen¡¯s earrings, right?¡±


    ¡°They were the property of the Queen of Blades,¡± Roland agreed.


    ¡°I¡¯m flattered, but I don¡¯t want them.¡±


    Taking possession of a crowned queen¡¯s jewellery would likely push me into a whole set of stories I wanted nothing to do with.


    ¡°Then I shall maintain possession of them until I find someone worthy to wear them, then,¡± Roland declared firmly.


    There wasn¡¯t even a part of me that doubted that he would.


    Conversation died. I took a moment to stare down at the two charred corpses of the people we had killed. As I did so, I reflected on what I felt. Rather, I reflected on what I didn¡¯t feel.


    I knew that the Angels would have felt compassion for them, but I didn¡¯t. They had performed horrific acts and earned their death in the process. Did thinking that make me Evil? I had come to regret what I did in the past with time, but never before had I considered the idea that I might genuinely be Evil.


    When confronted with a feeling of compassion that deep, it was hard not to think about it. I had killed a lot of people and never felt empathy for them. Remorse and guilt, but I had never truly felt for them in the way that I had sensed the angels would.


    Was I¡­ Broken, in some way?


    Maybe it was too high of a standard to hold myself to, but it didn¡¯t change how I felt.


    For a moment, I thought I felt a gentle tugging on my senses, as if from somewhere beyond Creation. It was like a subtle reassurance that no matter what, I was cared for regardless.


    I shuddered.


    Was the sensation real, or only imagined?


    Or had the Choir of Compassion noticed me looking in after all?

 Verism 2.0a

    ¡°If the Fae offer to renegotiate the terms of your bargain, it is evident that somewhere along the way someone¡¯s plans have gone awry. Pray that the mistake is not your own.¡±


    ¨C ¡®Essences of the Fae¡¯, written by Madeline de Jolicoeur


    <hr>


    Arlen ran through fields of frost, sheets of ice cracking underfoot. Panting, he made his way through the lands of the Fae. Despite his haste, he was careful where he stepped. Glaciers were treacherous underfoot. The light of the moon overhead lit the way, but once he reached one of his other exits, he was free to start anew.


    He was safe for now, but he would need to move fast from place to place. This was not to plan, none of this was to plan. Slowly, he was to amass a wealth of souls, then be free of his bargain. He had not anticipated the arrival of the Rogue Sorcerer, and the demon was certainly outside the scope of his vision.


    It was not until he had already captured the girl that he realized what she truly was.


    It was no matter, they could all be poured into the mould with time. The demon offered so much promise. He had imagined her to be another one of the many characters painted onto the background of the world, if one more disarmed by luck than most. That impression had faded the moment he had laid claim to the essence of her. With her alone, he could have escaped from the deal he made. Her essence was worth more than thousands of souls.


    It made him question commonly held wisdom. Both heroes and villains decried the use of demons, claiming them to be the instruments of the utterly mad. But the girl had seemed no less human than anyone else, only she could be put to far greater use.


    A crackle of broken ice from behind him. He froze stiffly. Turning, he came face to face with the vulpine features of the Prince of Nightfall.


    ¡°My lord,¡± he bowed obsequiously, his forehead chilled as it brushed up against the ice on the ground below. It rankled to submit himself like this, but he had no illusions as to the relative differences in their positions.


    Eyes to the ground, he could see the shadow of the creature as it prowled around him in circles.


    ¡°The terms of our agreement necessitated that you were to provide a single soul a month for the span of a single score of years. You have missed this month''s payment. I find you in violation of the terms,¡± the Prince almost seemed to purr.


    The Artist knew that excuses would not save him here. He swallowed a gulp. He would need to offer something that cost him dearly to earn the creature¡¯s interest, else he would lose his soul.


    ¡°Would you be amenable to renegotiating the terms?¡±


    The creature let out a bout of fey laughter. It echoed eerily against the air.


    ¡°And what is it that you would care to offer me to stay your fate?¡±


    ¡°A century, not a score of years. This I offer to you for my failure to pay.¡±


    It was a steep price to pay, but it wouldn¡¯t upset his plans. One soul a month for a century only consumed but a fraction of his time each day, allowing him to focus the body of his efforts elsewhere.


    The creature paused in its pacing.


    ¡°Five souls a month for the span of twenty years, should you wish to be free from your fate,¡± the Prince offered.


    The Artist couldn¡¯t help it, he gulped. It would be hard to avoid notice given those terms.


    ¡°Perhaps-¡±


    ¡°These terms are no longer negotiable, unless you wish to default,¡± the Prince interjected.


    Arlen tried to protest once more, but found his mouth clammed shut. He started to realize just how costly his mistake truly was. Perhaps he could ask for further clarification and maybe find his way free?


    ¡°As before, would you be amenable to equivalent payments?¡±


    ¡°Should the wares you offer hold value equal to that of over a thousand souls, I would accept it in lieu of payment,¡± the fox offered.


    ¡°Would the essence of a demon qualify?¡±


    ¡°In the event that you manage to trap the Princess again, I would accept her readily as an alternative,¡± the Prince sounded amused.


    Princess? Was she perhaps a beast of hierarchy? She was certainly not a member of the Fae courts, he had a sense when one of them approached. It was one of the peculiarities of his Name. An engrained compulsion to submit. No matter, another demon should also suffice.


    ¡°Bargain struck, then,¡± the Artist whispered, a sense of foreboding building within him.


    ¡°Bargain struck,¡± the Prince agreed. From his position kneeling in the snow, the Artist could hear the creature¡¯s grin.


    Arlen stood up as the creature walked away. It disappeared moments later. Brushing the snow off of his outfit, he started to move towards one of his many existing exits. The terms as agreed upon were too risky for him to dare meet, but he had plans for how to escape his fate.


    The Prince of Nightfall was willing to accept demons as an alternative form of payment. Finding them would surely be challenging, but after his first encounter with one, he was confident in his ability to contain them. Now it was only a matter of beginning his work anew.


    <hr>


    Running off into the depths of Arcadia once more, he realized that this time he might have put too much paint on his brush. Were it not for the timely arrival of the Princess of High Noon, his life would surely have been blotted out.


    The lands of Summer passed him by as he continued to move between dense jungle foliage.


    Much to his dismay, the demon of absence did not share either the malleability or compliance of the demon girl. Arlen had expected it to start shaping the landscape within its prison, much like the girl had. Unfortunately, once the bindings on it had been shattered, it had begun to consume the prison instead.


    It had only now occurred to him that perhaps he should perform further investigation into the different types of demons, for it seemed likely that not all types would function the same way. Finding more of the same class as the girl was likely the best course of action. The most expedient solution would be to just recapture the girl. Much to his irritation, it was unlikely she would allow him to do so.


    The dense greenery gave way to dead shrubs and frozen ground as he crossed the boundary between Summer and Winter. His jogging slowed to a walk. The lands of Summer were not safe for him to tread, considering the bargain he had made, but in Winter he could freely move.


    Provided he did not default on his payments, he could call the lands of the Winter Fae home. It was then that the sound of the breaking of a branch behind him forced him to still his movement.


    From just outside his perspective, the figure of the Prince stepped into view. Before he could even react, his head slammed onto the frozen ground.


    ¡°My lord, to what do I owe the pleasure?¡± he croaked.


    To his knowledge, he had kept to the letter of his agreement. Why is it that the Prince¡¯s visage seemed as cold as a winter¡¯s gale?


    ¡°Your debts for the past three months are due,¡± the creature declared. ¡°It is good that you have appeared before me, rather than run from fate.¡±


    ¡°This is not the case, I have stuck to the terms you offered me,¡± the Artist protested, raising his eyes. It was the truth, he could not lie to this creature.


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    The being looked down at him, puzzled, then let out a merry laugh.


    ¡°A fine jest this is, a gift that is not a gift. But even should you have succeeded, the essence of absence is no Princess. You would not have escaped from your debts.¡±


    The artist licked his lips, dry as they were with the cold. He was about to ask for clarification, when the Prince began speaking once more.


    ¡°In my eyes you have breached our agreement, and yet in yours you have not. For this and this alone, I shall be merciful and stay your demise.¡±


    That was fortunate. Arlen doubted that if it came to conflict, he could beat the Prince in a fight.


    ¡°Thank y-¡±


    ¡°That does not mean there shall be no consequences. I believe that an amendment to our agreement is in order.¡±


    ¡°What is there to amend?¡± the Artist asked.


    ¡°Three paintings you shall gift to me. Three landscapes, seeped deep in souls. The first shall be a place of loneliness. It should rise up high, peak jutting above the clouds but stand with no kin to console it. The second shall be a place of mystery. Hidden, shrouded, with many secrets to find. The third shall be a place of comfort. Warm, inviting, nestled away in a cavern most dark,¡± the Prince paused.


    ¡°What else?¡± Arlen knew there would be a catch. If this was all the Prince wanted, it would be easy for him to finally be free.


    ¡°The full payment owed shall be divided between all three paintings. The task must be done by the end of three years, or the debt will finally be claimed.¡± the Prince finished.


    The term seemed ludicrous, impossible. Three years to gather over a thousand souls, divided between three paintings. There was no way Arlen could manage undetected.


    ¡°Could the timeframe perhaps be extended. Say thirty years and twice the number of souls?¡± he choked out.


    ¡°I have no interest in changing the terms. Twice you have failed to give what you agreed upon. Twice I have stayed my hand. There will be no third offer. Three paintings you shall gift to me by the dusk of the third year. They shall be handed to me all at once, or not at all. Fail to deliver, and your soul is finally forfeit.¡±


    Scrambling for a counteroffer, the Artist recalled the Prince¡¯s seeming interest in the girl. ¡°Would the demon girl be an acceptable substitute?¡±


    The Prince¡¯s lips twitched, as if he considered it a particularly amusing joke. ¡°The first time I ever stepped into Creation, I found it a brutish, ugly thing. A pale imitation of Arcadia painted with lesser pigments. While my fellows rejoiced across the fresh playground, I began to withdraw.¡±


    Arlen said nothing, not knowing what to say. Disrupting the Prince seemed unwise, even if this digression had nothing to do with their existing arrangement.


    ¡°I paused after coming across a fox,¡± the Prince continued with a smile. ¡°It had fallen into a trap. A snare that caught its foot. It knew it would die, if it remained there.¡±


    ¡°What happened then?¡± the Artist asked.


    ¡°It chewed off its foot, and it escaped,¡± the Fae answered.


    ¡°Forgive me, Prince, but what does this have to do with my debt?¡±


    ¡°Provided you capture and bring her to me, you may also walk free of your debts,¡± the Prince of Nightfall answered, grinning at him. ¡°Chew off your own foot, little painter. Let¡¯s see what pretty pictures you can paint with your own blood.¡±


    A chill ran down Arlen¡¯s spine.


    The Artist did not have a good idea on how to see it done, but if the opportunity presented itself, he would try regardless. Containing her the first time had seemed trivial at first, but that was before she became aware of the attempt. No matter, catching a single demon was likely easier than painting thousands of people and escaping notice. He would pursue knowledge on the subject, while whittling away at his debt.


    As the creature left, Arlen started making his way to one of his gates in Procer. Staying out of Callow seemed like a smart idea until he had recovered from the fight.


    <hr>


    Arlen walked between the tents on a battlefield near Lange. He had struck upon the idea of working as a medic¡¯s assistant, helping to dress wounds during the ongoing civil war. He was just another faceless member of the masses, and it allowed him easy access to the blood of so many soldiers.


    Arriving at his tent, he set out his easel, fixed a canvas to it and loaded up his brush. Then he began to paint. First came loneliness. For this he painted a solitary peak, jutting up high above the clouds. The shape of the mountain was unnatural, with a sheer cliff face. A single path carved through it, a gorge leading from top to bottom. At the precipice, shrouded in fog, the vague shape of a building hid.


    Reaching to his side, he grabbed a vial of blood and opened it, then lightly dabbed some of it on the brush. The colour seeped into the unicorn hairs, then seemed to vanish entirely. Turning back to the landscape, he felt the shape of his Name as it rose up within him.


    It was a mosaic. His mosaic, painted out of the hopes and dreams of everyone he had claimed them from. Reaching out with his brush, he added lines to the cliffs.


    ¡°Impart,¡± he spoke softly.


    Something intangible ran down the brush and entered into the painting. It was his first bestowal, the first claim he had made to power. It took the very essence of a person and imbued it into the paint. Someone somewhere else in the camp had entered a dreamless sleep from which they would never wake up.


    As he continued to paint, he mused over his dilemma. His plans to canvas the many battlefields of the civil war were making good progress. Many of the deaths were excusable as something else. Even better, by maintaining the route he had sketched out, it was possible he could pay a visit to the same armies repeatedly once enough time had passed between visits. Simply by moving from army to army, it was likely he could meet the demands of the Prince.


    <hr>


    Two of the three pieces commissioned by the Prince of Nightfall had been completed when disaster had struck. Arlen was in the process of inking his exit on a tree, ready to move on to the next battlefield, when a feeling of wrongness came to him. Alert, he scrambled to complete the passage, then a word rang out from behind him.


    ¡°Shine.¡±


    He dove through the partially finished doorway, his precious paintings cradled carefully under his arms as he did so. Panicking, he touched one of his other works and spoke.


    ¡°Manifest.¡±


    Paint came to life, animated by the force of one of the souls he had taken. He could hear their tortured shrieks as they were forced to obey his whims. The veil that his paintings placed over their eyes was shorn away, and the true terms of their sentence made clear to them. No matter, even knowing they were merely fragments of his mosaic, they would serve his whims regardless.


    Three painted tigers launched themselves at the old man that stood on the other side. Another beam of light slammed into one of them. Judging by how the fight was progressing, he would dispose of them quickly. The victory of what Arlen assumed to be a hero seemed all but assured, but he had already succeeded in drafting his escape.


    Hurriedly, the Artist slashed his brush across the entrance, breaking the connecting lines. It shimmered for a moment, then vanished. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned around and took in the snowy wasteland, lit only by the light of the stars. There was no moon out in Arcadia this night. Travel would be dangerous, but it seemed that for once fate had been on his side.


    He had escaped with his paintings and only lost three souls in the process.


    <hr>


    Arriving in Callow once more, Arlen did little to suppress the frustration that was bubbling up inside. He passed between the gates, ignoring the splendour above him. Usually a scene like this would move him to paint, but the joy had long gone out of the process.


    He had made so much progress. After the first commission had been complete, he had quickly progressed on the second. A mountain lake with an island in the centre, covered with mangrove trees and ruins. Darker colours were used, and it was shaded in a way to hint at something hidden deeper within. Despite how many soldiers had fallen into endless slumber, the connection had not been made.


    Then the old man had shown up.


    He was unsure how the hero had done it, but news of his actions had reached every battlefield. They had all been warned to beware of a travelling artist. Camp followers were carefully checked for the possession of brushes or oils, with what seemed to be a tacit agreement on all sides of the civil war to ban the ownership of both.


    He had risked sneaking into some less well defended encampments, but after losing an ear in an escape attempt and almost losing one of the Prince¡¯s pieces, he deemed it no longer worth the risk. He had tried the larger cities next, only to find out news of him had spread to them as well.


    It was only through careful questioning, he was able to discover the Name of his opponent. The Grey Pilgrim. The man seemed to have great influence with the church, enough to spread news of him from one side of the Principate to the other.


    So he had left once more, returning to Callow. Much time had passed since his departure and he was short over three hundred souls. Were there a war in Callow, claiming the remaining lives while remaining unseen would be an achievable task. To his dismay, Callow was stable. The Calamities ruled with an iron fist, and disappearances on the scale he needed would be quickly noticed.


    And now the third painting loomed like an executioner¡¯s axe overhead, all but ready to descend. It sat incomplete. The finished landscape was supposed to be an underground city carved into the walls of a cave, but only the barest outlines had been done.


    Moving from inn to inn, the Artist looked for a place to stay. Moving between armies had necessitated that he put a stop to the previous life of luxury he had lived. It was one more slight among many and meant that he could not afford to stay at the wealthier parts of town. Finally, after half a bell of searching, he found acceptable accommodations in an out-of-the-way inn. It was secluded down a narrow alley that he likely would not have found were it not for the cacophony raised by a bard. Aside from the owner, they were the only other occupant.


    He had offered to paint her. An actual painting, not a trap for once, since he couldn¡¯t afford to risk his current home.


    All she had done is shook her head and give him a drunken grin.

 Verism 2.06

    ¡°A misguided soul championing contradictory causes may be in the process of genuine change, but that makes them no less a hypocrite for it.¡±


    ¨C Quote attributed to Tariq Isbili of the Dominion of Levant


    <hr>


    After spending over a year in Caith, we had finally left. We had scoured every corner of the place and no progress had been made. Roland and Max had even made the effort to talk to wizards that were too dangerous for me to meet personally. We knew far more than I cared to about how to summon and bind devils, but information on demons was sparse. If I was villainously inclined and actually able to use magic as Maxime and Roland alleged I could, by now I would probably be a reasonably capable diabolost.


    Roland¡¯s Name had offered me no help at solving my problem at all. Rogue Sorcerers, it appeared, did not help demons find homes.


    ¡°World still fucking you over?¡± Max asked.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I grimaced. The road we were on was especially uneven, and another bump against a rock jostled me from side to side. I was half tempted to smooth it out myself just for a comfortable ride, but then I would have to actively contest with the feeling of nails on a chalkboard.


    The longer I had spent in Creation, the worse the feeling of not belonging became.


    ¡°How bad? Are the Angels making out with you again?¡±


    ¡°It feels like being hugged, not like being kissed,¡± I told him again. Not that it would do anything except encourage him.


    Maxime cackled merrily. With that laugh, he was excellent villain material.


    I never should have mentioned that the Angels are watching over me.


    It had become obvious in the time that had passed since that the Choir of Compassion had taken an interest in me. If they wanted to, they were able to interact with some otherworldly part of me that wasn¡¯t entirely anchored in Creation. Whenever they did so, I could feel a vague sense of comfort drape itself like a blanket over my metaphysical shoulders.


    They didn¡¯t do it often, usually only when my feeling of estrangement was especially bad. I knew that their intentions were benign, that they were trying to show their sympathy in the only way they were capable of. That didn¡¯t prevent me from feeling vaguely like a wild horse that was being taught to become accustomed to touch.


    ¡°I apologize once more, Taylor, were it not for my suggestion, your situation would not have degenerated to this extent.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine Roland,¡± I turned my head to the left, facing him, ¡°I would have tried replacing my arm anyhow.¡±


    I turned away quickly, the glare of the morning sun harsh in my eyes.


    ¡°This does not excuse-¡±


    ¡°I said it¡¯s fine,¡± I cut him off, ¡°besides, it isn¡¯t just the prosthetic arm that was the problem.¡±


    Trying to graft on a prosthetic arm had been a mistake, although not for the reasons I would have expected. The moment I had attached the piece, the sense of alienation had amplified dramatically. I had removed it almost immediately, but the damage had already been done.


    Replacing my arm would have to wait until the larger issue was solved.


    My ability to manipulate biology was still not good enough to try repairing my arm that way, but I expected I would have similar complications there as well. The only positive discovery was the confirmation that I didn¡¯t appear to be physically ageing. It¡¯s so reassuring knowing that you¡¯re destined to die young.


    ¡°Your belief that the shift in your demeanour is the cause of your distress has yet to be proven.¡±


    ¡°We agreed it¡¯s the most likely reason. The more I change from what I was like when I arrived, the worst the problem becomes.¡±


    Which in theory meant I could undo the damage by regressing. The trouble was, I liked the person I had become.


    We passed behind the shade of some large pine trees. The early morning chirping of weaver birds called out from above.


    Max looked like he was about to open his mouth. Probably that same old stale joke about invading one of the hells again. I swear, the old man needed some new material.


    ¡°No, Max, I don¡¯t want to live in the hells. Even if I could clean one up, I want to be around people. I¡¯m not putting myself in a prison locked away from the world.¡±


    I¡¯d made friends in Calernia. People that I cared about. I had come to accept that Creation was my new home, even if it hadn¡¯t accepted me yet. Despite how backwards the world was in some ways, I didn¡¯t want to leave it. That didn¡¯t mean that I didn¡¯t miss my old friends but¡­ Missing them wasn¡¯t the same as wanting to go back to Earth.


    This was a world where heroes could win.


    ¡°Seems it''s going to rain tonight, Roland. Girlie finally admits she deserves to be happy. Now we just need to find her some young lad with firm muscles, and she can retire out in the countryside.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m ready to retire just yet,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Oh, then what do you want to do?¡±


    ¡°¡­ I think I want to try being a hero again in my own right, not just following Roland around.¡±


    It would have to wait until living in the world no longer hurt, but gradually the idea had started to grow on me. This was a world where heroes could win. Not only that, it was the kind of world where idealistic heroes could win. I could try to be the type of person I would have wanted to be as a kid. The person that never compromises with evil and always tries to do what¡¯s right.


    Idealistic didn¡¯t need to mean stupid. I wasn¡¯t about to go charging into Callow and try to start up a civil war, that would likely cause more suffering than it ended in the process. To me, it meant finding a solution that resulted in the least amount of harm.


    The Calamities did need to go, that much was certain to me. Being less bad than comically Evil didn¡¯t make them good. But they weren¡¯t the target I had my eyes on. There would always be another hero who rose up to fight villains like them. I had set my eyes upon what I saw to be a larger problem.


    ¡°Just want to get up and abandon us, do you?¡± Max sounded amused.


    ¡°No, no, not at all,¡± I said hastily.


    ¡°Would you be so kind as to reiterate what exactly Taylor had reflected on during last night¡¯s talks?¡± Roland teased.


    Our monthly discussions about past events had continued. I was still holding off about the exact details of what I did in the fight with Scion, but I felt that sooner or later I would be ready to speak on the subject. To my surprise, I found that sharing what I had been through with others was helping me to cope. They forced me to be introspective, to face the parts of me that I didn¡¯t like and think about what I could do to change them.


    Maybe Lisa was right. Perhaps I should have reached out for help sooner after all.


    ¡°Girlie told us she regretted leaving her friends behind.¡±


    I flushed with embarrassment.


    ¡°I¡¯m probably going to need some rules for myself, so I don¡¯t make the same mistakes.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t fuck off without your friends can be the first of those rules.¡±


    ¡°Rule two can be, ¡®ask others for help when I need it,¡¯¡± I contributed, playing along.


    ¡°As a corollary to that, the third principle can be, ¡®accept help when it is offered to you in earnest,¡¯¡± Roland suggested.


    ¡°That¡¯s almost like the same rule,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Not entirely, girlie.¡±


    ¡°As a change of topic, would you care to elucidate what you find unsatisfactory about how I aim to improve people¡¯s lives?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with it. I like helping you help people. It¡¯s nice to make a difference for them. But I¡¯ve realized something about Calernia. Heroes have been winning for thousands of years, but villains keep appearing.¡± I explained.


    ¡°This is to be expected. Villains are likely to surface until the arrival of last dusk,¡± Roland stated.


    The three of had grown more experienced as we travelled, and my opinions on heroism in Calernia began to cement. The idea of stories favouring heroes no longer bothered me, but something else did.


    ¡°But it means that even when we win, we aren¡¯t actually winning. If we were, there wouldn¡¯t be any villains left at all. If I¡¯m going to be a hero in my own right, I want to make a real difference. I want to do something that matters.¡± I emphasized. ¡°Right now, we might as well be tilting at windmills for all the good it does in the larger picture.¡±


    ¡°Would you care to explain to me the meaning behind the phrase ¡®tilting at windmills?¡¯¡± Roland inquired.


    ¡°The term comes from a story in my homeland. It means to fight imaginary enemies. The villains we¡¯re fighting obviously aren¡¯t imaginary, but they aren¡¯t the real problem either.¡±


    There was a lot about Creation I wanted to mend. Calernia felt¡­broken. As if the continent itself was locked in a stasis. Never progressing, never moving forward. It felt like the mental state I was in, shortly after my arrival.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Perhaps I should adjust my expectations. Learn to live with the idea that many things that would be considered atrocities on Earth were seen as normal here. I wasn¡¯t willing to accept that. Villains were much worse than they were on Earth. Furthermore, the world wasn¡¯t ending. There was no need to compromise with them. I saw no reason to not just see them all gone.


    Just because I wanted to stay here, didn¡¯t mean that there weren¡¯t parts of it that I wanted to change.


    When I finally championed my own cause, I wanted the victory to be permanent.


    ¡°You sure you can¡¯t just retire on a farm somewhere with a handsome man, girlie? You told me you don¡¯t want to make new regrets, and this sounds like an easy road to more of them.¡±


    I shook my head in response.


    ¡°Do you have any notion as to how you would achieve such an outcome? I am not opposed to the idea, provided you have a plan to act on.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I admitted. ¡°But when I do, I want us to work on it together. If you¡¯re willing to come along, at least.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how to achieve a lasting victory. I had no illusions about being smarter than the brightest minds on the continent. The Calamities had been successful villains for over thirty years in a world where villains were expected to lose. That told me all that I needed to know about how capable they clearly were. All I had was a different perspective to them.


    That didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t willing to try to figure it out.


    Maybe it was foolish to expect to do better, but this was a world where a close to perfect answer might just be attainable. So I would try to do it, even if I expected it to be nearly impossible to achieve. I wasn¡¯t willing to be satisfied with a bunch of comparatively easy wins that would undo themselves a decade after I died.


    In a world ruled by stories, surely there was a story that would make that victory stick.


    Finding it was something for me to aspire towards.


    For now, I stuck to small heroics. Just because I didn¡¯t know how to fix the big picture yet, didn¡¯t mean that there weren¡¯t little things that I could do to help. Helping others was one of the few coping methods I had against the constant sense that I didn¡¯t belong.


    It was important to me that whatever I did was something I didn¡¯t come to regret afterwards. I recalled a talk I had once had with Glenn Chambers. It had been right at the end of the world, and I had admitted to him that I hadn¡¯t made for a good hero.


    I would try to be a good hero this time around.


    ¡°It would be my honour to join you on such a venture.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll both be following,¡± I replied, smiling. ¡°That can be rule four. Taylor isn¡¯t in charge. We find the right person to lead us, then help them every step of the way. It would be too easy for me to start rationalizing making bad choices again if I¡¯m the one deciding what we do.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure I could stick to that rule. Most of the authorities I had heard of in Creation were worse than the ones on Earth Bet, but I was afraid that if I was the one in charge that I would start to regress. It was a hope of mine that there was someone out there that I could trust to play second fiddle to, but I wasn¡¯t holding my breath.


    ¡°What would you do should the leader come to propose a plan that you find morally reprehensible?¡±


    ¡°Rule five: Girlie listens to her conscience first,¡± Max bellowed.


    ¡°Here¡¯s one for Roland. When your friends tell you to fix an outstanding problem, don¡¯t leave for later,¡± I proposed.


    He turned away, wincing, but didn¡¯t deny my suggestion. ¡°I find that you too would benefit from the wisdom of following that. How about we note it down as your sixth law?¡±


    That was¡­ A fair point.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like the word law for this. I broke a lot of those, and don¡¯t want to get in the habit of breaking these.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you should endeavour to break the law less,¡± Roland chided.


    ¡°Which of us is the Rogue?¡± I said.


    ¡°That comparison has no merit. When I cross the law, it is only done for the benefit of others.¡±


    ¡°That was what I said, too.¡±


    Roland looked as if he had swallowed a lemon.


    Rather than provoke an argument, I decided to change the topic. ¡°If we don¡¯t find what we need in Daoine, where should we look next? You told me the Golden Bloom is off limits, so we will have to search somewhere else.¡±


    Much to my dismay, I had learned that elves in Calernia were not the happy hippies that Earth fiction had led me to believe I would find. They were highly xenophobic racial supremacists who would try to kill me on sight instead.


    ¡°In the event that our quest proves to be unfruitful, it may prove necessary to return to Callow proper and begin to take larger risks.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like the idea of being right under the noses of the Calamities again. But if there was no other option, then I would consider it. At the rate the discomfort was increasing, I would be a miserable wreck within the course of a decade.


    I was about to respond to Roland when a particularly nasty pulse reverberated across the essence of me. I grimaced. It was the world pushing back against me harshly. They occurred infrequently, and we hadn¡¯t found a method to deal with them yet.


    ¡°Need to lie down again, girlie?¡± Max sounded concerned.


    ¡°I do. This one¡¯s bad.¡±


    ¡°Go sleep then, Taylor.¡±


    I moved away from the front of the wagon and lay down near the rear. Closing my eyes, I tried to ignore the knives that were digging in to the back of my head. What felt like hours later, I finally drifted off.


    <hr>


    I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me.


    ¡°Five more minutes,¡± I mumbled irritably, the afternoon sun pleasant against my skin.


    ¡°Girlie, wake up,¡± Max shook me more insistently.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I said, opening my eyes.


    Suddenly, I heard a shriek from up ahead.


    Hurriedly, I sat up and looked. In the distance, it seemed that one of the merchant convoys was under attack by roadside bandits.


    ¡°As if the day couldn¡¯t get any worse,¡± I fumed.


    ¡°Now that you are awake, we need to swiftly settle on a course of action,¡± Roland commented.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll deal with it.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure, girlie?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m certain.¡±


    ¡°How are you intending to resolve this scuffle?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll grief bomb them,¡± I explained.


    They could have a taste of my past regrets. There were plenty of them to go around. It took a lot of negative emotions to completely incapacitate people, but it took comparatively little effort for me to make them. With a view of a full on army, I suspected I could take them all out at once.


    ¡°What about the merchants, girlie?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll recover. It isn¡¯t permanent.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t in the mood for a fight. With time, it had become clear to me just how effective emotional attacks were. I didn¡¯t need to be able to tell who was causing problems to douse them all with a heavy helping of misery. Let them all fall over in a puddle of tears, and we could sort it out afterwards.


    The other two looked at each other, their faces conflicted, then nodded my way.


    ¡°That is an acceptable resolution. I dislike the manner in which it does not discriminate between forces, but it ensures an outcome with minimal casualties.¡±


    Reaching out, I drew deep on the emotions I felt after the fight against Scion. From the moment right before I died and landed in Calernia. I shoved the idea in the general direction of the conflict. Some grass beside the road shrivelled and died, then the sounds of fighting drew to a stop.


    The effect was only short term, so they would all eventually recover from it. But in the meantime, it would incapacitate our foes without truly hurting anyone else.


    We moved in closer.


    There was a group of approximately thirty people. All of them were lying on the dirt road, curled into a ball and sobbing. I felt a pang of guilt.


    Fuck, was I too harsh here?


    The bandits looked like poverty-stricken men who hadn¡¯t eaten in days. Their clothes were a mess of rags and I could see their ribs.


    ¡°Now I feel really bad,¡± I muttered. ¡°If I could just make them food right now, I would.¡±


    ¡°As a seventh guiding principle, I suggest the following: ¡®try to see matters from other people¡¯s perspectives first,¡¯¡± Roland chided.


    It was a sound point, but now hardly felt like the right time to bring it up.


    That was when five men carrying whips walked out from between the trees to the left of the road. They were led by a pudgy man in flamboyant clothing.


    ¡°What are you waiting for, slaves, I ordered you to attack them,¡± he shouted.


    As if through magic, welts started to appear across the slaves¡¯ backs.


    Whimpering, they began to climb to their feet.


    I wasn¡¯t just about to let this happen, so I doused the slavers with a heavy blast of emotion as well.


    Seconds later, they had crumpled to his feet and was sobbing in the grass.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just gut them, girlie? They deserve to die anyway.¡±


    I shrugged, ¡°I can kill them if we need to, but I¡¯d rather just turn them over to the Watch. They were the ones who attacked, nobody would bat an eyelid for what I did. If we kill them, it complicates everything.¡±


    I felt gossamer threads lightly brush against my presence. They seemed lost, though, unable to latch on. As if they were trying to attach themselves to me specifically, but couldn''t find somewhere to fit. Odd. Was Creation attempting to fit me into a story? A part of me hoped as much, it meant that maybe there was a chance my problem could be solved.


    Roland had theorized that if it was possible for me to earn a Name, it was one of the ways I could fit myself into Creation. What kind of story would this be? It didn''t feel like the usual chance encounter on the road. What made it more disturbing is that the threads didn''t attempt to connect with Roland at all.


    For a fight that was supposedly part of a story that was attempting to involve me, it came as a surprise to me how easy it was. That, more than anything else, was cause for alarm. The story hadn''t managed to grab onto me. I suspected that if an encounter this easy was trying to attach itself now, then I could be certain that a story more challenging was coming down the line.


    ¡°Fair enough. If you ask me, they don¡¯t deserve to live,¡± Max spat at one side, ¡°them monsters from Stygia like to inflict their cruelties on others without knowing the taste of the lash themselves.¡±


    ¡°I find my opinion in accord with Taylor. The Watch will almost certainly sentence them to hang. There is no need here for us to be the hand that metes out justice, it would merely invite trouble when the law here should suffice.¡±


    The three of us approached the scene and started to take charge. It took a couple of hours before a Watch patrol finally showed up and took over. I likely would never find out what happened to the men, but I didn¡¯t need to either. Creation wasn¡¯t kind to crooks that were caught.


    Hours later on the road, the three of us passed time silently watching the stars when Roland called out, ¡°Does the idea of debating the merits of various political systems appeal to either of you?¡±


    It had come out of nowhere, so I was entirely surprised.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t really think the idea sounds that exciting.¡±


    ¡°Come on girlie, give it a go. It beats looking at more grass. Each of us chooses a side on something. Even if it isn¡¯t an idea you believe in. It¡¯ll be fun.¡±


    To me, this sounded more like a way to start team problems.


    ¡°There are many insights that may be gleaned from talking to someone almost entirely removed from Creation. Comparing and contrasting our political systems may lead to some fascinating discoveries. Your perspective is unique, after all.¡±


    ¡°Fine. You make a good point. I am just stating up front that I see this leading to a fight.¡±


    We wiled away the rest of the night arguing the merits of democracy. To my surprise, I had fun. Neither of them believed the concept could even work, considering the local version of it. In a world like this, I struggled to conceive of it working either.


    Functional democracies didn¡¯t make for good narratives, and so a story was guaranteed to kill one in the crib.

 Verism 2.07

    ¡°Whilst children meet all the right requirements for joining the Legions of Terror, they have an unacceptable mortality rate. Adults, at least, know better than to question what I say.¡±


    ¨C Dread Empress Sanguinia II, best known for outlawing cats and being taller than her


    <hr>


    After leaving Daoine, we travelled to Laure. It had taken us two years of scouring Daoine from one side to the other to finally admit we were making no progress. Laure was one of the larger cities I had seen so far. At a guess, I suspected it had a higher population than Brockton Bay.


    It was also undeniably going through a time of troubles. The city was a pit of depression so deep you could see the moon out the other side.


    The three of us were renting a small apartment beside a tavern called the Rat¡¯s Nest. The place was a dump, but it was the type of place we needed to stay at for Roland to keep in touch with his connections without attracting attention.


    The late morning sun shone through the door we sat beside in the Rat¡¯s Nest. Max tapped away at the corner table, faintly humming a marching song as he did so. Roland had raised wards against eavesdropping, but it probably wasn¡¯t necessary. Aside from the owner, we were the only ones inside.


    Absently, I kicked at one of the legs of the table.


    Laure had put me in a foul mood.


    The governor Mazus was the genuine Praesi article. Every story they told about the Praesi Highborn was true for the man. He hosted extravagant parties one day after another, paid for by bleeding the citizens dry. Half the people I had seen on the streets looked to be suffering from malnutrition, and there was an undercurrent of despair everywhere I travelled.


    ¡°Say girlie, mind heading to the market and grabbing us something?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Sure.¡± It gave me a brief distraction from all of my issues.


    The food in the Rat¡¯s Nest wasn¡¯t great, so I couldn¡¯t blame him for wanting something a little fresh. Much like healing, food was something else I wasn¡¯t good with. That went for most biological material. I bet the first time I tried actually healing someone would make for a barrel of laughs. Welcome to Taylor¡¯s clinic. It¡¯s like a casino, except with medical treatment. Would you like to gamble on which deadly disease I give you as I try to fix your broken arm?


    Standing up, I exited the building and made a brief stop in our residence to pick up a satchel.


    I consciously ignored the weight of the world pressing back against me. It felt like glass shredding through parts of my mind. By this point, I was never not being blanketed by Angels and while the presence was comforting, it did nothing to alleviate the pain.


    At least I wasn¡¯t as compassionate as they were. Being in a place so filled with human misery while being a literal incarnation of compassion would have been enough to make anyone¡¯s heart break.


    The route to the market was depressing. I had to pass between dilapidated houses and derelict buildings. Slowly, the city became nicer as I left the poorer quarters. A thin veneer of decency painted onto a haven of rot.


    My destination drew close. Slowly, I allowed myself to fade back into people¡¯s perception.


    Looking over the various stalls, I started picking out ingredients. As I was examining a lettuce to determine its relative freshness, a conversation one stall over caught my attention.


    ¡°You heard about the ongoing conflicts in Procer?¡± someone muttered.


    ¡°No, damn the snakes and their squabbles. Let them fight among themselves until last dusk.¡±


    ¡°They say there¡¯s a villain running around there stealing everyone¡¯s souls. An Artist of some sort. I wo-¡±


    I felt a spike of frustration. So the Artist had escaped then, and was ruining people¡¯s lives on the other side of the continent now.


    I was about to leave the market when I caught sight of what seemed to be a butcher¡¯s shop nestled in the corner. Good meat was expensive, in theory out of the price range of what we were pretending to be. But I was hungry and in a bad mood. This was an opportunity for me to indulge.


    Making my way inside, I spotted the butcher standing behind a table. He was a well muscled man in his early twenties, with his long black hair tied up in a ponytail. Behind him, there were carcasses hanging on racks. He stopped carving up a slice of pork into strips as I entered and looked up.


    ¡°What meat you looking for, lass?¡± he asked.


    I started pointing out what I wanted, then settled in to wait. Moments later, I heard a faint humming coming from behind me. Two dozen snakes a knot do make. At least, that¡¯s what I thought the tune was.


    I turned around.


    Behind me, there was a slip of a girl who was likely not even ten years old. She was short, with chubby cheeks, brown hair and dark skin. She wore a scraggly blue blouse with a symbol I didn¡¯t recognize sewn onto it. I didn¡¯t need to, to be able to guess what it meant. She was one of the local orphans.


    Cheeky brat.


    That was when two of the local guards entered the store. They looked over the two of us disdainfully, then their eyes hardened as they settled on the butcher.


    ¡°Piss off you two, we have business with him. Stick around, you might just be involved in it,¡± the one on the left said. He tried to sound intimidating, but it was hard not to laugh. He had a high-pitched, squeaky voice that made him sound like a parrot.


    I took a moment to scan the room.


    The butcher had gone rigid with barely disguised fear.


    The girl had a look of suppressed anger and helplessness that was radiating out of her. As if she wanted to reach out and do something, but didn¡¯t have the power to do it.


    You know what, Taylor, fuck it.


    I was probably going to be in so much trouble with the others for sticking my nose into the business of the guard. But this looked to me to be a shakedown of some sort, and right now I was frustrated enough that I was willing to intervene. The least I could do was find out what was going on.


    ¡°What kind of business?¡± I turned my attention back to the guards.


    ¡°What¡¯s it to you, bitch? I told you to piss off,¡± squeaky voice said.


    I shrugged, remaining unruffled, then stared unblinking into his eyes.


    ¡°Just want to know how much I¡¯ll regret involving myself.¡±


    As I spoke, I started to mess with their emotions. It was the most subtle method of attack I had and if I was careful enough, they wouldn¡¯t even notice I was doing it. I started by making them more eager to talk.


    ¡°Charles here hasn¡¯t joined one of the Guilds. We¡¯re here to provide him with some¡­incentive. Mazus doesn¡¯t want any unaffiliated shop owners. You don¡¯t want to anger him. Now leave, before we decide you need some incentive too,¡± the one on the right laughed at me.


    It was more or less what I was expecting, and it gave me an excuse to stick my nose in more directly. I was almost certain the Legion of Terror would not approve of what these men were doing if they were around. They had interrupted similar affairs elsewhere. It was a paper thin excuse for me to do what I saw to be the right thing, but I wasn¡¯t about to just let this go.


    ¡°I think the two of you should leave. If the Legions were here, they would kick you out of the store,¡± I stated.


    Both of them snickered. ¡°They aren¡¯t here. It¡¯s just us. And if something were to happen to you then, well, nobody would say a thing.¡±


    I tried being polite.


    ¡°I lost this arm in a war,¡± I raised the stump up, indicating, ¡°it got mauled. Rather than stop fighting, I had it burned off. I don¡¯t care if Mazus wants you to do this, I¡¯m certain it isn¡¯t actually allowed. Stopping the two of you¡­wouldn¡¯t even be that hard for me. At worst, I¡¯d be given a fine for it, and you would have to live with broken bones.¡±


    I reached under the butcher¡¯s table, then started to lift it up one-handed. I was actually levitating it, but they wouldn¡¯t know that. The butcher looked like he was about to start complaining, then paled. I continued manipulating their emotions, heightening fear, pushing down the desire to fight.


    ¡°Now see here,¡± the one on the right began, ¡°you can¡¯t threaten us like this. We¡¯re with the Guard!¡±


    ¡°Who said anything about threatening,¡± I put the table down and started to draw the knife sheathed on my left leg. ¡°We¡¯re just having a conversation. You wouldn¡¯t want the conversation to end, would you?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t happy with this solution. Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t sure how to prevent the situation from escalating without resorting to threats. They seemed like the only language anyone in the Empire spoke.


    ¡°Never mind. Come on, Jules, it¡¯s not worth it. The bitch looks crazy enough to try shank us. Even if she¡¯s hanged for it, we¡¯d still be dead. We can always come back here later when she¡¯s not around,¡± the one with the whiney voice said.


    Sending one last look my way that was filled with loathing, both of them turned and left.


    My attempt at intimidation probably wouldn¡¯t have worked without messing with their emotions. Logically, they did have the upper hand in a fight. They had better weapons and there were two of them. Unfortunately, I knew that what I had done was only delaying the inevitable. Unless something was done about Mazus, sooner or later those two, or others like them, would be back.


    The butcher muttered thanks my way and I completed my purchase, adding the extra weight to my bag. Then I turned and left. I felt the eyes of the girl follow me as I went. Slowly, I allowed myself to fade from view.


    I was halfway to the Rat¡¯s Nest when I started to feel an imperceptible tug, like the tug of a story. Annoyingly, I could only just feel it over the lancing pain from the world bearing down on me. I had felt a few stories try to attach themselves to me since the encounter on the road. None of them had stuck. This one was close enough that I felt if I pulled just right, I could take the main role.


    Maybe this is finally a chance to earn a Name.


    Frowning, I started to look around, trying to identify the source. Behind me, I saw the girl from the shop, carrying a box between her arms. Eyes narrowed, she was looking around as if trying to find something.


    I was almost certain the pull came from her.


    She rolled her shoulders and came closer. The manner in which she approached was almost skittish, as if she was afraid but forcing herself through. She couldn¡¯t see me, but was finding her way towards me regardless.


    What kind of story is this?


    Clearly it was a story involving her. What did I know for certain? She was an orphan in Callow, and she was young. I suspected she was also upset about the state of Laure. That¡­almost certainly made this a heroine''s story, which would make me the mentor.


    Mentors in stories didn¡¯t live long.


    I was still tempted to take this story, there was a part of me that liked the idea of taking care of a child. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t think I would make for a good mother and I didn¡¯t want to be responsible for taking a nine-year-old child and making them into a soldier. That would be a new regret that I didn¡¯t want to have to live with. I was already directly responsible for the death of one kid, I didn¡¯t want to steal the childhood of another.


    Despite that, I still wanted to allow her to come with. She had the¡­ whatever it was that allowed someone to have a Name, and was probably heroically inclined. She would likely be safer with us than staying here. I clamped down on the feeling. I needed to solve my current problems before I took on new ones.


    That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t give her some advice to help her along the way. I didn¡¯t doubt she would find someone who was willing to guide her. Even if that someone wouldn¡¯t be me.


    As she drew close, I included her in the effect I had up.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I asked.


    For a moment, it looked like she was about to jump out of her shoes and drop the box, before she restrained her reflexes.


    I suppressed a smile.


    ¡°Weeping heavens,¡± she muttered under her breath, louder than I think she realized. ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡±


    ¡°You were following me, not the other way around.¡±


    ¡°Catherine Foundling. Are you a hero?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a hero,¡± I denied.


    I started moving again, and she waddled behind me like a duckling. We stopped on one of the piers going out onto the Silver Lake. There was nobody else around.


    ¡°Rubies to piglets, you¡¯re a hero,¡± she snorted.


    I smiled a little, ¡°A hero would unseat Mazus, fight the Calamities, and reform Callow. I just stopped a couple of bullies from beating down the local butcher. That doesn¡¯t make me a hero, Catherine.¡±


    ¡°Cat or Foundling, don¡¯t call me Catherine,¡± she bristled like some sort of angry porcupine. It was cute.


    Adopt her.


    No, no. That isn¡¯t a good idea. Be responsible, Taylor. The Imperial Orphanages are allegedly well maintained, and exposing her to my problems wouldn¡¯t be good for the girl.


    ¡°Alright, Cat.¡±


    ¡°So why don¡¯t you stop Mazus then?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m not a hero.¡±


    ¡°Sure you aren¡¯t,¡± Catherine said, dubiously, ¡°but if you were, why haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Let''s say someone killed Mazus. Now what happens?¡± I asked.


    She shrugged, ¡°People don¡¯t starve any more?¡±


    ¡°The Empire takes it as a sign of rebellion. So the Legions are sent to stop it, and lots of people are killed. Then a new governor is put in place, only the rules are even stricter than before,¡± I explained.


    I was reminded of the explanation given by the Number¡¯s Man as to what happened in Brockton Bay. How a single event set off a chain of other events. While it would be wrong to blame the entire sequence of events on me choosing to fight Lung, the lesson still had merit.


    I needed to think about the consequences of my actions, before I went ahead and decided to put my foot down.


    ¡°Then what about joining the Legion. They follow the Black Knight¡¯s rules. If you rose high enough, you could fix Callow that way.¡± It wasn¡¯t phrased as a question, but I decided to answer it as one.


    That idea sounded just as awful as deciding to infiltrate the Undersiders.


    ¡°It¡¯s a bad plan. They would teach you to think like them. By the time you could change anything, you wouldn¡¯t want to any more.¡±


    ¡°Then what do you think a hero should do?¡± she challenged.


    Why couldn¡¯t she start with easy questions.


    ¡°Being a hero to me is about deciding to do things that are messy and complicated and aren¡¯t an easy fix to the problem, but don¡¯t hurt others along the way. It''s about making choices that you won¡¯t regret later. It¡¯s about accepting that you don¡¯t need to be the person to solve every problem, so long as the issue is solved. You can let other people help you do it or even follow them instead,¡± I paused, considering what else I wanted to say.


    Now, if only I could live by my own advice.


    ¡°You sound just like those tired old nuns from the house of light,¡± her tone of voice was derisive, as if doubting what I had to say.


    Despite her words, the tugging from the story between me and the girl was becoming more insistent. This was a concern, I didn¡¯t want to fall into this Role.


    ¡­ Even if a part of me did.


    ¡°I think you should go home and enjoy life for now,¡± I told her gently.


    ¡°You really aren¡¯t going to stop Mazus?¡± She asked again, this time sounding mutinous.


    ¡°No. Even if I was a hero and I won the fight, what next? Somebody still needs to run the city, and it can¡¯t be me.¡±


    The fight seemed to go out of her.


    ¡°You¡¯re a bad hero,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°I told you, I¡¯m not a hero.¡±


    Not yet, anyway.


    ¡°You¡¯re a hero from Procer,¡± she insisted, ¡°everyone calls you people snakes. Are you just going to prove them right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not from Procer,¡± I denied.


    ¡°You sure sound like it,¡± She muttered darkly, ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Taylor.¡±


    I felt the last threads of the story snap loose.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong, Taylor,¡± she declared under her breath. ¡°You¡¯re just a bad hero. I¡¯ll be a better hero than you. If you don''t fix Callow, then one day I will.¡± She finished her tantrum, voice laced with spite, then started stomping away.


    Oh, fuck no.


    That wasn¡¯t what I wanted.


    ¡°Cat, wait!¡± I called out.


    She ignored me and broke out into a run, box between her arms. Were it not for the circumstances, it would be comical to watch.


    I started to follow, before bringing myself to a halt. What could I do here? She wouldn¡¯t be happy with me bringing her along now, even if I wouldn¡¯t be a mentor. It would still be killing her childhood, although she seemed determined enough to do that on her own.


    Angrily, I started to pace back and forth at the edge of the pier.


    I didn¡¯t know what was the right thing to do. I didn¡¯t want to kidnap her, but it seemed like she was going to do something unsafe. She was a kid, she was going to make a bunch of stupid decisions, but these might actually kill her.


    For a moment I considered praying for advice, not that the Gods here ever answered. I had tried it once or twice when the pain became especially bad, hoping that they would help out. The problem I suspected was that I didn¡¯t truly have faith, and that was unlikely to change.


    Knowing something is real and having faith in it aren¡¯t the same thing. I could do the first, but struggled with the second. The most I could do was blindly hope for help.


    Think it through, Taylor.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    She was nine. If I tried to adopt her, she was guaranteed to be part of a story. If I just left her here, there was a good chance she would forget and move on with her life. It was a slim hope to go on, but it was all I really had.


    I started to make my way back to our lodgings.


    With nothing to distract myself, the presence of the world eating at me became nearly unbearable.


    Stay calm, Taylor.


    Killing the governor, I reminded myself, would not solve the problem. It likely wouldn¡¯t even make me feel better. Trying to keep a city together when I was sixteen and had localized omniscience had been hard enough. I didn¡¯t want to accidentally end up in charge of another, a couple of hundred years in the past and without a proper support network.


    The streets became tighter, the people more downtrodden, and my mood continued to sour. By the time I arrived at our lodgings, I was a bundle of frozen rage. Roland was standing outside, whispering furtively with another figure in a black cloak in an alley opposite the door.


    ¡°-will be held in Liesse,¡± I caught briefly.


    Both of them broke up as I approached.


    ¡°Come in, Girlie,¡± I heard from inside.


    I carefully wiped my boots on the rug, then took a seat beside Max. Roland came in not long after and sat opposite to me. A ward against eavesdropping went up, then conversation began.


    ¡°Well, who pissed in your breakfast?¡± Max asked cheerfully.


    ¡°I got into a fight with some guards. They tried to intimidate a merchant into joining the guilds, and I didn¡¯t let it be.¡±


    ¡°Whilst I understand what drove you to move to the man¡¯s defence, doing so has put us at risk,¡± Roland chided.


    ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Were it not for your current circumstances, the bruising would be more severe. As it stands, I ask that you be more cautious.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the worst of it, though.¡±


    ¡°What else is there, girlie?¡±


    ¡°I ran into a girl. I¡¯d guess she was nine years old. There were the beginnings of a story between the two of us. It looked like she would be a hero. I broke the story but¡­¡±


    ¡°You find yourself concerned for her wellbeing,¡± Roland inferred.


    ¡°Exactly. I don¡¯t know what to do.¡±


    ¡°Do you wish for an apprentice, Taylor?¡±


    ¡°I do, but I don¡¯t think I would be good for her,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Then it is for the best we leave her then,¡± he declared.


    That didn¡¯t make me feel any less uneasy at the thought.


    There was a lull in the conversation before Roland changed the topic.


    ¡°The state of Laure is a disgrace.¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±


    ¡°If you consider the situation as it currently stands in Callow, then how would you propose to deal with this?¡± Roland had a sincerity to his face that made me take the question seriously.


    I thought for a moment.


    While starting a rebellion would never end well, and I wasn¡¯t about to join the Legions, I suspected the Black Knight also wouldn¡¯t be happy with the state of affairs.


    ¡°We should write a letter to the Black Knight,¡± I replied.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t some dainty girl you can win with some pretty words and flowers, girlie.¡± Maxime snorted.


    ¡°No, hear me out,¡± I began. ¡°Look at how the Black Knight operates. He''s ruthless and Evil. He set the Blessed Isle on fire, burning everyone on it to death, then went on to crucify everyone who disagreed with him after the Conquest. But that¡¯s not what¡¯s important.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s that, girlie?¡±


    ¡°The man is pragmatic above all else. After taking control of Callow, he built orphanages and schools. Reformed the tax law. Did away with the nobility and regulated anything he felt he couldn¡¯t control. He can be convinced by logic.¡± I argued.


    ¡°And how does this relate to the letter you plan to write?¡± Roland asked dubiously.


    ¡°The man doesn¡¯t want an uprising. He plans to play the long game. He also knows stories. If there¡¯s an uprising, there will be heroes that come with it. The orphanages weren¡¯t built out of the goodness of his heart. He¡¯s doing it to prevent orphans from turning into heroes.¡±


    At least, that was my suspicion. I couldn¡¯t see any other reason for a man as ruthless as he was to go to the lengths he did.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Roland prevaricated. ¡°This still does not explain your thoughts behind the approach.¡±


    ¡°You see, if we assume that he doesn¡¯t want an uprising, what the Black Knight wants least here is for people to be angry. If they are angry, then they might rebel. He doesn¡¯t need people to be happy, so long as they aren¡¯t angry they are unlikely to cause problems.¡± I finished.


    Relying on the tyrant to clean up his own messes upset me, but killing him wouldn¡¯t fix anything unless I actually had the right people behind me to replace him. I didn¡¯t have an entire government stuffed in my back pocket, and I didn¡¯t think throwing Callow into a state of civil war would make anyone¡¯s lives better.


    ¡°So to my understanding, you believe that by sending a letter, you can bring him to act in an effort to stave off rebellion then?¡± Roland confirmed.


    ¡°If worded correctly, yes. Bring the risk of an uprising to his attention. The Legion has bureaucracy for everything. File the right form and fill it with the right words, and he¡¯s almost certain to follow it up.¡± I stated.


    There was even rumoured to be a form you could file to get annoying subordinates killed if you had the right justification. This place was a madhouse filled with nothing but the criminally insane.


    ¡°Girlie, how do you plan to stop it from just been thrown in a fire?¡± Max asked.


    It was a valid question. The letter would need to be attention grabbing in some way to ensure it landed on his desk.


    ¡°The Gnomes hand out red letters, right?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not thinking of sending Praes a red letter, are you?¡± a touch of hysteria had entered Max¡¯s voice.


    ¡°It will certainly grab someone¡¯s attention.¡±


    I had no idea what a genuine red letter looked like, but I didn¡¯t need to. I imagined that nobody at the bottom levels of Legion bureaucracy would know either. If something that looked convincing enough arrived at one of their desks, they would escalate it. I was reasonably confident I could recreate a modern postcard with a view of Chicago on it, as something to bundle with the letter itself.


    The contents of the letter could quite clearly state that it wasn¡¯t actually a form of Gnomish diplomacy, somewhere near the bottom. I just needed it to capture the attention of someone important enough within the Legions that our complaints about Laure would actually be heard.


    It did bring up the obvious concern of people no longer taking the letter seriously once they realized it¡¯s a fake, but I didn¡¯t have a good solution to that without putting us in genuine danger along the way. Somehow, I didn¡¯t think the Black Knight would be willing to sit down over a cup of tea and debate the finer details of how to run Callow.


    I wouldn¡¯t ever actually deliberately call down the Gnomes on anyone. I wasn¡¯t sure if I could by manifesting the right tools, but the very idea of doing so nauseated me. They were a problem I didn¡¯t even have the beginnings of an answer to. A disaster of foreign relations that needed to be dealt with.


    There aren¡¯t any easy solutions, are there?


    ¡°That is certainly¡­ One method to call attention down on our heads. I suggest that we table that idea for now and preferably never revisit it. Besides, I dislike that your heroic plot to deal with the unrest within Laure is to bring it to the attention of the villains.¡± Roland looked upset.


    ¡°It will work,¡± I insisted.


    Just letting the bully remain in charge was not an acceptable solution, but it would have to do until I had a better one.


    ¡°If this works, girlie, you will be flashing your tits right at the calamities. There is no way it would be safe for you to stay in Callow, then.¡± Max added.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need to do it immediately.¡± I replied. ¡°When we decide to leave for the Principate, we leave a letter on our way out.¡±


    I suspected it was coming sooner or later. There were only so many places we could check before Praes became the last place to look. As desperate was I was for help, I wasn¡¯t willing to go that far.


    Yet.


    It would be miserable living like this, but it was better living with the world trying to eject me then being captured by a diabolist.


    Roland drummed his fingers on the table thoughtfully.


    ¡°I dislike everything about this.¡±


    That didn¡¯t surprise me. It wasn¡¯t a heroic solution. In fact, it wasn¡¯t really a solution at all. It was me hoping my read on a person I had never met was correct. The problem was this wasn¡¯t something any of us could solve easily, and trying to fix it directly myself would likely make everything worse.


    ¡°So, it has just been brought to my attention by one of my contacts that there is a rumour-¡± Roland changed the topic.


    Max and I both groaned.


    That meant something to do with his Name.


    He raised his hands in exasperation.


    ¡°-that some of the Wizard of the West¡¯s secret tomes are being auctioned off in Liesse.¡± He confided.


    It went unsaid that such an auction was highly illegal.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a trap.¡± I declared.


    ¡°Girlie¡¯s right. Put one foot into that auction and all our heads get cut off,¡± Max added.


    There was no way the Calamities would just leave something like that on the table.


    ¡°I acknowledge that the possibility exists that it is a trap, but consider Taylor,¡± he became more animated as he spoke, ¡°this could be the opportunity we seek.¡±


    I thought about it. He was right. Short of trying to steal books out of the Warlock¡¯s library, this did seem like our best bet. I wasn¡¯t too keen on the risks, but playing it safe for two years had achieved nothing, and I was becoming desperate. This kind of opportunity did fit Roland¡¯s type of story almost perfectly. It was magical knowledge that was likely being misused. If we were ever to have a genuine chance at finding the information I needed, this would be it.


    Liesse wasn¡¯t Praes, but we would still be taking a big risk.


    ¡°We will need to plan carefully,¡± I said.


    ¡°Girlie, you sure you can¡¯t just leave it be?¡± Max asked.


    I shook my head.


    ¡°I have to do this,¡± I told him. ¡°Living like this is awful, and I¡¯m¡­¡± I trailed off, the rest left unsaid.


    He sighed.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ve come with you this far,¡± he mumbled.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to plan our escape route to Procer as well. I doubt we could stay in Callow for much longer afterwards.¡±


    It was a tacit approval, but Roland¡¯s face lit up.


    ¡°Let us begin planning. Once we are done, we can prepare for departure,¡± he smiled.


    We didn¡¯t leave that night, but we did leave soon after. I suspected that whatever the outcome, we would need to flee Callow in the aftermath. This way, at least we had a story on our side.


    <hr>


    ¡°Shall we resume our debate then?¡± Roland inquired idly.


    We were on the road heading for Liesse. We were taking a more indirect route, passing through Vale rather than going near Marchford. There were rumours that the Warlock was currently in residence there, and none of us thought that going near him was a good idea.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I replied.


    Roland and I had been having an ongoing debate ever since we entered back into Callow. It made for an easy way to waste time. I had taken up arguing in favour of Black¡¯s system of Governance in Callow, and he argued for the Principate. I didn¡¯t actually like or approve of either systems, but at least our discussions had a way of keeping us entertained on the roads.


    There was only so many times you could look at mountains and fields before they all started to look the same.


    By this point, we had probably retreaded the same couple of arguments at least over a dozen times. Max had joined in at first, but after the fifth repeat of the debate had decided that he would rather sleep.


    ¡°In the Principate, the Princes would never allow a city regress in the same manner as Laure,¡± Roland stated.


    I was sure that wasn¡¯t true, considering what I had heard about the civil war. But I had only seen a corner of Procer myself, so I would leave that alone.


    ¡°If a city became like Laure in Procer, then nobody would be able to do something about it. In Callow, the Governers only have a four-year mandate. If it appears the current ruler is causing problems, they can be removed. Nobody can remove the Princes.¡± I argued.


    Not that I expected anyone good would replace Mazus.


    ¡°In the event that Mazus is removed, another Wasteland lord or lady equivalent in nature would replace him.¡± He retorted.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you kids talk about something else?¡± Max interjected, sounding grumpy.


    Both of us grinned. Actually finding a way to draw a reaction out of Max had taken us a while.


    ¡°In the Empire, anyone can receive an education. It doesn¡¯t matter how poor you are. Sure, you need to pay the Tower back by serving in the army. But in the Principate, only the wealthy have a chance at a proper education at all.¡±


    And I¡¯d bet the Callow education under Black was filled with propaganda. Despite this, it was one of the changes he had made which I genuinely approved of. Even if the good in it was partially subverted.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t a refutation of my point, you are merely deflecting to another topic. Consider how likely is it that somebody who isn¡¯t a High Lord ends up in the seat of power.¡±


    It would probably never happen.


    ¡°More likely than it is than someone in the Principate. You start your calendar from the death of Triumphant. When I was poking around in the necromancer¡¯s books, it was implied that she wasn¡¯t from the nobility at all.¡±


    Triumphant was an exception, of course. It had been made clear to me the first time I had heard her name that she was an exception to everything. The woman who conquered the continent in ten years, then lost it in five. The stories told about her were so horrifying that even centuries later, people talked about her in whispers.


    ¡°Using Triumphant as an example of anything is indicative that you are losing the argument.¡± He stated firmly.


    ¡°The only reason that you feel this strongly against the system in Callow is because it¡¯s run by villains.¡±


    He raised an eyebrow at me.


    ¡°And you do not consider this a valid reason to hold it in contempt? They brook no disagreement, and murder all who dare speak out against them.¡± He reached behind him and picked up a flask, then took a sip.


    ¡°What¡¯s the sentence for opposing the ruler in the Principate?¡­¡± I trailed off, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Poison for Princes. Being hung, drawn and quartered for anyone else.¡± Max added from behind helpfully.


    I turned and smiled at him in thanks.


    Both Procer and Praes had problems.


    In the Principate, it was highly unlikely you would ever end up in a position of power unless you were born into it. It was taken as a given that only the Princes had the right to rule. A proper education was limited to the nobility, and mages were shunned and distrusted by all but the Lycaonese.


    It was still better than Praes, but that wasn¡¯t saying much. Being better than the Empire that actively advertises how evil it is shouldn¡¯t be seen as an achievement.


    Praes was just a mess. While in theory anyone could rule, in practice it was only those born into power. Even if you ignored that, the system was just bad. The history books were littered with examples of tyrants taking over and being terrible at actually running the place. When rulers were decided based on their ability to scheme, backstab, betray and murder their rivals, they didn¡¯t typically have the right skills to rule. They had the right skills for scheming, backstabbing, betraying and murdering people.


    Funny how that worked.


    ¡°You know, I read that at one point in history, slavery used to be considered Good in Calernia.¡± I began.


    ¡°Yes¡­¡±


    ¡°And now it isn¡¯t.¡± I continued.


    ¡°You understand correctly. I fail to understand where you are going with this.¡± Roland replied.


    ¡°Whoever or however it was that came to be changed, the people involved had to have been villains.¡± I finished.


    Roland was quiet for a moment.


    ¡°This does not necessarily need to be the case. The understanding of Good could merely have shifted over time of its own volition.¡± He denied.


    He was probably right.


    ¡°One interpretation of The Book of All Things claims that Creation is a bet to determine the validity of free will. The side that claims to be Good is against the idea. If Good opposes free will, then why would they be against slavery.¡±


    All things considered, I felt like the biggest hypocrite in Creation. Being the person to argue in favour of free will after using mind control during the apocalypse in order to get my way wasn¡¯t much of a ringing endorsement.


    I still didn¡¯t know if there had been a better option.


    Would people have come to the same solution or even a better one faster without my intervention? I didn¡¯t think so, but the doubt would always be there.


    Would I make the same choice if I was put in the same situation again?


    I didn¡¯t know the answer.


    A part of me worried that I would.


    Another part of me worried that I would not.


    ¡°Historians make the assertion that this was caused by Good and not Evil.¡± Roland repeated.


    ¡°Histories that were written afterwards and were likely biased.¡±


    I felt that the argument was plausible, but everything I had seen so far spoke to the opposite.


    ¡°And you are making the claim that people performing blood sacrifices and summoning up demons are more likely to have brought about this change? Furthermore, these days only evil polities have slavery or indentured servitude.¡± His incredulity bled through.


    ¡°I¡¯m not claiming that.¡±


    ¡°Then what are you claiming?¡± He asked.


    ¡°That good and evil aren¡¯t the same as Good and Evil. If you think of Creation in terms of the bet, then there are other options. It is possible to be a good person without being Good. It¡¯s possible there was a villain who disagreed with slavery and challenged it all on their own.¡±


    ¡°Can you name any examples of villains in Calernia that to your knowledge would do such a thing.¡± He inquired.


    I couldn¡¯t.


    All the villains I had read about were truly villainous. The Dead King literally ruled a Kingdom of the Dead from the safety of one of the hells. Traitorous betrayed anyone and everyone he could. Triumphant unleashed demons all over the continent.


    Calernia was a broken land full of broken people, and something needed to be done about it.


    ¡°Do you think that historians would have recorded it that way? Villains would have shunned them and heroes would have changed the facts afterwards.¡± I argued.


    ¡°Taylor, I know you consider every villain in Calernia you have heard of reprehensible. Why are you defending them?¡± He sounded exasperated at the thought.


    Ah, he had become emotionally invested in the argument.


    ¡°We should finish here,¡± I said diplomatically.


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you gave me an answer this time,¡± he contested.


    Fair enough.


    ¡°Because¡­¡± I trailed off.


    ¡°Because Girlie here was a villain once and is worried that if villains in Creation are truly Evil, then maybe she is too.¡± Max interjected.


    I wouldn¡¯t put it that way.


    After seeing the Choir of Compassion, it had been something I worried about for a while. Looking around Calernia had done enough to help me dismiss the idea. Maybe my morality didn¡¯t measure up to that of the Angels, but that didn¡¯t make me Evil. It just meant I wasn¡¯t a Saint.


    And I was fine with not being a Saint.


    ¡°It¡¯s just that¡­ When I was a villain, I didn¡¯t think of what I was doing as Evil. I had a goal that I believed was good, even if the steps I took to reach it weren¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°And so the thought had occurred to you that perhaps there are villains here that share those traits as well.¡± Roland surmised.


    ¡°It¡¯s something I think about sometimes,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°By now has it not been made clear to you that the villains of one land and the other are not the same?¡± inquired.


    It had, but that didn¡¯t make me still wonder. Surely not everyone with a villainous name was a monster? Or was it a requirement for the role.


    ¡°What else is fucking with your head, Taylor?¡± Max asked.


    Do I talk about it?


    If I didn¡¯t talk about it now, I never would.


    ¡°You remember how I told you about the end of the world,¡± I began.


    Max¡¯s eyebrows raised.


    ¡°I take it you¡¯re going somewhere with this?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    I paused for a moment. I¡¯d come to value their judgement with time, and I expected I knew how they would react. That didn¡¯t take away my fear of rejection, though.


    ¡°Stop chewing on it and spit it out, Taylor. It will eat you up inside otherwise.¡± Max pressed.


    Fine.


    ¡°When the world ended, nobody worked together. Nothing anyone did worked, and it looked like we were going to lose.¡± I started.


    ¡°You informed us that you had died during the engagement,¡± Roland interjected.


    ¡°I did, but it was after the end of the fight. Before then, I did something.¡±


    ¡°Keep talking, girlie.¡±


    Roland passed me a flask. Taking it, I thanked him quickly before continuing with my story.


    ¡°At the time, I felt helpless. Nothing I could do would make any difference in the fight. So I took a gamble that was reckless. Afterwards, I could control anyone who got close enough to me¡­¡± I trailed off.


    ¡°And then you took control of everyone.¡± He completed my train of thought.


    ¡°At first I only meant to control the worst people, the villains. The longer the fight went on, the more people I controlled.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t know if it was the right or wrong thing to do.¡± He continued.


    ¡°We won at the end, but it didn¡¯t feel like winning,¡± I said softly. ¡°So many people died and there were only pieces left.¡±


    ¡°And then afterwards, you end up in a place where the gods are arguably having a pissing match over free will. You must be wondering if it¡¯s some sort of punishment.¡± Max chuckled.


    I hadn¡¯t even thought of that. It was nice having even more to worry about.


    ¡°Girlie, this isn¡¯t the place to worry about that. This is Calernia. We don¡¯t have a golden man, but we have Old Bones. If the Dead King came down from Keter to fuck us all over, and you summoned down an Angel of Contrition to fight him, you would be buried as a Saint.¡± He consoled.


    ¡°That¡¯s part of what worries me,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°The rules of whatever land you came from don¡¯t work here, so why worry about them?¡± He asked.


    How to explain?


    If I had ended up somewhere more familiar, I likely wouldn¡¯t have worried so much about this. Here though? This was a world where people would shout from the rooftops that the decision I made was the right one. It was also in almost every measurable way worse off. There were cities on Bet that had a higher population than the entire of Calernia. That was likely true even after the apocalypse.


    Being confronted with that every day wasn¡¯t something I was comfortable with.


    Every day, I came face to face with a world that was run the way I had operated back on Earth Bet. If I took charge and acted like a benevolent warlord, nobody would bat an eyelid. If I was a hero in the process, they would probably even tell me I was doing a good job for it.


    And the actual state of the world was terrible in comparison.


    Sure, Calernia wasn¡¯t falling apart like Bet was, but that wasn¡¯t because the system was good. It was because they just didn¡¯t happen to have something far outside the scope of the world actively working to bring it down. Aleph existed and operated under largely the same rules as Bet did. It hadn¡¯t been falling apart, and it was almost a utopia in comparison to Creation.


    Calernia felt to me like the biggest argument that I was wrong.

 Verism 2.08

    ¡°And so Triumphant declared: ¡®Come, heroes most mighty and Tyrants most dark. None shall be spared from the fullness of my wrath. No powers Above or Below shall save you, even should the Gods heed your call.¡¯¡±


    ¨C Extract from the Scroll of Dominion, twenty-fourth of the Secret Histories of Praes


    <hr>


    Arriving in Liesse was different from arriving in Laure. For one, Liesse was like a tourist¡¯s destination in comparison. The pale white walls of the city loomed up ahead. For a city so comparatively small, they were a marvel to behold. Topping the walls were ornate crenellations that had been shaped to look like mated pairs of swans.


    I hadn¡¯t taken the time to draft a letter to the Black Knight yet. But it wouldn¡¯t take long to write, and was something that I could do when we were making our exit from the Empire.


    ¡°Once we are within the confines of the city, I will see to the stabling of our transportation and then endeavour to establish contact with the local criminal underbelly. If the two of you could make the effort to find us acceptable accommodations for a brief stay, then we can rendezvous back at the city gates at the setting of the sun. Does this course of action agree with you?¡± Roland inquired.


    ¡°Sounds good.¡± I replied.


    Max also gave his assent.


    ¡°We do not plan to remain in Liesse for the long term, only so long as it takes to acquire our prize. It may be to our benefit if we are seen to have wealth. It is plausible that an auction like this is invite only, and one may not be extended if we are seen as poor.¡± Roland continued.


    We had decided that stealing the tomes would attract more attention than simply buying them out. Being merely another bidder with more money than sense would put us in less danger than annoying everyone at the auction, including the people hosting it.


    It was highly unlikely that there was anyone who could outbid me.


    ¡°If I ignore what we¡¯re doing, it¡¯s basically a holiday.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right girlie. We''re staying somewhere nice for once.¡±


    As we made our way through the gates, the wards pressed in on me from either side, stifling my sense of the world.


    Max and I split off from Roland, then started to look for a place to stay. Liesse was scenic, with large cathedrals and towers rising up high in the air. We moved to the wealthier parts of the city first and went from place to place. The buildings here had slate tile roofs and sandstone walls, looking far fancier than the ones we had passed while entering. People eyed us distrustfully, we probably should have changed into nicer outfits.


    To both of our mounting dismay, it seemed that all the rooms had already been taken.


    Slowly, we started moving into the less well-kept parts of the city. Snow fell around us. I kept it away unconsciously, but that did not remove the feel of it from the edge of my effect. Time was passing, and we had little to show for it.


    This wasn¡¯t sticking to our original plan, but with every residence full, we had no other choice. Regardless of what we wanted, we did need somewhere to stay.


    It wasn¡¯t the end of the world. We hadn¡¯t been staying in pleasant places over the course of our journey. It had been something I was looking forward to for once, though.


    As our search dragged on, the feeling of salt poured on an open wound embedded into my metaphysical flesh mounted. It was so bad, that I was only vaguely able to focus on what people were saying around me.


    We exited another guest house and were halfway past a tavern when I tripped, landing face first in a pile of mud.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± I grumbled as I climbed back onto my feet, then took a moment to clear off my face. I winced as shards cut into my efforts.


    ¡°How bad is it, Taylor?¡± Max asked softly.


    ¡°Terrible.¡±


    He came closer and laid a hand gently on my shoulders.


    ¡°Let¡¯s find the first place that has a bed. Doesn¡¯t matter how nice it is, you can clean it yourself in a heartbeat. Then you¡¯re going to rest,¡± he declared.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I mumbled back, almost delirious from pain.


    That was when a ballad started up in the distance.


    ¡°¡ª ere once was a Spider;


    In a land far away


    Who fought with a Lizard;


    At the edge of the bay¡±


    ¡°Do you hear that, girlie?¡± The two of us paused to listen.


    ¡°And in the aftermath;


    It found that it was numb


    Looking over the fight;


    The battle lost and won¡±


    ¡°I hear it,¡± I rasped back.


    It was sung to the off-beat strumming of a lute. The voice had a distinctly mocking lilt to it. I could almost hear the grin.


    ¡°So lonely, the Spider;


    That when met with a Fox


    Did not make itself scarce;


    Instead, climbed in the box¡±


    The sound was distant, coming from down a narrow alley beside the tavern. We wouldn¡¯t have even noticed it if not for the song. Looking, I spotted a run-down building with a sign on the outside. It took a couple of heartbeats to read it, with my vision spinning the way it was. Happy Endings. It looked like the kind of place that Roland would probably be visiting in a day or two to find out more about the auction. I wasn¡¯t too keen on staying somewhere like it, but everywhere else had been full.


    ¡°Let¡¯s check it, Taylor?¡± Max said.


    ¡°Not going to make the joke about the kinds of happy endings they offer?¡±


    ¡°Not the right time.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like the idea of staying in the maybe brothel, but it was better than returning to Roland empty-handed or staggering around like this much longer. Perhaps we could pay the bard with the money we were saving on rent to shut up. The noise was almost as grating as the feeling at the back of my head.


    ¡°Not noticing the plan;


    Of the dastardly Snake


    The Spider was tangled;


    With web of its own make¡±


    ¡°Do you want to go in there, Taylor?¡± He gestured towards the door.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Alright then, girlie, let¡¯s take a look.¡±


    ¡°The Eagle was then roused;


    From up high in its nest


    Summoned forth by its Name;


    Blasting down on the rest¡±


    We reached the door. Max reached towards the handle. As he was about to open it, the door opened on its own and a wiry man with greying hair hurried out.


    ¡°Calamity did strike;


    With the theft of the Owl


    The great beast did arrive;


    A tragedy most foul¡±


    ¡°Do you have beds available?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± he affirmed in a warm voice. ¡°You can go in, I¡¯ll be right back shortly.¡± I figured he was the proprietor.


    The music cut off as he spoke.


    The stained wooden floor creaked below our feet as we entered. My gaze roamed over the place, taking it all in. The majority of the floor space was taken up by cosy chairs and tables strewn haphazardly around. Directly opposite the entrance was a door, leading up to another floor.


    On the right, was an empty stage.


    That was the moment the place went to hell.


    ¡°You lot, again! How many times do I have to fight you? No matter. You will find to your misfortune that this time I am much better prepared. ¡± A man shouted from the left, exasperated.


    We turned to face the voice. Placed carefully around the fireplace were three easels, each with a canvas pinned to them. The canvas on the third easel was still wet with paint. Between them stood a familiar figure wearing stained patchwork clothing.


    The Arcadian Artist.


    I started the process of reaching out, planning to strike at him directly. I winced at the sensation of the world fighting back. For a moment, my vision fractured into a sea of broken shards. Max had begun drawing sigils in the air. Both of us were too slow.


    ¡°I will make of you a gift fit for my Prince, and then the terms of my bargain will finally be met. Harmonize.¡± He declared, pointing to one of his portraits. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t see what was on it from where I stood.


    Sadly, I didn¡¯t need to.


    To my surprise, I could feel the intent of the word. It felt like the surface of a lake or the space occupied by a door. The meeting of two disparate places, existing but for a moment in unison.


    In under a heartbeat, the world around us warped, melting like wax. The walls stretched further and further away, fading into the distance. The room began to fill with a thick, acrid fog that was dense enough to drink. The distance between us and the painter expanded, and the land poured upward. Like water coming out of a tap, only reversed.


    The Artist was no longer in sight. Had he run away?


    My blood ran cold. It was just the two of us, Max and I. While I wasn¡¯t that worried about my own safety, if we didn¡¯t escape then Max would almost certainly die.


    ¡°We need to escape from here. Let him get away. It¡¯s not worth fighting,¡± I declared.


    ¡°You think it¡¯s the start of a story?¡± he asked, thoughtfully.


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    I tried to shove against the effect and break out of it, to no success. There were well over a thousand souls pressing back against my attempt, all forced into it by the artist. He was awful at it, but he didn¡¯t need to be good at what he was doing to overpower me with brute force.


    I did learn something from the attempt. He was in here with us, somewhere up above.


    ¡°You pests cannot conceive of the true scope of my vision. Now you will be ground down by it.¡± A voice called out from all around us.


    We could no longer see the walls of the place.


    Next, I tried to determine if we were trapped inside a painting.


    We both were and weren¡¯t.


    As far as I could tell, the artist had overlapped his paintings with the inside of the building we had been inside and was changing the place to match his conception of reality. The rules it was following were nebulous. I was reasonably confident he couldn¡¯t just kill us, but he could mess with the laws of Creation to an absurd degree.


    My stomach dropped.


    ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t break us out of this without killing the Artist,¡± I admitted. The words tasted like ash in my mouth. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to try to fight him. Maybe if you stay down here and I go on ahead?¡±


    ¡°Now Taylor,¡± Max sounded almost insulted, ¡°I''m not leaving you to get fucked all on your own. We¡¯re in this together.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± I shook my head, frustrated. ¡°He¡¯s a villain. He can¡¯t kill me. Sooner or later, I¡¯ll just win the fight. I don¡¯t want you to throw away your life for no good reason. You¡¯re important to me.¡±


    I suppressed another wince.


    It was frustrating. I knew why he wanted to fight. He hid it well, but it was something I could read and it hurt, although it hurt in a good way. His daughter had died, and he hadn¡¯t been there to fight for her. He didn¡¯t want to not be there a second time, even if it was completely irrational.


    ¡°I always knew I would die fighting one day, Taylor. I¡¯m not running away just because it might be today.¡±


    I almost told him that he wasn¡¯t my dad, but chose to shut my mouth. If we had a major argument here, it might just make him more likely to die to drive home the regret. That seemed like it would better fit a story. I just had to hope that I was wrong.


    Once more, I tried breaking the effect, but was met with little success.


    ¡­ The Artist must have killed so many people to make this work. There was no way he could even hope to contain me otherwise.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    We are going to be in so much trouble.


    There was no way the Calamities missed a fight between Named within the boundaries of Liesse that involved something like this.


    More and more details filled in. We were standing at the bottom of a cliff face. In front of us there was a narrow, sinuous path cut through the cliff, a gorge leading above. The exit had long since disappeared.


    The chairs were the last remaining signs of the building we had entered. They were blocking the way.


    Then the chairs grew wings and teeth.


    As they did so, I felt a slight lessening to the pressure being exerted against me. Each time he summoned one, he was weakening his own defence. Unfortunately, the point he was starting from was so strong it would take a significant effort to be able to win.


    They, like everything else the artist had summoned, had the appearance of being painted. You could still see the brush strokes lining everything he made.


    I tried to just kill it, but it wasn¡¯t truly alive, and my attempt had no effect. Next, I tried to dismiss it.


    My will slammed against his. Trying to contest him felt vaguely reminiscent of trying to contest the absence demon, only he was far slower and less unpredictable. Given time, I was certain to win.


    I tried out a few more changes in an effort to kill the chair. Paint wasn¡¯t alive, so by my will neither should the chair be. Paint couldn¡¯t float, so they should remain still. Each time, he pressed back.


    The chair drew close.


    Then Max threw a fireball at it.


    ¡°No, don¡¯t!¡± I shouted.


    The Artist didn¡¯t even bother to try to contest the attempt.


    The chair caught light. Unfortunately, I hadn¡¯t yet informed Max of our little problem. Whilst the Artist¡¯s creations were likely susceptible to fire, using it wasn¡¯t a good idea here.


    Because everything around us was painted as well.


    Fuck.


    ¡°Yes, why don¡¯t you set the very world you exist in alight,¡± The Artist cackled gleefully.


    The flames started to spread. Hastily, I reached out trying to smother them, but was pushed back against once more. The chairs that weren¡¯t on fire were drawing close.


    I stretched out the space between us and them, buying us some time. The Artist didn¡¯t try to stop me, but it didn¡¯t matter either. The sheer effort of it almost caused me to black out.


    ¡°We¡¯re committed now and on a time limit,¡± I rasped. ¡°If we don¡¯t escape fast, you¡¯ll die just from the smoke.¡±


    ¡°I''m sorry, Taylor,¡± he sounded chagrined.


    ¡°It''s okay,¡± I affirmed, ¡°but we need to go now before the fire blocks us off.¡±


    ¡°Right, Girlie.¡± He agreed.


    The two of us began to run, dashing forward and dodging between more of the chairs. One of them smashed into me. I fell, tumbling to the ground. Suppressing a wince, I reached out with my mind, vaporizing it with a beam of light instead. The Artist scrambled to stop me, but failed.


    I felt a slight drain on my reserves. The attack was costly, but less likely to cause me problems than leaving the enemy alive. Unfortunately, I would need to be careful and not overextend myself. This wasn¡¯t a fight I could win with brute force alone.


    The flames were closing in.


    I could feel their heat on my skin. Three more chairs were heading my way, and I climbed to my feet hastily. Dashing past them, I joined Max at the base of the path. He had blocked them off temporarily with a ward. I could already see the pale blue glow of his barrier flickering as the Artist started to break it down.


    We began to jog, following the mountain path. Behind us, I could hear the quiet roar of the flames as the landscape was slowly consumed. The road split, going off in several directions. Picking one, we followed it, only to have it come to a dead end.


    Backtracking, we chose one of the other branches. The path grew more narrow, closing in around us. Then, from ahead, the roar of a tiger could be heard. Painted claws scraped against my good arm, scoring deep, jagged cuts. I tumbled to the ground. It landed behind me.


    I yelped out in pain, then dodged to the side as I sensed it leap once more.


    To my frustration, I was too slow.


    The tiger crashed into me, pinning me to the ground. On instinct, I tried transmuting it into a cloud of determination. The tiger disappeared.


    This wouldn¡¯t be an issue if you weren¡¯t the person you are now.


    I squashed the traitorous voice at the back of my head.


    ¡°Understanding. It begins to set in, doesn¡¯t it? How far beneath me the likes of you truly are. You do not even warrant an Artist¡¯s second consideration.¡±


    Among all my other current problems, his voice was starting to grate on me. Couldn¡¯t he shut up?


    Max offered me a hand, helping me to my feet.


    ¡°Are you alright, Taylor?¡± Max asked, his voice thick with concern.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not,¡± I answered truthfully.


    I felt feverish. I suspected that the tiger¡¯s claws were venomous. It wouldn¡¯t kill me, but it made concentrating even harder.


    Max looked at me worriedly.


    ¡°We need to hurry.¡±


    I could feel the dogged breath of the hells tickling the back of my neck.


    We hurried, continuing our ascent. Wary now for attackers, we disposed of two more tigers as the journey dragged on. More dead ends, more backtracking. We were on a time limit and I felt the pressure continue to mount.


    My vision started to swim.


    ¡°We - we can¡¯t go on like this,¡± I said, my voice hoarse.


    Max was panting beside me. I didn¡¯t know how long we had been inside this nightmare of a trap, but both of us were being worn down.


    ¡°This bugger is really fucking us up the ass this time, isn¡¯t he,¡± Maxime agreed.


    ¡°This place is like a labyrinth. It¡¯s designed to waste our time. If we don¡¯t find a way through soon, he won¡¯t have to fight us at all,¡± I complained. Then, I realized what I had said.


    This place is like a labyrinth.


    Despite looking like a mountain, we were actually in a maze. And the best way to solve a maze, was not to enter the maze at all. Unfortunately, now that we were already inside, this revelation came a bit too late.


    Still, the second-best way to solve a maze was to look over the walls.


    Or, in this case, make a path of our own.


    I tried to create a platform leading up, but was too dizzy to push through. It felt like trying to grab an eel lathered in oil.


    "Max, can you cut a path up the side of the gorge so we can scale it?" I asked, wheezing as I did so.


    Everything I tried kept slipping from my reach.


    ¡°Oh, the ants finally find an idea between them!¡± The voice gleefully declared.


    ¡°I can try, Taylor.¡± He answered. He didn¡¯t sound particularly confident in his assessment, but I didn¡¯t think we had another option.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s try that.¡±


    Max started to carve away at the side of the gorge, forming steps leading up. He had to alternate between many effects to do it, as the Artist kept countering his work. It was nerve wracking to watch from behind.


    We started to climb.


    It was precarious, but it was better than the alternative. This way, we could be sure that we wouldn¡¯t find ourselves lost in another dead end.


    It¡¯s working.


    Just ten feet short of the top and disaster struck. From above, a tiger leapt down, slamming into Maxime.


    ¡°No!¡± I shouted, my voice laced thick with horror.


    This wouldn¡¯t have been a problem if we had run into the Artist a year ago.


    The force shook him free, and he went tumbling down into the crevice below. Before I realized what I was doing, I was hastily scaling my way back down. My fingers trembled. Tears ran freely down my cheeks.


    He¡¯s not dead. He¡¯s not dead. He¡¯s not dead.


    Reaching the bottom, I found the scorched remains of the tiger. I passed it quickly, looking around.


    Then I saw him.


    His ribs stuck out of his chest at angles they were never supposed to be. His arms were mangled, and his face was mauled. There was a big, gaping chunk that had been chewed out of it. As I drew closer, he wheezed.


    He was still alive.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to be able to save him, you know. You lack the necessary perspective.¡± The artist gloated.


    I drew closer, doing my best to clamp down on my emotions. I couldn¡¯t allow myself to feel right now, not while the situation was so dire. In theory, I knew how to heal. I had practised plenty on animals. We had never risked me trying it on a person, though.


    I would try it now.


    Trembling, I laid my palm upon one of his hands. Visualizing the changes I wanted to make, I started to push.


    I was fighting against both the artist and the world in my attempt, but I wasn¡¯t going to allow myself to fail here. Not like this.


    ¡°Girlie,¡± he choked out, a glob of blood making its way down the side of his mouth.


    ¡°Keep quiet while I try to save you,¡± I muttered, shoving my panic deep in a box.


    ¡°Promise me that¡­ You will keep¡­¡± He hacked out another cough.


    ¡°I¡¯m not promising you anything, Max. You¡¯re going to live. You¡¯re going to live because I am not going to let you die.¡±


    The changes weren¡¯t taking, no matter how hard I pushed against the Artist. It wasn¡¯t just his resistance that was the problem, either. There was just too much to do, and I simply wasn¡¯t skilled enough. I scaled back, trying to fix smaller things.


    He¡¯s not going to die, I won¡¯t let him.


    It wasn¡¯t working. I was healing injuries, moving ribs back into place and repairing his arms. But I wasn¡¯t fast enough, I could tell. Cancerous tumours started to well up on him, because of course I couldn¡¯t just fix things, could I? Then, his eyes glazed over and his hand slacked.


    He was gone.


    ¡°Your fate, just like his, has already been pencilled in.¡± The words registered distantly, but I wasn¡¯t even paying attention.


    Dazed, I sat there, not letting go. This wasn¡¯t the way he was supposed to go.


    I felt so empty. Like an important piece of me had been taken away.


    The scorching caress of the inferno continued to draw close.


    ¡°Promise me that you will keep moving forward.¡±


    Time seemed to slow for a moment.


    His words came back to me. A haunting echo, a reminder that he was gone. He was gone, but I had made him a promise. It was an old one, made back when we first met, but I still knew what he meant.


    I would make sure to honour his last wishes.


    I wasn¡¯t just one person among many aspiring to do better, but rather the Aspirant. Reaching for dreams, hoping for perfection. The impossible was only impossible until somebody had achieved it.


    And I would make myself into the person that could achieve it.


    In my head, a boundless expanse of nothingness appeared. Inside of it, innumerable figments suddenly burst into existence, almost like stars coming to life. Watching them reminded me of my swarm, from a place in my past that now seemed so very long ago.


    They gained substance rapidly, details filling out. Puzzle pieces. That¡¯s what they were. More than could ever be counted. Then, strings seemed to attach themselves one at a time to each piece, extending up infinitely to some point far beyond my sight.


    Inside my mind¡¯s eye, I looked at the shattered fragments of a great mosaic and stared.


    How could anyone ever make sense of all of this?


    A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I had wanted to be a hero, hadn¡¯t I? Seems that I finally achieved my goal. Just like every other hero, it started with an origin story.


    That was also how it would end.


    I didn¡¯t know how I would do it, but I knew what I would do. Search high and low, from one corner of the world to the other. I would find all of these fragments of Creation, then piece them together into a new story.


    One where villains couldn¡¯t be born.


    Because if villains have no origin stories, there couldn¡¯t be villains at all.


    There was an idealized Taylor out there, one living in a better world with happier people. She was only a dream, but one day that dream would be real.


    I hated it, find my answer like this. But Max wouldn¡¯t want me to give up on my dreams just because he died along the way.


    It did nothing to lessen the ache.


    Creation was broken. A broken land filled with people like me, and I would do my best to see that it was fixed.


    I couldn¡¯t do it alone. I knew that. But I didn¡¯t want to do it alone regardless. Carrying the hopes and dreams of the future by yourself was lonely, and I was sure there were plenty of people who would be willing to share the burden. Some of them would be smarter than me, able to guide me to the right answer.


    So I would ask them all to help, and have faith that it was offered in earnest.


    The mantle finished settling on my metaphoric shoulders and with it, my sense of the world changed. Creation no longer felt like a hostile place, instead it felt like a home I had been invited into. I felt like a guest.


    After so long feeling like I didn¡¯t belong, it was like a breath of fresh air.


    Only cost me my closest friend to earn that.


    To my surprise, the Choir of Compassion hadn¡¯t left in the aftermath. Instead, they seemed to treat my change of circumstances as an invitation of sorts. As if now that I had a Name and was allowed into Creation, direct exposure to their presence would no longer kill me. Parts of their aura started to seep into my own, changing it ever so slightly.


    What are they even doing?


    I focused on what they were doing. They sent back a mental impression that reminded me of my mother scolding me for tracking in mud on the clean floor after playing in the rain as a kid.


    Rude.


    I looked again, more closely this time. If I were to guess, it almost seemed as if they were¡­modifying the passive effect that I had on the world around me. Changing it so that I subtly influenced people to be more compassionate. The effect was very weak, so weak you would barely notice it at all. It wasn¡¯t permanent either, only lasting so long as they were nearby to me.


    And I was fine with that.


    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what I was doing to the world around me before, but this was almost certainly an improvement. So long as they didn¡¯t give me a halo or make me glow, I was willing to call this a win.


    And if they did either of those, well, I knew who to take my complaints to.


    Calernia could use a bit more compassion. It was something that it was lacking. Something told me that the Choir wasn¡¯t supposed to be doing this. That there were some arbitrary limitations imposed on them from above that they were supposed to be following that determined how much they could interfere with the world. Rules that I had¡­ bent, for want of a better word. An effect like this should only be permissible to someone sworn to them.


    I hadn¡¯t even considered the idea that long term exposure to a demon could change an Angelic Choir, but the idea worried me.


    I didn¡¯t want to corrupt the Choir of Compassion.


    This wasn¡¯t a concern I had expected to have. Evidently, the Gods Above and Below had not designed this system of theirs to account for heroic demons, even if they didn¡¯t care if I was here. If it was a problem, I knew they were capable of solving it without me.


    It felt weird acknowledging that an issue may exist that wasn¡¯t my responsibility to fix, but that was exactly what this was. It was completely beyond my ability to influence. If the Angels wanted me dead, they could just swat me like a fly. So I¡¯d have faith that the Gods responsible for them would handle the matter as required.


    For now, I would just take comfort in having their support on my journey as I strove to improve Creation.


    And if any villains had an issue with the idea¡­ Well, it wasn¡¯t like they could report the empathy engine to its manufacturer for being defective. They might just be smote in the process.


    They would probably deserve it, too.


    Time sped up.


    ¡°Now that we are down to one, it seems almost assured that my victory is inevitable.¡±


    The flames closed in and spots clouded my vision, but it didn¡¯t matter, none of it did. Regardless of how hot the flames of hell became or what monsters emerged from the dark, I would persevere.


    Eight incandescent silhouettes appeared over my shoulders, silently pushing me forward. One of them winked out. My head cleared out, the spots in my vision disappearing, and the wounds on my arm beginning to close.


    I tried to see if I could heal my friend. Actually fixing his biology proved to be easy now, as if restoration was a part of my Name. It did help that the Artist didn¡¯t even bother trying to block me. No surprises there, considering Max was dead.


    It was futile. I could fix his body, but I couldn¡¯t bring him back. Slowly, I closed his eyes.


    I¡¯d¡­deal with this later.


    I¡¯d promised Max I wouldn¡¯t abandon my goal, I¡¯d try not to let him down.


    Reaching out, I tried to form staggered platforms leading up. What would have strained me before, felt effortless now in comparison. A staircase carved from light blazed itself into being before me.


    The Artist tried to contest the effect, but it was like he was struggling against the current of a river. Creation was on my side here.


    I focused on my sense of him and angled my construction in the same general direction. He wouldn¡¯t be escaping alive.


    Frustrated, I started to climb. I suppressed a pang of grief as Max¡¯s body was swallowed by the flames behind me. I hated leaving it behind, but he would have wanted me to go on. Finally, I reached the top of the cliff. There was an empty plateau. In the middle of it was a mansion. It was just barely visible through ominous fog.


    Hardening my resolve, I approached. I would win this battle. This one and all the ones that came after it. Then, I would do my best to build a world better than the one that I had arrived in.

 Verism 2.09

    <h3 style="text-align: justify">Verism 2.09


    ¡°Two. A hero should expect to face many troubles during the span of their journey. When times are dark, recall that dawn always rises after dusk and take the next step forward.¡±


    ¨C ¡®Two Hundred heroic Axioms¡¯, author unknown


    <hr>


    I put the palm of my hand on the doorknob and turned it.


    For a moment, I debated trying to repair my arm. I was fairly certain I could do it now with no negative consequences. I elected to wait until after the fight. If he interrupted the process, I wasn¡¯t sure how badly it could end for me.


    While I was confident there weren¡¯t many people who could kill me, it was likely I could kill myself.


    ¡°So you managed to reach the end of this work, but it does not matter. You have canvassed the breadth of but the first of my masterpieces. Allow me to continue to share my wisdom with you.¡± He declared.


    Well, that was ominous.


    The door creaked as it opened. Looking inside, I tried not to be too surprised by what I saw.


    On the other side of the door was a lake.


    Why wouldn¡¯t he have a lake?


    That was just how the Arcadian Artist fought. He never fought people directly. Instead, he threw minions or environments at them. Constructs he had created by putting paint to canvas, given life through the strength of his Name. He was in the strictest sense a minion master.


    If I actually found him, I would have already won.


    Experimentally, I tried modifying the water on the other side. It ran golden as I did so. I didn¡¯t try particularly hard, since I was doing it more to learn where he was than to actually change the environment. As he pressed back, I felt the impression of him further in.


    Fine, I¡¯d follow through.


    ¡°So you pass through the mountain and arrive at the lake. Do be sure to share your impressions with me while you die. After all, I do value the critique.¡± It was impressive how he managed to worm further under my skin, considering I already wanted him dead.


    My gaze roved, drinking in the vista on the other side.


    Pastel blues and greens greeted me. Reeds peeked from the water and the sky itself was clouded over, with a light dusting of snow descending from above. The snow itself looked comical. It looked to be small blobs of titanium white tumbling out of the sky.


    Looking back briefly, I noted the progress of the flames. I wasn¡¯t sure if they would follow me from one scene to another. I hoped that they didn¡¯t.


    Then, I stepped through the doorway. My feet sunk into the oily water and squelched against the mud below. I was on the outer edges of the lake, where the water level was shallow enough that I could still stand. Checking behind myself once more, I noted that the door behind me had vanished. I was in a new landscape entirely.


    Now, where would I find the Artist?


    I took a moment to look around. In the middle of the lake, there was a small island that jutted out. A few evergreens had been painted on to it, their roots soaking in the water below. It had the whole mystical rainforest look to it. If this was a story ¡ª and it was, since there were Names involved ¡ª then that would be my destination.


    I eyed the lake critically.


    Swimming there was probably a bad idea. I had a hunch that the moment I tried, some sort of monster was going to come writhing up out of the depths. Considering my opponent, it would likely involve tigers. One giant tiger octopus, with tails for tentacles.


    Panning my gaze, I tried to find another solution. It didn¡¯t appear there was one.


    I wasn¡¯t willing to risk an interrupted teleportation to try to cross the distance, for the same reason I wouldn¡¯t try repairing my arm. Hesitantly, I tried creating platforms in the air. The Artist pressed back, shutting the attempt down.


    ¡­ I could break through by consuming one of my projections, but I sensed there was a cost associated with it. I didn¡¯t want to pay it if I didn¡¯t need to. Better to search for an alternative first.


    Suddenly, I felt a heat from behind me. Turning around, I was greeted by flickering flames. It seemed they had followed me from one scene to another after all. The added urgency was just what I needed to help add some excitement to my day.


    Lovely.


    I wasn¡¯t about to go swimming in the lake, and I wasn¡¯t prepared to be swallowed by the conflagration either. Shaping my intent, I seized upon the idea of the surface of the lake being solid and pushed. The Artist¡­didn¡¯t bother to contest my attempt. Ominous.


    The change rippled out across the lake from one side to the other. The water was still water, but the surface had become as hard as rock. Tentatively, I put my weight on my ad hoc platform. The effect held. Satisfied, I began to run.


    Halfway towards the middle of the lake and my fears were confirmed. Some giant squid monstrosity broke through the surface, its tentacle slamming down in front of me. Max would probably make some crass, suggestive comment at this point. A pang of grief shot through me.


    Don¡¯t think of Max right now, you can grieve later.


    ¡°Say hello to my pet, Sparkles, isn¡¯t he just the best? He¡¯s very happy to see you, you know.¡± The disembodied voice smirked.


    I leapt, my feet failing to find purchase on it. Stumbling, I fell into a roll on the other side. I glanced at it briefly.


    No tiger parts, at least.


    Before I could try to do anything about it, it had submerged itself again. Despite its bulk, it moved fast. Another appendage broke through the surface to my right, the ¡°ground¡± shuddering as it did so. Paint sprayed everywhere.


    Suddenly, I found myself hurtling through the air.


    Dimly, I realized a tentacle had smashed me from below the surface. My concentration broke and as it did so, the surface of the lake shifted, turning fluid once more. I crashed into it, finding myself submerged.


    It seems I am going swimming after all.


    Briefly, I caught a glance of an impressionist¡¯s interpretation of a kraken, before I came up gasping for air. The smell of oil was thick in my nose, and it was hard not to retch.


    This wasn¡¯t working.


    Fire had already made its way into this scene and as dangerous as it was, I considered the kraken to be the larger threat. It was also likely that the Artist wouldn¡¯t fight me on it. He seemed to like watching the world burn. I already knew that flames were effective against these constructs, there was no point in avoiding using them.


    The only problem was how to set it on fire without catching light myself.


    Treading water, I tried to firm the surface in front of me once more, only this time the Artist fought against it. I switched my focus to trying to create platforms instead. He scrambled to stop the latter, and the water turned solid as his resistance there gave way.


    As the surface solidified, I struggled to pull myself out of the paint with only one arm. I rolled to the side as another tentacle aimed at me, then took it as an opportunity, hurling a luminescent ball of flames its way. It struck, and the creature screeched, flailing around. The tentacle danced in the air like it was at a rave, the flames quickly spreading as it did.


    The inferno didn¡¯t actually seem to be burning the creature directly, instead it seemed more like the artist was fuelling the creature¡¯s continued existence by feeding it with souls. It angered me just how low the villains of creation could sink.


    I took a moment to try to dismiss the thing, just to see if I could. It was like slamming into a brick wall. I suspected that even if I burned a ghost on it, that approach was unlikely to succeed. The Artist had invested most of his efforts into making it as resilient as it was. In theory, that should make it easier for me to act on anything else.


    Considering I didn¡¯t actually care if the beast lived or died, I would focus on trying to avoid it. Fighting it was just giving the Artist more time to plot.


    I picked myself back up and sprinted for the island.


    Coughing, I looked ahead, trying to make out how much further I had to go. It looked to be just a couple of hundred more feet. Unfortunately, covering that distance while dodging the giant squid monster was turning out to be surprisingly hard.


    The smoke from the flames was starting to make it hard to breathe.


    My eyes were watering and, blinking, I found myself barrelling through the air once more. This time, the sting of flames singed my skin as I went up. The tentacle was on fire, of course.


    I need to try something else.


    It was risky, but I didn¡¯t want to stay on the surface of the water. Mentally, I visualized what I wanted. Then, with a shove, I told gravity to fuck off.


    I was so surprised when my attempt succeeded with no effort at all that I almost lost control of the working. It was so easy to do, too, the Artist barely even resisted my imposition.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Why is this so easy to do?


    ¡­ Because the Artist was starting to think smarter about how to fight like this. Block some effects, allow others through. The surprise factor alone could prove advantageous.


    A tentacle hurtling towards me broke me out of my reverie. Unfortunately, I had a new problem.


    How do I manoeuvre like this?


    I had made the attempt at the apogee, when my momentum was near zero. Trying to move, I found, had very little utility at all.


    Flailing, I was stuck floating in mid-air. As I did so, the surrounding air became a messy smear. I had seconds to get out of the way. Not knowing what else to do, I let the effect fade. A long blotch of paint swiped past my head, missing me narrowly as I dropped.


    Manifesting the same working again, I found to my mounting dismay that I kept falling. I just didn¡¯t fall any faster. I landed in the lake once more.


    Perhaps I should have tried to find a way to dispose of the beast, but just outright avoiding it seemed like a more conservative use of resources.


    Platforms, I need platforms.


    I hadn¡¯t been willing to pay the price before, but I was now.


    Hastily, I latched onto the idea. The Artist seemed to like this plan of mine a little less and actively fought back, but it was still something I could do.


    Another phantom aiding me disappeared.


    A horizontal platform of solid light blazed into existence, floating before me. Climbing onto it, I reshaped the platform as I went. Rapidly, I created a path that continuously sloped higher and higher up.


    Keeping an eye out for tentacles, I continued to ascend. I was taking a zigzagged route towards the island. Unfortunately, setting the beast alight had enraged it, and it was now far more proactive than before.


    Then, suddenly, I was out of its range.


    I looked down on it, taking a moment to catch my breath.


    Not so dangerous from up here, is it?


    ¡°Really, how rude. Holding yourself above my work like this. And people accuse me of putting on airs.¡± The Artist called out.


    A buzzing noise broke my contemplation. Some very poorly painted geese with snake heads entered the scene. Their feathers were blended together, and the scales weren¡¯t there at all. They hissed as they approached, coming down from above.


    The lake below me was a mess of flame, and I saw no reason to do the same for the sky. The inferno did slowly spread up, but it was far more gradual than if I just doused the sky in napalm.


    Improvising, I considered what I could do. Fire worked, but what else would?


    Suddenly struck by inspiration, I turned towards the geese. They were winging their way through a puffy grey cloud. I focused my attention on it and willed it to change. Shifting from paint to sparkling mineral oil, the clouds started to run. The Artist was so taken by surprise by what I attempted that by the time he started trying to contest me, the mutation was already complete.


    The clouds smeared all over the birds. Heartbeats later, and there was nothing left of the waterfowl. I smiled.


    Now if only I had come up with that solution sooner.


    Turning my attention back to the kraken, I realized that in its panic to escape the flames, it had partially beached itself. Half of its mass was stranded on the island, near where I could sense the Artist. Fortunately, the half that wasn¡¯t on fire was the part which was resting on the land.


    It seemed that a direct confrontation with it was almost a certainty.


    No matter. I had a weapon that was effective now and didn¡¯t rampage indiscriminately after use. I began to slowly descend. A drop of something landed on my forehead. Looking up, I saw the mineral oil falling from above.


    Perhaps this is what people imagine when they say weeping heavens.


    Okay, maybe it was somewhat indiscriminate then. At least if applied to the clouds.


    That was a problem. I wasn¡¯t willing to fight the thing while the world I was in went to the hells. Killing it might take too long and wasn¡¯t the goal regardless. That meant going around.


    Hurriedly moving my platform along, I made my way to the island. Circling around it, I came in from behind. Out of range as I was, the kraken¡¯s ineffectual flailing no longer bothered me. As my feet touched the red ochre soil, I started to run.


    More and more, it was becoming clear that the Artist¡¯s creation was breaking down.


    Stumbling over a vine, I found myself planted face first in front of what looked to be a staircase descending into the ground. Another underground villainous bunker, great. How likely was it that he had a self-destruct button? At least he probably didn¡¯t have a monster tucked away in a vault, on account of the monster currently flailing around on the beach.


    Climbing back onto my feet, I started to make my descent. My feet reverberated on the painted stone tiles below me. I passed through an arched doorway, the keystone engraved with the picture of a brush. Inside was a long passage, torches spread out evenly on either side. They flickered ominously, a dull orange that was barely bright enough to see by.


    I tried not to think too hard about whatever it was they were using to light the way.


    ¡°The hero scales the cliffs;


    And comes upon a lake


    But the beast rises up;


    And proves she¡¯s but a fake


    For rather than fight it;


    She then chooses to run


    Going down into my lair;


    Far away from the sun


    Painted into the ground;


    A place of dreams most grand


    Will the hero succeed;


    Or is this her last stand?¡±


    The voice of the Arcadian Artist echoed through his creation. He started loud, boisterous and ended trailing off ominously.


    Somehow, he became more and more obnoxious the longer this fight dragged on. It impressed me. Surely not all villains in Creation were this bad? Trapping people in painted worlds where you are free to monologue at them from safety while you hide away should not be allowed.


    Not even Coil was this clich¨¦d.


    Reaching the end of the corridor, I came to a split in the path. I looked left. I wasn¡¯t sure what was supposed to be down that path. Most of it had been consumed by flames, and the eye of an angry kraken glared through.


    Right, not going that way then.


    I bolted down the still existing corridor and came to a room with a chequered floor. The tiles alternated between black and white. The light was too poor to make out any of the finer details, but going by everything else, I was willing to bet the floor was trapped. Not willing to engage with this farce any further, I created a bridge of light from one end of the room to the other.


    The Artist wasn¡¯t happy with that and fought back, but I didn¡¯t care. Another ghost winked out. I would pay the price later, after the fight was done.


    Stepping onto it, I dashed across confidently. Behind me, I heard the roar of the beast and what sounded like the crash of a tentacle against stone. At the other side of the room was another corridor. This one was unlit, the light of the torches dying out a few feet in.


    As if this doesn¡¯t scream more traps.


    Creating a diffuse ball of light, I cautiously moved forward. Nothing appeared to happen. Slowly, I made my way to the other side, reaching a door. I opened it and blinked as I came face to face with another scene change.


    Just how many of these things did he have?


    This landscape appeared to be a world painted entirely underground. A sprawling cavern, stretching out for what seemed to be miles into the distance, with a roof maybe fifty feet up. The place was dimly lit by luminescent blue mushrooms that seemed to pulsate in the dark. Leading out from the doorway was a path that trailed towards a bridge across a river.


    I sent out another experimental pulse. I felt a return from somewhere close within.


    Not caring to spend much longer in the rapidly degenerating painting, I took a step through.


    I turned back. Just like the last time, the doorway was gone. I considered what came next. If this was a story, I had fought the monster and cleared the trial. That meant, in theory, all that was left was the confrontation. Which made this scene so odd.


    It appeared at first glance to be completely tranquil.


    Reaching the bridge, I crossed it. On the other side, was a small field of what looked to be cultivated mushrooms. Up ahead was a small building made out of what seemed to be wood. How would the people living in a place like this get wood? I guessed it was something the artist hadn¡¯t considered when he painted the scene.


    I reached the building. After trying the door, I found it unlocked. Opening it, I was met by an almost entirely bland room with a rectangular desk in the middle. Behind it, was a single chair and seated on it was the artist. He looked up at me and smiled condescendingly.


    ¡°Welcome to your new home. What are your thoughts on all of your accommodations?¡±


    Not willing to entertain more of his pontification, I attempted to snuff him out. He struck back viciously. My will struck against the full weight of the remaining souls, and I staggered in the process. He winked at me.


    Disoriented, I took a moment to recover before I made my next try at killing him. Burning a ghost to do it would be costly, but it was better than letting this drag out. Even with his current protections, I was certain I could find away around them.


    I just needed to be creative about how I made the attempt.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it obvious, my dear, capturing you was the goal from the very start? Your defeat was inevitable the moment you stepped from the threshold going from the second to the third scene. You see, the first two battles were a blending of Creation and my work. The third is my work. Watching you traipse around playing hero and fighting the monster was entertaining, I will admit. A bit of an indulgence on my part. But the very moment you stepped into this scene, I owned your soul.¡± The Artist monologued.


    That¡­didn¡¯t sound true to me. Ignoring the part where I wasn¡¯t sure if I even had a soul, I found it doubtful that it would be hard for me to escape. For him to protect himself like that, he had to give up on trying to contain me. If anything, it felt like he was trying to buy time. Despite the front he was putting on, he seemed to be extremely nervous.


    I examined the room closer as he talked. Briefly, I turned around and looked towards the entrance. Next to it was a doorway hidden just out of the corner of my sight that led into a frozen landscape.


    So that was what he wanted.


    He was hoping the Fae would bail him out.


    I wasn¡¯t willing to risk that fight. So I turned my attention back on him, preparing to kill him and then leave.


    That was when it all started to go wrong. Reality contorted, bending around me. Lines stretched out, each drawing towards a point on a canvas. Then all of them collapsed inwards. It was confusing, hard to watch. Everything became a blend of colours and I couldn¡¯t properly focus on the Artist.


    I found myself standing in Liesse once more. As I arrived, I briefly glanced around. The building itself was on fire, with most of its front face destroyed. There was no sign of Maxime at all. A pang of sadness welled up.


    Deal with it afterwards, Taylor.


    Moments later, the Artist appeared as well. Both of us had been forcibly ejected from his construction. I was in the process of preparing to snuff the artist out when I noticed he wasn¡¯t looking at me but was instead looking through a hole in the side of the building.


    I followed his gaze.


    A chariot slowly descended from the sky, pulled by a pair of pitch-black horses. It was heavily warded, to the point that I couldn¡¯t affect anything on it at all.


    The Sovereign of the Red Skies had arrived.


    ¡°Well, it seems I¡¯ve found the rapscallions responsible for torching the property value in this neighbourhood,¡± he announced.


    This was more trouble than I had bargained for.

 Verism 2.10

    ¡°The beginning of a new story often necessitates the closing of an old one. When embarking on a journey, be careful with what you choose to let go of, lest it be chosen for you.¡±


    ¨C Quote attributed to Tariq Isbili of the Dominion of Levant


    <hr>


    I didn¡¯t actually know much about what the Sovereign of the Red Skies could do, aside from hearsay. He had the kind of reputation that made it a good idea to not ever come to his attention. He had earned it during the Conquest by raining hell-fire down on the armies of Callow. Literally.


    That made him being here something I wasn¡¯t too happy about.


    But it wasn¡¯t the end of the world. I was confident I could deal with fire. So long as he wasn¡¯t a ward specialist, I should stand a chance in a fight.


    To his credit, the Arcadian Artist reacted to the presence of the Warlock almost immediately. He opened his mouth and spoke.


    ¡°Harmonize.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even been aware he could use that more than once, but considering I could use my own Grace repeatedly, it made sense. That was when pandemonium broke loose.


    I had only the briefest of moments to put up a defence. A shimmering sphere of light surrounded me, before I was sent blasting up into the sky by a narrow ray of frost. Like a pinball, I slammed into the chariot. The momentum sent me off at an angle and my barrier bounced up higher into the sky.


    Disoriented, I created a platform beneath myself before bringing my momentum to a halt. It was so easy in comparison to before. The world didn¡¯t fight me on it, and the Artist wasn¡¯t pitting his will against me either.


    Then, I took a moment to look around.


    The Artist had overlaid what appeared to be a battlefield from Arcadia on top of Creation. Spreading out from the building I had just been evicted from, was the intersection of Summer and Winter. Verdant jungles met icy tundra and high in the sky above, two familiar figures waged war against each other.


    Princess Sulia and the Prince of Nightfall.


    They each had about thirty attendants with them. On the Princess¡¯s side were winged knights, and on the Prince¡¯s side were horned figures riding what looked to be unicorns. They were broadly spread out, with about a hundred feet between each of them, and for some reason were locked in single combat.


    Two of them had been fighting amidst the wreckage of the building below.


    A raging pillar of flames shot from Sulia¡¯s fingers and was nimbly dodged by the Prince, only to smash into a cathedral in the distance. The agonized wails of innocents from the distance burned themselves into my mind.


    Hastily, I smothered the flames.


    To my frustration, the Prince returned the favour, dropping what looked like a large chunk of glacier at the Princess. She blasted it aside. It smashed into a tower, which toppled into another building nearby.


    They closed in on each other, weapons drawn. Lines of fire and frost traced themselves into the sky, painting mesmerizing patterns. If it hadn¡¯t been over an actual city, it would have been spectacular to watch.


    Roaring infernos and shards of frost were rapidly flying backwards and forwards, with a significant portion of the excess smashing down onto the city below.


    I made a few more attempts to intercept projectiles, before conceding that approach was futile.


    Neither side was particularly discriminate in how they chose to fight.


    The merging of Arcadia and Liesse ended, but the figures remained.


    As if the day could get any worse.


    The two Fae Royalty were so busy with each other that they hadn¡¯t bothered to restrain me at all. I was able to affect most of a mile around me, although nothing within a couple of feet of them, or the Warlock.


    The Warlock, who coincidentally had something like eight dense layers of sigils around him, was no longer focusing on either me or the Artist. He had instead turned his attention to the sky. The glyphs snaked around him sinuously, and more of them were rapidly starting to appear. I didn¡¯t have even the slightest idea what he was attempting to do.


    It made sense for me to try to make an escape here, I knew I was probably out of my depth.


    I couldn¡¯t.


    Letting an entire city be destroyed in a bid to keep myself safe would be a regret I wasn¡¯t willing to take on. Not when I was able to help.


    So as stupid as it was, I was going to tentatively try to assist the Warlock, even though I knew it was probably a bad idea.


    That didn¡¯t mean I wouldn¡¯t fight back if he didn¡¯t honour this unspoken offer of truce.


    I would just treat this like an Endbringer fight.


    If I were to guess, the Warlock was a much bigger danger than almost any other villain to me. He had a Name with a focus on magic, which automatically gave him an edge.


    But saving people was more important than engaging him in a fight. I wasn¡¯t sure I could beat him if he did choose to attack, but I wouldn¡¯t back down if he did. He was one of the Calamities who didn¡¯t actually do anything currently indispensable.


    As far as I knew, the Warlock didn¡¯t build or maintain infrastructure, and he wasn¡¯t involved in running either Callow or Praes either. I didn¡¯t know how much he contributed to the mental wellbeing of the other Calamities, but if he did help there, that was arguably the only positive thing he had ever done with his life. ¡°The mass murderer has friends, too,¡± wasn¡¯t a very good reason to keep anyone around. In every way that mattered, he was a net negative to society.


    The world would go on without him.


    I didn¡¯t maintain much in the way of hope for trying to negotiate what I wanted with the Calamities, but if I didn¡¯t at least try, then I had only myself to blame for it. Killing the Warlock might cut off that avenue entirely, but I doubted it. My impression of the villains in Calernia so far told me that they would happily negotiate with somebody over the corpse of their mother while loudly declaring their eternal friendship with the murderer.


    Searching, I spotted a small, single storey building on the ground below and willed it away. I felt a small pang of guilt, but the owner could always replace the building. The same wasn¡¯t true for people¡¯s lives. In the sky, just a few feet above the tallest steepled rooftop, an inverted parabolic dish with a curled in lip stretched out below the combatants. It extended about a hundred feet in all directions from their point of conflict.


    I hoped that any incidental attacks would fall into it and be properly contained.


    In theory, it made more sense to try to imprison the two Fae Royals. Practically, I knew that they could break through almost anything I attempted to erect unless I burned a ghost on it. I wasn¡¯t willing to go that far just yet. Not when I had other options. This would hopefully halt any splash damage from making its way down to the ground.


    The smashing of flames and frozen projectiles into it felt like the pitter-patter of rain against my head, but was otherwise unremarkable.


    What next?


    I needed people to evacuate, or at least be aware that there was an emergency. As far as I knew, there weren¡¯t any emergency protocols in Liesse for something like this, but that didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t do my best. I took a moment and focused, visualizing what I wanted.


    A large section of road vanished and as it did, a sense of unnatural calm fell on everyone within the full mile radius of my aura. Emotional manipulations were the only effects I could actually extend that far without exhausting myself. Normally I wouldn¡¯t bother, but right now seemed like a good time to go all out.


    Great. There is no way I don¡¯t establish the wrong kind of reputation like this. But if it works¡­


    Panic in an emergency was bad. By doing something this overt, it made it clear there was a problem, and that people needed to move without causing a riot. It wasn¡¯t much, but this was a way I could prevent more harm while dealing with the threat. Then, I let out the wail of an alarm, shouting at people to leave the area. The fight in the sky was hard to miss, so I didn¡¯t exactly need to point out where it was, I just required them to keep a level head and move out of the way.


    A towering column of fire smashed into my barrier. The shield shattered into shards, and the conflagration flattened a two-storey building in the distance.


    It seems I need a better barrier.


    Committing to the loss, the fourth spectre vanished. With only three more left, this was something I was sure to regret later. The more of them I burned through, the higher the eventual cost. I also wasn¡¯t happy using them on what was probably the less dangerous enemy, but at least I was reasonably sure the Warlock wouldn¡¯t burn the city down to the ground.


    A massive, golden, translucent sphere materialized around the two major combatants. It should in theory keep them contained for long enough for the Warlock to finish whatever it was he was doing, while allowing them to continue killing each other.


    The prison itself rapidly became a wash of oranges and blues as they continued to trade attacks.


    A migraine began to build up in my head. While they were content to fight each other inside of it, the incidental damage that was accumulating was still placing a strain on me.


    It also did nothing about the remaining Fae, but they were not beyond my ability to affect.


    Fire and hail continued to fall mercilessly out of the sky as the attendants continued to trade blows in their almost hypnotic duels.


    This wasn¡¯t acceptable.


    A wave of hell-fire blasted its way into the sky from behind the Warlock¡¯s chariot. Ten of the Winter Fae vanished as a result of his efforts.


    Reaching out mentally, I tried to snuff the Summer Fae out. To my surprise, it was effortless in comparison to my previous encounter with the Prince of Nightfall. Four of them vanished into a puff of smoke. Whoever these attendants were, they clearly weren¡¯t important.


    That didn¡¯t stop them from making a mess of the city below.


    A detonation sounded out, uncomfortably close to where I was.


    That was when a new surprise added itself to the field of combat.


    It seems the day can actually get worse.


    I hadn¡¯t been sure what had happened to the kraken. I could have been quite happy continuing to go on with my life, blissfully unaware.


    Looking down from above, I caught sight of a sixty-foot wide squid materializing. It was spread out across the roofs of several nearby buildings and seemed somewhat diminished compared to when I first engaged it. Currently, it was flailing around with half of its body on fire. I suspected it would be more of a threat to civilians than me or the Warlock.


    If I knew where the Artist was, disposing of it would likely be as easy as killing him. Unfortunately, I had lost sight of him on account of the much larger threats.


    I felt control of my prison begin to slip away, as if someone else was trying to wrest it from me. It took me a moment to realize what was happening. The Warlock wanted control of it. I let him have it. The extra mental toll it added on wasn¡¯t worth the effort of being the one responsible for containing the combatants. If he wanted to contend with the Fae, he was more than welcome to.


    The relief I felt as possession of the sphere passed to him made it much easier to focus on the fight.


    Turning my attention to the remaining lesser Fae, I snuffed them out almost disdainfully. They weren¡¯t in Arcadia, they were in Creation, and right now the rules were on my side. All that remained was the octopus, the Princes, and the Warlock. Time for me to choose a new foe.


    I looked briefly to my left and saw the Warlock in his chariot, surrounded by a dizzying array of magics. He was half a hundred feet away, floating in the air, much like myself. So far he had not taken a shot at me. For now, I would leave him be.


    The Fae were a problem I couldn¡¯t deal with, but the kraken was one I likely could.


    Where is Roland? The city is going to the hells and I need help!


    One of the squid¡¯s tentacles smashed into the side of a two-story building, demolishing it and sending debris hurtling towards the Warlock. The Warlock¡¯s Chariot ascended, being missed by only a hair¡¯s breadth.


    The tentacle wrapped around some shrieking civilians. Reacting on instinct, I coated it with a layer of rime. Before I could do anything else, it squeezed, sending viscera spraying all over the area. Frustration at my failure to save them reared up, but I mentally batted it aside.


    Fuck.


    I wasn¡¯t about to let this slide.


    Once more, I started to ascend. There was no reason to remain within the construct¡¯s range. Layering panels of hardened light in the sky, I rose up, gaining a better view of the fight.


    I tried to dismiss the thing, but it had been stuffed with what seemed like every last soul the artist had. This really was his attempt to go out in a blaze of glory, wasn¡¯t it?


    The Warlock reached into his robes and then tossed what I guessed was salt into the air. It vanished in a cloud of coloured smoke. Then his large working finished, and eight rings of darkness snapped into place around the barrier he had stolen from me. The hues inside the sphere almost seemed to wash out, as if the contents were partially displaced from creation.


    The sigils floating around the Warlock compressed into a minute, intricate sphere that began to orbit his left hand.


    One tentacle slammed down on another building, and another swerved towards the Chariot. The building that the kraken was on had caved in entirely, its mass falling through into the rooms below.


    Nimbly, the Warlock moved his chariot out of the way once more. He had started up another major working, but I wasn¡¯t sure what it was.


    Concentrating on the squid, I focused my attention and honed it to a point. Then, I transfigured the remains of the surrounding building into a mass of mineral oil. What was good for the goose should be good for the kraken, after all.


    The creature let out an unholy shriek, flailing like a toddler. Two more people were sent hurtling into the sky. Carefully, I suspended them and started lowering them to the ground. I wasn¡¯t sure how injured they might be, but there wasn¡¯t much I could do about it right now. At least, not with all the larger ongoing concerns.


    Looking back at the kraken, I frowned. That hadn¡¯t been what I was aiming for when I attacked it this way.


    I was about to try working on a method of containment for the beast when two sinuous snakes of fire headed my way from the Chariot. It seemed that despite the ongoing disaster, the Warlock was willing to engage me as well. It didn¡¯t really surprise me. Expecting people to work together in defence against shared enemies would be far too reasonable.


    If it didn¡¯t happen when the world ended, why would it happen against all of this?


    I tried to dematerialise the snakes. To my mounting frustration, my will found no purchase. Who used wards to throw fire at people? He had weakened the boundaries of creation in a line trailing towards me, and the flames were simply fire from some other dimension leaking through. I tried containment next. Snow was pulled out of the surrounding environment. It snaked up into the air and formed a sphere around the snakes. Collapsing inwards. The snakes disappeared.


    I sent a helix of light spiralling towards the chariot in thanks for his gift of snakes. It returned to me as a flock of flaming swallows. Already having an effective method of containment, I encased them in snow. Problem dealt with, I turned my attention back to the ongoing disaster.


    This isn¡¯t going anywhere.


    This part of the city looked, smelled and sounded like it had been through an Endbringer attack. Most of the buildings within sight were either frozen, on fire, or in the process of being crushed by the beast. Explosions rang out, and hallow screams of despair could be heard in the distance.


    Smoke rose up everywhere, making it difficult to keep track of what was going on.


    I started trying to restrain the kraken. Debris disappeared, and chains of light started to restrain the creature. Heartbeats later, the chains broke.


    ¡­ Well, if I can¡¯t contain it directly, what about indirectly?


    I carved out a chunk of the city centred on the squid, then sent it levitating up into the air. At that point, I slowly started to reshape it into what would hopefully be an effective prison.


    A tentacle slammed into the flying chariot, sending it crashing into the ground below. Idly, I looked down and caught a proper glimpse of the Warlock. He was a dark skinned, broad shouldered, bedraggled looking man. Dusting off his burgundy and gold robes, he stepped out of the wreckage.


    I was snapped out of my reverie by another tentacle coming down from the island above.


    Maybe raising this thing in the air wasn¡¯t the smartest idea after all.


    The tentacle almost pulped me. I had mere moments to surround myself in a stronger barrier. That didn¡¯t stop the pane of light I was standing upon from shattering under the force of the impact. I was sent careening towards the pavement below.


    Despite the cushioning of my shield, I still found myself bruised as I climbed out of the wreck beside the Warlock. I hacked out a cough. The acrid taste of the smoke was cloying this close to the carnage.


    The Warlock spared a glance in my direction, then turned away and focused on the squid.


    I tried to attack him with a beam of light once more, but it slammed against one of his barriers.


    The kraken continued to flail above. It hadn¡¯t attempted to leave the island yet, despite my efforts to contain it having failed. One of its tentacles slammed into a building on its platform and sent it flying off into the distance. It smashed against the city walls, causing parts of them to crumble. The structure must have contained something highly flammable, as it had ignited in a blaze of green.


    That part of the city burned against my etheric touch. I yelped.


    A look of annoyance briefly crossed the Warlock¡¯s face. ¡°Only I am legally allowed to send this city to the hells,¡± he declared.


    Well, isn¡¯t that ominous.


    That was when he pulled out a silver knife and slit his right palm. Three drops of blood fell onto the pavement. At that moment, the second major working he had begun finally drew to a close.


    ¡°Up you go,¡± He said, sounding positively cheerful despite the ongoing fight.


    The kraken appeared to be picked up off of my floating island, as if hoisted by an invisible hand. Seeing no reason to keep it up there any longer, I gradually lowered the chunk to the ground. The squid rose higher and higher, floating up in the sky. Flailing about, it seemed to strike invisible barriers around it. Wards. He was containing and lifting it with wards.


    He waved his bloody palm absently in the direction of the beast, and then said only a single word. ¡°Crunch.¡±


    The surrounding air stilled, as if the world was holding its breath. Then the wards around the cephalopod began to compress. As the sphere grew smaller, its outline became visible. An intricate gold latticework that was slowly closing in. As fascinating as it would be to watch the beast implode in slow motion, I suddenly had much more pressing concerns.


    The Warlock turned my way, his eyes narrowing.


    ¡°Aspirant, that¡¯s a Name I haven¡¯t seen before. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll learn something fascinating once I have your frozen corpse on an operating table.¡±


    Suffice to say, I wouldn¡¯t be too happy with that arrangement.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just pretend I wasn¡¯t here?¡± I asked. I tried dropping a large rock on him from above while we spoke. If I wanted to have a chance here, then I needed some way past his barriers, since I couldn¡¯t just affect him directly.


    ¡°I think not,¡± he replied, amused. Without even turning to look at the rock, he detonated it into a shower of splinters.


    With his right hand, he started working on another staggeringly complex spell.


    The intricate array from his earlier spell continued to orbit around his left wrist. Dagger still in hand, he fired a beam of frost from his index finger my way. Scrambling, I dived to my left. The cool air overhead warned me how narrowly I had avoided being iced. I responded in kind. I fired a particoloured beam of light in his direction while starting to dash away. The ground was precarious, the roads a mess after all the conflict. I made patchwork changes to it while trying to make my escape.


    I floated the shard of a broken mirror in front of me, giving me a way to watch him as I ran. Considering what I had seen his last two major workings achieve, sticking around didn¡¯t seem to be smart.


    The Warlock ignored my attack disdainfully, and it fizzled out once more against his shield. He didn¡¯t seem to even bother trying to attack me, instead working on completing the more intricate effect. Then he started to chant under his breath.


    Ominous.


    Right, it seemed that line of attack was a dead end. It didn¡¯t really surprise me, but it was best to be sure.


    Hoping to buy myself some time, I shrouded him in clouds of billowing darkness and continued to run towards the end of the alley. It lasted about ten heartbeats before a weird green acid like substance started to eat its way through the effect.


    Beside me, I noted a boy whimpering in pain. His features were badly scorched, and he looked no more than ten years old.


    Fine, I¡¯ll help the kid.


    It wasn¡¯t the sensible option, but I couldn¡¯t just leave the kid when it would only take a moment to help him out. I stopped, then focused on healing his wounds. The process was effortless.


    Of course, it¡¯s easy now that Max is dead.


    Pulling in some rubble from beside me, I did the same for my eyesight and my arm. Now that I was out of the painting, I was willing to take the risk. With the help of my Name guiding me, it took only a couple of heartbeats and barely any effort at all.


    Not that having those fixed did much for me here. This wasn¡¯t a fight I would win with two arms.


    I started running away once more.


    Do I risk teleporting away?


    Doing so would almost certainly tire me out. Teleportation was hard to do, although I could do it to anywhere within both my line of sight and my presence. The problem was, if the Warlock came after me after teleporting, I wouldn¡¯t be able to defend myself for long.


    I didn¡¯t know how effective illusions would be against the Warlock. It was clear to me, though, that nothing else I had tried so far had succeeded. If he placed a ward around me, I probably wouldn¡¯t escape. Focusing, I manifested the most distracting image I could think of. A not insignificant chunk of road vanished from my left, and a massive vision of the Brockton Bay skyline blossomed into existence around us.


    Illusory skyscrapers manifested from nothing, overlapping the increasingly damaged city of Liesse. Parts of a fake building imposed themselves between myself and the Warlock, cutting off his view. After everything else that had happened, it was a significant mental drain. Despite this, it was still much less of an effort than attempting to teleport. I took a gasping breath, then started to run once more.


    Then, I felt a ward slam down, locking me in place.


    It pinned my movement, preventing me from moving anywhere outside a very small area.


    The illusion fizzled out.


    The Warlock hadn¡¯t even looked up from his working.


    This is bad.


    The ward hadn¡¯t limited my ability to act within it, but that didn¡¯t really matter at all if I couldn¡¯t leave.


    Letting the mirror fragment drop, I turned back and faced the Warlock. I would need to find another way to resolve this before he brought the fight to a close.


    The pitch of his voice rose. His spell was nearing its end.


    What else could I try? Maybe I could use a vacuum offensively? I created an opalescent sphere around him, about eighteen feet in diameter. That way, there was no interference from his wards. I made the effort to evacuate all the air out of it.


    Briefly, I found purchase before he twisted my sphere in some way and the air came rushing back in. To my dismay, I found that he was exceptional at working with barriers.


    His larger, more complicated working continued. The sibilant chanting from the Warlock drew to a stop.


    He opened his mouth once more, only this time it was to converse with me. His voice was deep and he spoke loudly. I could hear him clearly, despite the distance between us. ¡°Would you care to enlighten me as to how such a thing as you earned a Name at all?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer. I was running out of ideas on what to do. How about modifying the temperature? I superheated the air outside his protections, then was forced to duck behind the remains of a building as he sent the air billowing away.


    I felt another ward fall in place, cutting my range in half.


    He didn¡¯t seem to be sure of exactly how to contain me, but that didn¡¯t matter much. He was working it out fast.


    The Warlock started to funnel the heated air up into the sky absently, so I removed the excess heat again and converted it into an attractive force centred on him.


    Parts of the chariot¡¯s wreckage nearby came hurtling towards him. Without even sparing it a glance, he blasted it, sending it careening through a stained-glass cathedral window in the distance.


    What else can I do?


    As far as I could tell, he had limited my movement horizontally, not vertically. I didn¡¯t know if it was possible to climb high enough to escape the trap. But I would give it a try.


    Running on spiralling radiant platforms back up into the sky, I transfigured some debris around the Warlock into sand, then turned the grains into glass. Levitating the shards, I sent them hurtling his way rapidly in an undulating cloud. He reacted quickly, trapping the glass in a spatial deformity that caused it to loop in on itself. It was only a couple of heartbeats before the glass vanished somewhere else that was beyond my ability to affect.


    Another ward locked into place, cutting off my ascent.


    What other options did I have left?


    ¡­ I should have teleported out while I still had the chance.


    That was when the spell the Warlock was working on finished.


    The world as I knew it began to distort. I didn¡¯t know what the effect was doing to me, but I didn¡¯t want to find out. Scrambling, I pitted my will against his. I had no luck. As I expected, it was a ward. A monstrously complicated ward.


    Fuck.


    In the moments I had spent inspecting it, he had taken an already complicated spell and pushed it far beyond what I even had a hope to understand. Feeling it out with my mind, it was like I was inside an intricate knot. No matter how I moved, it felt like I was tied down.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It reminded me of the feel of the banner when the three of us had fought the absence demon, only this time from the inside.


    ¡­ The Warlock wasn¡¯t just trying to contain me. He was attempting to bind me.


    A sliver of dread slid up my spine and panic started to set in. I wasn¡¯t willing to spend however long serving as this monster¡¯s slave.


    ¡°You would be a proper nightmare to fight with another twenty or so years tacked on,¡± he added absently.


    I tried feeling my way through the effect. It wasn¡¯t stopping me entirely from affecting the world just yet, although I suspected that was still to come.


    Instead, it was trying to chain me to the will of the man. Force me to obey his every command. More and more, my actions became sluggish, as if my body no longer followed my own commands.


    Find something, Taylor. Anything!


    In a bid to distract him, I turned my attention to the ground beneath his feet, vanishing it. He stumbled for a moment, but his grip on the spell remained firm.


    ¡°What are you anyhow? There are twenty-three kinds of demons and girl, you aren¡¯t one of them. You aren¡¯t a person either, that is for sure,¡± he continued to talk conversationally. He walked as he spoke, coming to a stop leaning against the wall of one of the now ruined buildings nearby.


    ¡°Whyyyyy don¡¯t you tell meee, se you¡¯re so talkative? Therrrre¡¯s only sooooo long before I you down,¡± I slurred out a taunt. The effect was ruined by how hard I needed to struggle just to speak, but I doubted he would be impressed regardless.


    More and more invisible strings started to latch onto me. I felt like a mummy, wrapped tight in linen cloth.


    A part of me hoped I could distract him by drawing him into a monologue. The villains around here seemed to love those. I wasn¡¯t sure what I would do with the distraction, but any extra time would help.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t even hold your own against an oversized fish, girl. Don¡¯t bother pretending that you¡¯re in my league.¡± He replied.


    He reached into his robes, pulling out more spell components as he talked. My efforts to distract him were proving to be futile. Whatever he was doing in his bid to bind me, he was doing without seeming to pay much attention to it. From the moment he had started to actually engage with me, it had quickly become clear just how outclassed I was.


    What else could I do? I could try to send more direct attacks his way, but I doubted it would do much. Fireballs, lightning, and beams of ice all had the same problem, and the moment he finished binding me, it was over.


    Do I risk it?


    I wasn¡¯t sure if anything I could do could break through his wards directly, but if anything could, it would be something that I hadn¡¯t been able to do before. There was a chance it knocked me out in the process, but I would rather risk it then just give in and accept being this monster¡¯s slave.


    Turning my attention towards some debris, I put all of my attention into transmuting it into sand. It took three tries, and tears of frustration pooled at the edges of my eyes as I worked.


    Come on, Taylor. You can do this.


    I didn¡¯t want him to catch onto my plan before it went into effect, so I sent it swirling around him as is. Despite appearing non-threatening, he made the effort to disperse it regardless.


    It seemed I was going to have to take a gamble on it working from a distance then.


    Please let this work.


    Struggling, I suppressed hysteria as I repeated the sand generation a third time. Then, I focused on my impression of Fl¨¦chette¡¯s power, digging deep into persevere. Doing something like this was beyond me without a Name, but I wasn¡¯t so sure now. Straining, I imbued the effect into the sand. The fifth ghost vanished.


    Mentally, I commanded all the sand to move.


    I didn¡¯t discriminate, I didn¡¯t care what it hit along the way. I just wanted this man gone.


    It swirled towards him, a violent, destructive sandstorm that annihilated anything with mere touch alone.


    His eyes widened in shock. It was the first time anything I had done had actually drawn a reaction. He spat out an incantation faster than I could hear, and it seemed as if the very dimensions between him and the incoming sand rapidly contorted.


    For a moment, it was as if there were multiple realities overlapping where the dust storm was.


    From what I could tell, he was attempting to send the cloud somewhere else. I tried fighting back against him, making the effort to ensure that my plan worked.


    The result was somewhere between both of our goals, which meant that in the end I lost out.


    The cloud of dust went spiralling through the broken remains of a nearby cathedral, shredding what little was left of the place.


    My shoulders sagged in despair.


    Moments later, reality folded in on itself, and my attack vanished to somewhere that I couldn¡¯t affect.


    That plan had failed. Worse, he knew to expect it now.


    This wasn¡¯t happening. I wasn¡¯t willing to accept this. I would try again and again, forever and ever, if need be. Eventually, he would slip up.


    That was when I felt my perception gradually start to shrink. The horizon crept in. It started slow, at a snail''s pace. The effect wasn¡¯t limited to just one sense, either. It was as if a bubble had been placed around me and was inexorably closing in.


    Much like with the octopus.


    I tried to imbue something at the horizon with the same destructive effect to break the ward, but found that the Warlock had corrected his previous oversight. He had done something to interfere with my senses. The result significantly hampered my ability to fight back.


    My attempt fizzled out.


    Panicking, I tried directly pushing back against the working in a clash of wills. I didn¡¯t really expect it to work, but it was better than doing nothing. At first, I had no luck, and my mind just slid into a complicated knot. But as the effect grew closer, it became easier for me to understand what was going on.


    I¡¯m not going to be this man¡¯s slave! I won¡¯t allow it!


    So I began to innovate, creating a defence of my own.


    It took some effort, but eventually I was able to shape my will into a crude shimmering boundary and use the meeting point between his many gossamer threads and my barrier to stall the jaws of the trap. It was an attempt at a counter-ward of sorts, albeit without any of the Warlock¡¯s finesse.


    They latched onto my shield, but they weren¡¯t latching on to me. It bought me a moment¡¯s reprieve. Time that I desperately needed if I wanted to break free.


    I kept tinkering on my defence while I thought. I didn¡¯t have much hope that I would succeed, but I wasn¡¯t prepared to just give up.


    In the background, I saw the Warlock start up another spell.


    Please hold.


    His efforts to contain me slowed. After a while, the two of us came to a draw. There were thousands of threads wrapped around my kludged together shield, but they were unable to press in any further. The Warlock scowled at me.


    ¡°You¡¯ve made a fine mess of this city, and I mislike being made into a janitor. Your first act of civil service will be cleaning up this carnage.¡± The man declared. Soon after, he completed his new working.


    Three golden rings manifested into Creation. They locked into place around my prison. Then, the sphere started to rise even further into the air. I remained positioned in the centre as it began to ascend. Another, smaller ward manifested inside the first. To my horror, my ability to resist was limited to the latter.


    My counter-ward winked out.


    The horizon started to creep in again. Even more of my control over myself started to slip away.


    It was reaching the point where it felt like there were two people in my body. Me, and the part of me that had to follow his rules.


    I scrambled against his working. My answer had not been good enough, I needed a better one. There had to be a way to bypass the wards around the Warlock entirely and then just snuff him out. I wasn¡¯t willing to simply accept being put on a leash or stuffed into a box. I turned my attention to his protections more fully, trying to work out exactly what it was that the Warlock had surrounded himself with.


    Gradually, I started to make sense of his aegis. There were many wards, far more than there first appeared to be. They were closely layered and overlapped on a minute scale, but something told me that while they existed in this dimension, they didn¡¯t exist in all the others. So what if I navigated through the void and attacked him on the other side?


    The half of my mind that I still had control over focused on the part of me that cohabited with the Choir, then started trying to circumvent the barrier he had put up. My plan was foiled almost immediately. The Warlock realized what I was doing and a new set of barriers fell into place.


    ¡°Enough of this.¡± He cracked his knuckles below.


    ¡°Link.¡± He stated.


    My heart flopped around somewhere on the ground beside the Warlock. I didn¡¯t know what he was about to do. But I knew that whatever it was, it couldn¡¯t be good.


    The meniscus of the inner sphere seemed to change subtly. It wasn¡¯t something I could see visually. I couldn¡¯t hear or feel it either. It was just something I could sense. As if there was now a connection between the bubble and somewhere else. That place wasn¡¯t pleasant. I could taste the crackle of fire and brimstone. A world made of nothing more than lava, ashes, and dust.


    One of the hells, it has to be.


    It made sense. If he decided that he couldn¡¯t safely bind or kill me, just stuffing my somewhere else until he had a better answer would work.


    ¡°Nah, we¡¯ll be having none of that,¡± a familiar voice said, butting in. It tickled the back of my memory, but I wasn¡¯t sure where I had heard it before.


    The Warlock turned around in surprise. I struggled to crane my neck.


    A fair skinned woman who looked to be in her early twenties with red hair and a heart shaped face was leaning against the ruined axel of the chariot. It was more or less the last part of the wreckage which hadn¡¯t been either destroyed or moved somewhere else.


    I blinked.


    How is that wheel balancing without the chariot supporting it?


    I let out a rasping laugh, thick with hysteria.


    The woman was about a finger¡¯s length shorter than me. She was just outside the area I could currently affect, and wore a dishevelled green shirt and trousers. In her left hand she was holding a flask and in the other, a lute. Standing on the broken remnants of a road, she raised the flask as if to salute, then took a deep gulp. After swallowing, she gagged.


    ¡°This stuff is vile,¡± she stated, then glared at me. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure why, but the look she gave me made it feel like she held me personally responsible for the contents of the flask.


    ¡°A bard,¡± the Warlock said. ¡°By far the most irritating type of Name ever inflicted upon us by Creation.¡± He paused. ¡°On the other hand, I have been meaning to dissect one of those. I thank you for the sacrifice you¡¯ve volunteered to undertake on behalf of the Empire.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t place where I should know her from. It was annoying me, like a frustrating buzz at the back of my head from a fly that needed to be killed. If I wasn¡¯t busy trying to find a way out of the Warlock¡¯s trap, I was sure the answer would be obvious. Unfortunately, between the screams from injured people in the distance, the smoke, and the bindings I was struggling against, I was fresh out of attention to give.


    The Warlock started to turn away from her. ¡°Nonetheless,¡± he continued. ¡°Please wait in line, I¡¯m busy rehousing my latest acquisition first,¡± he emphasized and pointed at me.


    ¡°That got personal for the both of us really quickly,¡± the Bard replied, affecting mock offence on my behalf. ¡°I mean seriously, look at her. She¡¯s just a perfectly normal girl who isn¡¯t really there up here,¡± she tapped the side of her head. ¡°She isn¡¯t yours at all. Fortunately, both of us are totally going to escape.¡±


    Thanks, I guess?


    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure if that was more or less offensive than being called an acquisition by the Warlock. I wasn¡¯t about to say as much, though. It didn¡¯t seem like a good idea to interrupt her, seeing as she seemed to be holding the man¡¯s attention. Why she had decided to take my side in what was increasingly seeming to be a suicidal act wasn¡¯t entirely clear to me.


    If I weren¡¯t currently tied down, I would probably give her a hug. Right now, I greatly appreciated any support at all.


    ¡°Do get on with explaining how you will be managing that,¡± the Warlock asked, amused.


    ¡°Oh no, see, I didn¡¯t have to actually do anything. I was just the distraction.¡± The bard replied, taking another pull.


    From behind me, I heard a voice that renewed my hope.


    ¡°Confiscate.¡±


    The spell orbiting the Warlock¡¯s arm flickered out. It was only the first to go.


    All the wards surrounding me fell next. The relief at suddenly feeling full control return to me was all the encouragement I needed to turn tail and leave.


    Run, Taylor!


    Taking the opportunity, I spun around as I fell. I spotted Roland on the ground below me. He looked as lethargic as I was. Turning my gaze as far away as I dared to aim, I teleported blindly and included him in the effect. I didn¡¯t know where we ended up. I didn¡¯t exactly care. So long as it wasn¡¯t near the Warlock, it was good enough for me. I felt exhaustion dig deep into my bones.


    To my muted embarrassment, we were high up in the air wherever we arrived. Roland yelped. The two of us began to fall. Not wanting to become closely acquainted with the ground from up high, I formed sloping barriers of light beneath us.


    Behind us, I heard the detonations of fire and shattering of frost as the fight between the Fae phased back into Creation once more.


    ¡°Run, Roland!¡± I shouted. I didn¡¯t know if he heard me, but this wasn¡¯t a fight we would win.


    It was time for us to heel and toe our way out of this mess.


    ¡°I will, Taylor,¡± he affirmed.


    It was the shortest sentence I had ever heard him say.


    Then, I took a brief look over my shoulder.


    The Prince of Nightfall was ducking and weaving his way behind buildings, using them as cover from Sulia¡¯s onslaught while he mustered up his own responses.


    There was¡­ a lot of incidental damage as a result.


    Taking my own advice, I ran on my golden bridge as we vacated the battlefield.


    Under us, I noted crowds of people. Far more than I would have expected, considering everything else that had occurred. Why hadn¡¯t they left? Staying close to a fight of this magnitude was certain doom. Was it some weird disaster tourism hobby shared by all the locals?


    It took me a few moments for me to catch up to Roland. Side by side, we continued to make our way out.


    ¡°Would you care to explain what manner of idiocy possessed you to pick a fight with the Warlock?¡± Roland berated from my side.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t pick the fight!,¡± I shouted back, my voice shrill.


    What I had seen of the Warlock so far convinced me that if we stuck around to fight him, it would almost certainly end badly for us. Not only that, but it would end badly for everyone else as well. I wasn¡¯t willing to see myself repurposed as a tool for the man.


    And I thought the man was supposed to be good with fire.


    I felt a pang of guilt at abandoning the defence of Liesse, but squashed it. The Warlock had shown that he was fully capable of managing the defence of the city on his own.


    My earlier decision to stick around was certainly a mistake.


    ¡°Then why were you engaged in conflict with the man?¡±


    ¡°He found me.¡±


    It was then that a sense of inevitable doom began to ripple through my aura. A premonition, a warning of an oncoming storm. I had the gut feeling that whatever it was originated from where the Fae were sparring, and was utterly terrifying in nature.


    The two of us both froze simultaneously.


    ¡°Everything burns,¡± a voice whispered from on high.


    It was as if the world itself held its breath. Silence fell across the battlefield, movement stopped, only the lazy trailing of smoke into the sky broke the stillness that had set in.


    ¡°Harmonize.¡±


    A third time, another merging of Arcadia and Creation. The Artist was really asking to die today. But If he also felt the same sense of dread and was trying to make an escape, I could understand his choice.


    There wasn¡¯t a single part of me that wanted to be near whatever was about to occur, either.


    I didn¡¯t have time to look around and see where we were. Acting on instinct alone, massive ruined chunks of cityscape below us vanished. A huge dome of hardened light materialized between us and the horror that I sensed was approaching. My vision began to swim. My makeshift defence was centred on me and extended fifty feet out. The sixth ghost disappeared.


    There was an almighty flash above, as bright as a dying star. The sky turned a brilliant white.


    I couldn¡¯t look, I closed my eyes. Whatever it was that Princess Sulia was calling upon had an otherworldly touch to it. As if the Gods themselves were weighing in.


    My hair started to smoulder, it felt like the very air caught light. Spots appeared in my eyes despite being shut. In mere moments, the world around me became drier than a wasteland.


    Blinking, I opened my eyes and looked up. A seemingly endless torrent of flames poured almost languidly from above. The cataclysm descended deceptively slowly. Roland and I were only on the outskirts, far away from the epicentre.


    Licking my cracked lips, I tried to wish it away. My will found no purchase.


    There was nothing I could do.


    A pit of despair sunk its claws into my chest.


    This¡­ Did nobody on Calernia understand restraint?


    I could almost taste the hopes and dreams of a city dying as the onslaught continued to fall.


    Even as far away as we were, the flames dripped like treacle, but arrived like an inexorable flood. I couldn¡¯t help it, I whimpered as I felt the edges of the conflagration make contact with my aegis. The cascading rain of molten light rolled off my shield, pooling in the city below.


    Three heartbeats later, my barrier shattered.


    This is ridiculous. We just wanted to buy a book!


    It was a poor consolation prize, but the miracle had lost most of its momentum by that point. That didn¡¯t stop the dregs of the inferno from crashing into the city below.


    Eerie flaming whirlwinds swept across the landscape. They billowed one way and then the other, letting out a shrieking cacophony that sounded much like the wail of anguished souls. Watching them was like observing professional dancers proceeding through a choreographed routine. It was a mesmerizing mirage of misery, played out for the amusement of the Gods Below.


    The heat on my face was scorching, and I could taste the ash in the air.


    Everywhere I looked, the city was broken. Up close, it was a blending of either frozen tundra or verdant jungles, and both parts were currently alight. Further away, it was just torched buildings without the Arcadian addition.


    Distantly, I could make out the figure of the Prince of Nightfall in the sky. I wasn¡¯t sure how he survived, but the effect hadn¡¯t tolled his doom. His fight with Sulia continued and much like her, there was plenty of inadvertent damage to Liesse from him as well.


    Large chunks of ice jutted out of the distant landscape, and frozen blizzards carved their way through peoples¡¯ homes. The water from the lake bubbled and spat furiously, a churning mess of sparkling light contesting Sulia¡¯s flames. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what was happening there, but I wasn¡¯t prepared to stick around and find out.


    The heavens above were a clash between a furnace and a freezer, with a rippling aurora at the intersection of the two.


    It left a bitter taste in my mouth to admit it, but this was beyond my ability to fix.


    Not only that, but if I was chained down again, I would likely do far more harm than good.


    ¡°We should make haste to depart,¡± Roland whispered.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied, my voice hoarse. Broken out of my shocked reflection, I turned my attention to the fastest exit from the flaming carcass of Liesse.


    I wanted the Artist dead, but I wasn¡¯t willing to risk containment to do it.


    The fight between the two members of the Fae Royalty continued in the sky. A rapidly progressing patch of contorted space started to climb its way towards them from below. It appeared that the Warlock had turned his attention back onto the Fae once more.


    As one last act of support for the city, I did my best to snuff the flames around me out. It wouldn¡¯t do much, but I hated to just leave.


    As we made our escape, I sloped my platforms back towards the ground. Not only do people in the sky stand out, but I was far beyond winded. Continuing to exert myself seemed unwise.


    I ducked under the smouldering remnants of an Arcadian tree that was planted on a rooftop, then pushed aside the leaves of another. Crossing over from Summer to Winter, it became easier to navigate our way back down.


    I looked over my shoulder briefly. The movement of the two Fae Royalty seemed much more contained. I wasn¡¯t sure exactly what had happened, but it felt as if there were three or four worlds folded in on each other at the location of the fight.


    For a moment, I agonized over what else I should do. There were many ways I could try to improve our chances of our escape. Finally making up my mind, I focused. The last ghost faded from behind me. An overpowering veil of secrecy enveloped the both of us. It was the strongest shroud I was capable of.


    I had no idea if it would help, but everything else had failed.


    Fleeing while hidden seemed like the smarted option.


    I looked around, suppressing the urge to pant. As soon as I could, I would need to rest. We were approaching the edge of both the Artist¡¯s melding of Creation and Arcadia and the city itself. The gates loomed ahead. Large chunks of the walls had been demolished during the onslaught, and their previously white faces were blackened with soot.


    That was when the effects of the Artist¡¯s ability faded.


    The outcome was much worse than I would have expected.


    Rather than finding myself on an ordinary street, this time I was left in the snow. I looked around. A wintry wasteland spread out on my right, with sparse evergreens dotting the landscape. Footprints marked out a meandering path leading further into the snow.


    To my left, there was a lush jungle. Verdant trees, rich soil and the sound of life clamoured for my attention that way.


    Roland was nowhere in sight.


    I looked up. Above me was a moonless sky. A bitter wind raked its cold claws through my hair. I was stuck in Arcadia.


    As far as I could tell, I was entirely alone.


    This wasn¡¯t a place I wanted to be.


    Taking a chance, I tried to form a portal, hoping to be able to break my way back to Creation. My will slammed against a force harder than iron. I had the sense that I did not have the right to shape the world in that way. Perhaps if I wasn¡¯t so drained, I could have pressed my way through, but right now I was running on fumes.


    I don¡¯t know what to do.


    Of course, that was when I felt the veil I had only just erected break under the scrutiny of Arcadia itself.


    It took me more effort than I would have liked to suppress the scream of frustration that had built up inside of me.


    What else is going to go wrong?


    Refocusing, I turned towards the footprints in the snow. I didn¡¯t know who the markings belonged to. It could be the Artist, or it could be Roland. It could also be just about anyone else. Either way, so long as it was a person, following them was my only real hope.


    Right now, I just didn¡¯t want to be alone.


    Considering I hadn¡¯t really seen the Fae doing much walking around, I was willing to bet on it being a person. They seemed to prefer flying, or riding on mounts.


    If it was Roland, we could regroup. If it was the Artist, well, I wasn¡¯t letting him get away again. Once he was dead, I could use the brush to escape. If it was someone else. Well¡­ They were just as unlucky as I was.


    I started staggering after the trail.


    It was almost nostalgic when the first painted tiger roared.


    The Artist, then.


    It jumped out at me from between frosted trees. Warily, I fumbled against the world until I succeeded in dousing it with mineral oil. Once it was gone, I continued forward. As I travelled, I was confronted by two more of the beasts. They weren¡¯t particularly threatening once you knew their weaknesses.


    It still took far more effort than it should have.


    By the time the fourth arrived, my well had run dry. I drew the dagger on my side and dodged forwards as it leaped over me. Pivoting, I jumped onto its back and hung on tightly. It started to shake from side to side in an attempt to dislodge me.


    Despite my lethargy, I clung onto it like a limpet.


    It pranced in circles and swung its head frantically, gnashing its teeth, and attempting to bite at me. It was disorienting. My head rag dolled from side to side and my breath came out in ragged snorts as I made my attempt to end the creature.


    Its attempts were ultimately futile. I wasn¡¯t willing to let go.


    Gritting my teeth, I stabbed the beast repeatedly where I guessed its painted heart would be.


    It took far more work than I would like, and I was shaking from exhaustion by the end of it, but the beast finally came to rest.


    Climbing off the now still painted corpse, I panted my way after the Artist. For a while, the erratic thumping of my heart was the only sound I could hear.


    Then, that changed.


    I began to hear the snap of branches up ahead. Shortly after, the sound of footfalls on the snow. I was drawing close. It sounded like the painter was desperate.


    Good.


    I couldn¡¯t make him out properly from between the dead foliage. The noise was enough for me to guess roughly where he was, though. It would be convenient if I could just kill him at range, but I was entirely out of steam.


    I broke out into a last ditch sprint.


    Moving forward as confidently as I could considering I felt like I had been run over by a dragon, I pushed my way through the brush. My breath fogged the air before me. I wasn¡¯t going to drag this out, or give him the chance to pull out a new trick. All of a sudden, he was right before me. He hadn¡¯t even turned around before I struck. My knife sunk into his side. Once, twice, three times.


    The Artist let out an anguished wail as I began my onslaught. A bunch of rolled up canvasses under one of his arms dropped onto the snow. I ignored them.


    Feebly, he started to turn around, but I kicked out ruthlessly at his legs, sending him sprawling to the ground.


    Distantly, I heard him whimper as he pleaded for his own life. Mentally, I was too far away to take note.


    The lassitude that had embraced me was so deep that the edges of my vision had gone dark. There was only the next task. Nothing else mattered at all.


    Crimson drops stained both my hands and clothes as I pinned him down and continued to twist the dagger home.


    A few moments later, and he let out a final, bloody gurgle. His movement came to a stop.


    Sighing, I fell back into the snow behind me.


    After everything else, the act of killing him had been almost anticlimactic.


    What¡­ Next?


    Escape¡­ I needed to¡­ Escape. Arcadia wasn¡¯t a safe place for me to stay.


    That meant I needed to do what? Find the brush. Yes. I should find the brush. The Artist would presumably have it, I just needed to search his corpse. Then, I could make an exit of my own.


    Straining, I pulled him out of the snow. I started to check his pockets, trying to find the brush. A mounting sense of dread rose after I realized the truth. It wasn¡¯t on his person. Frantically, I started to check the surroundings. I looked between the bushes and in the snow. I even backtracked, carefully going over all the places the two of us had passed during his flight.


    By that point, my eyes must have been bloodshot. I felt like a scraggly, wild animal, and almost certainly looked like one as well.


    It was over an hour later before I was forced to concede that I wouldn¡¯t find the brush, or anyone else.


    I was here alone.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how I was going to escape.


    What would a hero do?


    The Artist probably had other exits, I didn¡¯t know where they were, but I knew they must exist.


    A hero would put their trust in blind luck.


    It was an awful plan, but my thoughts came sluggishly. I wasn¡¯t willing to rest. Not in Arcadia, at least. The outcome would certainly be disastrous for me.


    That did nothing to alleviate my problems. A fog had settled over me and was weighing me down. I no longer had enough mental bandwidth to connect whatever dots existed and find my way out on my own.


    I made one more cursory check of his corpse for anything else of value, my hands shaking as I did so. Then I firmly shut my eyes and shambled around in circles until I no longer knew which direction it was that I was facing. I started to feel the gentle tug of fate, guiding me. Coming to a stop, I opened them again. Then I began to stagger my way forwards, hoping that the hand of providence led somewhere safe.


    Two hours later, and my movement had slowed to a crawl.


    I started to hear the call of a hunter¡¯s horn. Shortly after, the sound of hooves from behind me.


    Why¡­ Can¡¯t I just have¡­ Peace?


    There was only one thing it could be in the lands of Winter. The Wild Hunt.


    If I were human, there was no way I could outrun them. And definitely not in the state I was in, either. But I wasn¡¯t really a human, as much as I thought of myself as one. I also wasn¡¯t about to give in. So, despite the screaming of my muscles, I started to sprint.


    Every part of me protested. My world had already narrowed to a point, but now it narrowed even further. The sense of my body floated away from me, as if it were distant. A part of me, but not me. Only the smallest piece of the whole.


    The glaciers look so pretty.


    Despite how desolate it was, the environment was still breathtaking. My mind had long since wandered away. All that was left was the goal. The sun rose and set and rose again, and still I went on. For a while, it sounded like they were gaining on me. I didn¡¯t let up.


    My eyes began to droop. I had lost all sense of time entirely.


    Passing through dead forests, I followed the strings of fate as they guided me onwards.


    I¡¯m really burning the candle at both ends here.


    The thought made me want to laugh for some reason, so I did. My voice echoed against the otherwise empty landscape.


    Gradually, the noise of pursuit started to fade.


    I need to stop tempting fate.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if it would prevent catastrophes from happening, but enough had gone wrong that going forward I was willing to give it a try.


    Eventually, the sound of my feet crunching against the snow was all that was left that I could hear. The place I was in was uncanny. Thick banks of fog had appeared out of nowhere, clouding over the sky. Even if I could see it, time in Arcadia was fluid, and I had no way to properly measure it at all. This was what I imagined being the only person alive in the world would feel like.


    It was so very lonely.


    Saying my supplies were limited was being wildly optimistic. I had no food or water, and I was too tired to try transmuting any either. Not that it would be a good idea regardless. I didn¡¯t know what consuming parts of Arcadia would to do me, but it certainly wouldn¡¯t be good.


    I had reached the point where I was relying entirely on my inhuman biology to survive. My clothing was both burned and torn. What little coin I had was in a pouch at my side, not that it would help me, and I had my blood crusted dagger sheathed on my left leg.


    I kept trudging on.


    I don¡¯t know how long I kept walking for. Time had long since lost meaning and the world became nothing more than a blur. I couldn¡¯t go to sleep, I just wouldn¡¯t let myself. In Arcadia, it wouldn¡¯t be safe. The world had closed into one narrow corridor. Trudge, trudge, trudge. The crunch of snow underfoot, the mist before my face, it all blended together. No matter what, I would go on.


    My eyes closed.


    I hoped Roland had survived. I wasn¡¯t willing to bet on it, though. Why couldn¡¯t he have landed in Arcadia beside me? Actually, that was probably worse. He wouldn¡¯t be able to survive this place for long at all.


    That single clash with the Warlock, as brief as it had been, was enough to convince me that he was far out of our league. The bard was almost certainly a wet smear on the ground. I didn¡¯t see any way that she could have made it out alive.


    Phantoms of my past started to haunt me as I travelled. My dad. The expression on his face so very lost during the negotiations with Alexandria. His eyes, so sad, staring through his glasses. Then the moment when it dawned on him that his little girl wasn¡¯t his little girl any longer.


    The ghost faded away.


    Lisa came next.


    You never asked for help.


    Her voice called out to me, bitter, tired. As tired as I felt. Her bottle-green eyes looked on from beyond the edge of reality, judging me while I walked. She faded away next.


    My mom, Brian, Rachel, Alec, Aisha, Theo. More and more people. An endless crowd of faces parading past me.


    One by one, I watched as they watched me or said their piece, then proceeded to vanish into the void.


    Then, even their support was gone. Except for the warm embrace of the Choir of Compassion, I was alone once more.


    It was comforting, but did nothing to drive back the cold.


    The icy claws of the Arcadian Winter dug into me. My ragged breath raked erratically over my face. The scorched remnants of my hair had long since frozen into frigid clumps.


    My fingers and toes were numb. There wasn¡¯t a single part of me that wasn¡¯t tinged in frost.


    Strings dangling puzzle pieces illuminated up the path before me. I followed them blindly, not paying attention to anything else. The fragments rotated, spinning in the air. A glimpse of a way forward. A hint of what was to come.


    Don¡¯t give up.


    The embers within me flickered weakly.


    The sound of wood echoed underfoot, but I was too exhausted to take notice.


    Tired.


    I was so, so very tired.


    Almost absently, I registered the burbling of a voice. Someone was talking. Words. I think there was anger, irritation, fear and maybe a bit of concern? No matter. People meant safety, right? I could rest. Finally, I could rest. I let myself go. As I finally stopped maintaining focus, I collapsed onto the floor.


    I¡¯ll¡­ do¡­ better¡­ this¡­ time.


    I¡­ promise.


    Darkness.

 Verism 2.0x

    ¡°Heroes can always be relied upon to act in the manner which they believe will achieve the most Good. This makes them eminently controllable. You need only create larger problems than yourself, then ensure the blame falls on somebody else.¡±


    ¨C Dread Empress Malicia the First


    <hr>


    Amadeus of the Green Stretch put down the letter, face expressionless.


    Complications in the Principate were to be expected. It was only possible to string along the civil war for so long before one side or the other won. His plans accounted for that eventuality. The time that the civil war continued to buy Praes was being used to strengthen the Legions. Marshal Grem One-Eye had long since been tasked with fortifying the Red Flower Vales for the eventual confrontation with the Principate. In terms of skill, Grem was without a doubt the best military strategist on Calernia. He may have less experience than Klaus Papenheim, but the Lycaonese as a rule did not concern themselves with the politics of the lower Principate. They were too busy holding off the Chain of Hunger or the Kingdom of the Dead to bother with the happenings down south.


    Which was why news of Constance¡¯s Scar came as such an unpleasant surprise.


    Finding out that a two-mile wide city had materialized in the Principate and shortly thereafter been destroyed by the Gnomes had upended years of scheming on Malicia¡¯s part. In order to extend the conflict for as long as possible, they needed at least three major contenders. With only two major contenders, if one side ever weakened, the other could seize the opportunity and strike. With more crowns in play, each Prince would have to concern themselves with the actions of the others in the event that they tried to capitalize.


    Princess Constance had been one of those three.


    She had also been his preferred candidate as well. If she had seized control, her grasp on power would have been the most tenuous. None of the other Princes respected her. It was likely the Principate would devolve back into infighting shortly after, if she seized the reins. More importantly, she didn¡¯t have the hearts of her peasantry either. Her soldiers pillaged and burned fields, killing the common folk as they went.


    In the aftermath of her demise, the principality Aisne had turned on itself. It had become a nest of political infighting so venomous it would make even the Praesi high lords proud. With the death of their leader coming so suddenly and unexpectedly, the knives had slid out, and anyone with even a hint of a claim had risen up at the opportunity.


    Deft as she was, Malicia had adapted. She had extended offers of loans to Prince Amadis Milenan of Iserre through the Pravus Bank in support of his bid for the seat of First Prince. The man had accepted them, but Black had his concerns. Prince Amadis may be as proud as a peacock and arrogant to a fault, but he was still a shrewd manipulator. He had been deftly arranging events in the background inside the Principate. Playing off against all three of the forerunners in the race for the seat of First Prince. Prince Amadis was more dangerous than either of the others.


    Plans needed to be recalibrated to take these events into account. A war that had once seemed decades on the horizon was now possibly looming close, the heat of its breath felt on the back of the neck. Most concerning of all, the rate at which heroes were showing up within Callow had just risen from one to two a year.


    The parameters he had set could not reasonably account for intervention from the Gnomes. Whilst reading about events like the fall of Kerguel made for grim research in abstract, seeing the force that they could actually deploy made for a much more pointed lesson. Calernia was a backwater on the greater stage of Creation. That they had interfered in the Principate rather than Praes didn¡¯t make it much better.


    Whilst the massacre of Princess Constance¡¯s forces was being correctly blamed on the Gnomes, the appearance of the city was not. Teleportation on such a scale was far beyond the ability of even the most talented Praesi practitioners. Wekesa claimed it was not the action of a sorcerer at all. The resulting Keter¡¯s Due from such an event would have left most of Bayeux a desolate wasteland.


    This did not change the fact that in the eyes of the people on Calernia, the foremost experts on magic and thus the most likely culprits were the sorcerers from Praes. Blame would be placed squarely at their feet. The strategic advantage of having the ability to move objects or people on such a large scale would be considered unacceptable by all the other political entities on the continent. Claims that they did not have such an advantage would not be taken seriously. The word of the Dread Empire of Praes could not be trusted in the eyes of the heavens. That meant war was a certainty, and with possibly more than just the Principate. Praes needed to be prepared for the calling of a crusade.


    The cogs in his head slowly started to turn. Forces would need to be redeployed. The First, Third and Tenth Legion were all garrisoned at the Vales, but with the threat of a Crusade looming there was no guarantee this would be enough to stem the tide. New Legions would need time to harden before they could be deployed, which meant that old Legions would need to be moved. Still, with the threat of an oncoming war, new Legions would need to be raised.


    Something was amiss.


    It was like a grain of sand had slipped between the cogs of the machine, and Black couldn¡¯t tell where it was. There were too many unknowns. Subtle investigations by the Eyes of the Empire into the events leading up to Constance¡¯s Scar had been unable to turn anything up. The city had just appeared in the Bayeux heartland, and nobody had been able to determine why.


    There was another player who had entered the stage, and Black would find out who they were.


    <hr>


    Amadeus of the Green Stretch stood on one of the balconies at the palace in Summerholm. His green eyes scanned the horizon, watching the sun set. The latest news from the Eyes of the Empire had flagged three travelling wizards as potential villains. They were fleeing the Principate after allegedly having raised undead.


    Some of Scribe¡¯s helpers had been sent to Beaumarais to verify the story. After arriving, they had learned about the sorcerer named Roland leaving town to chase down a Praesi warlock. Careful investigation of the events rendered that explanation unlikely, and the one provided at the border fortress had been taken as the truth. It spoke to a level of shrewdness that amused Black, villains escaping persecution from the House of Light by spinning a heroic tale.


    Background checks on the other two proved to be more interesting. Maxime Redflame was noted to be a formerly retired War Wizard who had served with several Fantassin companies before settling down after the death of his family. The man had a terrible reputation and was known as both a drunkard and troublemaker. A note was placed to keep watch on him more closely. The third figure was an enigma. Taylor, allegedly from off the continent, had no information to go on at all. It was as if she had appeared out of the void. That was cause for concern.


    Out of the three, she was earmarked to be watched the closest. Someone with no visible background and no ties to anyone else was almost certainly Named. The others had an existing history. Connections to people they could possibly call friends. Taylor did not.


    The group had been given a medium priority and left for monitoring by the Eyes. At first, they continued to exercise caution, keeping their heads down. After months of doing nothing but selling their services in an entirely legal manner, they were downgraded to a lower priority. They didn¡¯t ask questions about the Calamities or try to raise trouble at all. From all outward appearances, they were proper citizens of the Empire.


    That made the most recent reports all the more unfortunate.


    Up until just recently, they had remained within the rules of the Empire, just barely skirting the edges of them. There had been attempts to integrate other villains into the current structure of Praes before, but they always chose to overreach. One of the members of the eyes had reported some unusual activity in a nameless town out in the middle of nowhere. A scuffle with a painter, which indicated they might have higher ambitions.


    She had been ordered to link up with other members of the Eyes near Hedges and find out more.


    <hr>


    Black was reviewing the latest set of reforms he had planned for the guilds in Callow when Eudokia came in.


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°There have been concerning developments near Hedges,¡± she stated. Ink stained hands placed a letter on the desk beside him.


    Reaching to his left, he picked up a bottle and silently poured a glass of wine, proffering it her way. Then, he picked up the letter and started to peruse its contents.


    Complaints had come from senior members of the eyes in the region, requesting clarification as to why they were so understaffed. Upon further investigation, it appeared they had always been understaffed. The system he had set up in Callow did not allow for a discrepancy this large to occur, without something major as the cause.


    The cogs in his mind began to turn, slowly grinding away at the problem. Hedges was near the location of one of Triumphant¡¯s Hell Eggs. More specifically, the one used to house a demon of absence. It would not normally be the first explanation he would reach towards, but in this case it seemed the most likely.


    ¡°I¡¯ll contact Wekesa and ask him to investigate the area for signs of demonic corruption.¡±


    ¡°Should I prepare the Eyes for a purge?¡±


    ¡°Possibly.¡±


    An empty glass was placed down beside him, along with another letter. Silently, Eudokia lit another candle and placed it on the desk, then left soon afterwards.


    Picking the letter up, it was pleasing to note that the potential villain that the eyes were investigating was continuing to keep her head down. The two men were no longer considered villain candidates as they both showed signs of physically ageing. Taylor, however, had been marked down as a certainty. Physically, she had remained the same since she had first entered the Empire.


    The group had passed through Callow into the Duchy of Daoine and there had been no notable negative reports from them at any step of the way. Black maintained a much more hands-off approach with dealing with Daoine, but in this case that was unlikely to be a problem. This villain hadn¡¯t upset the Empire. What she were after was unclear and would take a much more careful line of investigation to determine, but right now she wasn¡¯t considered a threat.


    There was a chance, however unlikely, that she may be able to be integrated into the Empire after all.


    <hr>


    Wekesa¡¯s investigations into the events at Hedges had proved alarming. He had confirmed that the banner was no longer present, and that an encounter with the demon had taken place on site. The largest discrepancy was the presence of what at first glance appeared to be a magical imitation of the tabula rasa effect. It was as if someone had overlapped an extraordinarily close mimicry of creation on top of it, following similar but not entirely identical rules.


    Wekesa¡¯s investigation was still ongoing to determine the exact source of the effect, but it was the other details surrounding the event which were occupying Amadeus¡¯s attention. The eyes had reported an Artist displaying unusual behaviour. The Artist was registered as having appeared intermittently at locations in the Empire separated by such vast distances that it was not physically possible for him to have travelled the intervening space in the time. Furthermore, whenever he left, there were strange deaths that occurred in the area soon afterwards.


    Direct action would be taken the next time the Artist appeared. Loosing a demon within the confines of the Empire was not behaviour that would be tolerated.


    Then there was the other isolated villain in the Empire. Taylor¡¯s name had not been determined yet, but the activities of her band had finally started to skirt the edges of the law. It was no surprise that a band of ambitious sorcerers containing a villainous Name began investigating lore on how to summon devils. It was still a disappointment.


    Taylor was both paranoid and cautious, almost to a fault. It appeared she had an Aspect similar to Scribe¡¯s Fade, she would often disappear from tracking for extended periods of time before eventually resurfacing. At first, this had been a cause for concern, and he had considered taking action. To her misfortune, there was no way for her to obtain the information she appeared to be searching for without risking engaging actively with Eyes of the Empire. It had been simple enough to slip a tracking spell onto a purchased tome that completely bypassed her protections.


    It was unfortunate, but Wekesa had informed Black that an eavesdropping spell would have proven too easy for the wizards to detect. Using an enchanted book to listen in on their conversations would have made observation substantially easier.


    The engagements that her band were observed participating in were against foes that would have been dealt with by the Legions were they on site, never against individuals of value to the Empire. Furthermore, they remained outside Callow proper and inside Daoine instead. Were any issues to arise, Black would anonymously inform the Duchy about their problem. They would eagerly solve it themselves. For now, Taylor would remain under observation.


    <hr>


    Matters within the Principate were proving to be more optimistic than Amadeus had initially expected. Despite his fears regarding Prince Amadis, another protracted draw had proceeded to develop. Malicia had proven her deftness once again, succeeding in tying up the Principate in war. Prince Dagobert of Lange had been trying to strong-arm the Lycaonese into supporting his bid for First Prince. Predictably, it was proving unsuccessful. He was currently engaged in a stalemate with Prince Fabian of Lyonis, and it seemed unlikely that progress would be made any time soon.


    Prince Amadis was trying to talk them into pretending to sign an alliance with Dagobert and then backstab him on the field of battle. Princess Aenor of Aequitan decried both, arguing that they should remain out of the conflict and stay firm in upholding their duty up north. Piece by piece, the Principate was splintering. Hatreds were becoming more and more entrenched.


    Less notably, two years on and the Principality of Aisne was still embroiled in internal conflicts. It amused Black to see them continue to connive, much like Praesi High Lords. The fact that Praes had nothing to do with it made the irony all the more sweet. If the situation there dragged on much longer, it may kill the idea of Aisne existing as a part of the Principate at all.


    This had bought him more time to prepare. A fourteenth legion was in the process of being raised. When the news of Gnomish activity had reached the High Lords, politicking in Praes had, for about the span of a day, taken the back foot. Ater was quiet while they tried to decide how best to leverage the information, and news of the outcome proved to be enlightening. Spies within Wolof had informed him the Sahelians were trying to find a method to achieve a similar scale of teleportation ritual. This served to once again reinforce his belief that all of them needed to die. The Sahelians, of course, never knew to leave well enough alone. If a new kind of demon was discovered that wiped out half of Calernia, they would try to leash it instead of exterminate it.


    That left one more outstanding problem. Cordelia Hasenbach. It had been over a year since she was first crowned Prince of Rhenia, and recently she had been trying to raise awareness about the Pravus Bank. The ongoing civil war was key to the Empire¡¯s strategy, allowing them to buy the necessary time to prepare before the inevitable Crusade. Malicia had been funding the civil war indirectly through Mercantis. The City of Bought and Sold allowed the trade of almost anything if you had the gold. Were it not for the ongoing investment of Praesi coin, the Princes of Procer would have long since ran out of the capital required to continue fielding more mercenaries in their bitter feud.


    Assassin had tried to have her killed, but her cousin, Agnes Hasenbach had at some point come into an oracular Name. Her ability to see the shape of the future had rendered all attempts made thus far unsuccessful. Efforts were being made to learn the extent of the Augur¡¯s abilities. Sooner or later a weakness would be determined, and they would be able to strike. The only question that remained was whether it would be before or after she had succeeded in bringing the war to an end. Malicia was optimistic, Amadeus was not.


    Taking into account his most pessimistic projections, Amadeus estimated he would need to agitate the Chain of Hunger within the next two to three years. It would serve to destabilize Rhenia and shift the focus of Cordelia Hasenbach away from the southern principalities, right as she would begin to involve herself with the civil war. Breaking her momentum at that pivotal moment would crush attempts to reunite the Principate for at least another year, buying Amadeus additional time to prepare.


    If nothing were done, the cries of Rhenia would be the clarion call that brought the crusade to bear. Amadeus could feel the shape of it in his bones. It had been twelve years since the Conquest of Callow. How many more years would he have, he wondered, until the hours tolled for war.


    <hr>


    Amadeus finished his final review of the up-and-coming soldiers for the fourteenth legion. Whilst the troops themselves were green, it seemed likely they would prove capable once hardened on the field. Unfortunately, it appeared there was a dearth of sufficiently talented officers to man the legion within the Empire itself. The daughter of Istrid of the Red Shields, Juniper, had potential, but she was also years away from being ready to take command. Efforts would have to be made to extend his search and possibly consider recruiting from Callowan stock. Integrating them into the Legions would further bind them to Praes, making it harder to untangle the two nations for any would be heroes down the line.


    Making his way to one of the nearby offices, he sat down and started perusing the latest reports from the Eyes. His eyebrows rose. Reports from Daoine indicated that the villainous band led by Taylor had left the confines of Daoine and re-entered Callow proper. She had kept her head below the waterline for over two years now. Amadeus considered it likely that she would remain that way, but he wouldn¡¯t settle for possibilities, only certainties.


    He would need to ask Wekesa to set an appropriate trap. Bait of some sort that would lure her out should she be inclined to overreach. It would be a pointed lesson, with a visit from Assassin at the end of it as a reminder of why she should continue to stay as she was.


    Black viewed her avoiding the trap being the more likely outcome, in which case a more direct visit was in order. He had considered it unlikely that there were any other villains who were directly compatible with their rule, but it seemed that wasn¡¯t necessarily true.

 Liminal 3.00

    ¡°When deciding to accompany a hero on their journey, think carefully about which Role you wish to take. Princesses have happy endings, mentors, and childhood friends do not.¡±


    ¨C A Stranger¡¯s Guide to Names in Calernia, Author Unknown


    <hr>


    The wind travels over a wall, past armies of maddened rats. Plains of tall grass sway from side to side. Lone trees jut out, breaking up the otherwise featureless horizon. A rustle, a crack, the sound of twigs underfoot. The wind continues over mountains and between valleys. Past desolate landscapes, long since abandoned by man. At long last, the breeze reaches its destination, whispering softly among the fallen remnants of a once great race. Ruins, jutting out from otherwise an empty hill. Tall spires that glinted like silver in the moonlight, encased in a bed of stone.


    The carcass of a once great civilization. Hundreds of mirrors spun around the silver spires, wonders of magic still functioning long past the empire¡¯s fall. Grand enchantments traced out in the shape of a city, an arcane working on such a scale that the sheer brilliance could not be truly grasped.


    I watched my body walk forward slowly.


    The place was a maze of reflections. Panes of glass, spiralling in dizzying patterns, decorating every street and thoroughfare. Then, I entered one of the buildings. It must have been important, since it looked to be located near the heart of the ruins. The interior was sparse, just a circular room with a raised platform in the middle.


    Broken fragments littered the floor.


    My body came to a stop.


    An urge came to me. A desire to find all the fragments. Find them and piece them back together. I wanted to see this monument restored. I didn¡¯t know why or how, but in doing so, I sensed I would discover something significant. Something that I needed to know.


    It was a quest.


    The vision repeated. I watched it over and over again, the path burned into my mind. Time seemed to blend. All that mattered was the journey.


    <hr>


    And then I woke up.


    I was lying on something warm and fluffy. It was the most comfortable I had felt since leaving Earth. Whatever I was on, I just seemed to float. Vaguely, I heard the echo of footfalls on a wooden floor somewhere close.


    I slowly opened my eyes.


    And then everything that had happened crashed back into me. Max¡¯s death. Fighting the Warlock. Fleeing the Warlock. Being transported to Arcadia and killing the Artist. I didn¡¯t know where I was or if Roland was still alive. I didn¡¯t know how long it had been.


    Memories of having control over my body stripped from me like layers from an onion surfaced. I had to shove down the instinctive panic it evoked.


    Don¡¯t think about that right now.


    Reaching up slowly, I felt the side of my cheeks. They were slick with tear-drops. It took me a moment to realize it, but I had touched my face using my previously missing hand.


    Right, I had that again.


    No, you can think about all of this later Taylor, first you need to find out what¡¯s going on.


    I scanned the room. Aside from a few minor pieces of decoration, it was austere. Stone brick walls, a wooden floor and green curtains on the left. The bed itself was a proper four-poster bed with a fluffy duvet that was likely stuffed with down. Wherever I was, it was somewhere important.


    Opposite the bed, there was a red haired girl dressed in a servant¡¯s livery. She was busy dusting down a porcelain vase that had been carefully balanced atop a dressing table.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± I asked, clearing my throat.


    ¡°Eeeep!¡± The girl exclaimed, jumping almost a foot off the ground. She dropped the feather duster as she did so. The vase teetered, before she caught it and carefully set it back.


    What?¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m so, so sorry I didn¡¯t mean to wake you please hold it against me Chosen I promise I was just cleaning the room,¡± she turned my way, blue eyes meeting my own as she blabbered on.


    This was¡­bizarre.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± I admitted.


    She gulped, then breathed in deeply. The girl took a moment to calm down, then bowed low.


    ¡°I apologize Chosen for disturbing your sleep, how may I assist you?¡±


    Being bowed to while lying in bed was just one part of many that was making this entire conversation feel surreal. I had known in abstract that heroes known as heroes were revered in some parts of the world. Keeping as low-key as Roland, Max and I had, that hadn¡¯t entirely sunk in.


    From what she had already said, I could infer that I was somewhere aligned with good. Probably the Principate, judging from both her language and accent. Considering she didn¡¯t talk like a stage performer, I¡¯d guess I was either in one of the northern or southern principalities.


    It also appeared that wherever I had woken up, they had somehow determined that I was a hero.


    ¡°Can you tell me where I am?¡± I repeated.


    ¡°You¡¯re in Rhenia, currently resting in one of the guest rooms on offer by her grace, Cordelia Hasenbach.¡±


    ¡°The Prince of Rhenia?¡±


    ¡°That is correct. You¡¯ve been sleeping here for a long time.¡±


    Great. I had managed to walk all the way from Liesse to Rhenia.


    That was half the length of the continent.


    I felt uneasy. I didn¡¯t know where Roland was, or if he was even still alive, or even how long I had been sleeping for. Right now, I needed time to properly collect myself.


    Pull yourself together, Taylor. You¡¯re not fine, but you can cope.


    ¡°What year is it?¡±


    ¡°Right now, it is early Summer of the year eight hundred and four,¡± the girl informed me. I could see the sweat trickling from her brow. I wasn¡¯t sure why she was so scared of me.


    That meant two years had passed since my fight.


    ¡°Where is Roland?¡±


    ¡°I apologize, I do not know who that is.¡±


    ¡°The Rogue sorcerer,¡± I clarified. A sense of foreboding took me then.


    Nervously, she repeated her denial.


    ¡°Have there been any letters left for me at all?¡±


    A third negative. The girl was now visibly distressed.


    For now, I would assume that Roland was still alive. There was nothing to substantiate that belief, but it felt¡­right. As if I would know if he were dead.


    I had come to care for him deeply over the years.


    Then the realization hit me. If he hadn¡¯t found me after two years, either he wasn¡¯t looking for me, he was in trouble in some way, or I was well hidden.


    ¡­ I swear, if he¡¯s gone gallivanting off on adventures and just left me somewhere without even sparing the time to write me a note, I am going to be so angry at him when I find him.


    I didn¡¯t know where he was, but I needed to find out. Unfortunately, with how much time had passed, he could be anywhere on the continent. Searching for him myself wouldn¡¯t be feasible, but there was nothing stopping me from asking people to help out.


    ¡°Why has Cordelia Hasenbach kept me here instead of sending me somewhere else?¡± I changed the topic.


    She looked at me oddly for a moment, as if she expected me to know the answer myself.


    ¡°Your arrival was anticipated. Why wouldn¡¯t you be housed here?¡±


    Expected how?


    That was a¡­non explanation. And it set off alarm bells. I couldn¡¯t think of a good reason for why a Prince would expect me, or just decide to keep me around.


    ¡°Forgive me, but may I inform someone of a higher station that you are awake so that they may treat with you? They would be better served to answer your questions.¡±


    ¡°Go on ahead,¡± I saw no reason to deny her.


    She made her exit swiftly, leaving the room.


    Climbing out of bed, I looked over my clothing. I was dressed in lacy lavender nightclothes. The thought of someone undressing me without my permission unsettled me. I pushed the feeling aside. Considering I had been asleep for over a year, I acknowledged that it was a necessity for whoever took care of me.


    Why they took care of me was an open question, but I expected to learn that soon.


    I ran my hands through my hair. To my surprise, it was in much better condition than I expected. I wondered if it was due to my otherworldly nature, or something else.


    I could feel the faint presence of seven ghosts hovering behind me. The price I had paid for burning through all of them was far higher than I wanted to pay again.


    Time, that was the cost of using them.


    As an imposition, it made sense. That didn¡¯t make it hurt any less. I didn¡¯t really fully understand what not ageing meant. I imagined that I would not until my first friend passed away because of old age, while I remained unchanged. Even if I lived forever, time with the people I cared about was the most valuable resource I had.


    And I had just lost over a year of it.


    Suffice to say, I wouldn¡¯t be consuming all seven ghosts again, except in the most severe of circumstances.


    That didn¡¯t mean not using them at all, it just meant being more conservative with the number of ghosts I utilized.


    Chilly air clung to my skin, and the cool of the wooden floor was uncomfortable underfoot as I searched for a change of clothes. To my annoyance, there wasn¡¯t one.


    I don¡¯t want to meet people in pyjamas!


    Unfortunately, there wasn¡¯t much in my room to transmute into something I could wear. I was tempted to go ahead with it regardless and damn the consequences, but decided against it. I could sit through a little indignity for now.


    But there was nothing preventing me from pushing back the cold. A gentle aura of warmth exuded from my skin. It likely made the air cooler for everyone else, but unlike me, they had proper clothes.


    With nothing else to do, I padded my way over to the curtains and pushed them aside. Unornamented windows were hidden behind them. I peered down at a fortress city. Steep walls and a tense atmosphere seemed to hang around the place. Even in what I guessed to be early pre-dawn, people were on high alert.


    The dream came back to me and with it, a muted urge to mend the worlds¡¯ many faults. In my mind¡¯s eye, the shattered mosaic dangled. I turned away from it.


    The dream came back to me. It was significant, I knew that. A story that was tied deeply to my Name. I didn¡¯t know why that was the case, but if I wanted to progress with my goals, then one day I would need to investigate.


    I suspected the pull came from deep within the Chain of Hunger.


    Despite having been given what seemed like a heroic quest, I did not consider it to be an urgent task. The challenge that I wanted to take on, wasn¡¯t one that I could do alone. I wasn¡¯t willing to rely entirely on a silver arrow to solve it.


    I took a moment to look over Rhenia. The place was grim. Beset by Ratling raids during the Spring, it had fought a protracted defensive war for hundreds of years. It was hard to make out the figures below in the light, but even this early, the place was a hive of activity.


    Right now, I had two immediate concerns. The first was figuring out my own circumstances. I needed to determine what Cordelia Hasenbach wanted. The second was starting to search for Roland.


    Starting work on removing villains was a distant third.


    In my mind, the first step for the third could include the second. If I wanted to change the world, I would need influence with the people who shaped it. Finding one person across an entire continent wasn¡¯t something I could expect to achieve alone, but it was something I could do with the backing of a Prince.


    Convenient how it seemed that there was one of those nearby.


    At least Cordelia didn¡¯t try to kiss me awake.


    Calernia was the type of place where that story would actually work.


    Now I just needed to work out how to earn her trust.


    I heard the clip-clop of boots against hard stone coming from outside the door.


    The door opened and admitted an armoured soldier, accompanied by a man in servant¡¯s livery.


    ¡°Good morning, Chosen,¡± the servant greeted me, bowing subserviently. He looked utterly mortified at the tear tracks marring my face.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Her Highness, Cordelia Hasenbach wishes to know the correct manner of address when speaking with you.¡±


    ¡­ What?


    ¡°Just Chosen, or Taylor I guess. My Name is Aspirant, if she means that.¡±


    Dazed, I endured an extended series of courtesies from the nauseatingly obsequious man. I was given assurances that the person who woke me wouldn¡¯t be bothering me again. After informing him that she hadn¡¯t been a bother and that it was in fact a personal matter, he handed me a robe, then directed me to follow the manservant. I put it on and followed behind.


    What were the chances I was housed in the highest room of the tallest tower as well?


    Despite not really having the faintest idea where I was, I felt safe. I was in the Principate. Somehow they had discovered that I was a hero, and that was viewed positively here. There weren¡¯t any diabolists who would try to chain me down, and I doubted that other heroes or priests would try to kill me.


    It didn¡¯t mean I was perfectly secure or that I could lower my guard entirely, but it was the safest I had been in a long time.


    For once, I could let my hair down.


    I was guided down a stairwell and into a dressing room a few corridors away. There, I was asked if I would need assistance in order to make myself presentable.


    From his choice of words, I felt like I was being called some sort of country bumpkin. It wasn¡¯t said offensively, the man was servile to a fault, but that didn¡¯t stop it from feeling demeaning. Refusing the assistance, I pushed down the indignation that rose up at the implication and reminded myself that I wasn¡¯t an aristocrat.


    Browsing what was on display, I found to my amusement that every item of clothing was marked with the emblem of a wolf. I had no intention of wearing the livery of the Lycaonese unless I was actually aligned with them. I did take a moment to clear my own face, before thinking over what I wanted to look like.


    If my appearance mattered, then it followed that I was going to be meeting someone important. The trouble was, I didn¡¯t have the right context to interpret the meanings that would be implied from different choices of clothing. The only Proceran politics I knew was what I had learned through arguing with Roland and Max. Among the rest of Calernia, the place had a reputation for being a nest of snakes. I didn¡¯t want to start off on the wrong foot, or else the vipers would bite me.


    If I wanted to play it safe, I needed to go with choices that were obvious.


    What did I know about my host? They knew I was a hero, and they had been respectful of that. That meant that playing into heroism was a safe decision here. Heroes stereotypically wore whites and golds, right? I would go with that.


    It was unlikely anything fit me properly, but I would just reshape whatever I settled on to fit regardless.


    Looking through the available choices, I started to undress, then started to put on an elegant white princess dress. The flared hemline came down to my knees, and the dress itself was decorated with more than the bare minimum in the way of adornment. There was some golden lace ornamenting the sleeves and neckline.


    ¡­ Fortunately, there weren¡¯t any crystal slippers here, I wasn¡¯t prepared to go that far. I¡¯d just suffer with some matching gloves and boots that looked made from the pelt of some white rabbit instead. The fur tickled against my ankles as I put the boots on.


    In combat, it would be completely impractical, but talking to a Prince would be an entirely different kind of fight.


    Much like everything else, the dress featured the typical Lycaonese crest. Frowning, I considered the wolf. I hadn¡¯t actually thought up a symbol for myself. As far as I knew, heroes in Calernia didn¡¯t really have much in the way of awareness of their own image. In future, it was something I might need to decide on. For now, I simply had the symbol fade away. It may not be my dress, but if the person I was meeting wanted me to put on airs, then they would have to live with that.


    Besides, I could always recreate the wolf later.


    I examined myself in the mirror.


    In spite of my scarring, the dress did look good on me. I had the appearance of the most stereotypical storybook heroine you could possibly imagine, but it was the angle I was trying to play.


    Do I airbrush myself?


    I could do it. In fact, I knew it would be easy. My mind rebelled at the thought. I liked who I was, and my scars were proof of what I had been through.


    I wasn¡¯t prepared to change myself that way just to impress a Prince.


    It meant that I would probably be viewed as either a hard labourer or soldier. Someone who wasn¡¯t properly ¡°refined,¡± but that was fine. Being underestimated would not be a bad thing. Let them think that I was hopelessly out of my depth.


    In some ways it was true, even if in others it was not.


    So I would play into the naive heroine story. Hero¡¯s stories worked here, and the more you leaned into them, the more effectively they did work. If I was going to be acting up the heroine angle, I may as well lean into all the existing clich¨¦s.


    I¡¯m going to have to practice making sappy speeches about love and the power of teamwork, aren¡¯t I?


    My heart sunk at the thought.


    Once I was done changing, I was taken to a walled in garden. I didn¡¯t recognize most of the plants and flowers. Something told me that many of them were out of season and specifically cultivated here. The floral scent was overpowering.


    In the middle of the room, a girl sat at a table. Short and slim, she wore a conservative blue dress and looked to be about seventeen to eighteen years of age. She was drinking tea out of a cup, and I noticed that hovering in the background were a series of bodyguards. At a guess, I assumed that she would be the Prince.


    Who has tea outdoors at this hour?


    ¡°Her Most Serene Highness Cordelia Hasenbach, Prince of Rhenia,¡± the functionary beside me whispered to me.


    The moment I laid my eyes upon her, I could feel the tug from my Name. The urge to mend slowly began to well up within me. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what I was supposed to fix here, but something about her was important, even if I didn¡¯t know what it was.


    This meeting was almost certainly the start of another story.


    Was it bad that my first thoughts upon seeing her was a pang of jealousy that her golden locks of hair were better taken care of than my hair was? She looked up my way, then raised an eyebrow at me. I didn¡¯t know the proper terms of address here, and there certainly would be correct ones. The people of Calernia cared deeply about their rulers.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    But¡­ did that actually matter?


    I was a heroine, and evidently she knew that I was a heroine. If I was aware of how I was supposed to engage with her, I would have, purely because it would help make a good first impression. But I didn¡¯t, and I didn¡¯t want to offend her. I was more likely to offend by failing at an incorrect greeting than by just admitting ignorance entirely.


    ¡°Your most Serene Highness,¡± I said, nodding my head slightly.


    ¡°A year and a day after all, just like the owls told her.¡± Cordelia said under her breath.


    ¡­ The what told who?


    ¡°Welcome to Rhenia, Chosen. I trust you have found our hospitality agreeable?¡±


    There was too much I didn¡¯t know here. I had been brought here when I was more or less in the dark, and I didn¡¯t know any of the rules. How she found out I had a Name and what she wanted from me were both very important questions.


    I didn¡¯t like admitting that I wanted help, but I had promised myself I would do so. If she wasn¡¯t willing to help me look for Roland, then I would go to the House of Light instead. I would be surprised if they wouldn¡¯t offer to assist a hero.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t left anything to be desired so far, but I have been asleep for a long time. I also need help to look for someone, and I don¡¯t really know what you want with me.¡± I finished bluntly.


    ¡°Do take a seat,¡± she said in Chantant, inclining her head slightly towards the opposing chair.


    To my amusement, the chair she pointed at had shorter legs. I sat. One of the servants poured me a cup of tea.


    ¡°It has been so long since I have had a good cup of tea.¡± I couldn¡¯t help myself, I sighed in contentment.


    ¡°There has been some debate among the wise regarding your nature.¡± Cordelia mused.


    ¡°My nature?¡± I couldn¡¯t help it, I tensed up as I spoke.


    ¡°When you first arrived, the local priests attempted to wake you but were met with little success. They were able to determine that you are under the auspices of Compassion, but little else.¡±


    ¡°What happened next?¡± I asked woodenly.


    I hadn¡¯t woken up caged in wards, so I wouldn¡¯t panic just yet. If Cordelia had hostile intentions for me, she wouldn¡¯t be sitting across from me at a table drinking tea. Obviously, she wasn¡¯t bothered by my origins for some reason.


    ¡°Rhenia¡¯s finest wizards were called upon next. The only additional inferences that were made, were to your otherworldly nature. Despite this, they were not able to determine what you actually are. Speculation ranged as far as claiming you are a member of a previously unknown Fae court, given the manner of your arrival.¡± the Prince explained.


    That meant they knew far more about me than I would have liked.


    ¡°What else did they discover?¡±


    ¡°There was some debate about whether you were more or less dangerous than a Fae Prince. They suggested containing you, but Agnes advised against it.¡±


    Whoever Agnes was, it sounded like I owed her. If I had woken up chained down by wards¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure what I would have tried to do.


    ¡°Which brings us to the question of what manner of address is correct for one of your station,¡± Cordelia finished.


    Oh.


    They thought I was an important figure in an otherworldly court of some kind. That¡­ Probably explained the stark terror the poor servant had been struck by. It would be funny how much I had completely misread this entire situation, were it not for the fact that now I needed to decide what to make of it.


    How do I answer this?


    I could pretend to be somebody of significance, but then I¡¯d actually have to act that way. I didn¡¯t believe for one moment I could pull that off for long. It was better for me to just remain sparse on details, but be truthful in what I do disclose.


    ¡°Where I come from, I¡¯m nobody important.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t read her expression, but something told me she didn¡¯t believe me. It didn¡¯t really matter. Right now, I was more worried about Roland. If anyone knew something about him around here, it would be her.


    ¡°Have there been any letters for me from a man named Roland? He¡¯s also known as the Rogue Sorcerer.¡±


    ¡°No attempts to communicate with you have made their way to Rhenia,¡± she denied. ¡°What is the last date that you can recall?¡±


    That¡­ wasn¡¯t good news. She could be lying to me, but I doubted it. If she had ill intentions for me, the year I had spent asleep was plenty of time to see them through.


    I hoped Roland wasn¡¯t trapped somewhere.


    Turning my attention back to her question, I considered what to say. I wasn¡¯t sure how much Cordelia knew. Being evasive would be playing it safe, but if I earned her enmity, I wasn¡¯t sure how much it would set back my long term goals. Best to give her the broad details of what happened, but not disclose too much about what I could actually do.


    ¡°It was sometime in the year thirteen-seventeen, and I was fighting with a villain called the Arcadian Artist in Liesse. Then the Warlock, the Princess of the High Noon and the Prince of Nightfall arrived. As I was making my escape, I was thrown into Arcadia. After killing the Artist, I walked for a long time. And now I have awoken here,¡± I summarized.


    ¡°That confirms you are the fourth figure at the battle in Liesse,¡± she mused.


    ¡°I was noticed?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Your efforts to contain the conflict, direct the evacuation, and modulate the city¡¯s emotions made quite the impact. There is a substantial amount of goodwill for you in Callow, you know.¡± Cordelia finished.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Were it not for you, most of the people living in Liesse would be dead. Your warning was sufficient for many to evacuate. The city is in the process of being reconstructed as a result.¡±


    I knew I should feel happy about the people I saved, but all I could think of was the sheer scale of the tragedy that had occurred. How many people had died. How an entire city had basically been written off.


    No, Taylor, focus on the positives here.


    There weren¡¯t really any.


    But¡­ I would treat the people that escaped as a positive. I would focus on the fact that I was able to make a difference, because if I only looked at the negatives, I would drown myself in misery. It likely wasn¡¯t a healthy outlook, but in a world like Calernia, it was one I would need to maintain.


    I turned my mind back to the conversation. I was about to ask why they would want to live in the aftermath of a disaster zone, when I realized what a stupid question it was. After Leviathan arrived, I hadn¡¯t left Brockton Bay. The residents of Liesse would have the same attachment to their homes.


    ¡°What¡¯s happened since then? I was in Arcadia, so I would have missed anything important.¡±


    It surprised me that she was doing as much as taking even a moment of time out of her day to talk to me. But I wouldn¡¯t pass up the opportunity.


    ¡°You have missed much, then. In the two years that have passed¡­¡±


    She continued to talk, filling in the details that I had since missed. The Artist had visited Rhenia a few years past and left a portrait tainted with blood behind as a permanent exit. It was safely stored away in a long abandoned warehouse.


    A hero called the Augur had informed Cordelia about my arrival, and people she trusted had been dispatched to collect me. The painting had since been burned and the entrance was gone.


    My escape from Arcadia was frankly ridiculous. It was the kind of utterly implausible bullshit luck that only ever happens to heroes in stories. But just because it seemed silly to me, didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t willing to rely on it as a last ditch plan.


    The war in the Principate had continued. More and more people bled, and Aisne had almost fallen apart entirely. There had been two failed uprisings in Callow since the catastrophe in Liesse. All the Princes were calling for a crusade against Praes, but none of them were willing to put aside their own ambitions and allow someone else to lead.


    One fact bothered me. I had been within Rhenia for a year. The Eyes of the Empire almost certainly knew I was here, and I¡¯d be willing to bet the Warlock knew what I was. The fact that it hadn¡¯t been used in an attempt to slander me already only meant that they had deeper schemes afoot.


    Calling me out as a demon was an easy way to see that I was killed.


    ¡°Not to be rude, but I would like to know what you want from me and if you can help me out,¡± I asked bluntly.


    ¡°In the interest of being somewhat transparent, in a few days hence Rhenia will declare for the throne of First Prince. Having the support of a heroine would help tie the House of Light to my cause.¡±


    Her face was a mask and I couldn¡¯t read it at all, but it didn¡¯t really matter here.


    I was certain there was more to it than what she had asked for. Surely there were better reasons to keep me around than the potential influence with the clergy? Her wizards had allegedly compared me to a Fae Prince, although I certainly didn¡¯t feel that strong. Maybe that was part of the motivation? Either way, I would find out what she wanted me for as the discussion dragged on.


    ¡°Have you asked other heroes before me for their support?¡±


    There was no way that she wouldn¡¯t have.


    ¡°Others among the Chosen have all been approached. They have all abjured involving themselves in the squabbling of mortal affairs,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°Why ask me then?¡±


    ¡°The Augur assured me that your assistance will prove pivotal in the coming years.¡±


    So she was approaching me on the words of an oracle, not only because I was her last option. I had also thrown away my world on the words of a prophet, so it shouldn¡¯t surprise me that someone else would do the same.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how capable this Augur was, or how much trust I should put in their words. It was better for me to find out more before I warned Cordelia off them, I didn¡¯t want to give offence.


    The question I found myself asking was why should I support her over anyone else? Actually, what I needed to know is why I should consider involving myself in the civil war at all. Before making a decision, I would need answers, and there were very few people better positioned to give me them than she was. They would likely be presented in a way to appeal to me, but unless she was offering to help me find my friend, there was no pressing reason to accept immediately.


    ¡°There is more you aren¡¯t saying,¡± I began.


    ¡°And you believe that, without knowing the finer details, you cannot accept my offer?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I agreed.


    She eyed me for a moment, saying nothing as she did.


    ¡°How much do you know about the civil war?¡± she asked eventually.


    I shrugged, ¡°About as much as anyone else who lives as a traveller on the road.¡±


    ¡°Procer has been at war for itself now for fourteen years,¡± she began. ¡°It is a war that has become increasingly bitter with time. If the conflict continues for much longer, the Principate will splinter entirely and become a series of unconnected provinces.¡±


    ¡°Are you certain of this?¡±


    ¡°Every Summer, the warring Princes field armies against each other. They do not give battle at each other homes directly. It would be considered uncouth. Instead, they burn fields and slaughter peasants, making a mockery of the oaths they claim to uphold. With each year, the hatred grows more entrenched, and soon it will reach a breaking point.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t aware of the specifics involved in funding a war. It wasn¡¯t like I had ever had to pay for one. For a brief period of time, though, I had tried to organize disaster relief in a city ravaged by Leviathan. It was a nightmare of a task. Ensuring that the right goods reached the right people was both costly and time-consuming. That was in a world with much better logistics networks. Which left me with a question I wanted to know the answer to.


    ¡°How can the Princes keep fighting like this, surely they can¡¯t afford to?¡±


    ¡°They are funded by Malicia through the Pravus bank in Mercantis.¡±


    ¡°And the Princes know this?¡± I took another sip of tea, waiting for her to respond.


    ¡°They are aware of it.¡± Cordelia was caustic in her delivery, ¡°Their enmity for each other simply trumps their willingness to stop fighting.¡±


    So the Princes of Procer were willing to take money from their alleged enemy. The enemy that they were claiming they wanted to start a crusade against. Truly, Calernia never failed to surprise me. From the sounds of things, none of them were deserving of a position of leadership at all.


    Cordelia was right. If the situation was not alleviated, the Principate probably wouldn¡¯t survive.


    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure whether its existence was necessary for my goals or not. No matter what she told me, it was unlikely I would be coming to a decision on this any time soon.


    ¡°Does it matter if they are independent provinces or a unified polity?¡± I challenged.


    She didn¡¯t look particularly pleased at the question.


    ¡°If this happens,¡± she stressed, ¡°it means that Levant will likely gobble up Orense and Segovia, and Tenerife will become one of the Free Cities. Then the Dread Empire will take Bayeux and Orne before a decade has passed.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know where she was going with this. So I kept quiet and waited for her to continue.


    ¡°If the Principate splinters, it means that the next time the Dead King rouses his armies and crosses the lakes, Rhenia will have nobody to come to us in support. It means that when the Chain of Hunger gathers might for an invasion, there is nobody to bolster our strength and push them back.¡± She finished.


    ¡°So you feel a unified Principate is necessary to drive off the larger evils.¡± I summarized.


    If the only common thread between the different principalities was a need to band together against enemies, I didn¡¯t see why they couldn¡¯t simply maintain a defensive pact instead. They acted like completely different countries. Trying to bind them together in the current system clearly wasn¡¯t working.


    Ideally, people would work together, but just forcing them together in an arrangement nobody agreed with wasn¡¯t the way to do that.


    ¡°It is,¡± she affirmed. ¡°I know that the Chosen often consider matters of state like this to be worthy of contempt. But if there isn¡¯t a unified Procer, the next time Evil rises up, Evil will win.¡±


    It was a pretty speech, but I wasn¡¯t convinced.


    ¡°And what makes you better than any of the others?¡±


    ¡°I am the only one not taking loans.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t have the deepest pockets, then how do you think you can win?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°The Augur is my cousin, she is a heroine with oracular abilities. She can sift through patterns and make sense of the future.¡±


    Well then.


    I had known that there was a prophet involved in this somehow, but not just how closely Cordelia and the oracle were entwined. It changed things, but I wasn¡¯t sure if it was for the better. I finally understood where the tugging came from. It was obvious, really. It should have occurred to me much sooner.


    ¡°¨C Calamity did strike;


    With the theft of the Owl¡±


    Haunting words came back to me. Words spoken right before I had found the Artist. Clarity. It was like being dunked in a frozen lake.


    The Bard had spoken those words. How she learned them, I did not know. I had more than a few questions for her if she was still alive. I wouldn¡¯t judge yet, maybe knowing stories was just a part of what made her a Bard. There was a chance it was just coincidence. I had relied on providence to guide me. If she was a hero, perhaps she was doing the same? It would explain why she helped me later on. It all depended on how those questions were answered, and it was a moot point if she was dead.


    But ultimately, the meaning behind the song were more important than whom sung it.


    At the back of my mind, the tune continued to play.


    ¡°And in destruction''s wake;


    Declared the beast most feared


    A contest held by man;


    That no animal cheered.¡±


    ¡°They banded together;


    And then called for a truce


    Driving terror away;


    But faith had been cut loose¡±


    ¡°For lo, the Owl hooted;


    Soon the end, it doth come


    At the hands of the man;


    But keep hope, don''t be glum¡±


    I turned my attention away from the song.


    Step by step, Creation had been walking me through my own narrative. From the painted dragon all the way to the kraken. It had a different spin on it and didn¡¯t hit all the same notes. Almost as if it were telling a heroine¡¯s version of my tale. Regardless, the truth remained the same.


    I already knew how my story ended, and that terrified me.


    ¡°Is something the matter?¡± Cordelia asked.


    ¡°Has the Augur predicted the end of the world soon?¡±


    Everyone called the people from Procer snakes. If Cordelia was to one day lead them, that would make her the biggest snake of them all. She would be Creation¡¯s stand in for Coil. Was I destined to kill her one day? How much could I trust her?


    It seemed like she already wanted me to help her secure territory. I suppressed the urge to laugh.


    ¡°Is that something to be concerned about?¡± Cordelia replied. She looked surprised at the question. It was the first time her mask had broken.


    That also meant the Augur was Creation¡¯s stand-in for Dinah Alcott. Should I ask if I could meet with the Augur for later? No, no need. If the girl was Cordelia¡¯s cousin, it was unlikely she was being mistreated. In the event that Cordelia and I worked together, sooner or later I would meet with her and I could judge then.


    Learn more before you act, Taylor.


    Creation¡¯s retelling of my story had not matched exactly. If I operated under the impression that I should expect the same chain of events, I would start making dangerous mistakes.


    ¡°This¡­sequence of events. I have seen one like it play out before. It ended badly. Really, really badly.¡±


    I thought about my story for one moment. About whether I should follow it deliberately to try to force change that way, then I dismissed the thought. No, I wasn¡¯t willing to walk the same path once more. Furthermore, forcing events of that magnitude to occur just for the weight of the narrative wouldn¡¯t be ethical at all.


    That was the road a villain would walk. A hero would look for a better one.


    ¡°To date, she has not. Inquiries will be made on the subject,¡± she said perfunctorily, as if she didn¡¯t expect it to matter. That didn¡¯t really surprise me. If someone who wasn¡¯t an oracle told me the world was about to end, I wouldn¡¯t believe them, either.


    Get a grip, Taylor.


    Shaking myself mentally, I shoved my internal panic aside. I had followed the words of a prophet once and lived to regret it. I wouldn¡¯t be following them again. While I was certain Creation had world ending threats, I suspected it wouldn¡¯t pull one out unless it were required.


    Which meant that I needed to do my best to change the nature of the story.


    The easiest way would be to just break off any relations with Cordelia. But¡­were there other options?


    No, think it through.


    Coil had been exceptional at what he did. If this was supposed to be his heroic counterpart, she would almost certainly be talented as well. But¡­ just because Cordelia Hasenbach was able to fill the role of Coil, did not make her Coil. I shouldn¡¯t treat her like Coil. That would be unfair to her.


    I would give her a chance to prove herself one way or the other.


    Could I manipulate this story? Twist it into the shape I wanted. If there was any story I could deliberately interfere with, this would be the one. This story belonged to me. Now that I had identified it, I wondered what I could do with the different elements.


    The Nine would likely come next, or something just like them. Whatever the local version of them was, I wasn¡¯t opposed to seeing them gone.


    ¡°To clarify, you want me to help you secure the Principate?¡± I brought the conversation back on track.


    ¡°That is essentially correct.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like the idea of fighting for a ruler. The idea of killing people didn¡¯t bother me. I had long since come to terms with that. But there was a difference between killing someone in self-defence or to make the world a better place, and killing people to work out who sat in a fancy chair.


    With time, I had come to regret almost everything I had done when working for Coil.


    This wasn¡¯t a fight for survival. It wasn¡¯t even a fight to determine what¡¯s right. It was purely about power and power alone.


    For me, that was the biggest hole in Cordelia¡¯s speech. She had built her argument around her impressions of a hero, she had not built it around me. In most cases, a hero¡¯s first concern was fighting against the Dead King or the next crusade against Praes. Those were important, I acknowledged as much, but to me, they were only stepping stones. They weren¡¯t the battle I was trying to fight.


    As it stood right now, if the Dead King were to disappear, there would always be another one. I wanted to make sure that he stayed gone.


    I needed to know if Cordelia Hasenbach was the right person for grander tasks. Was she capable of helping me build the landscape of the future? I needed to know if she could help me come up with the right kinds of policies to prevent the birth of new villains. All she had done is tell me why she believed she is the least wrong person to rule the Principate.


    The easiest way to find out was to simply ask her, and I intended to do so, after I had more time to think over everything else. I wanted time to process my own emotions before I gave this more thought.


    But having the option to progress my own goals through manipulating my own story was tempting. I would need someone like her for my plans to work. Regulating stories meant shaping cultures. That meant I needed to be involved with the governing of the continent at some level. If I were to spend my time running an empire, I wouldn¡¯t have time for anything else.


    I didn¡¯t want to run an empire, either.


    That meant I would need to come to know whoever I wanted for the role exceedingly well, and that person could possibly be Cordelia. So it was important for me to determine whether she was the kind of person I could trust.


    Fate seemed to think she was. After all, Rhenia was the furthest Principality I possibly could have ended up in.


    If I did decide to work with her, it would be markedly different from my relationship with Coil. I didn¡¯t know if she truly understood what I could do, but I did know that I had a lot more to offer her than I had to offer Coil. Unlike Coil, Cordelia didn¡¯t have much leverage.


    If there was to be a long term alliance here, it would be one that was far more equal.


    And the kind of relationship I would need with someone like Cordelia would have to be based on trust and a tight friendship. It couldn¡¯t be based on anything else. I was trusting someone to help me build my dream. That wasn¡¯t the kind of role you delegated to someone you didn¡¯t consider a close friend.


    ¡°I have my own problems. If I were to assist you with the civil war, would you be able to help with mine?¡±


    It was best to find out if there was any room to negotiate with her first, before I started considering the finer details. Ultimately, this wasn¡¯t even a big concession for her. I required someone with many connections to help me find Roland, but that could be anyone. I was certain the House of Light would help me out, even if she wouldn¡¯t.


    If she wasn¡¯t willing to do this much, then it was best I abandoned any idea of working with her entirely.


    ¡°That depends on the nature of what you seek assistance with,¡± Cordelia stated.


    ¡°Would you be able to help me find someone?¡± I asked. ¡°There was another hero with me at the time of my fight. The Rogue Sorcerer. I want to know where he went.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.


    ¡°What makes you certain that he is not dead.¡±


    ¡°Part of my Name.¡±


    ¡°It can be investigated,¡± she acquiesced.


    She seemed dubious at my explanation, but didn¡¯t try to contest it.


    That was a start.


    ¡°For personal reasons, I need to journey deep into the Chain of Hunger. To do so, I will need support along the way.¡± I continued to lay down my cards.


    I suspected that I could journey there alone, but I wasn¡¯t willing to risk it. The cost of being wrong wasn¡¯t worth it when there was nothing stopping me from simply finding people to help me.


    Cordelia grimaced, ¡°We are already risking too much with the people we will be pulling from the defence of Rhenia. I cannot afford to help you with this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need you to help me right now, or even any time soon. I can find others who are willing to assist me. I am simply explaining my position.¡± I stated.


    There was no harm in laying the groundwork for the journey in advance, even if I had no short term plans for setting out on the quest.


    ¡°After the civil war is brought to an end, I could possibly spare soldiers for an expedition,¡± she offered.


    There it was. She was willing to at least budge a little. Enough that I would consider entertaining her offer.


    ¡°Do you mind if I think this over? I would like some time to consider the matter first.¡±


    If I did decide to help her, my assistance would come with many strings attached. I would need to take time to define exactly what those strings were.


    ¡°This is acceptable. The guards are already aware that you have permission to enter and leave the fortress at your own discretion.¡±


    It went unsaid that there were areas I couldn¡¯t visit, but I that was to be expected.


    ¡°How will they identify me.¡±


    She gestured to an attendant behind her and muttered a few words. Moments later, they brought forward a lapel badge showing a wolf chewing on a rat.


    ¡°Put this on, it marks you as a guest.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Taking the badge, I pinned it to my dress.


    We passed a few more courtesies before I left the table. Whatever decision I made here, wouldn¡¯t be one made in haste. I would talk to the people around the keep and learn what I could about its ruler.


    What kind of woman was Cordelia Hasenbach. Could I trust her to help me build the world I wanted?


    This decision was pivotal, and was not one that I wished to regret.

 Liminal 3.01

    ¡°I spend plenty of time reflecting already, Warlock. My helmet is polished to a sheen.¡±


    ¨DDread Empress Sulphurous, the Technically Correct


    <hr>


    Leaving my meeting with Cordelia, I made my way back to the dressing room and changed into something more drab. A part of me wanted to keep wearing the outfit, but it would clash with my current goals.


    Finalizing my fashion changes, I slowly made my way out of the fortress.


    I had three objectives for the day.


    The first goal was to take time for myself to grieve.


    In the past, I had always compartmentalized, shoved my emotions aside to deal with them later. In the time I had spent reflecting on the road, I had come to realize that it wasn¡¯t healthy. It wasn¡¯t good for me, and doing so pushed me into making decisions that were more and more rash.


    So I would make the time to mourn, even if it cost me time somewhere else.


    The second was to learn more about Cordelia Hasenbach. I¡¯d talk to the residents of Rhenia and see what they thought of her. It was imperative that I learned what kind of person she was, before I chose one way or the other.


    That was why I took the time to change my outfit. I had no idea how people would interpret, ¡°girl walking around dressed like royalty,¡± but the responses I would evoke would certainly be different to looking like I fit in with the working class.


    My third goal was to start making inroads with the House of Light. I didn¡¯t know how much authority I had with them, if any, but they were the faction that I felt I would have the best chance of influencing.


    After becoming lost in the fortress more than once, I asked a servant to guide me out. The place was like a maze on the inside. I made my way through the building onto the cobbled roads outside.


    I looked around, taking in the city outside. The sun had not yet risen, and yet the residents were active, carrying out their duties by the light of lit torches.


    Rhenia felt grim. As if it was perpetually teetering on a knife¡¯s edge, expecting to unbalance and fall one way or the other. The people had an air of weary anticipation about them. They walked firm of purpose, with shoulders hunched and fists balled. It was as if they had been conditioned to expect a fight around every corner.


    Considering the Chain of Hunger loomed near, that wasn¡¯t entirely inaccurate.


    I made my way towards the southern outskirts of the city. There was a small grove of trees that clung to the edge of life. Searching, I found an otherwise unremarkable boulder sitting all alone in their shadow.


    It was perfect for what I wanted.


    Concentrating, I began to change its shape. It took me a few minutes before I was satisfied. Not because the changes I was making were hard, but because it took me a while to make up my mind.


    The finished product was a rectangular slab with an empty flask resting on its side atop it. The flask was made out of quartz and was fused into the stone, so it wasn¡¯t like anyone would be walking off with it. It was a cenotaph for Max. I didn¡¯t know how old he was. He never told us, and it didn¡¯t really matter.


    Maxime Redflame.


    He gave us purpose.


    I could have made something elaborate, but I felt this suited him better.


    ¡°Hey, Max,¡± I began softly. ¡°When I first met you, I did everything I could to avoid you. You were rough, crass, drunk and generally unpleasant to be around. But you were also the only person who saw me as me.¡±


    I felt tears begin to well at the edges of my eyes. I did nothing to suppress them. Compassion draped itself gently around me, but I wasn¡¯t paying it much notice.


    ¡°You saw an aimless, depressed, lonely girl and tried to put life back into her. And you did it. It took you a long, long time, but you did it. Despite all your faults ¨D and there were many ¨D you were a good person. Someone I came to care about far more than I ever expected.¡±


    Sniffing, I took a moment to compose myself.


    ¡°I feel bad, because I wasn¡¯t able to help you overcome your own loss,¡± I said, my voice hoarse. ¡°When I arrived, I had no faith and no hope. Now, I definitely have hope and for you¡­ I think I can find faith. Faith that the world can become better, because I didn¡¯t think I could. So I guess what I want to say is thank you, and that I promise I won¡¯t let you down.¡±


    The chatter of insects had died as I talked. The world was still, almost as if it was holding its breath.


    ¡°I already disappointed one dad, I don¡¯t want to disappoint another.¡±


    I felt better for having said it aloud. One of my regrets was never patching things up with my dad. Max wasn¡¯t him, but at least I didn¡¯t have that regret.


    I sat there silently for over an hour, pondering if I should say anything else. I decided against it.


    Eventually, I stood up. A sparrow landed on the lip of the flask as I turned and left.


    The sun had risen by the time I arrived back at the fortress city. I started to slowly wander down the streets. I found myself gravitating first towards a shabby looking tavern on my left. Despite the time, I could hear the loud bickering of voices coming from inside. People really did drink at all hours, didn¡¯t they? Not that I should really expect otherwise, considering my own adventures with alcohol.


    I repressed a shudder.


    Approaching the door, I entered the building.


    I spent a moment just appreciating what it was like to be able to walk into a building without asking for an invitation. It was striking how something so mundane could feel novel after all this time.


    ¡°Is something the matter, lass?¡± A kindly looking elderly lady asked me, the wrinkles on her face creasing as she did so.


    My reverie was broken.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine. Just needed a moment to reflect,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Well, you just call if you have a problem, see?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do that,¡± I smiled her way, thankfully.


    I took a moment to survey the room. Up near the bartender was a small group of what I guessed were travelling merchants. They were seated together and talking amiably.


    Perfect.


    If there was going to be anyone I could obtain an outside opinion on Cordelia from, it would be people who weren¡¯t locals. The opinions of the locals arguably mattered more, but I wanted to cast my net as wide as possible and not just settle for the first fish I caught.


    I made my way over and sat down beside them.


    ¡°¨D so, as I was saying, the route between Callow and Bayeux is especially profitable right now,¡± a blonde haired weasel of a man in his early thirties called out.


    ¡°That¡¯s only because caravans passing near Constance¡¯s Scar keep disappearing. It¡¯s not worth the extra risk,¡± the dark haired girl sitting next to him replied.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I butted in, ¡°My name¡¯s Taylor. The three of you look like travellers on the road. I¡¯m interested in a bit of gossip from outside Rhenia. Care to trade stories?¡±


    They turned to look at me.


    ¡°The name¡¯s Jacqueline,¡± the girl replied, turning her steel grey gaze my way. ¡°You don¡¯t sound like you¡¯re from Rhenia either. What¡¯s a foreign girl like you doing up here?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a long story,¡± I evaded.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it is,¡± she sounded amused. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you know about the goings-on from outside, not being local yourself?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been stuck here for over a year. Hadn¡¯t had much in the way of outside news.¡±


    ¡°Tough,¡± the third figure said in a deep, earthy voice.


    I turned his way. He was broad shouldered and tall. I felt small seated beside him. His brown eyes roamed over me, examining me closely. Although it wasn¡¯t in a way that felt offensive, his focus seemed to linger more on scars than anything else.


    ¡°How about this, Taylor. You help settle our little argument here, and we¡¯ll answer your questions,¡± Jacqueline took a sip from a tankard as she finished speaking.


    ¡°Sure. What are you arguing about?¡±


    ¡°Money,¡± she grinned. ¡°Ever since the Gnomes bombed Princess Constance, travel in the region between Aisne and Bayeux has been dangerous. Entire convoys disappear during the night, and people claim to see strange visions out of the corners of their eyes. Anyone daring to haul goods through the area makes a killing for it, provided they live. I reckon we should give it a skip, but the other two are feeling more adventurous.¡±


    Faintly, I could feel the tugging of a story as they spoke. Surprisingly, it didn¡¯t seem to be a story involving me. I wasn¡¯t new to stories involving others rather than myself. It had been common enough when travelling with Roland.


    This was the first time I had seen an unfolding story where I had no idea who any of the players involved were. It wasn¡¯t even involving the people I was talking to. It shouldn¡¯t have surprised me that it was possible to find an ongoing story without having any ties to it at all, but somehow it did.


    ¡°I¡¯d leave it. Money isn¡¯t going to buy you your life back.¡±


    ¡°See guys, I knew she¡¯d be sensible,¡± Jaqueline teeth showed as she smiled broadly. ¡°Us girls need to stick together, right?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°With scars like those, I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not eager for blood,¡± the third figure said, his hazel eyes meeting my own.


    I shrugged.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t fight because I li-.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re here, you¡¯re paying. Either buy something or get out,¡± a pot-bellied man interjected, glaring my way.


    I¡­hadn¡¯t thought to carry any money with. This would be significantly less awkward if my trousers had any pockets. As it stood, I had no way to hide the act of transmutation. It wouldn¡¯t be much of an issue to go out and resolve the problem, but it was still annoying.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back shortly, I don¡¯t have any money on me,¡± I said, starting to stand up.


    ¡°No, stay. Rupert will cover for you. Won¡¯t you, Rupe?¡± Jacqueline turned towards the broad shouldered man, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Fine. Owner¡¯s an ass, but we¡¯ren¡¯t. What¡¯ll you have?¡±


    ¡°Just some milk. I swore off anything stronger.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like there¡¯s a story there,¡± the woman stated.


    The owner muttered something under his breath, before bringing me the drink in a mug. Taking a sip, I suppressed a grimace. The milk was sour.


    ¡°There is, but it¡¯s not one I want to talk about right now. To bring the conversation back to where we started, I¡¯m curious what people outside Rhenia say about Cordelia Hasenbach.¡±


    ¡°Wantin¡¯ ta gossip on the Prince? Well, can¡¯t say I blame you, but there ain¡¯t much ta tell. Folk on the road¡¯ll let you know that she¡¯s good at keeping the wheels greased. She¡¯s been runnin¡¯ the place from her thirteenth summer. She¡¯s done a good job of it as well. Folks are happy. If you want ta know about her politics, well¡­ None of us pay much attention ta that sort of news.¡± Rupert finished.


    It wasn¡¯t as much as I wanted to know, but it was a start. I didn¡¯t expect to find out enough from only a single conversation anyway.


    We talked a little longer before I eventually made to leave. I spent some time wandering around, talking to everyone I could. While I was able to learn little about her as a person, one detail had been firmly lodged in my mind. Much as I expected, Cordelia Hasenbach was an excellent administrator. In addition to that, her people liked her, despite the fact that she wasn¡¯t a warrior Prince.


    Considering she ruled Rhenia, that was an achievement. Their people placed value in strength of arms, simply because come spring each year they needed to contest with the Ratling hordes. Earning their respect, despite not fighting on the front herself, spoke volumes about how capable she was.


    Making my way purposefully down the streets of Rhenia, I soon found myself outside a chapel representing the local House of Light. Despite knowing the Gods were real, I had only ever set foot in one shortly after I first arrived.


    Back when I asked someone to show me the Light.


    I smiled fondly at the memory as I stepped through the door. There were rows of empty pews inside. The place was peaceful.


    Nobody was in.


    I supposed it wasn¡¯t the time for worship, but that was fine.


    I felt a stronger connection to Compassion on the inside. It was almost as if they were right here with me, with just a paper thin wall between us as a divider. Something about them felt different after so long. It was hard to define, and at first I wasn¡¯t sure what it was exactly. I almost tripped and fell when I realized what it was.


    It was an invitation.


    I had known in abstract that simply swearing yourself to a Choir wouldn¡¯t be enough to become their chosen hero. If that was the case, then there would be far more heroes. Each Choir obviously had their own requirements for their favoured representatives. This was them implicitly stating that not only did I meet most of their requirements, they believed if I swore to follow all of them, I would be able to stick to the oath.


    ¡­ And that even if I had not yet decided to follow them, they had chosen me. In a way, it was more meaningful, but also more scary. It was them placing their faith in me and not the other way around. It didn¡¯t change anything unless I actually went through with it, but it was an added complication. Now, I needed to worry about how what I did would reflect on the Choir, because people would assume that I represented them. They would also technically be correct.


    I wouldn¡¯t be accepting the invitation, but it hadn¡¯t been revoked. It was still there, waiting for me in case I ever changed my mind. Unless I changed for the worse, or they found someone else, it would likely remain there for a long time.


    Taking a seat on one of the benches to the right, I elected to wait. It was a wooden log that had been turned on its side and had barely been carved into the semblance of a seat at all. As far as chairs went, it wasn¡¯t the most comfortable. Subtly, I reshaped it. I wasn¡¯t sure if it counted as blasphemy to make the seating in the house of light less painful to sit on, but I doubted the Gods Above minded.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    It felt like hours had passed before someone else showed up.


    ¡°Do you seek guidance with a matter of faith, my friend?¡± a woman¡¯s voice reverberated gently against the walls.


    I almost responded by reflex that I wasn¡¯t religious, when I remembered to hold my tongue. It would be an easy way to start off on the wrong foot, and it was much easier to just avoid the topic entirely.


    ¡­ Besides, it wasn¡¯t completely true. I didn¡¯t worship the Gods Above right now, but live long enough and one day I probably would. I wasn¡¯t opposed to the ideals presented by the Gods Above. It was their definition of guidance I found fault with.


    I didn¡¯t disagree with the idea that people needed to be guided. In fact, I strongly agreed with it. Everyone needed assistance sometimes, me included. Without the help of Roland and Max, I probably wouldn¡¯t have come back to myself. I just didn¡¯t believe that guidance necessitated the removal of free will.


    The type of world I was trying to make likely required the presence of Gods I was willing to worship, otherwise it would fall apart. It meant that I needed to convince them to change their minds. To persuade them to adopt a different definition of guidance, and to leave my vision of the world alone once I had put it in place. I knew it wasn¡¯t impossible to do that, even if it wouldn¡¯t be easy.


    The definition of Good shifted on the subject of slavery, after all. It didn¡¯t really matter if it was a hero or a villain who did the shifting, because the truth remained the same. The definitions were allowed to drift.


    I had no idea what it would take to convince them, it was more or less the final stage of achieving my dream. So long as I didn¡¯t find it morally reprehensible, I was willing to go through with it. Even if it was something absurd, like a thousand years of praying to the Gods Above in order to change their minds. Being the most persistent spam caller in Creation wouldn¡¯t be fun, but I¡¯d suffer through it if that was the price.


    Not aiming low at all, are you, Taylor?


    ¡°Not the type of problem you would usually be faced with,¡± I replied wryly, turning her way.


    She wore a simple robe and was about my height and age, with fair hair kept in a thick braid.


    She sat beside me on the bench, folding her arms on her lap.


    ¡°Then I will strive to answer to the best of my abilities.¡±


    ¡°I want to know who all the movers and shakers in the church are and what I¡¯d need to do to contact them.¡±


    ¡°Planning to involve yourself in politics?¡± The hint of a bemused smile graced her lips.


    ¡°Someday,¡± I shrugged. ¡°For now, I just want some idea of what the people at the top believe needs to happen for the world to change.¡±


    She looked over me carefully, her gaze hardening as she did so.


    ¡°I hope you are not trying to solve all the world¡¯s difficulties with swords. That way only leads to swords finding you in turn.¡±


    She sounded almost as if she was trying to fit a sermon into her speech. It was mildly amusing.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. Some problems can be killed, but most of the ones that I am interested in solving can¡¯t be.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.


    ¡°What is it exactly that you are trying to do.¡±


    ¡°I come from a land far off. We had different customs and beliefs. On the whole, people¡¯s lives were much better than they are here. The Principate would be considered dysfunctional, never mind Praes.¡± I stopped.


    The sister¡¯s eyes widened.


    ¡°You are the Chosen I was called to look at. The one that was asleep,¡± she stated, her entire demeanour shifting. It was fascinating to watch, as if she had transformed from one person to another.


    I should have realized she would have seen me before.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°What is the biggest difference about Calernia and your home?¡± she asked, sounding intrigued.


    ¡°The stories we had were different. What I want is to know who I should talk to about trying to kill Calernia¡¯s villain stories.¡±


    It was the simplest way to explain what I wanted.


    I knew that what I was trying to do was impossible. In a much closer to the literal, than the figurative sense of the word. What I wanted was a world where there are no villains because people are happy with the existing state of affairs. A world where villain stories just won¡¯t work. If I had just one lifetime to do it, I¡¯d aim lower. But that was the catch, wasn¡¯t it? I wasn¡¯t ageing, and eternity is a long, long time. I had plenty of time to figure this out.


    It didn¡¯t mean I could act slowly, or spend forever on minute details. If I didn¡¯t make a big enough impact, the narrative would just undo itself. But it meant that every time I failed, I still had time to try again. Most people didn¡¯t have that luxury.


    I definitely wasn¡¯t sure about all the right steps to reach my destination, but knew some right and some wrong ones. I wouldn¡¯t be happy with just controlling everyone and taking away their choices. Either with magic, or through tyrannical government oversight. I knew that to bring the world to where I wanted it to be would take many gradual, small changes. Stories are cultural. If I wanted to change them, I¡¯d need to slowly shift entire cultures.


    ¡°For one chosen by Compassion, it surprises me that you would resort to violence,¡± she chided.


    I was about to tell her I wasn¡¯t sworn to Compassion when I felt a gentle nudge.


    Right.


    I was still representing them, even if I wasn¡¯t sworn to them.


    ¡°Killing stories doesn¡¯t mean killing people. It¡¯s about¡­ preventing the circumstances that cause them to happen.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t opposed to violence where it was the only answer. You can¡¯t negotiate with a hurricane, and the same is true with many of the villains in Creation, or tragedies like the Chain of Hunger. Creatures there were compelled to keep eating all the time, and would resort to cannibalism if there wasn¡¯t another available source of food.


    ¡°You would take on all the world¡¯s ills then,¡± she mused.


    ¡°Not even that. I spent the last two years in Callow,¡± my gaze hardened. ¡°The Black Knight is not a stupid man. He is approaching the same issue, but from the opposite side of the table. He builds orphanages so he can keep watch over the orphans. I bet that he kills any children that have heroic tendencies. He isn¡¯t trying to just kill heroes, he''s trying to stop them from happening at all.¡±


    ¡°So you would take the same approach then as the monster who burned down the Blessed Isles. Careful that you stray down that path, for using Evil to war against Evil does not result in Good.¡±


    ¡°Copying his methods wouldn¡¯t work, Good and Evil¡¯s stories aren¡¯t the same,¡± I agreed. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean that Good couldn¡¯t use different methods to achieve the same ends. We aren¡¯t trying to replicate the method, we¡¯re trying to replicate the Good version of the same outcome.¡±


    ¡°The children of Compassion are ever the saddest of us. They see the world as it should be and not as it is. I hope that you live to see the world that you dream of,¡± she replied diplomatically.


    What went unsaid is that she believed I wouldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°The clergy in Salia have the kind of influence you need. I can draft a letter of introduction for you, and pass on your thoughts. But until the Principate stops warring with itself, it is unlikely you will be able to enact the kind of change that you seek.¡±


    It was disappointing, but also expected. It also gave me more incentive to try to find an acceptable solution to the civil war.


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you did so,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Is there anything else you need help with?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for a friend, another hero. The two of us were separated at Liesse. I want to know what happened to them.¡±


    That line of inquiry proved to be more promising. After I provided her with details on Roland, the two of us spoke for a little longer. Before I left, she asked if I would join her in prayer. I did. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was blasphemous or not, given that I didn¡¯t have faith. But after some thought, I decided I may as well get a head start on my thousand years of complaining. It didn¡¯t take much time out of my day, and if it actually paid off, it was worth the cost.


    <hr>


    I spent another three days alternating between resting, composing my thoughts and talking to people before I was finally ready to speak to Cordelia Hasenbach once more.


    In that time, I had begun to form an opinion on her as a leader. She was a far better ruler than I would ever be. I wasn¡¯t sure how far I was willing to support her until I understood her as a person, but I was not opposed to her being positioned as First Prince on the grounds of merit alone.


    More importantly, I understood the role she filled. Not only was she younger than Coil, she was also younger than me.


    Her opinions on what was right wouldn¡¯t be set in stone yet, and despite living in an arguably worse world, she had almost certainly had an easier life. It was wrong to call her sheltered but¡­ I felt I could influence her view of the world. If I felt she wasn¡¯t a good enough person, I could be her moral compass.


    Something is wrong with the world if I feel like I can be someone¡¯s moral compass.


    There was a part of me that felt I should take the time to assess all the leaders in the Principate before I chose to side with one of them. It was the safe choice, the smart choice. Then there was the part of me that was squinting at the story I was in. The tale that strongly hinted at Cordelia.


    I had decided to try to shape this story.


    That meant extending some trust to Cordelia.


    What little I had seen of her had shown me that Cordelia was an industrious girl and was never not in the process of doing something. Finding time for a meeting with her was difficult as a result. I hunted her down during her early morning walks on the city ramparts and matched my pace to hers.


    ¡°Have you come to a decision on the matter of the civil war?¡± She asked.


    There was a light rain falling down from above. Barely a drizzle, but it still made it just a little harder for me to see. I could have pushed it away, but I chose not to.


    Keeping in contact with little inconveniences like this were a way of reminding myself that I wanted to still be human at the end of my journey.


    ¡°Before I make up my mind, I want to know more about you. What do you want?¡±


    She paused in her walking, then turned to me, examining me closely.


    ¡°You wish to understand my motives?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± I looked over the ramparts at the mountains in the distance. ¡°The speech you gave was compelling, and if you gave it to any other hero, you would have won them over. But that isn¡¯t what I care about. I care about building the future. What do you see the Principate looking like once you are in control? What do you believe in, and what do you want?¡±


    She looked amused at the question. There were more than a few heartbeats of silence before she decided to respond.


    ¡°It is my desire for the people of the Principate to be safe. For our walls to be secure against the Evils to the north and the east. I want idiots like Prince Dagobert of Lange and Aenor of Aequitan to stop drowning Procer in blood. I do not wish to rule the Principate for my own sake. There is not a single individual among the other Princes prepared to do their duty to their people, and so I will.¡±


    Cordelia¡¯s voice was venomous by the time she finished speaking, I could hear the anger in what she said. It might be a mask, a carefully crafted lie to buy my allegiance. I didn¡¯t think that was the case. In my mind, it was the first declaration she had made that wasn¡¯t carefully hidden behind at least five layers of doublespeak.


    More tellingly, I felt the faintest strings of a story tie themselves around her at her declaration.


    ¡°And what will you do once you are in charge?¡±


    ¡°The Principate will need to undergo several financial reforms in order to recover from the damage that has accrued over the past fourteen years. The influence of the Pravus Bank must be excised at the roots. I intend to found an order of sorcerers, in an effort to dismantle Praes¡¯s magical supremacy. With sufficient leverage, I intend to repeal the Right of Iron, in an effort to prevent farces like this as well as other historical follies from occurring again.¡±


    ¡°The Right of Iron?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t familiar with the term.


    ¡°It¡¯s the prerogative by which the princes of Procer can wage war as they wish. Were it revoked, princes would require some manner of justification in order to declare war.¡±


    I had not yet spent enough time with Cordelia to form a solid opinion on her, but I was gaining the impression that she was a reformist of sorts. She wanted change. I did not understand the finer details of the changes she wanted, but I grasped enough to know we at least had some common ground.


    ¡°I¡¯m willing to hear your offer,¡± I stated, ¡°but my acceptance depends on what you want me to do.¡±


    Provided she didn¡¯t want me to go against my own principles, there was enough room here for us to negotiate. As time passed, I could pick her brain on the problems I wanted to be solved and see how she would handle them.


    Even if it turned out she wasn¡¯t the person I needed, she was certainly smart enough to help turn my ideas into concrete plans.


    Cordelia started walking again, I followed slowly behind her.


    ¡°You would be better positioned to answer that. Aside from the confrontation with the Warlock, nobody is entirely sure what you can do.¡±


    ¡°What do you think I can do?¡±


    ¡°Admittedly, we do not have much to go on aside from hearsay from Liesse and the words of wizards. Klaus Papenheim has suggested treating you as an exceptionally skilled sorcerer.¡±


    After all this time, the stereotype that I was a wizard had failed to leave me. It was almost nostalgic.


    The question was, how much did I want to say. I felt a gentle but insistent tugging from my name.


    Trust people.


    It¡­made sense to trust her. It was good to be cautious, paranoid even, but I would bet my enemies knew more about what I could do than I did. If I wanted to beat them, then I would need properly informed allies.


    ¡°Almost anything you can think of,¡± I told her honestly.


    She said nothing for a moment, but I got the sense she didn¡¯t quite believe what I said.


    ¡°I can reshape everything I¡¯ve encountered so far into objects I am familiar enough with. I can¡¯t generate materials out of nothing and I can¡¯t make myself smarter, but I can do anything else. If I wanted to, I could probably end any monopolies on goods within Procer on my own. It would take me a while, but I could do it.¡± I explained.


    Cordelia didn¡¯t look like she believed it, but she didn¡¯t question what I said.


    ¡°Then the question becomes more about what you are willing to do. The priest that inspected you claimed that you have the touch of Compassion upon you. Does that mean that you are unwilling to kill?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no. I¡¯m not going to kill anyone you want without proper justification, and I¡¯m not willing to massacre entire armies. But if I come face to face with someone who needs to die, I¡¯m not going to hesitate.¡±


    ¡°Killing every last soldier to a man would not be an acceptable outcome were you to do it. Doing so would see me denounced as a tyrant, and that is not an acceptable form of rule.¡±


    While it was good to know she didn¡¯t want to just use me as a siege weapon, it didn¡¯t tell me exactly what she did want.


    The sounds of soldiers going through morning drills below distracted me for a moment, leading to a lull in our talks.


    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The specifics of this discussion should be tabled until later. I was scheduled to meet with my uncle after I had completed my rounds of the walls, and finished reading my letters. This discussion can be put off until then. Klaus Papenheim¡¯s advice on the matter will prove invaluable.¡±


    ¡°Could you give me an example?¡±


    ¡°Would you be willing to assist the army in a supporting capacity?¡±


    ¡°So¡­logistics then?¡± I hazarded.


    ¡°Defensive workings such as the barriers you deployed over Liesse or even motivating allies and demotivating enemies would provide a significant military advantage. Until my position is solidified, it is my primary interest to see you involved with the army for now in some manner or another. Having you do so would help to court the attention of the House of Light in a similar capacity.¡±


    I felt like she still didn¡¯t quite grasp what I could do for her, but that was the smaller issue and I could correct it later. In all of this, I still didn¡¯t understand what she wanted out of that alliance.


    ¡°Why do you want their help?¡±


    ¡°Their assistance will be pivotal for restructuring the Principate in the years following the end of the war. It would also be of great benefit if you were prepared to negotiate with the clergy directly, once you have been properly schooled on the correct procedures.¡±


    That¡­ was a non answer.


    ¡°What other duties do you want from me?¡±


    ¡°As mentioned before, it is my intention to found an order of wizards in the aftermath of the civil war. The assistance of someone such as yourself in establishing such a centre of learning would be invaluable.¡±


    Right¡­ This misconception about my role as a wizard was actively unhelpful now.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a sorcerer,¡± I stated bluntly. ¡°Think of me as being closer to one of the Fae, only aligned with Above. I have learned some magical theory, so I can teach it. But you would be better served by finding actual teachers for that.¡±


    I wondered how much I should trust her with. Being sealed in wards again scared me. But if I trusted Cordelia enough to allow that, and she proved worthy of the trust, we could perform controlled experiments.


    Deliberately allow wizards that I trusted to seal me off, then see if I could find a way out.


    The idea left me feeling uncomfortable.


    But if I ever fought the Warlock again, I would need to prepare.


    ¡°It is expected that you are not a magical practitioner,¡± her lips twitched upwards for a moment, before the mask went back down. ¡°Every wizard who was permitted to examine you during your convalescence exhibited a great deal of interest in working alongside you. It is my wish to harness that interest.¡±


    That¡­ was worded politely, but sounded to me like a veiled way of saying people wanted to examine me like some sort of exotic creature. I wasn¡¯t going to call her out about it, but the idea of being looked at under a microscope wasn¡¯t very appealing.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    ¡°Then, for now, simply assistance with ending the civil war.¡±


    It made me uneasy how everything she planned involving me was intended to play out so far ahead. It meant that I couldn¡¯t put together a good picture of what she wanted with only the pieces I had. I had enough of an idea to know that we at least sat on the same side of the board, but that was about it. For now, my guess was that she wanted to pull together many factions and work on social reforms. I wasn¡¯t necessarily against anything she had proposed, so I was willing to consider her offer.


    ¡°I have three main goals at the moment. Short term, medium term, long term. In the short term, I want to find out what happened to my friend. In the medium term, I want help arranging a journey into the Chain of Hunger. The hardest goal is the long term one. I want to make the world a place with no villains. If you are willing to help with the first two, and at least make inroads on the third, then we can discuss terms. I don¡¯t expect the third problem to be solved immediately, but I want to at least see some progress made. I¡¯m also not willing to go against my conscience. So long as you don¡¯t ask me to, we have room to negotiate.¡±


    ¡°Then let us continue this discussion indoors later, with the added input of Klaus.¡±


    I followed behind her as she finished her walks, then waited while she perused her letters. Afterwards, we headed indoors. If I had known exactly what I was involving myself in when it came to scheming with Cordelia, I may have chosen to run away instead.

 Liminal 3.02

    ¡°Perspective is to view the world through tinted glass. Power is to call up a demon and make it that way.¡±


    ¨C Dread Emperor Sorcerous


    <hr>


    ¡°So you¡¯re the girl that¡¯s throwing in her lot with us,¡± a gruff voice said as someone entered the room.


    I turned towards the polished wooden double door and took in the sight of our new arrival. It was an older man, with white hair and a hard face. His clothing was damp from the rain. Focusing, I cleaned and dried them. It wasn¡¯t much effort, and I imagined that Cordelia would not want her expensive chairs ruined by the man¡¯s damp rear.


    ¡°Undecided. It depends on what you want from me, Sir¡­¡± I raised an eyebrow inquisitively.


    ¡°Klaus Papenheim,¡± he replied.


    The clipping of his boots against the cold stone floor were the only sounds to reverberate throughout the room as he made his way to the third chair around the table we were seated at. They were arranged in a triangle, with Cordelia¡¯s back to the fireplace, mine to the windows and Klaus¡¯s to the door.


    ¡°I¡¯ve explained what I want. I just don¡¯t know what you want in return.¡±


    ¡°Repeat your requirements to us once more before we delve into the intricacies of your future contributions to the civil war,¡± Cordelia asked.


    A noise frown outside the window distracted me for a moment. Turning, I briefly saw a blonde haired figure through the misted window. She was wearing a blue dress, and wandering around the garden in the rain. I brought my attention back to the discussion.


    ¡°You want me to explain those again?¡± I confirmed.


    ¡°It is best that we confirm our purposes are aligned.¡±


    Fair enough.


    ¡°My first and second goals are to find the Rogue Sorcerer and travel into the Chain of Hunger.¡±


    ¡°Investigation into the fate of the Rogue Sorcerer has already begun. The matter of the Chain of Hunger shall be tabled until after the civil war concludes.¡±


    As nice as the assurance was, I wouldn¡¯t just take it at face value. I had done that song and dance with Coil before and while it might be unfair to compare Cordelia with him, I would be a fool to make the same mistake twice.


    ¡°I want to be able to read the reports.¡±


    ¡°They will be made available to you. You have yet to clarify the nature of your third request. You intend to prevent the formation of villains?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°Explain the steps you would take to achieve this.¡±


    ¡°I already told you what I wanted.¡±


    ¡°What you have outlined is not a plan, it is a desired result.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d need to spend time researching first. Build up a better idea of what I want.¡±


    ¡°I wish for you to try regardless.¡±


    I frowned, ¡°it''s complicated. Do we need to cover it right now?¡±


    ¡°If you desire for my assistance, it is imperative that you provide me with a foundation to build upon.¡±


    I felt exasperated. She wanted me to provide some sort of plan for a goal that I had only just decided on. I was about to refuse again, when I felt innovate start to whisper to me, providing suggestions.


    Start with the first step, Taylor.


    The suggestions probably weren¡¯t good. The quality of suggestions offered was based on how much I already knew. It was still a starting point. Cordelia wanted some idea of what I wanted? Fine, I¡¯d give voice to what innovate told me.


    Biting my bottom lip, I took a moment to compose my thoughts. ¡°Villains exist because people are unhappy. The same is true for heroes, but the reaction is different. For villains, what happens is they see the unfairness in the world, and they decide why not spread it out. For example, a poor man living next to the homes of the rich. He doesn¡¯t see any way to end his own suffering, so he asks himself, ¡®why should I suffer when they don¡¯t?¡¯¡±


    I paused for a moment.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain weaselling fucks like High Viziers or Dukes.¡±


    ¡°They are a minority.¡±


    A servant came in and placed a tray on the table before us. It contained a teapot and three cups, as well as biscuits on a plate. They poured, then set down the cups before each of us.


    ¡°This framework sheds no light on the process by which entire nations such as Praes come to champion Evil.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know enough to answer, but there must be motivation. There is something they need but don¡¯t have, so they try to take it by force. Over time, taking becomes a part of their culture. Eventually, it¡¯s idolized.¡±


    ¡°Shed light on how you would proceed with resolving the underlying problems you perceive to exist.¡±


    ¡°First, you need to take away motivation to do Evil. To start with, give people less reasons to be unhappy. Invest in social welfare projects, build schools and churches, ensure everyone is educated. Improve the justice system. I don¡¯t know the full scope of reforms required. If we can identify the problems and find the right people to deal with them, eventually we will succeed.¡±


    ¡°Words won¡¯t turn back the tides of darkness, only hard steel can hold the north.¡± Klaus stated.


    ¡°Killing villains won¡¯t fix anything,¡± I bit back. ¡°You¡¯ve been doing that for thousands of years and look how well it¡¯s turned out.¡±


    ¡°And what of those who stand proud with Below?¡±


    Aside from priests, Calernia didn¡¯t really have an equivalent to psychologists. Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t sure how to explain the concept briefly.


    ¡°Their teachers and parents can watch out for it and try to guide them.¡±


    ¡°And should they fall in spite of guidance?¡±


    ¡°You create institutions. Something like a city guard, but with oversight on Named.¡±


    I picked up my cup and took a light sip. The tea was black, and the bitterness was refreshing. The vapour leaving the cup was pleasant against my skin. A stark contrast to the cold.


    ¡°It is your intent for those chosen by Above and Below to be subject to laws?¡±


    ¡°Everybody else is.¡±


    ¡°What manner of laws do you believe they should follow?¡±


    ¡°The laws of the land they live in.¡±


    ¡°What else would you change, while you¡¯re planning the impossible? You¡¯re the first of Compassion¡¯s kids I¡¯ve had the fortune of meeting. You truly are an idealist.¡± The words Klaus said were biting, but the tone was almost fond.


    ¡°¡­ Terms of engagement.¡±


    ¡°You mean like prisoner exchanges, or not attacking under truce? Soldiers already follow terms of engagement.¡±


    ¡°Limits on what weapons are used. I¡¯ve fought a demon before, they shouldn¡¯t be allowed. The same for devils. Any weapon that results in significant collateral damage or has long term consequences should be restricted.¡±


    It felt odd suggesting a ban that would remove me from conflict, but I knew what I could do. It was better that I not be allowed to fight, then other powers like me be unleashed on either side. They would be far less restrained.


    Besides, there were plenty of ways I could contribute to a fight against Evil without killing people. The same wasn¡¯t true for other demons.


    ¡°Whilst the nations of Good would accede to those limitations, they have no power without the accordance of Evil polities.¡± Cordelia stated.


    I shrugged.


    ¡°Offer concessions elsewhere. Good probably has a weapon just as bad. If you ask me, being Good doesn¡¯t give you the right to commit atrocities. The ban can go both ways. If that doesn¡¯t work, offer favourable trade agreements.¡±


    ¡°How would you ensure these terms are met? Without the consent of villains, the terms have no merit.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe create a legal body that can serve as oversight and enforcement. Where I came from, we had one. Convince some heroes to join it. It would be difficult, but not impossible.¡±


    ¡°Praes has no incentive to allow such a force to operate within their borders.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Exactly what would fall under this entity¡¯s purview? Would they encompass solely the Principate, or the entirety of Calernia?¡±


    ¡°Ideally, the whole continent. I¡¯d start with a single nation, then expand outwards.¡±


    ¡°Consider only the nations aligned with the Gods Above. The legal and the cultural expectations deviate substantially in Procer from Levant. Why would an organization with international authority would ever succeed in garnering approval?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s in everyone¡¯s best interest?¡±


    ¡°Unless the enforcer has no teeth, the existence of such an entity threatens the sovereignty of every nation they are able to operate within.¡±


    ¡°Liesse was not the worst disaster I have seen, just the most recent. Unless something changes, tragedies like it will keep happening. I don¡¯t know how to convince rulers to agree, but it is in everyone¡¯s best interest.¡±


    ¡°It seems unlikely that these reforms will prevent new villains entirely. I suggest setting your sights on smaller, more manageable tasks rather than those which cannot be achieved,¡± Cordelia added.


    ¡°These ideas won¡¯t remove villains. That isn¡¯t the point. It¡¯s a step in the right direction. We don¡¯t need to succeed in a single try. If we move what is considered acceptable further in one direction, then one day villains won¡¯t be tolerated anywhere at all.¡±


    Sure, the final step would likely involve divine intervention, but just because I felt it was needed at the end didn¡¯t mean we couldn¡¯t also help ourselves along the way.


    ¡°While your broader goal is laudable, if idealistic, those are ultimately international politics. Do you have similar lofty ideas for the Principate that you would care to expound upon?¡±


    Grimacing, I leaned into innovate once more.


    Right. Cordelia cares about the Principate.


    ¡°Does the Principate need to exist at all?¡±


    ¡°The Principate was founded on the flames of Dread Empress Triumphant¡¯s pyre. Should another like her arise, or should the Dead King cross our borders, it would take the combined might of the entirety of Procer to drive them off. Its existence is a cornerstone in the battle against Evil.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t a mutual defence pact achieve the same result?¡±


    ¡°The southernmost Principalities would have no strong motivation to sally forth to our defence, considering the distances involved. Furthermore, should the Principate splinter into a collection of individual polities, the rate of conflict would only escalate. So long as there is a chance for the princes to claim the position of First Prince, it is in their interest to participate in the defence of all Principalities.¡±


    ¡°You really believe that the southern principalities would just abandon you to fight on your own?¡±


    ¡°The gulf between Rhenia and Aequitan is vast. Until the Dead King¡¯s armies are standing at their gates, they will view the conflicts against Evil as a remote concern.¡±


    ¡°So you are saying that people in different Principalities don¡¯t really care about people in other Principalities, because they are unlikely to ever meet?¡± I clarified


    ¡°That is correct.¡±


    So the only reason the Principate functioned at all was greed. True, the countries on Earth had not been much better, but most of them didn¡¯t have the audacity to call themselves Good in the religious sense.


    Establishing a functional democracy on Calernia would be hard, considering stories. I also wasn¡¯t sure if it would fix anything. Well, Cordelia wanted me to voice my ideas, why not suggest it?


    ¡°The system of governance in the Principate could change. Much like the First Prince, the other princes could also be elected by the citizens within their Principality. Four year terms only. The system could be designed to allow people from all walks of life to administer the principalities, not just those born into the life of a prince.¡±


    ¡°The system of governance used in Callow has been met with failure ever since the events in Liesse. Since then, the Black Knight has taken a much more direct role in the administration of affairs.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t known or expected any of that. It came as an unpleasant surprise. But that wasn¡¯t what I was proposing.


    ¡°What I am suggesting only has superficial similarities.¡±


    ¡°Why allow those not bred for statecraft to occupy the halls of power?¡±


    What¡­ did she want me to say here?


    ¡°The only difference between someone born into your family and someone born on the street is luck, not the will of the Gods.¡± Klaus looked like he was about to interrupt me, I raised a hand and cut him off. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the Choir of Compassion and come a lot closer to seeing the Gods than most people ever will. They don¡¯t weigh in on decisions like that. That is decided by what you do, not who you were born as.¡±


    ¡°Talent is distributed blind to titles and breeding,¡± Cordelia agreed, ¡°but your claim is also founded on falsehood. The circumstances of birth are not the only difference separating a peasant and a prince. Princes are well-educated, better connected, and have greater autonomy. This confluence of circumstances makes them better suited to rule. The life of a pauper may be tragic, but his poverty does not qualify him for the right to rule.¡±


    ¡°The world doesn¡¯t need to be that way. In my homeland, anyone could lead. Most people were educated. What stops you from doing the same? Praes has an education system. Anyone can learn if they are willing to serve in the Legions. Why shouldn¡¯t the Principate do the same?¡±


    ¡°The system you propose remains founded on a lie. Those born into wealth are afforded greater opportunities, will breed better, will have access to advantages that those under them never will. Thus, they will remain the ones best suited to rule.¡±


    Is this really what she thinks?


    I had walked into this discussion hoping this could possibly be a friendly relationship. If this was the way she thought, I doubted it would work. It was as if Cordelia didn¡¯t even realize how dismissive she was being to those under her when she spoke. Was this really my best choice for improving the lives of people in the Principate?


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    To my dismay, the subtle threads of the story strongly suggested it.


    ¡°Just because people will never be perfectly equal, doesn¡¯t mean we shouldn¡¯t try to bridge the gap. The system I am proposing is not perfect, but it is better.¡±


    ¡°If both systems result in the same ruler being selected, then your efforts have born no fruit. Furthermore, the current system ensures a static selection of leaders within each Principality for extended periods of time. This allows for long term planning and stable governance. Introducing a democratic process to the governance of the individual Principalities would introduce the inefficiencies of those processes.¡±


    ¡°You said you don¡¯t want to be a tyrant.¡±


    It¡¯s like she¡¯s deliberately trying to undercut everything I say.


    ¡°If you wish to alter the shape of Procer¡¯s politics, these are but a few of the questions you will need to answer.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± I replied, exasperated. ¡°I also know that I¡¯m not the person that should be answering them. It should be someone like you. It¡¯s why I am listening to your offer and not trying to do this on my own.¡±


    ¡°You would trust someone else with shaping your dreams?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about trusting others with my dreams. I¡¯ll still do my best to learn and find out what it takes. But even then, it¡¯s about¡­ finding the right people. I don¡¯t think I am the right person to lead, but I can find them and point out the goal. If I can¡¯t find the right person to lead, then I will do it, but it isn¡¯t my first choice.¡±


    ¡°You proposed that serfs should elect their own rulers. When a patient visits a healer, they have no say in how their injury is remedied, they trust the expertise of the priest. Explain why you believe that individuals who do not understand the highest offices of power should have any say in what occurs there.¡±


    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t they? Your decisions affect them. What gives you the right to decide how people live their lives without their say so?¡± I retorted.


    There was a pause for a moment, before discussion resumed.


    ¡°For now, let us proceed under the assumption that your hypothetical model would work. How would you justify the cost of undergoing such large-scale societal reforms.¡±


    ¡°You want to continue arguing about this?¡±


    ¡°If you wish for an agreement between us to be found, then it is imperative you outline what you wish to achieve.¡±


    I feel like I am being put through a school test that I didn¡¯t know I needed to prepare for.


    ¡°To start with, a civil war like the current one wouldn¡¯t happen.¡±


    ¡°How did you reach that conclusion?¡±


    ¡°Their people wouldn¡¯t re-elect them if they did. Nobody is going to vote the person starting wars they don¡¯t want back into power.¡±


    I picked up one of the biscuits and took a bite. It was overly sweet, but now that I had started eating it, I was committed to finishing.


    ¡°The belief that reforming the system would prevent another civil war is false. It is predicated on the assumption that the elected ruler is incapable of convincing their subjects of the righteousness of war.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true. But it¡¯s harder, there¡¯s extra steps.¡±


    ¡°The certainty of power is an illusion. It is already necessary for the princes to have the approval of their subjects, for if they did not, then their rule would be overturned.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t true. The people in charge will kill them for speaking out, It¡¯s a large motivation to not step out of line. Give people a way to remove their leaders and they will use it¡±


    ¡°If the princes of each Principality are genuinely held in contempt by their subjects, their subjects would revolt. They are not, they are seen as cultural symbols of pride. Furthermore, it is not difficult to externalize any existing problems. It is easy for one to believe that individuals they have never met before are the cause of their woes, rather than those they are familiar with.¡±


    ¡°The system worked where I came from. I don¡¯t believe you can just copy it across exactly as is, but that doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t take parts of it and make it work here.¡±


    ¡°Even assuming that was true, how would you convince the other Princes to relinquish their hold on authority and accept these reforms?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°I was hoping you could find an answer to that.¡±


    ¡°Regardless, I have heard enough,¡± Cordelia declared. ¡°Now that we have established what you want, we can focus our attention on the civil war. Afterwards, we can finalize terms.¡±


    While she didn¡¯t say it, I suspected that my third requirement wasn¡¯t an imposition at all for her. She planned to rule the Principate. Even if what I wanted was unrealistic in her mind, she almost certainly planned reforms of her own. She could consider both at the same time, even if she had no intention of implementing my own.


    This relationship would almost certainly have to be transactional. I didn¡¯t think I would like Cordelia as a person, but I didn¡¯t need to, provided that I controlled what she wanted. I would trade what she wanted for her finding and implementing solutions to social problems, if that was what it took. It was unlikely she would have an issue with that, especially if I funded them.


    I wouldn¡¯t be seeing a functional democracy any time soon, but that was fine. Right now, I wasn¡¯t aiming for one. I planned to start at the bottom and work my way up.


    ¡°As one sworn to Compassion, how much do you know about waging war?¡± Klaus began.


    ¡°Admittedly not much. I know small unit tactics, for an irregular group of soldiers.¡±


    ¡°Prince Dagobert has an iron grip on many of the neighbouring Principalities. Ever since Princess Constance died, the pressure applied to him from the east has waned.¡±


    ¡°Prince Dagobert demands we raise our armies and support his claim, or suffer brutal taxes under his reign. The tone of ongoing communications has become more pointed as the war progresses,¡± Cordelia added.


    ¡°While the Lycaonese are the most veteran soldiers in the Principate, we have little time to capitalize on that. Parts of our forces are always tied up on the walls, and any we deploy must be pulled back come spring.¡±


    ¡°Which means you want what?¡­¡±


    ¡°I want you to consign enemy generals to the grave and force their surrender.¡±


    ¡°I take it there¡¯s no way to resolve the conflict through diplomacy?¡±


    I doubted there was, otherwise it would have been done before. But there was no harm in asking.


    ¡°The conflict has dragged on for long enough that hatreds have become entrenched. The war will not end until only a single claimant remains.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that this is going to continue until the people in charge die.¡±


    ¡°That is the shape of it. Are you willing to excise the rot?¡±


    ¡­ I think he got the wrong impression from what I had said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not killing everyone,¡± I leaned back in my chair. The comforting press of the green satin against the back of my head almost felt strange after having spent so long in rougher quarters. ¡°At least, not so long as I don¡¯t have proof they¡¯re all awful people.¡±


    Especially not after Cordelia¡¯s earlier argument. It hadn¡¯t done much to convince me she was any better than the other princes she complained about. I suspected that if she hadn¡¯t been born in Rhenia, she would not have cared about its problems at all.


    ¡°The Principate needs order. Sometimes hard choices must be made.¡±


    ¡°I think you and I will disagree on what it means to make hard choices.¡±


    ¡°Compassion¡¯s get are the best of us, but your goodness blinds you. Sometimes, someone has to order the torches thrown.¡±


    ¡°Choosing to kill people to make the issue go away is easy. Not on your conscience, but in terms of knowing the outcome. It¡¯s final. It brings new complications of its own, but you know that the solution to that one problem is set in stone. Other answers are more messy and the outcomes are uncertain. Making a decision where you don¡¯t know if the answer will work is much harder. If killing is the only answer to a problem, then that¡¯s fine, but I have a lot of choices.¡±


    ¡°So said the voice of one who has never held a blade.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve killed more than enough. Some I regret, others I don¡¯t. You¡¯re thinking about this as if you don¡¯t have other options here. There is nothing stopping me from imprisoning the claimants somewhere they could never escape from. It would take time to find them all, but I could do it. I could also compel them to fight each other in single combat until only one remained. Violence isn¡¯t the only choice I have.¡±


    Klaus started choking with laughter. He had been drinking while I was talking, and some of it went down the wrong way. He held the cup like a savage, with his hand under the base.


    Cordelia and I both looked in on the man, unamused.


    ¡°Only the House of Light would tolerate those proposed solutions. All claimants would find those ideas to be abhorrent. Furthermore, you would be in effect declaring that you have the right to decide who rules the Principate.¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond. It wasn¡¯t as if those proposals had been serious. They were more an example of what I could do.


    ¡°None of them are doing their duty to the Principate,¡± Klaus¡¯s voice had hardened. ¡°It¡¯s a hard truth, but sometimes blades need to be drawn.¡±


    I reached onto the table and picked up another biscuit from beside the teapot. Nibbling on it, I composed my thoughts before deciding on how to respond.


    ¡°I know I¡¯m an outsider here. That I have no right to tell you how to resolve this, but you¡¯re missing something important. If you want to plan involving me, then my opinion matters. You can¡¯t just treat me like a weapon and point me at your problems. I¡¯m not willing to just kill on command.¡±


    Klaus muttered something under his breath about the folly of Compassion¡¯s heroes. I ignored it.


    ¡°Are the soldiers conscripts, or are they hired mercenaries?¡±


    It mattered to me because it changed how I viewed the fighting. If the soldiers were there voluntarily, then it was their own decision to fight. As stupid as I thought that decision was, I wouldn¡¯t take it away from them.


    So long as they didn¡¯t hurt innocents in the process of killing each other, I was fine with them fighting it out.


    ¡°That varies from prince to prince. Most of them are making heavy use of peasant levies, others are hiring foreign soldiers.¡± Klaus responded.


    ¡°Won¡¯t there be consequences for that? The war¡¯s continued for so long. Surely this is unsustainable.¡±


    ¡°Many years will need to be spent after the culmination of the war, restoring the Principate¡¯s economy,¡± Cordelia interjected.


    ¡°I am not saying I won¡¯t consider killing people at all, only that it isn¡¯t going to be my first choice.¡±


    ¡°How many lives must be spent before you choose to act?¡±


    I should have just told them I wouldn¡¯t kill people at all. While it wouldn¡¯t have been entirely true, simply mentioning that it was an option meant that they were going to keep pushing me for it.


    ¡°Think of me like a dragon, only there is no hero here who is going to come save the enemy. If I was fighting, the only person who would matter is me. I think that this war is stupid, but people chose to fight, and I won¡¯t take that away from them. The moment I act, the fight ends. It¡¯s me saying that nobody else¡¯s opinion matters. I would only be a few steps removed from declaring myself queen. I don¡¯t want to do that.¡±


    I knew I was being a hypocrite. But I was not deeply attached towards any of the sides, and I wasn¡¯t going to kill because someone who I had only just met was asking me to. If they wanted me to fund their campaign in exchange for meeting my needs, I would do that. The people they would be paying were fine with killing others for money, even if I refused to.


    ¡°Your principles are noble, but won¡¯t safeguard our borders.¡±


    I was about to refuse once more, when I felt a nudge from the Choir. What they wanted did not make my life any easier.


    Am I really going to agree to their request?


    ¡­ Yes, yes I was. Because it was the right thing to do, even if it was unlikely to succeed. I didn¡¯t believe it would work, but I would at least try. If I didn¡¯t try, I was choosing to fail.


    ¡°I¡¯ll accompany an army of your choice, and I¡¯ll follow the chain of command outside of battle, although I won¡¯t involve myself in the fights. I¡¯ll support them in almost any way you like. But before battle, I want permission to attempt resolving the conflict through negotiation.¡±


    ¡°That is both irregular and creates openings for enemy action.¡±


    ¡°It is irregular,¡± I agreed. ¡°But I¡¯ll negotiate for it. It¡¯s a request from my Choir to find a peaceful resolution.¡±


    ¡°For there to be an agreement, you need to compromise. Right now, you demand much but offer little.¡±


    ¡°Start proposing ideas that don¡¯t involve killing people, and we can come to an agreement.¡±


    ¡°Are you able to scry? Long distance communication would prove advantageous.¡± Klaus asked.


    I reached onto the table and carefully lifted the fragile porcelain cup. Bringing it to my lips, I inhaled the tea¡¯s fragrance before taking a small sip and placing it back down.


    ¡°I could, but it¡¯s risky and unreliable. It has a limited range as well. I would rather not.¡±


    ¡°How about defensive emplacements. Strategically placed barriers, like the ones you used at Liesse, or raising and lowering enemy morale.¡±


    I had the sense that he didn¡¯t really understand what I could do very well. If that wasn¡¯t corrected, the conversation would go on for hours.


    ¡°What do you see me as? Where do I fit in?¡±


    ¡°A highly talented Praesi sorcerer. That would make you equivalent to some better dwarven siege artillery.¡±


    ¡°My only reference for a highly talented Praesi sorcerer is the Warlock, and I have no idea what dwarven siege artillery can do,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you explain what you can do?¡±


    I shrugged, then tapped the tablecloth. As I did so, I turned it into aluminium foil.


    Both of them paused and stared. Cordelia recovered composure first.


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you returned my tablecloth to its former status,¡± she said drily.


    I did so.


    ¡°How much can you do?¡± Klaus asked.


    ¡°When I said I can do almost anything, I meant it. It does depend on the complexity. The less complicated the outcome is, the easier it is for me to do. I can do large scale workings anywhere within a mile of me, although eventually I do become exhausted. You¡¯ve been trying to fit me into an existing framework when it¡¯s not helpful. I could just make money out of dirt. There is no amount of money Praes can raise that I can¡¯t eventually beat. There is nothing stopping you from just bribing the opposition.¡±


    ¡°Attempting to bribe the other princes is an act of folly. They would reinvest the capital into hiring more mercenaries, then turn them against us.¡± Cordelia replied.


    ¡°How about funding your own campaign?¡±


    ¡°The proposal has merit, provided the material you create is not Proceran coinage.¡±


    ¡°Why the distinction?¡±


    ¡°You are not the First Prince, you do not have the right to mint coins. Even if you were, there are laws in place determining how much currency may be minted by the First Prince. It is a minor distinction, but every action I undertake will be scrutinized in the aftermath of the civil war.¡±


    ¡°I thought you would have complained about me devaluing currency.¡±


    ¡°Debasing the value of Proceran coinage would cost capital far in excess of the price of winning the war. Irrespective of this, the impact of the added coin will only be felt in the later stages of the war.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°We have until before next Spring to win the war. The Ratling activity in the north has picked up in recent years, and we cannot afford for the walls to be caught unguarded. Setting aside the finer details, we have little time to strike. Spending coin will still take time.¡± Klaus explained.


    ¡°Would any other goods prove useful?¡±


    ¡°There are some which would be of benefit. Although for now, it is wiser to adopt a more conservative approach.¡±


    ¡°Is there a reason for that?¡±


    Cordelia finished up her tea, and placed the empty cup down beside the pot.


    ¡°Blatant mass transmutation will indicate to every merchant in the Principate that the only value their wares hold is the value that you permit. Fear and hatred are the expected consequence of this, and that would make an alliance between us untenable. Furthermore, the utility of what you are capable of is constrained by the needs of Rhenia. Our people are sufficiently armed and armoured, war has long been our trade.¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t an alliance between us work if that happened? It¡¯s not you that poses the threat.¡±


    ¡°For a long term period of stability to exist after the conclusion of the civil war, the prevailing claimant needs to achieve victory in a manner that is deemed acceptable by all princes. Were you to threaten the livelihood of everyone at all levels of society, it would be found intolerable.¡±


    ¡°So aside from gold, which won¡¯t pay off for a while, what would you like me to do right now then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You said you can make almost anything. Is that right?¡± Klaus interjected.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. So long as I know what I¡¯m trying to make.¡±


    ¡°Can you make roads?¡±


    What?


    Out of all the requests I had expected, that hadn¡¯t been one. From blowing up enemy armies to interfering with the economy, it was all more or less something I had already considered. Undertaking civic projects was not on the list of ideas I had.


    ¡°I could,¡± I admitted. ¡°How fast would depend on exactly what you want. If you just want me to smooth out land, I could probably do it all day. If you want me to turn dirt into a heavily decorated cobbled brick road, I¡¯d tire myself fast.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need something fancy, just flat and traversable by cataphracts. The Principality of Brus is covered in swampland. Roads are forced to follow the terrain. Should you cut a direct route to the city through the deepest parts of the bog, the campaign would be accelerated. Furthermore, we can launch assaults from less defended regions.¡±


    ¡°Floating them across on an island would be faster.¡±


    ¡°Can both be done at once?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Roads have more long term utility.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that have the same problem as if I mass-produced goods?¡± I asked.


    ¡°It does not,¡± Cordelia replied. ¡°Civil engineering in regions which are not currently easily navigable is several steps removed from directly interfering with the economy. It is not interfering with the livelihood of anyone important. Furthermore, it will likely cause a long term economic uplift by increasing the rate of transit between cities.¡±


    ¡°There are people living along existing roads. Aren¡¯t their jobs threatened by this?¡±


    ¡°Should that prove to be the case, there is nothing preventing them from moving somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t concerned about losing the fight?¡±


    ¡°There are not many enemies I would not trust the swords of the Lycaonese to prevail over. The southern princes aren¡¯t one of them. Time is the hole in our gorget, not our strength of arms.¡±


    ¡°I can build roads. Is there anything else?¡±


    The suggestions proposed from that point onwards became more palatable. From putting enemy soldiers to sleep ¨C unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t sure I could do that to crowds safely ¨C to trapping them in prisons. There were additional requests for transmutation as well. Better steel for weapons and armour. Requests for crossbows, which I did not know how to make but could learn. However, most of Klaus¡¯s attention remained focused on logistics.


    The conversation dragged on for a long, long time. It was exhausting. On the whole, the meeting had been disappointing in some ways and promising in others. By the time we were done, the sun had set, and I had agreed to fund Cordelia¡¯s war chest, as well as provide her with some specific goods. She kept trying to coerce me into finalizing agreements that would only take place after the war concluded. Those, I put off. They could wait until later, and be traded for actual reforms.


    Right now, I was bartering for time spent refining my ideas and the continued use of her information network. Maybe I was paying a little too much, but I wanted it to be obvious just how much I could do for her. I would be Good¡¯s drug dealer if that was the way to change the world and right now, Cordelia¡¯s first hit was cheap.


    I still didn¡¯t know why she felt my assistance was necessary. She was a master at deflection whenever pressed on the subject.


    Once the campaign truly began, I would be assisting Mathilda Siegenburg¡¯s forces. They would be leading the charge against Brus. I doubted I would be able to resolve the conflict peacefully, but I would at least try.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how I felt about participating in a war for a country that I had no real allegiance to, but I did know one thing. There was no way for me to reasonably start making changes without choosing to align myself with an existing side, or making a side of my own.

 Liminal 3.03

    ¡°Note: claims that people are stronger together have yet to be successfully proven. Attempts to stitch multiple soldiers into a single unit have failed to produce anything except a corpse.¡±


    ¨C Extract from the journal of Dread Emperor Malignant II


    <hr>


    Finishing my evening prayers, my heart sank as I prepared to leave my tent. We had just finished making camp, but I could already hear the familiar footsteps of somebody approaching from outside. The swamp was unbearably humid. Insects were everywhere, the food kept rotting, and it was impossible to keep anything clean.


    It would have been nice if I could solve everything. Unfortunately, there was only so much of me to go around. Between roadworks, dealing with swamp monsters, weather, and decay, I had to prioritize. I spent most of my time each day reshaping terrain, so that cavalry could be safely marched across the deepest and most direct parts of the bog.


    In addition to that, I needed to obscure both light and smoke from fires to help hide our position from any potential enemy scouts. It took a ghost a day to keep an entire army¡¯s movements hidden, and although I sorely wanted to use them for almost anything else, I understood the need.


    I also wanted to try to do something about the weather. When I proposed the idea, I was gently informed that nobody wanted a repeat of Dread Empress Sinistra I.


    They didn¡¯t appreciate me suggesting that it would only be a small wasteland at worst. I swear my humour went unappreciated sometimes.


    The other problems were left to everybody else.


    Doing nothing but that was dull and exhausting. It left me with little energy for anything else. Klaus had asked me if I was able to expand the watchtower network along the new road. I had given it a genuine try. It had only taken me a couple of failures before realizing that without much more time to work on it, creating wholesale buildings on demand was beyond me. Not if I didn¡¯t want them to collapse from all the other related architectural problems that I didn¡¯t immediately know how to solve.


    It was a pity that we were working on such a tight schedule, else I probably could have figured it out.


    Watchtowers weren¡¯t as good for communication as widespread use of scrying would be, but it would have been a good temporary measure. The system was already in use by the Lycaonese, so it didn¡¯t surprise me when I was asked if I could add to it.


    Only one more day in the deeper part of this damn bog.


    Once we were on drier land again, I¡¯d be able to focus more on my own personal convenience.


    We were fast approaching Brus. It had been a while since I had agreed to work with Cordelia Hasenbach. Ever since then, I had needed to grow accustomed to my sudden change in circumstances. In my opinion, heroes and villains that were publicly known in Calernia were revered far too much. They had been a part of Bet¡¯s culture, but without the religious connotations they had here. My interactions with people who weren¡¯t in a position of authority were off-putting. They treated me as if I was a holy relic rather than a person.


    The only exception to that were the soldiers. It was difficult to figure out where I stood with them. Some seemed to view me with a low level of contempt. I wasn¡¯t sure what they had against me, but clearly there was something. Others viewed me with reverence, and a few with pity. Despite that, all were appreciative of my contributions to the campaign. Their feelings about me were a knot that would take me longer than I cared to untangle, so I just left it alone.


    Which was how I ended up wet and mostly miserable with not much in the way of friends, just waiting for this journey to end.


    Before we had set off, reports on the investigation of Roland¡¯s whereabouts had started to come in. Or rather, reports on where he wasn¡¯t. No news on his location had been found so far, although that didn¡¯t surprise me. There had only been time to start gathering information from the northernmost Principalities. Not knowing where he was had turned into a constant worry on the edge of my mind.


    A shadow crossed my tent. I turned around as the covers were opened and came face to face with someone who was growing on me more than I cared to admit.


    ¡°Taylor, you¡¯re needed at command!¡± Yvette squeaked out, her puffed out rosy cheeks making her look like a chipmunk as she did.


    Great.


    Yvette had been assigned to me as an assistant by Cordelia. She was a kid. I guessed that she was maybe thirteen years old, with shoulder-length blonde hair and tanned skin. She came up just underneath my chest and wore a leather jerkin and trousers that were dyed an emerald green.


    Doing my best to hide my foul mood, I climbed to my feet and made my way outside.


    The air outside was thick enough that I could drink it. We were camped on one of the few bits of land that stuck out of the murky waters. Despite this, I still had to spend over half an hour making the place inhabitable.


    The croaking of frogs and bird call drowned out all other noise. It made hearing Yvette difficult.


    ¡°Can I just say again that it¡¯s such an honour to be able to work with you and I won¡¯t let you down. I promise, I promise, I promise!¡± Her voice rose in pitch as she spoke. By the end of it, she was vibrating in place. She gave the same speech at least three times a day. I hadn¡¯t managed to curtail it.


    She had a serious case of hero worship. I was concerned it might be terminal.


    ¡°So, what have you learned today?¡± I asked.


    Anything to change the topic.


    ¡°You want to know how my reading is going? Oh, no! Oh, no. I¡¯m so, so, sorry! I haven¡¯t continued from where I left off last time but I¡¯ll do my best to catch up the moment I can. Did I tell you about how I came to be in Rhenia? You see, we moved to Rhenia from Brabant two years ago, but then my family were killed in a Ratling raid. When they tried to kill me I panicked and set everything on fire and that¡¯s how I learned I had the gift and I am sorry am I talking too much?¡± She rattled out, bouncing around on the soles of her feet.


    Yvette was a bit of an airhead, and her mind seemed to jump from topic to topic like a kitten playing with yarn. Despite that, she was a good kid. Although, the sheer joy she derived from being able to assist me was both flattering and uncomfortable.


    The girl had the gift for sorcery. I suspected that she had been put in my care as an apprentice of sorts, which made everything more complicated. The people in charge knew that I wasn¡¯t actually a wizard, but that hadn¡¯t stopped them from assigning her to me.


    All the actual wizards were allegedly too busy to care for her.


    I was going to have to be careful that teaching her my second hand knowledge of magic didn¡¯t end up killing her.


    It was made worse by the fact that I had no excuse to ignore the pull of the story. Creation was once again offering me someone to watch over. Only this time, if I didn¡¯t take her on, she would almost certainly be worse off. She was going to be following around someone, and it would be someone in the army. That didn¡¯t make for a good childhood at all.


    She would be better off under my wing.


    I had grudgingly accepted the Role, although I was looking for an out that didn¡¯t involve passing responsibility on to someone else. Did I count as alien enough to qualify as something like a fairy godmother or benevolent patron, rather than a mentor? Those were similar enough roles that I should be safe, but I would definitely be looking for other options.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine.¡± I replied.


    She reminded me of a younger, happier version of myself. A version of me before my mother died. I used to chatter like that as well, and I would do my best to ensure she kept that.


    I continued to engage her in conversation as we made our way through the camp. The smell of horse manure was only barely discernible over the foetid stench of the swamp. It was like an extra special seasoning to add to the awful.


    The camp was well organized, but it still sprawled over far more space than I would have expected before we departed. Despite knowing that moving an army would be a logistical nightmare, seeing it was another matter entirely.


    Perhaps the worst part of being in the bog was how many people accrued incidental injuries. The need to heal them was a persistent scratch at the back of my mind. One that had been present ever since I had earned my Name. I wasn¡¯t compelled to stop and ask them if they wanted healing, but I ended up doing it anyway, simply to soothe the irritation before it started to mount.


    Finally, we arrived at the command tent. Yvette hid herself behind me as we went inside, making an active effort to disappear into my shadow.


    In the centre of the tent was a desk with maps strewn across it. I made my way in and stood at the base of the table. Mathilda Siegenburg noted my presence, then dismissed it just as quickly.


    Officers were making their way inside. I guessed that most of them were in their late thirties or early forties. They all looked as morose as I felt. Princess Mathilda Siegenburg stood to the right, her attendants surrounding her. The varied list of officers spread themselves out on the other side, closest to the entrance. Lastly, there was a small island of empty space around me. I was the odd one out.


    There was a low level of banter spread throughout the tent. People talked and passed jokes to each other. They were often dark. Despite that, the smiles that the jokes elicited told me that they were appreciated.


    Waiting, I looked over the map. We were currently in a roughly peanut shaped basin, with small hills rising to either side of the waistline in the North and South. We had entered from the North. A pin had been placed somewhere below the midway point, marking our position.


    As the last few officers wandered in, the noise died down and people began to play closer attention.


    ¡°Prince Amaury Goethal was spotted by scouts. He¡¯s leading a force towards the edge of the swamp over here,¡± Mathilda pointed to a spot near the Southern hills. ¡°We can expect to have to give battle sometime in the next two days. We have picket lines established, but it¡¯s unlikely they will launch an attack. It¡¯s in their best interest for us to just rot here.¡±


    None of them looked happy at that.


    ¡°How did they learn of our approach? This part of Brus is deserted.¡±


    Our force had been deliberately avoiding all enemy holdings and fortifications. Despite being deep in hostile territory, we hadn¡¯t yet fought even once. It was a planned strike directly at the capital through the unnavigable parts of the swamp. They had bargained for me to vanish the city walls on arrival, although that was all they had managed to get in terms of direct combat support. Klaus Papenheim was leading the charge against the Principality¡¯s actual defences, so the enemy soldiers should have been drawn away.


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t been determined yet. Either way, we have been caught with our pants down.¡±


    ¡°What do we know? Numbers, Equipment, Experience?¡± One of the officers asked.


    He was a short, surly man who had a bald pate and looked a bit like an ostrich. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t know his name. I hadn¡¯t been around the soldiers for long and hadn¡¯t had time to learn their names. I wasn¡¯t sure I would be around them for long enough, considering I was technically here on a quest and not out of necessity. Everyone else referred to him as Baldy, though. He didn¡¯t seem to mind, so I just went with it.


    ¡°Around three thousand light infantry and another thousand crossbowmen. No cavalry. None of them look hardened. I¡¯ll bet they¡¯re all levies that have had weapons shoved in their hands and told to fight,¡± Mathilda replied, then frowned, tapping the map thoughtfully. ¡°He¡¯s tasked some of his camp followers with building fortifications.¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°What kinds of fortifications?¡± Someone spoke up. I looked over their way.


    It was Whiskers. He was a tall man that towered over me, with a long, thin moustache that stuck out like whiskers. Out of all the people in the tent, he was the one I had spoken to most. I wasn¡¯t sure what he did, exactly. I suspected he was some kind of engineer. Whenever I was needed for something, I was usually sent his way.


    ¡°Only shallow ditches and walls. There¡¯s no time for him to do more, but key positions have been cut off.¡± She pointed to a number of spots on the map, indicating where she meant. ¡°We will need to break our forces up into smaller units in order to give battle.¡±


    ¡°Given the engagements Brus has been involved in this year, Prince Amaury must have scraped together every last soldier and peasant levy around. Prince Amaury may be in an alliance with Dagobert, but past conflicts with Cantal have mauled his forces,¡± Reed mused.


    Reed was a tall, spindly man. He was so skinny, he looked like he would be blown away in the wind. He stood hunched over the table. I could see him annotating a page with notes. Absently, he pushed a strand of long, black hair out of his eyes again. It had a tendency to do that.


    ¡°Why not circle around the encampment and march on Brus?¡± Another officer asked.


    This one, I didn¡¯t know.


    Mathilda objected, ¡°The water is too deep there for us to cross without the Chosen¡¯s help. Help that has not been bargained for. Were we to try unassisted, they could just pin us down with bolts and laugh as we died.¡±


    Reed took a breath and asked, ¡°Given the disposition of forces, would it not be wiser to pull out and engage elsewhere? Whilst the engagement will certainly resolve favourably, even untrained men with crossbows will inflict unnecessarily heavy casualties with the supporting structures.¡±


    Grimacing, Mathilda replied, ¡°We can¡¯t. The path we cut through the swamp isn¡¯t easy to miss. If we do, Prince Amaury can use this as an opportunity to strike at Klaus from behind. We need to tie him down here.¡±


    ¡°And hunkering down to prevent him from departing is not an option?¡±


    ¡°Our supplies will run out first,¡± Baldy replied.


    There were supposedly plenty of edible fish on the marsh, although none of us were skilled fishing.


    ¡°We will need to give battle then,¡± another officer determined. ¡°It¡¯s going to be ugly, though. No way about that.¡±


    I tried to follow the discussion that then unfolded, but I had never actually studied military strategy for entire armies. My knowledge was limited to Ward¡¯s tactics, and that didn¡¯t really apply here. Neither of my Graces were helping me. It wasn¡¯t like I was trying to innovate new approaches, only follow existing ones. I also didn¡¯t know enough about the Principate itself. So I stood there listening, and steadily became more and more lost.


    ¡°Should we expect intervention from Dagobert in his defence?¡± Reed asked.


    ¡°Not likely,¡± Mathilda stated. ¡°If anything, he will be busy trying to harry Klaus¡¯s supply line. His presence should not be expected on this field.¡±


    ¡°At least there is that,¡± someone muttered.


    I cleared my throat.


    Silence fell and everyone turned my way.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try talking with them, remember?¡±


    ¡°We know. Messengers will soon be dispatched to arrange for a meeting. They will know to expect you when you arrive. We¡¯re planning for when that eventually fails.¡± Mathilda replied bitingly.


    ¡°Is the Chosen not able to do something, then?¡± one of the officers sneered my way.


    It was Scarface. The Neustrians were very direct with their nicknames.


    Out of everyone I had met, he was the most unpleasant. He had a long, jagged scar running down the left side of his face and an embroidered red patch over one eye. I had been told the injury had been caused by a Praesi sorcerer. He didn¡¯t have the highest opinion of wizards, and even though I wasn¡¯t one, I was close enough to count.


    Everyone turned to me.


    I thought it over. How much did I want to involve myself here outside existing agreements?


    ¡°If you decide you want to retreat, I¡¯m willing to facilitate that.¡± I stated.


    Not that I expected they would. The Lycaonese did not usually retreat.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t going to do anything at all?¡± Mathilda pressed.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t my fight, it¡¯s yours.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡± She looked sour as she said it, but at least she admitted as much. Turning her gaze back to the table, she started to put more pins in the map. Without additional context, I didn¡¯t know what they were supposed to represent. ¡°How about deflecting crossbow bolts?¡±


    ¡°You mean some kind of barrier?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±


    Was I willing to just stay out of this?


    It really was the question, wasn¡¯t it. The more I offered, the more they would expect me to do.


    Fuck it.


    The enemies were allegedly mostly peasant levies. They weren¡¯t mercenaries. They certainly weren¡¯t professional soldiers like the Lycaonese. I didn¡¯t know how much they wanted to be here, but they definitely weren¡¯t the same as hired soldiers. It would probably be a slaughter if I didn¡¯t step in. I knew I shouldn¡¯t have followed an army. There was no way I was going to be able to sit aside and just let people kill each other.


    ¡°Do they have any sorcerers with them?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know. The evidence points to them being stationed elsewhere. This looks to be a reactionary force put together at the last moment to contest our arrival, but there is no certainty.¡±


    It was exceedingly unlikely that there would be a sorcerer as capable as the Warlock on the other side. That didn¡¯t mean that I shouldn¡¯t be cautious. It only took making a mistake once for me to end up at the end of a leash.


    ¡°If it comes to a fight, I might be willing to help on one condition.¡±


    ¡°Ask, and I¡¯ll judge.¡±


    ¡°You need to promise not to execute anyone who surrenders.¡±


    ¡°We had no intention of doing otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Then depending on how the negotiations proceed, I¡¯m willing to do something. I haven¡¯t decided what yet, but there will probably be plenty of prisoners.¡±


    I had suspected I was capable of forcing an army to surrender through sheer weight of emotions alone. Depending on the circumstances, it seemed like I would have the opportunity to test the theory. I hoped it didn¡¯t come to that. I¡¯d spend some time thinking on the subject and see what other solutions I could come up with.


    ¡°If it comes to that, we will respect your wishes,¡± Mathilda stated.


    She sounded doubtful that I would be willing to do something that would sway the outcome of the fight. That was fair, I hadn¡¯t exactly given the impression that I would help in the fight either.


    The others turned away from my interruption and continued on as if I had said nothing.


    The meeting ended not long after. I wasn¡¯t certain on the finer details of our plan. My part in it, though, was understood. Making my way out, I followed behind Reed. Yvette bounced along me excitedly.


    At that point, I was exhausted. Not physically or mentally, but emotionally. I understood that they didn¡¯t really relate to my perspective. This war was personal to them. Having an outsider dropped on them, who was given so much additional leeway, was obviously something they weren¡¯t happy about. They were appreciative of my help navigating through the swamp, but likely felt that I was an unwelcome burden otherwise.


    ¡°Do you have any commitments tonight, Taylor?¡± Reed asked.


    ¡°No,¡± I answered. The nights I had all to myself.


    ¡°Mathilda¡¯s commanding staff have a traditional commune on the eve before engagements. Would you care to join?¡± he continued.


    ¡°I¡­ uh, sure,¡± I replied, taken by surprise.


    The invitation was unexpected. While I was technically a part of the command staff, I didn¡¯t truly feel like a member. They all knew each other and had fought together before. I was the one who didn¡¯t fit in. Not only that, but my presence was making their lives more difficult.


    I could have chosen to avoid the meeting, but I didn¡¯t know how much time I would be spending with these people. I had promised Max I¡¯d try to better myself. A part of that meant making friends. I didn¡¯t know whether I could be friends with these people, but there was no harm in trying.


    He pointed out a spot near the command tent and told me when to show up. Thanking him, I left.


    Yvette and I retreated to my tent.


    ¡°Can you please please please teach me magic,¡± she asked, staring up at me like a sad cat.


    Gradually, the little goblin was wearing me down.


    ¡°I¡¯ve told you before that it won¡¯t be safe,¡± I admonished.


    Pouting, she kicked at my desk. ¡°I¡¯ll just have to figure out magic by myself then if you won¡¯t teach me since nobody is willing to teach me anyhow.¡±


    This is such a bad idea.


    ¡°I can only teach you the theory behind Jaquinite magic,¡± I informed her.


    ¡°Is there something wrong with that?¡± her eyes narrowed like a vulture who knew that it had caught its prize.


    ¡°I spent some time in Callow. After seeing what Praesi wizards can do, I believe Trismegistan sorcery is better,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that evil, though? I don¡¯t wanna be evil.¡± She shook her head vigorously from side to side in denial.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t evil. Magic is just a tool. It isn¡¯t good or evil. It¡¯s what you do with it that counts. Diabolists use Tresmegistan sorcery to summon up demons and devils, but I have also seen it used for other things. When I fought the Warlock-¡±


    ¡°Can you tell me about the fight with the Warlock again? What does he look like? How did you get away? Why didn¡¯t you win? Is he coming after you? Will he attack here?¡± she rattled off.


    I continued to entertain her questions for another half hour, before reaching my limit. Inventing a task for her to carry out, I finally had a moment to myself.


    I had started keeping a journal again, after the loss of my last one. I hadn¡¯t bothered recording my life before Creation this time. Instead, I focused only on the time I had spent here. One of the details I had noticed, in retrospect, was how much I had changed. Having a window into the mind of my past self was precious, and I didn¡¯t want to give it away.


    Eventually, I decided to follow up on the invitation.


    Leaving my tent, I made my way to a pit fire with a loose gathering of people around it. The others took note of my arrival.


    ¡°Seems the Princess isn¡¯t too good to join us after all,¡± Scarface growled.


    The tangled knot of a story brushed against me.


    I stiffened for a moment.


    An officer I didn¡¯t recognize noticed. I looked down at her, and watched as her brown eyes slowly narrowed.


    The threads were coming from her.


    ¡°That Princess comment got a reaction. Who¡¯re you related to?¡± She asked curiously, placing her dainty arms on her plate covered hips. There was a teasing undertone to it.


    Great.


    ¡°You call yourself a Princess once, and suddenly it never leaves you,¡± I muttered under my breath.


    The corner of her lips tugged up into a smile, ¡°That sounds like a story, care to share it?¡±


    ¡°No surprises there. Wasn¡¯t it obvious that the girl thinks she¡¯s too good for us?¡± Scarface interjected.


    The woman swirled around aggressively, facing Scarface. Her ponytail of red hair bounced from side to side as she did so.


    ¡°Give it a rest, Scarface, S¡¯not like she did anything to you,¡± she snapped. Looking closer at her, I guessed she was in her mid-twenties.


    He spat, ¡°What¡¯s it to you, Songbird?¡±


    Did I want to talk here?


    The broader details of the fight with the Artist were already known. There was little about the other encounters that I wanted to keep silent. My personal nature and a few other considerations. I wasn¡¯t sure how much I could manipulate my story by talking about it, but there were good reasons to make the attempt.


    I stopped and thought about it for a few more heartbeats. If I wanted to truly change the face of Creation¡¯s stories, I¡¯d need to have experience shaping them. Opportunities like this, as small as they were, were still a chance to practice. The stakes right now were small. If I wanted to one day sell my dream to the Gods, then I would need to be convincing.


    Treat this as a rehearsal, Taylor.


    ¡°It¡¯s not much of a story,¡± I interjected. ¡°There was this villain, the Arcadian Artist. The final confrontation you might have already heard of. It took place in Liesse. The first time I ran into him, I didn¡¯t even realize he was a villain. Before I knew it, I was trapped in one of his paintings. I escaped into Arcadia, where I ran into one of the Fae. I talked my way out of being killed by pretending to be a princess.¡±


    The tension drained out of them as I spoke.


    ¡°S¡¯not much of a story when you tell it like that,¡± She encouraged. ¡°Be more specific, narrate for us. Go on, you¡¯re s¡¯posed to be the hero here.¡±


    I looked around briefly. The others were observing with interest as well. Talking about my life after arriving was mostly harmless, and it seemed like a good way to break the ice. I doubted I¡¯d be with this group long enough to make friends, but I could still be on good terms with them.


    So I started to narrate.


    Telling stories in Calernia was just another form of prayer. But if I wanted Creation to listen to me, then I¡¯d need to be persuasive.

 Liminal 3.04

    ¡°Finding accord with the people of Procer is like attempting to negotiate with snakes, except the snakes are less likely to bite.¡±


    ¨C Callowan saying.


    <hr>


    It had rained during the night.


    This wasn¡¯t surprising. We were in a bog, after all. That didn¡¯t change what it did for morale. Everyone was in a foul mood. It didn¡¯t help that the dreams of the ruined city plagued me each night. Usually I didn¡¯t mind them, but right now I could kick a baby. Scouts had been sent out and were periodically reporting back.


    ¡°Are you sure I can¡¯t come with I¡¯ll be quiet I promise I just want to follow along.¡± Yvette babbled from down below.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure. I¡¯m sorry Yvette, but you¡¯re going to have to stay behind,¡± I told her.


    ¡°But why I¡¯m safe near you and then I can ask you more questions you still haven¡¯t taught me anything and you promised.¡±


    ¡°When I get back, I¡¯ll start teaching you.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± She huffed. Sulking, she turned and made her way back to the camp.


    For once, my clothes were clean. What I was wearing was fancier than usual, a white riding dress with gold trim. No matter how little I might care for this man¡¯s opinions, I¡¯d do my best to make a good impression if it helped prevent the fight.


    My mount trotted forward at a lazy pace before stopping beside Princess Mathilda.


    I had considered flying over to the meeting point, but decided against it. It would be all too easy for an enterprising crossbowman to decide that I was hostile and try to put a bolt through me. It probably wouldn¡¯t do much, but starting off with one side trying to kill the other wouldn¡¯t be setting the right tone.


    Biting my lip, I deliberated on whether I should ask Princess Mathilda about some of my ideas. I decided it would be the smart thing to do. She would have a better idea of the political consequences than I did.


    ¡°What would happen if I forced them to surrender?¡± I asked.


    I hoped it wouldn¡¯t come to that. In fact, that was the very last option I would reach towards.


    ¡°Depends on how you do it,¡± she answered offhandedly. ¡°If you attack them under truce, it will cause a political nightmare for all of us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not doing that,¡± I replied. ¡°After combat commences, I could overwhelm their willingness to fight. Throw some powerful emotion at them and force them to surrender.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that would work,¡± she told me dubiously.


    ¡°Assume it does.¡±


    ¡°If it did work, then on a logistics level our problems depend on how badly they are incapacitated. If they are catatonic, we will have thousands of prisoners to care for. That will slow down our movement to a crawl and badly strain our supplies.¡±


    That was bad, but I was willing to live with it if it saved people.


    ¡°And politically?¡±


    ¡°Hard to say,¡± she mused. ¡°Prince Cordelia would be best suited to answer. She is the one with the head for politics. I imagine there would be no shortage of Princes baying for your blood down south, but they wouldn¡¯t have much in the way of influence.¡±


    That was less advice on the subject than I hoped for. It didn¡¯t seem like she was giving the subject much thought, which was frustrating because it was important. I was trying to find a reason not to go ahead with it.


    ¡°Thanks for the advice.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ready to ride out?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± I confirmed.


    Insects swarmed around me. Irritably, I blew them away once more. Filthy things, how had I ever let them crawl in my hair?


    ¡°Good luck then,¡± she told me firmly.


    What went unsaid was that none of us had much hope of success.


    I dug my knees into Sisyphus¡¯s flank, giving him the signal to move. He had a dappled coat and a long mane. Despite how big the horse was, he had a placid temperament. He started to trot forward. It had taken the mounts a while to become used to walking towards shifting terrain, but eventually they stopped being spooked. Today, he didn¡¯t need to worry about that at all.


    I held a flag of truce upright in my right hand. Keeping it that way would be taxing, but without it, I was liable to be shot. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on the packed dirt I had shaped the day before helped to soothe my irritation. The buzzing of flies around me ran counter to that.


    In an effort to distract myself, I was absently toying with my temporary aegis in my mind. It was a skin tight forcefield on both me and my mount. I didn¡¯t expect to be shot under a flag of truce, but there was no reason not to play it safe.


    Slowly, I made my way across my land bridge. I passed beneath dreary looking mangrove trees. Sadly, they were liable to die due to the modifications I had made to the environment. It was difficult to see further than twenty feet in any direction, the place was so overgrown.


    It was a few hours later when I finally guided Sisyphus towards the rising slope of a large hill jutting out the other side of the swamp. There was a hive of activity taking place on it. Walls had been raised above, and people looked my way cautiously as I arrived.


    ¡°That way, chosen,¡± a voice called out from up ahead.


    I was pointed towards a path on my left, trailing away from the Brussian camp. It made sense, I suspected that they didn¡¯t want me to see whatever preparations they might have made. Following it, I carefully navigated my horse through unsteady terrain. I was tempted to flatten it out and make it easier to traverse, but I had a feeling that neither Prince Amaury nor his men would be happy with that arrangement. So I left the land be.


    The ground started to even out. Coming up onto a small plateau, there were a few tents set out haphazardly. Despite the distance from their fortifications, I could tell that the place had an air of urgency to it. I could see conscripted peasants working with the fervour of those who knew the hour of their death drew close. Hastily constructed defences littered the hillside. With only the smallest of efforts on my part, all of them would topple over. Despite their terrain advantage, I suspected that these men expected to lose.


    That didn¡¯t surprise me. They certainly wouldn¡¯t have predicted an assault through this part of the bog.


    I was led towards what I could only call an impromptu stable. There weren¡¯t many mounts nearby at all. Dismounting, I handed the reins of my horse to an attendant.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re our heroic visitor from up north?¡± someone spoke from my right. I turned and came face to face with a tall youth. ¡°Want to take a turn in the sheets with me? I could always do with a compassionate touch below,¡± he gestured towards his crotch.


    The boy¡¯s face was splotchy, and his eyes glossed over. At just a glance, I could tell that he was thoroughly drunk.


    I stifled my revulsion.


    ¡°I¡¯m not interested,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯m here to talk to Prince Amaury.¡±


    ¡°Father can wait, and I wasn¡¯t asking. He dragged me along on this farce, I may as well take some satisfaction from it,¡± he laughed, staggering drunkenly inside my personal space. His breath reeked. ¡°They say that you wouldn¡¯t even hurt a fly. I¡¯ve never had my way with a heroine before. There¡¯s always a first time.¡±


    He placed his hand on the surface of the forcefield covering my arm, then tried to pull me in for a kiss. I stiffened furiously, then shoved him back with my right hand.


    It didn¡¯t really matter how non-threatening the boy was, his attitude still nauseated me.


    ¡°How dare you lay your hands on me, wench?¡± he spat out. ¡°You should feel honoured to serve me.¡± He tried to seize my wrists, but I pulled back. Unbalanced, he leaned against the flank of a horse. It whinnied, then kicked at him. He yelped and moved aside, narrowly missing evading the hoof.


    Really?


    As he came in to grab me once more, I knocked him away with the pole of the flag. He sputtered as he collided with the ground.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you regret that,¡± he hissed.


    This was the son of Prince Amaury? My expectations were low enough without knowing that he had a rapist for an heir. Seizing him with chains of air, I pushed him back once more. His face turned an even angrier shade of red. The boy started to splutter. Filling his mouth was a makeshift gag, I forced him onto his knees. I wasn¡¯t prepared to listen to another word he said.


    ¡°If I wasn¡¯t under a flag of truce, you would probably be badly injured, if not dead,¡± I told him. ¡°What makes you believe you have the right to anyone at all?¡±


    Keep calm, Taylor.


    I hoped this wasn¡¯t a ploy by Prince Amaury to try to make me break the terms of the truce. The asshole had almost certainly been sent to take me to his father. It was possible Prince Amaury planned to put me in a position where I would attack his son and then claim that it was an unprovoked assault. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t be sure. I had been warned that the princes were awful people, I just wasn¡¯t expecting something like this.


    I turned to the stable hand. The poor boy¡¯s hazel eyes were opened widely. It looked like they were about to fall out. He was doing his best to hide behind my mount. I couldn¡¯t blame the kid. If I were in his position, I would want to be almost anywhere else as well.


    ¡°Find someone else to lead me to his father,¡± I ordered.


    Nodding jerkily, he bolted away.


    It was not long until somebody else arrived. A figure clad in plate adorned with the symbol of Brus. A Kingfisher. He had his helmet off, and was trailed by two guards. It took but a moment for me to spot the similarities in the face of this fair haired man and my attempted rapist.


    ¡°So Nathanael,¡± the man said, his voice laced with distaste, ¡°once more you overstep. Killing the sons of good merchants to escape from your debts is a grave enough fault, but attempting to lay your hands on one of heaven¡¯s chosen is reaching far beyond the pale.¡±


    Wait, he''s done things like this before and just been let off?


    ¡°Confine him to his tent and see to it that he doesn¡¯t wander astray. I will handle this incident more carefully after the battle concludes,¡± the man finished talking to one of his guards. He turned my way and spoke. The tone was commanding, even though he had no right, ¡°walk with me chosen.¡±


    By my reckoning, the altercation was far from resolved. I would make sure that something was done about Nathanael, because I certainly was not willing to allow him to escape unpunished.


    Following in step beside Prince Amaury Goethal, the two of us made our way towards a larger tent. It was close, there weren¡¯t many tents set out. There were more than I expected for this meeting.


    Do I do it?


    I decided not to, although it was really tempting. There was a plan of sorts which I had considered and then discarded. I was almost certain it would prevent the battle, but I didn¡¯t like the potential consequences of the scheme. The idea was simple really, use persevere to fully capture the conversation that occurred within the tent, then broadcast it to everyone within a mile of me.


    I had heard enough out of the mouth of Cordelia to convince me that doing so would probably be enough to cause a revolt. If this man was any worse than her, simply baiting him into saying the right words would result in one of his soldiers putting a bolt through his brain.


    But no, I wouldn¡¯t do that. I wasn¡¯t trying to burn the existing system to the ground and start over, I was trying to reform it piece by piece.


    Entering the tent, he moved towards a comfortable chair that had no place being on a military campaign. It was on the far end of a mostly empty desk, and another chair just like it was set near the entrance.


    ¡°Take a seat,¡± he ordered, as he proceeded to do so himself. Seeing no reason to negotiate while standing, I set my flag down then did as requested.


    He reached over to a bottle of wine and uncorked it.


    ¡°Would you care to share a glass with me?¡± he asked, his lips curling up into the hint of a smile.


    ¡°No, thank you. I don¡¯t drink.¡± As I started to talk, I felt something. It was almost imperceptible, tugging at the both of us, and guiding the flow of the conversation.


    Prince Amaury raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner. I think it was meant to look cheerful, but to me, it only looked forced.


    ¡°Such a shame. Wine would likely do wonders for your comportment.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t agree with me,¡± I answered diplomatically.


    He reached to a shelf behind him and pulled off a single wine glass, filling it. Holding it by the stem, he allowed it to breathe for a moment before finally taking a sip.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Emissaries from Prince Mathilda Greensteel clarified that it is not within your means to offer concessions for the Lycaonese. In spite of this, they urged me to take heed of your words. Would you be so kind as to shed light on why they did so, before blades are bared.¡±


    I suppressed a wince. I really should have asked for someone who could represent Cordelia to come with, but it had slipped my mind.


    ¡°It¡¯s a matter of faith for me.¡± It wasn¡¯t strictly true, but the explanation was good enough. ¡°I¡¯m not certain if I can solve this peacefully, but I need to at least try.¡±


    ¡°A pretty sentiment. Sentiment, however, does not warm a soldier¡¯s belly at night. What concessions can you offer me? For if all you have to offer is nought, then no accommodation may be reached.¡±


    I had spent some time discussing negotiation with Cordelia.  Not enough time to become good at it, but enough time to learn a little more about what it was that I needed to do. The first step, rather obviously, was defining what it was that I wanted.


    I wanted this to be resolved peacefully.


    The next step was working out what the other person wanted. I didn¡¯t know exactly what the Prince wanted, but it was easy to guess. He wanted power of some sort. Almost certainly political, because it wasn¡¯t like he was short on physical wealth.


    I had some experience with negotiating before, so this wasn¡¯t entirely new to me. It was a skill you needed to de-escalate situations as a member of the Wards. But it wasn¡¯t one I had been good at, so I was willing to follow Cordelia¡¯s advice.


    ¡°What do you want to negotiate for peace?¡± I asked bluntly. ¡°Depending on what it is, I might be able to do something.¡±


    ¡°Cordelia Hasenbach¡¯s hand in marriage with Frederick would have proven sufficient motivation to consider the alliance, were you capable of offering it,¡± Prince Amaury mused.


    Once again, I cursed myself for not asking for someone who could represent Cordelia to be present.


    ¡°I¡¯m not able to offer anything on her part.¡±


    ¡°A shame. I tried to negotiate with the girl, but she was unwilling to grant me what I wished.¡±


    If Cordelia¡¯s marriage was as low as he was willing to go, I could see why she might be against it.


    ¡°I can only offer what I can do.¡±


    ¡°You would need to shed light on exactly what that is.¡±


    ¡°This.¡±


    His wineglass currently rested on the desk. I turned it into steel. He eyed it contemplatively for a moment, then picked it up.


    ¡°You are chosen by Compassion?¡± he asked, his tone measured.


    I turned the wineglass back.


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°What is it that you strive to achieve?¡±


    ¡°I want to improve the lives of everyone. My plan is to start the process with social reforms. For example¡­¡± I continued to outline my goals briefly.


    ¡°Unless you were to wed into my household, I see no reason to bargain with you,¡± Prince Amaury stated bluntly.


    I blinked. Such a frank refusal came as a surprise.


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°It does not matter who claims the title of First Prince, you will offer your services regardless. Your faith demands this of you.¡±


    So the man believed he could have his cake and eat it too.


    ¡°I¡¯m not marrying anyone.¡±


    ¡°Then you have little else to offer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s something else you want. Work with me here.¡±


    ¡°You possess nothing which I cannot claim merely by waiting for the opposition to lose.¡±


    ¡°Why do you think I won¡¯t fight?¡±


    ¡°I found it doubtful that one blessed with the virtue of compassion would dare take to the field.¡±


    ¡°I fought against the Warlock.¡±


    Prince Amaury snorted theatrically. ¡°You spared the lives of the peasantry at Liesse. There are no records of you ever having harmed another soul. I hold that it is because you will not.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t throw away this chance. Negotiate. Please.¡±


    ¡°You are so assured of the victory of the Lycaonese?¡± he stated, amused.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning on involving myself in this fight, then I found out that you¡¯re mostly fielding peasant levies.¡±


    Before I met the man¡¯s son, I was sitting on the fence. Now, I was committed. No matter what happened, this fight wasn¡¯t going ahead.


    ¡°And what of it? It is their place to serve us Princes, nothing more or less.¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t choose to be here. They are here because you are forcing them to be.¡±


    ¡°They are my sworn subjects. If I wish for them to die for me on the field of battle, then it is their duty to do so.¡±


    ¡°It is your responsibility to care for them. They aren¡¯t objects you can just throw aside.¡±


    ¡°It is a pretty thing that you propose, but like all pretty things, it is a lie.¡± He placed his wineglass down on the desk. His eyes narrowed, then he spoke once more. ¡°Do you know what divides the great from the small?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me?¡±


    ¡°Opportunity. Those marked for greatness seize it tightly, whilst those whose candle burns dull let it escape their grasp. And the peasants? Those on the fields? They were set on a path from the moment of their birth, cursed with little opportunity at all. From their first heartbeat, they were destined to serve.¡±


    Keep calm.


    It really would have been easy to cause a revolt. Sadly, the long term consequences of that would probably have been awful. It would count as breaking a truce, and wouldn¡¯t reflect well on me in the future. Consequences, I really hated the word. Hated having to think about them.


    Even if I doubted Cordelia would have any trouble replacing the man, I suspected it would weaken my relationship with her.


    I leaned deeply into the support of my angelic companions. Their warmth comforted me, and helped me to retain my cool.


    I¡¯m not alone here.


    ¡°And what would you do if they rebelled? If all of them decided that they have had enough of your rule?¡±


    ¡°Should that come to pass, then I would surely perish,¡± he stated simply. ¡°But it will not. For sheep do not bite their shepherd.¡±


    ¡°It would only take a large enough uprising to see you imprisoned, or a single bolt each to put you and your family in the grave.¡±


    The man smiled grimly and raised his arms theatrically.


    ¡°And yet, no bolt shall find their way to my heart.¡±


    ¡­ If I had gone ahead with the plan of starting a revolt, this would be the point where he had sealed his own fate in the story.


    ¡°What of heroes? Where do we fit into the story you tell yourself?¡±


    ¡°Heroes like you are those who see an opportunity and seize it. You are one of the few who can stare beyond the madness of words we use to fill the silence and catch a glimpse of the truth beneath. They do not fit into the games of men, they play in the game of gods.¡±


    I paused for a moment and gathered my thoughts. It seemed less and less like I could achieve peace here. I had tried being diplomatic, it was time to try a different approach.


    ¡°Your son Nathanael, I want him punished.¡±


    ¡°His shall have his family name summarily stripped from him. Without it, he shall have no chance to take my place after I one day perish. He is a contemptible boy. With his opportunities stripped from him, he will find no place for himself playing the ebb and flow. That is punishment enough.¡±


    ¡°If you had a daughter and a peasant tried to rape her, what punishment would she face?¡± I asked, angrily.


    ¡°The peasant would be boiled in oil.¡±


    That was a far worse punishment than I realistically expected here, but it still made my point.


    ¡°Then why do you think this is enough?¡±


    ¡°As contemptible as he is and even without his name, he is still kin to me. I will not see him dead on your whims or anyone else¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Stick him in prison then.¡±


    ¡°Doing so would besmirch my reputation.¡±


    ¡°All you are doing is shielding him from justice.¡±


    ¡°Brus is mine to rule, it is by my right alone that justice is to be determined.¡±


    Calm, Taylor, remain calm.


    It was harder than I liked. I reminded myself once more that reforming the Principate into something better was a marathon that would likely take me centuries of work, and I didn¡¯t want to mess it up at the first step.


    ¡°You wanted to know why you should negotiate with the Lycaonese?¡± I asked, doing my level best to keep the tone of my voice steady. My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. I was close to drawing blood.


    ¡°Indeed. As yet, you have made no compelling arguments.¡±


    ¡°Then let me tell you why,¡± I hissed between my teeth. ¡°You aren¡¯t fighting them, you¡¯re fighting me.¡± Prince Amaury looked dubious at the statement. ¡°I pulled their entire army through the swamp, across land that would otherwise have been unnavigable. If it comes to a fight, I¡¯ll force your entire army to stop fighting. They won¡¯t even be able to pick up their crossbows, let alone aim the bolts.¡±


    ¡°Claims with no substance,¡± he dismissed, shaking his head from side to side. ¡°Those blessed by the heavens, as you are, do not have the will to raise a sword in a battle such as this one. The clash of Princes is in the domain of mortals, not the purview of Gods. No matter how you bluster, you will not bare your blade. My forces will give battle to the Lycaonese. Most will die, but it is an acceptable loss. The Lycaonese will be forced to retreat, or not have enough soldiers to face the oncoming tide up north.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t negotiate, you will die. It won¡¯t be me. I will make your entire army stand down. Cordelia will force you to drink poison, and I will stand aside.¡± I stated bluntly.


    ¡°Even should you force a surrender, I doubt you would allow me to suffer such a demise.¡±


    ¡°I am more than fine with it. A Principality is its people. You are consigning Brus to die here, to suit your ambitions alone. I don¡¯t care if you personally fight it out with Mathilda in single combat or something along those lines, but I won¡¯t stand aside if you order your people to die.¡±


    ¡°I will take that wager, then. Opportunity, remember?¡±


    Retaining my cool was harder than I expected.


    Don¡¯t fuck this up, Taylor.


    Taking a moment to think before I responded, I focused my attention on Prince Amaury once more. The man before me had the self-satisfied smirk of someone who felt confident that he had scored a win.


    Seems I had not hidden my emotions as well as I expected after all. Years later, and it still frustrated me how hard it was to hide my tells without a swarm to push them into.


    ¡°I¡¯m giving you a chance to do the right thing,¡± I stated, doing my best to keep my voice neutral. ¡°I''m not doing it because I think you deserve it, but because it means when this is all over, I don¡¯t need to ask myself what if. So please, negotiate here. Find a peaceful solution.¡±


    I would give him every chance to save his own skin. If he chose not to, then he had nobody but himself to blame.


    ¡°Once the Lycaonese have been sent scuttling back up north, Frederic will be married off to one of the soon-to-be First Prince Dagobert¡¯s daughters. This war can only end one way.¡±


    The conversation continued. Despite my efforts, I could not convince the man to budge. Eventually, I picked up the flag and stepped out of the tent.


    Making my way to the impromptu stables, I climbed on Sisyphus before departing from the meeting place.


    What would happen if I attacked now?


    Despite meeting on neutral ground, I was still close enough to the Brussian camp to have the entire thing in range. If I waited until the fight went ahead, people might be injured. It would be more politically expedient, but would weigh more on my conscience. I knew there would likely be consequences for this. Ones that I didn¡¯t know. But I would rather do what I believed to be right now, then gamble for a better outcome.


    It was possible for me to only target the leaders, but there was no guarantee the soldiers would choose not to fight. There was also a benefit to acting on such a large scale. It was a statement. I was tired of people believing that just because I was restrained that I wasn¡¯t willing to act.


    If I didn¡¯t take a stand once, then this pattern would keep repeating itself. I did not like having to resort to threats. There was no part of me that wanted to be a tyrant or a warlord. But even if I was not planning to fill that role, people needed to understand that I had teeth.


    They were not negotiating with someone that they could walk over. They were negotiating with a mostly benevolent dragon.


    And if they crossed the invisible line, the dragon would bite.


    I did not want or expect them to just capitulate, but I expected them to at least make an effort to find compromise. I was willing to bend my neck a lot, but not all the way. The Princes should not reasonably expect me to give them whatever they desire with no cost to themselves.


    I would bring my claws down here, once. In doing so, I hoped to ensure that I need not bring them down again.


    I¡¯ll deal with the consequences later myself.


    I felt reassurance from the angels at my decision. Their approval counted for a lot. I wasn¡¯t sure if I was making the correct choice, but it was the one I felt the most comfortable with.


    Sisyphus continued to trot away. The moment I judged myself distant enough, I theatrically dropped the banner on the ground. I raised a golden domed barrier around me, then sent up a flared warning into the sky. It spelled out my intention to fight, writ large.


    Bolts started to smash uselessly against my shield. They did nothing, it was like the tickling of ants on the hide of an elephant.


    Which emotion do I want to use here?


    Any emotion, when concentrated enough, would likely be debilitating. I could settle for grief, depression, or despair, but those all felt wrong to me. They weren¡¯t who I was now, and they weren¡¯t who I wanted to be.


    Smiling, I settled on the one which seemed the most appropriate.


    It was my memory of what I felt the first time I had stared at the Choir of Compassion. It wouldn¡¯t be as concentrated as an actual angelic appearance. I could only achieve the palest of imitations. But something told me that even my facsimile would be strong enough to prevent a battle from occurring at all.


    A ghost vanished from behind me.


    I didn¡¯t want this to be confused for the real thing, so I was deliberately implanting illusions into the manifestation. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t think I would be able to add anything visually complex. The strain of doing so in addition to everything else made it untenable, so I would have to settle for something small. Like a memory of the night sky.


    Or not.


    To my surprise, I felt the attention of the angels bearing down on me. I received a vague impression of admonishment from them. It only took a moment¡¯s focus to realize what they were trying to show me.


    ¡­ An excess of compassion would have deleterious effects. Paradoxically, it would not be compassionate. Those effects ranged from self harm to suicide. Either way, without using a measured approach, I wouldn¡¯t like what occurred.


    It unsettled me that I had missed something so obvious. I allowed the angels to guide the emotional component. I didn¡¯t have the faintest hope of regulating the effect on a person by person basis, but they could. It felt like having my mother leaning over my shoulders, showing me what to do.


    I watched for a moment. It was almost as if they used my perspective of what was an acceptable outcome to judge how to shape my working. Shouldn¡¯t they be able to judge for themselves? It struck me as odd, but I put that thought to the side before turning my attention back towards the illusion. With their assistance, I could go fancy. So I set my goals just a little higher. This was meant to be a statement anyhow, so I may as well make it into one. A midnight black dome manifested around the encampment. Along the inner surface, some of my memories from clairvoyant played out.


    Not the harsh or horrible memories. Nobody deserved those. The little moments that I had glimpsed at then pushed to the side, because I was otherwise too busy at the time. Auroras near the Arctic. Forests untouched by man. Some of the more awe-inspiring cities constructed on Bet. Breathtaking vistas that had only ever been witnessed by me and clairvoyant alone.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how long it would take the soldiers to fully recover, it had taken me weeks. Filtered as it was through my memories, this wasn¡¯t anywhere near as strong. That didn¡¯t matter when it was so overwhelming that for the next few days they would feel like they had come face to face with an echo of an Angelic Choir.


    Shortly after returning to the Neustrians, Prince Amaury sent a written surrender. The orders to mount up and march were given. It took a single sighting of the Brussian camp for a solemn silence to descend. Almost every single person within the camp was in tears. None of them were willing or able to fight at all.


    I had asked the Princes to try resolving the conflict peacefully. Maybe next time, they would actually listen to me.

 Liminal 3.0a

    ¡°A great person may make their own enemies, but a greater person makes use of them.¡±


    ¨C Dread Empress Malicia the First


    <hr>


    Standing outside his place of employment, Lennox wrung his hands nervously. The narrow two-storey building loomed over him like an omen, blocking out the waxing light of the sun. It had been half a bell since the sun had risen, and his master had not yet shown up.


    He knocked on the door once more, hoping for a response.


    He was fortunate, for someone from a farmer¡¯s background. The local scribe, a well off elderly man rumoured to be well past his sixtieth summer, had lacked an apprentice. Not only were scribes rumoured to be paid well, they did not need to toil in the fields. Lennox had been a sickly child, youngest out of all his siblings, and struggled to toil under the sun.


    Fearing for his own future, he had searched for an escape from his allotment in life.


    It had taken much begging to wear down the misanthropic man¡¯s patience, but eventually his efforts had born fruit. The man had taken him on as an apprentice. As a master, he was overbearing and strict, but Lennox had persevered. He had to, for he could not stomach the alternative.


    Quickly he had learned. Letters and Numbers, how to perform his sums. As he showed a deftness for the work, his master¡¯s attitude towards him had slowly thawed. The bond between them had grown and, gradually, he had been entrusted with greater responsibility.


    To his surprise, Lennox had found himself almost pleased with the fate he had carved for himself. He earned a steady keep, more than enough to satisfy his family. He worked shorter hours and did not need to break his back under the sun. It seemed almost as if the gates of the future stood wide open and one day, he could move from apprentice to scribe.


    If he were lucky, he might even come to serve under a benevolent lord or lady.


    There was only one tear he wished he could stitch closed. His family hated him. He glimpsed it in the hardening of their gazes whenever he returned to the hearth. They suffered his presence due to the good fortune he brought with him, but it was not for who he was, but the coin he earned.


    Many a night he spent trying to water the fields of familial bonds and hope the bruising would fade. To his dismay, time did naught but deepen it.


    Pacing back and forth before the door, he eyed the flower beds guiltily. His master would be most wroth with him were he to ruin the flowers, but the shutters loomed above. Mustering up his resolve, he gingerly stepped over the petunias before peering through the shutters. There was no movement inside.


    He waited two more hours before eventually returning to his family. Maybe his master was out for the day, and hadn¡¯t thought to inform him?


    <hr>


    It took another week before the truth came to light. His master had finally succumbed to the passage of time. With his passing, the local lord had looked past their lands to hire a new scribe. Lennox had once more petitioned to serve as an apprentice, only this time his approach had been snubbed.


    The new scribe had an apprentice of his own.


    Worse, he was viewed by the apprentice as a looming threat. The girl had hired thugs to threaten him. When they moved to strike him, he had suffered the injustice in silence. Lennox abhorred violence and would not move to inflict it on others were he given the chance. The ruffians had beaten him and left him bruised in a dirty side alley. The message had been carved into his flesh. Were he to attempt to ply his trade, the well of his life would run out of ink.


    He tried to protest the mistreatment, but his words had gone unheard.


    Bitterly, he had returned to his brothers and sisters. It was certain the news would be ill received.


    <hr>


    The night had grown darker than he feared.


    Through no fault of his own, his family was most wroth with him. In light of his much diminished circumstances, his father¡¯s gambling debts were now baying at their doorstep. None of them had known of the coin he owed, but blood had been shed at the reveal. Much of the good fortune he had showered upon their home had been poured into that hungry abyss. His father had shed thrones like water, and now the tap had run dry.


    It was then that moneylenders had arrived to collect.


    Lennox found himself breaking his back in the fields once more. Work that he had long grown unaccustomed to, was expected of him once more. With each day, he grew more and more weary. His coughs had returned to him, and it seemed as if the ledger of his life was soon to close.


    Then, when he had thought that no further ill fortune could haunt him, a much darker shadow had cast itself over his shoulders. Like a pall on a plague victim, the lord¡¯s recruiters had fallen upon him.


    War, war, they declared.


    And so, against the keening cry of his soul, he found himself marching to the fields of blood and steel.


    Despite his misgivings against violence, he dared not protest the call to war. He sensed that were he to do so, his life would come to a close.


    A seed of hatred had planted itself within him.


    It mattered not that he was sickly, nor that his hands had never held a blade. Iron was shoved into his palms, and so iron he learned to wield. He moved from field to field in the service of Arsene, bearing witness to many a tragedy. Year after year, lives were reaped like grain at the harvest. From the borders of Aisne, to Cantel, to Iserre, to Orne he marched and fought, his soul spilling out of him as he laboured on.


    Seasons passed, and with them, Lennox¡¯s hatred only grew. Hatred for the war, hatred for the Princes, hatred for the world, hatred for himself. It festered within him, spreading like ink spilled across a page. He came to fear that were he to keep fighting, then one day it would consume him. The abyss yawned before him, calling out. He knew, with but a step, all he would do was fall.


    So he ran.


    Deserting with two companions, they sought to find employment elsewhere. To their dismay, despite discarding any signs of their former allegiance, they still stood out in a crowd. It was the scars from blades having marked their flesh that identified them for what they were, deserters. Few would dare trade with them, and those that would were of ill repute.


    None but those with dark intentions would offer them shelter, or the opportunity to ply their trade.


    He offered to serve as a scribe, but found himself turned down.


    With time, they grew more and more desperate.


    It was then that the seed of hatred that had long been planted finally started to germinate. The abyss beckoned and so Lennox finally fell.


    They took to banditry on the roadside. Never claiming more than what they required to live, but still enough to damn them. Lennox¡¯s heart had grown cold. The world had rejected him, so why should he not return the favour?


    For a time they lived well enough. It was neither clean nor honest work, but it was purer of purpose than fighting under the command of the Prince. They fought not to empower a baseless ruler, but instead for the sole purpose of survival alone.


    Until that fateful night on an otherwise empty road, when they set themselves upon two lone travellers. Two youths, a boy and a girl. Once, Lennox would have felt sorrow at their misfortune, but the voice of peace within him had long since been trampled out.


    Events did not come to pass as the ledger of life demanded. An explosion of light, blinding. Disorientated, Lysander had perished with a blade rammed through the throat by the one-armed witch. Moments later, the witch struck out once more. Renault¡¯s life was claimed by the workings of an amateur sorcerer. Deciding to cut his losses, Lennox had high tailed it. Alone, he had taken to wandering north.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He found himself shaken. Perhaps under Princess Constance rather than Arsene, the madness would finally end? Crossing over to Aisne, he found work for a time as a hired guard. However, his reprieve was short-lived. Princess Constance was claimed by the disease that had come to ravage this land and with her passing, the final embers of his hope had guttered out.


    For in the aftermath of her demise, the mania simply grew.


    Slowly, it dawned on Lennox that until someone took a stand against the baseness of the Princes, the darkness would only propagate like seeds on the wind.


    The heart of Aisne was the closest Lennox had been to the poison that had taken his land for some time.


    It was a city where the wound had festered in full. The mask covering the rot that ruled over them had been cast aside, and the hallowed out visage of want stood starkly visible for all to see. The nobles schemed and backstabbed openly, as their kind were wont to do, and it was the people under them who bore the price.


    The nobles never suffered the cost of their madness.


    No, doing so would be uncouth.


    For their place in the world was not under the tip of the quill, instead it was holding the stem.


    It was too much. All of it was too much. For too long, the people had played the part of the victim. It could go on no longer. Lennox had reached the end of his rope. From a distance, he watched one of the arrogant youths that dared to claim they had the right to rule. The upstart brat brought down the heel of his boot metaphorically on the neck of one of the local tavern owners. The man had the audacity to offer tribute to one of the opposing lords.


    It was nought that Lennox had not seen before, but the cup of hatred could only hold so much before the rest spilled over.


    Drawing his blade once more, he planted it between the lordling¡¯s ribs and his attendants soon after. As the man let out his final breath, stained as it was with blood, Lennox found that his purpose had finally dawned upon him.


    The hands that had writ the world had not cast it as fair. The lives of men were not given equal treatment, but there was nought which claimed that the cast of the world could not be changed.


    Lennox would find the oil and light the torches, then cleanse the rot from Calernia. His task was not a small undertaking. Much work would be needed to burn out the corruption from root to stem. This did not deter him. For was it not taken as fact that all worthy callings were the works of ages?


    And could there be a higher purpose than purging the filth that had seeded itself up top? When a farmer finds that the crop is rotten, it is not left so that the malaise may spread, but instead burned to the ground.


    It was a monumental task, but one that Lennox had taken upon himself.


    He would do unto the world as the world had done to him. He would give birth to the revolution, and see that all those who would claim to rule were cast down among the people they crushed underfoot. From petty tyrants, to kings, to the Gods themselves if need be. For only once others saw the world in the same light he did, could the task of shaping it fairly truly begin.


    Lennox was the Revolutionary.


    All that remained was for him to set off the spark that would ignite the flames.


    <hr>


    Like all harvests, first he seeded his efforts in the soil. Lennox found the people best suited to fit his purpose and positioned them where they were called for. He may have spent many years plying his blade for Prince Arsene, but not all of that time had been spent learning the art of war. Before his hope had guttered out, he had bartered for time with engineers, scribes and quartermasters. Gradually, the lay of what he knew had expanded.


    It would be hubris for him to claim to be an expert at any one task. Fortunately, it was not required for him to be. He could interpret the shape of each craft well enough to judge who would be better suited than himself to carry out the required roles.


    And unearthing those he needed was not the challenge it could be, when Lennox could see what lay beneath their fa?ade.


    He delved the earth for those like him. The bitter, the downtrodden, the ones ground down by the heel of a lordling¡¯s boot. Once they had been found, he began to scribe his own words into them, fanning the embers of their anger into raging infernos.


    Lennox took on anyone who had the spark, no matter the measure of their skill. Those with no talents were taught to fight, for with time any could wield a spear. Those who came with learned proficiencies he convinced to take on essential roles. Step by step, in the forgotten corners of Aisne, his army began to take shape.


    A force unlike any other.


    When their first strike came, their so-called lords were caught completely unaware. This came as no surprise, for how could their rulers tell them apart? They looked no different from the other peasants. Their members wore the same clothes and carried out the same tasks day by day. By all outward appearances, they lived ordinary lives.


    So it went that the boot came down, indiscriminately striking out at all below.


    And the Revolutionary smiled.


    For it came to pass that with each of their brethren who were struck, four innocents were caught in the carnage. For each innocent that was struck from the ledger of life, one more family tied itself to his cause.


    And so the revolution continued to grow.


    He found those with a penchant for violence and stoked the embers of their fire. Those who would stand aside peacefully¡­ Well, there was much to incite.


    The guards came down on peasants, then the peasants came down on guards. Beatings were repaid by crucifixions, deaths with gradual torture. And as his movement gained momentum, the understanding slowly spread. It was then that in the minds of those like him that the realization finally blossomed. There was nothing special about those above, so why not cast them below.


    Then one fateful day, the Revolutionary let himself into his quarters and came face to face with a faceless man seated beside his desk. He looked, and he looked, but no matter how he tried, he could not determine the mien of the man¡¯s visage. See helped him not at all, it was as if there was nought to glean. Frustrated, he focused on the figure¡¯s fingers instead.


    ¡°Lennox. Revolutionary,¡± the man stated.


    ¡°Tell me, stranger, by what name would you have yourself be known as?¡± Lennox asked. Something about the man unsettled him, but Lennox tried to push it aside.


    ¡°Do you wish to live?¡±


    ¡°This residence is not your own. Answer my questions or perish, trespasser,¡± Lennox demanded.


    ¡°You are a villain living in a heroes land. Your time grows short. Even now, the vultures circle.¡±


    With every word that passed through the stranger¡¯s lips, Lennox¡¯s unease grew.


    ¡°I ask once more, by what name should I call you?¡± Lennox repeated, licking his lips.


    ¡°I am the Assassin,¡± the monster said.


    Before he knew it, Lennox had drawn his blade. The creature remained unmoved.


    ¡°Sheath your blade,¡± it said, it¡¯s tone flat. ¡°I am not here to kill you.¡±


    ¡°What is it that you wish from me, then?¡± Lennox asked, his legs wobbling. Slowly, he sat down on his bed. His blade remained unsheathed, pointed towards his foe.


    ¡°A hero will come to the city of Aisne. The Aspirant. It could be soon, it could be years.¡±


    ¡°By what means do you glean the lay of fate?¡±


    ¡°When she comes, you will die. You aren¡¯t able to face her. She is a demon, calling herself a hero. Your weapons will not hurt her.¡± The Assassin continued to talk, speaking as if Lennox was not even truly there.


    ¡°And what purpose would you have me undertake?¡±


    ¡°You are destined to fight her. Without help, you will die. The question is, how much help do you want?¡±


    <hr>


    The Revolutionary made his departure from the city of Aisne. He could not judge the true measure of the Calamity¡¯s words, but he would heed them regardless.


    Although, he had drawn a different conclusion than the one they wished him to learn. They were merely a different breed of snake, no different from the ones that ruled the in the lands he currently walked. He would not cast off the chains of one master merely to accept the chains of another. He did not know how many years his quest would take, but he would cast aside the net of time and see the Calamities all torn down, much like he would unseat the Princes.


    The book of the future had not yet been written, but it was his hand that would wield the quill.


    His Role was not one that required him to be there when the kingdom burned down, only when the first spark was struck. The stage was set for the house of cards to collapse.


    The song of suffering called to him sweetly, and he had set his sights somewhere else.


    The Aspirant and the Calamities could trade blows with each other over the ashes of the rotten corpse he had consigned to the pyre. No matter which way the wind blew, the fall of Aisne was writ in stone.


    What had yet to be determined, was where the tread of his soles should take him to?


    Wandering from Principality to Principality had potential to bear fruit, but Lennox doubted the wisdom of doing so. For if it were true that he was a hunted man, then better to escape the sights of the predator and begin somewhere else anew.


    For he was not tied to any land or people, merely a desire to see it all burn down.


    It came to him then. Mercantis, that was where he would plant the seeds of freedom.


    The boot was hard on the neck of the people there, which made stoking the fires of rebellion all the easier.


    One day, all would become dust.

 Liminal 3.05

    ¡°The priests claim that saving one soul is to save all of Creation. Too bad for them that I would rather be a spendthrift than a miser.¡±


    ¨D Dread Empress Massacre I


    <hr>


    Riding through the last segment of swamp towards the city of Brus took longer than I thought it would. We marched at a snail''s pace in formation. Our prisoners were escorted in front of our procession. Out of all the Lycaonese forces, ours had taken the longest to arrive. This was despite having been ahead of the other Lycaonese armies. Managing over four thousand catatonic prisoners turned out to be the kind of logistical nightmare that nobody except me was expecting to have.


    Yvette sat in front of me. It was uncomfortable, but I was willing to put up with it. The girl was not important enough to rate a mount of her own. I wasn¡¯t going to make her just walk around in the mud. Sisyphus would just have to cope.


    ¡°Look over there can you see those kingfishers sitting on the roof? And over there look at all those fish do you think we will need to eat fish again tonight I¡¯m getting tired of fish.¡± She leaned forward and pointed as she spoke.


    My mount turned around and stared balefully at the two of us.


    ¡°Start telling me what I taught you.¡±


    ¡°Do I have to there is so much to see I just want to talk about it.¡±


    ¡°You wanted me to teach you magic.¡±


    ¡°Symbolism is an important part of magic especially when doing more complex workings which is confusing because it depends on where you are for example yew trees mean life in northern Callow-¡±


    ¡°Death,¡± I interrupted her. ¡°They symbolize death. It''s because of the Deoraithe. Their longbows are made from yew.¡±


    ¡°Right they mean death,¡± she mumbled under her breath.


    ¡°And why is it important?¡±


    ¡°Workings will be weaker or stronger or even possible to start with depending on symbolism for example you could probably use yew to enchant arrows so they are sharper or something like that or to curse someone with death from a distance I don¡¯t know can we talk about something else.¡±


    ¡°Not just yet. You mentioned enchanting. Tell me about different materials.¡±


    ¡°Using the right materials to achieve the right results also plays a vital role for example how lead has properties of grounding and cold iron weakens magic¡­¡±


    I continued to listen with one ear as we made our way forwards. Every so often, I would prompt her with a question before continuing.


    Messengers had been sent out in advance of our arrival. They had informed both the Prince of Rhenia and Klaus Papenheim about the aftermath of our fight. Having Prince Amaury¡¯s formal surrender had made the situation both easier and more complicated to manage.


    Our procession was looked at fearfully. Marching like this was uncomfortable, but I understood the need for it. All the Northern Principalities had done the same. It was a statement. They were showing they were united in purpose. They were all working to put Cordelia Hasenbach in the seat of First Prince.


    That didn¡¯t make it any less of a chore. We were all expected to wear uniforms. I was not an official part of the army. Sadly, my status as a mercenary didn¡¯t mean that there wasn¡¯t an official garb I was expected to wear. I had learned that only a few days after I had agreed to help Cordelia. One of her functionaries had delivered a set of elaborate dresses to me. The clothing came complete with frills and ruffles. It was also stamped with the Lycaonese Wolf. I swear they stuck the symbol on everything.


    The dresses were impractical to fight in. I had raised the issue. That wasn¡¯t enough to escape from the responsibility of wearing them. I was told they were official court garb for a member of Cordelia¡¯s retinue.


    There was nothing stopping me from protesting the issue further. I had decided not to since I was working alongside her. I would put up with the dresses, so long as she didn¡¯t expect me to wear them when I wasn¡¯t part of a major procession.


    Sisyphus carried me on the right-hand side of the procession. I was positioned in a way so that I was not entirely a part of it. The reverent stares of some troops bored holes into my back. Somebody called out. It was a title. I focused on them. It was two people talking from the side of the procession. They weren¡¯t asking for me, only talking loudly to a friend. I turned away.


    Sovereign of the Ardent Dreams.


    That was what they were calling me. The title was concerning. There were a substantial number of story strings attached to it. I also wasn¡¯t entirely pleased with the title itself. It made me sound like some kind of prostitute. The title had caught on after the Brussians told the Neustrians what I had done. Seeing an entire army incapacitated due to religious bliss was apparently enough to convince them that I was Above¡¯s answer to the Warlock. They had gone ahead and given me a similarly ostentatious title to mirror his own.


    I had tried to correct the soldier¡¯s assumptions. It didn¡¯t matter. The name had already caught on. It didn¡¯t help that news of my clash with the Sovereign of the Red Skies was well known. Even surviving an encounter with the Warlock was considered to be a win by many. I certainly didn¡¯t feel that way. I was reasonably sure that with sufficient time to prepare, the man would trounce me with next to no effort at all. He had plenty of time to come up with the perfect box to put me in now that he was aware of my existence.


    That did nothing to dispel the high I was riding. The smile on my face had probably been there for a few days at this point. I hadn¡¯t bothered trying to suppress it. It was nice being appreciated for having done something simply good.


    I was sure that the people in charge weren¡¯t happy about it, but the soldiers certainly were. None of them were looking forward to losing friends or family.


    I¡¯d even heard a mother from among the camp followers tell her kid not to worry because, ¡°the Sovereign of the Ardent Dreams will chase away any nightmares.¡±


    My actual Name was less well known.


    I was sure that there would be repercussions. There was almost certainly something I could have done better. That didn¡¯t make me feel any less happy about it. Being able to go to sleep after doing something momentous and not have to worry about nightmares felt so good.


    I did my best to ignore the reverent looks and instead focused on the town we were passing through.


    It was constructed in a shallow region of swampland. There were roads built on long sections of dry land. Most of the houses were made of wood and built on stilts that had been raised out of the bog. They were strewn between different islands. The islands were all connected by narrow bridges. I imagined from above that they looked like stars in the night sky. Groups of raised landmasses that had been clustered loosely into constellations.


    There were patchwork walls that barely counted as a defence. Large blocks of limestone that were stacked haphazardly and then joined together with mortar served as a barrier into the region. There was nothing else built with the material nearby. It was likely to be imported from somewhere else. The makeshift wall blocked off parts of the swamp that were shallow enough to cross. The city¡¯s inhabitants hadn¡¯t bothered to wall off the deeper sections. It didn¡¯t surprise me. Those could only be entered by boat.


    Armies of small fishing boats made their way out onto the swamp water. I had been told that fishing was a big industry here. My eyes roamed over the teeming fleets of boats. It certainly looked that way.


    We kept moving closer towards the city of Brus. Our mounts crossed out of the swampland and onto solid ground.


    The city finally became visible through the canopies of trees. Cordelia had long since taken it.


    Prince Amaury truly had stripped away almost all the city¡¯s defenders to fight against us. Only the bare skeleton of a garrison had remained behind. Taking the place had been nothing more than a formality. This would have been true even without his surrender. If Cordelia¡¯s coalition had been forced into sieging the place, it would have fallen in a matter of hours.


    There simply wasn¡¯t enough manpower around to defend it.


    We made our way across two more islands and arrived at the mainland. Most of the army was pulled away by the arrival of Klaus. Those of us remaining headed towards the city itself. I had been directed towards the palace. It was an easy building to identify. It was one of the few buildings made almost entirely out of painted white stone.


    I paused in my journey and took a moment to drink in the view.


    The palace sprawled out and occupied an obscene amount of lateral space. It was contained within a walled off compound. There were rows of carefully maintained apple trees leading up to the gated entrance. Three stone towers reached up like fingers towards the sky.


    Sisyphus started to move forward again after I dug in my knees. We arrived at the gate not long after. A servant let us in.


    My boots hit the ground. I handed the reins of my mount to a stable attendant not long after. I took a moment to ask for directions. Without them, I was almost certain to end up lost. Leaving the stables, I made my way through extravagant doors into the palace itself.


    Yvette followed behind. Eventually, she split off from me at what would apparently be our temporary quarters. I was led elsewhere.


    Moving through corridors of the palace took some time. The structure was a maze of stairways and passages. They were decorated with extravagant tapestries and carpets. A servant guided the way. Not long after entering the building, I reached my destination. The door to the room we stopped at was shut. I could hear the murmuring of voices from inside. Opening it, I stepped in.


    Seated in the parlour on a comfortable chair was Cordelia Hasenbach. She was hunched over a desk and appeared to be carefully sorting through one of many piles of letters. They were stacked neatly in rows. Each pile was weighted down. Shadowing Cordelia were two guards. She looked up as I entered.


    ¡°Please be seated. Our discussion will commence shortly.¡±


    There were two chairs on the opposite side of the desk. I sat on the one closer to the stained-glass window. On it was a depiction of chubby naked sexless sprites putting a crown on someone¡¯s head.


    ¡°They don¡¯t look like that,¡± I muttered under my breath.


    ¡°You have observed the cherubim?¡±


    ¡°I have. They don¡¯t really look like anything. It¡¯s easier to describe them in terms of impressions.¡± I smiled fondly. ¡°They are like family to me. They are always there for you. If I was to describe them physically¡­ I¡¯d say they are like a sea of lights radiating warmth in an ocean of darkness.¡±


    Their perspective might have been completely inhuman, but that didn¡¯t really matter. Family members didn¡¯t need to all think the same thoughts, just be there for each other. They had chosen me, and I was happy to stick with them.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain that many of the priests in the House of Light would find the very idea blasphemous.¡±


    ¡°They would be wrong. The Choir of Compassion certainly doesn¡¯t mind. They would adopt everyone if they could get away with it.¡±


    Cordelia said nothing in response.


    Despite it being just after noon, the light in the room was still dim. She kept leafing through letters, otherwise ignoring my presence. I squinted at them. It was difficult to see in such poor light. Now that I was closer, I could make out what they were. Most of them appeared to be accounts and bills of sale. As she read over them, she made annotations on another page.


    The clanging of metal boots on stone disrupted my mental wandering. The door opened again. An unfairly handsome youth was escorted in by some of Cordelia¡¯s guards. Despite looking to be about fourteen to fifteen years old, it was obvious that with time he was only going to become more appealing to look at. He wore extravagant clothing. It was obvious to me that he was someone important.


    He looked around wildly as he entered the room. His blue eyes roamed over me and dismissed me entirely. The expression on his face gave the impression that he felt he was taking a step onto the gallows.


    Cordelia looked up again.


    ¡°Do you intend to have your Chosen force me to confront the Angels as well?¡± the boy said bitterly. He tossed his fair hair from side to side as he spoke.


    He ignored me entirely. Clearly he didn¡¯t realize who I was.


    ¡°The Aspirant has already been castigated for her actions.¡± Cordelia informed him. She didn¡¯t even look my way. Neither did she make any indication as to my identity.


    That was news to me.


    Why is she making me watch this?


    I didn¡¯t know who this boy was. Despite being singled out, I felt that this drama didn¡¯t actually concern me at all.


    ¡°My uncle¡¯s defeat was foul. It was dealt to him by sorceries from afar. There was no honour in his loss. Would that he have faced your troops on the field of battle instead. Denouncing the Chosen does not undo this.¡± the boy declared.


    Wait, this kid was upset because I prevented a slaughter?


    ¡°And her actions were not sanctioned, neither by me nor by Princess Mathilda,¡± Cordelia replied, turning over a page as she did so.


    ¡­ That was only technically true. It would be more accurate to say that I hadn¡¯t asked for permission. If I had done so, I would likely have been told to go right ahead with my plan.


    ¡° Would you have her face high justice then?¡± the boy challenged.


    ¡°I invite you to petition the House of Light on the matter,¡± Cordelia answered drily. ¡°Do you believe they would stand idly by while the attempt is made to execute one of their own? Especially since no harm was done to any of your men.¡±


    Wait, what?


    ¡°And so justice goes unfulfilled.¡± His tone was flat. The boy sounded as if he expected nothing else.


    Cordelia changed the topic then.


    ¡°In other matters,¡± she told him in a pleasant tone of voice, ¡°Nathanael Goethal was fourteen thousand thrones in debt to the Pravus Bank. Your uncle¡¯s debts were even deeper.¡±


    The picture was starting to piece itself together. I didn¡¯t know who the boy was. Actually, maybe I did. Prince Amaury had mentioned a name. Frederick, wasn¡¯t it? It was likely the boy was his heir. The Prince had been made to drink poison after his defeat.


    I didn¡¯t like killing one''s enemies being an accepted part of the Proceran succession. In my mind, it encouraged the Princes to show no restraint. If they knew they were going to die, then why hold anything back? Despite that, I was willing to make an exception for Prince Amaury.


    The man had actually earned his death.


    I didn¡¯t know what had happened to Nathanael. It was likely that he had died as well. I had no proof of that other than suspicion alone. I expected him to be in this room with us. He wasn¡¯t. That was enough to convince me that he was probably dead.


    ¡°I owe no debts,¡± the youth replied.


    ¡°You would owe one,¡± Cordelia Hasenbach coolly corrected.


    ¡°I would not swear myself to the woman who orchestrated my uncle¡¯s defeat in such an unseemly fashion,¡± the boy snapped back. His muscled arms clenched as spoke.


    ¡°You misunderstand me, Frederic Goethal,¡± the Prince of Rhenia said. She brushed a strand of golden hair out of her eyes in the process.


    ¡°A crown is not a privilege,¡± Cordelia Hasenbach calmly declared, ¡°it is a duty. You will owe a debt to your people. A debt to Procer itself. See that it is paid back in full, Prince Frederic.¡±


    The two of them continued to verbally spar. I listened with one ear as they did so. Slowly, I was coming to understand what Cordelia was trying to show me. She had lost a potential ally here. It was likely he would have sided with her if I hadn¡¯t chosen to fight. The conversation was important, but most of it was lost on me. My attention started to drift.


    I focused on the stacks of correspondence once more. My gaze eventually settled on two of them. The sheets on top of both were marked with my name.


    <ul style="text-align: justify">


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Taylor ¨C communications.</li>


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    <ul style="text-align: justify">


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Taylor ¨C politics.</li>


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    The first pile was small. It would contain news from her informants about Roland¡¯s whereabouts. The second heap was huge. The top of the pile was just below eye level. It teetered on the edge of falling over and somehow remained standing upright. I expected that the stack contained Cordelia¡¯s efforts to uphold our agreement. The urge to reach over and grab them both came over me. I suppressed it. There was no need to hurry. I could read over it all later.


    With some effort, I brought my focus back onto the discussion. It took a while longer before their argument concluded, but eventually Frederick was escorted out.


    A servant brought in a pot of tea and two cups on a tray. It took some effort to make space for both on the desk. Somehow, they managed. They left after pouring both of us cups. Both of us picked up our cups and inhaled the fragrant aroma before taking a sip.


    There was a moment of tranquillity in the room. It didn¡¯t last for long before conversation picked up again.


    ¡°I take it that the lesson I am attempting to impart has sunk in?¡± Cordelia asked.


    ¡°Yeah. He¡¯s upset because of what I did.¡±


    ¡°That is not precisely the case. Prince Frederick has a strong seasoning of na?vet¨¦ to his character. He truly believes in the duty of Princes and would find no fault with the purpose you strive for.¡±


    ¡°Then why is he angry?¡±


    ¡°Prince Frederick also values the appearance of honour. Great fights between Princes on the field of battle play a part in that. For the outcome of the clash to have been determined at your hand instead has undermined that belief.¡±


    ¡°There is nothing honourable about it. The idea is a lie.¡±


    ¡°Nonetheless, it is what the boy has been taught.¡±


    ¡°Then what should I have done?¡±


    She paused for only a heartbeat. I still caught it.


    ¡°You should have found a solution that preserved the cultural expectations of the Princes of Procer. This situation can be salvaged, but I would have preferred an outcome where it need not be.¡±


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Don¡¯t let this sour your good mood today.


    ¡°How would I do that?¡± I challenged. She probably wanted me to allow the fight to go ahead.


    ¡°You once used duels as an example of something you would be capable of enforcing. You were fully capable of arranging for a duel between one Prince and the other. Once the fight began, you could subtly tip the scales in Prince Mathilda¡¯s favour. This would have achieved the desired outcome.¡±


    It amused me how careful she was being in how she worded what she said. She might not have proposed letting the fight go ahead, but there was no way she didn¡¯t think it. I didn¡¯t need her to agree with my views on politics. Expecting her to would be unreasonable. That didn¡¯t mean I needed to leave the situation as is. Perhaps I could help her understand where I was coming from?


    ¡°Can I show you something?¡±


    She looked up from the papers before her, her eyes narrowing on me in thought.


    ¡°That depends on the nature of what you wish to demonstrate.¡±


    ¡°I want to show you some of my memories. It will only be pictures, sounds, and smells, but it should be enough.¡±


    ¡°Explain to me why I should entertain this request.¡±


    ¡°Perspective.¡±


    ¡°You will have to elaborate what you mean by that. You have a penchant for single word responses where you assume that much additional context is inferred by the interlocutor.¡±


    ¡°We come from different places. They are different worlds. Knowing that isn¡¯t enough to understand. Let me show you the difference.¡±


    I hoped she didn¡¯t refuse. While I doubted she would come to share the same opinions as me, it would at least help properly contextualize our conversations. I was in her world, interacting with cultures, opinions, and beliefs formed in response to its rules. That didn¡¯t mean I had a good understanding of Calernia, but I had a better impression than having no impression at all.


    ¡°What do you hope to achieve in doing so?¡±


    ¡°To make working together easier. There are things neither of the two of us are ever going to agree on. Some you can probably guess, others we will work out. I want to give you a frame of reference. We keep talking past each other, instead of to each other. I¡¯m trying to fix that.¡±


    ¡°You have my permission to show me what you believe I need to see.¡±


    I started to manipulate the light in the parlour. Slowly, a scene from my memories coalesced. Thousands upon thousands of hexagons, spread across innumerable worlds. I filled in for the other senses next. The blasting of offensive powers. The smell of blood and smoke. It was impossible to truly capture the fight. This was especially true considering how many additional senses I had at the time. I was showing Cordelia at best an approximation of the conflict. But as a demonstration, it would have to do.


    ¡°This was what the end of my world looked like,¡± I began. ¡°I can¡¯t provide you with the true experience. Even if I could, I wouldn¡¯t. This is enough. If every person on Calernia died right now, it would be only a fraction of the scale of the tragedy you are watching. It wouldn¡¯t make the death of everyone here any less awful, but the comparison helps to contextualize.¡±


    Cordelia said nothing in response. She simply watched as the scene played out.


    I started a new slideshow as the first came to a close. This time I panned through memories of places on Earth Bet. The sound of cars at rush hour, time spent flying on Atlas, walking on the Boardwalk with Lisa. Some select moments from my time in Chicago. Some of those memories had sadly grown hazy. Time really was the greatest devil of them all.


    It hurt to think about. I could no longer remember what my mom really looked like. I knew that I probably looked like her. But knowing that wasn¡¯t the same as being able to see her or hear her voice.


    How many thousands of people that I would come to love would I forget before my dreams were realised?


    ¡°This was what my home looked like before the end. There were ups and down to it. It definitely wasn¡¯t all perfect. We had Endbringers to worry about. You don¡¯t, but you have your own problems. Our heroes lost more often than we won. No matter what we did, it felt like we were incapable of stopping the eventual collapse.¡±


    I let the images fade away.


    ¡°I¡¯m immortal. Old age is not going to kill me. I think you already know that, but I am not sure if you understand what that means. You talked about the benefits of long term planning for stable governance. I¡¯m not planning for a single lifetime. I¡¯m planning for forever. The question of what the world will look like in a thousand years isn¡¯t academic for me. I¡¯m actually going to be there, and I want people¡¯s lives to be better. I want there to be no villains. The policies and ideas I talked about aren¡¯t new. They existed in my world. I don¡¯t expect them to work perfectly here, but that¡¯s okay because that isn¡¯t what I am trying to do. That¡¯s why I came to you for help. I need a way to achieve the same ends with acceptable means. So tell me, Cordelia, what kind of world do you want to make?¡±


    ¡°Are you the one responsible for Constance¡¯s Scar?¡± Cordelia asked, her voice taking on a hard edge.


    Well, my first attempt at a heroic speech failed.


    It hadn¡¯t occurred to me that the Gnomes would be the first detail she would take away from what I showed her.


    ¡°I arrived there. The Gnomes deciding to bomb it after I left had nothing to do with me.¡±


    ¡°That is a convenient story.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the truth. I doubt I¡¯d be a hero if I killed a city.¡±


    I realised how wrong I was the moment the words left my mouth. There were numerous Calernian heroes who did hurt lots of people. My experience with heroism was vastly unrepresentative. Compared to many of the others I heard about, I was the nice hero.


    ¡°There are numerous cases of heroes having done just that.¡±


    ¡°Think about what you know about me. Would I kill an army?¡±


    She continued to examine my face.


    ¡°I will consider the subject of Constance¡¯s Scar further.¡±


    ¡°Can I read those letters?¡± I asked, pointing at the piles.


    ¡°They were set aside for you to peruse.¡±


    I picked up both of the stacks and carefully moved them to my side of the table. Lifting the first page, I squinted.


    Why is Cordelia reading in the dark anyhow?


    Irritably, I created a ball of soft light overhead. My eyes roamed over the text. It took me a while to work my way through it all. Roland had been briefly spotted in the lands of Brus months past, before making his way further south. There wasn¡¯t more recent news on his whereabouts. I was positive about my chances of finding him despite that. With Cordelia¡¯s information network, it was only a matter of time until he was located.


    I swear when I find him, I will find a way to make his life difficult.


    It struck me that he hadn¡¯t kept in contact with his girlfriend. The one he had been planning to marry. I couldn¡¯t even remember her name properly. It had been a long time. Melisandre, wasn¡¯t it? When I found him, I¡¯d drag him all the way back to her so she could give him a piece of her mind. He should know better than to just go off on an adventure without keeping in contact with his friends.


    I put aside the correspondence and turned to the larger pile. To my surprise, part of what she had put together was a thorough examination of why Cordelia believed that democracy could not work. I hadn¡¯t asked that of her.


    ¡°Why did you work on this?¡± I waved it at her.


    ¡°If we are to work together in the long term, it is imperative that you understand why specific reforms are not feasible. Consider this added detail to be a gesture of goodwill.¡±


    I turned my attention back to what she had written.


    It started with the obvious. Most of the peasants were uneducated. They wouldn¡¯t be able to make informed decisions. That would result in them voting in bad leaders. Her treatise moved on from there. It asserted that even if they were all educated, the logistics of organizing voting just wouldn¡¯t work.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t scrying make this possible?¡±


    ¡°Having wizards that can Scry would only alleviate the problem. You would still need to set up a system to both organize and count votes. Adding more chains of authority would sidestep the issue, but it would also introduce more points where the process could be interfered with.¡±


    I turned back to her written arguments. Other concerns were brought up as well. She considered the issue of individuals who by their very nature were more powerful than others. Wizards, Priests, Heroes, and Villains. I was dubious of those arguments. Neither Bellerophan nor the Principate itself could exist if they were as overblown as she made them out to be.


    It stood out to me that it didn¡¯t seem like she truly understood how Names worked. I knew that I had only a half formed understanding. Being self-taught, I was sure to be making mistakes. Even that was more complete than what Cordelia appeared to know. The subject would be raised when I was done reading. It was important she understood how Names fit into the world, or somewhere down the line she would make a dangerous mistake.


    I continued to skim through her arguments about democracy, then moved onto her proposed alternatives. One model she outlined employed a three-way joint rulership of the Principate between a Prince, a member of the clergy and a sorcerer. She didn¡¯t give the idea itself much credence, but it was still interesting to look at.


    I had to suppress an urge to snort at a rant about the dangers of allowing priests near power. It had been neatly crossed out, but it still made her just a bit more relatable.


    Cordelia¡¯s eventual conclusion was disappointing, but understandable. She felt that another system could not function without changing other factors within the Principate first.


    Setting them aside, I moved onto her proposed ideas on how to improve the lives of the peasantry. There were lots of details. Projected costs, plans that both accounted for my presence and the absence of it. Unfortunately, the documents were mostly written in shorthand. They contained references to page numbers of books, and recommendations of specific advisors I should speak to.


    ¡°Can you explain this?¡± I asked, passing a page across to her.


    ¡°I would be surprised if you were capable of decoding what I wrote,¡± Cordelia mused. She looked up from the leave and turned my way. ¡°These proposals are still in the planning stages. Unlike the arguments I outlined for or against different systems of governance, I believe these can actually be implemented.¡±


    ¡°And those ideas are?¡­¡±


    ¡°Many proposals relating to urban planning. Recommendations on where to locate centres of education. A detailed analysis of the costs and benefits of educating the peasantry. I concluded that the end result can be justified.¡±


    ¡°You say that as if there are good reasons not to.¡±


    ¡°Depending on your long term objectives, there are excellent reasons not to.¡±


    ¡­ In the interest of avoiding another argument, I left that statement alone. It seemed I would be getting what I wanted anyhow. There was no need to fight over it.


    ¡°Why do most of the plans not account for my presence?¡±


    ¡°I am not prepared to undertake civil reforms on this scale with a single point of failure. You are accounted for as an additional asset, not the underpinnings of my reign.¡±


    That was fair.


    ¡°Most of this is on Rhenia specifically. Not all of Procer.¡±


    ¡°I would not have the authority to dictate the governance of other Principalities. This remains true even as First Prince. What I am capable of achieving is demonstrating the merit of the reforms within my own Principality, then organizing a vote for wide scale adoption of the reforms. This is not a guarantee that the vote would pass, merely proof that I will make the attempt. Furthermore, I do not have access to enough information to accurately assess the governance of other Principalities.¡±


    ¡°You have a note about migration. What is it referring to?¡±


    ¡°There are some Principalities where the farmers migrate seasonally. The farmers will live and toil in the fields during the Spring and Summer. This changes during the Winter months. The manants will then migrate to the cities themselves and remain there until the turn of the season. The Principality of Salia is an example of where this occurs. The migratory nature of large parts of the peasantry is not significant for the early stages of planning. However, accounting for it is important once the later stages of adoption are reached.¡±


    That explained it. There would either need to be migratory teachers or seasonal teaching for this to work. I glossed over the list of costs and skipped to a section detailing the difficulty of finding enough teachers. Cordelia proposed rolling out an education system in stages. Start by offering specialized schooling in exchange for various duties performed. Once there was a high enough saturation of people educated on specific subjects, proper public school equivalents could slowly be opened.


    There were annotations on everything. From what would be a proper syllabus, to the projected benefits of having more skilled workers, to the cost of proper teaching materials. Most of the ideas were nothing more than drafts. That didn¡¯t matter to me. This was still more than enough evidence that her side of the bargain was being held. Putting all of this together would not have been easy and looked to have involved the efforts of many people, not just Cordelia herself.


    The notes on the syllabus fascinated me. There were comparisons between having many specialized trade schools and a more generalized education, listing the costs and benefits of each. It wasn¡¯t clear to me which way Cordelia was aiming, but the proposal for trade schools had much more detail filled in.


    I hadn¡¯t even considered the idea that a public education didn¡¯t necessarily need to be a general education.


    It hadn¡¯t really sunk in until I started reading through Cordelia¡¯s notes that just reforming a single part of a nation would be the work of a lifetime. Even though these proposals were still very clearly in the infant stages, there was enough paper for me to drown in.


    I really am going to be working on this for thousands of years, aren¡¯t I?


    I placed the notes on education beside another stack of papers and started looking at the other documentation that was present. There were a surprisingly large number of proposals relating solely to civics. The construction and maintenance of sewer systems in places that did not have them. Roadworks to encourage merchant traffic. Walls for security. Most of those suggestions seemed almost cursory. It was as if they had been pulled out of older books. Past ideas that had been considered good, but been dismissed as infeasible for one reason or another.


    It made sense that there would have been existing plans that became possible simply because I had entered the stage.


    Which brought me to the final set of propositions.


    They all related to international relations. Almost all of them were marked in some way or another as being unworkable.


    ¡°Why won¡¯t any of these work?¡±


    ¡°There is no reliable method to regulate international warfare over long periods of time.¡±


    ¡°Can you explain?¡±


    ¡°Consider the simplest example of two nations at war who are locked in a perpetual draw with each other. Should one side develop a new weapon capable of overpowering the other, they will deploy it to seize victory. This analysis becomes more complicated if you add in a third nation, however the truth remains the same. In the event that any of the groups acquires the power to enforce their victory through force of arms, they will do so.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t they come to a peaceful resolution?¡±


    ¡°Whilst in some cases that is a possibility, in others there are either cultural or economic factors preventing such from occurring. If you consider the Kingdom of the Dead for example, even if it¡¯s ruler offered terms of peaceful coexistence there are no good nations on Calernia that would accept it.¡±


    ¡°How about an organization. One composed of soldiers from every nation. Wouldn¡¯t that work? Then everyone would have a reason to listen.¡±


    ¡°Creating a regulatory body to oversee the situation cannot function unless the organization is strong enough to enforce its principles. Under most circumstances, the nations of Calernia would never allow for an outside entity to operate within their borders with any degree of autonomy. In the event that a large enough tragedy were to occur, such an organization may form in the aftermath. However, it would remain inherently unstable. The regulator would only remain capable of functioning provided that it is in the interests of the members that comprise it. This would remain true during the lifetimes of those who initially establish it, but would drift with the passage of years. It is almost a certainty that the system would one day collapse.¡±


    I was about to turn back to the notes, when Cordelia spoke again. ¡°Are you opposed to leading a crusade against Praes in the aftermath of the civil war?¡±


    My brain ground to a halt. This was not a topic I expected to discuss.


    ¡°You¡¯re asking because you¡¯re planning one?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I have yet to decide one way or the other.¡±


    I mentally marked that as a lie, despite the fact that her face was a mask. Something told me she wanted this war badly. It took me a while to formulate a proper response. Making up my mind was about as hard as I thought.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I replied eventually. ¡°There are advantages and disadvantages. I want the Calamities dead, but I¡¯m not sure fighting them is worth the cost.¡±


    It was easy to tally up lives lost on one path and lives lost on another, then simply do the arithmetic. I didn¡¯t believe that was the right way to compare tragedies.


    ¡°Despite your role as a hero, you would consider leaving them in place?¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t just going to roll over and die,¡± I replied bluntly. ¡°It will be bloody and tens of thousands will die along the way. I don¡¯t know how that compares to just leaving them in charge. The Warlock might not have fixed the problem in Liesse, but he didn¡¯t cause it. Callow existed in a state of apathy before the Artist arrived.¡±


    There was no way I would allow myself in the same room as the Warlock again. Not unless I was fighting him.


    ¡°The Calamities are immortal, much like yourself. How many would perish unjustly should they remain in place?¡±


    It struck me then. Something so obvious, that it surprised me that I missed it.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t like me. Their immortality comes from their Name. If they no longer fit their Name, they will lose it. I don¡¯t know what a Black Knight is supposed to do, but they aren¡¯t supposed to rule. If he keeps doing what he¡¯s doing for another two decades, he will no longer have a Name.¡±


    ¡°If I understand what you are suggesting, you believe that you can merely outlast them?¡±


    I was about to respond when I had an idea. It took only a moment before innovate advanced it. I didn¡¯t like the suggestions. They reminded me of a speech I had once given long ago in the aftermath of the Echidna fight. Weeping heavens, I¡¯d said some stupid things. It was shortly after the reveal of Cauldron. I had told heroes not to break away from the Protectorate over it, despite my own unwillingness to trust them.


    I would still share the idea even if I thought it was a bad one. Perhaps Cordelia could make something out of it. That didn¡¯t mean I shouldn¡¯t preface it with a big warning. It was important that she knew I was only brainstorming.


    ¡°There might be a better option. This is entirely hypothetical. I don¡¯t like it. I¡¯m posing it anyway. Please don¡¯t implement the idea. I¡¯m only suggesting it to see what you think.¡±


    ¡°The degree to which you are warning me against whatever it is you are about to propose suggests that I am unlikely to approve of it,¡± she stated drily.


    ¡°You could form an unofficial alliance with Dread Empress Malicia,¡± I admitted. ¡°It couldn¡¯t ever be done publicly. Agree not to set foot in Callow if she leaves the Principate alone. Then start trading different concessions. The Calamities clearly only tolerate certain kinds of names within their borders. Help remove the villains they dislike. Bargain for favours, or goods and services.¡±


    ¡°Have you considered the current state of the Principate, and the part Dread Empress Malicia¡¯s played in orchestrating it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s part of why I said it¡¯s a bad idea.¡±


    ¡°I would find myself unseated as First Prince were such an agreement ever to come to light. Furthermore, I fail to see the advantages of doing so.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s rewarding good behaviour. Nobody wants the Calamities around, but the other types of villains are even worse. The old stories will die with enough time because they no longer worked. We would just need to wait. The new stories would be less awful.¡±


    ¡°What makes you believe they would honour such an agreement?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I answered truthfully. ¡°I don¡¯t even like the idea. It feels like letting Evil walk free and doing nothing about it. The only reason I proposed it is to see what you would think.¡±


    ¡°So you are not opposed to standing at the forefront of a crusade?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m undecided. Give me time to think about it. It also depends on how much thought you put into the aftermath. How well will people be treated? What will you do about refugees? What weapons are you planning to use? All of those are important questions to me.¡±


    There was a lull in the conversation for a few hundred heartbeats. Eventually, it resumed.


    ¡°In other matters, news from Aisne suggests that their internal conflict has escalated even further. There is open conflict between the peasants and the Princes. The civil war cannot be concluded satisfactorily without a resolution to their internal conflict as well.¡± She had picked up another letter in the process of her speech and had started reading over it.


    That was a very roundabout way of asking me to go to Aisne.


    With the request, came the pointed tug of a story.


    ¡°You want me to go on my own? Why aren¡¯t you stepping in?¡±


    ¡°The politics in Aisne are much more delicate than other Principalities. They have secluded themselves from the civil war at large and turned their attention entirely inwards. Involving myself in their troubles would likely prove deleterious to my broader goals.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t promise this ends the way you like. I¡¯m not just going to support a Prince or Princess unless they seem like the best option.¡±


    ¡°You mistake my intent in making this request. Whilst I have my preferred candidate, the choice of who governs Aisne is largely irrelevant in the current political climate. What I consider far more imperative is that there is an individual able to make decisions at all. That is currently not the case in Aisne at this present moment in time.¡±


    That made me far more comfortable helping out.


    ¡°I can make my way to Aisne, although I will probably need support.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t about to just start ordering people around. If she expected me to resolve this amiably, I needed proper help.


    Cordelia retrieved a document beside her and passed it to me. I looked down at it. I was directed to speak with Princess Mathilda about an outstanding situation involving me. Apparently, one of her attendants wished to resign her commission and formally join my staff. The description of their skills was somewhat vague, and mentally I catalogued it under communications. Princess Mathilda had approved the request.


    How did this even come about? I don¡¯t have a staff.


    ¡°Why was this approved?¡±


    ¡°I imagine that in the aftermath of the fight, Princess Mathilda decided it would be wise to court your approval.¡±


    That made sense. It was more likely there wasn¡¯t a request at all. She probably saw how much I wanted to involve myself in politics and how bad I was at it. Deciding to foist someone with those talents onto me was a good way to influence my opinions while also putting me in her debt.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to need to offer her something for this, won¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°That would be the most prudent course of action.¡±


    ¡°What will you be doing?¡±


    ¡°Klaus is organizing the soldiers for the march on the capital of Lange.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want me there?¡±


    ¡°Whilst your presence would be appreciated, there are too many currently ongoing conflicts within the Principate at present for us to resolve them without separating before Winter sets in.¡±


    Figuring all of this out was unnecessarily complicated.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Princess Mathilda, then head to Aisne.¡±


    I hoped that the problem turned out to be something easy to fix, but I doubted it. My understanding of the situation there was that Aisne had turned itself into a microcosm of the Civil War. Family members all fighting with each other. They were trying to determine who should remain in charge. No matter what I ended up doing there, it wasn¡¯t going to be solved over the course of a day.


    And if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that things could always get worse.

 Liminal 3.06

    ¡°Consider all players when caught in a story, not only the obvious ones. A blade unseen cuts twice as deep as a sword swung from the light.¡±


    ¨C A Stranger¡¯s Guide to Names in Calernia, Author Unknown


    <hr>


    I spent most of the trip towards Aisne focusing on only one task. Roadwork maintenance. Turning dirt roads into proper cobbled brick and expanding the size of them. It wasn¡¯t fun to do, but it was fulfilling. We moved much faster on the roads with such a small party. Fast enough that I couldn¡¯t keep up the work without the use of my Grace.


    I had wanted to put time in and learn how to build watchtowers. Klaus Papenheim had dissuaded me from that course of action. The people in this part of the Principate didn¡¯t make use of them. My efforts would go unappreciated. It was a pity. Watchtowers would arguably be rendered obsolete the moment Procer developed proper scrying methods, but I suspected they had utility regardless. There were probably not enough wizards to go around the entire of Procer. Furthermore, scrying could fail. Either as a result of a wizard being unavailable at one of the two points of connection, or because of an over-abundance of desolation.


    But building infrastructure that would go unused because nobody could staff it made no sense.


    I had stopped what I was doing shortly before we reached Aisne itself.


    As for my new travelling companion. Well¡­ That turned out to be Songbird. I wasn¡¯t entirely certain what she did. That made me wary of her. She was charismatic and good at talking with people. I had some misgivings about her, but not enough to turn her away. That didn¡¯t mean I wouldn¡¯t be cautious. Despite no longer being formally a part of Princess Mathilda¡¯s retinue, she still had some degree of authority with the Neustrian information network. That meant she was trusted to act in Princess Mathilda¡¯s best interest despite being cut loose.


    We would be making use of that resource when we arrived.


    ¡°Repeat that again, Yvette.¡± I stated from the back of my mount.


    ¡°Well I was wondering if you would let me study what you do like if you change things and then I see if I can do the same with magic Jacquinite magic is good at copying miracles and this seems kind of the same right I mean you¡¯re not an Angel but you¡¯re the next best thing aren¡¯t you?¡±


    She bobbed her head from side to side like some sort of excited rodent while talking. Between the harsh glare of the late afternoon sun and her movements, it made it difficult to keep track of the road ahead.


    ¡°Are you asking to dissect me?¡± Her request amused me.


    ¡°No, no, no goodness no I just wanted to see if I can do what you do I don¡¯t want to cut you up I promise I¡¯m not like those wizards to the East I¡¯ll leave it alone if it bothers you.¡±


    It was far too easy to set her off.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine Yvie. We can see about setting up controlled experiments later.¡±


    ¡°That sounds oh look there¡¯s Aisne on the horizon I wonder what the city is like we didn¡¯t stop here when we travelled north do you think the food tastes good oh look over there that cart looks like its about to break down.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯sure you don¡¯t want to just walk into the palace and start telling people what to do?¡± Songbird rode up next to me on her mount. It was a dappled white and brown mare which looked just as dainty as she was.


    ¡°Absolutely. I don¡¯t want to make a mess of things before I find out what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°If you waste too much time thinking, the problem¡¯ll only get worse.¡±


    ¡°I know. I want to be careful. There were rumours. Travelling merchants complained about a villain.¡±


    ¡°I heard them as well. S¡¯pose if the talk about the Revolutionary is true, then you¡¯re playing it smart.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think there are?¡±


    She let out a dainty snort.


    ¡°There¡¯s always talk of new villains. Doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re all true. ¡®Sides, what¡¯re they going to do to you? Talk you to death?¡±


    ¡°Can you find some books for me?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure how much she could help me here. I expected she was better at finding different kinds of information. That wouldn¡¯t stop me from asking.


    ¡°S¡¯pose I could, ¡®pending on what you want.¡±


    ¡°Stories and historical records. About the crusades. I want to get some idea of what a crusade really is.¡±


    Cordelia¡¯s request had been bothering me for a while now. It made more sense for me to ask for advice on what they were than to keep chewing on it alone.


    Hopefully I would be able to learn enough. I didn¡¯t want to give my seal of approval to a crusade without knowing exactly what one was. I had to know both sides of the story. What a crusade meant in terms of politics and what it meant in terms of the story. I wasn¡¯t willing to condemn thousands of people to die without doing my own due diligence on the subject.


    ¡°You worried about a crusade?¡±


    ¡°Not soon. I still want to know more about them.¡±


    ¡°I can try,¡± she grimaced. ¡°S¡¯pose when we arrive, I¡¯ll ask some people and see what they can dig up.¡±


    I let the conversation die there.


    The trip itself had been beautiful. Golden plains of wheat and orchards spread out along the road as far as the eye could see. The fields were worked by farmers living in homesteads that littered the side of the road. The homesteads would apparently be abandoned during the winter. It didn¡¯t come as a surprise. Cordelia had mentioned Salia doing something similar. I was told the view was even better along Julienne¡¯s Highway. That wasn¡¯t the route we were taking. That road was well maintained enough that it didn¡¯t need any help from me.


    People had looked on but not dared approach as I repaved the roads. It turned out that mass construction work on the scale I could do it was intimidating. We were stopped once or twice by guards patrolling the roads. It hadn¡¯t been difficult to convince them that our intentions were pure. That, or they didn¡¯t fancy their chances if it came to a fight.


    I was betting on the latter, but chose to believe the former. I wanted to be more positive.


    Aisne had looked majestic from a distance. A walled island of red brick buildings jutting out amidst a sea of gold. Some buildings rose several stories up into the sky, their sloped slate roofs looking like fingertips reaching for the clouds.


    Which made the reality all the more tragic.


    Muttered whispers about the state of Aisne caused my stomach to clench. It was more road weary travellers passing us by. They were leaving rather than arriving. Most of them wore more extravagant clothing. Merchants and nobles, by the looks of things. People that could afford to move.


    Arriving in Aisne was like walking into a room filled to the brim with gunpowder on a dry, sunny day. Even the slightest hint of fire would set the place ablaze.


    I had veiled the three of us in a perception field. It was a temporary measure. Announcing my arrival was an option. I might have been met with fanfare if I had done it as well. Although after seeing the state of the place, I doubted it. Regardless, I considered that to be unwise.


    By entering quietly, it was possible for me to assess the situation before settling on what to do. People likely knew that I was here. That was okay. I wasn¡¯t trying to prevent them from knowing I was in the city. I was only trying to stop them from knowing exactly where I was. It allowed me to make my mind up about how I wanted to resolve this without every royal asshole shoving their polished posterior in front of my face and asking for a kiss.


    If I was any other hero, I¡¯d bet they wouldn¡¯t even give walk on the same street as them. When it was blatantly obvious how much I could do for them though¡­ It was easier to just avoid attention in the first place.


    Yvette, Songbird and I passed through the city gates onto an open avenue. Large pines stood to attention on either side as we rode towards a fountain up ahead. Taking a right, we made our way along a dirty paved road towards a nearby stable. After freeing ourselves of our two horses, we started making our way to a place called the Fated Connections. Apparently it was an establishment frequented by people like Songbird. I didn¡¯t know where it was, but she did.


    Fear hung in the air. It was cloying, inescapable. There were guards on the corner of every important thoroughfare. They loomed over anyone who dared show their head, alert and watchful. The guard¡¯s hands never left their weapons, and they twitched at the slightest hint of movement.


    The streets were all but deserted. It was unnerving being the only ones visible on the road. A light breeze whispered gently through the path ahead of us. It was the only voice we could hear.


    The rumours we heard before arriving described a nightmare.


    It was alleged that nobody would risk going outside if they didn¡¯t need to. Aisne had been embroiled in a local squabble for years now. Princess Clotilde was the supposed heir to be. She hadn¡¯t managed to take charge. There had been infighting within the family. She had been warring with the others for control over the place. Then, only weeks ago, she had disappeared from the public eye and one of her brothers by the name of Quentin had seized control of over half of the guard.


    It was likely that she was dead.


    There were other members of the family embroiled in the conflict. Lesser players, but still making their voices heard.


    In addition, a new sort of conflict had started to appear. It had been continuing for a few months now and was brutal in its execution. Armed resistance of a different kind. There were no soldiers in this force. It seemed to be some sort of civilian movement. They hadn¡¯t even declared for a ruler. Instead, signs of their actions could be seen through how they acted.


    Two members of the nobility had been killed, their corpses left as bloody eagles in their homes. Three granaries had been burned down. Guards had been caught and crucified. Nobody knew what the supposed villain actually looked like. They only knew that the villain went by the Name of the Revolutionary.


    And then, there were the messages on the walls. Pictures of a crown stomped under a boot. Beneath them, writing.


    All becomes dust.


    I wasn¡¯t sure who the writing was aimed at. It certainly wasn¡¯t the peasantry. I hadn¡¯t seen the darker signs yet. I didn¡¯t expect that to last.


    ¡°You sure this is the right way?¡±


    We were stepping off the main road into a side alley on our left. The place didn¡¯t look entirely safe. The space between buildings was so narrow that at best two skinny people could scrape through side by side. It felt like walking between the gaps in rotten teeth.


    ¡°Yeah I want to know that as well I don¡¯t like the look of this place everything is so grim and you can¡¯t see the sky properly with all those clothes hanging between-.¡± Yvette cut off, her emerald eyes trailing after something.


    It took me a moment to work out what it was. A shaggy grey cat with white paws. The animal was darting across the narrow alleyway up ahead. I suspected it was after a rat. Following its movements was hard. It kept moving from shadow to shadow. It didn¡¯t help that the light of the sun was slowly petering out as the day drew to a close.


    ¡°No, Yvie.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she asked, puzzled. ¡°Can you check it to see if it''s injured my mother always used to say we should take better care of cats than peasants because they protect granaries from pests and the cats ran away if you didn¡¯t care for them but peasants always came back this part of the city isn¡¯t the nicest so the cat probably needs a little help.¡±


    Leave it, Taylor. Now is not the time.


    Yvette didn¡¯t say things like that often. She was usually sweet. Fortunately, she was still young and there was time for me to teach her better.


    ¡°Sure. I thought you wanted a pet.¡±


    Yvette flicked a strand of golden hair and pouted at me. ¡°I¡¯m not stupid we travel all the time on the road and even if we can afford it it would be a lot of work and it would get in the way of my studies and I certainly wouldn¡¯t be able to summarize documents for you while caring for one.¡±


    She paused for a moment and inhaled, then continued.


    ¡°Why do you have so many books on politics anyhow it''s not like you¡¯re going to rule over anything Faith in Crowns was boring to read and On Rule was even worse they were both written by stuffy old people who use long words to sound clever.¡±


    Ideally, I would have the time to read over them fully myself. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t. Trusting in summarized text wasn¡¯t ideal, but I did have to prioritize.


    ¡°I have them because I want to know more about the Principate.¡±


    I took a moment to stop the cat with a bundle of air. It yowled at me as I did so. After bringing it over and checking it for injuries, I released it back onto the street.


    ¡°S¡¯pose this path does look a little dangerous. Not to worry, it''s a shortcut. I promise.¡± Songbird butted in. She chuckled with mirth as she spoke.


    We started to make our way towards our destination. Aisne took on an entirely different atmosphere in the back alleys. People moved around furtively in the shadows. Everyone carried weapons and eyed each other mistrustfully as they moved. Despite not being abandoned, the atmosphere was no less hostile.


    We were skirting through one of the poorer sections of the city. I had my doubts about the safety of this shortcut. Not for my sake, but for the other two. I chose to trust Songbird. If I wanted to truly put my hand on the pulse of the city, then I needed to take the risk. I couldn¡¯t afford to be blind. That didn¡¯t mean I hadn¡¯t quietly added a layer of protection to the both of them.


    The roofs here were flat topped and only a single story high. The walls were unwashed and everything stank like a fish market.


    Then, I came to a stop. Before me was a sight so gruesome that it forced me to look around. There was nobody else in sight.


    I turned back to the scene.


    It was the corpse of a girl who looked only a few summers younger than me. She had been stripped naked. Her innards had been spilled all over the ground. It didn¡¯t end there. Her hands had been nailed to the walls and ribs splayed out like open fingers. The look of pure agony on the corpse¡¯s face suggested that it had been done to her while she was still alive. I felt bile rise up at the back of my throat. I averted my eyes. Beside her, there was text on the walls.


    ¡°Look away, Yvie.¡±


    I stopped to examine the writing. Sloppy, broad crimson strokes of text that had been painted in the girl¡¯s blood. It looked like it had been copied from somewhere else. The calligraphy lacked confidence.


    I suspected the person who wrote them couldn¡¯t properly read or write.


    It reminded me of the Nine again. It was horrid and needlessly cruel. Even if the nobles did deserve to die, they didn¡¯t deserve something like this. I felt the angels tightening their embrace in response. I stepped in close then touched it. The lettering was still wet.


    Must have been done recently.


    ¡°What do you think it means?¡± I asked Songbird. It took effort to keep my emotions out of my voice.


    ¡°I dunno,¡± she glibly replied. ¡°Don¡¯t think it matters.¡±


    ¡°It does.¡± I denied, ¡°If there really is a villain inside Aisne and this is their work, then it must be a part of their story.¡±


    She snorted, but drew in closer, eying it more critically.


    ¡°I¡¯d guess it¡¯s some sort of revolutionary claptrap. Woe is me, everyone dies, so why dontcha rise up and stab the people in charge,¡± Songbird emoted, raising the back of her gauntleted dainty hand to her forehead theatrically. ¡°Bet she was dying to join up.¡±


    I swear I¡¯ve been saddled with two kids rather than only one.


    ¡°Wrong time,¡± I told her flatly.


    Usually I enjoyed a bit of dark humour. It didn¡¯t seem appropriate while we were standing over the corpse.


    ¡°S¡¯never the wrong time,¡± she replied, unashamedly. ¡°Y¡¯should see the jokes people tell when some stupid fuck tries to kill a lord and gets boiled alive in oil.¡±


    I breathed in slowly, then said nothing in response. If she ended up attached to me in the long term, I¡¯d definitely talk to her about this. I doubted I would be able to change her mind. That didn¡¯t mean I wouldn¡¯t try. It didn¡¯t matter if this was the world we lived in. There were limits to what was acceptable.


    Songbird alternated between several personalities. She frequently acted like a melodramatic teenager that never grew up. However, it was not the only face she wore. Less frequently, she took on a more serious fa?ade. There were others as well, although I hadn¡¯t seen enough of them to form a proper impression. I didn¡¯t know which one was really her. Probably none of them. She seemed like the kind of person who wore many masks and never showed her true face.


    I turned back to the poor girl¡¯s corpse. Whoever she was, she deserved a better ending. I walked beside her, then gently closed her eyes. I took a moment to say a brief prayer, then turned the corpse into white smoke.


    ¡°Y¡¯really praying for her?¡± Songbird sounded incredulous at the idea.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°She probably did something real shit. Nobody nice dies this way.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± I admitted. ¡°But she could just be a victim. We don¡¯t know. Praying only takes a moment of my time, and well¡­¡± I trailed off.


    There was some equivalent to heaven in this world. I didn¡¯t know if the soul of the corpse deserved to go there or not. I wasn¡¯t the one judging. All I knew was that praying definitely served a practical purpose here, and it didn¡¯t cost me anything to do it.


    I wouldn¡¯t have the time on a battlefield. But in moments like this¡­ It was the least I could do.


    ¡°M¡¯travelling with a fucking saint,¡± she muttered. ¡°You always do the right thing?¡±


    ¡°No. I did a lot of wrong things. Realized I hated it. I¡¯m trying to do the right thing now. Praying costs me nothing. If I had to choose between this and something important, that¡¯s when it truly has meaning.¡±


    Yvette remained quiet during our dialogue. For a moment, I thought she was bothered by the corpse. I turned her way to comfort her. Dressed in green, she was standing still and staring off into the distance. I followed her eyes and saw she was watching a flock of birds on the rooftop.


    Right¡­


    It was like every person I¡¯d met in northern Procer was a walking tragedy. They were broken so badly, they couldn¡¯t even see where the pieces fit together any more. I knew I was the odd one out but¡­ Becoming so used to tragedy that you were inured to it wasn¡¯t something to be proud of. I¡¯d been there before, and I didn¡¯t want to go back there.


    I wished Roland was around again. He added a bit of normal to my otherwise not so normal life.


    The three of us kept moving.


    The maze of narrow passages was confusing. I didn¡¯t have the faintest clue how Songbird was navigating the place. Apparently there was a route out of these dilapidated buildings into the wealthier part of the city. I was dubious.


    ¡°Anyhow. We¡¯re almost there. Just a few more turns-¡± Songbird was interrupted by a wail.


    It sounded like it came from a nearby alley. If I took the state of the city into consideration, it was likely someone was being hurt.


    Jerking into motion, I sprinted around the corner and ran head first into a wiry man who was missing one eye.


    Both of us tumbled to the ground.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry. I didn¡¯t see you,¡± the figure stammered out quickly in a squeaky voice as they climbed to their feet.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t paying attention either¡­¡± I trailed off.


    The person had climbed to their feet and left before I had finished talking.


    Odd.


    Songbird leaned down. Her jerkin rustled as she did so. She reached towards the ground and picked something up. She examined it for a moment, then her eyes narrowed.


    ¡°Seems we''re up for a spot of trouble,¡± Songbird sang, turning my way. Her voice was laced with a hint of mischief, and sparks twinkled in her eyes.


    I had spent enough time with her on the road by now to know that meant something was about to go wrong. Normally it meant something small. I didn¡¯t think that would be the case now.


    Great.


    ¡°What did you find?¡±


    She raised her hand my way and showed me what she had picked up. It was a letter sealed with wax. A symbol was painted on it near the top. It looked to have been done in a hurry. Despite how rough the work was, I could still make out what it was. The traced outline of a white crown under the heel of a black boot.


    The sign of the rebellion.


    It could have meant nothing. It might have only been a coincidence. I doubted it. I had suspected from the moment I stepped into the city that I would be stepping into a story. There would be no coincidences if this was a running narrative. That made this letter our first clue. The person we had stumbled into would be a member of this villain¡¯s movement. Probably someone important as well. And there was a villain involved here. I had no evidence to support that, but I was still certain of it.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    I opened it.


    ¡°Wait Taylor don¡¯t do that it¡¯s going to-¡± the entire thing immediately went up in smoke.


    As the letter combusted, I realized that it had been laced with a spell. I hadn¡¯t even bothered to check.


    ¡°S¡¯funny how you managed to burn our first clue,¡± Songbird chortled.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± I mumbled irritably in response.


    I guess they have a wizard helping them.


    Arms pistoning from side to side, I started running again.


    Panning my gaze around, I looked for the man we had bumped into. I spotted a mother holding a child that was wailing in her arms as we went.


    That explains the noise.


    The others followed behind as I ran. I turned another corner. The streets suddenly opened out in the distance. There was a wide open circular space at the far end of the alleyway. A crowd was congregating within it.


    It was difficult to make out what they were looking at. The street we were in was narrow and the walls of the nearby buildings occluded the view of the late afternoon sun. Clothes lines hung overhead between rooftops. Everything was steeped in darkness.


    I squinted, then closed in some more. Most of the crowd was shorter than me, but not short enough to see over. Eventually, I found an elevated place to look from. I was standing on the front step of a run-down building. It was some way away from the rest of the crowd. We hadn¡¯t left the refuge of our alleyway, but we were still close enough to see.


    I started scanning the crowd, hoping to find our crook. It was probably hopeless. That didn¡¯t stop me from making the effort.


    In the middle of the crowd there was an open space with only a few people within. It was a troupe of street performers that were putting on some kind of show. A temporary stage had been built in the middle of the dusty road. To one side, one of the members had cut holes into a cloth suspended from some poles and placed a lantern behind it. The flickering light of the lantern cast eerie shadows. The figure behind the sheet moved his hands one way and another near the flame, constructing a shadowy scene with their hands.


    Three more actors pantomimed fighting the shadows. Considering the fact that putting on an act like this depended a great deal on the environmental circumstances, it was well done. I didn¡¯t have the right cultural background to understand what they were displaying. The audience clearly did. They were riveted.


    I frowned.


    If this was a story, then what kind of story was it? There was an extremist underground resistance movement fighting against the lawful authority. We had just stumbled into one of their members who had been in a hurry to reach somewhere. Following, we had ended up in front of a crowd featuring some kind of stage performance. Was this a part of it? Possibly. If it was a part of the narrative then¡­


    Now was the time for the dramatic reveal. There would be some kind of attack or declaration made here.


    ¡°Tell me if either of you notice anything odd,¡± I stated.


    Neither of them spoke. It didn¡¯t matter. I could sense their agreement.


    I started to look around. The problem was that I wasn¡¯t convinced that the lawful authority didn¡¯t deserve to die. I didn¡¯t necessarily disagree with the movement itself. Their methods were the issue. And not just the bloody executions. I suspected that the rebels were deliberately inviting attacks onto innocents.


    They were approaching this with the mindset that other people were expendable. All that mattered was achieving success. Follow that line of philosophy far enough, and you ended up in the same place I had been in the past. It was also exactly the same line of thought espoused by the nobility.


    I felt Yvette tugging on my arm. I looked down at her. Wordlessly, she pointed towards the troupe member managing the shadows. I didn¡¯t see what she was pointing at. It struck me a moment later.


    Magic. There was something enchanted behind the shaded cloth. It didn¡¯t take me long to work out what I thought it was. I assessed the working to be non-threatening. This presented a teaching opportunity.


    ¡°Without raising your voice, tell me what you think that does.¡±


    Yvette frowned, biting her bottom lip. Her nose scrunched up for a moment, then she sneezed.


    Glaring like an upset rabbit, she began to talk. ¡°Well looking at the components used it''s hard to tell it feels like something is missing the line work is a mess you keep complaining about mine but if that¡¯s a finished spell then why can¡¯t I be more messy?¡±


    ¡°Just because this wizard is bad at magic doesn¡¯t mean you can be,¡± I replied. Her pout almost elicited a laugh. ¡°You forgot to answer the question.¡±


    Max would have castigated me for attempting whatever it was they were trying to do. That didn¡¯t change the fact that whoever this group was, they had magic. This had the potential to become ugly.


    ¡°I think it''s an illusion of some kind the lantern is used as a catalyst to fuel the effect it won¡¯t do anything big until the flame is snuffed out but where are most of the components it seems like half the items required are missing.¡±


    ¡°I think it''s set up to be cast remotely,¡± I explained. ¡°The components are missing because the wizard isn¡¯t here. He or she is somewhere else. Probably somewhere over there,¡± I pointed to a building with a good view of the scene in the distance. ¡°Did you notice anything else?¡±


    Biting her lip, her eyes darted back and forth. ¡°Well I don¡¯t think there is any High Arcana what does High Arcana look like anyhow you¡¯ve mentioned it a few times but never shown it to me otherwise I can¡¯t see anything else should I try sabotaging the spell?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t do anything yet,¡± I declared. ¡°And you¡¯re right, there isn¡¯t any. I haven¡¯t shown you any because I can¡¯t. I don¡¯t know enough to teach about it. It¡¯s also very dangerous. I wouldn¡¯t show you any even if I could until we¡¯re sure you have the basics sorted. We don¡¯t know if you can use it at all. Not everyone can. If there was any in use here, we would have a much bigger problem.¡±


    High Arcana was much higher order than regular magic. Allegedly, only a few sorcerers could even read it without forgetting what they saw. We had only seen it once or twice while in Callow. Half formed images in books about summoning creatures better left alone. I was a part of the lucky few. That didn¡¯t make it any easier for me to understand. Parsing it was a nightmare, since it was almost entirely symbolic and personalized. It was just that I could if I wanted to.


    Roland and Max had both sulked for over a week and called me the biggest waste of a sorcerer when they had found out. They speculated my nature was preventing me from being able to perform any magic. It was likely true. I wasn¡¯t about to complain about it. If I had to choose between being able to perform sorcery and being able to rewrite reality as I wished, then I would always choose the latter.


    That didn¡¯t stop me from learning whatever I could about magic in case one day it became relevant.


    ¡°S¡¯pose I should mention that trouble just arrived?¡± Songbird butted in. She pointed past the crowd. I followed the direction of her finger.


    A city guard patrol was approaching in the distance.


    There was a moment of tenseness as the guards and the crowd seemed to assess each other.


    The person making the shadows snuffed out the lantern light.


    The illusion started to take hold. I debated whether I should intervene. The effect didn¡¯t look hostile. I decided against stepping in. I knew enough to judge this spell wouldn¡¯t hurt anyone. Seeing what the villain was trying to do in a low stakes environment would give me a better idea of how he fought.


    The shadows all around us began to writhe, grasping towards the troupe. They looked like the hands of corpses if you didn¡¯t try to make out the details. Bloody hands that were crawling forward on their fingertips. The moment you focused on them, it became obvious that it wasn¡¯t real.


    ¡°This spell is really messy there¡¯s so much waste and the illusion isn¡¯t that believable I mean look at the fingers they smudge together a bit and the crawling is kind of blending into the ground whoever taught this wizard didn¡¯t do a good job maybe you should teach them Taylor.¡±


    ¡°I think one student is enough for now.¡±


    If I could actually perform sorcery, I was certain I could do better. But it didn¡¯t matter if you weren¡¯t paying attention to detail. I took a look around the crowd. They were enraptured. There were understated mutterings. People sounded angry and afraid. They started to back away.


    The hands started to climb on top of each other as they drew together. Gradually, they reshaped into a face that looked over the crowd.


    ¡°All becomes dust,¡± it hissed.


    The face dissolved into shadows. A new image was formed from the remaining gloom. It was an image of a crown. There was a boot hovering above it. The tenebrous heel came down and the crown shattered. The shadows faded away.


    The illusion was awful. I could certainly do a much better approximation of the same effect. But I was willing to admit that this villain did have an understanding of spectacle.


    The citizens and the guards assessed each other for a tense moment. I subtly dosed everyone with calmness in order to hopefully prevent the situation from escalating. Perhaps we could resolve this peacefully.


    ¡°By the order of the rightful ruler of Aisne Prince Quentin, informal gatherings such as these are a sign of sedition and are punishable by death. Bare your blades, men.¡± A whiney voice called out from the patrol. It was a man wearing an elaborate uniform. Probably a noble of some kind.


    Fuck.


    It was at that moment I realized what was going to happen if I didn¡¯t step in. The guards were going to attack the crowd. It didn¡¯t matter if they were calm. This was calculated, deliberate. I wasn¡¯t about to allow a fight like this to occur. It would be bloody and nobody would be happy with the aftermath. I started to reach out.


    I considered using an emotional attack, but decided against it. For them to be truly effective, they also had to be debilitating for extended periods of time. I would have to stick around for another patrol to show up if I did. There was a chance someone would wander past and take advantage of their vulnerable state if I didn¡¯t wait. I didn¡¯t want to have to explain my attack against the current ¡°lawful¡± authority to anyone. It would complicate everything.


    The guards drew their short swords while I deliberated. What else could I do? Disarming them might halt the fight. So I heated the handles of their weapons. The wood caught fire. I couldn¡¯t see it, but I knew that the metal beneath had turned white.


    Yelping, the guards dropped the blades.


    Serves you right.


    I turned back to the burgeoning conflict. The patrol seemed determined to continue with the attack despite having been disarmed. Members of the crowd had drawn weapons of their own. They were angry, shouting wildly. Even after I had tried to calm them, they were appraising the guards like lambs for the slaughter.


    How do I stop this?


    I could try to talk them down. I doubted it would work. Without outright controlling them, the hatred was just too deep.


    For a moment, I considered co-opting this movement¡¯s symbology. Using shadows to trick everyone into thinking this was the work of the rebellion. Put on a scary enough show, and I could just frighten everyone away. I decided against it. Doing so might see me mistaken for them, and I didn¡¯t like the way that they fought.


    It wasn¡¯t just that.


    Image mattered. More than it did on Earth Bet. If I played into the wrong stories, they might actually come back to bite me later. I was a heroine and would appear like one. Using dark colours and themes was the first step to falling for every hero in a traditional story. I was committing to doing the opposite.


    What represents me?


    I was about doing better. Making the right decisions and not the wrong ones, then helping other people do the same. Redemption. I didn¡¯t have a catchy phrase like this rebellion clearly did, but I could come up with a symbol.


    ¡­ There was no way I was ever going to be able to hide in a crowd this way without influencing their perception of me.


    An illusory wall of incandescent light fell between the civilians and the now disarmed guards. It blocked off the alley the patrol was in. The effect was blinding, almost impossible to look at. An image was emblazoned in the middle of either side.


    A round badge with a silver ring encircling it.


    Inside the circle was the image of a golden staircase leading up into puffy white clouds. A silver handrail adorned the right-hand side of the staircase. There was nothing on the left. At the bottom was a field of blood and fire.


    Unfortunately, it made it difficult for me to assess the conflict as well. I needed a bird¡¯s eye view. I surrounded myself in a mostly transparent sphere with an opaque base, then levitated it up into the air. It was easier than trying to fly myself. It took some nimble manoeuvring to pass between clothes lines without disrupting them. I managed. Eventually, I had a good look over the battlefield.


    I looked down.


    Both the civilians and the guards stopped and gawked. Many shaded their eyes and flinched. They were so distracted by the scene that none of them had bothered to look up. A dule of doves coed softly and started flying off from the roof of one of the buildings. The moment of stillness broke.


    The crowd charged towards the wall of light. It looked as if they were planning to attack the guards. Were they actually insane? They might have numbers, but that didn¡¯t count for much against proper armour. Even with the advantage of weapons, it still wasn¡¯t worth the cost.


    I hardened my construct. They beat against it for a few heartbeats angrily before realizing that their efforts were futile.


    Utter madness.


    Once the situation set in, the crowd started to make their escape. It was a disorganized mess. People running and pushing against each other. Grimacing, I hit them with another dose of calmness. The last hadn¡¯t been especially strong. It didn¡¯t take much longer for the crowd to make themselves scarce.


    The guards were mulling around on the opposite side of my barrier. Their weapons were still strewn on the floor. I was tempted to melt them down to slag.


    No, don¡¯t do that.


    It would be satisfying. They would need to explain to their superiors what happened to their equipment on their own. But it would put me on bad terms with the nobility from the outset. This could still be explained away.


    I lowered myself back to the ground.


    ¡°S¡¯pose that was fun to watch,¡± Songbird sang.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t fun to do.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯should have just blissed ¡®em all.¡±


    ¡°I was tempted to.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯really shit at this keeping your head low thing.¡±


    ¡°I can be,¡± I replied, frustrated. ¡°I¡¯m just not willing to just stand aside.¡±


    ¡°Well, you pretty much announced you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s going to complicate everything.¡±


    ¡°Plan one takes an arrow through the heart,¡± Songbird mimed the action of an arrow striking her theatrically.


    ¡°Think you can lie our way out of this?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose I could. What do you want me to say?¡±


    ¡°Convince them we only just arrived. I saw they were in danger and moved to help.¡±


    ¡°Can do. Drop the barrier for me, will you?¡±


    I allowed the wall of light and my sphere to disappear. Then the three of us moved towards the guards.


    ¡°Salutations,¡± Songbird spread her arms wide. ¡°The three of us couldn¡¯t help but notice y¡¯were in a spot of trouble. Hope you don¡¯t mind us helping out?¡±


    The leader turned our way. The surface of his armour had been painted over with red ornamentation. It stood out and was impractical.


    ¡°Good day to you,¡± the man said. He looked at Songbird quizzically. ¡°Would you care to-¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯see, skinny over here is all cosied up with the Angels,¡± she pointed my way. ¡°Crowd looked like they were about to gut you. Bleeding heart that she is, she couldn¡¯t have that.¡±


    The man turned his attention to me.


    ¡°The aegis that held off the agitators was formed by your hand?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then you have my thanks. Would that you had restrained them, then they could have faced justice.¡±


    ¡°Taylor here is a gentle soul. She wouldn¡¯t hurt anyone. Sworn to Compassion, y¡¯know.¡± Songbird grinned my way as she spoke.


    I swear I am going to make her pay for this.


    ¡°Would it trouble you to soothe the burns on our hands? Some foul miscreant from among the rebel¡¯s flock set our blades alight.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I replied.


    I wasn¡¯t happy about healing them, but now that Songbird had started talking, I had an act to sell.


    Killing everyone and putting myself in charge would be so much easier than this.


    It took only a little while longer of Songbird shmoozing the patrol before they chose to depart. It was amusing watching them gingerly hold their blades by the wrong ends. The remains of the handles were still far too hot.


    It was only then I realized something important.


    The street actors were gone.


    I had been so focused on resolving the conflict that I hadn¡¯t even seen them escape.


    ¡°Did either of you see where the actors went?¡± I asked hopefully.


    ¡°No I was too busy watching what you were doing I think I can make illusions like that if I try but not as quickly actually maybe if I-¡±


    ¡°They slipped away with the crowd.¡± Songbird interjected.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s check that building.¡±


    The building itself was deserted. Our footprints were the first to disturb the dust. It seemed that my guess had been off. It was frustrating. This was an opportunity to find out more about the villain. An opportunity that it seemed we had lost.


    I sighed, ¡°We should continue on then.¡±


    Songbird grinned. Then, she leaned in close, placing a hand on my shoulder. ¡°This way,¡± she whispered, winking at me, and started to walk away.


    The two of us followed behind. She went down another alley to our left that was shrouded behind a grey cloth. A couple of turns later, and we were back on the main road. We came face to face with an opulent four-storey building that purported to be a rest house. It had white walls and stone tables set out around the tiled front porch. Each floor had balconies extending outwards, with green and gold banners draped from beneath.


    The soft, lilting notes of a harp could be heard from inside.


    ¡°Come on in,¡± Songbird said cheerfully. She set her palm on the oak door handle and proceeded to throw open the double doors. Her ill-fitting leather tunic swayed from side to side as she sauntered in.


    Except for the owner, the place was almost entirely empty. It was jarring. Especially considering how well maintained the building was. There were a bunch of empty tables with chairs placed on top of them, legs facing towards the ceiling. The shutters were open, and the place was well lit.


    On the right-hand side, there was a stage with a musician in a lavender dress on it. She was playing the harp.


    Were it not for the tension out on the streets, I would call the Fated Connections welcoming.


    The civil war had clearly hit the place hard.


    Songbird had immediately made her way towards the proprietor. She was a short elderly lady who looked to be in her late sixties, with a face shrivelled like a prune.


    ¡°Back again, Song? Didn¡¯t I tell you not to darken my door for another year?¡± The proprietor¡¯s voice was shrill.


    ¡°Don¡¯tcha know it,¡± Songbird said jovially, seizing her in a hug.


    ¡°Get off me, you unruly barbarian. Your jerkin is all dirty and carries the stench of a horse,¡± the old lady groused.


    ¡°Awww, I know you love me,¡± Songbird teased, finally letting her go.


    ¡°They with you?¡± The woman pointed at us accusingly. Her voice sounded as if it was a crime.


    ¡°You bet,¡± beamed Songbird.


    The woman¡¯s face soured at that and her shoulders seemed to slump. ¡°Fine, all of you come on in, but don¡¯t track any mud in here, you hear me!¡± she declared.


    ¡°How do you manage? This place is huge.¡± I asked.


    ¡°Lots of people used to work here,¡± she grumbled. ¡°Then those shits started fighting. Still have a few helpers. Why, looking for work?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine.¡±


    She went back to polishing a table, ignoring us.


    Shutting the door behind us, we followed behind Songbird. She led us up a varnished wooden staircase on the left-hand side of the room. Songbird moved directly towards a table on a balcony once we had finished ascending to the second floor. We all pulled down the chairs and sat.


    ¡°Is it safe to talk?¡± I whispered to Songbird.


    ¡°S¡¯fine, Maude is one of Big M¡¯s people.¡± Then she bellowed, ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Aunt Maude?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a pest, Song!¡± Maude shouted back from down below.


    I decided not to question those two¡¯s relationship. It seemed wiser than the alternative.


    ¡°Aisne looks even worse than I expected.¡±


    ¡°You really made a mess. Everyone prob¡¯ly knows where you are.¡±


    ¡°I messed up,¡± I admitted. ¡°We¡¯ll work with what we have.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯now that we¡¯re here, what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re allowed to make use of Princess Mathilda¡¯s spies, right?¡±


    ¡°Hands,¡± she interrupted.


    ¡°What?¡± I inquired, befuddled.


    ¡°They¡¯re called Hands, not spies.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± I was genuinely curious. Was it just a meaningless distinction, or did they serve some other function?


    ¡°We¡¯re not doing anything shady under the table. Whoever is in charge of this dump would usually know we¡¯re here. The situation being what it is right now, we¡¯re making a bit of an exception. The Hands are a quiet way for Mathilda to gab with the other Princes, all unofficial. We do look into stuff, but if the person up top here tells us to back off, we leave things alone,¡± she explained.


    That did sound more like diplomatic ambassadors than spies.


    ¡°Hands, then,¡± I corrected. ¡°Aisne looks even worse than we were told. It seems there is a villain trying to stage a full on rebellion. We need to find out more about them. I also need you to look into the nobility. Anyone who can claim the title of Prince. I want to know everything about them.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± she said cheerfully. ¡°We¡¯re looking into the boot and the Princes. What next?¡±


    I took a moment to compose my thoughts. I remembered the question I had asked myself before. If this was a story, what kind of story was it? The Principate had been locked in a state of civil war for years. There was no clear winner. A villain rises up. Unhappy with how events are playing out, they stage a rebellion. What do they want to do? I wasn¡¯t sure, but I doubted that they planned for a peaceful resolution at the end of it.


    Either they want to put themselves in charge, or burn it all to the ground.


    The former was an acceptable outcome if they were more reasonable than every other Calernian villain I had met. But that would be asking too much of them. Painting the walls with people¡¯s intestines was not something a reasonable revolutionary did. A villain wanting to set themselves up as in charge needed order. At the end of the story, something would need to remain for them to be able to call it a win. They couldn¡¯t just tear everything down because you couldn¡¯t rule over ruins.


    ¡°The villain¡¯s called the Revolutionary, right?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯right,¡± Songbird replied, tapping her fingernails on the table.


    All becomes dust.


    I didn¡¯t think the villain wanted to take over. Everything we had seen so far pointed towards burning everything to the ground.


    Their win condition was to make people so angry that it became impossible to restore order. Kill the reasonable people and then fan the flames between everyone else.


    ¡°We need to do a few things. First: I want you to arrange a talk for me with some people at the bottom levels of authority. Not the peasants, the ones directly above. Still low enough in the hierarchy that they know what people want.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re planning to have them pass on a message?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s the best way to talk to the people being hurt.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do. S¡¯not gonna be easy though. I don¡¯t exactly have that kind of authority. We¡¯ll need to grease the wheels.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I allowed. ¡°Second: I want you to find out who people would tolerate leading,¡± I declared. ¡°Not the extremists. The voices of reason.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Songbird asked.


    ¡°Because if they aren¡¯t already dead, then the Revolutionary will kill them.¡±


    ¡°And third?¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Haven¡¯t thought of one yet.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not trying to kill the villain?¡±


    ¡°I have to find the villain first. Someone who fights like this¡­ Finding them won¡¯t be easy. It¡¯s easier to try denying them their objectives. Keep the reasonable people alive. Remove the extremists from power. Then force the Revolutionary to come to us.¡±


    ¡°How ¡®bout your books?¡±


    ¡°I almost forgot. If you have the time, please look into them.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know you¡¯re going to have to deal with the nobles?¡±


    ¡°I know. They¡¯re probably going to send me invites anyhow. I¡¯ll talk to them.¡±


    She hummed to herself for a moment. ¡°Don¡¯t think your plan¡¯s gonna work.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    If she had any advice, I¡¯d take it.


    ¡°People don¡¯t gab if they don¡¯t want to gab. You want them to negotiate, but that isn¡¯t happening. Both sides want blood. They don¡¯t need to talk for blood.¡±


    ¡°I need to give them a reason to negotiate?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯right.¡±


    ¡°How can I fix that?¡±


    ¡°Give them a bigger threat to worry about. Something they hate more than each other.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not doing that.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t need to be a real threat. They just need to think it is.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Fake an attack from Praes. You¡¯re scary enough. Make an illusion of the Warlock.¡±


    ¡°Tell me something that doesn¡¯t involve threatening people,¡± I stated, exasperated. ¡°I know how to do that. I¡¯m trying not to.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose if you killed the right people, the problem would go away. Not gonna be easy.¡±


    We¡¯ve graduated from threats to murder.


    ¡°Any ideas that involve negotiating?¡±


    ¡°Nothing that I think you¡¯ll like.¡±


    ¡°Tell me anyway.¡±


    Conversation continued for a while. I thought about what Songbird said. We passed a few more suggestions back and forth. I didn¡¯t like them.


    I stared out over the city, watching the sun finally set. The Revolutionary had me worried. More worried than facing the Warlock. The Warlock was an enemy I could face. I knew what to prepare for, even if the thought of fighting him was daunting. This¡­


    The Revolutionary wasn¡¯t an enemy who fought with swords and spells. If I tried to prepare for some major confrontation against them, I would be setting myself up to lose. Actually, I wasn¡¯t fighting against people at all. The peasants were being mistreated. They deserved better. It was just the answer they came to was wrong. I needed a way to convince them that there was a better way to get what they wanted. I had to persuade them that tearing down everything wouldn¡¯t fix anything in the long term.


    It bothered me. I wasn¡¯t fighting against people. I was fighting against an idea.

 Liminal 3.0b

    ¡°¡ªFor the spider would learn;


    In the lands it now strode


    That the fox was the king;


    And this was its abode¡ª¡±


    ¡ª Extract from The Spider that Swallowed the Sun, 28th stanza. Author unknown.


    <hr>


    The scorching heat radiated down upon the rooftops and rendered the interior of the scriptorium stifling. The day was only dawning, and already it bore down upon him like the press of a quill against parchment.


    Percival the master scribe continued his labour. He leaned over the desk carefully and gazed through a magnifying glass. The work was delicate. Percival was most fortunate, for his calling paid him generously. He was rewarded both in material and spiritual coin.


    His current labour was one that demanded his undivided attention. One of the richer lords had tasked him with transcribing the intricate engravings off of an older manuscript into a new book.


    Percival took a break from his task for a moment. Climbing off the rickety stool that he sat upon, he stepped back and stretched. The day was truly sweltering. Absently, Percival reached up and wiped the sweat off his brow with a wrinkled hand. His gaze wandered out the open doorway. On most days it would be closed to the elements. He made an exception when the golden tyrant above ruled supreme. His efforts had been rewarded with a breeze today. The streets beyond the interstice were deserted. This was not an unexpected state of affairs. It was doubtful that anyone desired to be up and around in these quarters in the heat. This was twice true due to the feuding lords.


    Percival turned around and opened the door behind him. He took a moment to glance over the shoulders of his many apprentices as he proceeded towards the far exit. The room was absent of any noise save the echoing of his sandals on the floor and the rise and the trailing of quills on parchment. Once outside, he made his way towards a well, where he took a moment to wash his hands and face.


    Relieved, he padded his way back to the front of the shop.


    A dainty woman was peeking through the open doorway.


    Her appearance was so unusual that Percival was unable to hide his immediate reaction to it. He stared at her.


    The woman was caring a satchel under her right arm and was leaning that way as if she could barely manage the weight. Despite that, she vibrated like ink in the well during an earth tremor. The loud clanking of metal came from within the bag as she moved.


    ¡°Ah!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°S¡¯pose you¡¯re not closed after all.¡±


    ¡°Do you require my assistance?¡± he asked her. The reaction had been engrained over the years and by now was almost automatic.


    ¡°That¡¯d be great. Y¡¯see, I need lotsa copies of something made fast. By the end of the day, preferably.¡±


    Percival inspected her appearance once more. She wore an ill-fitting leather jerkin and leggings. A red ponytail jutted out to one side, partially concealed by a wide brimmed floppy hat. The girl did not look well off. He doubted she could afford his rates.


    ¡°Are you certain you are at the correct establishment, miss¡­¡±


    ¡°Songbird,¡± she replied glibly. ¡°S¡¯pose I don¡¯t look like I belong here. S¡¯fine.¡±


    The name disturbed the dust on the back shelves of his mind. He could not place a finger on why.


    She sauntered inside. For a moment, Percival was concerned that she would unbalance and knock over one of the many important documents. His worries were clearly misplaced. Songbird was far more careful than her initial appearance suggested. She made her way past valuable books and manuscripts without even disturbing the dust. Even so, it was evident to Percival that she was struggling under the load she bore. Groaning with effort, she heaved the bag onto the counter top. He could almost hear the wood creak under the strain as she did so. Her right hand reached inside the satchel and withdrew an object. She set the object down beside the bag.


    Percival could feel his eyebrows climb as he took in what he saw.


    An entire gold bar sat and glimmered beside his transcription.


    ¡°Have care for an old man. Revealing such a vast sum with no warning was nearly enough to sever the thread of my years.¡±


    A glimmer of mischief sparkled in her eyes briefly before it winked out.


    ¡°Now, y¡¯see, this shit here¡¯s heavy. I don¡¯t want to be carrying it back to my mistress. If I could¡¯ve trusted someone else to carry it, I would¡¯ve sent them here myself. Think y¡¯can take her commission?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I misjudged,¡± Percival informed her diplomatically. It was hard to maintain a measured cadence. It was evident to him that there was a fortune of gold stowed away in the bag. That could be determined by the strain she was under while lifting it. ¡°Would you care to inform me as to the identity of your mistress and what it is she wishes to have transcribed.¡±


    ¡°Invitations,¡± Songbird replied. She spread her arms theatrically and grinned at him.


    ¡°Invitations.¡± Percival repeated woodenly. ¡°Invitations for what?¡±


    What manner of eccentric lord spends such a fortune on invitations?


    ¡°She¡¯s hosting a fancy event in three days,¡± Songbird stated animatedly. ¡°Needs letters sent to all the lords and ladies in Aisne. Not just the big shitters like Quentin and Verrill, also the small shitters. ¡®Specially the small shitters.¡±


    The city is consumed by feuding and the nobles hold balls.


    ¡°I require both the identity of your mistress and an example of her regalia.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯fine,¡± her right hand descended into the bag once more. Songbird rustled around for a moment. Percival knew that surely naked avarice must grace his visage as he heard the clinking of metal from within. Finally, Songbird withdrew a metallic badge and gently held it out towards him. Percival¡¯s wrinkled fingers reached out and he seized the object. Despite being small enough to fit within the palm of his hands, it was heavy. He brought it up to eye level and examined it critically.


    The outside of the crest had been traced in pure silver. The interior contained the embossed image of a golden staircase with a silver handrail on the right. The path ascended towards the heavens. The lower portion of the staircase was steeped in darker imagery. A battlefield of carnage. He assessed the image critically. It was overly symbolic. The type of pretentious ornamentation that he had come to expect from the church.


    ¡°Would you care to shed light on the nature of this livery?¡±


    Songbird looked towards the floor and muttered a few words under her breath. They were inaudible to him. Raising her head once more, she looked up and met his gaze.


    ¡°My boss is a hero. She¡¯s not a noble, but she wants to gab with them.¡±


    Creation must surely be suffering a curse when even the chosen indulge in this madness.


    Percival¡¯s eyebrows rose.


    ¡°I do not recall any of those chosen by above possessing such extreme material wealth.¡±


    Songbird snorted. ¡°She¡¯s a bit of an exception. Anyhow, can you do it?¡±


    ¡°That depends on the exact nature of your inquiry. For now, I am satisfied that you can afford my services.¡±


    ¡°Invites distributed to every royal fuck and important functionary currently in Aisne. I know not all of them are here. Sent out by the end of the day.¡±


    ¡°It is within my ability to arrange,¡± he admitted. His workers would likely break their quills under the strain of it. ¡°The fee for arranging the production and distribution of missives addressed to every present lord without sufficient notice will not come cheaply. I take it this is not beyond your mistress¡¯s means?¡±


    ¡°Definitely not.¡±


    He was uncertain how the woman had learned about him, but there was no use pretending he was unable to meet her demands. It was unlikely she had darkened his door by chance. Even more so given the nature of her mistress.


    ¡°Would you care to provide me with the relevant details?¡±


    ¡°Fated Connections,¡± Songbird replied glibly.


    His eyebrows rose. That was not a noble¡¯s estate. It was an expensive establishment, but still one that would be looked down on.


    ¡°Are you certain that your mistress is spending her coins wisely? This does not seem like the most prudent course of action. It is unlikely that any of the nobility will make the effort to attend.¡±


    ¡°Oh they will,¡± she said, smiling. ¡°M¡¯sure of that. The letters are from the Aspirant.¡±


    Hearing that Name explained her sense of certainty. There were rumours whispered in dark corners concerning the Aspirant. It was alleged that she was coveted among the nobility. She would be courted, he was sure of it. If only for her ability to aid with construction work.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Does your mistress wish to have appropriate gifts attached to each missive?¡±


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly.¡±


    ¡°Are there any other particulars you would like included in this commission?¡±


    ¡°Here,¡± Songbird reached into the bag one last time and withdrew a crumpled sheet. She extended it towards him. He seized the parchment gingerly and smoothed out the wrinkles before examining the surface. It only took a glance for him to determine that he held a rough draft of the invitation¡¯s contents. The draft provided many pertinent details. Both the time of the event and the location, as well as the intention to discuss a peaceful resolution to the ongoing conflict in the Aisne. A note was made that letters to any officials who ruled directly over farmers should be granted special consideration.


    Percival performed the mental calculations. It would be necessary to obtain a list of the present lords in the city. Determining appropriate gifts for each noble lord would be the harder task. Neither were beyond his means. The true challenge would be completing the commission before the last light of the sun faded away. His apprentices would be hard at work transcribing copies of the invitation and acquiring the correct gifts.


    ¡°This task will not be cheap,¡± he warned.


    ¡°Course it won¡¯t. Taylor can afford it. It¡¯s time and people she needs. S¡¯why she¡¯s paying you and not trying to arrange this herself. She could prob¡¯ly make the invites if she cared to. It¡¯s getting them to people that''s the problem.¡±


    Percival found himself doubting the chosen was capable of fulfilling his role, but chose not to offend the eccentric servant. Silence was often wiser.


    ¡°If you are certain that you wish for this task to be undertaken.¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    ¡°Then let us ink out the finer details before we finalize our agreement.¡±


    <hr>


    The rhythmic sound of hooves against the cobbled path ceased. Lord Mallory felt the carriage draw to a halt. The lids of his eyes opened. The dying light of the waning sun warmed his old bones from his right. He winced as the rays pierced his eyes. He turned his gaze to the left in order to escape the light. His carriage had at last arrived beside the entrance to his summer estate.


    One of his servants helped him descend from his carriage. He dismissed the man, who proceeded to draw the carriage away. Mallory¡¯s frequent discussions with Verrill had proven successful. While Quintin had seized the guard in an iron grip and Garson had his grubby hands buried within the treasury, Verrill had taken the reins of the peasantry.


    They merely needed to position the Shatranj pieces correctly and all would fall into place. It would not take much effort to shepherd the attention of the peasant rebellion towards their opponents. The scheme had already borne fruit.


    Mallory had organized the bribery of the more zealous guards under Quintin¡¯s command. It had been as simple as taking taxes from the peasants to convince the guards to attack the peasantry. They were directed towards parts of the peasantry who he knew harboured deep resentment from those above. It was to his advantage that he understood the people that he ruled. Verrill would allow the resentment to build before he spoke out against Quintin. It would be hard for the man to deny that the supposed actions of his guardsmen were unchivalrous.


    Stoke the fires of anger in the peasantry far enough, and they would see his purpose fulfilled. The end of Quintin¡¯s yarn would slowly become unravelled. It would be easy to cultivate the right image in the aftermath. He would merely need to offer some meagre concessions in conciliation. Once the anger of the peasants was sated, Verill would be crowned as Prince of Aisne.


    As the fortunes of one man rose, Lord Mallory would rise with him.


    Cane in hand, he hobbled down the paved path past neatly trimmed rose bushes and slowly approached the doorway to his residence. His joints creaked with every step. The red-brick three-storey building pierced the sky above him triumphantly. A glorious testament to the achievements of his family in years past.


    A feeling of unease pulled at the edge of his mind as he approached. He was unable to determine the shape of it. Lord Mallory seized the doorknob, opened the door, and hobbled his way inside. The wooden floors creaked underfoot. Thump, thump, thump. He strode on three legs down the hallway, past the tapestries heralding his family¡¯s proud history. He ignored the library and his personal study on the right and left, respectively. The events of such a fruitful day called for a celebratory drink. Mallory made his way into the parlour as a result.


    Fury seized him when his eyes settled upon what waited within.


    A dagger had been plunged through the surface of his over a century old dining table. It was irreplaceable. Straining his eyes, he examined the scene closer. The dagger was not the only oddity. The blade passed through several parchments, pinning them to the table¡¯s surface.


    An epiphany came to him then. The source of his unease.


    He had seen neither hide nor hair of his family. His servants were likewise indisposed.


    The grasping claws of the peasantry climbed their way up his spine.


    Mallory made his way closer towards the table. He moved almost as if under a spell. His back creaked as he bent over to examine the contents of the parchment. It was detailed documentation providing proof of his attempt to manipulate the rebellion. It explained the part he played in Verrill¡¯s schemes and proved his guilt without a doubt.


    He felt the edge of a blade press against his throat.


    ¡°Good evening, Lord Mallory,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said from behind him. The tone was measured, calculated. ¡°You and I are going to have a talk.¡±


    He started to crane his neck in order to catch sight of his assailant. The dagger dug in deeper. His heart clenched in fear.


    ¡°None of that,¡± the voice commanded sharply.


    A hand pressed itself against the base of Mallory¡¯s back. It began to guide him firmly towards one of the chairs.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± the voice said neutrally.


    Mallory did as ordered. The situation could be salvaged. His assailant had yet to cut the thread of his life loose. It was evident that there was room for him to bargain. He sunk into the velvet upholstered seating. The fireplace flickered ominously across from him.


    The woman walked around him languidly. His eyes were downcast and all they saw was the dress of black and white servant¡¯s livery. The knife remained pressed to his neck at all times as she moved. She sat on the table before him. Seizing his head, she tilted it to face her brown eyes. He knew who she was.


    ¡°You know who I am.¡±


    ¡°Songbird,¡± he stated, keeping his voice measured.


    The woman was known to be one of Princess Mathilda¡¯s senior ambassadors. Curiously, she was not often observed involving herself in politics. Unlike the others, she was rumoured to have a darker past. The woman had a reputation for being a tier of loose ends. Whether it was true was left as a matter of debate. There was little evidence one way or the other.


    Songbird had been stationed in Aisne not even a year past. That was before the rebellion had truly gained momentum. He was surprised that she was present once more, considering that she had been recalled.


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°In three days time, my new boss will be hosting an event,¡± she said in a hard tone. ¡°Do you know who she is?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± he kept his voice measured as he replied. He started to lean back in an attempt to make some room between himself and the dagger¡¯s edge.


    Songbird¡¯s face remained flat. The blade dug deeper into his throat. He winced.


    ¡°Let me weave a story for you,¡± she began conversationally. The cadence of her voice was completely at odds with the expression on her face. It was uncanny to watch. ¡°Some time in the recent past, I found myself out in the swamp near Brus. It was an entirely unpleasant affair. One day, I was sharing a meal with some of my compatriots when this girl who looked like she carried the weight of the world wandered over to the fire. Benevolent soul that I am, I made the attempt to cheer her up. With just a few words, I started to learn more about her. What I learned inspired me to ask a few questions. That was when I discovered she was a hero. Can you guess who she was?¡±


    ¡°You had encountered the Aspirant,¡± Lord Mallory replied.


    ¡°Well, it seems you can be right about something at least. Now, can you guess what happened next?¡±


    ¡°She brought Prince Amaury¡¯s army to a halt.¡±


    ¡°So the news did reach down this far south then,¡± she mused. ¡°That makes this discussion easier. Right. She stopped an army. Now, here¡¯s the part you¡¯re missing.¡±


    Songbird paused for a moment. The only sound in the building was the crackling from the logs in the fire.


    ¡°The look on her face when she came back to the rest of us? Irritation and disappointment.¡± Songbird explained. ¡°She was not tired or exhausted. It was like a mother who had looked at a baby doing something she disapproved of and had gently reached out to stop it. Now, do you know what¡¯s scary about that?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me?¡± Mallory replied irritably. Could the woman not come to her point instead of narrating? It was evident to him that she did not mean to sever his thread. Once accord had been reached, he could settle in and enjoy a drink by the fire.


    The blade against his throat dug in deeper. He felt blood start to run. Mallory paled.


    ¡°It¡¯s scary because something happened to the girl in the past. She doesn¡¯t talk about what that event is. Whatever it was, was so utterly terrifying that it scared her into trying to be a hero. Because I¡¯m certain that she thinks that she was a villain before. Every now and again, I like to remind her to be a saint. Just in case she forgets. See, I don¡¯t know what it takes to scare a girl who can dismiss an army at a thought into being good. What I do know is that I don¡¯t want to see what happens when she stops trying.¡±


    ¡°Why are you bringing all of this to my attention?¡± Lord Mallory croaked.


    ¡°I realized then that somebody has to support her. She needs someone in her corner no matter what, making sure that she doesn¡¯t snap. Whether that''s a friend, or a lover or simply a shoulder to cry on, I decided I would be that person. It¡¯s taken a while of poking and prodding to work out her sore points. I don¡¯t know her perfectly yet, but I¡¯m making progress. You know what I decided she requires?¡± Songbird¡¯s voice hardened for a moment.


    ¡°It is evident from your narration that she requires a bard,¡± Mallory stated drily.


    ¡°That too,¡± Songbird agreed. ¡°But it wasn¡¯t what I decided on. She requires a friend willing to get their hands dirty for her. A person prepared to threaten to burn your life to the ground if you don¡¯t behave, and then follow that through to the end.¡±


    She tapped the documents on the table meaningfully.


    ¡°See, if she finds out you did this, she¡¯ll kill you herself,¡± Songbird hissed. ¡°Then she will hate herself for it. She will tell herself that maybe if she searched, there was a better answer to be found. It¡¯s kind of a consequence of who she is. Imagine what it¡¯s like when you can do almost anything. She feels she holds all the answers, and it''s on her if she¡¯s not smart enough to determine the correct one.¡±


    Songbird leaned in close. Mallory could feel her breath tickle against his moustache.


    ¡°I¡¯m not about to see the best hope we have against the threats in the north fall tumbling into the hells because a few ambitious Alamans lords decide to push her too far. This is how this is going to work. You¡¯re going to attend her little party and listen to everything she says. If you don¡¯t do that, your entire family is going to die.¡±


    Songbird paused speaking for a moment.


    A stillness fell over the room.


    Mallory dared not speak.


    ¡°The only reason I¡¯m letting you live is that Taylor needs people who can prevent the principality from burning to the ground. Unfortunately for her, you¡¯re one of them. So you¡¯re going to listen to everything she says. Don¡¯t even think about being creative in your interpretation of her words. Then you¡¯re going to attempt to solve all the problems she raises, in a manner she would approve of. And if you think to talk about this, well¡­ Remember. What she doesn¡¯t know doesn¡¯t hurt her, but what she does know definitely hurts you. Do you understand what I mean?¡±


    ¡°Your message has been received.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad that we could resolve this amicably. Now I only have a few more individuals like you to converse with before the day draws to a close.¡±

 Liminal 3.07

    ¡°All it takes to ignite a revolution is a few words in the right ears. Everything else occurs afterwards.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Terribilis II


    <hr>


    I resisted the urge to pick at the dress I was wearing while I stared at my reflection. It was the extravagant one I had worn on the first day I had awoken in Rhenia. Cordelia had let me keep it, and this event made it feel appropriate. I was coated in far more powders than I would have liked. Songbird had convinced me of the necessity.


    I took a moment to turn the wall of the room from a mirrored surface back into painted brick.


    ¡°Are you sure they will show up?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Absolutely!¡± Songbird chimed in response from beside me. ¡°The real important assholes won¡¯t show up. They¡¯d consider it unseemly. But the lesser nobility? They¡¯d jump for the chance.¡±


    She was right about the influential nobles. Ever since my failed attempt at a quiet entry, they had sent invitations to events they were hosting. Politely worded requests for me to attend balls or soir¨¦es. The events apparently went on uninterrupted despite the state of the city.


    The missives were phrased in a way that made it sound like it was a privilege and I would be giving offence if I refused entirely. They typically contained a list of dates and times for several events that I had been invited to, with a strong recommendation to ¡°attend at my earliest convenience.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t accepted any of them yet. I hadn¡¯t refused, either.


    The deadline for the first was still two days away. I had yet to make up my mind.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re twice as ambitious as the big shits up top. They have to be, else they die out. You¡¯re a chance they can¡¯t miss.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure the people I need will be there?¡±


    ¡°Course. They¡¯re the most desperate.¡±


    I grimaced. ¡°Hope I don¡¯t mess this up.¡±


    ¡°Relax, you¡¯ll manage.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know how you arranged this in just three days.¡± I turned and looked her way.


    Songbird was also dressed up for once. She wore an opulent blue dress with dark silk gloves. If someone had told me she could look anything other than a mess, I would have expressed doubt. It was a pleasant surprise.


    She shrugged. ¡°Gabbed with the right people. Some prob¡¯ly won¡¯t show up. Don¡¯t be too disappointed if this doesn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Better for me to try first. I know I¡¯m not good at politicking, but¡­ nobody will like the alternative.¡±


    Especially me.


    ¡°S¡¯pose that¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know how you managed to invite every noble in the city.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not like It''s that complicated. Only the ones you care for will accept.¡±


    Sure it isn¡¯t.


    Leaving the room, I made my way down from the third floor. Songbird trailed behind me. Maude was filled with energy. Ever since we had informed her of our intentions, she had come to life. The bottom floor had been cleared out. Tables and chairs had been removed so that there was space for people to dance. It had cost me a little, but staff had been hired on at the place once more.


    Now it was time to wait.


    Standing stiffly on the second floor balcony, I watched as the sun set.


    Yvette sat at the table beside me. She was busy annotating notes of experiments the two of us had performed earlier. The surface of the table itself was a mess. Parchment littered it. The mess was not entirely her fault, either. The notes she had made me were pushed in one corner. I took the chance to read them whenever I had the opportunity.


    One by one, carriages started to arrive. I stared out at the clear sky as the sun started to set.


    Songbird greeted the guests below. I wasn¡¯t sure how she knew all of their names. I was just glad that somebody did.


    The gentle strumming of a harp could be heard from downstairs.


    Finally, Songbird came up to the balcony.


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly best you appear now. It¡¯s time for you to mingle.¡±


    The crescent moon had risen. Stars shone down brightly from above. Despite this, it was still too dark to see properly. I took a moment to suspend a pale blue orb of light above the table so that Yvette could continue with her work.


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    Exiting the balcony, I started to make my way towards the staircase.


    ¡°¡­ of the civil war is preposterous.¡± a woman¡¯s voice said from near the top of the staircase.


    I pushed my hair to the side ¡ª a couple of black strands had found their way before my eyes ¡ª and looked in her direction. It was a woman in her mid-twenties who was talking to a girl in her late teens.


    ¡°It most certainly is,¡± the girl she was talking to tittered in response.


    ¡°Did you receive word of Am¨¦lie¡¯s engagement?¡± The first sipped idly from a wineglass as she spoke. The last of the red trickled into her mouth. She signalled for one of the waiters soon after.


    ¡°I did. Such a scandalous affair,¡± her conversation partner tossed her head back theatrically, her auburn hair swaying as she did so.


    ¡°I know. You would think someone of her breeding would set her sights higher. To think: had she played the game better, she could have caught the attention of Lord Verril. He¡¯s still unattached.¡± The first replied. She wore a red dress and stood on the opposite side of a transparent wall of force I had erected to block off the balcony.


    A man in a formal white and black suit approached them with a tray held up under his left hand. It was one of the establishment¡¯s staff. After taking the empty glass, he disappeared from view.


    ¡°She was always one who lacked the sharpness required for the ebb and flow.¡±


    A chill breeze picked up and blew my hair back into my face. I shivered.


    Both women turned my way. They looked at me like sharks appraising a fish.


    ¡°My, such a marvellous outfit,¡± the older woman said in an exaggerated tone. ¡°When I was first informed about this little gathering, I was uncertain whether I should attend. It is most fortuitous that I did. To think that one of the chosen is so well-bred. You would do well to educate your peers.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Elodie and I were busy contemplating the subject of Am¨¦lie¡¯s betrothal. Have you any thoughts on the matter?¡± The younger one asked.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been following the situation. I only recently arrived in Aisne,¡± pausing, I gathered my thoughts.¡°Do you have any insights regarding the ongoing rebellion?¡±


    Try to shift the conversation subtly, Taylor.


    Elodie sniffed, ¡°Then your ignorance is understandable. Allow us to alleviate it. You see, Am¨¦lie was well positioned to¡­¡±


    I engaged the two of them in conversation for a few moments more before eventually excusing myself. The two of them proved far too adept in redirecting the conversation for me to say what I wanted.


    I descended onto the floor below. People mingled on the sides. Those who wished to dance did so in the middle of the room. A part of me wished to do so as well. On Earth, I had been so focused on worrying about the end of the world that I hadn¡¯t really had the time to enjoy things like formal dancing.


    The idea was tempting. Unfortunately, reputation actually mattered to these people. Making a fool of myself would actually have repercussions, else I might have considered it.


    I spotted an elderly man in a flamboyant yellow suit who was leaning against the wall with a cane resting beside him. He shook every now and again. The ravages of time hadn¡¯t been kind to him. He was one of the few people who was alone.


    I approached.


    ¡°Good evening, chosen,¡± he greeted me smoothly. ¡°I am Lord Mallory, and it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡±


    ¡°Good evening,¡± I replied. I noticed he had a fresh injury on his neck. ¡°Would you like me to heal that?¡±


    ¡°It is a minor injury, there is no need to attend to it.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but notice a slight tremor in his voice.


    Weird.


    ¡°Do you have any insights regarding the ongoing rebellion?¡±


    ¡°Such a tragedy, isn¡¯t it?¡± he tutted. ¡°I am an ardent supporter of Lord Verrill¡¯s faction. He is largely responsible for overseeing the administration of the farmlands. The conflict is unsustainable.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how much I trusted the man. Right now, that didn¡¯t matter. If he was involved with overseeing the fieldworkers, he was definitely someone I needed to talk to. They accounted for the majority of Aisne¡¯s peasantry.


    ¡°Right. Are you able to help manage the situation?¡±


    ¡°So long as Quintin retains his grasp on power, I consider it unlikely that the rebellion will do anything but escalate,¡± the man mused.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think talking to the peasants would help? Explaining why their approach won¡¯t work. Maybe suggest better methods to raise their concerns.¡±


    ¡°I find that¡­¡±


    The two of us talked for a while before I finally moved on. He hadn¡¯t committed to anything, but he was willing to discuss the matter further at a later date. It was a start. I started to approach other people. There were a few who were oddly attentive. They all appeared terrified of me, although I wasn¡¯t sure exactly why. I¡¯d need to talk to Songbird about it.


    The nobility who were desperate were almost eager to discuss the situation with me. The officials whose charges had one day simply disappeared, or the ones who properties were being burned to the ground. They didn¡¯t have the power to do anything, but they were willing to listen.


    Unfortunately, most discussions were far less productive. It appeared that almost everyone who hadn¡¯t had ¡°misfortune¡± strike them was categorically incapable of understanding the problem. I was beginning to hate the words ebb and flow.


    ¡°¡­ Consider the benefits of wedding yourself into my household¡­¡±


    There were so many wedding proposals.


    ¡°¡­ Should you be willing to rebuild the¡­¡±


    But even more requests for construction work.


    ¡°¡­ The historical significance of the¡­ I strongly suggest you take it upon yourself to restore them.¡±


    The attempts to woo me continued. Gradually my patience wore down. The only person who looked genuinely happy was the owner of the establishment. She was ecstatic. All of her guests had plenty of coins to spare. Everyone else presented a mask.


    On and on it went. When it wasn¡¯t political conniving that I didn¡¯t care for, it was requests for me to serve the interests of one lord or the other. Who even wanted a statue of themselves in silver anyhow? It was unreasonably gaudy. Unwilling to tolerate it much longer, I climbed towards the top of the staircase.


    I looked down on the clamour of discussion from above.


    Do I make a scene?


    I decided it was worth the cost of losing whatever reputation I might otherwise accrue. It was obvious that without more practise I was unable to verbally fence with the nobility. It was best that I at least attempt to say my piece.


    A coruscating beam of light manifested in the middle of the establishment. All conversation ground to a halt.


    ¡°I invited all of you here to discuss the state of Aisne,¡± I whispered.


    My voice reverberated throughout the building. Taking a page out of the Prince of Nightfall¡¯s book, I made it echo in the very air itself. It was tempting to float above them all, but I didn¡¯t want any of them peering under my dress.


    ¡°Some of you have more authority than others. Most of you directly engage with the peasantry. You should be aware of what¡¯s happening. The rebellion. The killings of the peasants needs to stop. Every time one of them dies, another family joins the rebellion. If it continues long enough, they will burn everything to the ground. You might think because they are uneducated and lack resources, they can¡¯t fight back. You¡¯re wrong. There are more of them than you. It¡¯s also easier to destroy than to create. If they were to set the city alight, how long would it take to recover?¡±


    I paused, watching the reaction of the crowd. They all looked towards me.


    ¡°It goes the other way as well. I expect that some of you are involved with the rebellion. You won¡¯t admit who you are. I don¡¯t know if you are doing it out of ambition or a genuine desire to do good. It doesn¡¯t matter. Think about how long it takes to build up society. How hard it will be to restore what you burn down. Ask yourselves if it¡¯s worth it. If you keep heading in this direction, then everyone suffers. I know that things are unfair. That doesn¡¯t mean this will fix anything at all.¡±


    I took in a deep breath before continuing.


    ¡°In the land I came from, mass protests were used to enact change. Everyone that was unhappy would rise up and protest. Many of those protests were mostly peaceful. It might not work here. I might be wrong to suggest it. But consider this: if you fail to try it first and instead send Aisne up in flames, you will have caused the worst outcome instead. Think about all the things that you¡¯re breaking that you can¡¯t easily replace. Stop focusing on the things that don¡¯t matter and actually think about what Aisne will look like if you aren¡¯t properly responsible. I¡¯ve spoken with some of you already. If you want to discuss this with me further, leave a letter before you depart. I want to come up with an answer that doesn¡¯t involve everyone losing. One that all of you are able to accept, even if you aren¡¯t happy with it.¡±


    Finishing my speech, I examined my audience before leaving to the balcony beside Yvette. I erected a barrier that blocked anyone else from approaching. The evening had left me feeling emotionally drained, and it wasn¡¯t even done.


    Taking a seat, I turned my attention back towards Yvette¡¯s notes. I glared at the summary of ¡®On Rule¡¯ balefully. It made me wish I had copies of earth¡¯s political discourse. The ideas it proposed were vile.


    I turned around once more and aimed my gaze below. The festivities had resumed. There was a low level of bustle as people danced to-and-fro. I watched them idly from above as they continued to scheme and connive while the city burned.


    I hoped my speech achieved something.


    Songbird danced across the floor below. She was flirting with everything that moved. I had come to learn that was just the way she was. She started to make her way up the stairs. I dropped the barrier briefly as she approached.


    Swaggering towards our table, she placed a cup of tea before the both of us.


    ¡°You sure you don¡¯t wanna have a proper drink?¡± she nagged me.


    This wasn¡¯t the first time she asked. Merely the first time tonight.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had bad experiences with drinking in the past,¡± I replied.


    ¡°No I¡¯m fine I¡¯m busy going over the notes from the experiments Taylor and I did earlier it''s fascinating I think I can probably start making a working similar to what she does with light,¡± Yvette replied, not looking up from a stack of pages in front of her.


    Yvette was so absorbed in what she was doing, she didn¡¯t realize that the offer hadn¡¯t been made to her.


    ¡°C¡¯mon you spoilsport,¡± Songbird pouted. ¡°You¡¯re so moody that if I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d think Keter was invading.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just tired,¡± I admitted. ¡°Dealing with this¡­¡±


    She waited a while, then sighed when she realized I was done talking. Finally, she sauntered off to fetch her own drink.


    The Hands had done good work since our arrival in the city. Unsurprisingly, they already had some information for us to work with. The situation wasn¡¯t pretty. Displays like the one we had witnessed had been happening for weeks now. The guards had been ordered to beat or arrest anyone who attended. The worse guards were creative in their interpretation of that. The nobles didn¡¯t seem to mind if lives were lost.


    None of the peasantry was happy with the situation. I didn¡¯t blame them.


    They were calling the current autocrat Quentin the Usurper.


    He wasn¡¯t the only hated noble. Just the one with the most actual authority. Verrill and Garson were also up on the list. I had received invitations from all three of them. Common sentiment couldn¡¯t agree on which noble they actually wanted to rule. Only that the current one should hang.


    It gave me a headache just thinking about it.


    Songbird came back and flopped down onto the chair to my left. Her fingers trailed along my arm as she did so. She leaned in close.


    ¡°Want to have some fun after the kid goes to sleep?¡± she whispered.


    ¡°It¡¯s really not a good idea. You have other loyalties. I don¡¯t want to tie myself to Princess Mathilda that way.¡±


    I was in a better headspace than I had been on the road before. The idea of being romantically entangled with somebody was no longer something I was against. I wasn¡¯t against casual sex, either. Just¡­ Songbird definitely wasn¡¯t a smart person to become involved with. It was unfair to call her a honeypot. I did think she genuinely wanted to follow me around. I just didn¡¯t want to commit to something with someone I knew had other loyalties.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    My relationship with Brian had been enough of an angst filled mess for me to not want a repeat performance. I¡¯d try to be a little smarter about my love life. At least, that¡¯s what I was telling myself. I suspected if I found someone I actually liked that my emotions would be having a much bigger say in the matter.


    It was easy to say I was being smart about relationships when I wasn¡¯t looking at people I wanted to be in one with.


    ¡°Taylor, you need to relax some time,¡± she huffed, ¡°A good fuck would do you wonders. I once visited a place in Levant and there was this girl there who showed me this trick with her-¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t something I¡¯m going to change my mind on soon,¡± I cut in.


    ¡°Ergh. Fine.¡± Songbird whined.


    ¡°It¡¯s late and I¡¯m going to sleep goodnight you two see you in the morning,¡± Yvette yawned while chattering. She left the table soon after.


    Conversation died there.


    We sat in silence, listening to the clamour of the people I invited. Songbird departed once more. Slowly, the place emptied out. Songbird ushered them out. I should have been more involved in the process. Unfortunately, I did not know enough not to mess it all up. By the time it was just the two of us, it must have been nearly midnight.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I achieved anything.¡±


    ¡°Give it some time. Maybe some will listen,¡± she encouraged.


    ¡°Hope so.¡±


    ¡°So, we¡¯ve frisked the city properly. Gabbed with everyone willing to listen aside from the three up top. This is what we¡¯ve found so far.¡± She pulled a crumpled piece of paper out from inside a bag beside her and flattened it on the table.


    It was a map of the city with territories marked out.


    I looked over it.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t mention this until now?¡±


    She shrugged, ¡°Took a while to verify. ¡®Sides, you were busy.¡±


    ¡°So, the area around the palace sees no Rebel activity at all.-¡±


    ¡°No surprises there,¡± Songbird interrupted. ¡°It¡¯s patrolled in force.¡±


    ¡°-There is some Rebel activity near the Hall of Records.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not sure what they want with a bunch of stuffy old books.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of books. Did you find any for me?¡±


    ¡°M¡¯working on it.


    She grinned mockingly. It felt like she was making an active effort to try to elicit a smile.


    ¡°There are active rebel markings in the poorer parts of the city, and fighting often breaks out on the streets.¡±


    ¡°Pfft, get to the good stuff!¡± she snorted.


    ¡°Lastly, another major granary was burned down.¡± I tapped the location of the granary in the southwest part of the city.


    ¡°See, toldya it was good,¡± she smirked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not seeing anything new from this,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Check the times,¡± she pressed.


    Frowning, I looked at the times noted next to each attack against the granaries. They were always timed at night and always at a similar time to attacks launched against the Hall of Records.


    ¡°Why do they always launch an attack against the Hall of Records at the same time as they launch an attack against another major target?¡± I asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I want to know too!¡± she quietly exclaimed. ¡°See, one of the Hands went up to the place and snooped around a bit. The place is guarded tighter than a bank in Mercantis.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t entirely certain how she knew how tightly a bank in Mercantis was guarded.


    Breaking into the Hall of Records ourselves to find out what was in there was an option. It wasn¡¯t my first choice, though.


    ¡°Do we have any leads on the location of a Rebel base? They probably don¡¯t have one. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re decentralized. It¡¯s best to be certain.¡±


    The markings for shows like the one we had seen were in almost every other back alley on the map. The only exceptions were places with strong military presences.


    ¡°Nah. But if one exists, it¡¯ll be somewhere in the slums. I¡¯d bet on it. That way, if the guards do find them, they¡¯ll need to piss people off in the fight.¡±


    I examined the map closer. Four granaries burned down was a big deal.


    ¡°How¡¯s Quentin handling the food situation?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose you wouldn¡¯t know since you¡¯ve spent the past few days failing to gab with nobles. He¡¯s cutting back food among the poor. Hiking up prices as well.¡±


    ¡°What happens to people that can¡¯t afford to eat?¡±


    ¡°They starve,¡± Songbird shrugged nonchalantly. ¡°People that get caught stealing food have their hand broken.¡±


    If people were already starving now, I hated to think what winter would be like.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t Aisne one of the breadbaskets of Procer?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯right. They export most of their produce.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t they have enough to feed people if they cut down on exports?¡±


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly, but then they¡¯d have fewer coins. Quentin wants to hike the exports up. He¡¯s making up for lost revenue.¡±


    I had no idea how the man would justify doing that. There was no way he didn¡¯t end up gutted by a crowd.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯m letting him stay in charge,¡± I muttered darkly.


    Songbird¡¯s eyebrows went all the way up. ¡°Going to go all regicide on him?¡±


    ¡°If I have to.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d hold off on it a bit first. People¡¯ll be less likely to listen to you if you start offing royal heads.¡±


    ¡°Nobles, not people.¡± I corrected her.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying nobles aren¡¯t people?¡±


    ¡°They are. But they¡¯re the only ones that would complain.¡±


    She did have a point, but not for the reason she thought. I doubted Cordelia would be happy if I started killing her ¡°peers¡± even if they did earn it. Not because they were dead, but because of the precedent it would set. If I wanted to get rid of Quentin, it would need to be in a way that was ¡°acceptable¡± by the Princes.


    And I was definitely removing the man from power.


    ¡°S¡¯pose so, but you¡¯re forgetting something.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Who takes charge after.¡±


    Right¡­ Consequences. I hadn¡¯t been thinking of them, but I had paid attention.


    ¡°The nobles who attended were mostly in favour of Verrill. It makes sense. If I want their assistance, I¡¯d probably need to support him. I¡¯m¡­ not so sure what I think about him. The stalemate will probably drag out between him and Garson after Quentin is gone. I need to form an opinion on the both of them. I also need to consider nobles outside those three.¡±


    Despite how draining the event had been, I had mostly paid attention. Not as much as Songbird probably had, but enough to start establishing an idea of what people were willing to say. I doubted it was what they thought inside. At least I knew who they overtly supported.


    It was important that I established both who could rule and who would be an acceptable ruler. While I didn¡¯t want to be the one choosing who ruled, I wasn¡¯t above putting my foot down on who wouldn¡¯t. It was a small distinction. That didn¡¯t mean it wasn¡¯t an important one. I had seen enough of Principate¡¯s ruling class now to have a very clear picture of just how awful so many of them were.


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly means you¡¯re gonna have to accept those invitations.¡±


    It did.


    ¡°Peasants are still joining the revolution?¡±


    ¡°They are,¡± she confirmed. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter if the revolution is responsible for the food shortage. The nobles are the ones pressing down.¡±


    It scared me how well the Revolutionary¡¯s plan was working. The tactics being used were monstrous, but effective.


    ¡°When and where was Princess Clotilde last seen?¡± I inquired. I expected she was dead. There was no harm making sure.


    ¡°In the Palace, about a month ago,¡± Songbird replied.


    On the top right side of the map, I took note of a set of numbers annotated.


    ¡°What are these?¡±


    ¡°Guards that have been moved to defend the remaining granaries.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how many troops there were in Aisne. That didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t able to render judgements with numbers this large. This was a substantial move in the deployment of guardsmen. Guards that would have to come from somewhere else.


    ¡°What locations are normally heavily guarded?¡±


    ¡°Wanna know where the guards were moved from?¡± She smiled conspiratorially at me across the table.


    ¡°Please.¡±


    It couldn¡¯t be from the streets, considering how heavily patrolled they were. It couldn¡¯t be from the affluent parts of the city, because after the deaths there, they were on high alert. I wasn¡¯t sure what that left.


    ¡°The Royal Armoury,¡± smug satisfaction in her voice.


    My heart sank. If there was a reduction in the guard on the armoury, that meant that was where it was likely they were next to attack.


    ¡°Can we expect them to attack the Royal Armoury then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly!¡± Songbird chimed.


    ¡°For now, investigate the Hall of Records and the Palace further. I want to know what¡¯s going on in both places.¡±


    ¡°Got it. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m out of ideas involving the nobility. Let¡¯s see if we can catch some rebels.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose you have a plan?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. The three of us will covertly watch the Royal Armoury. Maybe we can find out more about the revolution there.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good to me.¡±


    ¡°Is there any more news?¡± I asked.


    She shrugged.


    ¡°They crucified two rich fucks who were caught inside a brothel. S¡¯pose you would want to know. Quentin had the place burned to the ground in retaliation.¡±


    ¡°Anyone important?¡± I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°The man who used to be in charge of Aisne¡¯s treasury before Garson took over. The other person didn¡¯t matter.¡± she replied.


    Well, that was one way to add more fuel to the flames.


    ¡°See if you can learn anything more about that.¡± I finished.


    The two of us went to sleep not long after. At least, I tried to. Songbird had evidently decided that if I wouldn¡¯t sleep with her, she would find someone else who would. The noises coming from the room next door were loud, to the point that it was difficult to sleep.


    Eventually, I dozed off.


    I woke up bleary-eyed the next day. I hadn¡¯t slept well. It took only a few moments to wash and then change into more appropriate clothing. Left-hand on the railing, I made my way downstairs. They creaked underfoot. Songbird was sitting on a table on the ground floor. Maude was glaring at her frostily from across the room. I couldn¡¯t blame the lady.


    The two of them were arguing over something ¨C I couldn¡¯t hear what ¨C and every now and again, Maude would punctuate her statements by shoving a filthy cloth towards Songbird.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I greeted them.


    ¡°G¡¯morning,¡± Songbird bobbed her head enthusiastically my way. ¡°S¡¯pose you want to read all your correspondence?¡±


    How is she so full of energy?


    She pointed towards a stack of letters to her right.


    ¡°I¡¯ll check it in a bit,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Finally, you¡¯re awake,¡± the surly woman said. ¡°Take this mess off my table and put it somewhere else.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± I smiled at Maude.


    ¡°Slept well?¡± Songbird asked.


    ¡°No,¡± I glared at her. ¡°Now I know why they call you Songbird. Couldn¡¯t you make less noise with whoever it was that you took to your bed?¡±


    She had been in the room next door. It had been difficult to sleep.


    ¡°Not in the slightest,¡± she replied unashamedly. ¡°Y¡¯should have joined. It would have been fun. The more people, the more fun we could¡¯ve had.¡±


    I ordered a dish that looked vaguely like croissants for breakfast. Whatever it was, I couldn¡¯t pronounce the local word for it. Yvette padded down the staircase moments later.


    ¡°Good morning Songbird and Taylor what are the plans for today I went to sleep before you two discussed them.¡±


    Briefly, I outlined the situation. I decided Yvette would stay close to me. It was a less efficient use of our time, but I suspected that the people in Aisne wouldn¡¯t be above using her against me.


    ¡°I wanted to talk about something important,¡± I began.


    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± Songbird asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s about expectations. You both must have heard my speech about the rebellion last night. It¡¯s probably obvious I have different thoughts about peasants to you. I¡¯m not expecting you to share them. It would be unreasonable of me to ask the two of you to change your minds. What I am going to ask is for you to at least think about what I said. You should also be careful about what you say as well, Yvie¡­ If you aren¡¯t careful, someone might take offence and decide to do something.¡±


    Songbird said nothing, but gave a mocking salute.


    Even if she did listen to me, I would never know. I knew she could put on a convincing enough act that I¡¯d eventually buy it if she wanted to.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why its so important for you but I¡¯ll at least listen I know you¡¯re a good person.¡±


    ¡°It matters because any of us could have been peasants. You could say we were born lucky. Imagine if you weren¡¯t born lucky. Would you like to have to live like them?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a pointless question since I wasn¡¯t and I never will be but I know that you won¡¯t let the subject go so I¡¯ll at least try to listen to what you say.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t what I wanted to hear, but it was good enough for now.


    Dismissing the subject, I considered the day ahead. We had a lead on the villain to follow up on. With progress in one direction stalled, it was time to see if we could make any headway elsewhere.


    <hr>


    The three of us were camped under an illusion on one of the rooftops near the Royal Armoury. Near being subjective. There was a wide open space between the building and the rest of the city. Enough space so that a crossbowman could not fire into the place without walking out into the open. It was a walled compound with a large, three storey warehouse in the centre. Guards patrolled outside.


    I wasn¡¯t expecting anything to happen soon.


    The others were both armoured. In Yvette¡¯s case, there was a chain shirt beneath a leather jacket, over a cotton shirt. She looked like a nesting doll with all the additional layers.


    Yvette and Songbird had been teaching me a local game of cards.


    I squinted at my hand in the moonlight. The Magician, the High Priestess, the Fool, Knight of Cups, Knight of Wands. A thoroughly awful hand. The cards were difficult to make out. I would have liked to have a light to see by. Unfortunately, those were anything but subtle.


    ¡°Band,¡± Yvette mumbled, her voice barely audible. She proceeded to lay down her hand.


    She had managed to collect five of the Major Arcana from the tarot deck during the course of the game. So long as it was not the first round of the game, that was an automatic win.


    ¡°Y¡¯sure she¡¯s not cheating?¡± Songbird looked at me dubiously.


    ¡°Of course she¡¯s not.¡± I kept my face straight.


    Yvette wasn¡¯t, but I was. She enjoyed winning and I enjoyed seeing her win. It wasn¡¯t like anyone aside from the two of us could see the illusions on the cards.


    So long as I could remember which cards I gave to people, everything should be fine.


    ¡°S¡¯pose it¡¯s normal for a deck to have two Wheels of Fortune?¡± She held up a card to illustrate, a hint of mirth gracing her voice.


    Crap.


    ¡°Definitely normal,¡± I lied.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Taylor should shuffle any more,¡± Songbird said, amused.


    I had convinced them to let me shuffle the deck with my abilities, telling them it was more convenient.


    ¡°But when Taylor shuffles I win more so I think she should be the one who shuffles,¡± Yvette pouted.


    I felt something odd enter my range. Slowly it encroached. We played a few more rounds before it drew close. I turned towards what I sensed. A small group of maybe two dozen figures running towards the Armoury under the cover of an illusion. I held up my hand in warning. Both of them stiffened, going on alert.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spotted our targets,¡± I whispered.


    Taking a moment, I reinforced my perception field. It was important that we weren¡¯t caught. The wizard might detect it regardless but¡­ He was so bad at magic that I had doubts.


    ¡°They¡¯re spelled?¡± Songbird asked.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    The illusion was poor.


    The only question was how I wanted to handle this.


    I studied the illusion our enemies were under. It was a subtle effect. A ward that was anchored to each of them and was designed to divert the attention of anyone looking their way. If you were aware the ward existed, then it had no effect. It amused me. If they hadn¡¯t used a ward, then I wouldn¡¯t have known to look.


    ¡°We''re going in?¡± Songbird seemed almost giddy at the idea. She had already drawn her sword.


    ¡°There¡¯s two dozen of them.¡±


    ¡°Awww, weeping heavens, that¡¯s no fun,¡± she pouted. ¡°S¡¯pose that means you¡¯re doing everything?¡±


    ¡°We weren¡¯t going to attack them anyhow,¡± I said.


    ¡°Wait, we weren¡¯t?¡± she sheathed her sword and placed her hands on her hips in mock outrage.


    ¡°No, we can use this,¡± I denied.


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s probably only a small part of the revolution. Catching them won¡¯t stop the movement. We need to learn more.¡±


    ¡°What will we do then?¡±


    ¡°Give me a moment.¡±


    I focused, then created an effect that focused the attention of the patrols on the incoming thieves.


    Heartbeats later, and I could hear a bell being rung from inside the Armoury. Guards were mobilized and chasing after the figures. They started running. As expected, they were attempting to make their escape.


    ¡°And now, we follow them home,¡± I smiled.


    Moving from rooftop to rooftop, we trailed them. Buildings in this part of the city weren¡¯t stacked right next to each other. I was forced to create bridges of force between them, giving us room to cross.


    There was no guarantee that their wizard hadn¡¯t detected us. I was being careful though and paying extra attention to making my efforts discreet.


    The clanking of metal boots from the guards slowly started to fade behind us as the figures made their escape. They had been right on the villain¡¯s tails at first, but seemed to be unable to keep up in the narrower side alleys. Our foes started to slow down then.


    Their route took us into the poorer district of the city. Our enemies were slippery. Unfortunately for them, they did not think to look up. Following remained trivial as a result.


    Markings appeared on the walls below us more and more frequently. The signs of the Revolutionary were everywhere that I looked.


    All becomes dust.


    A wave of confusion hit me.


    Why was I here?


    I frowned. Something was messing with my senses, but very badly. I could feel the attempt actively trying to turn away my thoughts and convince me to go somewhere else.


    ¡°Yvie, can you do something about this confusion spell?¡±


    I made her some clear glass. She would likely need it for the spell.


    Yvette didn¡¯t respond verbally to me. Her cheeks were drawn in while she concentrated. After a few words and muttered gestures, the surrounding environment changed.


    The streets we were in appeared to be almost completely deserted. Our quarry was running ahead, moving towards a building that looked to be important. It was guarded by multiple people. I couldn¡¯t make out the details from afar, but it was likely they were all part of the Revolutionary¡¯s movement.


    We slowed, then came to a stop. I was fairly sure they couldn¡¯t see us with the perception effect I had up, but I didn¡¯t want to risk it.


    ¡°Now what?¡± Songbird whispered.


    Do we attack now?


    ¡­ No. I had a better idea.


    ¡°Can either of you find a way to track everyone who enters this building?¡± I asked.


    ¡°S¡¯pose I can put some Hands on it.¡±


    Yvette looked at me sleepily. ¡°Why do you want to track them isn¡¯t it easier to just stop them all now rather than waiting.¡±


    ¡°This probably isn¡¯t all of them. It likely isn¡¯t even most of them. The place still looks significant. I expect the revolution is mostly spread out, but they still need to talk to each other. My idea is we track their movements and build up a profile of where everyone is. When we¡¯re confident we have most of them, we rip it out by its roots. I¡¯m not allowing people who are as brutal as they are to escape unpunished.¡±


    A substantial amount of effort had gone into hiding the place. Enough that I almost considered it worth attacking right away. That wasn¡¯t the kind of work anyone did if they weren¡¯t hiding anything of value. These revolutionaries had done enough damage that I didn¡¯t want to allow this chance to go to waste.


    I could have tried using compulsions to do it. I judged it too risky. There was a good chance someone would work out that something was wrong if I did so. There were more people capable of applying, detecting and removing such effects here than on Earth Bet.


    Trailing people and preventing carnage without giving away that we had found a part of their organization was a safer move. Songbird could likely arrange for the right people to find out. We could set up a system to deal with this. I didn¡¯t need to handle this alone. Handling the situation this way gave me a better chance of a successful clean purge. I had no intention of remaining in Aisne in ten years time, still managing the same problem.


    ¡°Setting up a proper ritual for this will take time and components if you want it to be properly sneaky I¡¯m too tired for it now and I need to think over this carefully maybe tomorrow?¡± Yvette eventually replied.


    ¡°That sounds good,¡± I agreed.


    We left soon after, but took note of where we were. It wasn¡¯t a win. Not yet, at least. I certainly hadn¡¯t made any real progress on the front of the nobility. That didn¡¯t mean this wasn¡¯t a start.

 Liminal 3.08

    ¡°Sixty. A hero¡¯s efforts will bear fruit like the yield of a crop. The more you toil, the greater the harvest. A wise hero plant many seeds in the hopes that one day there is much to reap.¡±


    ¨C ¡®Two Hundred heroic Axioms¡¯, author unknown


    <hr>


    I took the time to review all the invitations I had received at our customary table. There were many, but for now only three mattered.


    ¡°Which should I accept first?¡± I asked.


    I was assuming I should accept Quentin¡¯s invitation. It was better to ask and be sure.


    ¡°Y¡¯should accept Quentin¡¯s first. Y¡¯know, you need to learn about the three of them before you commit. He has the most direct power.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what would be inferred about my allegiances were I to choose one of the other two. That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t make a guess. Better to go with the obvious choice first, even if none of them had made a good impression on me.


    ¡°It¡¯s a private dinner. Scheduled for tonight.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose I don¡¯t need to tell you not to kill him?¡± Songbird asked rhetorically from my right.


    ¡°You don¡¯t.¡± I looked up at the overcast sky in thought.


    Ominous grey clouds rolled overhead. I suspected a storm was approaching. The rustle of a strong breeze tore green leaves loose from trees and sent them tumbling through the air.


    I marked the invitation to a private dinner as accepted, then passed it across to Songbird. ¡°Make sure Quentin receives it.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem,¡± Songbird mimed a mock salute.


    ¡°Should I approach other nobles in the meantime? Nobles who haven¡¯t invited me, or where the date of invitation is some time away?¡±


    The answer was almost certainly no, but it was best to be sure.


    ¡°Definitely not,¡± Songbird stated firmly. ¡°If you do, it puts them in the position of power. S¡¯pose a hero wouldn¡¯t care. But that¡¯s not what you¡¯re trying to do here, is it?¡±


    That was what the issue came down to. I could try to solve this like a normal hero. I even suspected I knew which story would win. It wasn¡¯t one I was willing to accept. The safe option would be leaning into the Princess story. There was nothing stopping a hero from ruling over a Principality. There were no historical examples I could think of, but that didn¡¯t mean it wouldn¡¯t work.


    The issue was that I knew exactly how out of my depth I would be.


    I was trying to find a different story. A story based around the idea of reformation. Gradually rebuilding the old order into something better, rather than tearing it down. While I agreed with the revolution that something needed to be done, their approach would not fix anything at all.


    ¡°How¡¯s progress on the revolution?¡±


    The question was stupid. I blamed my general exhaustion for the mistake. We had only just woken up.


    Songbird looked at me mockingly. ¡°Taylor, S¡¯not even been a day. M¡¯not that capable. Give me time to organize. Same goes for Yvette.¡±


    ¡°Can I help in any way?¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯can provide us both with some things. Then trust us to do our part. S¡¯why we¡¯re here, remember?¡±


    She was right. That didn¡¯t make it any less frustrating. I hated feeling like I was useless.


    ¡°Do you have enough people for this?¡±


    Songbird grimaced. ¡°Barely. We¡¯re scraping by.¡±


    I turned to Yvette. She was seated to my left and still looked tired despite having a night¡¯s rest.


    ¡°Do you think you could set up a ritual to amplify my voice if I helped you with it?¡±


    She would still need to cast it. There was nothing stopping me from assisting with everything else.


    She looked at me balefully. It was like seeing a cat puff up its fur.


    ¡°I¡¯m already working on one hard project now you want me to do this I mean we probably can but it¡¯s not going to be easy and why do you even want to talk to everyone at once anyhow?¡±


    ¡°I want to talk with the revolution,¡± I admitted.


    What went unsaid is that talking to them all at once made for a more impactful story. I wasn¡¯t sure if I could de-escalate the situation by talking alone. If I was going to try, I needed to go the distance.


    ¡°Well it¡¯s not a ritual I can set up quickly even with your help so forget having it happen today it¡¯s going to have to wait until after I¡¯m done with the tracking magic.¡±


    ¡°I could prob¡¯ly ensure one of them gets a message,¡± Songbird interjected.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think it will help. They will throw it away.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose they will. Doesn¡¯t mean s¡¯not worth trying.¡±


    I thought about it. It wasn¡¯t as good as me giving a speech, but it wasn¡¯t an attempt at a speech either. That road would still be open to me later on.


    ¡°Please do,¡± I affirmed. ¡°See if you can pass on my concerns to some of their leaders.¡±


    ¡°Doubt they¡¯ll listen.¡±


    ¡°I know. We should still try.¡±


    Songbird shoved a blank piece of parchment and a quill across the table. ¡°Write what you want to say. I¡¯ll make it happen. It''ll take some effort, but with last night¡¯s lead it should be workable.¡±


    I started to write.


    The biggest problem with trying this was that I suspected that I had nothing I could offer them. The more measured parts of the revolution likely wanted to remove the current rulers. I could do that. It was something I was already working on. They probably wanted to do it themselves.


    Removing the current rulers wouldn¡¯t help if they had nobody to put in their place.


    The food shortage was an issue the revolution had created on its own. The nobility had certainly made the issue worse. Removing Quentin would hopefully mean that the next noble didn¡¯t simply try to hike up exports. None of that undercut the elephant in the room. If the granaries hadn¡¯t been burned down, the issue wouldn¡¯t be there to begin with.


    I had no doubt that it was done deliberately.


    ¡°Y¡¯not trying to negotiate with them at all?¡±


    I didn¡¯t think the parts of the revolution that wanted to burn everything to the ground could be reasoned with.


    ¡°Taylor can you look over this I¡¯m not sure if I should be using ink or wax as the catalyst it changes the ratios-¡±


    ¡°Just a moment, Yvie.¡± I interjected. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I confirmed. ¡°They are in the wrong. Both the nobility and the revolution.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose you¡¯re looking for some fabled middle ground?¡± she stated dubiously.


    I gave her a flat look. ¡°No. Both are doing the work of Below. The middle ground between wrong and wrong is just more wrong. It¡¯s like the revolution saw that one problem existed and decided it would be fun to make twenty more.¡±


    The revolution had understandable reasons for their anger. That did not change the fact that in the long term, their actions were quite literally harming more peasants than the nobility were. They had lost all right to pretend they were the lesser evil when they did more damage than their opposition.


    I knew I would be bad at leading a rebellion.


    It was still easy for me to do a better job than burning it all to the ground.


    ¡°S¡¯not what I expected to hear from the girl who talks for the peasants.¡±


    ¡°I doubt most of the peasants want this. Starvation doesn¡¯t discriminate between peasants and nobles,¡± I replied. ¡°I can¡¯t reform an extremist movement if they don¡¯t want to reform. All I can do is ask them to consider the long term consequences and then hope they come to the table.¡±


    There was no way this letter was not going to be consigned to a fire. But better to try and fail, then not try at all. I took a few minutes to finish scribing my missive. I passed the final message to Songbird.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have my people make the wording more appropriate.¡±


    Now I needed to work out what to do. Everyone else had tasks planned for the day. I was the odd one out. I took a moment to help Yvette with her problem before asking the question.


    ¡°What should I do today?¡± I tapped on the letters beside me meaningfully. ¡°I can only attend one tonight. That leaves me with nothing else planned.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯should prob¡¯ly relax. Y¡¯need a break.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to sleep with you.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t suggesting it.¡± Songbird reached across the table and prodded at an unread missive.


    I reached towards it curiously. It was from the House of Light. Biting my lip, I took a moment to read over the contents. It was something I¡¯d easily be able to fulfil, and would have no issue with doing. I''d definitely help out.


    What surprised me was that Songbird had suggested it. She didn¡¯t seem like the type of person who would propose I set my foot near the clergy.


    ¡°You think I should do this?¡± I asked hesitantly.


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d enjoy it,¡± she declared. ¡°For anyone else, that¡¯d be a chore. The happiest I¡¯ve seen you is after you help people. You have this big smile. That letter counts. It¡¯s easy to do.¡±


    I looked down at the letter again. It was a request for me to help out at one of the local chapters of the House of Light. There were many more injured than normal. That was entirely unexpected considering the circumstances.


    ¡°You think I¡¯d enjoy this?¡± I repeated dubiously.


    ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I enjoy helping people. But I don¡¯t like seeing people injured. Worse, I certainly don¡¯t like knowing that they will likely be back only a day later.¡±


    That didn¡¯t mean I wouldn¡¯t do it. It was still the right thing to do.


    ¡°Trust me, Taylor,¡± she said, her voice serious for once. ¡°I know that you will enjoy this.¡±


    ¡°Should I ask them to help out?¡±


    ¡°Depends on what you want help with?¡±


    ¡°Peacefully resolving the conflict.¡±


    Songbird snorted.


    ¡°S¡¯pose it¡¯s an idea. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a good one. Trouble is, their presence in Aisne isn¡¯t strong enough to mediate.¡±


    ¡°I could make them strong enough.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s even worse. Every ruler would disapprove. S¡¯pose if you wanted to instate a theocracy then it could work. Leave off thinking about big picture stuff for a day. Treat this as a break.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not taking a break.¡±


    ¡°Taylor, treat this as an order,¡± Songbird stated. ¡°Take a break.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I replied dubiously. I¡¯d promised myself I¡¯d listen to advice. Songbird seemed serious about this. ¡°Yvie¡¯s going with you then.¡±


    ¡°Was planning that way anyhow.¡±


    Conversation stalled for a moment. I was about to stand up and leave when one of Songbird¡¯s assistants strolled in. The boy couldn¡¯t even be thirteen summers. It was depressing how quickly everyone in Calernia was forced to grow up. He handed her another pile of letters then ran off.


    She took a moment to read through it before turning my way.


    ¡°Huh. They¡¯re real nasty,¡± she said.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked, puzzled.


    ¡°You asked me to look into those two killings. The ones in the brothel. They¡¯re a bit different from the others.¡±


    I had forgotten I¡¯d even asked. There was far too much going on within the city for me to reasonably keep track of it all. It was gradually wearing me down.


    ¡°What did you learn?¡±


    ¡°It took some snooping in the Prince¡¯s Palace, but one of my helpers found this,¡± she shoved one of the letters at me.


    I started to read. Some killings were different from the others. Not different in their brutality. The deaths were just as awful. The discrepancy was far darker. For some killings, the revolution left notes detailing crimes they accused the dead of. The nobility had been doing their best to cover up the presence of the notes, which was why this was the first we were hearing of it.


    These two nobles were a part of the note crowd. So far, that crowd totalled twenty-three individuals. Six were nobles. Seventeen of them were ordinary criminals. I wasn¡¯t sure why the nobility were hiding these notes. Songbird hadn¡¯t been able to find out what was on the other twenty-one notes, but just these two were bad enough.


    ¡°Are these accusations true?¡± I asked, my voice hard.


    ¡°Dunno,¡± she replied glibly. ¡°Prob¡¯ly.¡±


    ¡°Rape is already terrible, but children?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, nasty.¡±


    It was bad enough to make me seriously consider just blasting the palace myself.


    ¡°Are all the nobles like this?¡±


    ¡°No. Doubt the other ones were that bad either.¡± Songbird paused. ¡°I don¡¯t think these kills were done by the revolution.¡±


    ¡°You think someone else is doing this?¡±


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly. The handwriting is too good. Think they¡¯re just taking advantage of the chaos.¡±


    Because this wasn¡¯t complicated enough already without another player involved.


    ¡°Chances there¡¯s another hero in the city?¡±


    I wouldn¡¯t call killing someone with brutal dismemberment and torture heroic. Even if the person subjected to it was awful. My opinion on the subject wasn¡¯t held by everyone. Some heroes likely went that far. I would have just killed the monsters quickly and left it at that.


    ¡°Could be. There hasn¡¯t been any talk of it.¡±


    ¡°Well, add it to the list.¡±


    As if we needed something else to keep track of.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    <hr>


    I was standing beside someone in an infirmary built beside the House of Light many hours later. Official sermons had been held before I had arrived. The chair next to me was rickety and the room itself was run down. I expected the condition of the place came as a direct result of the civil war. I would offer to repair it all when I was done taking care of people.


    This was the last injured person present.


    ¡°Can I heal you?¡±


    The patient gave their assent.


    It was a work of a few moments to heal them. I could have healed everyone at once with the help of my Grace, but saw no reason to. None of them had been at risk of dying if they didn¡¯t wait a little. All it would do is leave me with nothing to do with my time. It felt odd being the one waiting for the actions of others.


    I hated to admit it, but Songbird was right. I knew at the back of my mind that I wasn¡¯t resolving the conflict by doing this, but seeing injured people made whole again still made me feel better. Not everyone was appreciative after being healed. That was to be expected. I had spent enough time around injured people to know that not all of them had a good bedside manner.


    Maybe one day I would grow to resent that. That day wasn¡¯t today. It was exactly like scratching an insect bite.


    It didn¡¯t address the cause of the problem, but it still felt good to do.


    There was no way this was the last injured person in the city. It would only be the last one close enough to find out that I was here.


    I turned around. Standing by the entrance was the priestess in charge. She and the others had worked to heal people as well before eventually exhausting themselves.


    ¡°Do you want me to repair this place?¡± I asked.


    Her brown eyebrows raised. ¡°If it is no trouble for you, chosen.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t,¡± I confirmed.


    ¡°Then this humble refuge accepts what assistance you may offer. You honour the Gods Above through your service.¡±


    Taking that as permission, I stood up and began to reshape the structure as I went. Cracks were filled in, dirt erased and a clean coat of white paint set itself on the walls. I worked methodically. Even with the assistance of angels, the process was not quick. I was putting in the effort to catch all the little details. Right now, there was no reason to hurry. I wanted to do this right.


    I padded my way outside the infirmary and towards the chapel itself. Climbing the stairs, I repaired the baked tiles as I carried out my task. The roof came next. Then the stained-glass windows. The pews could be more comfortable. Why not have cushioned seating? I didn¡¯t see any quotes in the Book of All things declaring a sore ass to be sacred. Slowly, I restored the building.


    I was completely absorbed in my work. Vaguely, I could hear the rustle of movement behind me. I didn¡¯t even realize what else was occurring within the chapel by the time I reached the other end of the House of Light.


    My efforts ended beside the lectern. Casting one last critical gaze over the stained-glass window in front of me, I turned around. The entire building was crammed full. People were packed uncomfortably onto chairs. I hadn¡¯t even been aware of them entering. It felt as if the gaze of everyone present was locked onto me.


    The moment of stillness as I watched them watch me was more awkward than I cared to admit. It should have occurred to me that I was putting on a spectacle for them.


    ¡°Would you care to give voice to compassion¡¯s words within this place of worship?¡± the priestess raised her blue eyes to meet mine, breaking the silence as she did so.


    I should have expected the request. In hindsight, it was an obvious one. That didn¡¯t make the situation any less delicate. I didn¡¯t want to refuse. It would be letting them down. The people that were watching me were likely to be genuinely faithful. I could see from the looks in their eyes that having me here meant something important to them. More than it meant to me.


    Accepting this request would place a burden on me.


    It was almost certain I would disappoint them. I wasn¡¯t a great speaker, and I was not a member of their faith. If I spoke, it would be about my own beliefs and not theirs. I definitely wouldn¡¯t give a sermon or talk about the state of the world outside.


    What should I do?


    ¡­ I¡¯d try. Even if it ended up being a disappointment for them. I felt they were the kinds of people who would understand and would appreciate that I was making the effort. The presence of the angels intensified. It was encouraging.


    ¡°I can do that.¡±


    I licked my lips, then walked slowly to the lectern.


    ¡°There is plenty I could share my thoughts about. Fortunately, I¡¯ve failed enough to know better. So I¡¯ll talk about the one virtue I feel I have some insight into. Compassion. Both the human and angelic perspective.¡± I paused, taking a breath.


    ¡°I¡¯ll start with the angels. This is what they look like to me.¡±


    I created an illusion within the House of light showing my impression of them. A void with dancing lights within. It was entirely visual. While I strongly suspected that everyone present desired more than that, I felt it would detract from my speech.


    ¡°They don¡¯t look like those chubby sprites you have in the windows, although the imagery doesn¡¯t offend them.¡± I said, smiling. ¡°But what they look like is less important than what they feel like. They feel like a perspective. A way of seeing the world. They perceive the world differently to all of us. In a way that is so sincere that your heart aches just to feel it. There is nobody they would turn away from. In their eyes, all living creatures great and small deserve to be cared for. So you can rest assured that no matter what happens, there is always one family that loves you. It''s heartbreakingly pure. I wish the world was that way. But it¡¯s not.¡±


    I let the illusion fade away.


    ¡°Which brings me to my own perspective. Compassion to me is about two principles. The first is minimizing suffering. The obvious approach is by listening to people. Find out what troubles them, then do your best to help them. Rarely, that will be done by leaving them alone. Sometimes you are the problem. Then there is what I am trying to do. I¡¯m trying to reform systems. If we can prevent suffering in the first place, then we don¡¯t need to alleviate it.¡±


    I took a moment to phrase my next words in my head. It would have been nice if this wasn¡¯t sprung on me at the moment. That way, I could have at least tried to write a proper speech. I was starting to suspect I should write speeches out in advance to memorize.


    I hadn¡¯t expected I would be giving so many of them.


    ¡°The second principle is perspective. It¡¯s about trying to empathize with people and understand their views. That doesn¡¯t mean you have to agree with them. You can understand why somebody becomes a villain, and think that they¡¯re awful at the same time. You should also care for them as well. Feel sadness, or pity.¡± I paused, then hardened my voice. ¡°Feeling compassion for someone who does wrong doesn¡¯t mean that they should escape justice. It just means that justice should be tempered by perspective.¡±


    It would have been easier to talk by using innovate. I chose not to. It felt as if it would be inauthentic. This crowd genuinely valued my thoughts. I wouldn¡¯t hide behind a mask of competence that I didn¡¯t actually have.


    I¡¯d use it to practise when I next had downtime. It was a skill that it seemed I would need in the future.


    ¡°My principles don¡¯t exclude violence. They also don¡¯t justify being the lesser evil. If I¡¯m going to kill someone, it is when I feel there are no other choices left. When killing someone is the right decision. Not everyone can be redeemed. That doesn¡¯t mean we shouldn¡¯t make the attempt when we believe they can be.¡±


    Is there anything else I want to say?


    ¡°Even the act of killing a person can be compassionate. Death itself isn¡¯t good or evil. Everyone dies eventually. If a person genuinely wants to die and cannot be convinced otherwise, then letting them live is prolonging their suffering. Imagine if someone is cursed to live eternally in torment by a villain. If you had the opportunity to alleviate their suffering, wouldn¡¯t it be a compassionate thing to do?¡±


    Panning my gaze across the crowd, I thought on how I would like to finish off.


    ¡°I¡¯ll close this speech by talking about something I feel is important to me personally. None of us are perfect, and that¡¯s fine. It¡¯s expected. What matters is that we all try to do better. We accept help from other people, and try to help them in return when we can.¡±


    Finally, I stepped back.


    There was no clapping or cheers in the crowd. But there was a solemn sincerity to it that I felt meant more.


    The priestess who appeared to be in charge approached me.


    ¡°Would you be willing to join us in distributing alms to the poor?¡± she asked, looking up at me as she did so.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    It would have been easier if I could transmute objects into food. Unfortunately, that wasn¡¯t something the angels helped me with. It was just as difficult for me to do as it was before earning my name. But I could learn to do it on my own. Another task to commit to in my imaginary free time.


    There was still plenty I could do to help out. So I did what I was able to. Time passed. Eventually, some of us headed back to the church.


    Small crowds of people talked amongst each other. A few even approached me to banter. Topics ranged from the extraordinary to the mundane. There were some unreasonable requests, but I was expecting those. It was no worse than being a known hero on Earth Bet around civilians. In a lot of ways, it was better. People here didn¡¯t view me distrustfully. I really was a hero to them.


    After speaking with the nobility yesterday and the news on the killings, being around ordinary people was like taking an ice-cold shower. It was refreshing. Listening to more grounded discussions made me feel more human.


    ¡°Your attendance was a balm that helped soothe old wounds.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I did much,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°On that, we disagree. Times are dark. This light you have lit for the faithful here is no candle but instead a roaring hearth. Would it trouble you to attend a ceremony like this again?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a question that I had expected I would be asked. The idea appealed to me. Before today, it wouldn¡¯t have. I had an entirely different mental image of what the House of Light would be like. People were more welcoming than I thought they would be. There were no covert attempts to convert me. In retrospect, expecting that they would try was silly.


    It was also nice being among the priests. It felt like they were genuinely trying to do good. Even if we might not entirely agree on what good was.


    ¡°So long as you don¡¯t expect me to speak again. I¡¯ll make some time,¡± I promised.


    And I certainly would. I didn¡¯t need to share their beliefs to see the good they were doing. Not every problem needed a systematic solution. Some people¡¯s issues were small. That didn¡¯t make them any less deserving of help. This had been an important reminder to me. Deciding to fix the big issues didn¡¯t mean that I should ignore the small ones.


    <hr>


    The sun had set an hour ago. I was still in high spirits from my time among the clergy. It was the closest I had come to spending time with people who shared a similar perspective to me. Most of them weren¡¯t focused on lands or border disputes. They were only focused on trying to do good. Even without sharing their faith, I felt like I could fit in.


    My good mood almost certainly would not last. Songbird was fussing over me at the edge of the balcony.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be late,¡± I told her.


    ¡°You¡¯re prob¡¯ly going to make a shit impression.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯sure you want to fly over to this dinner? Lotsa people in Procer don¡¯t like wizards.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m certain,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Making me come to him is all about power. If the city was in good shape I¡¯d play along but¡­ I think Quentin needs a reminder.¡±


    ¡°About you?¡± Songbird sounded amused.


    ¡°Yeah. The only power he has is the power people give him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the boss,¡± Songbird said dubiously.


    ¡°You sent the letter?¡±


    ¡°Made sure someone in the revolution got it,¡± Songbird confirmed.


    ¡°Good. And tracking?¡±


    ¡°Yvette¡¯s set up the spell.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±


    ¡°Good luck.¡±


    I manifested a sphere around me, then took a seat inside. When I arrived, I would make it glow. I planned to flaunt what I could do. Tonight I was making a pointed statement. I was approaching problems politically by choice. If I wanted to, then I could do otherwise. The nobles needed to pretend to care if they wanted me to be nice.


    My sphere hurtled towards the venue. It weaved between rooftops at speed. The location rapidly drew closer. I had been invited to a large estate at the edge of the city. My first sight of it was a brick wall. I flew over it, then followed a wide paved road leading up to a two-storey building. The mansion occupied far more lateral than vertical space. It sprawled out openly. Apple trees lined either side of the path. The grass was perfectly manicured.


    I frowned. There was a hive of activity below. Guards were running all over the place. They were bustling, both inside and outside the walls. It wasn¡¯t in response to me, either. I lowered myself to the ground.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked.


    They already had their weapons in hand. The look they gave me was appraising. It was as if they were assessing me as a threat.


    ¡°Prince Quentin was expected to set foot upon these grounds before the fall of the sun. He has yet to make an appearance.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll help look. Anywhere you want me to check?¡±


    They stared at me for a moment, before one of them spoke.


    ¡°You would best be served searching the roads between the palace and this estate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can find.¡±


    I lifted off once more and scouted the city from above. The road to the palace was much larger and more open. It was far easier to observe from above.


    My first hint was the corpse of a guard pinned to a wall along a major thoroughfare. His horse was dead beside him. The further I went, the more corpses appeared. At a glance, it looked like three dozen guards had been killed. I examined the scene further.


    How did they find out that Quentin would be heading this way?


    They looked to have been taken entirely by surprise.


    It was probably done using illusions.


    That was a major escalation. They had stuck so far to the back alleys. The fact that neither Songbird nor Yvette had informed me of this only confirmed my fears. Attacking that one location would not have ended the revolution. We would have known about this in advance otherwise.


    I started to look around more closely.


    Despite the fact that there were no corpses aside from the guards, I could tell that others had been either injured or killed. There were enough evidence to support it. I suspected the revolutionaries had done their best to hide the evidence in an effort to make the scene more intimidating.


    If it looked like they weren¡¯t losing people, then more people would be likely to join.


    It didn¡¯t take long for me to find the carriage¡¯s remains. From what I could tell, they had tried to make a desperate escape. It was just off the main road in one of the side alleys. The broken wreckage was lying on its side. Parts of it were scorched. The horses that were pulling it had been slain.


    A woman in her late thirties wearing the Hand¡¯s livery had remnants of her body staged all over the remains of the carriage. One hand was pinned to a wheel spoke. A foot was jammed through a lance. I didn¡¯t recognize her, but it was probably one of Songbird¡¯s assistants. She had many of them. I didn¡¯t even know her name.


    Quentin was nowhere to be found.


    I took a moment to return to the guards at the venue and inform them of what I had discovered. Then I started to search. I spent another half hour looking for clues. I found nothing. Eventually, I gave up and flew back to the Fated Connections. It made me feel angry. Helpless in a way that I wasn¡¯t used to feeling any more.


    I saw Songbird seated at a table on the ground floor as I entered. She had a box beside her and was frowning in concentration at the floor. The moment she saw me, her mask went up once more.


    ¡°S¡¯pose that your meeting fell through?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. One of your people died. How do you know?¡±


    She tapped the lid of the box.


    ¡°Revolution sent us a gift. A head in a box. They didn¡¯t send the rest of him. They prob¡¯ly plan to use that for a proper spectacle.¡±


    ¡°Why send us the head?¡± I asked, frustrated.


    ¡°Dunno,¡± she replied glibly. ¡°Prob¡¯ly in response to your letter.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t notice any activity after they received it?¡±


    ¡°Nah.¡±


    ¡°Praes is involved,¡± I stated, ¡°I¡¯m certain of it.¡±


    For them to have pulled this off so quickly after receiving the letter without us being aware, one of a few things needed to be true. The hands could be compromised. That was a possibility. It was also one I doubted.


    The second possibility I could think of is they had scrying. A method to communicate between cells that did not require direct travel. We knew they had one wizard. Who said that they didn¡¯t have another? It would even make sense. Why wouldn¡¯t Praes support a movement like this?


    They could inform another cell about our letter, then that group could perform the assault and deliver the head.


    ¡°S¡¯not like they could do this any other way,¡± Songbird agreed.


    ¡°Did you follow the person who sent this?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Didn¡¯t really help. Seems they were just an ordinary messenger. They were paid to deliver the box. Went completely green when they saw the head.¡±


    ¡°Can you contact the guard?¡±


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly. They¡¯ll be busy at the moment. It¡¯s likely they won¡¯t listen. Want me to try?¡±


    ¡°I want to attack the base we found tomorrow. I could do it alone, but I think involving them is better.¡±


    ¡°Yvie is gonna be irritated you made her set up that spell y¡¯know. One day later and it¡¯s already useless.¡±


    ¡°I know. That¡¯s just how it is sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯sure you want to do that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I think waiting was a mistake.¡±


    ¡°I dunno.¡± Songbird sounded sceptical of my idea.


    I bit the bottom of my lip. ¡°Has there been other escalation?¡±


    ¡°Yep. S¡¯not just revolutionaries now. There¡¯s general looting as well.¡±


    ¡°Then we definitely pull them out. We can¡¯t afford to wait.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure. Y¡¯think that everyone¡¯ll listen if they see how serious you are?¡±


    ¡°Hopefully. I can ensure people are taken prisoner and the prisoners are treated fairly. What the revolutionaries are doing is monstrous. The problem is that if we kill them, the situation compounds. More families will join out of anger. This isn¡¯t ideal, but it¡¯s what I can do.¡±


    ¡°What about Praes?¡±


    ¡°Remember what you said about giving people a bigger enemy?¡±


    Her eyebrows rose. ¡°You¡¯re going to put on a show?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s just¡­ There is actually a bigger enemy here. If we can find evidence of their involvement and prove it, then we have a way forward. We show people. Let them know they¡¯re doing the enemy¡¯s work.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to let them live too?¡±


    ¡°No. They aren¡¯t local and won¡¯t have any ties. There is nothing shielding them from consequences.¡±


    Taking a seat, I continued to ponder the situation. Was there even a Revolutionary at all, or was this all the work of Praes? They certainly had the motive to fake it.


    ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± Songbird said abruptly. It cut off my train of thought.


    ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°We tried to learn more about the Hall of Records. Nobody would gab. Even had some Hands try breaking in. Large parts of the place are blocked off. The revolution is still attacking it despite that. Prob¡¯ly something really important in there.¡±


    ¡°Right. Tomorrow you and Yvie look into that while I¡¯m dealing with the revolutionary cell. I don¡¯t care if you need to break and enter. It¡¯s obviously important.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose we can kick up some mischief.¡± Songbird grinned. She seemed eager at the thought.


    ¡°I¡¯m trusting you not to get caught.¡±


    ¡°Not a problem. Good idea anyhow. Need to break in there for your request about the crusades. All the other leads are shit.¡±


    Right, that.


    I rested my head against the table, put my hands on the back of my head and groaned. Tears of frustration were accumulating at the edge of my eyes.


    ¡°How does anyone keep track of all of this?¡± I mumbled onto the hard wood. ¡°I also need to consider what Vermin and Garwick will do now that Quentin is dead.¡±


    ¡°Verrill and Garson,¡± Songbird replied, amused.


    I said nothing in response.


    The revolution, the brutal killings, the nobility, the peasantry, the hall of records, Praes, the questionable existence of the Revolutionary, the crusade. There were probably other concerns that were just slipping through my fingers. It was all so much to juggle, and I was sure that I kept missing balls.


    ¡°Hey, Taylor, it¡¯s gonna be fine,¡± Songbird said. She came in close and hugged me tightly, then stepped back and let go.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel that way.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll get through this. You¡¯ll see.¡±


    I hoped she was right. We were drowning in difficulties, and right now I couldn¡¯t see the surface of the water.

 Liminal 3.09

    ¡°Prior to engaging the enemy, ensure that the condition for their victory has been removed from the board. It does not matter how they shuffle the remaining pieces, if the ending is already assured.¡±


    ¨C Dread Emperor Terribilis I, the Thorough


    <hr>


    Dawn had not yet risen. The air was crisp and dew rested upon my brow. Yvette and I sat opposite to each other at a table on the balcony. The two of us were playing a game of cards. Rounds usually ended quicker with only two players. It was easier to determine just how good a hand was. Looking at my cards levitating in the air before me, I floated the Hanged Man head first onto the discard pile. The card almost seemed to wink under the soft blue light of the orb I had suspended over the table.


    I was aiming to win this game with the minor arcana.


    I refrained from cheating when it was just the two of us. Yvette became bored if she won every game and could see what I was doing anyhow.


    Songbird sauntered in and sat down to my left. It was hard to make out, but it looked like she was grinning at us impishly. Considering that as far as I knew she hadn¡¯t gone to sleep, I didn¡¯t understand how she had so much energy.


    ¡°Urgh, you stink.¡± I commented.


    She did. Wherever she had been, it smelled like a bucket of fish entrails left in the sun to rot for a week.


    ¡°Pffft,¡± she affected a snooty look.


    Yvette picked up my Hanged Man, then dropped the Nine of Pentacles. It seemed she was playing the major arcana this round.


    ¡°It is an unfortunate state of affairs that peasants need toil under the harsh light of the sun, rather than find refulgence under the auspices of invigorating sorceries, but needs must,¡± she spoke theatrically.


    Refulgence?


    I spent a moment parsing what she said.


    ¡°I think you meant refuge there, not refulgence,¡± I hazarded a guess,  then turned my attention back to the game.


    I drew a card from the deck and looked at it. King of Wands. Useless for the hand I was building. I was building the Suit of Cups, not the Suit of Wands. I discarded it, then turned my attention back to Songbird.


    ¡°Aww fuck, did I mess that up?¡± her expression cracked.


    ¡°The sun hasn¡¯t risen. It¡¯s not even hot,¡± I replied drily. ¡°So, what are you here to tell us?¡±


    I focused for a moment and created a stiff breeze, blowing away the stench.


    ¡°Sooooo,¡± she dragged the word out, grinning all the while.


    ¡°Yes¡­¡±


    Yvette dropped the Queen of Cups. I floated it into my hand immediately and discarded the King of Pentacles. She wasn¡¯t using those, so I didn¡¯t need to keep it. It was a good idea to hold onto high value cards from non-opposed suits. I didn¡¯t need to. My hand was good enough that I was certain of a win.


    ¡°Count Cups,¡± I called, then placed them down on the table.


    King, Queen, Knight, and Ace of Cups. I also held Judgement, but that wasn¡¯t relevant for my win.


    Yvette placed her cards down on the table and pouted at me. It only took a glance to see that I had won. My hand totalled forty. At best, hers was less than twenty.


    I floated all the cards together into one big pile, then shuffled them theatrically in the air.


    ¡°Now you¡¯re just showing off again Taylor just because I said I wanted to figure out how to do that doesn¡¯t mean you need to tease me with it it¡¯s not fair,¡± Yvette attempted to glare my way.


    I could barely hold back the smile. She looked like a cat that was puffing out its fur to look bigger.


    ¡°You will figure it out eventually, Yvie,¡± I consoled her.


    ¡°I snooped around a bit. They staked Quentin in the plaza right outside the palace-¡±


    I turned my attention back to Songbird.


    ¡°Wait. If you were at the plaza, why do you smell like that?¡± I asked, genuinely curious.


    Songbird averted her eyes and muttered under her breath.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t hear you.¡±


    ¡°I said I tried to sneak into the Hall of Records.¡±


    That¡­ still didn¡¯t explain the smell. I couldn¡¯t imagine anything around a glorified library smelling like that.


    ¡°Why did you go ahead without support?¡±


    While she still hadn¡¯t answered the original question, this was far more important. We had a plan, and she didn¡¯t stick to it.


    Songbird shrugged.


    ¡°It¡¯s a big place. Holds all of Aisne¡¯s documents going back five hundred years. It has a kitchen all of its own and a water supply. Also rooms for people to stay. Some scribes live there permanently,¡± she explained.


    That was not what I had in mind when I thought of a place named the ¡°Hall of Records¡± but sure. It sounded more like a live-in compound.


    There was too much for me to keep track of for me to pay attention to the specifics of one building. I would need a massive team to delegate to if I ever found myself in a position like this again.


    ¡°Right, you were saying?¡± I encouraged her to continue.


    I floated the deck back together into a single pile on the table.


    ¡°So I sneaked past the tin men who stand around and look all menacing-¡±


    ¡°How did you get in?¡± I interjected


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly not going to believe me, but there was a big punch up. Peasants and Guards all fighting outside. Took a chance. Climbed over the wall. Scaled the side of one of the buildings and peeked into a window.¡±


    ¡°So you didn¡¯t actually get in.¡±


    Songbird pouted.


    ¡°S¡¯not like it matters. Anyhow, I had to dash before I got caught. Didn¡¯t find out what¡¯s in there.¡±


    All this posturing to tell me she learned nothing.


    ¡°Why do you smell like that?¡± I demanded.


    There was only so much tomfoolery I was willing to put up with.


    ¡°Someone dumped a chamber pot through a window above me when I was making my escape,¡± her cheeks coloured.


    Yvette burst into a fit of giggles.


    Right, that settles it.


    I focused and willed Songbird clean. She yelped and then glared at me.


    ¡°Always off-putting when that happens.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting you carry that smell around.¡±


    Songbird¡¯s story left me with a few more questions.


    ¡°We still don¡¯t know what¡¯s in there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We don¡¯t,¡± She admitted. Her cheeks had been drawn inwards. It looked like she had swallowed a lemon.


    ¡°You ignored our plan to look alone?¡±


    ¡°I did.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Songbird shrugged at me carelessly.


    ¡°Reasons. It¡¯s important to talk to your team. Even if we ignore that, I¡¯m a hero. Going off on your own is an easy way to be taken captive.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose you have a point. Don¡¯t really care for it. I¡¯m my own person.¡±


    Sometimes Songbird frustrated me. It was like talking to Aisha again. I wouldn¡¯t be able to convince her not to go off her own. It just wasn¡¯t in her nature to be tied down like that. But perhaps I could try something different?


    ¡°I understand you value your independence. Sometimes you need to go off on your own. That¡¯s not the problem.¡± It absolutely was in cases like this. Unfortunately, it would take a lot of cat herding to fix it. ¡°You¡¯re travelling with me, and I care about you. Tell me if you¡¯re going somewhere. That way I know where to look.¡±


    I wouldn¡¯t call her a good friend. Not yet. But she was growing on me like a mould or a fungus.


    ¡°Yes, mother,¡± she said mockingly.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± my voice hardened. ¡°I care about my friends. Think about what it would do to me if you died and the only reason I couldn¡¯t save you was because you didn¡¯t tell me where you were.¡± This wasn¡¯t a subject I was prepared to let go.


    The mocking look on Songbird¡¯s face disappeared.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ try,¡± she answered hesitantly. ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning to. If I hadn¡¯t seen the opportunity, I wouldn¡¯t have gone for it.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if I was talking to the real Songbird or only another mask. I accepted it as it stood. For now, it was likely the best I would get.


    ¡°The plan is unchanged,¡± I declared. ¡°You and Yvie break into the Hall of Records.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯sure you don¡¯t want us with you? Digging through stuffy records sounds dull.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying, kid. You¡¯re boring for someone so young.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m twenty-three.¡± I muttered exasperated.


    ¡°Shit, really?¡± Surprise flickered across Songbird¡¯s face. ¡°Doesn¡¯t make you old. I¡¯m only one year older than you, and I¡¯m still spry. You look real good for twenty-three.¡±


    ¡°I have a lot of scars.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re attractive.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    I didn¡¯t mind my scars, but in my mind they were more of a caution sign. Stay away, this person is more trouble than they¡¯re worth.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, whoever takes over is prob¡¯ly going to pull the guard back from the Hall of Records.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have much time then,¡± I told her meaningfully. ¡°I can deal with the revolutionary base. You can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose that means you¡¯re meeting with the guard soon?¡± Songbird asked.


    ¡°Yeah. Tell me where I need to go.¡± I paused. ¡°Keep it subtle when you break in there. I don¡¯t want to make too big of a fuss.¡±


    ¡°I know how to keep my head down,¡± she muttered. She had been arranging things all night for me. I felt a mild wince of guilt.


    ¡°Right, y¡¯see you need¡­¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°You have yet to explain this to my satisfaction,¡± the pale faced man said in a deep voice.


    Despite allegedly being someone skilled with a weapon, the knight didn¡¯t look like he had spent more than a single day outdoors. There were corpses with more colour than him.


    ¡°Look. I¡¯m tired of repeating myself. There¡¯s a group of seditionists in the slums. I am going to lead you to them. I¡¯ll incapacitate them. All you need to do is take them prisoner. Yes, I agree they should die. No, we aren¡¯t doing it anyway. The only reason we aren¡¯t is that they are almost certainly related to someone else. If you want to actually end this revolution sometime soon, you need to-¡±


    ¡°Show that their claims hold no truth and shed light on the vile deeds they perform in the dark for all to see,¡± he interjected, raising his hand as he did so.


    I wouldn¡¯t put it that way. But sure. Whatever works.


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°This conversation would have proceeded with the grace of a fine stallion had you communicated your thoughts with sufficient detail.¡±


    That statement alone almost made me scream with frustration.


    The knight was in charge of this portion of the guard. I was reasonably certain the entire chain of command had been made a mess of by this point. People were assigned positions of power within the guard based on which portions of the guard were loyal to which noble.


    ¡°Are you willing to support me?¡± I ground out.


    ¡°My men and I will shadow you into the depths of this villain¡¯s lair,¡± the man promised.


    ¡°And stick to my rules?¡±


    ¡°What you have requested of us is eminently reasonable. I see no trouble with making those allowances, chosen.¡±


    Great.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Give each of your men one of these then,¡± I reached into the bag at my side and pulled out a stack of ornately made charms at the end of a necklace. ¡°They break through the confusion charms around the building.¡± I pointed to my own neck and indicated my own.


    The man took the necklaces and did as I said. I exited the building onto one of the main roads near the city gate. It took a few more moments before everyone had assembled. Finally, we set off. Three dozen men followed behind me warily. I shrouded us from other people¡¯s perception. There was no reason to give our approach away.


    The sun rose as I led the way into the city slums. I felt something pass over me. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. Like the niggling suspicion that I had forgotten something. I frowned and stopped, trying to feel out what it was.


    ¡°What is it that troubles you?¡± the man¡¯s grey eyes narrowed as he spoke.


    ¡°Not sure,¡± I admitted. ¡°Feel something. Don¡¯t know what.¡±


    He immediately called a halt. Good man. It had taken a while to convince him to listen. But the knight was being entirely reasonable while out on the field.


    I tried pushing against the world. It took no effort. It didn¡¯t seem like I was trapped. I performed a few other quick experiments. I couldn¡¯t figure out what the problem was. There was a weird nudging sensation at the back of my mind. It was muted but persistent.


    Where are the angels?


    I felt lonely for some reason. Empty. As if I had not eaten for over a week. There was a vital piece of me that was missing, and I couldn¡¯t tell what it was.


    ¡°Do you believe it would be wiser for us to withdraw?¡± the knight asked.


    ¡°Possibly. I can probably counter it. That doesn¡¯t guarantee your safety. It¡¯s safer if we pull back and wait for Yvette.¡±


    It was doubtful there was a talented enough wizard opposing us. That didn¡¯t mean we shouldn¡¯t play it safe.


    He examined my face closely. ¡°Then we shall withdraw and return soon with sorcerous reinforcements. It would not do for us to shirk from our duty.¡±


    I was really appreciating having someone along who didn¡¯t doubt my suggestions for once.


    Two dozen guardsmen followed behind me as we proceeded deeper into the slums.


    Why are we continuing?


    The passages were narrow, and we were forced to walk two by two. People looked out of the shadows, their gazes passing over us as if we weren¡¯t there. It was awkward. They continued to move around furtively in confined spaces without realizing they kept having to avoid us. We closed in on our destination. The streets were deserted.


    Soon, we neared our destination. I reached out and disintegrated one of the nearby buildings, slamming the area with compassion. There was no need to be selective. Anyone around here would be hostile to us


    Something is very wrong.


    Not wanting to incapacitate the guardsmen, I excluded them from the effect. ¡°Move in,¡± I ordered.


    The knight raised his red gauntleted hand and repeated my order. A dozen armoured guardsmen drew their short swords and started to move ahead.


    I surrounded myself in a transparent spherical shield and flew towards the building. It was a large warehouse. The place stuck out like a sore thumb. All the other structures were small and ran down. This one sprawled out. I could hear the clanking of metal boots against cracked stone outside as I made my way inside.


    The knight and I entered the warehouse alone.


    Where is everyone?


    The knight vanished.


    I turned around. The doorway leading into the warehouse was gone. I reached out and tried to change the world. The change took, but it felt fake to me. I turned around once more. I was in a narrow hallway inside a building. Everything was grey. The walls, the ceiling, the floor. There was no colour to be seen.


    I slammed my mind outwards and struck against a gossamer illusion blanketing my senses. It shredded in moments. A sense of muted panic came from somewhere nearby. With the breaking of the compulsion, my situation began to make sense.


    I felt a sense of dread well up within me. It was like there was an implacable force between me and my ability to influence Creation. A wall reaching up so high that it was impossible for me to climb, so wide that I couldn¡¯t find my way around. Reaching to my side, I drew my dagger. Staggering out of the room, I looked around.


    Room, what room?


    I needed to escape from whatever this was.


    The nudging in my mind became more insistent.


    Dazed, I came to a narrow intersection of a beige walled building. I turned left. That was where I came from, right? It wasn¡¯t long before I came to another intersection. On one path, there were ebony stairs leading down and on another there were ivory stairs leading up. No, this wasn¡¯t where I came from.


    How were there even stairs leading up?


    I hadn¡¯t fallen through more than a single floor.


    I didn¡¯t fall through the floor to begin with!


    No matter, I turned back. I would take the other route. Looking behind me, I came face to face with a plastered wall.


    Frustrated, I slammed my head against the fake wall once more and tried to change the world. The pain hurt, but it helped centre me. Something was messing with me. Messing with my senses. It was like the Artist, only worse. This had been put together by someone who knew what they were doing.


    Fuck.


    There was only one person I knew of who could build a prison like this. The Warlock. He wouldn¡¯t have come to Procer. But he wouldn¡¯t need to. He would only need to construct the trap and then have it be set up by somebody else. I couldn¡¯t see him going to all this effort for me on his own.


    I reached out with Innovate and tried to feel for boundaries. It took time. I wasn¡¯t sure how long. That alone was enough to lead to the onset of panic. I had to distract myself more than once to break out of the mental effect.


    Something reached back. I grasped the force tightly and felt relief flow through me. The angels, how had I forgotten?! I no longer felt so alone. They started to help out. With their assistance, I started making out the shape of the trap. There were two parts to it. First, there was the prison I was contained within. I suspected it had been put together by the Warlock.


    The scene started to shift again. I bashed myself against the barrier in order to shake myself free.


    The construction was ingenious. It felt like a densely interlocked clockwork. Every time I tried to break out, the gears shifted to counter what I was doing. For some inexplicable reason, there was a flaw grafted deliberately into it. The prison had been designed to fail with time. I found that it was almost as if it had been built to stall me rather than trap me. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what the point of it was. Why go to so much effort only to waste my time?


    ¡­ Because they had a plan that involved taking me out of the picture only for a short while.


    Then there were the mental effects that I was struggling against. These attempts to confuse me were the work of somebody else. A wizard who was far less skilled than the Warlock, but still more skilled than most wizards I had seen. I suspected it was whoever had deployed the trap.


    Incidentally, I could feel out where they were. I reached out to the dagger in my hand with my mind. I could feel it. Feel it in a way that told me it was real. I closed my eyes and felt for the presence of my assailant. There was no guarantee this plan would work, but it was worth a try. If my enemies were trying to delay me, then time was essential. I needed to break out of this trap.


    Letting fate guide me, I pulled back my arm all of a sudden and threw.


    The world suddenly felt different. I heard a gurgling sound.


    That was when I opened my eyes. The illusion had faded. I was greeted by the sight of a short black youth clad in purple robes about five feet below me and several feet away. He had his hands wrapped around the hilt of my dagger. The blade was buried in his throat.


    Complete and utter bullshit.


    He collapsed to the ground.


    Throwing my only weapon would usually be a very bad idea. If the attack didn¡¯t connect, then I would no longer have a weapon. I wouldn¡¯t have even made the attempt in different circumstances, but the situation was possibly desperate. I had read enough stories of heroes throwing weapons while blinded to be willing to give it a chance.


    Unfortunately, killing him had not freed me from the larger trap. The bubble of densely interlocking wards was still surrounding me. They were like black ink shifting sinuously in the air. A mosaic that hovered before me, visible to the naked eye. I was standing awkwardly on the base of the magical prison, suspended in the air above a table in the middle of a large, open room. There were desks with wizards paraphernalia to the left-hand side and a door leading somewhere else on the right.


    Finding the position uncomfortable, I sat down in my airborne cell.


    On the far side were curtains that had been drawn closed.


    I looked down at the table directly below me. There was a lot to take in. Open hands facing upwards were pinned to the wood under them by their palms with plain steel daggers. Each of them was surrounded by intricate script that had been traced into the surface. The script was slowly fading away. It was the timer I could feel. I could tell at a glance the working was High Arcana. I looked away before the onset of a headache arrived.


    Great.


    The Warlock was not even here, and he still had me trapped. All it had taken was for somebody else to pull the trigger. I started to count the hands. It wasn¡¯t like I had anything else to do. There were twenty-three of them.


    I should have expected that.


    It was at least one of the balls that I had failed to catch. I found it to be obvious in retrospect. There had been twenty-three killings with the notes. Twenty-three monsters for twenty-three hours and twenty-three types of demons. Establishing the length of my imprisonment and the type of monster I was. All the victims were monsters. The notes had simply made sure to solidify the idea in people¡¯s minds. That was the symbolic link the Warlock was using to fuel this working. One of the stories that made up who I was.


    I was the good monster.


    Being the good monster didn¡¯t make me any less of a monster. It surprised me that the working had allowed my weapon through at all. The choice seemed deliberate. I didn¡¯t know why. Maybe he didn¡¯t like the sorcerer who imprisoned me. It was possible the Warlock wanted me to kill them.


    There was also no reason to keep me suspended over the table. It seemed like a stupid decision, and not one that the Warlock would not have made. There was nothing requiring me directly above it. I just needed to be within a certain range. It was almost funny. With the right instruments, I could have broken out of the prison simply by sabotaging the working below me.


    I didn¡¯t have the right instruments.


    Instead, I was stuck staring freedom right in the eye. I felt like I was being mocked. At least I knew how long until I was free. Time for me to wait and find out how much could go wrong over the course of a day.


    ¡°Ahem,¡± a voice called out.


    Slowly, I lifted my head and looked towards the door.


    ¡°While dark and broody totally suits you just fine, you should probably get outta that ball in the air before the city goes kaboom.¡± A familiar figure in a green outfit was standing at the doorway.


    It was the Bard. It surprised me that she wasn¡¯t dead. There wasn¡¯t a single part of me that trusted her. She knew more than she should. She had predicted Max¡¯s death before it had happened and been in the same room as the Artist at the time. Was she a villain?


    I wasn¡¯t in the best of moods.


    ¡°And who are you?¡± I asked, tensing inside my sphere.


    ¡°Isabel of Mercantis,¡± she replied, coming to a stop on the ground beside the table. With a thunk, she rested her lute carefully across the surface of it and took a sip from her flask.


    ¡°Mind removing those hands?¡±


    It would be easy for her to break the working. The ritual was intricate enough that even small changes to it would have dramatic results. Even a feather-light touch in the wrong place by those fair hands of hers would interrupt the spell. Despite that, the spell remained unbroken.


    ¡°I¡¯d kinda like it if you didn¡¯t go and fuck up like this,¡± she declared enthusiastically. ¡°In fact, I¡¯d kinda like you outta that ball as soon as possible.¡±


    Despite her statement, she completely ignored my request.


    ¡°Well, Isabel, how did you know my story?¡± If she wouldn¡¯t break me out, maybe she would explain how she learned about my past.


    ¡°How about you spill. Tell me the story of how you got into this mess. Start from when you arrived,¡± she countered.


    I was about to press her again. A subtle nudge from the angels changed my mind. They wanted me to entertain her request. That¡­ almost certainly made her a hero.


    It didn¡¯t mean she needed to be a nice hero. Mercy preached the lesser evil. I could see a hero of Mercy allowing Max to die if it meant the Artist did as well. Was she aligned with Mercy? As far as I knew, their hero was the Grey Pilgrim. I wasn¡¯t sure if they could have more than one hero acting in their Name, but there was no point dismissing the possibility. If that was what had happened, I would likely never trust or forgive her.


    Despite that, I would go along with this for now. I trusted the angels, even if I didn¡¯t trust her. It wasn¡¯t like I had anything to do right now except talk and try to find a way out of the sphere.


    ¡°The nobles have been feuding for a long time. Then the revolution started more recently. That was when I arrived. Started looking into how to fix it. My plan was to find which noble would be acceptable to the peasantry and sideline all the others.¡± I grimaced. ¡°That hasn¡¯t been going so well. Recently I discovered this place and the Praesi involvement. Decided that we needed to put a stop to it.¡±


    ¡°Pffft,¡± she snorted. ¡°There are man-eating tapirs that do storytelling better. Trust me, I¡¯d know.¡±


    Rude.


    ¡°I¡¯m summarizing.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± she said dubiously. ¡°Better pick it up quickly. Lemme spin you a quick tale. Not a good one. I¡¯m trading one shitty story for another. See, Praes usually has a Dread Emperor or Empress and a Chancellor. Often what happens is the head evil builds the empire up and the Chancellor schemes. Here¡¯s a good example of something a bit different.¡±


    The Bard took a pull from her battered flask, then scowled at me. The contents of the flask were steaming hot. I could see the trail of vapour as it rose into the air and occluded her face. Only the red of her hair could be seen.


    ¡°Long time ago in Praes there was this real upright guy called Traitorous. Real barrel of laughs that he was, he played the entire Empire for fools. One of the highlights of his reign was putting on a wig and a pair of cantaloupes, then pretending to be his own Chancellor. All the High Lords and Ladies bought the act. Can you guess what he did next?¡±


    ¡°Betrayed himself?¡±


    I felt the guess had merit. I had nothing to support it, but it would fit with the name Traitorous.


    ¡°Right on the money! Kinda easy to guess, even for you. The Chancellor betrayed the Dread Emperor. Classic story. Real good stuff. What does that story have in common with this one?¡±


    I thought about what she was saying for a moment.


    ¡°I came into Aisne aiming to change the system from right beneath the ruler¡¯s noses. I wasn¡¯t fighting them directly.¡±


    ¡°See, the fuck-up was right at the start.¡± she agreed. ¡°Missed the part where you¡¯re the real power. Also, where Traitorous could politic, and you can¡¯t convince bees to protect honey. Not as important. Heroes don¡¯t help the evil monarchs. You walked into this mess and fit yourself into the Role of the traitorous second in command. Planning to remove the rulers you don¡¯t like from right under them. Pretty shitty traitorous second in command at that. That¡¯s a villain¡¯s Role. Then Praes throws its hat in with the revolution. Kinda a stupid mistake on your part. You let the villains be the heroes.¡±


    A nest of vipers started writing in the pit of my stomach. I didn¡¯t know if the Bard was right. It didn¡¯t matter. Her argument was plausible enough that it could be true.


    ¡°What should I have done?¡±


    ¡°What you coulda done was make a big noise. Walk around and heal people. Take charge. Then pass it to someone else after you find them. That¡¯s what a hero does. Instead, you fucked up and chose to play your enemy¡¯s game. Never do that. They¡¯re better at it than you. Look where it got you. Now you''re stuck in a ball.¡±


    ¡°Going to let me out?¡±


    ¡°Nah. You do the whole heroic escape thing just fine. You gotta be careful when you do it. Don¡¯t mess up afterwards. It¡¯s kinda hard for me to help you out,¡± the Bard said, sounding serious.


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°The Black Knight is a clever fucker. Gnomes blow up a city and nobody knows anything else about it. Liesse goes up in flames a few years later. He puts the stones together and makes himself a house. Say it happens a third time,¡± she stared at me knowingly with large brown eyes. ¡°Fancy being the girl who blows up every city she fights in?¡±


    ¡°That¡­ Surely that wouldn¡¯t work?¡±


    ¡°Depends how he plays it. Want to bet on if Procer will risk keeping you around? Now see, destination you ¡®sploded all over the place does nothing for me. Can you finish up with the moping and skip ahead to that escape I talked about?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m stuck here, in case you haven¡¯t noticed.¡± I told her. ¡°You aren¡¯t doing much to help.¡±


    It was telling that even though she had said she wanted me out, she hadn¡¯t volunteered to break the barrier herself.


    ¡°No, really?¡± She took another sip, then grimaced. ¡°This stuff is truly vile. Want a sip?¡±


    ¡°I swore an oath that I wouldn¡¯t.¡± I answered.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing fun, I promise.¡± The look she sent my way while saying that was so toxic that it could have poisoned a lake.


    I doubted that I could die of poison. If it was alcoholic, I¡¯d just decline to drink it. She was probably telling the truth. The drink was definitely hot. I would take a chance. I was feeling thirsty and there was nothing else for me to do in my prison.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I acquiesced, reaching out towards the edge of the egg I was inside.


    She reached back. The flask passed partway through the barrier. The inky letter work in the air parted around its battered body. Her fingers never crossed the threshold at all. Grabbing it, I took a sip.


    I was struck by the bitter flavour of a tea that I had not tasted in an age. A tea from a world that I had long thought lost.


    Not only was it from Earth Bet, but it stirred distant memories that I had long since forgotten. I was certain that it was brewed the way my mother had made it.


    A pang of longing tore through me.


    My eyes widened. I dropped the battered flask from shock. It struck the surface of the table with a loud clanging noise.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make another mess like this. I dislike being made into a janitor.¡± The Bard scolded.


    I registered the words distantly, but my attention was focused elsewhere. How could it not be? It was as if I had tasted the smallest piece of a part of myself thought beyond the bounds of Creation.


    It took more than a few heartbeats before I composed myself.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said guiltily, lowering my gaze to the table below. The Bard took several steps back and disappeared out of the corner of my eye.


    How was there so much tea in the flask?


    It was as if an ocean of tea had spilled. The beverage had made a mess of the table and many of the finer details were erased. It was continuing to pour out onto the floor. Moments later, the barrier winked out and I fell.


    I landed with a yelp on the hard wood surface. My clothes were a soggy mess. I took a brief look around the table once more. Where was the flask? I should have landed directly on top of it.


    It had vanished.


    I lifted my eyes off the surface of the now ruined artefact and searched the room for the Bard.


    She wasn¡¯t there either.

 Liminal 3.0c

    ¡°Note: The claim that children are the future requires further investigation. Three specimens failed to provide any meaningful predictions during vivisection, but the entrails of the fourth do show promising results.¡±


    ¨C Extract from the journal of Dread Emperor Malignant II


    <hr>


    Yvette followed behind Songbird in one of the back alleys near the front gates of the Hall of Records. Songbird looked odd today. She was dressed in red and blue formal attire and had her red hair hanging loose over her shoulders. It made her appear almost regal.


    Songbird shouldn¡¯t look regal.


    The cheers of bird call heralded the dawn of a new day. Yvette stopped a moment to watch some of them. The greens and blues of their feathers were pretty.


    What rituals would use those feathers as components?


    Sustained flight? No, it wouldn¡¯t work. It was a pity the birds were so small. If they were bigger, the plumage would look good in her hair. She felt someone shaking her arm again. Oh, right! Songbird. They had a mission. Yvette flushed and looked away briefly.


    ¡°C¡¯mon kid. Taylor¡¯s not here, we can have some fun for once. There¡¯s a Princess for us to rescue.¡±


    Yvette¡¯s attention narrowed in from a country estate to a city manor at the statement. A Princess?


    ¡°You told Taylor that you didn¡¯t know what¡¯s in the Hall of Records did you lie to her why did you lie to her Taylor is good and now you¡¯re making trouble for her!¡± Yvette scolded, her cheeks puffing out.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you¡¯re her biggest supporter. You even went and got that badge of hers sewn onto your clothes,¡± Songbird sighed and looked down at her with wide brown eyes. ¡°Look kid. We can do this without her. If she knew what was in the stuffy old building, she would ¡®sist she helps out. She struggles with sharing work. Think of this as helping her out.¡±


    Yvette clenched her fists and thought it over. Taylor was always so busy. Taking notes helped a little, but this was a chance to help lots. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like they were in any real danger, they just needed to distract a few guards and make their way in.


    ¡°Fine!¡± she huffed, ¡°but next time you must be more responsible this isn¡¯t okay.¡±


    The two of them continued on towards the Hall of Records. They were close. It wasn¡¯t long until the walls of the place loomed over them, fifteen feet high. The compound was huge and occupied over a mile of city space. Despite Quentin¡¯s death, the place remained heavily guarded. Over fifty men stood outside the rusted metal gates.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you can do something about them?¡±


    What would Taylor have done? Taylor would have simply made the guards forget they were even here. Yvette wasn¡¯t Taylor, though, much as she wished she was. If she was Taylor, then maybe her family would still be alive.


    <hr>


    She missed her friends. Ever since they had moved to Rhenia she had been so lonely. She tried making new friends here, but everyone was so different to back home. There weren¡¯t many other kids her age and they were all so stuffy. It just wasn¡¯t the same. Back in Brabant, Alexander and her used to play in the fields outside the manor and chase the sheep around. Although, Alexander was getting annoying now. He teased her about how she chattered all the time. Her ma had never approved and told her not to consort with the peasantry, but she didn¡¯t stop Yvette either.


    Ma and Da had told her not to play outside after dark. That it wasn¡¯t safe, especially during Spring, and that she should stay inside. It was so boring inside, though. There was nothing to see or do, and Ma always found her and made her do chores.


    So she had sneaked outside. Da wouldn¡¯t punish her, so long as she wasn¡¯t caught. Besides, the sun hadn¡¯t really set yet. It wasn¡¯t really after dark, was it? They were in a large house on the outskirts of Rhenia, close to the mountains and although the sun was hidden behind some trees, and it was sort of dark, it wasn¡¯t actually night yet.


    So there!


    Satisfied with her reasoning, she scampered between the flat roofed houses that were set apart from their own. Unlike their last home, they were close enough that Yvette could pretend they were in the same neighbourhood. Unfortunately, the other children here weren¡¯t so fun and always insisted on worrying about the Ratlings. It was so lonely. She ran past the other houses towards the stream that was just a little to the east of the town. It was the most interesting feature nearby. Arriving, she let the cool water from the rivulet run over her feet as she made her way deeper in. Leaning down, she started picking up rocks from the riverbed, examining them. Skipping them on the surface of the river wasn¡¯t much fun. It was far too narrow, and she only got in one or two skips, but it gave her something to do.


    <hr>


    Yvette dismissed the memory, hiding a shudder. She needed to be strong. Ma and Da would have wanted her to be happy. The priests had told her so. So she needed to smile and pretend everything was okay.


    So long as other people were around, and she kept talking, the gloom was pushed back. It distracted her from the memories that she didn¡¯t want to think about. She had tried talking about it with others, but they were dismissive. ¡°That¡¯s just the way of things,¡± the people of Rhenia would tell her. She had thought about talking to Taylor. Taylor would definitely care, but the girl was sad enough already. Yvette didn¡¯t need to make her any more miserable.


    The cool light of the moon fell down on them from above. The guards were changing. Frowning, she looked on. The number of guards had been increased and there wasn¡¯t a gap that would allow them to move.


    ¡°Lost in your head again?¡± Songbird inquired, ¡°the plan, remember? Can you knock them out?¡±


    Yvette shook her head. Taylor had told her that learning how to mess with other people¡¯s bodies was hard, and she would teach her that later. Fire was easy though and was something she already knew how to do. Taylor wouldn¡¯t approve of this. She would say it wasn¡¯t responsible, but Yvette wasn¡¯t a hero like Taylor was, and it was something she could do.


    ¡°I can start fires to distract them,¡± she suggested.


    Songbird thought it over for a moment, then nodded.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t tell miss broody about it,¡± Songbird replied.


    Looking at one of the buildings down the road from the Hall of Records, she started to go through the process of conjuring an inferno. She reached with her good hand into the pouch on her left-hand side and pulled out an amber gemstone, some glass, and a few pieces of straw. She wasn¡¯t really performing Jaquinite magic any more, although she had started out that way. Everything she did was patterned on how Taylor changed the world.


    Unfortunately, that made all of her magic horribly symbolic. Almost every spell had been turned into a ritual. Amber for stasis or duration. She wanted the fire to burn for some time. Glass for clarity. She wanted to create a real effect, not an illusion of one. Straw for fuel. If she had oil, it would work better, but Taylor wouldn¡¯t let her carry that around. All the added details were time-consuming compared to regular sorcery, but Yvette had decided it was worth it. The effects were always amplified far beyond what was otherwise considered normal for wizards.


    How should she handle this? Yvette had been studying what Taylor did for a while now and thought she could copy some of her abilities, she still found herself frustrated. She wanted to be able to recreate Taylor¡¯s larger manipulations of the world. No matter how hard she tried, she hadn¡¯t managed to succeed. She had taken a peek at some of Cordelia Hasenbach¡¯s notes out of curiosity and seen how important Taylor really was. If other people could do what she did, then maybe she would be happier? There definitely wouldn¡¯t be so much for her to worry about.


    More importantly, perhaps then the next time the Ratlings came, people would be better prepared.


    She turned her attention back towards her working.


    Oops.


    Without paying attention, she had filled in sections to mimic one of Taylor¡¯s effects.


    ¡°Um, Songbird?¡± Yvette whispered hesitantly.


    ¡°Yes kid?¡±


    ¡°I might have made a mistake and need a few heartbeats to fix it this can still be salvaged I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    ¡°Right, sure,¡± a constipated look crossed Songbird¡¯s face.


    Yvette pulled out some silvered glass. It was for reflections or mimicry. Illusions, not a real effect. Then she added and a few drops of Taylor¡¯s blood that she had stored in a vial. Convincing Taylor to donate the blood had taken less effort than Yvette had expected, although asking the older girl for it had been scary. She continued her incantation. The working was reaching its terminus and there were only a few variables left to define. She added an exclusion for Songbird, herself, and the Hall of Records. Being caught in her own spell would be embarrassing. All that was left to define was the intensity of the flames and the size of the affected area.


    Movement out of the corner of her eye distracted her for a moment. Oh, it was just another cat. It was a pity she couldn¡¯t heal it. She hadn¡¯t been taught how to. Taylor had thought that she was too distractible, and it wouldn¡¯t be a good idea. Yvette turned her attention back to the spell and realized she had finished it while she had been lost in thought. The spell triggered. The lines in the air before her erupted in shades of chartreuse and vermilion. All the components she had set out vanished.


    Yvette¡¯s shoulders slumped as she felt as if she had just been made to run for miles.


    Phantom emerald flames erupted everywhere the eye could see. Yvette¡­ didn¡¯t know how large the area she had defined was.


    The sound of screams started up almost immediately. They were loud and unpleasant. Yvette shrunk in on herself.


    ¡°I asked you to make a distraction, not burn down the city!¡± Songbird let out a strangled moan.


    ¡°The fire isn¡¯t real it¡¯s just an illusion but people will think it¡¯s real because it will burn in their mind like real fire even if they aren¡¯t actually hurt so the city should be fine,¡± Yvette replied, averting her eyes.


    She was going to be in so much trouble for this.


    ¡°S¡¯pose this works,¡± Songbird replied, although it sounded as if she was talking through the neck of a trumpet. ¡°At least the guards are sure to leave their posts and deal with the fire.¡±


    <hr>


    A quarter of an hour had passed and Yvette started to head home. If she stayed by the river any longer, then the sun would actually set. She wiped her muddy feet against the grass as she went, careful to remove proof of her trip. Behind her in the distance, she could vaguely hear the rustle of something in the brush. She dismissed it. It was probably only a bird. The birds here didn¡¯t look as nice as the ones down south. She missed their old home.


    Yvette walked past the trees that lined the path outside their home and eased the door open slowly as she arrived, she didn¡¯t want to alert her Ma to the fact that she had been outdoors. It didn¡¯t matter, her Ma was on the other side. Angrily, she glared down at Yvette.


    ¡°Would you care to dust the shelves of my mind by reminding me what the rules were regarding spending time outdoors past the setting of the sun?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t dark yet!¡± Yvette pouted.


    ¡°Rhenia is not safe!¡± Her Ma shouted back, ignoring her protest.


    ¡°Everything¡¯s not safe here. If it isn¡¯t safe, why did we come?¡± Yvette stomped her foot.


    ¡°Had you kept an open ear rather than allow your thoughts to drift up in the clouds, you would know the answer. The trade of blades down south threatened to consume us. I shall be informing your father about your unscheduled excursion. This behaviour of yours is uncouth for a lady.¡± Her Ma reprimanded.


    Oh no, Da would punish her!


    Yvette looked at the ground, shifting from foot to foot. She let her lip quiver and then started to plead. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell Da, please. I promise to be good it was only one time I promise please don¡¯t let Da know.¡±


    Her Ma looked at her for a moment, then huffed with exasperation. ¡°Fine, you little warlock.¡±


    <hr>


    The guards stared dumbly at the ominous green flames rising all over the city. After a moment, they cursed. Half of them ran off, their steel plated boots clanking against the pavement. The other half remained behind. Yvette acknowledged that her plan hadn¡¯t worked, but it had thinned the numbers enough that maybe they could sneak past.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Y¡¯sure the fires aren¡¯t real?¡± Songbird asked, sounding concerned.


    ¡°Of course not!¡± Yvette replied, affronted.


    She was sure Taylor would be disappointed with her for this anyhow.


    Songbird eyed the remaining guards thoughtfully.


    ¡°S¡¯not like we can fix this if they are,¡± Songbird muttered. ¡°Can you anything about them? M¡¯not sure if we can sneak past them without being noticed.¡±


    Yvette bit at her lip. This wasn¡¯t the way the infiltration was supposed to go! This would be so much easier if she could figure out how to hide them. Why did the stupid effect have to hide itself from her senses when Taylor used it?


    Taylor had been teaching her a lot of new magics. Unfortunately, the easier spells to learn were all lethal, and they were trying not to kill here. What could she use? There wasn¡¯t anything she felt confident enough to cast here, except for maybe¡­


    Yes, that would work.


    People needed air to breathe, right? This would do nicely. She wasn¡¯t modifying people¡¯s bodies directly, so Taylor couldn¡¯t complain. What could symbolize the removal of air? Yvette scruched her nose in contemplation. Coming up with an answer was harder than she thought. Then she realized that she didn¡¯t need air, she needed air gone. Emptiness, absence, a vacuum. She didn¡¯t need anything here because nothing symbolized nothingness.


    Satisfied, Yvette began to improvise.


    Define the region ¨C a sphere ¨C modify the duration, centre the effect around a target rather than keep it static. There! She made a series of complicated hand gestures and squeaked out an incantation, then released the spell. The air around the soldiers was pulled outwards. Suddenly there was a large void surrounding them. Yvette winced. She knew that this wasn¡¯t very nice to do to people. But it would work without hurting them. She was sure of it.


    They tried to shout, but no sound came out. Next they started reaching towards their necks and their eyeballs did this icky bulging thing then went pop. She hadn¡¯t predicted that. Maybe she had hurt them a little? A couple of hundred heartbeats later, and they were asleep on the ground. Yvette allowed the effect to fade. They had tried to run as well, but seizing their legs with cords of air stopped that. That worked better than Yvette had expected.


    She turned around to Songbird, who was looking at her in concern.


    Odd.


    ¡°Does that work?¡± She beamed at Songbird.


    Please tell me I did good. Please tell me I did good.


    ¡°Sure kid, that works,¡± she replied. Songbird looked like she had swallowed a rotten egg.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they can be healed I didn¡¯t kill them and I know priests can heal eyes this is fine I promise!¡± she stammered out defensively.


    ¡­ She¡¯d messed up somewhere, hadn¡¯t she? Why did she always mess up!


    ¡°We¡¯re not telling Taylor about this, are we?¡± she squeaked.


    ¡°We¡¯re definitely not telling Taylor about this,¡± Songbird agreed fervently.


    That was good. Yvette had never had a sister, but she imagined that Taylor was kind of like one. A big, broody older sister who seemed far too unhappy for a hero. They shouldn¡¯t give Taylor more to worry about, she needed to smile more often. And about things that weren¡¯t so grim. When Taylor laughed, it was usually about something awful.


    It was nice being around Taylor. Her chattering didn¡¯t seem to annoy her. Instead, it normally made the older girl smile. That wasn¡¯t the case for most people. They ran past the now unconscious guards. Yvette felt a small pang of sympathy for them, but well, they shouldn¡¯t have been helping the Usurper! It was their own fault. Yvette was sure of it.


    <hr>


    The cries of the townsfolk outside was the first sign that something was wrong. Yvette blinked owlishly, slowly waking up from her rest.


    ¡°-Mount the stairs and find our moon calf of a daughter. The Ratlings have raised their paws against the defenders of this town!¡± She heard her Da shout.


    Her heart hammered loudly in her chest. Ratlings. They were the monsters to the north, from deep inside the Chain of Hunger. Hopefully a Horned Lord wasn¡¯t coming to eat her. The other kids here teased her about that. They told her that they would come for her first, because she was soft and juicy and not from Rhenia at all.


    She needed to run and hide!


    Fumbling to her feet, she ran out of the bedroom. That was when she heard the crunch of something from downstairs.


    Her Ma shrieked. Then her Da bellowed, roaring with rage.


    Yvette slid down the bannister in her nightclothes, making her way to the ground floor. The servants were in disarray. She turned the corner and saw her mother lying on the wooden floor in a slowly expanding pool of her own blood. She was gasping for air, struggling to breathe. Across her throat was a jagged red smile.


    Her father roared again. He had drawn a blade and was fighting with a furry creature. It stood hunched at about her height on two legs and slashed wildly back and forth with claws. At its feet lay the broken remnants of a crudely made spear. Her father swung down with a meat cleaver, digging deep into the creature¡¯s skull. Then, another jumped over the still thrashing corpse, barrelling into her Da.


    Her Da tumbled to the ground, losing his grip on the cleaver.


    Gasping in and out, Yvette looked around to see what she could do. She ran down the hallway towards the kitchen, but in her panic didn¡¯t notice another one of the creatures entering through the door at the other end. It pounced on her. She shrieked, falling to the ground as deep scratches were gouged into her arms.


    She felt hot, hazy and oh so scared. Everything was going wrong, her own world was going up in flames. She reached out desperately for someone, anyone, to help her and felt something at the edge of her mind. She latched onto it and pushed all her fears into it.


    The Ratling that had fallen on her flew back, and everything surrounding her suddenly caught light.


    Yvette ran.


    Fast as she could blink, she was back at the entrance. The inferno spread unnaturally fast, though. The other Ratlings were gone. Stopping by her Ma and Da she tried to get them up.


    ¡°Wake up, wake up please wake up I¡¯ll be good I promise,¡± she sobbed.


    They wouldn¡¯t move.


    Come on, come on, come on!


    The heat continued to build.


    Someone came through the door, she didn¡¯t see who they were.


    They picked her up and pulled her away.


    No, what about her Ma and Da?


    Thrashing, she tried to break free, but they wouldn¡¯t let go. They pulled her out of the room. Slung over the figure¡¯s shoulder, Yvette watched the flames consume their home, and the remains of her family with it.


    <hr>


    They made their way past the now unconscious guards. The inside of the compound was quiet, almost unnaturally so.


    ¡°We¡¯re not trying to sneak any more,¡± Songbird hissed. ¡°Can you knock them out?¡±


    Yvette considered the request. It shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. The spell didn¡¯t require any components. Nodding her head like an excited fox, she repeated her earlier working. It didn¡¯t take long for the guards to collapse on the floor.


    Without the need to be sneaky, their progress accelerated. They didn¡¯t bother to stick to the shadows and dark corners. Instead, Yvette incapacitated the remaining patrols. Soon they arrived at the entrance.


    Songbird ran up to the door and did something to the lock. It clicked and they made their way inside. They arrived in a large atrium with pillars on either side. There was a desk at the end, with large open double doors on either side of it. Rows of shelves could be seen on the other side.


    The place was as abandoned as the farmhouse buildings during winter. Shouldn¡¯t there be more people?


    ¡°Where are we going now Songbird you told me there¡¯s a Princess to rescue we haven¡¯t seen her yet?¡± Yvette asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s in a different building deeper in. S¡¯pose we¡¯ll need to knock out a few more guards first.¡±


    They made their way through the double doors on the right. Songbird led, and Yvette followed behind. Suddenly, Songbird seized her by the shoulders and pulled her behind one of the shelves. Another patrol was moving up ahead. Ignoring the books digging into her sides, Yvette started muttering once more. They weren¡¯t even fitted into the shelves properly. Who did that?


    It didn¡¯t take long before the guards slumped to the ground.


    They reached a doorway on the other side. Opening it, Yvette was surprised to find it led outside.


    ¡°Why did we go into this building if you planned to go out the other side surely it would have been easier to just go around?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight every guard in the compound. It¡¯s easier to hide from eyes between the shelves,¡± Songbird explained. ¡°M¡¯not sure that you could deal with all the guards at once.¡±


    ¡°Why are there so many buildings inside the Hall of Records it makes no sense surely there should only be books?¡±


    ¡°If you were listening when I explained it to Taylor, you would know,¡± Songbird chided. ¡°It has live-in scribes and housing for them. The building we really want is over there.¡± Songbird pointed on their right to another heavily guarded building.


    Yvette bit her lips. ¡°Are you sure there¡¯s a Princess in there it¡¯s very well protected and I don¡¯t think we can sneak past them how did you sneak past them.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Songbird replied smugly. She puffed out her suit and almost seemed to preen like a bird. ¡°Funny how people talk with the right incentive. S¡¯pose you need to know. Princess Clotilde has her personal guard with her. S¡¯why Quentin didn¡¯t just attack. The reputation damage would see him lose out to the other two. He¡¯s waiting for her to surrender.¡±


    ¡°And she hasn¡¯t starved or died of thirst yet how can she keep on living in there?¡±


    Songbird just gave her a flat look. It probably meant that it was another detail she had missed.


    ¡°She won¡¯t run out of water. There¡¯s a supply in there. She¡¯ll prob¡¯ly starve if she doesn¡¯t escape soon. There¡¯s only so much food in the building. Can you take out the guards?¡±


    Yvette said nothing in response. Instead, she concentrated and repeated her earlier working once more. It didn¡¯t take much effort to incapacitate Quentin¡¯s loyal guards. The two of them approached openly with nobody barring their way. Songbird tried to open the door, but found that it was locked.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you can blow this up?¡±


    Frowning, she eyed the door. Taylor had shown her a lot of ways to break things. The door wasn¡¯t a person, so breaking it was fine. It didn¡¯t take much work to send a wave of force at it. The door went flying off of its hinges.


    <hr>


    Yvette was excited. She was going to be meeting a real hero. Not much was known about her, other than the fact that she once fought the Warlock, but still! The elderly lady she had been living with had been¡­ alright. She was nice to her, but she hadn¡¯t been all there. Still, it would be mean to say that. She was just happy she would be meeting a hero, and one that was apparently quite young.


    The local garrison of soldiers had found her shortly after the fire she started. They had headed towards the manor directly after the attack. Being orphaned due to Ratling raids wasn¡¯t too uncommon here, so the guards were almost uncaring¡­ However, they showed a great deal of interest when they learned how the fire had started. War Wizards were highly prized in Rhenia for their ability to help keep the Ratlings at bay, and so she was promptly sent to be housed with some of them.


    She was supposed  to learn from some of them whenever they had the time, but they were often tired or disgruntled and didn¡¯t teach very well at all. That was all going to change now. Cordelia Hasenbach had recruited a hero into her service, and Yvette had been assigned to her as an assistant.


    It had been a while since she had been so excited about something. This was something to celebrate. How many people could say they actually met a real hero?


    Smiling, she knocked on the door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± a voice called.


    She entered the Chosen¡¯s room and came face to face with a tall, plain looking girl with long, curly black hair. The girl was seated on a chair to one side and drinking a cup of tea. The girl was dressed like a servant in white, not wearing extravagant clothing. Perhaps one of the Chosen''s servants? This Chosen was said to be sworn to Compassion. Maybe she just took care of people who were in a bad place. That would explain why an orphan like Yvette would be assigned to her. Still, it surprised her that the girl would be brazen enough to just sit and drink her mistress¡¯s tea like that.


    ¡°Excuse me, I¡¯m looking for your mistress, do you know where she is?¡±


    The girl started to choke, then turned her way. Her large eyes fixed themselves on Yvette.


    ¡°My what?¡± She asked, sounding scandalized.


    ¡°The Chosen? My name is Yvette and I¡¯ve been assigned as her assistant so can you please tell me about her I don¡¯t want to embarrass myself when I meet her.¡± Yvette¡¯s babbling trailed off.


    The girl smiled for some reason and put down the cup, ¡°Well Yvette, what do you want to know about her?¡±


    <hr>


    On the other side of the door was a group of Clotilde¡¯s personal guards, who were already drawn their blades and levelled them towards her. Yvette wasn¡¯t willing to take a chance on their safety. One short muttered incantation later, and she had hoisted them up in the air.


    Songbird let out a choked snort from behind her.


    The two of them crossed through the doorway and entered the room inside. They strolled down the red carpet laid out across the entrance hall and into a large, open room. There was a small group of people all seated around. They all looked haggard. Their faces withdrawn. It was clear they had not eaten in a long while, and the stench of unwashed bodies wafted her way.


    All of them were climbing to their feet as the two of them entered. Yvette did not feel it was smart to give them that chance.


    ¡°So it has come to this. Has Quentin truly fallen so far as to hire the assistance of a sorcerer in an effort to see me brought low?¡± A woman called out from further in.


    ¡°Your Royal Highness,¡± Songbird gave an exaggerated bow. ¡°While your concerns are prudent, in this case they are misplaced. Would you allow me to shed light on the happenings outside these halls?¡±


    The two of them started up a highly involved discussion. Songbird asked Yvette to free Clotilde¡¯s bodyguards shortly after their talking began. After doing so, her attention began to drift. Princess Clotilde didn¡¯t look healthy. She had sunken eyes and the shakes. It was obvious to Yvette that she needed sleep, a good meal, and the help of a healer. Regardless, they started to escort the Princess out of the compound only a few moments later.


    Finally, they made their way out the Hall of Record¡¯s gates onto the streets outside. At a glance, it was evident just how much chaos the city had been thrown into in the time since they had entered.


    ¡°Y¡¯know kid, I thought you told me those flames weren¡¯t real?¡± Songbird asked, pointing into the distance with her index finger.


    Yvette looked out into the distance.


    The illusory blaze she had started as a distraction had spread. Across the city, the light of more fires rose up into the night sky. Yvette concentrated for a moment and dismissed her illusion. The ominous green flames vanished, but the blackish yellow ones in the distance remained.


    Yvette¡¯s fingers twitched nervously as she watched the burgeoning disaster.


    Hesitantly, she tugged at Songbird¡¯s arm. ¡°We didn¡¯t do that right?¡±


    Songbird nodded enthusiastically.


    ¡°S¡¯right, kid, we definitely didn¡¯t do that.¡±

 Liminal 3.10

    ¡°I find that an over-abundance of cleverness is not needed to rule Praes at all. After all, it remains substantially easier to solve people than problems. Once people have been dealt with, the complications tend to go away. Sorry, what was that, Chancellor? I couldn¡¯t hear your voice over the screams.¡±


    ¨C Dread Emperor Nihilis I, the Tanner


    <hr>


    Grimacing, I levitated myself off the now damp table and took a look around.


    The Bard was definitely gone.


    Well then.


    This was the second time she had appeared out of seemingly nowhere and helped me indirectly. If that were the extent of it, I would probably be feeling grateful. The problem was the circumstances of each event. Not only did she know too much about me, but I strongly suspected that she had a hand in arranging Max¡¯s death.


    Floating myself to the floor, I willed away all the excess mess and quickly cleaned off my own clothing. I walked over to the dead wizard and pulled my knife out of his throat. After cleaning and sheathing it, I made my way towards his desks on the left.


    There were many books strewn liberally across them. Evidently he had not been an organized sorcerer. I wanted to search them for important information, but I suspected that I didn¡¯t have time. Whatever plan the Black Knight would have put into action was executable within twenty-three hours from the point of my capture.


    I encased them all in a solid golden dome and levitated it beside me instead. I surrounded myself in a forcefield and then made my way to the curtains. Opening them, I looked out onto a scene that sent chills down my spine.


    Orange flames flickered over many of the buildings in the distance. Smoke rose into the sky, and the late afternoon sun could barely be made out through the haze.


    I didn¡¯t have time to dawdle.


    I willed the window frame away, surrounded myself in a transparent sphere, and then flew outside with the confiscated books trailing in the air behind me. Turning around, I briefly examined the prison I had been holed up in. It was a part of the location in the slums I had been heading to.


    The guards who had followed me had been impaled on stakes in the front of the building, their faces locked in a rictus of agony. I¡­ hadn¡¯t wanted that for them. For anyone. I gently imposed my will against them, turning them into clouds of white smoke. Maybe they would have wanted to be returned to their family. I felt it was more likely that their corpses would be desecrated during the ongoing disaster, then their last wishes would have been upheld. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t have the time to try to find their families, so¡­ this was the best I could do for them.


    I looked back at the building I had escaped from.


    At least I know where I am.


    The place looked in just as poor a shape as it had when I last saw it. Remembering my former plan, I willed away the building¡¯s roof and slammed it down with debilitating amounts of compassion. The angels did not intervene. It surprised me. I had expected them to help me once more. I proceeded to fly overhead and survey the place from above.


    So that¡¯s why they didn¡¯t bother.


    Aside from the corpse of the man I had killed, there was nobody else inside. It had been entirely deserted. There were signs that suggested that the occupants had left recently. Dust hadn¡¯t accumulated, and the interior was mostly clean.


    If there wasn¡¯t anyone remaining here, then it was time to work out what else I needed to do. I¡¯d start by surveying the city. I needed to understand exactly how bad the situation was.


    Looking to the sky, I flew up higher and higher. The wind battered against the surface of my sphere. If I had been exposed to the elements, I imagined it would have been exhilarating. Unfortunately, I had bigger problems on my mind.


    I came to a stop several hundred feet up and looked down on the city below me.


    At a glance, almost a third of the city appeared to be on fire. It was the richer parts of the city. What I would term the financial and industrial districts, as well as some larger estates. I had no idea what the locals would call that part of Aisne. I hadn¡¯t been in the city long enough to find out. It was difficult to make out from up high, but there was fighting on the thoroughfares as well.


    The conflict had reached its tipping point.


    What should I do?


    There was no Warlock or Fae Prince to contest me here. If I succeeded or failed in handling this situation, it would be on me and me alone. The city looked to be in a state of total anarchy.


    I recalled the Bard¡¯s advice. I didn¡¯t know for sure how right she was about the story I had fallen into. Neither did I know if I could trust her. What I did know was that the larger the story I was within, the harder it was for me to feel. A narrative involving an entire city¡¯s worth of people was so broad that¡­ It was almost impossible for me to feel the threads of it. I had to work almost entirely off of my knowledge of stories, rather than rely on my sense of them.


    I might not trust the Bard, but that didn¡¯t mean her advice wasn¡¯t good. It didn¡¯t conflict with my existing plans in the current circumstances. For now, I would treat her guidance as well-intentioned.


    That meant prioritizing. I¡¯d start with the fires. They would kill the most people and do the most damage in the long term. Suffocation, burning to death and the destruction of critical infrastructure were all problems that would be caused by the flames. Meeting up with Songbird and Yvette would be a good idea if I had the faintest idea where they were. I had been trapped in that prison for some time and even though they knew where I should be, they hadn¡¯t broken me out.


    I hoped they were safe. There was no telling what their situation was like. No, I chose to believe they were safe. I wouldn¡¯t let myself consider any alternative.


    They must have been busy with something else.


    I didn¡¯t bother to descend. Instead, I flew horizontally towards the first of the fires. Smoke rose up into the air. I coughed for a moment, it was difficult for me to breathe. That was easily corrected. The smoke vanished with just a thought, and my sphere started to actively filter the air.


    I focused my attention back onto the fires below.


    It took heartbeats to snuff the first inferno out. I shifted my gaze from blaze to blaze and killed them one at a time. It took a while, but eventually there were none left within my range. I began to move. At the height I was operating at, people looked like nothing more than ants down below.


    Another fire, then another. There were so many of them that my fists started to clench in frustration. No matter how fast I worked, it wouldn¡¯t be fast enough. This disaster was still going to claim so many lives.


    Some movement caught my attention far down below. I narrowed my gaze, squinting. It looked like there were two people locked in conflict at the edge of a building. There was a loud boom as I threw myself towards the fight. I heard a loud scream only a few heartbeats later as I closed in on the scene.


    I was too late.


    ¡°And one for when I asked for an extension,¡± a nail pierced the corpse¡¯s left eye under the force of a hammer. ¡°And one for when you told me no.¡± Another nail into the other eye.


    A man was singing while gleefully driving nails into the decapitated head of a woman in an extravagant dress. I guessed from the gore that the decapitation had taken more than a single blow. Despite this, I suspected she had died quickly. The head had been pinned to the side of a building. Even though she was dead, he continued with his macabre act.


    What¡­ should I do?


    There was no justice to be found in Aisne. Only anarchy. There was no reason for me not to impose my own sense of right and wrong because there was no other justice for me to even consider deferring to. Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t an efficient use of my time to judge people one at a time right now. I seized him with force and dragged him up into the air.


    The man struggled and snarled for a moment, before turning my way. He stilled. I branded the words, ¡°singing nail man,¡± onto his forehead in white lettering as a reminder of what he did later. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if I ended up with many prisoners before the day came to an end.


    I created a large golden half sphere with a flat platform at the bottom and trapped him inside of it. Air was allowed through, but nothing else. It would suffice as a half measure until I had time to evaluate his actions later. I started to move once more with both the books and my prisoner in tow.


    Flying up into the air once more, I returned my attention to putting out fires. I stopped numerous times. A group of guards that looked to be stringing up revolutionaries. They went into a second dome. A band of revolutionaries that had trapped some screaming women and children wearing expensive clothing in a building and were in the process of setting it alight made me pause.


    Fuck it.


    This went beyond what I was willing to defer. If justice was working in Aisne these people would die. I didn¡¯t believe they deserved to live. Suspending judgement until later would only result in the same outcome. I firmed my resolve and made a choice. Moments later, the arsonists vanished into a cloud of white smoke.


    The action was effortless, and it made me want to hurl. Not because I killed a man, but because the conflict in the city had made people into monsters. I was angry, frustrated. The corners of my eyes stung and tears rained from above onto the ground below.


    I just wanted it all to end.


    There was nothing good about any of this. Nothing just, or kind, or deserved. Everything was just so¡­ pointless.


    I continued onwards. The number of people in my two temporary prisons continued to grow. There were many communities that had been cordoned off, with residents peering through makeshift fortifications that had been cobbled together out of broken debris fearfully. Twice more, I witnessed scenes that I was unwilling to put off. I rendered judgement immediately before continuing to extinguish the flames. A fight only broke out once within my globes before the prisoners realized that tempting fate was not a good idea.


    I came to a halt outside the House of Light I had visited. There were wooden barricades established outside and a mob trying to break through. Flying down, I added them all to my temporary prison.


    ¡°Your assistance is a soothing palm against the fever plaguing this city,¡± the priestess called out. ¡°Are you able to aid with tending to the wounded?¡±


    ¡°Bring out only those that are hard for you to heal,¡± I declared abruptly. ¡°There is too much going wrong for me to stay in one place.¡±


    Fitting inside the building would be impractically hard with the need to manage my prisons.


    Her face softened as a look of pity crossed the priestess¡¯s face.


    ¡°Then we shall endeavour to hasten your departure.¡±


    A group of people ran inside and brought out those with more nasty wounds. They carried them carefully on makeshift stretchers. I took a moment to fix their wounds. It didn¡¯t take me long to reach the final patient. It was a boy who was surely not even ten years old. He had large parts of the right-hand side of his body burned off.


    I shoved my grief aside as I finished up.


    ¡°Thank you-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve done what I can here,¡± I interjected. ¡°While I¡¯d love to stay, there is still so much I need to do. Farewell for now.¡±


    I missed anything else that was said as I flew up into the sky. I took a moment to survey the city once more. There were still so many fires. It felt like I was slowly losing one step at a time.


    This is too slow.


    I wasn¡¯t putting out the fires fast enough. What else could I do? I needed something indiscriminate that wasn¡¯t harmful. Like¡­ magical rain.


    I hadn¡¯t been able to perform sorcery, but I was certainly capable of imbuing water with esoteric effects. While I had no idea how to construct this working myself, I knew it was the type of effect that my family would help me with achieving.


    Grasping onto the idea like a woman drowning at sea, I flew up and up and up into the sky. Higher and higher until I was just below the clouds. My globes orbited me like planets around a star as I rose. I needed to modify both my own orb and my prisons in the process. The air in the sky was just a little too thin for us to breath, and the temperature too chilly as well.


    I pictured a scene. A comforting, grey cloud stretching across the sky. Rain would fall from it. Rain that would nurture, heal and extinguish flames with but a touch.


    The first of my ghosts vanished.


    The angels reached out, assisting me with my working. A cloud extended out from one end of my range to the other. Heartbeats later, and glowing silver raindrops began to fall. I descended with them. Gold and Crimson light from the west was broken up by the storm I had created. It was almost melancholic to see.


    The plaza in front of the palace stood out like a sore thumb as I made my way down. People were mulling around on it. Enough of them that their movement was notable even from high above. I adjusted my course towards it.


    The rain picked up as I continued downwards. It rapidly shifted from a light downpour to a deluge, cascading onto the city beneath. The sound of the droplets falling around me was so loud it almost drowned out the screaming of my soul at the sheer misery around me.


    I arrived just above the plaza.


    What¡­ what do I even do?


    Should I¡­ Should I kill all of them?


    There was a crowd of thousands outside. Many of them were actively in conflict with the guards. Others were busy dragging people out of their homes towards a line of stakes which had been planted into either side of the road. The loud, agonizing cries of people screaming as they came to horrendous ends called out to me. The sizzling of skin, along with the scents of burning flesh and smoke, could only just be heard and smelled over the pouring of the rain.


    What was worse were the people alive on the stakes. The people who were being healed by my rain, only to suffer through trauma again and again.


    I rapidly willed those stakes away.


    The palace gates had been broken open and part of the crowd mulled inside. Corpses were strewn haphazardly all over the floor, some piled up into mounds. Watered down blood ran across the tiles. I could taste the salty tang of tear drops as they reached the edge of my lips.


    Right in front of the gates, two figures had been set apart from the rest. Both had been crucified. The first was on the left-hand side and the other on the right. I didn¡¯t recognize either of them, but that didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t guess. It would be Verill and Garson. They were the only two I could imagine earning that kind of distinction.


    Are the people of Aisne really no better than this?


    These¡­ These were the people I was trying to help. It stung me like salt poured over an open wound. What was I even supposed to do? I felt so very lost. Absently, I lowered the two spheres of prisoners beside me down onto the ground and deposited the contents.


    There was no point in containing them.


    They were no worse than anyone else.


    The Bard¡¯s words came back to me again? What would a heroine do here? A speech. It would almost certainly be a speech. I was so emotionally wrung out that I didn¡¯t know if I had one in me, but I¡¯d at least make the attempt.


    I¡¯d lean fully into theatrics if it ended this horror show.


    There was a plan I had considered in the depths of the swamp. A scheme involving using my abilities to put on a dramatic display. It was intended for Prince Amaury, but could be used here. This wasn¡¯t the same set of circumstances. It didn¡¯t mean that if I modified my original idea, I couldn¡¯t achieve the result I wanted.


    What should I say? I only had one chance to do this right. I wouldn¡¯t talk about what I felt. They wouldn¡¯t care. This was about them and their anger. I wouldn¡¯t ask them to empathize with the nobles. Even if both sides were human, I doubted there was much empathy to go around. How about¡­ the future? Yes, I¡¯d talk about the future and nothing else. Stick to a single theme and hope that it would work.


    I was about to consume multiple ghosts to fuel the working when both innovate and the angels suggested an improvement. I seized upon it. This was cheaper than trying to create a Grey Boy bubble and about as effective for what I wanted.


    My second phantom vanished. The entire palace disappeared along with it. Multiple floors of painted marble tiling, exquisite artwork and priceless historic relics gone in just a second. It was a price I was willing to pay if it brought this conflict to an end. I needed the building as fuel. The working I was envisioning was complex and would only appear once my speech was done. It was exhausting, and I didn¡¯t bother to hide it. This was not the time when feigned strength would matter even the slightest.


    A loud cheer went up from the crowd as I acted. I suspected that they believed I was acting on their behalf. It wouldn¡¯t take long to disabuse them of that idea.


    People started to fall. The stakes along the road all vanished, and gravity was temporarily weakened in the area where the palace once stood. Their descent slowed to a crawl. Once they had all touched the ground, I banished the effect with a thought.


    ¡°Enough,¡± I declared.


    A wave of brilliant white light rippled outwards from me and crashed against the plaza below. My voice was projected along with it, slamming into the crowd. The effect was harmless but attention grabbing. It was partly ruined by a small section of the cone that slammed against the sphere of floating books, but I doubted that anyone had noticed. Irritably, I floated them all behind me. I hoped this display would be enough to stall the carnage.


    Everyone paused and looked up.


    ¡°Does this make you happy? Look around, are you satisfied with this?¡± I gestured broadly, pointing towards the smouldering wreckage of buildings and the fires still burning in the distance.


    I was modulating my voice in a way that made it possible for everyone to hear me over the downpour. If I had not done so, then I likely would have gone entirely unheard over the crackling of the rain on the tiles.


    There was a roar from below. A shouted cry that yes, the crowd were satisfied. This was what they wanted. This was the justice that they sought. They wanted their oppressors brought low. This is what the nobles had earned. Some peasants looked like they were about to take up their weapons again.


    I felt my shoulders begin to sag at the futility of it all.


    The charred wreckage of another building vanished. I pushed what I felt out towards them. My disappointment, sadness, anger, and disgust. Everything that this farce of a revolution had brought on. Finally, a huge wave of compassion crashed into all of them. The crowd staggered and their voices stilled.


    I could have blamed this on Praes. In some ways, I likely would have even been partly right to do so. I chose not to. It didn¡¯t matter who had stoked the fires of their fury, they were still angry. I needed to snuff the embers of their anger out.


    ¡°Really, this satisfies you?¡± Another ruined structure disappeared. I created a staircase of light descending just past the gates of the now missing palace and began to walk down. The crowd remained silent while I made my descent. I could feel their eyes follow me from the sky to the ground.


    Eventually I came to a stop. The sound of my boots striking solid ground was muffled by the raindrops. I was standing right before a large elevated bronze statue of a man holding a sword up towards the sky. It was probably one lord or another. I neither knew nor cared about which one it was. The books landed in a weather shielded pile to my right. I turned around to face the crowd, then mentally shoved away the detritus and sat down on the top step.


    Start with the present. Drag them into the moment.


    ¡°Look to your left and right. Observe the people around you. See the blood on their faces and hands. The stench of bile in the air. Or how about the flecks of entrails hanging from your hair? Let what has happened here truly sink in. Does the feeling of those weapons in your hands ¨C the knives, or stakes or even broken pieces of furniture ¨C make you happy? Does this feel like a victory to you?¡± My voice reverberated quietly through the air.


    The crowd looked around at each other uncertainly. I could see the horror of what had happened dawn in the eyes of some. For others, the realization had yet to arrive.


    ¡°Raise your hands if you can read.¡± I whispered.


    The mob shivered. Less than a tenth of them raised their hands. About half of those looked to be victims that had yet to be killed.


    ¡°Now raise your hands if you can do more than basic arithmetic. If you can solve engineering problems or forecast future crop yields. How many of you know how to calculate how much weight a bridge can hold or estimate how much grain is needed to last everyone through the winter months?¡± Almost every hand remained down. Only a few put their hands up.


    ¡°How about economics, statecraft, and strategy? Were any of you taught those subjects?¡±


    Only the merchants and nobles raised their hands in the air.


    ¡°Come winter and without proper governance, many of you will starve to death. Consider your friends and family. Are you happy to consign them to that kind of end? I know that I wouldn¡¯t be. If it isn¡¯t food, then how about plague or disease? Are those more pleasant? If that¡¯s not bad enough, how about an invasion by the Dead King? What would you do then without proper leadership?¡± I paused for a moment and let them take in what I said.


    Some nobles and merchants were smiling. A few let out cries of affirmation. I turned my gaze their way and glared.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare think this makes you any better. You were educated. You did learn. Unlike them, you have no excuse. Many of them didn¡¯t know what this would lead to. Instead of bickering among each other, you should have done your duty. This revolution would never have happened if you were half the men and women you claimed to be.¡± My hands were balled into fists in my lap as I spoke. By now I was shouting. My voice was angry and hoarse.


    The cheers died down.


    ¡°So tell me, what comes next?¡±


    For a while there was silence.


    Then I felt the tugging of a story.


    ¡°You were chosen by the Gods Above. Does this not make you the one best suited to guide us from this point onwards?!¡± a voice shouted at me from somewhere within the crowd. At first, I couldn¡¯t hear it over the rain. It was only once the cry was taken up by many who were with him that it made its way to my ears.


    Great.


    I couldn¡¯t deny their claim. I needed the authority, even if it was just to rein in the mob. Worse, I couldn¡¯t say yes. What did I say? If I knew how to govern a city, then this wouldn¡¯t be a problem. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t. Which was why I had spent the past few days trying to find someone else. Now that many of the nobles were dead, I had no idea where to start.


    I said nothing as I continued to think. The silence stretched out awkwardly. The nobles started looking at each other like sharks during a feeding frenzy, as if smelling an opportunity. The peasants looked around wearily.


    This wasn¡¯t bad enough to temper their ambitions?!


    ¡°I believe that it is within my means to provide a solution to this quandary,¡± a familiar voice called out. I tilted my head to my left and saw Songbird approaching. I wasn¡¯t sure how she made her way onto the palace grounds. She was dressed up in far more regal clothing, although the rain spoiled her appearance. Her red hair was both muddy and plastered against her head. She looked like a bedraggled cat caught out in a storm.


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    Songbird also wasn¡¯t alone. I felt relief upon seeing Yvette and confusion as a large contingent of guards clinked their way towards me. They were surrounding an emaciated woman with sunken eyes and pale skin. She was clad in a gorgeous yellow dress.


    ¡°Introducing her Royal Highness, Princess Clotilde, the rightful ruler of Aisne,¡± Songbird declared, bowing towards the woman.


    My eyes narrowed on her.


    ¡°Are you really her?¡± I demanded sternly, glaring at her.


    She opened her mouth and then shut it again quickly. I suspected that she was about to say something unwise. Her eyes quickly darted towards the now empty plot of land where the palace had once stood. The woman¡¯s throat constricted as she gulped. Eventually, she began to speak. It was difficult to hear her. She had to shout so that she could be heard over the rain. ¡°That is indeed both my name and my title.¡±


    I looked her over more critically. Despite affecting a regal bearing, there was a tremor to her hands. I didn¡¯t know what she had suffered through, but I could tell that it was rough.


    Fine.


    I had made up my mind. I didn¡¯t know if this was the correct decision, but it was better than any easy alternative.


    ¡°All the nobles, their guards, and administrators stand there,¡± I ordered and pointed within the palace grounds to my left. ¡°All the merchants stand there,¡± I pointed to my right. ¡°And all the peasants remain standing in the thoroughfare.¡±


    Everyone hastened to follow my orders. None were willing to question what I said. People shuffled around awkwardly under my glare as the rain continued to hammer down.


    ¡°I want a count of how much of the administration was killed. I know that not all of them are present here. We will work with what we have.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take long for the tally to be completed. Even at best, over half of the ruling class was gone. I didn¡¯t know exactly how much of a catastrophe that was. Trying to make sense of tragedies on this scale was¡­ pointless. Everything just became a wash of meaningless numbers. That remained true even when it was staring me right in the face. Some things were simply beyond quantification. What I did know was that it wasn¡¯t good.


    Now, how to phrase the next part of my speech? I was going to have to propose ideas that made people unhappy. There was no way about it. I¡¯d stick the unpleasant news between two pieces of less unpleasant news for the peasants, and hope packaging the shit sandwich that way was enough to curb their anger.


    ¡°Right. This is what is going to happen. All of you,¡± I pointed to the peasants, ¡°will vote for the twenty people you believe will best represent your interests. I suggest selecting some individuals who can read and write. They will list all of your complaints and bring them to Princess Clotilde in two days'' time. She will look over them and see what she can do. I will be there to ensure that she doesn¡¯t play you for fools. I can probably tell if she¡¯s not acting in good faith.¡± I looked over the crowd meaningfully.


    Now, the part that the peasants wouldn¡¯t like.


    ¡°She is going to be in charge,¡± I pointed at Princess Clotilde, ¡°because nobody else can reasonably be in charge. I do not know how to govern a city, even if I can resolve this conflict. She will not involve herself in continuing the pointless civil war that is occurring outside the borders of this Principality. Furthermore, she will not spend time scheming and conniving. I expect her to begin the process of reorganizing the governance and reconstruction of Aisne.¡±


    I turned towards the nobles.


    ¡°You will all do your best to assist her. You will toe the line and do your duty. None of you will have any higher ambitions. If you think to test me on this, then look at the state of the palace. There is nothing preventing me from doing the same to you. Don¡¯t believe me? Ask the people with words branded on their foreheads what happened to those who exceeded my level of tolerance. They were there to witness it first-hand. I¡¯m giving you a chance to fix this because you¡¯re the only people with the required knowledge to keep Aisne from falling apart. Don¡¯t make me regret that. It won¡¯t end well for any of you.¡±


    The peasants looked like they were about to mutiny at the very idea. I needed to find a way to placate them. I turned my attention towards the last group. Those I hadn¡¯t yet singled out.


    ¡°And you,¡± I pointed to a small crowd of merchants standing gathered to my right, ¡°will not price gouge people due to the ongoing crisis. You will price your wares fairly and take the current circumstances into consideration. If you do not, I will personally drop the value of your wares into nothing, and you will spend the rest of your lives living on the streets. I have had enough of blatant greed ruining people¡¯s lives to last me until the end of the decade.¡±


    Any goods that were needed for survival I would manifest regardless. I didn¡¯t care how upset that would make the merchants.


    The last of my energy drained out of me. I looked over the crowd searchingly.


    Should I talk about guilt?


    No, it was a bad idea. Everyone was guilty. There were no innocents in this tragedy. The nobles for their unrestrained ambitions, and the merchants for their greed. The peasants were guilty of starting a revolution without asking what happens after it comes to an end. Ignorance may not be a crime, but in these circumstances, acting on it certainly was. They were also guilty of killing people in horrific ways. If I judged this crowd, all of them would be dead. The nobles, the merchants, and the peasants. I considered that to be a tragedy all on its own. The topic of guilt needed to be discussed, but I had to do it without ascribing fault. How do I do it?


    Talk about it in the context of the future.


    ¡°I¡¯m offering an amnesty for the crimes done today,¡± I whispered. ¡°Until midnight, judgement has no place, so long as you put down your weapons and work on rebuilding. If there are specific crimes you want redressed that occur after today, Princess Clotilde will be responsible for reorganizing the justice system as well. Do not think of abusing my goodwill. It is my compassion that you are relying on, and nobody else¡¯s. Everyone will have a second chance. We will all work on trying to do better together. So please, don¡¯t make me regret this. None of us are satisfied, but let¡¯s not make a bad situation worse. Enough has gone wrong already. Let''s try to make this right.¡±


    I paused. There wasn¡¯t much time before my working had to be completed. Was there anything else I wanted to say? Every word needed to be considered carefully, because it would be so easy for me to lose the crowd. I felt that there was only one question left for me to voice. It was time for me to bring this back to where it all started.


    I stood up and raised my arms wide, palms upturned towards the sky above.


    ¡°So here we now stand in the ruins of your once fair city and I pose these questions to you once more. Do you find yourselves satisfied? Is this the dream that you aspire towards?¡± My voice bellowed out and echoed across the plaza.


    The crowd was quiet for less than a heartbeat before I had my response. I felt the smallest amount of relief when my audience raised their voices and this time shouted no.


    I gradually lowered my arms again as the cries of the crowd died down.


    There was more that could have been said, but I decided it was wiser not to. The working completed. Behind me, above the ruins of what was once the palace, an illusion coalesced into existence. A crystallized moment of time. What I was hoping would be the end of the revolution. I had captured the event in vivid detail.


    Everyone paused to watch.


    It started from the first word I spoke before descending from the sky and ended with the final time that the crowd called out in response. That was when the scene faded into white smoke and began all over again. The scents, the smells, the raw emotions of the scene. All of it was captured on repeat. Unlike my first idea it was not a localized illusion trapped in a time loop, instead it was a recursive illusory display. It was a smarter idea anyhow. This way, people could walk inside the vision and truly feel how horrific it actually was. I did not know how long the illusion would continue for. I suspected that it would last for an exceptionally long time.


    Hopefully it would be long enough for the message to become engrained.


    ¡°Let this be a reminder to all of us of what happens when ambition reigns unchecked.¡± I finished.


    I took a moment to watch one repetition. My speech¡­ hadn¡¯t been the greatest. Certainly not worth immortalizing. But I felt that it would do after taking into account all the added details. Piles of dead bodies, men, and women with washed out gore staining their clothing. The crazed and frenzied looks in people¡¯s eyes. The scene had an intensity to it that I felt was moving enough to hold up on its own.


    I turned away from it.


    Princess Clotilde began to organize the response. After taking a moment to talk to her, I did my best to assist. There was just too much for me to do. Between healing wounds, breaking up conflicts and putting out fires, I was at the very end of my wick. The flame at the end of my candle was soon to gutter out.


    The sun had long since set when Yvette and I made our way back to the Fated Connections. Somehow, the building had not burned down. I dropped the pile of books in the corner of my room absently. I took off my boots and changed into nightclothes, then said my prayers and collapsed into bed. There wasn¡¯t a single part of me that wasn¡¯t exhausted.


    I felt the angels hug me tightly as I slid under the duvet. And as I drifted off into the land of dreams, I curled up into a ball and wept in a way that I had not done for an exceptionally long time.


    <hr>


    Dawn arrived and I felt drained.


    After changing into a proper outfit, I padded over to the piles of books and started to drag them to an indoor table on the second floor. Since I was cut off from my abilities for the day, it ended up taking me several trips. I didn¡¯t want to sit on the balcony. I didn¡¯t want to know if the city was worse off today than it was when I had gone to sleep.


    After opening the first of the books, I noted that it was written in a cipher and I couldn¡¯t make out a word of it. I placed the book carefully in a new pile on my left. A pile for any books that I could not read. I¡¯d ask Songbird if she could make anything of them, although I doubted she could. We would probably need a proper cryptographer to decode them.


    Gradually, the pile grew.


    Maude walked by. She took one look at me, then went downstairs. She came up with a steaming pot of tea and a cup and saucer not long afterwards. I accepted them gratefully and rested them carefully on a chair to my right. The table space was fully occupied with books.


    Eventually I found a book I could read. It looked like a collection of the wizard¡¯s notes. It did not surprise me to learn that the Praesi sorcerer was attempting to overreach and wasn¡¯t following the plan. Rather than simply leaving the city, he had been attempting to find a way to correct the Warlock¡¯s working after it had been deployed. It seemed that the idea of having a demon on a leash appealed to him too much.


    I skimmed through his notes further.


    It turned out he was one of four ¡°apprentices¡± the Warlock had taken on in the aftermath of Liesse. Although, it wasn¡¯t much of an apprenticeship. He was required to assist the Warlock. Providing assistance ended up translating into performing menial chores. In exchange, he was allowed to observe the Warlock perform magic. There had been no real teaching involved. The man had rather predictably been unhappy with the arrangement.


    It made me wonder why the Warlock had taken on apprentices in the first place. Surely he didn¡¯t need the help?


    The Warlock had also allegedly needed to help rebuild the city of Liesse with magic. There weren¡¯t many details on that process. The descriptions that were given made it seem as if the task was treated more like a complicated puzzle than a punishment.


    ¡°There you are,¡± Songbird sang in subdued tones. ¡°S¡¯pose you don¡¯t want bad news?¡±


    ¡°Give me it anyway,¡± I sighed and looked up.


    Her clothes were unchanged from the night before. However, they did look dishevelled after both her time in the rain and going unwashed for so long. In her right hand was a partly eaten pastry. Despite how whimsical she sounded, her eyes were bloodshot. There was a wild look to her. I didn¡¯t know how long it had been since she had last slept.


    ¡°Nah, m¡¯gonna start with something more upbeat,¡± she paused and took a bite out of her snack. ¡°Nobody is scheming. Everyone is toeing the line. The remains of the guards have been organized and have been doing their best to quell the unrest.¡±


    ¡°Are they killing people?¡±


    ¡°Nah. They¡¯re taking prisoners.¡±


    ¡°Good. What¡¯s the bad news?¡±


    ¡°Some idiot went and vanished the palace,¡± she grinned at me as she spoke. ¡°Now, m¡¯not naming any names here, but could you think of anyone who could do that?¡±


    ¡°Nobody comes to mind,¡± I answered drily. ¡°Why¡¯s that a problem?¡±


    I could guess, but I¡¯d let her say her piece. She¡¯d helped me salvage the situation, and I¡¯d let her indulge her need for theatrics.


    ¡°All this year¡¯s documentation was stored there. Population censuses, stock counts, you name it. Older stuff is in the Hall of Records. At least that isn¡¯t also torched. But somebody turned everything recent into a fancy light show. S¡¯pose you couldn¡¯t tell me who did that?¡±


    ¡°It was a decision that I made in the heat of the moment,¡± I admitted. ¡°Where were you two?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± Songbird raised an eyebrow and took another bite. ¡°S¡¯pose it isn¡¯t. First, Yvette needed to creatively incapacitate some Praesi fucks who didn¡¯t know better than to wander around Aisne near the Hall of Records and cause trouble. That was when we were making our escape. They were prob¡¯ly after the Princess. Funny thing, she was imprisoned there. Then all of us were hiding from the revolution. M¡¯not a terrifying force of nature, and neither is Yvette. We came to the palace when we noticed the big display.¡±


    There was plenty to unpack there. I¡¯d deal with it when we weren¡¯t in a crisis. For now, I¡¯d worry about my friends.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Yvette?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s sleeping. Yesterday exhausted her. Y¡¯should talk to her. She needs to talk to somebody, and it can¡¯t be me.¡±


    That statement alone made me nervous. If Songbird was giving emotional advice, something must be very wrong.


    I pointed to the pile of encoded books. ¡°See if you can make sense of this.¡±


    She took a brief look over them and shook her head. ¡°Y¡¯should hand that off to Cordelia. Maybe she has someone who can help.¡±


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not as bad as it could be,¡± she told me seriously. ¡°Plenty of folk stopped fighting when the palace disappeared. Smaller fights ¡®casionally start, but the remaining guard is quick to step in. Most folk who were angry wandered over to the empty space to look at your display.¡±


    ¡°What about casualties?¡±


    ¡°Deaths are still being tallied. There are too many bodies. They¡¯re prob¡¯ly gonna be cremating them all soon.¡±


    That was about as bad as I expected. I was hoping for better news, but it didn¡¯t come as a surprise to me.


    ¡°And infrastructure?¡±


    ¡°Much better, but also not good. A few fancy buildings were burned down, but we don¡¯t care about them. Then there were some shops and two more granaries. One of the timber stockpiles went up in smoke and a couple of forges were raided. Lotsa buildings with partial but not complete damage. S¡¯pose it¡¯ll all be an issue later, but the situation is recoverable.¡±


    It was a disaster, but not as bad of a disaster as I had expected. That didn¡¯t stop it from feeling like a loss.


    ¡°Food shortages?¡±


    ¡°Nah. Princess Clotilde will cut back on exports. I gave her your thoughts on the subject. Funny that. She was keen to follow along.¡±


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Lotsa stolen weapons from the Royal Armoury. S¡¯pose it will be hard to reclaim them. The palace was the biggest loss,¡± she glared my way again.


    I averted my gaze.


    ¡°Good. It doesn¡¯t make any of this any better but¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re glad s¡¯not a total catastrophe.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Winter¡¯ll still be rough. Lotsa people will struggle.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully we can soften the blow.¡±


    Songbird said nothing for a while, then poured me a cup of tea and sat it carefully beside me. I had been so engrossed in reading that I had forgotten it was there.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I accepted it gratefully. The first sip I took had me wrinkle my brow in distaste. It was lukewarm. I had nobody but myself to blame for that.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, there¡¯s nothing saying we need to stay. The city has its new ruler. Mission complete. We can just leave,¡± Songbird suggested.


    ¡°No. We stay. Not forever, but at least until Aisne is more stable.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not sure why you want to. The job is done.¡±


    ¡°The job is not done,¡± I snapped at her vehemently. ¡°The job was never about putting a Princess in charge in the first place. It was about making the situation better. It was about helping people. That is what being a hero means. Not stopping monsters or fighting villains, but helping people. Pulling them out of a dark place and showing them that the world can be better. If you run away at the first sighting of the real problem, then you¡¯re not a hero.¡±


    Songbird reared back as if struck. The reaction only lasted a moment. It wasn¡¯t long before the mask was back on. That hadn¡¯t stopped me from noticing that it had broken in the first place.


    Something I said must have rattled her.


    She might have faked the reaction. I didn¡¯t believe that she had. I hoped that whatever it was, she took my message to heart.


    ¡°M¡¯going to help organize. You stay here for the day. Y¡¯should prob¡¯ly know there are guards posted outside. Don¡¯t worry about them. They¡¯re there so that people won¡¯t bother you. Sounds good?¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t planning any differently,¡± I answered. ¡°But you¡¯re going to wash up then head to sleep.¡±


    She looked like she was about to protest.


    ¡°No. You¡¯ve done enough. Sleep. I won¡¯t have you dying or collapsing on me,¡± I cut her off. Her mouth clamped shut.


    Songbird wandered up the stairs, and I turned my attention back towards the books. There was a small pile of tomes on Trismegistan sorcery. I would turn that over to Cordelia. Neither Yvette nor I could risk trying to learn it.


    I turned to another book. Finally, something that I could personally use. It included notes on the Revolutionary. Apparently, the man actually existed. Praes had only co-opted his movement after the man had left. There wasn¡¯t much about him. He had been a scribe that lived through a series of tragedies before deciding that the whole world needed to burn. I found his method of coping with his losses repulsive. The information was useful, even if it was bare-bones. It was better than having nothing at all.


    Reading them only made me feel even more depressed. It didn¡¯t matter that Praes had stuck their fingers into the revolution. The pieces had already been there. Sooner or later it would have ignited, with or without their involvement. This was¡­ people were just like this. Push them far enough and this was what they were willing to do.


    It shouldn¡¯t have come as a surprise. There was plenty that I had done that I had come to regret. It did come as a surprise. In my head, I had been considering myself an exception. I had been thinking that I was just a little worse than other people. Now I knew for certain that it wasn¡¯t the case. Push anyone far enough, and we all go too far.


    Yvette made her way downstairs half an hour later. Her movements were stilted, skittish, as if she was working her way up to something that she didn¡¯t want to do. She sat down opposite me and looked weary, drained in a way I had never seen her before.


    ¡°Are you coping?¡± I asked softly.


    ¡°Does it ever get any better?¡± she mumbled back.


    It wasn¡¯t what I had been expecting her to say. She wasn¡¯t chattering for once and that, if anything, made my heart clench.


    ¡°Be more specific.¡± I carefully inquired.


    ¡°I¡­ killed a lot of people yesterday,¡± she admitted, averting her eyes. ¡°Some of them I didn¡¯t mean to, others I had to. I told myself I was fine at the time but¡­¡±


    How do I deal with this?


    I hadn¡¯t been expecting to have to comfort a thirteen-year-old who had been forced to kill. It was another open wound, another hurt inflicted by this city. I had swiftly come to hate the time we had spent in Aisne. I wasn¡¯t sure how to handle this, but I would do the best that I could.


    ¡°But now that later has come, all you can do is think about it and wonder what else you could have done?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I told myself that maybe some of them weren¡¯t dead. That the priests could heal them. But I knew that it wasn¡¯t true. I think that before the plaza I might have managed, but after I saw what happened there I started to understand,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Keep talking. I won¡¯t judge you. I promise. No matter what you did, I¡¯ve probably done worse.¡±


    Yvette looked at me as if she doubted what I said.


    ¡°No, really. I¡¯ve done a lot that I regret. I once killed a child. There were mitigating circumstances and I justified it to myself at the time, but they don¡¯t take away from what I did.¡±


    Yvette scrunched herself up into a tight ball. She looked so small. She took two deep breaths and seemed to be working herself up towards continuing. Eventually, she opened her mouth and spoke.


    ¡°So many people there lost somebody important to them. All the people I killed had family as well.¡± Yvette paused for a moment. ¡°They¡¯re all going to hurt like I hurt. Does the pain ever go away?¡±


    ¡°From when your mom and dad died?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°No. It just scars over. With time, it becomes easier to deal with. But it never goes away. It will always hurt. Always feel like there is something missing.¡±


    ¡°How do you keep going?¡±


    ¡°One day at a time.¡±


    I stood up and dragged my chair over next to hers, then leaned in close and gave her a one-armed hug. She seemed uncertain for a moment, as if she was unsure whether she should lean into the embrace or shy away from it. A few heartbeats later and she made up her mind, then she clung to me like a limpet.


    ¡°What brought this on?¡±


    ¡°The fighting¡­ the revolution. Everything that happened yesterday was just too much. I tried not to focus on what was happening¡­ but then at the plaza.¡± she shuddered and rocked back and forth slowly, lost in thought. ¡°The peasants do really deserve better. They¡¯re just like us. They get angry and scared and frightened, and when they¡¯re hurt, they hurt us back.¡± A faraway look made its way into her eyes. ¡°So many people lost everything yesterday,¡± she whispered.


    What I didn¡¯t understand was why Songbird had allowed all this to happen.


    ¡°It¡¯s a tragedy,¡± I agreed. ¡°Why did Songbird let this happen?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t her fault!¡± Yvette shouted out defensively. ¡°She asked me to distract people, and my distraction¡­ didn¡¯t go to plan.¡±


    It sounded like I needed to be much more involved in supervising Yvette¡¯s use of magic than I already was. If Yvette was allowing her distractibility to kill people, then it was more than a minor problem.


    I also was not willing to let Yvette just absolve Songbird of any guilt. I had kept my issues to myself when I was younger. Convinced myself that my dad had too much on his plate. It had been a horrible mistake. I wasn¡¯t about to allow Yvette to make the same mistakes I had made.


    Songbird had been the adult. She should have been the responsible one. When I had a moment, I would take her aside quietly and find out more about the specifics. However, I would not be pressing Yvette further on the subject for now. She seemed fragile, as if she would break. I would give her some room until I felt she was in a better state to talk.


    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to be restricting your use of magic for a while,¡± I told her, keeping my voice soft.


    ¡°Am I a bad person?¡± she asked hesitantly.


    It was telling that she didn¡¯t disagree.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a bad person, Yvette,¡± I told her slowly. ¡°But¡­ you did something that can never be undone, and you need to recognize that. Accept what it means and then try to do better. Don¡¯t let it drag you down, but don¡¯t forget about it either.¡±


    Am I responsible for turning a child into a killer?


    I wasn¡¯t sure what to do about this. Was this my fault, or was this just the way Calernia was? It was a question that I wasn¡¯t prepared to answer.


    ¡°How can we make this better?¡±


    Some things you couldn¡¯t make better. They stayed with you forever, always haunting you at the back of your thoughts. Right now, that wasn¡¯t what Yvette needed to hear. So I didn¡¯t tell her that. I told her a comforting lie instead.


    <hr>


    Evening came sooner than I expected. I had remained indoors as promised. Songbird had slept for twelve hours straight before stumbling down and heading back out. Once she had eventually returned, she had filled us all in on what we had missed.


    The situation remained tense, but nobody had dared to test the rules that I had laid down.


    The three of us were clustered around a table on the second floor. We had been playing a game of cards. I felt almost guilty that I was wasting time doing so instead of looking through books or helping deal with the aftermath, but I pushed the feeling aside. Yvette needed something to distract her, and a small part of me admitted that I did as well.


    ¡°You¡¯re just a spoilsport who doesn¡¯t like losing you always complain about it no matter what happens.¡± Yvette chattered.


    Yvette had returned to her previous state of excitability. Her malaise had not lasted very long. That concerned me far more than it would if she had remained subdued. I wasn¡¯t able to assess how much support she required. For now, I¡¯d give her as much as I reasonably could.


    I noticed Yvette staring off into space every so often. I used to think she was just distracted. Now, I suspected that wasn¡¯t the case. I wasn¡¯t sure how to help. I was not equipped to be the mother to an ordinary thirteen-year-old. Yvette was not ordinary. She came with a whole host of baggage a normal child would not have.


    The only positive of this situation was that all her other issues made the idea of explaining sex and relationships to her seem far less daunting in comparison.


    ¡°What was that!¡± Songbird affected an air of outrage. ¡°That¡¯s not so. M¡¯perfectly graceful when I lose.¡±


    ¡°How is it you¡¯re the only one who ever complains?¡± I asked.


    I passed the deck over to her regardless. She started shuffling it.


    ¡°Besides, heroine¡¯s don¡¯t cheat.¡± I stared at Songbird solemnly.


    Both of them looked at me dubiously.


    For once, it was true.


    The game continued for a while and my mind drifted. I wasn¡¯t truly paying attention to it. The revolution still plagued my thoughts at almost every moment and with it, the sheer enormity of what I was trying to do.


    ¡°What¡¯re you brooding about?¡± Songbird asked.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°That moody look you have tells me you¡¯re lying,¡± she pressed.


    I sighed, ¡°Just thinking about everything wrong with the world.¡±


    ¡°Everything?¡± She sounded dubious.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Gimme an example.¡± Finally done shuffling, she started handing out cards.


    ¡°The Gnomes,¡± I answered.


    I may not have been thinking about them, but it was easier to talk about them than about my long term goals.


    Not that I could really do much about the Gnomes. They were a problem that could only theoretically be solved. However, their behaviour was easy enough to predict. Try to improve the lives of people through technological advancement and they will kill you. In Calernian story terms, they were the Sword of Damocles. At least¡­ I thought they were. It was odd. The Sword of Damocles didn¡¯t usually drop, and this one already had. I wondered if that weakened its potency. Either way, they were an issue for the far future. They were not something I had a hope of solving any time soon.


    ¡°Can¡¯t really do much about them.¡± She picked up her hand, then snorted in disgust.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s about the Dead King. Thinking about him too?¡± she inquired.


    ¡°He can probably be killed.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if it would be worth killing him, but I believed that it could be done. The losses would likely be catastrophic. I imagined that something like half the people living on Calernia would die in the process. It was a trade that I was almost always going to be unwilling to make. But I was confident that if push came to shove, it wasn¡¯t impossible to do.


    Songbird was taking a sip of wine as I spoke and choked.


    ¡°You planning on starting the tenth crusade, then?¡± she gasped.


    I gave her a flat look.


    ¡°I think there has been enough disaster here to last us for a while,¡± I answered diplomatically.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you were trying to fight him, how would you do it?¡± she pressed.


    ¡°Where I came from, the traditional story involved in killing the ancient undead monster locked away in the fortress of doom is to unite all the living good races into one fighting force and march them against him. So if all the living good races unite, I expect he will die shortly afterwards.¡± I explained.


    In my mind, the Dead King was Sauron taken to the extreme. Far more dangerous and competent, but potentially the same story. Unfortunately, I was more or less convinced that this Sauron would come back if he was put down.


    ¡°Granted, Calernia follows an entirely different set of stories, but¡­ he seems close enough to some of the stories I know to feel my old homeland¡¯s stereotypical solutions have some merit.¡± I continued. ¡°He likely also has his soul bound to something. That also fits the narrative. Traditionally it would be a piece of jewellery like a ring, but I¡¯d bet he¡¯s smarter than that if he¡¯s lasted so long. It would almost certainly be something outlandish, like an island or the moon. You would need to destroy whatever it is if you wanted him to stay dead.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s never gonna happen then?¡± Songbird laughed.


    ¡°Not any time soon,¡± I agreed.


    It took half an hour before the conversation died down. It was late and shortly afterwards we all said our farewells. After saying my prayers, I made my way to bed. I was already dreading what I knew was to come. Dreams or nightmares. Memories of my failures, or visions of mirrors spiralling up in the sky. They drew me, called to me. One pushing me from beneath, the other pulling me from above.


    As my eyes closed and my head hit the pillow, I saw pieces of a grand puzzle slowly slotting into place.


    Soon, the strings called to me, dancing in my mind''s eye.


    The ruined city to the north beckoned to me silently. I didn¡¯t know what had changed, but something deep inside me told me that change had come. That sensation warned me that not long remained until I learned why.


    Soon.

 Liminal 3.11

    ¡°Mercantis erected a pyre in reverence to its own greed. Far be it for them to complain when we hoist them to the pole and light the flames.¡±


    ¨C King Jehan the Wise of Callow


    <hr>


    Songbird and I arrived at one of the few undamaged estates on the western outskirts of Aisne. Yvette had stayed behind. Today was the day we oversaw the negotiations between Princess Clotilde and the peasants. I was filled with trepidation at the very thought. There were so many ways this could go wrong.


    Rows of carefully tended pines lined a cobbled pathway leading up to a rather modest flat roofed two-storey manor with red brick walls by noble standards. From a distance, it looked like there were tents set out on the rooftop. The place was idyllic, picturesque, cared for in a way that told a story about the person who lived in it.


    It stood in stark juxtaposition to everything that existed beyond the estate grounds. It was fake. There was nothing real about it. It was a lie that the owner liked to tell themselves to escape from the world outside.


    Maybe if I hadn¡¯t met the nobility, I would have interpreted the story differently.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you can try not to vanish this place while we¡¯re here?¡± Songbird teased.


    Breathing out slowly, I unclenched my fists.


    Arriving at an unblemished house like this after seeing all the damaged infrastructure had not been good for my mood. The location was so estranged from the city itself that little to no unnatural sounds could be heard at all. Our boots echoed across an otherwise almost silent vista, with only the gentle trills of bird call joining in.


    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be too hard,¡± I lied, turning her way briefly to respond. Like me, she was dressed formally. She carried a tightly bound stack of papers under her right arm.


    ¡°She¡¯s prob¡¯ly here because she¡¯s had a real shit few weeks. This place makes her comfortable. Helps her to recover.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t make me any happier.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, you¡¯re being too hard on her.¡±


    ¡°I am?¡±


    ¡°Princess Clotilde is pious. She also has a strong sense of morals. Now she¡¯s prob¡¯ly absolutely terrified that her soul belongs to the Gods Below for earning your ire after that speech of yours. She¡¯ll toe the line very closely.¡±


    I¡­ wasn¡¯t sure how much I believed Songbird¡¯s interpretation of Princess Clotilde¡¯s actions, but I would take that into account.


    ¡°I¡¯ll consider it.¡±


    Maybe I was being unfair to the woman. I hadn¡¯t actually interacted with her much, even if I was working with her to restore the city. Most of my time was spent out in the field. Meeting in the middle of an abattoir during a revolution did not make for a good first impression.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be too eager to give her what she wants, even if you intend to.¡± Songbird cautioned, changing the topic.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bargain as if I don¡¯t plan to stay. If I get a better deal than I want, then I¡¯ll just stay a few days more.¡±


    Songbird and I both suspected that the peasants would ask for requests that the Princess was unable to fulfil. The worry was that another revolution would spark if negotiations broke down. That was not an outcome I was willing to risk. I was planning to negotiate for additional concessions on their behalf as a result.


    ¡°S¡¯pose even a bleeding heart like you can do this much,¡± she muttered. ¡°Dunno why you¡¯re set on negotiating like this. You already made demands at the plaza.¡±


    I was unhappy with myself. I was frustrated that I had resorted to issuing orders. It set a bad precedent that I needed to amend. An unspoken edict had been proclaimed that power in the Principate was mine to hand out as I wished. That perception needed to change, even if it was partly true.


    It was another ugly truth. One that I was also guilty of shying away from.


    I was planning to bargain for my time as a result. I would offer my services for the reconstruction of Aisne in exchange for additional concessions for the peasantry. In reality, I would be helping out regardless. My plan was to try to mitigate the political fallout of my actions this way in advance. I would put on the appearance of standing beneath the rules.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t think of a better choice. It was probably a mistake.¡±


    Our conversation halted as we drew close to the entrance.


    Servants opened the heavyset large oak door before we reached it, and we were quickly led indoors. We were directed further in after taking off our boots and leaving them on stand beside the door. I tried to take in the place¡¯s d¨¦cor as we move. It was hard to do so when my mind was preoccupied with the discussion to come. We walked along a light wooden floor past tastefully framed pictures and potted plants without me taking in much detail as a result. Songbird was right about one thing. There was far more religious iconography in the place than I expected from an ambitious Princess.


    I¡¯d try to be more kind to her in future. Perhaps I was being too judgemental.


    I slowed as we passed a room with a group of peasants in it who seemed to be lost.


    ¡°That¡¯s not our stop?¡±


    ¡°The tides of fate have deemed otherwise. Those nineteen representatives chose to exclude themselves from the oncoming discussion and nominated only one of their number to speak in their stead.¡± The servant informed me.


    I stepped into the room briefly to verify what I had been told. After satisfying my need to know, I followed behind.


    It didn¡¯t take long before our guides had ushered us upstairs and onto the rooftop.


    The doorway leading towards the rooftop closed quietly behind us as we climbed the last set of stairs, and I was met with a strong floral scent as I made the ascent. I came face to face with a scenic view looking out into the open countryside.


    I turned.


    The rooftop was decorated with an assorted variety of potted plants. There was a large tent nestled among the cultivated beauty. Four chairs had been set beneath it. They were roughly facing each other in a square. Princess Clotilde sat on one of them, with an attendant and two guards standing beside her. She looked no healthier than when I had seen her last time.


    Definitely too judgemental.


    The nominee sat on the chair to her right. There was a side table on his right-hand side. A small pile of documents rested on top of it.


    Songbird and I made our way across. Both of them stood up as we approached.


    ¡°Your Royal Highness,¡± I greeted her, nodding my head in her direction then turned towards the man, ¡°and¡­¡±


    ¡°Fair weather to you. I hope that this does much to pull the curtains of tragedy aside,¡± Princess Clotilde¡¯s understated blue dress moved fluidly as she stood and returned the greeting. Her face looked weary and her hands still shook. I suspected it was a tick from the time she had spent imprisoned and that it would not be disappearing any time soon.


    ¡°My name is Allain,¡± the man replied in a firm voice. I had to look up to meet his brown eyes.


    ¡°This was not the kind of place I would have expected to meet and discuss this.¡±


    She remained silent for a moment. All four of us sat down.


    ¡°I remain weary after the time I spent trapped within Quentin¡¯s cage. It was within my means to feign strength that I do not have. I decided to show wisdom instead. Only fools strive to pass a veil over the eyes of those chosen by the Gods Above in an effort to obscure the truth. This place serves to cast the shadow of my thoughts back to fairer times.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to heal you?¡±


    There was no reason for me to be petty. While I didn¡¯t know what scheming she might have done before I arrived¡­ As far as I could tell, she had done her best to organize the disaster management ever since. Even if I suspected it was only out of fear. I wasn¡¯t prepared to leave someone to suffer. It would be needlessly cruel.


    ¡°I would appreciate having my maladies tended to, provided it is no more effort than the turning of a page for you.¡±


    It was only a few heartbeats before her skin returned to a more healthy colouring. As I expected, her shakes still remained.


    ¡°Let¡¯s take our time and resolve this.¡±


    Allain cleared his throat and picked up the documents from beside him, then squinted at them. ¡°The first point of contention to be raised by the temporary council representing the interests of the peasants as elected by the Aspirant on the date of¡­¡±


    All three of us sat quietly and listened to what Allain had to say. There were many requests. Princess Clotilde was able to accept some of them right away. Most of those were in the forms of payments, restitutions and promises to fund the reconstruction of outlying farms and hamlets that had been pillaged during the civil war. They were small mercies that would help people survive in the short term.


    Unfortunately, they would do little to prevent history from repeating itself.


    Then there were the requests that could not immediately be granted and would require further investigation. Allain was unhappy, but mollified by Princess Clotilde¡¯s response. Those were requests for specific nobles to be punished, along with details of their alleged crimes. I imagined that they would take a long time to be given their due consideration, but investigation would be done.


    The last group of demands were the ones that needed to be rejected. Almost every amendment relating to peasant conscription had to be turned down. I was surprised that any changes could be made to the laws regarding conscription without a vote in the Highest Assembly. Regardless of that, I unfortunately agreed with Princess Clotilde¡¯s decision not to change them. I had spent enough time looking over Cordelia¡¯s notes to understand that the right of conscription remained necessary so long as the threats to the north remained. There could be some smaller changes, but the underlying reason remained one of survival.


    Allain looked mutinous as Princess Clotilde finished turning down his final demand.


    ¡°Wait a moment,¡± I raised my hand. ¡°You might not have got what you set out for but¡­ That doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t negotiate for something else.¡±


    ¡°Would you then barter for restitution in our stead?¡±


    ¡°I would.¡±


    ¡°I cannot speak for everyone else but provided we all find your suggestions acceptable then your proposal is agreeable.¡±


    I turned towards Princess Clotilde. ¡°You have some idea of what I can do. I¡¯m going to provide you with a list of concessions. We can find try to come to an agreement once you have given them some thought.¡±


    ¡°Should your suggested terms prove to be both well reasoned and acceptable by all involved participants in this affair, then they may be taken into consideration.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to talk about justice to start with. You have the right to dispense justice. You are also able to determine the punishments for that should be meted out. Many punishments are excessively cruel and inhumane. There is no reason to do something like boil someone alive in oil.¡±


    I paused to gather my thoughts.


    ¡°Any crime which earns capital punishment and does not require a vote in the Highest Assembly to modify its sentence is to have the method of punishment reviewed,¡± I stated. ¡°Choose a method that is quick and merciful for all of them. Something like a painless poison. You don¡¯t need to have creative punishments for more excessive crimes if the person guilty will still end up dead. The same is true for cruel punishments for people that don¡¯t resort in death. Any sentences that amount to torture should either be revised to death or some form of imprisonment. There isn¡¯t a good reason to torture anyone.¡±


    There was more I wanted. Ideally, I¡¯d like to reform the system itself. Introduce a jury system to attempt to ensure that judgements were handed out more fairly. In theory, Salienta¡¯s Graces were a much more primitive version of human rights on Earth Bet. In practice, a Royal Magistrate could overturn them in any Principality. I wanted that to change.


    While the Princes and Princesses were very leery of ever actually doing so ¨C interfering with them substantially would see a situation similar to Aisne occur elsewhere ¨C it did happen from time to time. Those were abuses I wanted to see checked. A jury could help with that. It wasn¡¯t a perfect solution, but I considered it better than the existing one. Implementing a jury system would unfortunately involve a vote at the Highest Assembly. I would be attempting to change the underlying structure of the justice system. It wasn¡¯t something that would happen any time soon.


    I also wanted to change Salienta¡¯s Graces themselves. Make them more comprehensive. More benevolent. It was good that the Principate enshrined the rights of its citizens and in theory made its Princes and peasants equal. That didn¡¯t mean those rights couldn¡¯t be stronger.


    Both fortunately ¨C it was good that it was not easy to change them ¨C and unfortunately, I was a long way away from being able to reform that part of Procer at all. It wouldn¡¯t just take convincing the people in power to vote my way in the Highest Assembly. Salienta¡¯s Graces were a part of the story that made up the Principate. The culture of the Principate would need to shift before people would be willing to accept modifications to them.


    ¡°Is this the full breadth of what you wish to negotiate for?¡± she asked, her voice remaining measured.


    ¡°No.¡± I gestured towards Songbird. She picked up the documents we had brought with and handed them to Princess Clotilde. ¡°Here is a copy of a list of reforms Cordelia Hasenbach drafted for Rhenia. Rhenia is a much poorer Principality than Aisne. Once this disaster is mitigated, I¡¯d like you to draft and implement something similar. There are differences between Aisne and Rhenia. They would need to be accounted for.¡±


    Princess Clotilde looked at the documents briefly before turning back to us, ¡°It will take me much time to properly assess this proposal.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    The four of us sat in awkward silence for what must have been over a bell of contemplation before Princess Clotilde looked up once more. The late morning sun had risen, passed its zenith and just began to dip. It now glared harshly in my eyes. Servants brought us refreshments and left in the interim.


    ¡°The breadth of the proposed reforms stretches from one horizon to the other.¡± Princess Clotilde set the papers down beside her. ¡°The revelation that they would not be beyond our means, provided Aisne had not recently weathered a storm, comes to me like a bolt of lightning out of a cerulean sky. It is to our misfortune that the shadow of evil hangs over this place like a fell omen. Many turns of the hourglass will pass before reforms of this nature can be given their due.¡±


    I didn¡¯t expect that project to truly to be undertaken until well after I had left. She could try to play me for the fool but¡­ I doubted she would risk it. She would be risking her very tenuous position by doing so.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°I can help.¡±


    She paused and hesitated for a moment, then gestured for a servant to bring me another document.


    Puzzled, I looked it over.


    It was a long list of figures. I couldn¡¯t immediately make out what they referred to. Eventually, I started to decipher the text. It looked like projected losses due to the expectation of previously desirable land becoming undesirable.


    ¡°What is this about?¡± I asked.


    ¡°This is a tally of the estimated losses due to the ongoing presence of your display,¡± she paused as her shakes exacerbated for a moment. ¡°Far be it for one such as myself to question one of heaven¡¯s chosen but¡­ It would be in the best interest of the people of the principality were the vision to be dispersed.¡±


    I realized then what she was talking about. My illusion. Rather predictably, people did not want to live next to it. The scene was macabre and had been constructed in the heat of the moment. I was quickly coming to regret having put it there at all.


    ¡°You want me to remove it?¡±


    ¡°If the matter of its removal does not offend your sensibilities, it would be the smallest of boons.¡±


    I thought about it. Removing the illusion would weaken the story. I was almost certain of that. But¡­ I had been wrong to put it there in the first place. That was something I knew for sure. It was a vision of me issuing declarations over a scene so dark that people shouldn¡¯t have to bear witness to it. There were other ways to make my point. I should have done something different.


    It wasn¡¯t a good feeling, admitting I had made a mistake. Removing the illusion after such a short time would be embarrassing. I was sure bards would write mocking stories about it. That didn¡¯t mean I would shy away from it. I had made a promise to both Max and myself that I wouldn¡¯t stop trying to be a better person. Dismissing the illusion was probably the right thing to do, and it wouldn¡¯t be hard for me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± I confirmed, ¡°but I¡¯m not giving you your palace back. In exchange, you are going to build a school where it once stood. A school that can be attended by anyone. Those who cannot pay the price in thrones can pay the price through alternate means. Either by instituting a similar system to Praes involving a term of service, or some other form of repayment.¡±


    ¡°While the furrow of your thoughts is laudable, many among the nobility will nip at your heels without a palace to call their own. Many of those born to the House of Groseiller will take umbrage at this slight.¡±


    ¡°Let them,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯m not negotiating on this if they want that illusion gone. A palace would usually be a symbol of national or cultural pride, or as an administration centre. I don¡¯t think Aisne has much to be proud of now. There are plenty of other buildings the city can be ruled from. They want to build a palace? That¡¯s fine. They can do it somewhere else. That piece of land was the site of a tragedy, and it¡¯s being used for something fitting instead.¡±


    ¡°Many moons will pass before work on such a project could begin,¡± she warned.


    ¡°I can accept that. Is there anything else you want?¡±


    ¡°The revolution has created a dearth of those with the requisite skills to coordinate Aisne.¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t much I can do about that.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t as if I could create skilled workers out of thin air.


    ¡°If that is all you wish to bargain for, then we should draw the curtains of this discussion to a close and negotiate terms. What services are you willing to provide in order to even the scales?¡±


    ¡°One week,¡± I began. ¡°During that time I will remain in Aisne. I will transmute whatever goods are needed for reconstruction. I will help with the rebuilding of the city and heal everyone I can. You will agree to my requests in exchange. I am not prepared to help you fight in the civil war or with any other political conflicts. I am only willing to help you stabilize the principality.¡±


    ¡°Would you care to divulge the canvas of your thoughts on the matter of¡­¡±


    Negotiations started in earnest. Songbird stepped in and became more involved. Allain appeared to lose track of the conversation almost immediately. I pitied the poor man. We eventually settled on terms that both parties were willing to agree on.


    ¡°Is this fine with you?¡± I turned to Allain.


    The stipulations made by Allain and I had remained largely unchanged throughout negotiations. It was only the exact details of what Princess Clotilde extracted from me that was bartered over. I ended up agreeing to spend three weeks in Aisne performing tasks that I had already intended to do.


    It should have felt like a victory. It didn¡¯t.


    ¡°While I find these terms acceptable, it remains to be seen whether the others find them amenable as well.¡± Allain informed us.


    ¡°That¡¯s the best I can ask for.¡±


    We talked for a little while longer before eventually the three of us were dismissed. Allain went downstairs and took the modified agreement to the other representatives. They quibbled over it for some time. They wanted some terms to be reviewed further. To my relief, it was nothing I needed to be involved with. I was expecting them to be unhappy. So long as they understood the reasoning behind why some of their requests were rejected¡­ I was willing to live with the outcome.


    ¡°M¡¯surprised you¡¯re not happy.¡± Songbird took up conversation on the way out of the estate.


    ¡°Why should I be?¡±


    ¡°You won. The revolution is over. You even got the Princess to accept your demands.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a win,¡± I replied tiredly. ¡°Think of how many people died. A win would have prevented this. Achieving better ends with different means. I consider this a loss. It might not have been catastrophic, but that doesn¡¯t mean it isn¡¯t a loss.¡±


    It felt like I had taken a step back, as if I was regressing. That was far worse to me than anything else. I had resorted to threats to achieve a temporary truce. I counted it as a loss. It didn¡¯t matter if I had managed to successfully negotiate afterwards.


    ¡°Taylor, you aim too high,¡± Songbird admonished.


    ¡°Maybe. Someone has to. If everyone is aiming for the ground, then we¡¯ll never reach the clouds.¡±


    ¡°Why d¡¯you want to be up there? Ground¡¯s nice. Y¡¯can walk on it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not just a loss in Aisne. Think about the other Principalities. They weren¡¯t just importing food because they liked the colour of Aisne¡¯s grain. Princess Clotilde needed to cut back a lot on exports. There will probably be shortages elsewhere. I don¡¯t know enough about the Principate to say how bad this is, but¡­ there is no way this counts as a win.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose it tracks that a hero wants to be up there.¡±


    ¡°I have a question about Yvette. What happened two days ago? Why did she need to kill people?¡±


    ¡°There were too many guards around the Hall of Records when we arrived. I asked her to make a distraction. She got distracted. Knowing her, she prob¡¯ly spotted a cat. The spell went wrong. Some guards went to investigate. The rest stayed behind. I wasn¡¯t sure how to sneak past. I asked her to help again. She didn¡¯t know how to incapacitate people. She improvised. Her idea killed them.¡±


    Songbird was obviously not a responsible caretaker.


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t suggest alternatives? There was nothing stopping you from making another distraction. If that didn¡¯t work, you could have just threatened them. It¡¯s not ideal, but if they were staring down a sorcerer, there is no way they wouldn¡¯t back down. You also could have just retreated. I tried to retreat when it looked like I was dealing with something I wasn¡¯t suited for, and I¡¯m much better equipped than Yvette. Most of the problems would have been avoided if we had all been together.¡±


    ¡°If we hadn¡¯t been there, then Praesi instigators would¡¯ve killed Princess Clotilde. Y¡¯can¡¯t keep aiming for perfect answers. Eventually, someone¡¯ll make a mistake.¡±


    ¡°Making a mistake because you missed something and just being careless aren¡¯t the same thing,¡± I disagreed. ¡°This was avoidable. You¡¯re too reckless. Both with your own life and with the lives of others. You¡¯re going to die at some point if you don¡¯t change the way you behave.¡±


    Songbird looked like she was about to make a quip, I raised a hand and forestalled her.


    ¡°I know nobody lives forever. This isn¡¯t about that. What you are doing isn¡¯t acceptable to me at all. If you want to keep travelling with me, then you need to accept that and make an effort to do better. I like you Songbird. I even consider you a friend. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m willing to just overlook your faults. I don¡¯t expect you to be perfect. Nobody is. I expect you to try to be someone I would approve of even when I¡¯m not around. What you do reflects on me. I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re doing anything behind my back. You can¡¯t hide the truth forever, even if you are. Eventually, secrets come out.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose you-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t respond to this immediately.¡± I cut her off. ¡°Think about what I said for a while first. I want to know that you have considered my words when you eventually reply. But don¡¯t think this means that you can leave it off forever. I am expecting a reply.¡±


    As requested, Songbird said nothing in response.


    I didn¡¯t think I would be trusting her to take care of Yvette again any time soon.


    We made our way over to the plaza. I looked past the stairs and observed my mistake. I studied it for a few heartbeats. The threads of a story pulled strongly at me from up close. I expected they would weaken or fade away if I broke the illusion.


    Nothing for it.


    I needed to decide what to do with the illusion before I broke it. It was still a large amount of material and I would be turning it into something else. How about something more fitting?


    Now that I was no longer in a crisis, I had time to think. I started to toss ideas back and forth within my head. A memorial for the lives lost was an easy choice. A safe choice. What else could I aim for? The land itself would be used for a school. Princess Clotilde had agreed to that. What did I want every student who passed through it to look at?


    No, that was the wrong way to think about this. The victims of this tragedy would build their own memorial. They would choose to handle this in whatever way they could. It wasn¡¯t up to me to decide for them. I may have helped to bring the conflict to an end, but I had never truly been a part of it. I had been an outsider sticking my nose in.


    Eventually, I made up my mind.


    One of my phantoms vanished from behind me. The illusion disappeared with the ghost. An impossibly dense white stone rectangular block appeared. It was positioned on the right-hand side at the top of the stairs and was nestled against the ruined face of the palace wall. The block stood at waist height and was as long as I was tall. It was almost entirely undecorated. There was a single exception. Three phrases scribed neatly into the top face as if by my hand.


    Everyone falls. Staying down is a choice. Some choose to stand back up.


    The writing wasn¡¯t perfect. I hadn¡¯t wanted it to be. Part of the message would be lost if it were flawless. We all make mistakes. I certainly made plenty. None of us are perfect. We only become better people if we take the time to reflect, consider our actions, and then admit that we were wrong.


    One day somebody may try to move, break or deface the block. They would find it harder than they might expect.


    To my surprise, the threads of a story tightened around me. It was almost immediate. I stiffened when I realized what had happened. Rather than weakening, the strength of the story I was within had intensified.


    <hr>


    Time passed quickly. There was much work to be done. Healing, reconstruction and material substitutes were the easy requests. Songbird assisted with delegation. Gradually, my list of duties expanded to more complex civil problems. Roadworks, aqueducts, and defences for outlying farms.


    Learning to mend specific buildings took time. I didn¡¯t bother with anything non-essential. The nobles could employ people to fix their own houses. The money they spent paying people for repairs could be the smallest of restitutions for the issues they caused. If they hadn¡¯t schemed, then the situation would not have gone so far.


    Princess Clotilde had started sending out inquiries looking for experts who could fill missing advisory positions. The requests had to be sent to other Principalities, and it was unlikely I would still be around by the time she received a response. There was nothing I could really do to help with that.


    It took a while before I warmed up to her. Songbird was right. She was one of the few members of the nobility who appeared to actually care, and she definitely held to the faith. I doubted that she would go back on her agreement. I did eventually apologize for how unfairly I had treated her. She was doing her best with the tools she had to put the Principality right. I did not envy her for her position.


    It was when I was asked to help arbitrate disputes that I struggled the most. I may not have been a magistrate within the Principate, but I was certainly being treated like one. Small fights kept breaking out. They were not organized and were much less destructive, but simply declaring the revolution was over unsurprisingly did not make it true. I kept having to very politely send people away. It was entirely my fault. The issue would not be plaguing me if I hadn¡¯t asserted authority over the nobility. It left me feeling drained at the end of each day.


    It became a habit of mine to visit the House of Light at the dawn of each day. I received stares at first. That didn¡¯t last long once people became accustomed to my presence. Fortunately, I was not asked to speak again. The place was like a refuge to me. It was the closest I could come to being around people who shared my perspective. That didn¡¯t mean that I valued my friends less. I still missed Roland and was coming to care for Songbird and Yvette. It was just that¡­ It was nice to talk to people who shared even a vaguely similar outlook to me.


    Songbird had her people scour the Hall of Records and dig up every historical record on the crusades that she could. Yvette helped to summarize those for me. Piecing together an accurate picture of what defined the crusades kept me occupied during the evenings. I spent a long time thinking before I eventually made up my mind.


    I was not prepared to support a crusade.


    Cordelia was probably one of the most skilled politicians alive. I still thought that calling for a crusade would be a mistake. The crusade was a story. A story of driving back the very darkest of evils. The current Praes was certainly evil. I doubted it was evil enough. Good would need to feel the rancid breath of darkness tickle down the back of its neck before a crusade would end in anything except tragedy.


    Worse, a crusade was an implicit allowance for both sides to escalate. To exercise powers far beyond what was usually brought to bear.


    The First Crusade was fought to unseat Dread Empress Triumphant. The Second Crusade was waged to prevent Praes from overthrowing the Crusader Kingdoms. Those were the only two truly successful crusades that had been fought. The rest had all been varying degrees of failures. The records of the atrocities that had been let loose spoke for themselves.


    Demons and devils unleashed. Angels summoned into Creation. Everyone from one side of the continent to the other would suffer if a crusade was called. Disasters like Liesse would become commonplace. A crusade wasn¡¯t something anyone should call for if they had any other choice.


    It wasn¡¯t an answer to problems. It was a plea to the Gods Above for deliverance.


    I would need to put together an argument to convince Cordelia. I knew by now that emotion would not sway her. An appeal to what was moral was also unlikely to succeed. My reasoning would need to be based on logic alone and grounded in the context of Calernia. I was not certain why she wanted to start one. I spent a long time speculating on the subject.


    Cordelia¡¯s motive could be revenge. I doubted it. I also didn¡¯t think it was out of a sense of righteousness. It was when I stumbled on references to Proceran laws relating to crusades that I found what I suspected might be my first lead. The First Prince did not normally have the right to commandeer the armies of other Principalities. The expectation existed that other Princes cede some level of control to the First Prince during the time of a crusade.


    There were many exceptions to laws that only applied during a crusade. Exceptions that would make it substantially easier for her to solidify her hold over Procer. I suspected that was where her true motives lay.


    Using a crusade for political leverage would be a costly mistake for her to make.


    I paid scribes to copy as many texts as I could. Even if I was unable to persuade Cordelia with words, I hoped that a sufficient body of historical evidence would convince her to see my way. This was not an argument that I was prepared to lose.


    I had wanted to spend more time talking with Yvette. There was just never enough time to go around. There was simply too much that needed to be done. I had gradually allowed her to start practising magic again after adding a much more comprehensive set of restrictions to what I didn¡¯t want her trying to do.


    I never would have thought I would be telling children that vacuums are off limits five years ago.


    Three weeks passed in a blink of an eye, and soon we were ready to depart. Aisne was in a better shape, but I still wouldn¡¯t call it good. I had done what I could, but the city was undeniably still limping its way towards recovery.


    Songbird pranced ahead and seized Maude in a hug as we were making our way down. There was plenty of complaining to be heard. I moved to open the door. To my surprise, there was someone waiting for me on the other side.


    It was the Priestess from the House of Light. Yesterday I had told her that it would be my final visit. I hadn¡¯t expected her to show up. She had a youth beside her. A boy who looked no older than ten. He kept shifting from foot to foot and playing with a bundle under his right arm.


    ¡°Those of us among the faith valued the many hours you spent among us¡­¡± she paused. ¡°We felt that it was fitting for us to return one gift with another. This is a small token of our appreciation that we commissioned in preparation for your departure.¡±


    I was about to tell her it wasn¡¯t necessary when I realized how nervous the boy was. This was obviously important to him. I chose to hold my tongue instead.


    She gestured towards the boy. He pulled the bundle out from beneath his arms and handed it to me.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he sniffed. ¡°You healed my burns on the bad day.¡±


    I felt a lump at the back of my throat. I reached forward carefully and accepted the bundle. It was an item of clothing. I opened it out. Something warm and wet slid down the side of my face.


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t prevent a bloodbath,¡± I whispered, tracing my hand over the third symbol on the item.


    ¡°The life of a fire is not measured solely by the moment it burns brightest. Even the dying embers still bring warmth on a cold winter night.¡± The priestess smiled as she spoke.


    ¡°This¡­ this means a lot to me.¡±


    ¡°You are a chosen sister of the faith. It is nothing more than an acknowledgement of a place you may already call home,¡± I heard the voice of the priestess distantly. I wasn¡¯t paying attention to it. My focus was fully absorbed on the gift.


    ¡°Wait for me,¡± I told them all abruptly.


    Turning around, I sprinted back into the building. Maude squawked as I made my way past her back into the room that I had just left. I rapidly changed the outfit that I wore. The gift was a newly sown austere white robe. The material was scratchy, and it didn¡¯t quite fit me perfectly. It was a bit too large and hung a little loose.


    I didn¡¯t care.


    My badge had been sewn over the heart. There were three other symbols which had been sewn onto the right-hand side. A swan with the sun over it, a rainbow-coloured kingfisher and an ear of wheat that was aflame.


    I pulled impulsively on my abilities. I focused on the idea of impenetrability, resilience, the ability to withstand any blow. Two looming spectres vanished from behind me. The effect took.


    I did not usually bother to enhance clothing. That was because I had to make it a part of me to do so. Anything that could contain me could contain it as well. Most clothes were easily replaceable and so it wasn¡¯t worth my time. I would make an exception for this. This was mine and it was precious to me.


    I did not want it to break.


    Receiving it had sparked the smallest of embers within me. A yearning. It was a memory of an echo of a dream thought lost so very long ago. A part of me that wanted to belong. I didn¡¯t have faith. Not yet, at least.


    But the smallest of fires had been ignited and slowly started to burn away at my distrust.


    Flames that had yet to be snuffed out.

 Liminal 3.12

    ¡°Holding to virtue nine choices out of ten does not make the tenth any less of a sin.¡±


    ¨C Tariq Isbili of the Dominion of Levant


    <hr>


    I laid my palm against the oaken door handle and pushed. The door slowly creaked open, and I was greeted by a somewhat familiar scene as I made my way inside. There were three people seated around a table. Klaus Papenheim and Cordelia Hasenbach I recognized easily. Klaus stood hunched over a heavily annotated map of the Principate set atop the desk on the far right-hand side. His grizzled face turned towards me as I entered.


    ¡°Evening girl,¡± he greeted me roughly, then turned his attention back to the pages below.


    Lange had fallen a week ago. Prince Dagobert was dead. I suspected that Cordelia was in the process of consolidating her forces before she prepared to march once more.


    ¡°Good evening,¡± I greeted all three of them.


    Cordelia was seated on the far left of the table and was carefully nursing a cup of tea beside the fireplace. Books were stacked neatly before her. It looked as if she was taking a break from whatever it was she had been working on. She looked up as I spoke.


    ¡°I must congratulate you for your surgical handling of the revolution in Aisne. I was not expecting you to have such a ruthless temperament.¡±


    Her gaze lingered judgementally on what I wore for more than a few heartbeats. I pushed down the sense of self consciousness. It didn¡¯t matter if they weren¡¯t proper court dress. They meant something to me.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I asked. Her declaration confused me.


    ¡°After discovering that Princess Clotilde was kept away under lock and key, you accepted the invitation of all three feuding members of the nobility, and then leaked the locations of the venues and the travel routes to the revolution. It was then that your attach¨¦ rescued Princess Clotilde. Once she arrived at the scene of rebellion, you successfully sold the appearance of scolding her to the angry mob. It was a much defter manipulation of the crowd than I had expected.¡± She examined my face as she spoke, then her eyebrows rose. ¡°It appears that you were not aware of this scheme.¡±


    So that was what Songbird had done.


    The pieces of the puzzle slotted together. Songbird had known Princess Clotilde was in the Hall of Records. She had known for some time. Instead of trusting me to handle the situation, she had manipulated everything I had known to achieve her own ends.


    Cold. I felt cold. I had known she was lying to me about a lot, but I had not expected it to be about things that mattered. It was a failure on my part to not consider she would lie about something as significant as this. Everything that happened in Aisne after our arrival had been orchestrated by her. I had trusted her, considered her a friend, and she had violated my trust. It felt like a betrayal. Acid burned at the back of my throat.


    No, put this aside, you can deal with it the moment you¡¯re done here.


    I breathed in and out, taking a moment to centre myself.


    There was an empty chair beside the final figure. A silent young girl wearing a blue dress and skin as pale as porcelain. She turned my way as I strode towards her, the tread of my bare feet dampened by the cool of the stone. It was Agnes Hasenbach. I had seen her before, but always from a distance. This was my first time meeting her in person.


    I slipped the satchel under my arms loose, placed it on the desk with a heavy thunk, then sank down into the cushioned upholstery of the chair.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Ah,¡± she murmured and smiled at me. The expression was pitying. ¡°The lighthouse is vacant. The sparrows don¡¯t like you. Neither do the hawks.¡± An absent look came to her eyes. ¡°Crows roost to the north.¡±


    ¡°Vacant¡­lighthouse?¡± I replied. Her words confused me.


    ¡°You will have to explain this to us,¡± Cordelia interjected.


    ¡°Ah, yes. I forget, sometimes,¡± Agnes blinked in surprise. ¡°The Ratlings march on Rhenia. One of their Horned Lords has awoken.¡± She rested her hand on top of my own. ¡°You need to head north, light the fires. The Empress wins on all paths if you don¡¯t.¡±


    Everyone around the table stiffened and looked at her. The silence was deafening. Agnes¡¯s hand withdrew.


    ¡°We should withdraw,¡± Klaus said immediately, straightening. ¡°Our duty is to the north.¡±


    ¡°No, stay. The lighthouse can protect the north. Doom comes from the east if you go.¡±


    ¡°While your assistance in the upcoming campaign would have proven invaluable, I believe this to be more urgent,¡± Cordelia told me.


    ¡°I hold that this is a mistake,¡± Klaus rumbled. ¡°We should retreat to the north and defend the wall.¡±


    ¡°We cannot afford to allow the civil war in the Principate to continue for much longer,¡± Cordelia disagreed.


    An argument broke out between Klaus and Cordelia. It lasted for a while. Klaus wanted to leave and Cordelia argued they should stay. Eventually it came to a stop. Cordelia had managed to have her way.


    There was no need to ask whether Cordelia trusted the Augur. Not after she had spent over half an hour arguing on the girl¡¯s behalf. That wasn¡¯t the extent of it. Agnes often looked at Cordelia with the kind of fervour that bordered on religious.


    This isn¡¯t Dinah.


    I needed to keep telling myself that this would not end the same way. This wasn¡¯t the end of the world, and Agnes was different from Dinah. She wasn¡¯t entirely put together. Even at only a glance, it was evident that her mind wasn¡¯t completely there. It was almost as if¡­ she was completely lost in a sea of possible futures. Agnes barely existed in the present at all.


    I considered what I knew. My long term goals likely required a reformed Procer. I wanted to remain with Cordelia and ensure that the plans I had put into motion did not fall apart. I couldn¡¯t do that if I travelled north. The only issue was, if I didn¡¯t head north, Cordelia would almost certainly withdraw on her own.


    It would apparently end in doom as well.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go north,¡± I confirmed.


    This wasn¡¯t how I expected this journey to start. I didn¡¯t believe this was a quest to stop the Chain of Hunger. The vision spoke to me in a way that felt more personal.


    ¡°Then let us return our attention to the ongoing war,¡± Klaus declared.


    ¡°But I wanted to talk about something else.¡± I opened the satchel and pulled out the pile of books I brought with me.


    Remember the Bard¡¯s advice.


    If I wanted any hope of convincing Cordelia then I would need to stick to what I was good at. I was not good at politicking. Cordelia was a master at it. That meant I could not afford to engage her on her own terms. I would present my arguments, tell her to investigate further, then leave. I would not allow her a word edgewise. She could continue the argument in her own head. She could debate my own side better than I could.


    ¡°I will see to it that your own correspondence is delivered to your quarters later.¡± Cordelia stated.


    ¡°These are for you,¡± I pushed the books across to her. I was careful not to upset any of her existing paperwork. ¡°My answer is no. A crusade is a mistake. It¡¯s a mistake politically, economically, ethically, and in terms of story.¡± I paused, licking my lips. ¡°I assume you know how the third through ninth crusade went?¡±


    ¡°The third and fourth crusade failed disastrously and brought about the end of all attempts to claim Praes. The Fifth through Eighth Crusades were all waged against the Dead King, and the Seventh Crusade came the closest to defeating him. All crusades fought against the Dead King ended in defeat. I am not intending to wage a war against the Kingdom of the Dead, but rather to wage a war against the Calamities. Furthermore, I do not intend for Procer to stand alone against the oncoming storm. Procer has fought crusades alone before, but every one was a disaster. I will not repeat that mistake.¡±


    ¡°It is still a mistake. You think of a crusade in terms of a traditional war. As if the outcome will be determined in a clash between armies. That isn¡¯t what will happen. It¡¯s only true at the start. I don¡¯t know which of the other Good nations you would be able to convince. On some level, it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    Klaus looked up from his maps once more and turned his gaze my way. I felt his eyes bore into me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a general. Would you mind narrating for me, Klaus?¡± I turned towards him. ¡°How will the crusade progress?¡±


    ¡°It will be many years before we are ready for a war with Praes,¡± he mused thoughtfully. ¡°They have Black and Grem One-Eye on their side. The face of warfare has changed, while the Principate claws itself bloody. If Procer fails to change with it, then an assault on the Empire will only end in defeat. Furthermore, if we were to send a host through the Red Flower Vales too early, they¡¯ll savage it and set the border principalities on fire.¡±


    ¡°Pretend you¡¯ve prepared. You have supply lines set up and armies ready to march. New strategies and tactics have been drafted to fight the Empire. Pick whatever allies you like. What happens next?¡±


    ¡°Ashur attacks by sea. They target-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about naval combat,¡± I admitted. ¡°Stick to the land engagements.¡±


    Not that I know much about land engagements. I felt confident when it came to tactics, but knew that I was bad at strategy. The man who was considered to be one of the foremost strategists on the continent certainly outclassed me in every way. I hoped I could convince them not to start a crusade by having them plan one out. They would both realize that there was nothing to be gained if they looked far enough ahead.


    I also knew I was being unfair here. If I gave Klaus enough time to think, he would find solutions to all the problems I threw up. I needed to lead the conversation in the direction I wanted, without letting him truly shine at what he did. The thought made me feel slimy.


    I need to spend less time around politicians.


    ¡°We don¡¯t ever want to get into a siege with the Praesi, but we¡¯d have no other choice. The first engagements between armies begin when we besiege the old Proceran fortifications in the Vales. The war would also need to be fought on multiple fronts at once.¡±


    ¡°I disagree,¡± I stated. ¡°The first deaths will start long before that. The Vales are narrow and treacherous. Navigating them isn¡¯t easy. It''s easy to strategically place explosives. Your soldiers will die in avalanches or to buried munitions. They won¡¯t encounter enemy soldiers. Praes won¡¯t fight at all. There is no reason to think they wouldn¡¯t plant bombs in the mountainside. It¡¯s easy to drown you in snow.¡±


    I assumed that sharpers and other forms of goblin munitions were a more recent development in Calernia. One that hadn¡¯t been used prolifically until more recently. Klaus would have accounted for them otherwise. There was no way that one of the foremost military strategists on the continent would overlook something like that if explosives had been frequently deployed in the past.


    ¡°Tactics would be prepared to account for Praesi nastiness.¡± Klaus¡¯s lips pressed together in a line. ¡°Priests could sweep for munitions. If all else fails, I could call upon one of the chosen with a Name governed by luck to identify places to avoid during a crusade. Eventually, the crusade¡¯s forces would arrive at the other end of the Vale. That is when the war would start in earnest. The siege would be bloody.¡±


    Make him skip through the details before he becomes entrenched.


    I took a breath before speaking up.


    ¡°This is what I think will happen next. Both sides will trade soldiers at first. I don¡¯t know how those engagements will proceed. I am not a general. What I do know is that at some point, one side or the other will start losing. How will the losing side react?¡±


    ¡°I would answer differently during a conventional war,¡± Klaus warned, ¡°but during a crusade, that is when the Chosen or the Damned will take the field.¡± He positioned a pin carefully on the map below him while he talked. ¡°Whichever side is losing will pull out whatever nastiness they can, and the opposition will reply in kind.¡± It sounded as if he was pulling out teeth as he spoke.


    I suspected he did not like the idea of heroes and villains on the battlefield at all.


    ¡°Right. One side or the other becomes desperate and escalates. Someone like me starts fighting. I could have killed the entire army in the Guiseron swampland. It would have been easier. I didn¡¯t do it because I didn¡¯t and still don¡¯t want anyone to be hurt. Say the Warlock drops a hell on your army. Assume that I kill him in retaliation, but in the process three demons are let loose. Heroes move in to kill them. Some of them are lost. What happens next?¡±


    ¡°The war drags on,¡± Klaus answered gravely. ¡°If enough soldiers remain, then we march on until our foes have been defeated. Otherwise, a retreat will be called.¡±


    ¡°Wrong,¡± I slammed my hand down on the table for emphasis. ¡°A crusade isn¡¯t a normal war. This is when the crusade is going to start. The war has become bloody. Thousands have died. Your men want to pull out. Unfortunately, you can¡¯t because it¡¯s a crusade and neither the heroes nor the church will let you. Look at those records.¡± I indicated towards the books that were now beside Cordelia. ¡°They don¡¯t end with both sides meeting at a peace table. They end when either the crusaders suffer a crippling defeat or their enemy dies.¡±


    ¡°We are no strangers to fighting lost causes,¡± Klaus stated.


    ¡°I desire for the war to be fought mostly in Praes itself,¡± Cordelia interjected. ¡°Should foreign soldiers fight over their fields for too long, there is no telling if the Callowans would turn on the crusaders.¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I turned to face Cordelia this time. ¡°Assume you push the Empire out of Callow early on. The Calamities are alive. They have retreated into Praes. Your forces are broken and battered, but so are the villains. Surely the war can end now that Callow is liberated? No, the war goes on. This isn¡¯t a fight for the Principate. This is the Tenth Crusade against the Dread Empire of Praes. It does not end until Dread Empress Malicia is dead. Say you win the crusade. Now what?¡±


    I smiled grimly and leaned back in my chair.


    ¡°You realized as the war dragged on that your current forces weren¡¯t enough. Peasant levies were raised in order to support the crusade. The economy of Procer was crippled for a generation. Nobody wants you in power any more. They will remove you from the position of First Prince. That¡¯s the good ending. The ending where you win. Now consider that seven out of nine crusades lost.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if this would be enough to convince Cordelia. I was hoping I would not need to say more. Depending on where the conversation went, I would quickly bow out.


    ¡°One day the Tower will have their Legions spill out onto the continent.¡± Cordelia stated ominously. ¡°When this war comes, how would you choose to fight it?¡±


    ¡°Defensively,¡± I shrugged. It was a hard truth, but I held it to be the correct one. ¡°Reinforce your borders. Forge alliances. Prepare in case they attack, but don¡¯t strike the first blow.¡± My leg bounced up and down energetically as I spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t think Praes will attack. The Calamities are smart. The story is on your side from the moment their first soldiers set foot across the borders. If they do, then declare a crusade. But they won¡¯t. They will try to secure their grip on Callow and they will fail. Liesse was the first chink in their armour. The Empire will fall apart to internal squabbling. Then a small group of heroes can make their way across the borders and kill the Calamities in a targeted strike.¡±


    People would need to be ready to step in and lead Callow. I didn¡¯t know how to handle that part. However, once the Empire had already started falling apart, it would only be preventing the conflict from being prolonged.


    ¡°There will be many dispossessed soldiers after the civil war in Procer ends. Men and women who took up the blade only to now have their purpose stripped from them. They will turn to banditry or mercenary work without a war to wage. They would be spread across every Principality. It would be beyond my power to put them to any specific use. My reign will be stable for the first few years, but as time goes by, the other Princes will gradually erode my support base. Eventually I will become a figurehead or be replaced entirely. That is when the internal struggles of the Principate would begin anew and no true progress would have been made. How would you prevent it from falling apart before the horrors to the north come knocking once more?¡±


    So that¡¯s what she wants.


    She wanted to start a crusade so that she could send unemployed soldiers to die somewhere while tying up her political opponents. I reminded myself that she had not gone through with it. The crusade had not been called for, she had merely suggested the idea. The idea of sacrificing tens of thousands of people just to remain in the seat of power nauseated me.


    ¡°Change the system if it doesn¡¯t work. There would be a lower death toll if you assassinated every Prince and set yourself up as a monarch than if you started a crusade. Not that I like the idea of murdering them. Procer would collapse, and it¡¯s still likely better than calling for a crusade.¡± I told her seriously. ¡°You could also abdicate when the time comes. It¡¯s what I think you should do. Don¡¯t just say you believe in the Principate, act like it.¡±


    I paused for a breath. Cordelia looked like she was about to speak, but I forestalled her.


    ¡°Be a dictator or don¡¯t. You can¡¯t remain in power forever and keep the current system. Actually, maybe you can, but you will be destroying the spirit of the thing you are claiming to defend to do it. That¡¯s hypocrisy. What is the Principate? Is it a system of governance, or is it a people united in purpose? There are many ways that you can achieve the latter. Train a successor during your tenure to ensure your plans continue. Nothing stops you from throwing your weight behind someone when your reign comes to an end. Focus on uniting the Principate if that is what matters. Bind the principalities together in a way that makes conflict like this undesirable. Fund construction projects in other Principalities to create a bias in the long term specialization of each Principality. Build an academy for sorcerers in one Principality and a school for officers in another. Try to pass a law that makes it mandatory for all Principalities to send some of their new recruits north for proper blooding. Offer each Principality something so they all have a reason to agree. If you need people to care about what happens in other Principalities, then give them a reason to travel. Make them care.¡± I finished.


    Best to leave now, don¡¯t let her have her say.


    Cordelia would argue me down the moment I let her talk again. I had already said my piece. It was better if I left the room now while I still had the momentum. She could continue both sides of the debate in her own head. She¡¯d even do a better job presenting my side for me. I hoped that I had said enough to sway her to my side.


    ¡°I¡¯m heading north. Read those books. Talk to priests and other heroes. Talk to your advisors. Find out what they all say. Learn what you can, and then decide if a crusade will really get you what you want. I am not supporting one. Good evening.¡± I stood up from the table and nodded at them both.


    I felt Agnes¡¯s hand land on my own once more.


    ¡°You saw them all once,¡± she whispered softly. I doubted anyone else in the room could hear her voice. ¡°Every star in every sky. No star left uncharted.¡±


    I paused. My heart froze.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I ventured.


    ¡°One day you will see them all again.¡±


    <hr>


    I was rattled as I made my way over to the rooms that Yvette, Songbird and I were staying at. Agnes¡¯s words had struck a chord. I knocked, then opened the door to Songbird¡¯s quarters. She wasn¡¯t there. I tried Yvette¡¯s room next. She was asleep.


    I quietly closed the door to her room, then briefly returned to my own. Cordelia had remained true to her word. I briefly skimmed the correspondence relating to Roland. He had allegedly been seen near Aequitan recently.


    Time to deal with Songbird.


    I asked the servants if they knew where Songbird had gone. It took plenty of interrogation before I narrowed her position down. It was almost midnight by the time I had found her. My mood was blacker than the night sky.


    She had betrayed me. Betrayed my trust. It was different from the last time someone had stuck a knife in my back. That didn¡¯t make it hurt any less. I had told her to put her thoughts together and talk to me. She had never followed through. I wasn¡¯t sure what I wanted to do. I¡¯d declared amnesty for everyone else involved in the revolution.


    Was I going to make an exception for her?


    No. But that didn¡¯t mean I would just let this go. She started the collapse in Aisne. We entered a city that was constructed from a house of cards, and she was the one who pulled out the tablecloth from underneath. It wasn¡¯t entirely her fault, but a significant portion of the blame could be put at her feet.


    I would talk to her first and see what she said. Then I would make up my mind.


    I arrived at an extravagant building in the richer quarters of the city. It had large red and purple banners trailing outside, and fumes billowed their way out from between the open windows. Small crowds of people loitered outside the open double doors.


    Even from a distance, the sound of music and raucous laughter could be heard from within. I approached the door and looked inside. I wrinkled my nose as the fragrance of incense, and the fumes of cheap liquor assaulted my sinuses.


    Dim candles lit the interior. It was moody and difficult for me to see. It took a few heartbeats for my eyes to adjust.


    I was met by the sight of what could only be termed an enthusiastic Calernian party. Many of the people had glazed over looks in their eyes. At least half of them were at least partially if not fully undressed. I skimmed over the room quickly. Past throngs of people dancing provocatively. Past those who were frolicking on couches that were spread out across a large recessed floor. I looked towards tables near the opposite side of the establishment. Waiters and waitresses dressed in red uniforms that showed more than just a little skin skilfully navigated the mob, plying the proprietor¡¯s wares to the crowd.


    I spotted Songbird seated at a table near the back of the building with three men and two other women. She was sandwiched between two muscular men, nude from the waist up and holding cards in one hand. Her other hand was below the table. The other five wore even less. All six of them looked to be in high spirits. There was joyous laughter and smiles all around.


    Unfortunately for them, I planned to break this up.


    I marched over to their table, doing my best to avoid the ongoing mess along the way.


    ¡°Songbird,¡± I greeted her. My voice had a hard edge to it. I was angrier than I thought.


    ¡°S¡¯pose I¡¯m in trouble. Sorry friends, but I gotta leave,¡± she said in a breathy voice. Her face was flushed. Songbird reached behind herself, grabbed her jacket and slung it over her shoulders. She didn¡¯t even bother to put her clothes back on. Then she followed behind me.


    ¡°Clothes on,¡± I ordered frostily as we reached the door.


    It was telling that she didn¡¯t bother to raise a quip in response. I took a moment to clean the both of us as we stepped outside.


    ¡°M¡¯guessing you-¡±


    ¡°Follow.¡±


    My hands were balled into fists. It was hard to keep my breathing measured. All my muscles were taut. I was on edge.


    We made our way in silence towards an empty back alley. I turned around and faced her.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked.


    ¡°S¡¯pose we''re talking now? What d¡¯you need to know?¡±


    ¡°I know what you did in Aisne. How you manipulated the revolution. Set up the Nobles to die and put Princess Clotilde in power. You knew I wouldn¡¯t be happy about what you did. Why did you do it anyway?¡±


    ¡°The revolution was always gonna happen,¡± she said seriously. ¡°You¡¯re a bleeding heart. Nothing you could do would¡¯ve stopped it.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you even tell me about Princess Clotilde?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose s¡¯not obvious. I knew you¡¯d¡¯ve liked her. Prob¡¯ly befriended her early on.¡± Songbird tossed her head back dismissively, shaking her loose hair from side to side as she did so. ¡°Then that show you put on wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve happened. You¡¯d¡¯ve tried to talk everyone down. It wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve worked, and the peasants would¡¯ve ignored you. We would still be in Aisne picking up the pieces.¡± She tried to lay a hand on my shoulder. I grabbed it and pulled away.


    ¡°You don¡¯t trust me to make my own choices.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re dangerous. More dangerous than almost anyone. It¡¯s good that you¡¯re trying to be a hero but what happens if you slip? M¡¯better at scheming then you. See how Aisne ended. Y¡¯could-¡±


    ¡°Yes. See how Aisne ended,¡± I interrupted her. ¡°I was almost trapped. The city almost went up in flames. If the Bard didn¡¯t save me, then I would have been done for. You¡¯re good at scheming, but not as good as you think. What would have happened if she wasn¡¯t there?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a good person, Taylor. Prob¡¯ly better than everyone else.¡± She said softly. ¡°But you weren¡¯t always this way. I know you can make hard choices. It¡¯ll hurt, but you can do it. S¡¯why did you change? What terrifying thing did you see that made you want to be a hero?¡±


    ¡°I saw Calernia. I came from a different world. It was kinder in some ways and harsher in others. I used to make those kinds of choices. Rationalize them, tell myself that I was right. Then I arrived here. I saw everyone making them and decided I was wrong.¡±


    ¡°There was no big fight? No hero who scared you?¡± She asked doubtfully.


    ¡°The fight came before. The world I lived in was ending, and I was one of many who helped to stop it. That wasn¡¯t important. That one moment isn¡¯t who I am. It wasn¡¯t why I¡¯m like this now.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯say the world ending wasn¡¯t important?¡±


    ¡°I could define myself by that fight. Where would it get me? Not anywhere good. I¡¯d be the heroine that lived past her story. That¡¯s not a good person to be. So I¡¯m not treating it that way. I¡¯m choosing to treat it as a stepping stone and not the finish line.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯you want to make kinder choices now. S¡¯pose that¡¯s fine, but sometimes hard choices need to be made. Let me make them for you.¡± Songbird pleaded. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about making them yourself.¡±


    I could feel what I suspected was a Name slowly taking shape for the first time. It did not come on its own. With the Name came a story. I could almost taste it. I couldn¡¯t be entirely sure, but I suspected that almost everything she had done was out of some kind of loyalty to me. It wouldn¡¯t have started that way. It had only been a lie she had told herself at first. Gradually, the lie had become the truth.


    The shape of the story was sickeningly alluring. Sweet, like the scent of roses growing in a bed of corpses.


    The band of heroes has a falling out. They don¡¯t talk for a while, and they continue on with their quest. The quest would continue deep into the Chain of Hunger. The journey would be fraught with peril, and eventually we would involve ourselves in a major fight. The battle would draw us together once more, it would mend our relationship.


    I would forgive her and let her have her way in the aftermath. I would avert my eyes and smile, pretending I didn¡¯t see all the wrongs she did so that I didn¡¯t have to. Turn a blind eye to people who disappeared, or paled when she was around. Pretending because it was easier, and I wanted to keep my friend. We would be far closer together afterwards. Almost as tight as sisters. The Aspirant and the¡­


    I reached. What Name would fit Songbird? What Name would I give the woman with many faces but no face of her own? The woman who lied and backstabbed and blackened her own soul so that I didn¡¯t need to.


    It came to me then. She would be my Hollow Mask. A person who only existed to keep my conscience clean.


    It would be so easy as well.


    I could be happy, all I had to do was look away. I could swear an oath to never hurt or kill again if I wanted to. She would always be there to plunge the knife. It was a kind of twisted loyalty. A loyalty that I didn¡¯t want to inspire in anyone but could be so very useful. There was nothing she would refuse to do for me if I gave her my blessing. No lines she wouldn¡¯t cross. She would make whole cities disappear if she thought it would make me sleep better at night. All I would need to do is ignore that little niggling at the back of my mind telling me that I was allowing Evil to walk free because I liked the face it showed me.


    And I would be the biggest hypocrite on Calernia if I did so.


    I tried to reach further. Tried to guess where the story led to. I couldn¡¯t. My speculation ground to a halt.


    And just like that, my anger went out.


    ¡°No,¡± I whispered back.


    I still felt nauseated. The sense of betrayal cut through me like shards of a broken mirror. But it wasn¡¯t a betrayal of me so much as what I stood for. It hurt even more because I suspected that she was loyal to me. Loyal in a way that was deeply unhealthy.


    Songbird flinched. The colour drained out of her face. There was no way the look of shock she bore was anything except genuine.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ going north,¡± I continued slowly, fighting back tears. ¡°Yvie is coming with me. You¡¯re staying behind. I¡¯m going to write a letter to Roland. Find him and give it to him. Think about all of this while I¡¯m gone. I like you, Song. Even after this. It hurts to admit it. I don¡¯t want to turn my back on a friend.¡±


    It was an easy task. Nothing more than a chore. Something that I could have even trusted to a messenger.


    ¡°What¡­ What d¡¯you want me to do?¡± she sounded so lost that it stung. Even though her actions hurt me, I felt my eyes begin to water up.


    It would be so much easier if I didn¡¯t like her at all. This felt like I was turning my back on a friend.


    ¡°Be a better person. It¡¯s hard. I know it is. I didn¡¯t start out this way.¡± I reached up and wiped the tears out of my eyes.


    ¡°Why won¡¯t you let me?¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to hurt myself. I want you as a friend. I can¡¯t call the kind of person who would do what you did in Aisne a friend.¡± I stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. ¡°Do some soul-searching. Is this what you really want? Because I don¡¯t want my friends and family to hurt themselves for my sake.¡±


    I would give her one last chance. If it wasn¡¯t for the fact that apparently everyone else thought she did excellently, I wouldn¡¯t have even given her that much. I didn¡¯t know if it would work, but I hoped that she would pull through. It would hurt me far more if she committed to the path she was already on.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the letter,¡± she told me.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t goodbye.¡± I told her seriously. ¡°It¡¯s a second chance. An opportunity to start over. Figure out if you really want to be my friend. I know it¡¯s unfair to ask people to change but¡­ I¡¯m not prepared to compromise this much. It will be hard, but I promise it¡¯s worth it. It was for me. And if you decide you want to stay¡­ I¡¯ll be there for you every step of the way.¡±


    The two of us walked back to our respective rooms in silence. There was a gap between us, a distance that hadn¡¯t been there before. I didn¡¯t know if she would take me up on my offer, or if she would go her own way.


    Not knowing scared me.


    It hurt that I still wanted to be friends with her after what she had done.


    Was giving her a second chance this way a mistake? Should I have chosen to end her life instead? I wanted to have hope. I wanted to believe she would decide to be a better person. That Songbird wasn¡¯t lying to me even now.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if the face she had shown was merely another mask designed to change my mind.


    All I knew was that the Name that had been forming had been irrevocably broken when I had turned her down.

 Liminal 3.0x

    ¡°Redemption is a journey that starts from within and has no set destination. It is not a prize to be earned.¡±


    ¨C A Stranger¡¯s Guide to Names in Calernia, Author Unknown


    <hr>


    Alaya stayed alone in the council room for a long time, with only silence and thought for company. She watched the sky outside the window as the moon gradually dragged itself from one side of the heavens to the other.


    She was about to head to sleep and ruminate on her troubles when a voice called out from behind her.


    ¡°Allie.¡±


    A moment of silence.


    ¡°Maddie,¡± she turned around and smiled at him as she spoke.


    He was holding a bottle of wine in one hand. He wore a loose white shirt and baggy trousers. His pale green eyes were as sharp as ever. She could almost see the turning of cogs behind them. Approaching, he pulled the cork out of the bottle and passed it to her. He reclined himself in one of the chairs at the table only a few heartbeats later. She sat down beside him and pulled deeply out of the bottle, then wiped the smooth back of her hand against her mouth. There was no need for manners here.


    It was a truly horrid wine that somehow tasted of mud. The two of them had been drinking it for years now. It reminded her of better years. Times when the both of them were more innocent in the ways of the world. She passed the bottle back, and he took a pull of his own.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure why we keep drinking that,¡± he confessed. ¡°It tastes like mud and a future bereft of prospects.¡±


    ¡°Nostalgia,¡± she mused. ¡°I will concede that it tastes worse than any other spirits I have sampled. Certainly worse than anything in Wekesa¡¯s cellar.¡±


    Both of them shared a grin at the thought. Wekesa did not appreciate their efforts to relieve him of his finer vintages. All the Calamities except Sabah made a game of trying to filch his bottles.


    ¡°There is that. He lost another bottle from Kahan to Scribe on a bet. It has him in a foul mood.¡±


    The shared amusement lasted only a moment before both of them sobered once more.


    ¡°Do you bring news from the west?¡±


    Thunder crackled outside. There was always a storm around the tower, raging impotently or preparing to rage.


    ¡°Wekesa made a mess in Liesse,¡± Amadeus finally noted. ¡°The number of heroes we have seen show up this year has increased. Rebellions in Callow will keep cropping up, and it¡¯s only a matter of years until the Principate stops biting at its own tail. After Liesse they will be calling for a crusade. We¡¯re lucky they haven¡¯t called for one already. There would already be calls for blood if more people had died during the fight.¡±


    Amadeus passed the bottle back to her. Alaya drank deeply, then set it down on the table.


    ¡°Procer is being handled for now, although I don¡¯t expect that to last much longer. The moment the Principate is united, the Empire is threatened. Let¡¯s make sure it doesn¡¯t come to that. I¡¯ll promote conflict in Aisne. If a revolt occurs, the Principate might not be able to feed itself. I want you to put your gambit with the rats into play.¡± Alaya paused. ¡°The Truebloods smell blood in the water. We¡¯ve held Callow firm all these years. A moment of vulnerability, and now the knives are coming out.¡±


    One move at a time, for the past five years, Alaya had been emptying Tasia Sehalian¡¯s coffers. She continued to levy fines against Tasia for breaking inconsequential laws. The Wolofites kept paying to break them. Her coffers had gradually dwindled, and soon she would be forced to take on loans. Then one day her coin would run out. Tasia would default on her loans and her own family would rise to remove her. That was when the executioner¡¯s axe would drop.


    After a few more moves were made in the aftermath, the Truebloods would end as a political entity in the Empire as well.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do that,¡± Amadeus agreed. ¡°I¡¯ll visit refuge first. This gambit will appeal to Hye. We will see what we can rustle up in the north.¡± He smiled at her with a smile that always looked like it was at someone else¡¯s expense. ¡°Let the High Lords grumble. Let them rebel, even. The moment they take up arms, they will be crushed underfoot.¡±


    ¡°The idea has always been seductive to me in its simplicity,¡± she admitted. ¡°But as I¡¯ve told you before, it would do more harm than good. The cities of the High Lords would have to be taken, and the cost in lives and resources would ruin Praes for a generation. The aristocracy wouldn¡¯t surrender if the Legions marched to end their reign, even if we were winning. Two millennia of culture and history can¡¯t be washed away with blood. There¡¯s more to ruling than hanging whoever disagrees with you.¡±


    ¡°You have a plan?¡±


    ¡°I plan to offer them a poisoned compromise. The position of Chancellor is not the only one worth fighting over. It was Wekesa who made a mess, and this time he will clean it up. The opportunity to earn the position of his apprentice should serve as a boon.¡±


    The High Lords had never understood exactly what they were dealing with. They kept making the mistake of measuring the Calamities against names long dead. All of their weaknesses had been thoroughly investigated. Many of them would fight amongst each other for the chance to be apprenticed to the Warlock, even if there was nothing to be gained.


    ¡°He won¡¯t agree.¡±


    ¡°It is not in his nature to teach,¡± she agreed. ¡°But I am not asking that of him. Let them follow him around, but what they learn is up to them.¡±


    Amadeus picked up the bottle and finished the last gulp, then set it down once more.


    ¡°Has he given his approval?¡±


    ¡°Four positions have been made available. Three will be fought over by the High Lords and one will be assigned to the legions.¡±


    Amadeus would eventually agree to the idea. Alaya could trust him to act according to his nature. He believed the armies from the west would come, and he would do his best to prepare for them. She loved the man, but his way was insufficient. Alaya was working to prevent those armies from marching east at all. She wished to rule the Empire forever, she did not wish to engage in a doomed conflict with the west. The Empire could not weather a crusade.


    The Legions would fail, and the Calamities would fail. The fight for Callow was not one the Heavens would ever allow them to win.


    Amadeus had been trying for years now to convince Wekesa to open a school for magic. His attempts had never been met with success. It was one of their oldest arguments. If one of the Legion sorcerers was able to learn anything from time spent in Wekesa¡¯s presence, then the Legions might have a teacher after all.


    This was an opportunity the man could not pass up.


    ¡°This is dangerous.¡± Amadeus¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°The Truebloods will have at least one ambitious heir. It also does nothing to placate the people of Callow.¡±


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    He was correct in that. Akua Sahelian was already showing signs of brilliance, even at her young age. Spies in Wolof had begun reporting on Tasia¡¯s schemes for the girl. Unfortunately, it was unlikely that she would fall for this ruse. Tasia Sahelian had Dumisai of Aksum under lock and key, and the man was almost as capable a sorcerer as Wekesa was.


    High Lord Idress had been one of her closest political allies for decades. The wealth of his holdings were of great use in keeping the influence of Tasia Sahelian at bay. While that had yet to change, in the wake of the disaster at Liesse their relationship had cooled. Placing Tasia¡¯s girl under Wekesa¡¯s care would have offered Alaya another lever over the Truebloods in the event their alliance came to an end.


    ¡°Wekesa has agreed to help with the reconstruction of the city of Liesse,¡± Alaya dismissed.


    ¡°It¡¯s not enough. The burning of Liesse made the common people care about who rules them again. The current Governor will have to be killed.¡±


    High Lord Igwe would become more than a minor complication if the death was public. The Callowans would need to be denied a display. Ruling Praes was a careful balance of give and take. Playing different factions off each other and never allowing one to grow too strong.


    ¡°The Truebloods will not be happy. We will have him assassinated discreetly, and then move in another wasteland aristocrat as a replacement when the right opportunity presents itself.¡±


    Alaya could stomach the abolition of the Imperial governorships. Amadeus could even be set up as a regent for Callow, but now was not yet the time. The Truebloods needed to be weakened first. If they pulled power from them now, they were sure to fight back.


    Amadeus started to speak again. ¡°I want to substantially increase the wages for Callowans enlisting in the Legions. Few ever take the opportunity. Have them spend time among Orcs and Goblins, then rotate the newer Legions between their own borders and those closest to the High Lords.¡±


    ¡°That is a dangerous risk. I do not want to have to put down a Callowan rebellion with Legion training many years down the line.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s calculated. It won¡¯t be a problem when they integrate into the Legions. They will prove less inclined to revolt if they are overseeing their own people or facing a common foe. There will still be some uprisings. Many years will pass before the consequences of Liesse have scarred over.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any new plans to deal with the heroine who started this all?¡±


    The Aspirant had made it onto the Red List at Wekesa¡¯s urging. It was a distinction she shared with only Klaus Pappenheim. A demon who had transcended her nature and earned a heroic name was too dangerous to allow free. Unfortunately, her nature made it almost impossible for her to be vanquished or bound. Contingencies had to be prepared. The Eyes were investigating every fragment of information they could acquire on her in order to establish her weaknesses. Little had been learned. They believed she had arrived at what was now known as Constance¡¯s Scar and not much else.


    ¡°I still hold to it that she is not meant to fight us,¡± Amadeus said. ¡°We do not know what her story is, but she would have clashed with us long before Liesse if we were her intended foes.¡±


    ¡°And yet¡­¡±


    ¡°We need to prepare regardless.¡± Amadeus agreed. ¡°Attacking her story remains our only effective recourse. Working to undermine her reputation with other heroes is also a possibility, but it remains one fraught with risk. Containing her would be folly, and diverting her can only succeed so many times.¡± Amadeus leaned on the table and steepled his fingers. ¡°It will take effort from both of us to properly pull this off.¡±


    ¡°It is regrettable that we have come to the current situation,¡± Alaya conceded. ¡°We cannot afford a second instance. Once an opportunity has been found, the Aspirant needs to die.¡±


    Together with the Artist, the Aspirant had thrown the state of Callow into disarray. It was expected that she would resurface eventually and would prove a threat on par with either Levant¡¯s Grey Pilgrim or the Saint of Swords. Demons were naturally capable of ignoring stories. There was no telling what a demon could achieve when sworn to the side of Above.


    ¡°Well, yes,¡± Amadeus agreed.


    <hr>


    It was her twelfth summer when Akua first learned of the fabled twenty-fourth demon.


    The news had been brought to her by one of her family agents. They had been investigating the details surrounding the Warlock¡¯s offer of apprenticeship. It hadn¡¯t taken long for them to determine that participating in the farce would prove detrimental to her education. There was nothing the man was willing to teach that her papa was not capable of in turn. Anything truly worthwhile would be locked away out of sight, and thus this prize was left for those with lesser ambitions than her. However, the investigations had not proven entirely fruitless. The agents had stumbled upon papers containing accidental references hinting at the existence of documentation written on the subject of the heroine who fought the Warlock at Liesse alluding to her existence as a demon.


    Finding out more had been the work of a season.


    Managing to have a copy transcribed had cost her a small fortune and the lives of over two dozen family agents in the Tower, but she¡¯d found the prize worth it. Contrary to popular belief in the Wasteland, the Warlock¡¯s failure in Liesse had not come at the hands of a powerful Named sorcerer. His failure had come at the hands of a demon instead. The assertion that it was a hitherto unknown type of demon had at first been dismissed as the failings of an inadequate sorcerer until copies of his other writings had been acquired. Warlock was a prolific author, and the sheer spectrum of anomalous sorceries the man had been able to categorize swiftly laid that thought to rest. He was certainly one of the most talented sorcerers of his generation and was not to be underestimated.


    Warlock had been forgiven for his failure to capture or contain the thing. Demons were born of Evil, and so Evil could not destroy them. Even the most talented of Praesi sorcerers would be hard-pressed to properly bind a demon, let alone one that had never been observed before. It was for a good reason that Dread Empress Triumphant ¨C may she never return ¨C had been so feared.


    It was then that Akua¡¯s interest was truly piqued, but it wasn¡¯t until the discovery of documents pertaining to the nature of the demonic corruption that discovering more about the heroic demon was deemed a matter of critical import. Warlock asserted that the demon¡¯s taint on Creation was almost imperceptible. It was as if the thing was attempting to mimic the tabula rasa effect with only minor differences. Warlock had speculated after investigating those discrepancies that the demon¡¯s essence could either be classified as narration or verisimilitude. Unfortunately, the exact details of those investigations were left sparse, and only his conclusions were provided. It was impossible to learn more without having the beast on hand to vivisect.


    The existence of this newly discovered demon also posed other, more pressing questions. If the age-old belief that there were only twenty-three demons had proven to be false, then how many other types of demons were there, truly? How had thousands of years passed before the twenty-fourth was discovered? What could a villain achieve by binding never before seen monstrosities to their will? Warlock¡¯s records on this single specimen made it evident that the thing was far more intelligent than others of its kind. It had proven capable of not only hiding itself from discovery for years, but also of earning a name. Even if after investigation it was revealed this was the last type of beast to be found, it still proved to be by far the most versatile demon in existence.


    Akua was determined to be the first to discover how to summon and bind one of its kind.


    Learning more would be a daunting undertaking for most. It would be the work of many years to discover where exactly this new demon came from, but Akua was not one to allow her ambitions to be tempered. Akua¡¯s plans were still in their infancy, and there was much room for them to grow. Vivisecting the anomaly would prove the most expedient method to further the plans she currently had in place.


    What could a villain achieve with a demon specifically designed to manipulate narrative itself? By their very nature, all demons corrupted stories. This would be taking the manipulation of narrative one step further. Could this new type of demon be used to define how stories should end, and in doing so break the hold of Good on victory in Calernia? Could it be used to show the world once more that none were beyond humbling? Praes was a legacy. It represented the last great villains of Calernia. The drow of the Everdark had collapsed into bickering tribes, and the Chain of Hunger was nothing more than a horde of starving rats. The Dead King had not stirred from beyond his borders in centuries. All that was left with the Dread Empire. Villains had become so inured to tragedy that they were allowing their legacy to fade gently away.


    Akua looked up from her desk and turned around. Behind her was another youth only ten summers old bound to an altar. She reviewed the ritual circle behind him a final time before making her way over and plunging the knife into the whimpering victim below. It was essential that she remain methodical throughout the process. Akua did not hesitate as she drew blood. It was a lesson that her mother had instilled in her many years ago. She wiped down the blade and set it gently to one side of the altar. A devil materialized within the circle moments later.


    She began to negotiate with the creature in earnest. The negotiations concluded in the same manner as all prior agreements. Two souls in exchange for questions answered fully and without attempts to obfuscate the truth. Once more, the devil failed to divulge anything in regard to the twenty-fourth demon that she did not already know, and once more the devil was dismissed. Akua made her way back over to her desk and started the process of memorizing her collection of notes. Leaving evidence of her experiments for the perusal of others was an unacceptable risk. Once she had completed the task, she consigned her documents to the flames. It would be years before her many plans neared completion, in many ways this undertaking could be considered the start of her life¡¯s work.


    Capturing a heroine would prove challenging and would be the culmination of many years of work. To bind a heroic demon would be termed madness beyond all but the most successful of Praesi villains. Akua had not decided what it was she wished to strive for yet, but she knew that she was not satisfied to remain squabbling down in the mud. She would be no mere Chancellor or Black Knight. The world would tremble when she rose to power, and none but the bravest and most foolhardy would even dare to whisper her name.

 Ingress 4.00

    ¡°The only person more terrifying than a creative sorcerer is a creative sorcerer who stands among the Chosen or the Damned.¡±


    ¡ª Proceran Saying.


    <hr>


    It had been some days since we had gone past our first major stop on our return up north. The Three Peaks. They were two massive towers leaning against the sides of the southern entrance to the Twilight Pass, with a bastion on the other side. Monstrously tall walls had straddled the space between them. The granite masonry had loomed so tall that it looked as if the mountains were constructed more by man than nature. Seeing them from the south had been no less imposing than the first time I had seen them when arriving from the north.


    I planned to enter the Chain of Hunger from the Rhenian Gates. They were further north, and something told me that they were closer to the destination that my vision was guiding me towards.


    Something was off-putting. For a while now I had felt an uneasy churning sensation within my presence somewhere up ahead. It felt like a ravenous maw, an empty belly that could never be filled. I suspected it was Ratlings. I didn¡¯t know for sure.


    ¡°-And so I was wondering is there anything you can do similar to scrying that I can study because I tried adapting the transcriptions from that book to my own system of sorcery and wasn¡¯t able to make any progress.¡± Yvette spoke from in front of me.


    ¡°Nothing that wouldn¡¯t knock me out for a few days. Sorry Yvie.¡± I replied.


    We had left the sorcerous books with Cordelia before departing. One of her wizards with a more scholarly inclination had taken to examining them. They had found an explanation on how to scry. Unfortunately, it was entrenched within the Trismegistan school of sorcery. The principles would have to be adapted to another methodology before we could properly utilize them.


    With nothing better to do on the road, I had brute forced learning to transfigure the most basic of edible foods with Innovate. Biscuits, some fruits, and bread. I didn¡¯t know how deep into the Chain of Hunger we would have to travel. I did know that there was almost nothing to eat there.


    There was not a single part of me that wanted to dine on Ratling.


    ¡°This is unreasonably hard I¡¯m sure it should be easier than this I¡¯ve adapted different workings that were simpler than this and didn¡¯t have an issue why is scrying fighting with me?¡±


    The steady reverberation of Sisyphus¡¯s hooves continued unabated on the treacherous ground underfoot. We were deep in the Twilight Pass. I¡¯d guess maybe halfway in. Mountains loomed all around us. The air was damp, cloying. Late summer rains had ended only an hour past, and a strong early morning wind blew from up ahead down our way. It sounded like an angry choir of dead souls.


    The desolate, rugged countryside around us made for grim scenery. Stelae of granite carved straight from stone lined the side of the path we followed. Most of them had large iron pegs hammered through them. I did not understand the significance of it.


    ¡°That¡¯s just how it is sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Well it''s annoying just like trying to change the world from one shape to another you make it look so easy and all I get is nightmare landscapes and a headache for trying if it wasn¡¯t so important I¡¯d just leave it alone I¡¯d rather work on something else.¡± I couldn¡¯t see her face, but I suspected she was pouting.


    ¡°Hands on the reins,¡± I instructed firmly.


    Yvette¡¯s damp blonde hair bobbed directly in front of me as she enthusiastically looked from one side of the path to the other. Occasionally, strands of hair would come dangerously close to ending up in my mouth. She pointed at features in the landscape absent-mindedly while she spoke. I doubted she even realized she did it.


    It made it hard for me to keep track of what was up ahead.


    Learning to ride side-saddle with a kid in front of me had been the kind of challenge I did not expect to have. Learning to ride side-saddle with this excitable bundle of energy was even more work than that.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she huffed, lowering her hands back on top of my own. ¡°See those crows up there why are they flying today''s so dreary I miss Song it feels like we¡¯re missing someone without her oh look can you hear that there is some loud noise up ahead?¡±


    There was. Repeated rumbles and cracks. It sounded almost like I imagined an avalanche would if it was heard from a distance. I wasn¡¯t certain what was the cause.


    It had me on edge.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I miss her too.¡±


    Yvette complained about Songbird¡¯s absence frequently. I missed her as well. It was as if our small group missed some of the energy it had before. Thinking about her hurt. I hoped that she didn¡¯t dismiss my offer.


    We lapsed into silence as we rounded a bend and caught our first glimpse of the crenelations topping the walls of the Volsaga Fortress. The structure was built on a narrow land bridge between two cliffs. It loomed up above us. It would be a while before we had climbed high enough to see it properly. The fortress was one of the more well travelled routes deeper into the Twilight Pass on the route to Rhenia. That wasn¡¯t surprising. While there were many trails that led through the path, there were some places that were almost unavoidable, and it was one of them.


    That it was a natural choke point that made the location easy to defend just made it all the more convenient to the Lycaonese.


    I stiffened. One of the towers was sending a warning signal.


    ¡°Trouble ahead,¡± I warned, then signalled for our horse to speed up. It accelerated to a brisk trot.


    The tremors grew louder from above.


    We continued our ascent. Both of us were now fully alert.


    It took a while, but we drew close. The sounds grew more and more concerning as we approached. I guided our mount around a corner. Rubble to our left gave way to an open view, and I couldn¡¯t believe what we saw on the other side.


    I brought our mount to an abrupt halt.


    Yvette had gone stiff in front of me. Then she slowly started to chant under her breath and reached a hand into her reagent pouch. I was looking over her right shoulder, trying to disbelieve what I could see up ahead. My gaze was locked solely on the display.


    Am I dreaming?


    I blinked, lifted my hands from the reins, rubbed my eyes and gawked.


    What I was seeing had remained the same.


    We were about a hundred feet short of a fork in the road, coming down the left side of one of the prongs. Large rocks to our right blocked our vision. We were unable to properly see the contents of the other path. That was not what had me lost for words.


    There were over a dozen giant, snarling, furry bipedal creatures applying brute force to the walls on our side of the fortress far ahead. Their limbs were as large as tree trunks and swung ponderously from side to side as they continued to maul the defences. The barrier looked like it was teetering on the edge of collapse. Chunks of masonry had been torn out, and parts of the wall creaked ominously. It sounded as if it was about to fall into the crevasse.


    Each of the creatures stood about twenty feet tall and made significant dents in the rock when they struck out against the side of the fortress walls. Bolts pierced their sides. I doubted that even a single one of them wasn¡¯t injured. Ratlings. They were definitely Ratlings, and judging from the size of them, I¡¯d guess that they were Ancient Ones.


    Hordes of much smaller rats swarmed behind them.


    Yvette¡¯s fingers blurred, rapidly tracing delicate symbols in silver into the surrounding air. It was the hardest I had ever seen her concentrate. She was chanting under her breath and clutched a vial of my blood tightly in her left hand.


    Did I need to worry about her killing here?


    ¡­ No, I decided. There was nobody from one side of Calernia to the other except me who would even give this a second thought. Nobody would bother their conscience over seeing every Ratling dead. I didn¡¯t think I could remove their compulsion to eat. Triumphant hadn¡¯t been able to solve this problem with demons. It was unlikely that I could. That wouldn¡¯t stop me from trying.


    ¡°Careful,¡± I admonished absently. So long as she didn¡¯t do something with collateral damage, I wouldn¡¯t raise a fuss.


    Yvette kept working on her spell.


    If this assault was the extent of it, I could have dealt with it. It would have been weird, sure, but I¡¯d seen weirder.


    It wasn¡¯t the extent of it.


    Each of the Ancient Ones had what appeared to be cones woven out of some kind of fabric ¡ª I¡¯d guess flax ¡ª bound around their heads, limiting their field of view. They had harnesses on their backs made out of the same material. Some of the smaller Ratlings were making use of the harnesses to ride the Ancient Ones as mounts. The riders carried weapons in one furry clawed paw. Some carried bows, others carried spears.


    A long, narrow pole extended out in front of each giant rat, and something was dangling from the end. I reached into a pouch and pulled out a telescope, raising it up to my right eye. Adjusting the lenses, I narrowed in the focus to see what it was. Each Ancient One had a distressed baby rat baited in front of it at the end of a rope. The babies were suspended at eye level, just out of the Ancient One¡¯s reach.


    If I had seen it in a picture or painting, I would have thought it was comical. It wasn¡¯t so funny seeing babies dangled as food on the end of a rod for real.


    I clamped down on my nausea.


    Now that I could see more details, it was surprising just how much more there was to take in. One of the Ancient Ones briefly turned its head my way while shrieking as molten tar was poured onto it from above. I tried not to gawk. Its ears had been sewn shut, presumably to mask sounds that its handlers didn¡¯t want it to hear. It turned away before I could see more. I hadn¡¯t had a closer look at its snout, but I would bet on something being done about that as well. The tails of many of the larger rats had been covered with broken metal scales with protruding spikes.


    The Ancient Ones were rather predictably unhappy with all of this, and fought rather ineffectually against both their handlers and their assigned targets. They seemed like they wanted to take a bite out of everyone. Their aspiring commanders were not spared from their gluttony. If there weren¡¯t so many of them, I doubted this would be effective. However, there were plenty, and they were currently trying to breach the Fortress ahead.


    How did they even arrive here?


    I was reasonably certain that this many Ratlings should not have been able to reach this particular part of the Lycaonese defences.


    Projectiles rained down from the fortress. Not just bolts from crossbows, but also burning oil and wizard¡¯s fire. Every now and again, a projectile from one of the ballistas above would smash into one of them and send them staggering back. It surprised me how resilient they were. The smaller Ratlings returned fire. They sent back arrows that were more ineffective than not, smashing against the defensive emplacements above.


    Large, gaping chunks had been torn out of segments of the walls.


    Don¡¯t think too hard about this.


    I spent one of my spectres, and the rubble we had just passed vanished. A shimmering, golden rectangular prism manifested around the Ratlings, boxing them in. I placed the telescope back into the bag, then focused back on my prisoners. I was certain some Ratlings lost their paws to the effect. That didn¡¯t concern me. Keeping people safe did.


    Now I had more time to think.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if there was anything I could do to alleviate the Ratling condition, but it would only take me the briefest of moments to attempt the most basic of experiments. It wouldn¡¯t be anything thorough. It would only be the first idea that had come to mind upon feeling them as we approached. More comprehensive experiments were something I would look into later, in a more controlled environment.


    I would end their lives quickly if my attempts did not work.


    The angels hugged me closely, so close that it was almost suffocating. That, more than anything, warned me that I wouldn¡¯t like what I found.


    I reached out towards one of the smaller Ratlings mentally and pushed against the hunger inside of it. The hunger fought back. Shoving it out wasn¡¯t easy. It was hard, harder than simply attempting to kill the beast would be. The sickness inside of it was not content to leave and clawed against me viciously. I succeeded after a brief struggle against the malicious force within it.


    The Ratling immediately fell over dead.


    Did I make a mistake?


    I frowned.


    I repeated the experiment. This time I was more deliberate. I wasn¡¯t trying to kill the Ratlings, at least, not yet. I was trying to remove their hunger. The pressure I applied was more calculated for my second attempt.


    Once again, the Ratling died.


    A third, then a fourth. Each time I was met with the same result.


    An ugly suspicion started to form and with it acid started to rise up from deep inside my stomach. I hadn¡¯t experimented much here, so I hoped that I was wrong. I believed that the force that drove the Ratlings to hunger was responsible for animating them in the first place.


    If you took that away from them, then their existence came to an end.


    It was likely next to impossible to cure their condition without killing them in the process. Impossible to offer them the opportunity to merely exist like any other race. They were cursed to be forever hungry or not to exist at all. Killing them was a kindness ¡ª both to them and everyone else ¡ª because there was no other way to halt their suffering.


    Eternal hunger or death were the only choices they had.


    Deep within the pits of my soul, a part of me howled in outrage. What kind of monster would go so far as to do something so utterly vile? Who would make a species that was doomed to suffer like this forever?


    ¡°Creation is a canvas


    And I hold the brush;


    Let the Gods Above guide me


    As I change the pigments of the paint.¡±


    The sonorous chanting from in front of me came to an abrupt end.


    It was as if the entire world stilled for a moment. A shrieking silence tore through the pass. Colour bleached out of reality around us. Everything wilted. The small shrubbery growing out from between the crags, insect life, moss on the rocks and even the rocks themselves.


    The desolation.


    I was not certain what it was that Yvette had done. Whatever it was, the effect was certain to be huge.


    I¡­should have been paying more attention to her.


    There was a loud crack. A thunderous detonation. Her spell was not limited to the prison I had built. I threw up a transparent shield around us. Sisyphus neighed nervously. My reaction turned out not to be necessary. A shimmering silver barrier demarcated the region the spell was within. For a few heartbeats, it was as if space itself within the sphere had been folded into a Gordian knot.


    Then the barrier faded, and the spell came to an end. The world where the Ratlings had been¡­didn¡¯t really make sense any more. Bizarre, malformed sculptures growing half out of particoloured glass and half out of rotten flesh occupied large parts of the land bridge. Rocks carved into abstract shapes jutted out of the ground like the trailing figures made by the smoke of a fire. Phosphorescent liquids oozed all over the place. Puffy, floating clouds of unknown substances hovered in the air. Fossilized Ratling corpses frozen in their final moments lay below the walls.


    There were a few, vanishingly rare corpses of Ratlings that were left unchanged.


    Weird, unknown objects composed of geometric forms were shimmering in and out of existence within the blast radius. The air itself had an odd blue tinge to it. It smelled rank, sulphurous.


    It looked like some of Yvette¡¯s worst failed attempts to perform transmutation. In fact, I suspected that was exactly what it was. She had tried to transmute everything within the zone, she just didn¡¯t particularly care what any of it turned into.


    I shuddered.


    This wasn¡¯t acceptable as a weapon at all. Not just because it was inhumane. There was no telling what manner of side effects would occur. If she needed to defend herself, she could do it without turning enemies into macabre sculptures. It wasn¡¯t like I hadn¡¯t explained appropriate tools of violence to her before. I was about to scold her when she started to slump forward on Sisyphus. The effort had knocked her unconscious. I grabbed her, preventing her from falling over.


    Deal with this later.


    I began the process of smoothing out the landscape ahead. I indiscriminately turned Yvette¡¯s monstrosities back into polished stone. There was no way I was going to risk leaving the consequences of this unchecked.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    I gently nudged Sisyphus, ordering him to move closer.


    Rather unsurprisingly, the horse refused the request.


    Smart horse.


    I dismounted and floated Yvette gently off Sisyphus as well.


    ¡°Halt sorcerer! Identify yourself.¡± A deep voice called out sternly.


    How is this man able to keep his cool?


    I turned my head back towards the fortress. A man in scratched and bloodied ornamented steel plate armour approached me at a sprint. His helmet was down. He had the markings of an officer.


    ¡°I¡¯m the Aspirant. I was sent by Cordelia Hasenbach to help.¡± I answered. ¡°Give me a moment.¡±


    The man looked doubtful. That was unsurprising. I reached into one of the bags hanging off the side of my mount and dug around for a few heartbeats. It took a while before I found what I was looking for.


    I pulled out a pile of documentation and gingerly held it towards him. He reached towards it and I pulled it back quickly. I was not prepared to allow him to muck it up with the filthy state of his gauntlets. Grumbling, he pulled up his visor and came closer. His face was covered in sweat and grime, and his moustache looked like a greasy worm rather than hair. His blue eyes began to skim across the page.


    ¡°Are you able to restore our defences?¡± He gestured towards the hole in their fortifications.


    I was about to answer when I felt something enter the edge of my range. It came from another path on our right leading up to the narrow land bridge that held the Volsaga fortress, and it was moving fast.


    I stiffened, then immediately held up a hand.


    ¡°Something¡¯s wrong,¡± I replied.


    The man immediately went on alert.


    I didn¡¯t know what it was. It gave me a migraine simply to sense it. Whatever it was, I could hear its lethality in the song of the world. It screamed danger at me. It felt like a bared blade that was infinitely sharp, slicing through the very fabric of creation.


    ¡°Do you also feel that?¡± I whispered to the man under my breath.


    It reminded me of the fight with the Absence Demon, only so much worse. The feeling was concentrated, honed to a fine point. I doubted I would be able to influence what I was sensing if the situation called for a fight. Whatever I was feeling terrified me on a visceral level.


    And it was slowly drawing closer.


    ¡°No, Chosen?¡± He replied questioningly.


    I floated Yvette carefully back onto the horse, but kept her held in place by the air. Then, I climbed back on our mount right behind her. I didn¡¯t want to be anywhere nearby. Whatever it was scared me enough when I could only feel that it was there.


    ¡°It¡¯s like there¡¯s the idea of a blade approaching us, severing everything around it.¡± I explained brusquely. ¡°Return to your fortress and warn people. I don¡¯t know how dangerous this is.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t usually actively aware of the area in which I could actively impose my will. Right now, I very much was. It was like there was a small segment of it that had been carved out. A place where the world no longer made any sense to me.


    All of my senses shouted at me that I should be somewhere, anywhere else.


    I started the process of preparing to lift us up into the sky. I didn¡¯t know if this assailant could fly, but I considered it likely to be safer than on the ground. That was when I felt the Angels lean in close once more. With them came the sensation that everything was fine. I did not need to run.


    Just run.


    I was sorely tempted to ignore their advice. I felt like I was bathing in white phosphorus. There was only so much trust I was willing to extend, and this pushed me to my very limits.


    ¡°You¡¯re fine Taylor. You¡¯re safe. Everything is fine. Whatever it is, it is on your side.¡± I muttered to myself under my breath.


    Now if only I could convince myself of that. It felt as if I had swallowed my antithesis.


    The world screamed at me each moment I sat still.


    The man had started to run back to the Fortress. I dismissed him from my thoughts and sat stiffly. I kept up cleaning the surroundings, focusing on removing the more concerning material first. Anything to keep myself occupied.


    Don¡¯t think about it.


    Repairing the walls would have to wait until whatever it was that scared me so much arrived. I didn¡¯t have the focus for it at the moment. Eventually I could see what it was that I was so terrified of.


    A figure appeared from around the other side of the bend in the road on the right.


    It was an elderly woman. She was short. A lot shorter than me if I was standing on the ground. She walked rapidly towards us. At least, it looked like she was walking. Each step somehow consumed so much space that it was as if she was running faster than a horse. She was swiftly progressing her way along the newly redecorated section of mountainside. Her movements were deceptively calm.


    She leapt up over a chunk of debris that I hadn¡¯t found the time to clean up just yet, landing on our side of the road. It was an impossible jump. A movement that no ordinary person would have been able to make.


    Everything about her was fluid. It was as if there was nothing about her white robes that constricted her at all. She held a blade in her right hand. The empty sheath trailed on her left. She raised her head. Her skin was creased, and her face was mottled with spots. Her eyes met mine. They were hard, but they softened once they settled upon me.


    She turned to Yvette¡¯s sleeping form, and her gaze hardened once more.


    Why does she scream murder to my senses?


    ¡°Good afternoon, sister,¡± the figure called out.


    Careful.


    I didn¡¯t know if there was anything I could do that would set her off. All I knew was that I wanted to keep her peaceful.


    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± I replied. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    She looked over the scene grimly and sheathed her blade. ¡°I am Laurence de Montfort.¡±


    I froze. That was a name that I knew, even if it was only by reputation. The Regicide. The Saint of Swords. She was a hero held in high renown, even in a place as harsh as Rhenia. Although I doubted that was as true for the nobility. I hadn¡¯t taken a moment to ask the nobility about the Saint, but I suspected they would not have anything positive to say.


    After all, she was responsible for slaying one of the Proceran Princes.


    I didn¡¯t know if I could convince her to help or not, but she would likely be a valuable ally deeper within the Chain of Hunger.


    ¡°I¡¯m Taylor, the Aspirant.¡±


    Her entire demeanour shifted the moment I spoke.


    ¡°What¡¯s one of Compassion¡¯s kids doing up north?¡± her voice was laced with concern.


    ¡°Augur said I was needed here,¡± I blurted out. ¡°There is a Horned Lord coming. Are you able to help?¡±


    The Saint of Swords went still.


    ¡°A Horned Lord is a few years ahead of what you can handle, kid.¡± She chided.


    ¡°You believe me?¡±


    ¡°I only just departed from another of these border forts, it had been overrun. Those longtails aren¡¯t intelligent,¡± she pointed at the remains of one of the massive Ratlings. One of the few that were still around. ¡°They don¡¯t scheme. They should have tried to eat each other ¡ª I wouldn¡¯t expect an attack like this. Only the very small and very old ones have a head between their ears. If they¡¯re here in groups, it means there¡¯s some kind of trouble deeper in the Chain.¡±


    ¡°I was told to come,¡± I replied. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be here otherwise. Don¡¯t know if I can kill it or not but¡­ I can certainly help out.¡±


    I reached out with my mind and continued the clean-up. Once I had finished, I began the process of actively reconstructing the gaping hole in the fortress walls.


    I turned back towards her.


    She looked at me thoughtfully.


    ¡°Well, no point putting it off,¡± the Saint declared. ¡°Prepare for trouble, priestess. We¡¯re going after the tiger in its own lair, so expect this fight to be a notch above anything you¡¯ve been in before. Leave the sleeping kid and the horse at the fortress. Let¡¯s go kill some Ratlings.¡±


    She looked like she was about to start wandering off.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I interrupted her. ¡°Yvie¡¯s coming with.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re bringing an apprentice where we will be heading?¡± she asked incredulously. ¡°Kid, are you wanting to die?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not my apprentice,¡± I replied. ¡°She¡¯s my ward.¡±


    If I felt I could trust anyone else to take care of her, then I would have left her behind. Unfortunately, I was certain that anyone else would tell her to toughen up. They would try to make her into a weapon and tell her that her trauma is normal. They wouldn¡¯t help her to deal with it.


    I also wanted to talk to her about what she had done.


    ¡°The Gods above draw no distinction between the two,¡± she stated.


    ¡°I put some effort into protecting Yvie,¡± I told Laurence.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t the danger. Even if it was, that outfit of hers will do piss all against Ratling spears.¡±


    It was actually very dense silk that I had made implausibly durable in the same manner as my robe.


    ¡°I reinforced it,¡± I corrected. ¡°Anything that can cut through it would also cut through steel.¡±


    I¡¯d also burned a week¡¯s worth of phantoms in order to make Yvette a blade that was impossibly sharp. There was a risk that it would call down the Gnomes, but I doubted that they would perceive it as a problem. The item was closer to magic than science. I had no hope of making one on my own without assistance, and nobody on Calernia would stand a chance at reverse engineering it either.


    It was a weapon that could cut through anything at all if she ever found herself needing one. Items like it wouldn¡¯t do much for me. That didn¡¯t mean that they wouldn¡¯t help the people I cared about.


    ¡°Relying on magic tricks is a good way to get killed,¡± she challenged.


    ¡°Better than nothing at all,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Fine, but have her stay at the back where her talents can be useful,¡± Laurence stated. ¡°Don¡¯t complain to me when this all ends in tears.¡±


    <hr>


    The day was finally reaching its end. It had taken over half an hour for Yvette to wake up again. She avoided meeting my gaze and had been quiet ever since. She slunk around like a naughty kid that knew that she had done something wrong, but didn¡¯t regret doing it, and was afraid that her mom was going to be disappointed with her. I wasn¡¯t sure what to do.


    I would give myself at most another day or two to think over how to deal with this.


    It was likely that she feared I was upset with her for killing the Ratlings. That¡­wasn¡¯t the problem. The issue was how she had done it. It spoke to me about how she felt about her parent¡¯s deaths. The emotions that she had suppressed. I was going to have to talk to her on the subject.


    Trying to raise her made me feel sorry for my dad.


    We had made a brief stopover at the fortress before departing once more. They had been under attack for over a day and had come dangerously close to having their defences collapse. Ratling assaults that were calculated and organized were far from normal.


    Even if they were well-prepared for Ratlings, the nature of the attack had taken them by surprise.


    Laurence was guiding the way deeper into the mountains. She had actual experience in the region. Yvette and I were following behind. We had abandoned the actual roads. At first, I had questioned why we were heading this way. This wasn¡¯t the normal path into the Chain of Hunger. Laurnce had told me that she was following the trail of the force that had attacked the walls instead.


    The sun was setting by the time we made camp. Currently, I was in the process of slowly reshaping the terrain. I was carving us a miniature stronghold into the side of a cliff face. The excess matter was turned outwards, erecting fortifications that we likely would not need.


    I didn¡¯t expect any attacks during the night. I couldn¡¯t sense any of the wrongness nearby. Now that I knew what to look for, it was obvious to my senses when Ratlings were close. They had a taste to them. Like diluting tea with vinegar.


    Knowing we were likely safe wasn¡¯t an excuse for me to be careless.


    We had encountered a few more bands of Ratlings since the meeting with the Saint.


    I felt the sliver that was the Saint approach me from behind. She was still uncomfortable for me to be around. I was sure that I would have trouble sleeping. I was willing to tolerate her presence if it made this calamity more manageable.


    ¡°You crossed blades with the Warlock once?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    I stopped what I was doing as she sat down on a rock to my right. I sat down beside her. The two of us had our backs to the eastern cliff face, facing away from the dying sun. Yvette knelt beside a cook pot before us. The flames crackled heartily as she watched the contents. Her attention would drift every so often, before it would snap back after another rumble from the fire.


    She averted her gaze guiltily when she noticed that I was looking her way.


    Sisyphus stood beside Yvette, his dappled coat shining in the light of the fire. The Saint had thought bringing the horse along was a waste, but I was confident that without the use of my abilities we could keep up better with a mount.


    ¡°The man¡¯s killed thousands. Are you prepared for when you fight him again?¡±


    I blinked.


    It wasn¡¯t a question I had been expecting. She had stated it as if it were a given.


    ¡°When, not if, I fight him again?¡± I inquired.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had your loss, and it ought to have been decent practice. You tried taking a hatchet to the rot, but your first fight came before the rising sun.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can beat him,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to know your limits, but you¡¯re flinching¡± she cautioned. ¡°You don¡¯t have to win the next clash of blades, although it would be a blessing if you did. Even if we can only arrange for a draw on your terms, then the knife to the throat is assured, kid. Don¡¯t you know about patterns of three?¡±


    ¡°That explains a lot,¡± I grumbled.


    I grasped what she was referring to. It wasn¡¯t that I hadn¡¯t known about patterns of three in stories, but more that I had been thinking of stories in Calernia in terms of the more obvious tropes. It hadn¡¯t occurred to me to consider the broader narrative structures. The information helped to contextualize the fight with the Arcadian Artist. If I had known that we were fated to meet again, I would have been far more alert.


    The Saint was an experienced hero. Probably the most experienced hero I would ever meet. She was grouchy and acerbic, and I doubted I would ever like her, but that didn¡¯t mean her advice wouldn¡¯t be good.


    ¡°Have you ever heard of the Two Hundred heroic Axioms, Taylor?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t. For all that they sounded important, it was difficult to find any information on Names at all. I suspected they were all trying to hide their weaknesses. It was frustrating and counter-productive in the long term. Heroes would have a much easier time if they could easily find out more about those who came before. History was doomed to repeat itself if it wasn¡¯t made easily available for people to learn. It made me wish for the internet.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re pieces of advice. Following them helps a hero live longer.¡± she explained. ¡°Phrases like ¡®If your band is split during a harrowing test set by a villain or ambiguous entity, you may safely assume you will next be reunited in some sort of cell or unfolding sacrificial ritual,¡¯¡± she quoted.


    ¡°Any others like that?¡±


    It would surprise me if I didn¡¯t recognize most of what she mentioned. I would still ask so that I could hear about local stories that I was unfamiliar with.


    ¡°There are more common axioms like ¡®don¡¯t swing from chandeliers while wearing armour¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Do people actually do that?¡±


    ¡°Of course they do.¡± She sounded affronted. ¡°Kid, you¡¯re a hero. Listen to your choosing. Learn stories, then make sure to drag villains into the right ones. Don¡¯t shy away from ending their lives once you pull them in, because that¡¯s when they¡¯re as good as dead.¡±


    It was an exceedingly monochrome way of viewing the world. One that didn¡¯t fit the person that I had decided to be.


    ¡°My choosing suggests otherwise,¡± I replied. ¡°What other advice do you have?¡±


    She paused, looking me over critically. ¡°Do you know who the most dangerous villain I¡¯ve ever faced was, kid?¡±


    I considered the question. I didn¡¯t know enough about the Saint of Swords to give a definite answer. That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t give no answer at all.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be a fighter. It will be a mastermind. Someone dangerous because of how smart they are.¡±


    ¡°The most dangerous villain I ever faced was my first: an alchemist so sickly he could barely hold a sword.¡±


    ¡°Did he create plagues with long incubation times and kill people that way?¡±


    ¡°No, he made antidotes. Potions to end plagues and heal the worst of injuries.¡±


    ¡°What was the problem?¡±


    ¡°People were going missing, and I looked into it ¡ª bandits and criminals, as it turned out. He was keeping them in cells and using them for bloody research.¡±


    ¡°Human experimentation. What happened after you caught him?¡±


    ¡°I let him off with a warning. I told him he could use animals and not people.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t listen,¡± it was obvious where this story was going, ¡°or he pretended to listen. Made something useful. He ingratiated himself with people. They ignored what he did to keep him around.¡±


    Songbird would have been similar, only more personal. I felt chills. Was letting her go a mistake?


    ¡°You understand then. There can be no truce with the enemy. I know it will be especially hard for you. Compassion is your wheelhouse, and it isn¡¯t mine. Don¡¯t let your own feelings blind you, Taylor.¡±


    ¡°This villain. Did you stick around or visit every now and again?¡±


    ¡°I wandered by when the calling came to me. I have never remained in one place for long.¡±


    ¡°Change is hard,¡± I began carefully. ¡°Without someone to guide him, it would have been easy for him to fall back into old habits.¡±


    Not that I thought that someone whose first recourse was to lock people up and experiment on them was likely to look for change.


    ¡°You¡¯re young. I¡¯ve seen many of these ¡®turnabouts¡¯ over the years. Damned that made their apologies and swore they¡¯d never meant to hurt anyone. None of them kept their word. There can be no compromise with the enemy,¡± Laurence repeated firmly.


    I was not going to argue about this with her. Laurence was old. Old and likely stuck in her ways. I would never change her mind. I didn¡¯t agree with her conclusion. Good was about guidance. She hadn¡¯t provided any. Setting down rules and expecting someone to follow them was the act of a ruler, not a teacher.


    ¡°I think that if he had really wanted to be redeemed, then he would have lost his Name,¡± I answered diplomatically.


    ¡°I hope you can still believe that there was even a chance, in a decade,¡± she said.


    ¡°You think I¡¯m going to fight the Warlock again?¡±


    ¡°There is no certainty except under the grace of our Gods, but it would be foolish not to prepare,¡± she stated confidently. ¡°You¡¯ve already fought with the Warlock once. When the time comes, unsheathe your blade and don¡¯t hesitate to slit his throat.¡±


    I wondered why she hadn¡¯t just gone across the border and tried to solve the problem herself.


    ¡°Because I¡¯m one woman, not an army, Taylor.¡± There was a flash of pain across her wrinkled face.


    Had I said that out loud?


    I turned away, looking back to the fire before us. Yvette¡¯s attention had fully drifted. She had her head buried in a book and her nose kept twitching. I smiled sadly watching her.


    ¡°In the past, I fought the Ranger. She left me in the dirt with a hole in my chest.  I would be dead if it weren¡¯t for Tariq wandering by.¡± she finished softly.


    ¡°Anything else you think I should know?¡±


    The two of us sat there watching the fire as the sun set. The Saint continued to talk. She shared her perspective on what it meant to carry a Name. I didn¡¯t agree with much of what she said, but I understood the crucible that had made her what she was.


    She had gone from tragedy to tragedy. It was a common theme I noticed in every story that she told. The Saint of Swords always arrived after the first disaster. Her Role was to prevent the second one from occurring. It was hard to avoid becoming bitter after living so long and only seeing the world at its worst.


    I sat and listened. I wasn¡¯t willing to contemplate fighting a war without ever considering negotiation except in very specific circumstances. There were times to set down rules. Agreements that could be made that would benefit everyone. The dogma of the Saint of Swords was one that would only ever end in ruin. If we were joined together against other people and not a race that was compelled to be Evil, I would probably put up much more of a disagreement.


    That didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t willing to hear what she said.


    After all, it was my chance to learn more about the life of a hero from somebody who had lived it, one story at a time.

 Ingress 4.01

    "Skitter, skitter, crawl and creep


    Hunger, hunger, never sleep


    Deeper down below the ground


    The song of famine doth resound"


    ¡ª Scholar''s interpretation of a series of charcoal rubbings taken of Ratling claw marks, page five.


    <hr>


    I woke up to the sound of crackling meat and the scent of smoke from a fire. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the light before planning to start my early morning spam message to the Gods Above. That was when an epiphany struck.


    The Book of All Things differed from region to region. I knew that. I had read over multiple versions of it. It hadn''t occurred to me until now what that truly meant.


    It meant that the original version of it had probably been penned by people and not the Gods. I was embarrassed it had taken me so long to figure that out. The revelation was so obvious. There was no reason for me to pray like this at all. The Gods Above were fine with any form of guidance. If they weren''t, their holy book would have been prescribed and not interpreted by us.


    The realization reframed my goals. This wasn''t about convincing the Gods which form of guidance was correct. It was about persuading the people living in Creation.


    I didn''t need to ask the Gods Above to leave my dream alone. If my dream functioned, then they would be happy to. It would almost certainly be a condition where my definition of guidance would be adopted over any other. It would have to be, because it would be the most successful ideology.


    The discovery left me feeling at a bit of a loss. Praying was a daily ritual for me now. It was an ingrained habit that I didn''t want to just give up. If I wasn''t going to keep praying purely to annoy the Gods Above, then what would I pray for?


    Guidance.


    There was no reason not to ask for help, even if I didn''t receive it. They were there, and they almost certainly heard and saw everything. Guidance was what the side of Good championed, so guidance was what I would ask for.


    So I sat and prayed. I was about to stand up, when something else occurred to me. It was something that was important.


    People saw me as a priestess. There were no surprises there, I dressed like one. It bothered me. Not because I had a problem with being seen as being a priestess, but because I didn''t want to give people a false impression of what I was. I didn''t want to hide one of the very few items that were significant to me. I also didn''t want to be mistaken for something that I was not.


    That created a conundrum.


    I had liked every devout member of the faith that I had met so far. I doubted that would hold true if I met the more ambitious priests ¡ª the ones who were trying to grab power ¡ª but the people lower down that I had met were definitely trying to do good.


    Heroes in Creation were by definition a part of the organizational structure of the church. Just by existing, I represented the faith. I knew that. I understood that. It didn''t change how I felt.


    Being mistaken for a priestess when I wasn''t faithful to the Gods Above themselves ¡ª even if I did trust their guidance ¡ª made me feel like a fraud.


    But¡­ did it have to stay that way? I wasn''t opposed to giving sermons on principle. They were just another form of guidance, although it was probably best if I avoided being the one giving speeches entirely. The part I struggled with was placing blind faith in a higher power. Trusting that I could close my eyes and let them lead me to safety. It felt wrong to preach faith in the Gods Above when I didn''t have it myself.


    It was something for me to think about.


    I finished praying and stood up, then took a moment to make myself presentable and exited our mountainside shelter.


    "Morning Taylor you''re finally awake I wanted to wake you earlier but the Saint suggested letting you have some rest before the hard part of our journey begins she also caught us breakfast isn''t that nice of her?" Yvette babbled.


    Laurence and Yvette sat around a fire. Laurence had evidently caught an animal of some kind at some point this morning, because there was part of one on a spit over the open flames. Its carcass had been thoroughly repurposed. There was a mess of gore downwind of us that included the remaining bones.


    "Good morning," I greeted them. "What''s for breakfast?"


    "It''s a mountain goat the animal wandered near the fortress you made we''re quite lucky most animals are eaten by Ratlings so this is unusual."


    "Good morning, Taylor," Laurence replied gruffly.


    I approached and sat down next to Yvette. I''d been thinking about how I wanted to deal with Yvette''s explosion and I''d finally made up my mind.


    "Yvie, I wanted to talk about yesterday," I began.


    "I''m not sorry the Ratlings deserved to die and I''d kill them again so don''t ask me not to I''m not changing my mind," she chattered defensively.


    "It''s not about that."


    She looked taken aback. "Oh well then what did you want to talk about was my spell work too sloppy I thought I did a good job-"


    "The problem was how you killed them," I interjected.


    "You transmute things all the time it''s not fair why can''t I do that as well."


    "It''s not the same," I challenged. "I''m in control of the situation every step of the way. The outcome is assured before I even begin. What you did was dangerous. You didn''t really have any control of the result. Imagine if you had accidentally made a plague or created some new monster."


    "But that would be really unlikely the chances of making something that is actually alive like that are tiny and it''s a really effective weapon-"


    "You should listen to Taylor, kid," Laurence spoke up roughly. "Wizards ¡ª even the finest of you are only ever one shift of the tides of curiosity away from drowning in the sea of Evil," she turned to the side and spat.


    Yvette''s skin paled in dawn''s light at the interruption.


    "You know how to use the magical staples. Fireballs, lightning bolts and more. Why do you keep risking experimental magic?"


    "I just want to make you proud and I can''t do that if I stick to normal magic like everyone else how am I supposed to be worth travelling with heroes if I can''t do anything special," she mumbled under her breath.


    "I''m proud of you when you''re being responsible." I consoled her. "When you come up with new ideas and test them carefully. You don''t need to take risks for me to want you around."


    Yvette faced the ground and said nothing in response.


    "I know how awful grief is," I continued. "Taking it out on the world doesn''t make life any better. I tried that as well six to seven years ago. I felt angry, trapped, like I couldn''t find a way out. So I made a new face for myself. A new life. An escape where I could express all the emotions I didn''t normally let myself show."


    "And you''re telling me it didn''t make your life any better I don''t believe that if the Ratlings were all gone then I would be able to move on and not think about what happened I''m sure of it anyhow the meat is starting to look ready when are we going to eat?" Yvette''s head snapped back up as she started to argue once more.


    "I won''t lie to you. In some ways it did help, but in other ways it didn''t. In a lot of ways, it made my life worse. I kept making one worse decision after another."


    Laurence started pulling the meat off of the spit. Absently, I turned some rocks into cutlery and crockery, then floated the dinnerware over to her. She stared at the collection of dishes warily for a few moments. It was as if she was appraising a venomous snake. Eventually, she made up her mind and grabbed my offering out of the air.


    "How are you doing that?" Laurence inquired.


    "I can feel the world around me. It''s like it''s a part of me. I''m telling it to change."


    "Tariq would call what you have a domain. You should stick to only a single interpretation of it. Don''t dilute your faith the way you currently are. Decide what purpose guides you and stay true to it. The purity of it will grant you strength," Laurence advised.


    "I''ll keep that in mind."


    It sounded like well-intentioned advice that would have been useful if I actually had a domain.


    "Then what would you do just let it go and let the deaths go unavenged and I''m not willing to do that." Yvette responded.


    "Find a better way. The Chain of Hunger isn''t disappearing unless you cure their sickness or kill them all. I doubt the latter will work."


    "Why don''t you think they can''t all be killed everything dies eventually none of us will live forever I just need to find the right kind of working." Yvette''s eyes were hard while she spoke.


    "I won''t tell you that revenge won''t feel good, at least for a little while." I replied. "But how long would it take? Dealing with the Chain of Hunger is likely the work of a lifetime. Are you wanting to devote your entire life to this?"


    "Think beyond keeping the kid''s hands clean, Taylor," Laurence mused. "Consider the many centuries of suffering that would come to an end were she to succeed. I believe this to be a worthy purpose, one that the kid should strive for."


    Why doesn''t that surprise me?


    "What did you learn from your experiments I saw you doing something to them during the fight and I know you weren''t just trying to kill them so obviously you learned something."


    Laurence finished dishing up the meal and passed it out to all of us. The meat was tough, but still good. I wished that I had salt.


    "They would die if you stopped the curse. I don''t know how to do that. I''ve been thinking about it."


    "A sword does not bend. Make no attempt at saving them. They were made into what they are now long ago and the culprit likely died painfully. That does not mean we should spare them the blade." Laurence declared.


    "Removing their hunger would kill them unless you replaced it with something else. I don''t know how to do that. It''s more complicated than it seems. The hunger is alive, sentient. It isn''t like you can just swap it out with just anything."


    "So I just need to-"


    "You need to find a healthier way to handle your grief," I interjected.


    Yvette glared up at me sullenly.


    Putting aside my meal for a moment, I climbed off the rock I was sitting on and knelt on the ground in front of her so that our eyes were level with each other.


    "I''m here for you. Don''t do the same stupid shit I did. It took me years to fix my life afterwards."


    Yvette turned away and said nothing in response.


    <hr>


    Days had passed. Laurence led us further and further north. Encounters with Ratlings became more frequent. Other signs of life had become sparse. Eventually, it became difficult to find food for Sisyphus. To my embarrassment, I needed to waste several hours learning how to make oats.


    "How are you following the Ratlings?" I asked from the back of our mount.


    We were travelling along the side of a mountain that was nothing but bare rock. There wasn''t even dirt to make tracks in.


    "I am listening to the groove they leave in the current of Creation," Laurence answered cryptically.


    No, not listening. She''s Listening.


    We rounded a large outcropping and all three of us ground to a halt. A gigantic, cavernous maw opened up in the ground ahead of us. The edges were cracked and large amounts of rubble marked out the opening. We approached closer.


    The entrance was at least thirty feet wide. Leaning over the edge, I looked inside. The interior of the cavern below was unusually tubular and continued to slope down the mountain towards the north. I was a few moments away from declaring the cave artificial when Yvette spoke up from in front of me.


    "Oh some books my old tutors made me read mentioned these but I never thought I''d see one look at those repeated lines on the side of the wall they mark the height where the lava flows do you think the Ratlings use these to travel it would explain how they reached here."


    Yvette leaned forward and pointed as she chattered. I had to grab her and pull her back to prevent her from tumbling off of Sisyphus''s back down into the cave.


    Taking that information into account, I turned around and squinted in the direction of the mountain peak. Unfortunately, it was occluded by the clouds above. Maybe it was a dormant volcano. It wasn''t possible for me to judge.


    "Is this the right way?" I asked.


    "This is where we need to go in." Laurence affirmed.


    I created a glowing white light for us to follow. Yvette and I dismounted. Our poor horse didn''t need to carry our weight while we navigated such precarious terrain. All three of us started to make our way in.


    Progress was quick at first. The tunnel proceeded in a single direction, and it wasn''t as if we could become lost. We followed deeper towards the north. There was an eerie, howling wind from within that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. The air became both hotter and damper the further we descended.


    None of us dared to speak as we progressed.


    Hours passed.


    Eventually, we reached another hole in the floor. We stopped to investigate. We had yet to run into more Ratlings and all of us were on edge. To my dismay, the hole was where the Saint''s senses told us we had to go. There was just one problem.


    "The only sensible solution to a maze is to not enter the maze," Laurence quoted firmly.


    "Does this count as a maze?" I asked dubiously.


    The cave below differed substantially from the tunnels we had been moving around in. Not in size ¡ª it was still possible for giant rats to walk in them while standing up ¡ª but in shape. There were several branches moving off from each other, and it wasn''t immediately obvious which way we needed to go.


    "I don''t think it''s a maze look over here at these markings on the walls I think they''re directions telling the Ratlings where to go but how do you read them I didn''t know the Ratlings had a written language why did nobody tell me?" Yvette asked.


    I followed the path of her finger to where she was pointing.


    Symbols had been gouged deep into the walls of the cave by large claws.


    "I don''t know, Yvie." I turned my attention to Laurence. "Can you read those?"


    She pursed her lips and moved closer. I followed behind. After a couple of hundred heartbeats of both of us studying them, Laurence eventually shook her head.


    "The current of Creation in this place has been suborned to one of these longtail''s wills. The feeling is uncanny. All of us should keep our blades in hand and our wits sharp."


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    I examined the markings further. Something about them tickled the back of my mind. As if they should be familiar. I doubted the exact symbology I was looking at would be something I recognized, so it was likely more the structure they were arranged in. They were grouped into small clusters of symbols ¡ª there was one cluster of symbols beside each tunnel ¡ª and almost seemed to tell some kind of story.


    "I don''t think those markings are directions, but I''m not sure what they are." I declared, "Can you lead us anyway?"


    Laurence cocked her head to the side for a few moments and listened. The rest of us waited awkwardly.


    "I can guide us," she stated with absolute certainty, "but food first."


    I created some seating for us and sealed off the side passages while Laurence rummaged around and started to prepare a meal. I was a better cook than her, but I let her be. Laurence seemed to like having the opportunity to play the role of the kindly grandmother, and it was when she was playing that role that she was nicest.


    I''d let her adopt that Role whenever she chose to do so.


    That left me with more time to examine the writing. I didn''t think I would be able to make sense of it, but I could bring it back to a scholar to examine. I focused and created a sheet of paper and some charcoal, then started to create a rubbing of it.


    Laurence looked at me oddly for a moment, before speaking up. "It is best not to risk too much curiosity, lest you start tumbling down the slippery slope and fall into Evil."


    "I''m not going to," I replied, exasperated.


    She had been on edge ever since we had entered the tunnels. Not that I blamed her. I was consciously filtering out sounds and smells around us, just so that we weren''t swarmed.


    "What are you doing?"


    "Making a record of this. Maybe someone can figure out what it says. Preserve their culture in history books."


    "This place does not deserve to be recorded."


    "If we don''t remember it, then it will be repeated."


    "It would be beyond even the ambitions of the Warlocks of Praes to recreate a tragedy as great as this one," she rejoined.


    "See it as an examination of their weaknesses. A tool that can be used to fight them in future."


    That appeared to mollify Laurence. Dealing with her was exhausting at times like this.


    Finished with my record keeping, I shoved the paper into a pouch on the side of our mount.


    It didn''t take long until we were seated in a triangle. There was an easy camaraderie as we shared a bite to eat.


    "You''ve told me before about the things you regret and there were lots of them was that really all true or are you just trying to make me feel better?" Yvette asked quietly.


    There was an intensity to her that I was not used to seeing.


    "It''s all true."


    Yvette''s shoulders sagged. "Then what should I do?" she whispered. "Should I try to stop the Ratlings or should I do something else?" Her voice trembled.


    "That isn''t a question you need to answer right away," I answered, "but I''ll listen to anything you want to tell me. I won''t judge you. I promise¡­" My voice trailed off as I paused to gather my thoughts. "If it will help you, I''ll answer almost any questions you ask me as well. Even uncomfortable ones."


    Our stop was brief. It wasn''t long until we set off once more. We were progressing further down. The descent was gradual and winding. It would take a while before we reached the bottom.


    "Taylor?" Yvette spoke up once more from beside me.


    "Yes Yvie?"


    "When we stop again, would you mind helping me braid my hair?" Yvette sounded extremely vulnerable. As if me refusing would break something.


    "Can you tell me why?"


    "I ¡ª My mother used to braid my hair before she died."


    The answer struck my gut like a lightning bolt. It hurt in both a bad and a good way.


    Time slowed to a crawl for a moment.


    People with names ¡ª all of us ¡ª were broken in some way. There was some fundamental aspect to us that was missing. It was almost like we were not entirely whole and the piece that was the Name was filling in for what should be there.


    I didn''t want Yvette to earn a Name. That didn''t mean that she wouldn''t.


    Although she had started out in the Role of my apprentice, Yvette had quickly outgrown it. I wasn''t teaching her much when it came to magic any more, she was experimenting entirely on her own. No, despite what Laurence thought, there was an entirely different Role that it seemed like Yvette would fill. I was able to feel the general shape that it was taking, and it did concern me.


    The reasons it worried me were entirely unrelated to falling into the role of a mentor.


    The Name she had been moving towards up until now felt like it occupied a Role involving otherworldly creatures in some way. I suspected that it was defined by her attempts at replicating the effects of demons. Despite using my nature as a blueprint, it hadn''t been personal enough for me to peer far enough into Yvette''s budding story to adequately judge.


    With those few words she had spoken, the outline of Yvette''s nascent Name had abruptly changed. I cast my gaze forward and considered the new lay of possibilities. It was my choice, not hers, that would determine the new shape her Name continued to take.


    She had passed the decision on to me.


    What should I do?


    The road forks. I consider the first decision that was available to me. What happens when I reject her request? Yvette withdraws, she loses faith in me. Her heart hardens and we separate after our quest comes to an end. She returns fully fledged as a member of Cordelia''s court, bitter and angry at my rejection.


    The vision terminates there along that path. It is impersonal, hard to follow because I play little part in it.


    No. No, that won''t do.


    I consider the next path. The road where I reject her and sever her Name deliberately. Yvette returns to Cordelia''s court, but finds herself considered unremarkable there. Yvette is no longer content to remain with ordinary tutors. Bitter and angry, she heads north once more. Only a few months later, she dies at the claws of a Rat.


    I''m not willing to accept that ending, either.


    What next?


    The branch where I accept but break the Name.


    Yvette is happy to be with me at first, but as time goes on she becomes morose. She wants a Name ¡ª she needs a Name ¡ª but finds herself denied. Her mood darkens and one day she reaches too far, only to claim her own life in the process.


    Please let there be a better option.


    With great trepidation, I considered the next option.


    What would happen if I accepted her request? To my surprise, there was more than one way it could play out. The first is dangerous. Dangerous for me. I accept Yvette''s request in the spirit it is offered, and find myself back in the Role of the mentor. The journey continues and Yvette finds herself threatened. She overreaches and calls upon magic that the Saint is unwilling to tolerate. Laurence attacks and I move to defend Yvette.


    I perish in the assault.


    No, not that story. Even if I were to pre-empt the Saint''s attack, it would likely end in tears.


    What else is there?


    I could give her what she truly wants, but she''s too afraid to ask for.


    The journey continues, we confront our foe, and this time it does not end in tragedy. In time, Yvette comes into a Name. It''s a Name defined by her relationship to me. I try to reach further, to see what that Name is. I cannot. It lies behind the veil of other decisions. Decisions that have yet to be made.


    I''m too young to be a mom, let alone hers!


    Everything about this choice scared me. I couldn''t replace her family. I had only been responsible for Yvette for a brief period of time. Not years. Not anywhere near long enough. This wasn''t a situation I had expected to be in any time soon. That didn''t mean I couldn''t do my best. A part of me felt that I should refuse, much like I had refused Songbird. I squashed it brutally.


    This wasn''t the same set of circumstances.


    As far ahead as I could see, this was the story where everyone appeared to be happy at the end.


    So I made a choice and plunged off a cliff into the chasm below.


    I seized Yvette tightly in a hug. Her eyes widened in surprise.


    "If you''ll have me as your mother, then I''ll always be your guardian angel," I whispered to her softly.


    Given all other circumstances, I''d be the best mother I could for her. It was a promise. A promise that I intended to keep. It was the least I could do for her. If I was committing to this story, then I would commit to it with everything that I had.


    "You''ll really be my ma?" she asked hesitantly.


    "I will," I confirmed.


    She buried her head in my robes and squeezed me back tighter. Someone was sniffing. I couldn''t tell if it was me or her. My eyes were certainly watering as well.


    I felt warm inside. A sad smile tugged at the edge of my lips, and I allowed it to show.


    I''ll handle this¡­ somehow.


    Laurence''s eyes bored into me with a look that said she considered my death was already confirmed.


    "I hope you''re happy Yvette, you''ve as good as driven a blade through Taylor''s heart yourself," she declared.


    I didn''t bother to correct her.


    Yvette, no, my daughter ¡ª if I was accepting this story then I would commit to it even in my thoughts, I wouldn''t go into this half-heartedly ¡ª felt like she was about to pull away in shock. I hugged her tighter.


    "I''ll always be here for you," I told her. "I promise."


    Yvette relaxed once more. I wasn''t surprised that she chose to believe me instead.


    <hr>


    Despite how the passages kept descending, I suspected that we remained at roughly the same distance from the surface. This was because we had passed numerous exits to the cave so far, and none of them were that high up. The exits were where Ratling activity was always the greatest. There was almost a constant thrum of movement at the passages leading above. Laurence directed us to keep following a trail that led further in.


    I consciously muffled the sounds and smells we made as we progressed. I also veiled our presence. Laurence might want to wade through rivers of blood, but I had no interest in it. We could find our target and kill it, then make our way out. What I was doing didn''t escape from her notice, but she didn''t choose to complain.


    Maybe she could be goal oriented when the goal still involved killing Evil after all.


    Any Ratlings we encountered would be accidental, not deliberate.


    The warren ¡ª that was what I was thinking of it as ¡ª was labyrinthine. The path branched off more frequently the further we went and in multiple directions, both horizontally and vertically. Not all the branches were the same size. Some were much larger than others. Many were so small that only a creature a fraction of our size could fit.


    The movement of the Ratlings was like the low murmur of an ever present river in the background. Even if we couldn''t see them, it was impossible to ignore the fact that they were somewhere within the caverns.


    The Saint had us stick to the largest tunnels.


    It took a while, but eventually I noticed a commonality to the cadence of the noise made by the Ratling''s movements. It gave me the smallest of insights into what was going on within the warrens. They always travelled in the same direction. None of them went against the flow of traffic. It was uncanny and couldn''t be natural.


    The longer we travelled inside the grotto, the more there was for us to see.


    "More Ratlings up ahead," I warned.


    It was easy for me to act as a lookout when I could feel them around us.


    We entered a new chamber when the Saint sprung to attack. Her blade cleared its scabbard, she was across the room in the blink of an eye, and before I could even move I could hear the final gurgling squeal of a Ratling.


    I suppressed a shudder.


    I still did not like being in her presence. It did not matter that she was clearly on our side.


    I took a moment to look around the room.


    Bones of dead creatures were stacked neatly against one of the walls. Some had been assembled into makeshift rickshaws. Others had been turned into tools. Bones that had been yet to be put to use were organized carefully into ordered rows. They were arranged in a manner that suggested there was a system in place that determined how they should be used. Some bones were in the process of being shaped and carved.


    An Ancient One that had been saddled to one of the rickshaws had been busy moving the bones at the behest of some of their handlers before Laurence had cut them all down.


    I walked up beside both Laurence and the beast.


    "Why didn''t it fight back against the smaller rats?"


    She leaned down and pulled up its lips, then gestured to an unhealthy purple swelling on the inside of its gums.


    "There are many plants that grow in the Chain of Hunger that are fatally toxic to all but the most hardy creatures. One type of berry causes hallucinations and mellows you out before you die. The smaller Ratlings use them to keep their elders docile, else they would dine on their own kid''s entrails." Laurence''s lips curled up in distaste.


    Of course. The Ancient Ones were being drugged to keep them compliant. Why wouldn''t they be?


    "Why don''t they use them during sieges?"


    "It''s not useful when the Ratlings launch a raid because it makes the beasts too calm."


    Whether they were being used as siege weapons or beasts of burden, their fate disgusted me.


    Melancholy had begun to set in. The Ratlings definitely had some kind of warped civilization. A culture that I was observing from the outside. It didn''t change that the kindest ending for them was still one that involved death. It would take a miracle to mend this society built on the seeds of starvation.


    We picked up our pace once more.


    We passed through another room showing signs of industry. This one contained mobile forges designed to be easily moved around. I was gradually putting together a picture in my mind of how their civilization operated. It seemed like they were nomadic. Everything they had was designed to be easily transported.


    It made sense. With their hunger, they could not afford to remain in one place.


    Travelling in the tunnels was unnerving. Without Laurence to guide the way, Yvette and I would be hopelessly lost. It didn''t help that the pitter-patter of footfalls reverberated from all around us at all hours. They weren''t close, but they didn''t have to be for the sound to carry.


    There was a haunting melody to the echo of the Ratlings scurrying throughout the cave.


    The skittering of claws on the rocks below was conducted as if part of an orchestra. It was like music played out by the falls of Ratling feet. Even Laurence was on edge.


    It struck me then what the markings on the walls were. It was musical notation, albeit not a notation that I was familiar with.


    I couldn''t even imagine the sheer complexity of managing this many performers at once.


    The Ratlings were using music not just as entertainment, but as a method of communication and navigation as well. It was as if the entire story of their species played out according to a song. The symphony of their footfalls played out frantically. It was frenzied, frenetic. It reminded me of Flight of the Bumblebee, only with claws and squeaks for instruments.


    This¡­ performance alone had put rest to the idea that the Ratlings had no culture. I wasn''t certain of what culture they had. It wasn''t possible to stop and ask them. None of them could talk in a language that we spoke. That didn''t change the obvious. They had writing, they made tools and they certainly had music.


    The sounds we were hearing were far too organized to be anything except deliberate.


    It made me feel sick. What could the Ratlings create if they weren''t almost entirely consumed by their hunger?


    I distracted myself from thinking about it by focusing on a bigger problem.


    My largest concern at the moment was the growing sense of hunger all around me. The closer we approached the plains to the north, the stronger that it became. It had seeped into the world. Worse, it was definitely intelligent. I had expected to overwrite its influence with my own. That was not what had happened. The hunger had retreated instead. It pulled back wherever it was that I happened to approach.


    There was a mind behind this monstrosity. A force that I believed couldn''t be anything except malevolent.


    We had rounded another bend when I felt something huge enter the edge of my range.


    "Stop!" I whispered out stiffly.


    Nobody ignored my advice.


    "What is it, Taylor?" Laurence asked.


    My daughter, remained entirely subdued. She had been for a while. I suspected that the totality of what the Ratlings truly were had finally occurred to her.


    "I can feel something up ahead. Something huge and hungry."


    "You''re sure about what you sense?"


    "I am."


    Laurence immediately sped up.


    A few more turns inside the caverns, and the cave opened up into an absolutely massive chamber. Sisyphus came to a halt behind us. I moved closer to him and tugged on his reins gently, but he refused to move.


    Odd.


    He was a trained warhorse, it was not normal for him to flinch. I tugged harder. He flicked his dappled ears at me dismissively, then nipped at the air near my hand with his teeth.


    I pulled my hand back quickly and glared at the horse. He snorted at me.


    There was loud crunching coming from the room behind me.


    I turned around once more.


    It took a while for my eyes to adjust. Light spilled in from above. The ceiling of the cavern broke through to the surface. It was breathtaking. Rows of unevenly spaced jagged red crystals extending upwards like a forest of alien trees towards the sky. Glyphs had been inscribed into them. They reverberated, resonating with the melody played out by the clamouring of rats throughout the cave.


    I was about to take a step into the chamber when Laurence''s left arm shot out in front of me and barred the way.


    She had already drawn her sword and pointed with the end of it.


    I followed the direction of the blade as it glinted against the light of my orb.


    At the other end of the room was an absolutely monstrous pile of something that slowly shifted from side to side. At first, I thought it was just a part of the environment. A massive boulder over a hundred feet tall sitting in the middle of an open clearing further ahead.


    It was hard to make out the shape past the dense jungle of scarlet.


    It was only after taking a moment to re-evaluate what I saw that I realized it was a gigantic horned rat. Despite remaining more or less in place, it was moving its lower body rhythmically on the opposite end of the cavern. Moving, as if it was dancing to the music that the other Ratlings were playing out. Bones littered the floor beneath it. Bones that had been picked clinically clean.


    "Taylor, Yvette, stay out of it until I give the signal." Laurence whispered urgently.


    She had started to back away. My daughter and I did so as well.


    "No being reckless. Don''t think with the dick you don''t have. The signal is-" the Saint''s voice cut off.


    The Horned Lord''s head turned ponderously towards us. The body of a smaller rat was stuck between enormous yellowed teeth.


    Two large red eyes blinked.


    Two large red eyes that were now facing our way.

 Ingress 4.02

    "Better odds of killing a Horned Lord than finding a Southern name on the Farewell Stones."


    ¡ª Lycaonese saying.


    <hr>


    Before any of us could think, let alone speak, the Horned Lord reached out with one of its claws and struck three times against one of the red crystal trees growing throughout the cave.


    Fast!


    Two giant red orbs started to cloud over.


    "Long was the shadow of time before at last the lay of the bet was revealed," the giant rat started to sing.


    It wasn''t singing in words, so much as it was imparting meaning into Creation itself. The understanding just slipped insidiously inside my head. I knew the words that I was hearing were not what it was saying, so much as what it wanted me to know.


    The meaning was conveyed rapidly, far faster than if it was actually speaking with sound.


    Its eyes cleared up once more.


    A high-pitched keening noise reverberated, and the rhythm of footfalls echoing throughout the cave changed as it did so. It became more ominous. It was as if I could almost feel a dark monster breathing down my neck. I felt a thread of narrative try to tie itself around all three of us as the note rang out. I severed it aggressively.


    That did not prevent the gale force wind that came hurtling towards us from somewhere within the densely packed forest of rocks. I reached out and stilled it. Part of a tree near us vanished as I did so, and the remains toppled at our feet.


    "Stay out of its reach, kids, try to keep it restrained from a distance!" Laurence dashed forward as she shouted our way.


    Yvette started chanting under her breath. I grabbed her, myself and our horse in a bubble with a flat floor for us to stand on and floated us up into the air. Sisyphus glared at me balefully. Tough. The ground was dangerous, and none of us except Laurence had any reason to engage this beast in a close combat fight.


    Laurence ducked beneath a crystal tree, then swung her blade and cut through another. Unfortunately, there wasn''t anything I could do to assist her directly. I couldn''t layer her in a shield or teleport her out of harm''s way.


    Her own nature was antithetical to my own, and immediately broke whatever I tried to do to her.


    I was limited to helping Yvette, and attacking the Ratling.


    "Hunger wagered that by returning from many to one, the curse would nullify," the mountain of fur continued.


    The giant rat stiffened, then ran its claws along three more crystals and took two steps backwards. Fifty feet travelled in under a heartbeat. The wail of a banshee echoed throughout the cave. The early onset of a headache hit me, and I aggressively stilled the air once more.


    I reached towards the giant rat. I was making the attempt to directly snuff its life out. It was unlikely to work. The hunger within the smaller Ratlings fought back viciously, and this Ratling was far larger. I''d be regretting not trying it later on if it could have worked, and I didn''t make the attempt.


    It didn''t work, but that wasn''t unexpected. What was unexpected was the reason for why. It wasn''t just the hungering presence I felt fighting back against me. It was as if there was a larger presence elsewhere connected to it. The malevolent force wasn''t willing to release this beast.


    I doubted it would release the Horned Lord unless existentially threatened.


    Tentatively, I considered what would happen if I tried forcing it with my grace. One phantom, no, not enough. The hunger would just force more of itself into the beast in order to fight back. Two, same answer. Three, four¡­ I ran through the numbers and had gone all the way up to seven before I reached a conclusion.


    I wasn''t so sure.


    And that was a problem.


    Laurence sliced horizontally through the air and then started running on the piece that she had carved out. The distance between her and her foe was swallowed in moments. Her blade came down, the beast tilted slightly to one side, her blade struck the ground instead.


    I focused and vaporized one of the crystals, creating an illusion directly in front of the creature''s eyes and ears. It would have been better if I could influence its senses directly, but the ravenous presence fought back against it. I was buying time while I considered whether I was willing to take the risk of sacrificing some of my spectres.


    A massive paw swung ponderously towards Laurence. She ducked underneath.


    The giant rat took two steps back. Yvette''s muttering petered out and a bolt of lightning descended from the sky. It struck where the Horned Lord had stood only moments before. Small chunks of rock flew from the bolt''s point of collision. The beast struck another note on one of his trees. The chunks changed course.


    A few of them landed before the Saint.


    Laurence tripped and rolled.


    A paw descended to the position the Saint would occupy. Once more, I felt the callings of a song tug at my senses. Frowning, I severed them and vanished another crystal tree. A barrier of light materialized between Laurence and the Horned Lord. Its paw passed straight through it, slowing for no more than a heartbeat.


    I could feel the beast''s irritation as I did so.


    That heartbeat was enough for Laurence to escape the monstrous paw. She scrambled back onto her feet on the far side of the arena.


    The beast''s eyes clouded over once more. Once again, it started to sing.


    "The Star Seekers held to it that Hunger would return to beasts while sealed."


    Everything was happening so fast. I barely had time to think.


    Music. Music is important to it.


    The illusion I had created was evidently not doing anything. The Horned Lord was navigating perfectly despite being trapped within the sights, smells, and sounds of a make believe garden maze.


    The Ratling started to dance around the central podium and strike a multitude of crystals. It was fast, faster than I could blink, covering hundreds of feet and thousands of notes in the span of only a few moments.


    I vaporized another tree, this time I deliberately created discordant noise within the arena. A riotous din rang out in a continuous loop. It didn''t take much effort to do, and I was able to attempt a few other esoteric attacks at the same time. Unsurprisingly, much like trying to kill it, I couldn''t overwhelm it with emotions. The hunger wouldn''t allow me to interfere with its body at all. The Ratling''s head swung my way as the cacophony rang out, and it glared at me.


    Well, that''s effective.


    The Horned Lord reached down swiftly and picked up a massive cylindrical red crystal lying beside its feet with one clawed paw. It turned and struck a last note with it, then turned its gaze back to Laurence. The noise I had only just created harmonized with the rest of the Ratling''s composition.


    ¡­ Not as effective as I thought.


    It was as if it had known what I would do in advance.


    Laurence had sprinted closer. The tail of the Ratling swung her way. She anticipated the attack and leaped, sliced forward and running on the air towards it.


    Its left clawed paw scraped along the ground below her. An unholy shriek resounded, before a cloud of dust billowed around upwards. The beast took two steps to the right. Laurence followed. She swung once more.


    The claw continued towards Laurence. It was about to smash into her from below, and I was not certain if she could survive the impact. Desperately, I created a cushion between her and the approaching hand.


    She was still hurled far up into the sunlit air high above.


    How does it respond to a projectile attack?


    I sent an actinic beam its way. Despite having been somewhere else moments before, the rod it was holding in its right paw was suddenly between the Ratling and the beam. It was as if that was how events were always intended to proceed.


    The light was deflected towards my daughter. I felt a harmony call to me. I broke the call of the song once more, then I vanished my own working.


    ¡­ I was strongly starting to suspect the Ratling had some form of precognition or reality warping, and it wasn''t weak either.


    The Ratling''s eyes began to cloud over once again.


    "The tyrant marched, the Tumult was conceived, and soon the truth was learned." The Horned Lord took five thunderous, hasty steps to its left. Over a hundred feet disappeared in moments, and struck against two more of the giant crystals with its rod. They rang out like gongs.


    The earth trembled.


    It''s like¡­ a giant instrument.


    "Focus on breaking the crystals," I ordered rapidly, practically spitting out the lines in haste.


    My daughter started to chant once more. Her eyebrows narrowed, and she reached into her pouch, pulling out a vial, a broken cocoon and some other reagents, then levitating them into the air before her. Golden symbols traced themselves into the air before us.


    I reached out and attempted to superheat the air around the creature. The effect took. Some of its fur caught light, but the flames petered out when they reached its hide.


    Laurence fell towards the beast from above. It leaned forward at an impossible angle and whipped its tail at her. It struck, sending her hurtling up into the sky once more. She cut out with her sword, creating an angled platform in the air. Landing on it, she ran quickly and bled momentum as she angled herself in a half circle.


    The problem I had with trying to brute force this was that I couldn''t actually win, even at seven ghosts. The more I tried to force destruction, the more essence the hunger needed to invest into keeping the Ratling alive. I suspected, but didn''t know, that it wouldn''t be willing to lose that much of itself.


    If I was wrong, I would potentially be removing myself from the fight.


    If I was right, we would automatically win.


    It was a game of chicken played against the sentient embodiment of consumption, and it wasn''t one that I was certain I wanted to play.


    "The rules of reality-"


    The light in the arena flashed purple for a moment.


    I tried inverting gravity below the Horned Lord to hurl it up into the atmosphere. It moved out of the effect before I had even finished willing it into existence.


    "-Are writ as the Gods will-"


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    I was disoriented, it was as if I was tasting the sound of space. The floor below us bled yellow.


    Would trying to age the Horned Lord do anything? I doubted it. What I knew about their species suggested that they could not die to old age.


    "-Guide my hand clearly-"


    There was a melodious roar. It sounded as if the floor was talking to us. I hadn''t realized that it was even possible for stones to make those sounds. The last part of her prayer ¡ª or was it an incantation ¡ª was swallowed up in the din.


    My daughter finished her current spell and started a new one. Space warped, the central clearing stretched out while the surrounding structures were looped around to one side and compressed into a small zone.


    ¡­ She probably made a mistake somewhere because the air above the arena looked to have been turned into a pretzel. I deliberately avoided looking at the mess.


    The Ratling reached rapidly towards the compressed space containing the forest and struck more of the trees at once than it could have possibly struck otherwise. An unearthly thrum resonated through the room that quickly built into a devastating hurricane force wind. It slammed against my sphere before I had time to act and sent us careening against the far wall.


    My sphere bounced, and Yvette''s previous spell broke. Space rebounded into its original shape.


    I tried vanishing part of the ground below the Ratling to trip it, but it had already propelled itself into the air.


    It was as if everything occurring had been orchestrated.


    The largest issue was that I could feel it constantly trying to tie us in a performance of some kind. It took active effort on my part to sever that effect. There was nothing I could do to avert that if I was removed from the fight.


    The rhythm of Ratling feet on stone within the distant tunnels changed once more.


    "And he declared: ''Neither the Star Seekers nor the Hunger deserved to claim the win.''" Less than fifteen heartbeats had passed since it last spoke.


    "Shut up and die screaming," Laurence called out from up in the air.


    Despite the¡­boisterousness of her declaration, I could tell that she was beginning to flag under heavy exertion. Both of them were moving at speeds far beyond human. It was hard for my eyes to even follow what was occurring whenever they clashed.


    The Horned Lord threw the crystal in its right hand. It hurtled through the air and struck a chunk of rubble from the lightning. The chunk bounced, rung out another note on a tree, then rebounded up into the air.


    It flew towards Laurence and struck her on the arm, just slightly deflecting the aim of her blade as she tried for another strike. The Rat''s head moved and its ears twitched. Laurence''s blade missed by a hair''s breadth.


    The rod ricocheted off three walls before coming to rest back in the creature''s palm once more.


    This is complete bullshit.


    How was a hulking mass over a hundred feet tall evading attacks?


    I decided that it wasn''t worth the risk of attempting brute force. If the malignant hunger didn''t play the role of the coward, then the Horned Lord would definitely win the fight that followed in the aftermath.


    I had only heartbeats to cushion the blow before the Ratling jerked forward abruptly and headbutted Laurence in mid-air with the shorter of its two antlers. She hurtled towards the ground. I vanished some crystals and created a massive pillow for her to land in, saving her a second time.


    Feathers flew everywhere.


    The arena was a mess of them.


    Laurence righted herself and started to sprint towards the Horned Lord.


    My daughter''s spell finished. A black sphere materialized around us briefly, before a significant portion of the surrounding forest transmuted into a grey fog. The fog rippled around us for one moment, before billowing towards the creature.


    The wind from the tunnels slammed into the fog, sending it hurting towards us.


    I didn''t know what it did, but I wasn''t willing to find out. It vanished, and a phantom went with it.


    Time slowed within the arena. Literally, not figuratively. I couldn''t keep up with the pace that the fight was unfolding at. I suspected that only Laurence could. This way, I actually had time to think and aim with any precision. The effect wouldn''t last for long, maybe two hundred heartbeats of real time at most, but that was forever in a fight like this one.


    Yvette huffed, her cheeks puffing out. She looked as frustrated as I felt. Muttering under her breath, a new spell started to take shape.


    The problem with trying to fight a Horned Lord is that it was almost impossible to find out more about them in advance. They attacked so infrequently that there were literally over centuries long periods where nobody saw them and records of what they could do were sparse. Heroes were the only ones who ever engaged them, and apparently they were useless at record taking. My only real source of reliable information on them had been Laurence, and what she had told me about the Eater was completely inapplicable to whichever Horned Lord this was.


    I was betting on the Tumult, if only because the incredibly vague and cryptic descriptions people gave of the others didn''t really fit.


    Since I was essentially confronting an enemy where all the information I had been provided on it was useless, I would be using anti-warlock tactics against the Horned Lord. It was a different enemy, but the same principles applied. Direct attacks would not work, but indirect ones just might.


    Experimentally, I tried to kill it by changing various laws of reality around it. If I was trying to achieve a specific result, I likely would have had a very tough time. I simply didn''t know enough about the laws of Creation to achieve specific ends. Fortunately, I wasn''t particularly fussy. I didn''t need to know exactly what I was doing to the laws of Creation, so long as the end result was inimical to life inside the demarcated region.


    I''d seen some extremely grizzly deaths when experimenting with this against regular Ratlings. What typically happened was a great deal of nothing until suddenly the Ratling died almost instantaneously.


    I focused on concepts that I wanted to modify, then spun them like a spinning top. Hopefully, one of the outcomes ended up being fatal. I started by changing the boiling point of liquids, then by attempting to making it so that air could not be breathed. When neither of those worked, I tried other ideas. Each time, the giant Ratling either moved out of the affected area preemptively or was unaffected by the rule that I changed.


    This Horned Lord was significantly hardier than I would have expected, even considering the tales that people told.


    "For he had found his fate unjust, a doom that certainly hadn''t been unearned." A rumbling began to echo deeper in the tunnels.


    The tempo picked up. The pace of the music grew even more frenzied. If I didn''t know any better, I would swear that there was a Ratling playing a violin deeper in the tunnels.


    A rumble of footsteps from behind us. I turned just before a snarling Ancient One slammed into my bubble. We were sent flying off before I seized our momentum once more and held us in place.


    I vanished the Ancient One with some effort, then looked further back. Hordes of snarling Ratlings were approaching from behind. They were pouring out of the many holes in the walls.


    I focused on the region the horde approached from and changed the boiling point of blood within it. For just a heartbeat, blood would evaporate at a significantly lower temperature. There was no reason not to be indiscriminate here. Everything in my line of sight was hostile.


    They died messy deaths as all of their blood vaporized.


    I aggressively started to reshape the walls of the arena, cutting their point of entry off.


    The walls shook. Claws struck against my hastily razed barrier. The Ratlings were doing what they could to undermine my defence.


    The music became more discordant. I heard the earth tremor as the Horned Lord ran and worked to fix the noise.


    Laurence and the Horned Lord started another exchange. It would shift its bulk each time the sword was swung in such a way that her attacks only narrowly missed. The ground trembled as it moved.


    Even in a field of slowed time, those two are moving ludicrously fast.


    I started to experiment with attacks once more while I thought. I''d already attempted changing many of the rules of reality to kill it, and that hadn''t worked out. Could I kill it within those laws? Electricity and directed beams of light were avoided preemptively. I even tried direct imprisonment. Despite having a solid block of titanium materialize around it, the damn thing still broke out in mere moments.


    Increasing the effect of gravity within the region did nothing to the Horned Lord. It just shrugged it off. I was starting to realize exactly what it would take to kill the Ratling. I would need to use something both indiscriminate and exceedingly lethal, to the point where I risked hurting my allies in the process.


    With each piece of the massive instrument around us that vanished, the song that the creature kept trying to tie us to became slightly more discordant. It took more effort for the Ratling to correct my interference, and the disapproval that I sensed from it grew.


    It was going to take using more finite resources to end its life.


    Whatever I do is going to have to be unavoidable.


    Laurence and the Ratling continued to trade blows. Despite how fluid both of their motions were, I had to save Laurence more than once. It was as if¡­ She was listening to whatever the Ratling was doing and being manipulated by it. Her grace was actively working against her.


    "Laurence, stop listening to it. It''s playing you!" I shouted out.


    The chanting from beside me grew louder.


    What about that song?


    Could I¡­ change something this fundamental about Creation entirely?


    That song seemed to be a tool it relied on heavily. A tool that it kept trying to subvert us with.


    I also suspected it was something far more fundamental about Creation than rules like gravity or space. Those were suggestions that even sorcerers modified. This felt like trying to tell the narrative to sit down and be quiet.


    My second spectre vanished, and parts of the exotic instrument went with it. It worked. The song no longer existed within the confines of the arena. Air was still there, vibrations within matter occurred, even sounds still existed, but the song just didn''t happen. It didn''t happen because I didn''t want it to.


    The working was exhausting, and I realized I would not be able to maintain it for long, but immediately I noticed the difference.


    Laurence was an excellent swordswoman, even without her Grace guiding her. Now that she was no longer being manipulated, the fight became much more even. The first of her blows landed, although I was certain it was by accident.


    The Horned Lord brought its rod down to crush her, and she moved aside nimbly, then carved through it with her blade. A fragment of it bounced off of the floor and embedded itself in the Ratlings'' right eye.


    It reeled backwards.


    My vision started to darken.


    The Saint ran closer and took off one of its toes in the moment of vulnerability. She attempted to take off a leg as well, but lost the opportunity. The Ratling recovered too fast.


    I sat down on the floor of my bubble. It felt like I had been running non-stop for a week.


    Unfortunately, this working was not sustainable at all. The world really did not like me interfering with whatever this song was. Reluctantly, I released it. That didn''t mean I was out of options. There was more than one way for me to prevent the Horned Lord from manipulating it.


    What do I want to turn the instrument into?


    The Horned Lord completely ignored Laurence for once and leaped directly towards my bubble instead. I threw the bubble away hastily, ending up near where we had arrived to begin with. Both of my passengers let out cries of surprise as I did so.


    I released my temporal interference as well. There was no point in maintaining it now that the Horned Lord had left the effected area. What was left to try? I decided to take my own earlier advice to Yvette. A ghost disappeared. The rest of the instrument vanished.


    I felt a flare of barely restrained fury and the deepest hunger I could possibly imagine from the creature.


    My daughter''s vocalization started to reach its conclusion.


    "Creation is a canvas


    And I hold the brush-"


    Not this again.


    I''d excuse her given the circumstances.


    My repurposing of the instrument started to materialize. I was imbuing the air surrounding the Horned Lord with Fl¨¦chette''s power. The intent was for the air to collapse inwards and annihilate the creature a heartbeat after it completed.


    I had been worried it would pull out something I couldn''t react to before in retaliation, and hadn''t wanted to try it until all other options had been exhausted.


    The Ratling''s eyes started to cloud over once more.


    "Neither Hunger nor a return to madness appealed-"


    A smothering force slammed into all of us. My latest working shattered, as well as all the other effects I was currently sustaining. We started to fall out of the air. I tried to suspend us all once more, but it was like grabbing at smoke.


    "-he would struggle and suppress the din."


    Its eyes cleared up as we began to fall.


    Yvette''s concentration lapsed, and her spell fizzled out. The entire arena turned a neon pink for one moment, before fading back to normal. There was a thunderous detonation as all the air around where the Ratling and Laurence fought seemed to vanish for a moment.


    How was Laurence even still alive?


    Her blade rose up to meet the descending shockwave and sliced right through it.


    "I can''t reach for my magic!" Yvette wailed from beside me.


    I fumbled against the world. The amount of effort it took was frustrating. It felt like my senses of the world were muted, like I was looking through a dense fog and trying to make out the shapes on the other side.


    Sweat beaded my brow. I settled for what would usually be a simple solution and merely tried to slow our descent. The effect barely took. Me, my daughter and our horse slowly descended.


    A massive paw slammed repeatedly into the ground far away from us.


    Once.


    The ground trembled.


    Twice.


    The ground cracked.


    Thrice.


    The floor fell in.


    Almost in slow motion, a shard of shrapnel flew towards me. It was the broken remains of the crystal tree below us. I tried to reach out, I tried to do anything.


    I was not nearly fast enough.


    Not even a heartbeat later, it slammed into me and I blacked out.

 Ingress 4.0a

    ¡°I never denied that I am what I eat. It was only by embracing my nature that my problems went away.¡±


    ¨C Dread Empress Sanguinia I, the Gourmet


    <hr>


    He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song rolled over once more and dreamed. As he dreamed, he contemplated the Song of Renewal.


    The rendition begins, as it always does, and as it will in the repetitions to come.


    The season of whistling wind through newly blossomed grass arrives, and with it the song of fang and claw has crested its all consuming crescendo. All that remains is for the excess rabble of notes to rouse and run ¡ª run to the lands of the deaf meat on two legs that does not suffer the song of starvation.


    And so it comes to pass, as it always does, that He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song gave the call once more. The baton rises, the baton falls, swishing from side to side. The thrum beckons, the music calls, the rabble rouses and runs. Up, up, up the peaks they climb, down into the gobbling maw that swallows the sound of the song.


    Death finds the dynamics of the newly born notes. The ringing of steel culls the chattering cries of those who have only ever performed a single repetition of the riff. The fortunate few who endure the release return, spiriting away the pilfered instruments of civilization for the conductor to comb. New variations are found, new tunes are included. The performance is pruned. The notes fade out, the rendition begins once more.


    The grass has grown and now sustains while the wind continues to howl. The season of mewling cries of newly birthed notes echoes out in a diatonic scale across the hungry plains. It is marked as it always is, with the fading out of those conceived but one riff before. One tragedy released, another born anew. The song beckons, but falls on deaf ears, for history is written to repeat. With the opening of their eyes comes the gluttonous gap, the now reborn hunger blossoming within their bellies. They feed and fight and gorge on kin until only the most ravenous remain.


    The frenzy terminates. The endless appetite demands satiation, but there is none to be found. Bereft of nourishment, the newly born notes find themselves adrift. With no other recourse, they finally answer the calling of the song. For the song croons to them, empty whispers of a belly filled, sustenance that they lack. Instruments are raised, the enactment is joined.


    The rapid alternation of paws on the plains enters the eternal orchestra. It¡¯s time at last! Their performance begins! ¡°Where does it start?¡± the cries call out. Why, at the only place it could. Near the edge of the fathomless maw of salt and sweat that swallows the dying light of the golden tyrant above.


    The symphony soars, the music beckons, round the stage and to the east they go.


    Deaf meat on four legs grows sparse, the tempo increases.


    Bellies of softer notes begin to swell. At long last, the season of shrivelling grass and waning light arrives. The rise and fall of paws on hungry plains follow a trail perpendicular to that of the tyrant glaring above. The song beckons, the orchestra follows, each note an essential part of the story recited in full.


    Down, down, down towards the lands where melody dies but sound never rests. Near, but never in. To enter is folly, a lesson hard learned. A lapse once committed, never to be repeated. For the Song remembers all. Even the silence of retired notes captures a tale in their absence. The rabble listens, the rabble records, and round the stage they run.


    Hunger, all encompassing hunger, scours the lands of those unfairly cursed. The season of grasping wants unfulfilled arrives. It lays claim to many of the notes in the rabble. It rises and quiets their music from the song. Adjustments are made, notes need to be reshuffled. Melody is brought to discord and the performance transforms.


    The rabble runs like never before. Runs as if it has never felt the gnawing bite of frigid fangs down the backs of their necks. The tempo increases, the belly of the orchestra beckons ahead, the end of the repetition arrives.


    He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song records the rendition. Records and examines the music with the sharpest of ears. With each iteration refinements are found, refinements can always be found. The performance persists, the search goes on. In a rendition far off, a song to silence the call to hunger will be sung. Freedom croons from beyond the bars. Freedom from endless want.


    The season of whistling wind through newly blossomed grass arrives, and with it the song of fang and claw has crested its all consuming crescendo. All that remains is for the excess rabble of notes to rouse and run ¡ª run to the lands of the deaf meat on two legs that does not suffer the song of starvation.


    ¡°You get - easily,¡± a voice called out.


    Two notes uncalled-for had trespassed on the grounds of his theatre. Did they follow the timing he had set, or were they offbeat?


    He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song directed a phantom limb towards the first of his Rods in his sleep. He grasped towards the Rod and orchestrate answered. The voice followed the cadence of creation, but did not truly suborn it. The second was deaf to the callings of the Song, but also trespassed no further. Without needing to concern himself with his performance being interfered with, he rolled over in his sleep once more.


    And so it comes to pass, as it always does, that He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song gave the call once more. The baton rises, the baton falls, swishing from side to side. The thrum beckons, the music calls, the rabble rouses and runs. Up, up, up the peaks they climb, down into the gobbling maw that swallows the sound of the song.


    ¡°-big rat,¡± the meat on two legs exclaimed from outside his chambers.


    The viper nesting within his belly raised its head and opened its eyes. It was no longer content for him to lay his large furry snout down against the cold stone floor and retreat within the music. He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song started to wake.


    Death finds the dynamics of the newly born notes. The ringing of steel culls the chattering cries of those who have only ever performed a single repetition of the riff. The fortunate few who endure the release return, spiriting away the pilfered instruments of civilization for the conductor to comb. New variations are found, new tunes are included. The performance is pruned. The notes fade out, the rendition begins once more.


    ¡°-the Ranger-¡± the meat on two legs continued to speak, and was now without its companion. It had waltzed deeper within the bounds of his chamber. It continued to encroach, and was now much closer than it was before. He could smell its succulent scent as the meat entered into the belly of his orchestra. Two enormous ears twitched against the cold stone floor. ¡°-for you qualify.¡±


    The Song screamed out to him, the thrum of the music resonated tightly throughout his muscles and bones.


    He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song decided to dance with the meat to the Song of Conflict within the bounds of his arena. He danced, for it helped to stave off the endless monster within him. He reached towards his grand instrument and struck the rod of attunement three times, heralding the beginnings of the Song.


    His large red eyes opened, at a glance he examined the figure before him.


    The meat on two legs was small, with black fur and golden skin. It was clad in the skin of meat on four legs and plunged towards him with twin tiny blades. So small for such a tempestuous execution, not large enough to even make a dent in his freshly awakened hunger.


    The Song called to him, and he rolled his mass to the right of the arena. The ground trembled rhythmically. The blades missed, as he knew they would.


    A note of anticipation rang out in the Song. Excitement, thrill, the meat was pleased with his performance. Why did it insist on interfering with the harmony of the Song? So long as the performance repeated, the call of consumption was forever diverted, and gluttony could remain chained.


    His stomach rumbled. The aching need to eat was an ever present malaise gnawing at the edge of his thoughts. The music called, and he reached towards it, burying himself in the Song.


    How did he wish for this conflict to end? He tweaked the melody, pulling the sound of Creation as he willed. The Song would proceed as it always had, it would proceed as he willed it to.


    His leftmost arm swung ponderously towards the meat. It tried to dance aside, but to no avail. Dull tones resonated as an enormous clawed paw struck the figure, propelling it rapidly between the crimson strings of his grand instrument towards the ceiling above.


    It somersaulted as it hurtled towards the cavern rooftop opposite his place of slumber, a melody chiming out as it somehow came to rest on its own two feet, then it proceeded to leap back towards He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song. That was not unexpected, for the meat on two legs resonated with the calling of the Song. Not a single string of his grand instrument was struck in the process. At least the meat on two legs was not interfering with the instruments of his craft.


    While it could undoubtedly hear the symphony playing out, he could sense that it was unable to orchestrate it.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song rose to his full height, no longer resting on the floor below.


    Two pointy fangpicks came hurtling towards his left eye from above. Tension mounted. He tilted his head to the tune of evasion that had already been set five notes before. The flying food performed a pirouette in mid-air as it found that its performance missed the mark. A note of surprise rang out. It rapidly sheathed its blades and drew a bow. Two arrows swiftly found their place against the string, then arced their way in the air towards him.


    A paw raised, a missile struck, clanging as it was deflected by claws harder than steel. A step back, then another, the ground rumbled and the harsh beat of metal against claws was offset. The melody must be maintained.


    The hunger within him roared through his blood. It whispered to him sweetly, the same lies it always told. He started to salivate, his addiction called. Why did the meat on two legs never learn to leave him be?


    ¡°Not what I was expecting from a rat called Tumult.¡± It spoke to a tune of discord and disharmony. A claw outstretched, a scarlet string plucked, the dissonance was corrected once more.


    The clawing, all consuming need to gorge himself rose up within. The compulsion, the obsession, the desire that He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song struggled desperately to tame.


    If the food hungered to trade harmonies, then he would bestow upon it the dirge that it surely deserved.


    Bite off the bone, suck the marrow. Gnaw, rend, chew, slice. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat.


    Another arrow was loosed and yet, despite his girth, the arrow flew wide. It flew wide, for that was the tune that He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song chose to orchestrate. If the meat desired a performance, then a performance was what it would receive.


    ¡°Aeons ere even the echo of the first recitation of the Song.


    Two melodious voices traded harmonies in dawn¡¯s waning light.


    Hunger inquired: ¡®The end comes to all, what is there to prolong?¡¯


    The Star Seekers rejoined: ¡®All have not spoken, the deaf have the right.¡¯¡±


    His voice resonated outwards, reverberating between the strings of his grand instrument. The instrument responded. A gale slammed into the meat on two legs, sending it hurtling towards his descending paw as it swung down in harmony with the world. The meat grabbed at the approaching limb and redirected its momentum through the gap between two claws, narrowly avoiding being pulped into the floor.


    ¡°He was right, you are interesting.¡± The dissonance in the food¡¯s voice interfered with his composition. For meat that was not deaf to the Song, the manner in which it vandalized his music could only be deliberate.


    A twinge of irritation struck him in the interval.


    Two steps left, and a chord is struck. The interference is accounted for.


    ¡°Finding their voices to be discordant, their great harmonies did clash.


    Hunger turned its malevolent gluttony towards the city of mirrored glass.


    The Star Seekers spawned a scheme ere all that lingered was ash.


    A desperate strategy to suborn Hunger during the moment of its trespass.¡±


    Another projectile chimed its approach, warning him long before it blurred its way towards his head. The clicking of his fangs colliding arrested its progress, he reached out once more, following another attempt at containing the food. The food leapt nimbly past his paws, and the thump of its feet heralded its arrival on the outside of his knuckles. It balanced precariously on foot alone while stabbing down at his paws with an arrow grasped in the hand not holding the bow.


    The Song thrummed, and He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song rolled his paws to the side, intending to squash the food on two legs beneath. Laughter rang out melodiously as it proceeded to dance away from his blow.


    A tune of surprise. That accompaniment had not been accounted for in the Song.


    ¡°Ah,¡± the meat on two legs said. ¡°Feisty. End of the monologue it is then.¡±


    His irritation bled through into his dance. He sang not to monologue or entertain, but merely to cling to his sanity for a few notes longer. He was not like He-who-Embraced-the-Call-to-Eat, he did not wish to submerge himself entirely within the Song of Feasting. Once, many seasons past, he had tried to share song with the meat on two legs, only he could not restrain his own Hunger.


    The memory forced him to stifle the Song of Resentment once more.


    Drink the blood. Gorge on the flesh. Chew on the eyes and crunch down on the knuckles.


    His vision started to darken once more, the hunger trying to poison his mind. Sleep, sleep was the only escape, but sleep did not easily come. He had to eat. He needed to eat, to gorge himself until he passed out from overconsumption. It was the only release this madness had. It was his only way out. He reached for his music, his Song, his reprieve, desperately trying to divert his thoughts.


    ¡°Their partner in song joined the performance, they sang of binding and chains.


    The Star Seekers declared: ¡®Hunger shall be shackled to the will of the beasts.¡¯


    All but seven and one fell, the edict transfigured lands into vast, empty plains.


    Hunger rejoined: ¡®And so shall I return, following on from the grandest of feasts.¡¯¡±


    Two more arrows headed his way. He tried to knock them aside once more. This time, their place in the rhythm was even harder to subvert. The Song deviated further.


    ¡°So that¡¯s how you¡¯re doing it,¡± the meat on two legs mused.


    He rolled over, intending to tenderize the food with his bulk alone. It was what the Song called for next. The cavern trembled under his weight. The meat on two legs darted backwards, this time hiding itself inside his grand instrument.


    Once again, he climbed swiftly to his paws.


    Sliced or chunky. Raw or cooked. Chew the flesh. Gnaw the bones. Begin the feast. Don¡¯t stop, don¡¯t think, just eat.


    Hunger¡¯s crooning called to him. The crunching of fangs into flesh, the sound as blood is slurped down his throat, the crunching of bone underfoot. Scrabbling, he reached to his Song once more.


    ¡°Many times, the golden tyrant chased the song of its partner across the sky.


    Long was the shadow of time before at last the lay of the bet was revealed.


    Hunger wagered that by returning from many to one, the curse would nullify.


    The Star Seekers held to it that Hunger would return to beasts while sealed.¡±


    Another gale sent her tumbling out. Three strums of the string ¡ª another arrow headed his way. His tail swung and struck it by the shaft, deflecting the projectile out of the air. Another gay laugh from the food below him. A few more exchanges were had.


    The ringing of a blade drawn pre-empted the food¡¯s decision to move closer.


    His paw came down once more, the meat on two legs pranced to the right, then stabbed down into the leathery surface of his skin. A discordant note, the blade pierced through, and he felt the welling of blood. The sizzling notes of acid thrummed in the melody, poison echoed along the edge of the blade. His eyes narrowed. How had it landed a blow?


    The poison in his veins burned his concentration, a misstep, the Song began to decay. Adjustments would need to be made.


    He listened carefully, listened to the sound of his orchestra.


    The meat on two legs started to scale one of his lower limbs, stabbing down with poisoned blades as it continued its ascent. His paw swung down like a pendulum, only for it to leap from the leg to an arm and resumed its run across a new range.


    He danced rapidly from side to side, trying to shake his foe. It danced with him, matching him beat for beat as it scaled his hardened limbs. His other paw rose with the rise of the tempo, swinging towards the food scaling his arms. It jumped and grabbed his thumb as it descended, pivoting around it in the air. He reached out once more and the grand instrument chimed, sound rippling towards the food in a gale. The meat on two legs released his thumb, and rotated in the wind as it whistled towards his face, not disturbed at all.


    ¡°Not much left to transcend. Think I¡¯ll take a trophy,¡± the meat taunted as it rose in the air.


    The notes all struck wrong, the tempo was off. How had it broken the call of his music?


    The food was learning from his performance. It was discovering how to mimic his song. The meat on two legs was a fraud, a talentless hack, with no skill save that which it found in those that it stole from. Fury and indignation arose, the meat on two legs did not have the right to plagiarize his masterpiece. The food conducted the orchestra with less skill and finesse than He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song did in the interval between the first and second thousand revisions of the Song. A lesson would have to be taught.


    The next part of their duet began.


    ¡°The tyrant marched, the Tumult was conceived, and soon the truth was learned.


    And he declared: ¡®Neither the Star-¡±


    His snout stung as the meat with two legs drove home a blade upon collision with it. His paws rose with the tempo, but not fast enough. The food repositioned, swiftly sprinting up the bridge of his snout, then leaped towards his antlers. A slice of the blade and a chunk fell off.


    The meat with two legs let out a whoop and caught the piece it stole.


    ¡°-Seekers nor the Hunger deserved to claim the win.¡¯


    For he had found his fate unjust, a doom that certainly hadn¡¯t been unearned.


    Neither Hunger nor a return to madness appealed, he would struggle and suppress the din.¡±


    But the meat on two legs did not stagger, as he believed that it should. Instead, it pivoted in the air and its blade rung out once more. A slice, a cut, and the Song screamed as it found the stillness cut off.


    The meat on two legs landed deftly, then turned towards him and bowed.


    ¡°Maybe some other time,¡± it declared cheerily, then sprinted towards the walls.


    He-who-Subverts-Starvation-with-the-Symphony-of-Song began to give chase, but to his mounting frustration found that he was too slow.


    The meat on two legs disappeared into the tunnels.


    He needed to start the Song of War quickly. It would take much to quell the riot in his belly. Song of War then Song of Feast. Only then could rest come once-


    The red mist swallowed him. His belly needed to be filled.

 Ingress 4.03

    ¡°And so Triumphant warned: ¡®Servants of stillness, bound by chains not of your own making, know now the doom that encroaches. No unearthly scavengers shall give rise to your corpse. Even memories of your civilizations will long be ground to dust before I have had my fill. Understand what it is that you face. Kneel, or be utterly annihilated.''¡±


    ¡ª Extract from the Scroll of Dominion, twenty-fourth of the Secret Histories of Praes


    <hr>


    Dark.


    Dark all around me.


    I couldn¡¯t see. Couldn¡¯t hear. Couldn¡¯t feel.


    I tried to open my mouth, then realized that I didn¡¯t have one. I tried to reach up with my hands, then discovered that I didn¡¯t have any of those either.


    What¡­ what¡¯s going on? Am I dead?


    To my senses, the world had become the kind of absence I felt when trying to remember what my own face looked like twenty years in the past.


    I knew that I would be feeling the onset of a panic attack if I had a body to experience one.


    How long had I been in this state? Were the others alive?


    I felt the angels bury me in a hug.


    It was the only emotion that I could feel at all.


    The only impression of the world that remained to me was the vague inhuman sense that I had gained upon arriving at Calernia. Not that it helped me much. It was as if I was trying to judge what was happening on the opposite side of the ocean by the vibrations in the water of a local river.


    Was everybody dead? I didn¡¯t feel cold, or hot, or anything else. Instead, I had an almost clinical understanding that this situation wasn¡¯t right. I knew that I should be feeling panic, isolation, loneliness, and a whole host of other feelings. Rather than experiencing them, it was like reading the names of the emotions off of a list on a page.


    That knowledge, more than anything else, was unnerving in how not unnerving it was.


    There were louder silences at funerals. The sense of nothingness was all encompassing. I had no idea how much time had passed at all since my defeat.


    I attempted to reach out and change the world. My will found no purchase. I tried again and again. I should have felt anger, frustration, and fear. Instead, I felt nothing. If I could breathe, I would have been hyperventilating.


    I had known in theory that I could survive my body being destroyed. Roland, Max and I had speculated on it in the past, and it certainly made sense with the information we had at the time. I hadn¡¯t wanted to ever put it to the test, but this was certainly confirmation enough. I didn¡¯t know how I was still able to think. While knowing the answer might have been fascinating in other circumstances, right now I couldn¡¯t even muster the curiosity to properly care about it.


    Could I recreate my body? It wasn¡¯t as if I didn¡¯t know it intimately. I prepared to make the attempt. I started to reach out and try to impose my will on the world.


    Nothing. It was like grabbing at smoke.


    I focused and tried again. Once more, I was met with no success.


    What does this mean?


    I had almost certainly blacked out before¡­ discorporating. I wasn¡¯t willing to call this dying. Not having a body but still being alive was normal, and it wasn¡¯t as if anyone could tell me otherwise.


    I lost awareness for some time, which meant that I couldn¡¯t influence the world as a direct result. I didn¡¯t know how long it had been since then, but it hadn¡¯t been a full week.


    Laurence and Yvette could be dead.


    No, no, they weren¡¯t dead and they hadn¡¯t abandoned me. I wasn¡¯t willing or able to believe that. They were somewhere nearby, and I just needed to find them.


    Find them¡­ without any real senses other than a diluted sense of self.


    No, that wasn¡¯t accurate. In fact, I could immediately tell that Laurence was alive and with me. I would have noticed sooner, if I wasn¡¯t so stuck in trying to make sense of my own circumstances. I could feel the sword, the infinitely sharp blade cutting into a part of me. It was positioned almost adjacent to the centre of where I was.


    Gods Above, I presume that I hate that I can¡¯t hate this.


    She was still uncomfortable for me to be around. I wanted to be glad. It seemed that at least my sense of danger hadn¡¯t been entirely stripped away along with everything else. She was a sword, a sword that cut through everything. The absence where she stood was far more noticeable than it was usually without other senses to distract me. For once, it was what I imagined should be a relief. I was reminded that I was not alone.


    What else could I find?


    I could feel the Ratlings. There were so, so many of them. I had been vaguely aware of them in the background before, but with no other sense to pay attention to, they were far easier to focus on. The Horned Lord was still around. At least, I thought it was the Horned Lord. There was a giant ravening maw of Hunger far above Laurence that was busy consuming smaller expressions of the same essential concept. The Horned Lord¡¯s bundle of consumption grew an infinitesimal amount with each Ratling it devoured.


    Was that it, or was there more?


    With nothing else to distract me, the movement of the smaller Ratlings was almost mesmerizing. They ran back and forth frantically through a complicated tunnel system dug into the ground in patterns that were pleasing to the eye. It was as if I was observing the Ratlings orchestrate a grand performance to the benefit of no audience. One that spanned an area larger than my entire range.


    It struck me then that I couldn¡¯t even see a fraction of it. I wasn¡¯t certain of how enormous it truly was.


    Could I do anything to help Laurence and my daughter? I needed some way to remain useful. I required a purpose, else I wasn¡¯t sure that I would still be sane by the time I was able to influence Creation once more. Actually, was that even true?


    No.


    It was just something that I was telling myself because it seemed like the kind of thing that I would believe in other circumstances.


    On reflection, I was convinced that I could remain like this forever and not find any problem with it, if only because I didn¡¯t have the capacity to feel otherwise. I wouldn¡¯t become mad, because I couldn¡¯t become mad. The same held true for boredom or any other emotional responses.


    That, more than anything, told me that this was a major concern. If I wanted to remain human by the time the week ended, then I needed to hold onto human-like thoughts.


    I suspected that if my Grace did not restrict my actions, my body would have immediately reformed after falling apart. Any death at all should trigger a reformation. My identity was so strongly entrenched in having a body that I couldn¡¯t imagine myself without one. Well, I couldn¡¯t until now.


    Is there anything that I can do while this restriction is in place?


    There¡­ was. Without having my senses stripped from me, I wasn¡¯t certain I would ever have been able to even contemplate it. The idea was one that I felt that I should be uncomfortable with.


    There were many opponents who had contained me during my time in my new world. The experience had always been unpleasant. I had felt as if I had been metaphysically squeezed through the holes in a cheese grater. I didn¡¯t know if I was able to do this to myself on purpose, but I was willing to make an attempt at it.


    Yvette was certainly able to detect me. Even if I hadn¡¯t taught her how to, she had spent so much time studying me that she would have figured it out on her own regardless of my help. Maybe if I changed the shape of my imprint, I would be able to communicate with her? It was worth trying. It wasn¡¯t as if there was anything else that I could attempt to do.


    Is this dangerous?


    I didn¡¯t think that it should be. It had been done to me many times before without any long-term damage. It was probable that the sense of caution that I currently didn¡¯t have would have put me off experimenting with this. I weighed the decision in my head for a while and then decided I would follow through with it. This was a choice that I didn¡¯t think I would make if I was being influenced by my emotions, but I held it to be the correct one.


    I need to restore my survival instinct as soon as possible.


    I started to experiment, I tried to pull myself inwards. At first, I couldn¡¯t figure out how to achieve the result that I wanted. It took multiple attempts before innovate started to assist. Figuring it out seemed to take longer than I would have expected, and I flinched only moments after my first success.


    That was something that I could feel. Despite not having a body, it was just as uncomfortable as I remembered that it should be.


    Do I continue through with this?


    It felt like asking myself if I should do something stupid. Wouldn¡¯t it be smarter to just leave this alone? Surely this was a danger sign? A warning not to hurt myself. The only real survival instinct that a demon as a demon would have.


    Without emotions clouding my decision-making, I didn¡¯t have any real attachment towards Laurence and Yvette, or anyone else, really. Couldn¡¯t I choose to remain like this forever? Everything would be able to continue without me. Taylor with a body would find this decision horrifying, but Taylor with a body was dead and gone. Taylor without a body was fine as is.


    No, don¡¯t think this way.


    I was about to discard the idea entirely when I paused. I couldn¡¯t trust any decisions I made without emotional context. Right now, it was as if I was divorced from reality.


    ¡°What do I do?¡±


    The words were not spoken. Instead, I thought about them in the general direction of my angelic family. I was certain that they could read my thoughts. I couldn¡¯t trust my own judgement. Being temporarily bereft of a body made me too inhuman to make any proper decisions. Ironically, that put me in a similar position to the angels. Despite that caveat, I did trust their opinion on the subject of my own sense of self.


    They would know if I was about to hurt myself, and their nature made it so that I knew through logic alone that they had to have my wellbeing in mind.


    They weren¡¯t capable of doing anything else.


    I received a strong sense of approval in response. Taking it as a sign of encouragement, I continued with my experimentation.


    It took a while from my perspective ¡ª although that didn¡¯t mean much, I had no reference for time ¡ª and the process was extremely uncomfortable, but the essence of me slowly became more concentrated. The Hunger moved to fill in the space I was vacating. I suspected that it would rush away hastily if I were to release myself once more.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    What next?


    I had compressed myself down to a much smaller shape. It wasn¡¯t something that I would have done to myself without encouragement, and it didn¡¯t really feel like any progress had been made. My family sent me another impression. This one dredged up a memory long forgotten¡­ a memory from my past.


    ¡°You will need a tether, an anchor. It can be an idea, a physical thing, a place, a person, a goal. Right now, it will not seem so important, but it will. When all is said and done, you will either be dead, and this thing will be a comfort to you in your last moments, or you will be powerful, and it will be all you have left. Decide what you will hold on to.¡±


    The circumstances weren¡¯t the same. Being stuck in this position was unlikely to make me any more powerful, but it was the context that mattered. It was apparent that my body had been my only tether to my humanity. Without a physical representation of myself to anchor my existence to, the pattern of my thoughts was starting to decay. Without the experience of humanity, I was becoming less human.


    An immeasurable amount of time later, and it occurred to me that I had a problem.


    I didn¡¯t currently have the capacity to even make emotional connections to people. The Choir of Compassion was an exception to that, but not one that was helpful. I couldn¡¯t use them as an anchor, because I was trying to hold onto my humanity. As nice as the angels were, they weren¡¯t human. I would likely be the demonic expression of compassion by the time I could recreate my body if I used them as a reference point. I wasn¡¯t sure what that would even mean for me, but I doubted it was a good idea.


    Was there anything wrong with being a demon of compassion? Yes, yes, there was. People are more than just a single virtue expressed, that wasn''t an acceptable outcome..


    How do I choose?


    Narrative. I had said that I would adopt Yvette. The bond between a mother and her daughter was about as strong as one could become. I hadn¡¯t imagined being in this position when I had decided to adopt her. If I had understood more of the details surrounding this specific thread of story, then I certainly would not have counted existing as a disembodied phantom for a week as being a safe story to stick myself into.


    I would need to be far more careful when evaluating stories this way in future.


    Either way, I had made that choice once as a human. I decided to make the same decision again in my current form.


    I felt surprised when I heard my daughter¡¯s voice. Then I felt surprised that I was able to feel surprise. My concentration on the task of compressing myself almost lapsed. I refocused on it for the last few moments and prevented my effort from being undone.


    ¡°-though Taylor¡¯s head is caved in, and her legs are a mess, I¡¯m certain that she¡¯s not dead. She promised she would be my ma. She promised that she wouldn¡¯t leave me, and I believe her. Besides, she¡¯s still alive, I can feel her. She isn¡¯t human like us. Just wait a little while longer, and she will be back.¡± a voice murmured.


    It was Yvette. Her voice sounded odd, like the running of water down a drain.


    With nothing else to listen to, it was easy to follow her speech. It was uncanny hearing her and being able to make out what it was that she was saying.


    I couldn¡¯t hear anyone else. I could only hear Yvette, but for now that was acceptable. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was better than the situation I was in before. All of a sudden I could feel emotions again and that was more relieving than I could possibly imagine. Reviewing my memories of the unknown amount of time since I had woken up scared me. I didn¡¯t know how long had passed since my physical demise, but it certainly wasn¡¯t long. If I had remained like that for a full week, there was no telling how alien I would have been by the end of it.


    Most of my senses were still essentially non-existent and that was terrifying, but at least I had one anchor to hold onto.


    I¡¯d do my best to¡­ live with this nightmare. I would experiment and hope I that found a way around this. There was no way that remaining in nothingness would be good for my mental health. I prayed that waiting wasn¡¯t the only way out of this.


    ¡°Just because she¡¯s not human doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯s evil. The elves exist, and they are a Good race. Think about all the good she¡¯s done, does that seem like the kind of thing an Evil person would do?¡±


    I wanted to give Yvette the biggest hug possible, if only because she might have saved my sense of humanity. It did mean that for now my ability to experience emotions was tied to her continued existence, but I could live with that.


    Actually¡­


    ¡°She¡¯s chosen by an angelic choir, and you aren¡¯t. If anything, that makes her-¡±


    There was nothing stopping me from giving Yvette a hug. The Choir of Compassion certainly hugged me plenty, and they didn¡¯t have a body for it. I scrunched myself up further.


    ¡°¡ª better than you. So, if we''re using that as a scale, she¡¯s the hero, and you¡¯re the Evil monster who doesn¡¯t do anything except judge people unfairly and swing a sword. When have you ever built anything? She helped rebuild a whole city-¡±


    I had a sense of where Yvette¡¯s body was now. The sense had appeared at about the same time as I was able to hear her talk. It was like proprioception for somebody else, except without the ability to puppet them. That was enough. With great effort, I scrunched myself up further, changing the space my essence occupied until it was roughly humanoid in appearance. Then I hugged her tightly from behind.


    ¡°¡ª oh look, ma¡¯s woken up,¡± the pitch of her voice raised and evened out. ¡°I told you that she was still alive. Can¡¯t you remake your body like you transmute everything else, then we can leave afterwards?¡±


    If I had a mouth, I would have frowned. I wasn¡¯t sure how to communicate with her.


    I couldn¡¯t talk to her. At least, I couldn¡¯t talk to her yet. Was there a way to work around that restriction? I could reshape myself. Was that good enough? She could ¡ª at least vaguely ¡ª see what I was doing. I started to reshape myself into words.


    It was much harder than I would have liked, especially because the local alphabet was different and there wasn¡¯t an equivalent for cursive. I needed to connect all my letters in a way that they were still readable. I couldn¡¯t just split myself into multiple parts.


    Can¡¯t. Limited.


    I was going to have to figure out how to¡­ not walk, but whatever my current equivalent of walking was as well. There was a lot that needed investigating once I finished catching up with the other two. I had understood on some level that I didn¡¯t need a body to move around, but until now I hadn¡¯t been forced into a position where I needed to figure it out. In the past, it had been hard to experiment with when I was distracted by every other sense at the same time.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you? I can tell that you¡¯re the same. Do you require help? I¡¯ll do my best, but this might be beyond me. I¡¯ve never transmuted the environment into a form as complicated as your body before. Please tell me you can do this on your own?¡± Yvette whined.


    I started the process of reshaping myself once again. Compared to the rate that Yvette was speaking at, this was agonizingly slow.


    ¡°Ma is perfectly safe to be around. If she wanted to be a villain, she certainly wouldn¡¯t have come up north. I don¡¯t think villains would care about how safe my magic is, either. She also wouldn¡¯t insist I go to sleep early, or be anywhere near as concerned as she is about what I have to eat.¡±


    One. Week.


    ¡°What do you require one week for? Oh, is it like when you do something hard, and then you can¡¯t change things for a while? That makes sense. How did you even mess with time anyhow? It gave me a headache just from looking at.¡±


    There had to be an easier way to communicate than this. Being superimposed on top of the world but unable to directly affect it was frustrating. How about¡­ if I did the reverse of what I was doing at the moment. I expanded once more. The further I stretched, the more relieved I felt. Then, I started to reshape the part of me closest to Yvette. I pulled parts of myself out.


    ¡°Yes, I remember your story about the Salutary Alchemist. If ma wanted to do something like that, she wouldn¡¯t need to go to nearly this much effort. I¡¯m certain she can mind control people. If we start killing everyone just because of what they could do in theory if they were villains, then you would be near the top of that list.¡±


    It worked. Not only that, but it worked well. This was far better than what I was doing before. I was communicating by my absence instead of by my presence.


    Unless I find a solution, I¡¯m stuck like this for one week. I¡¯ll try to come up with a better idea. What happened? Are you safe?


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, and so is grumpy grandma over here. She¡¯s worried that you¡¯re some big evil monster who''s going to kill everyone, but that doesn¡¯t even make any sense. Unfortunately, Sisyphus didn¡¯t survive the fall, but the two of us did. Grumpy grandma caught me and then ran on air, somehow down to the ground.¡±


    Her voice was quieter now that I was less concentrated, but I could still make it out. It took a while. I needed to wait impatiently for her to finish speaking her sentence. The experience was downright bizarre.


    Be more respectful of Laurence.


    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how Laurence would respond towards being called a grumpy grandmother, but¡­ the idea left me with more than a small amount of trepidation.


    ¡°I would be polite to her, but she¡¯s been rude to you. You would think that she would realize the angels wouldn¡¯t choose you if you were Evil, especially not the Choir of Compassion. What, does she think you fooled them or something? That doesn¡¯t even make sense, if you could do something like that then you could squash us li-¡±


    Where are you?


    Best to cut her off before she says something that upsets Laurence even further. The Saint didn¡¯t like wizards at the best of times, and I didn¡¯t want my daughter to antagonize her.


    ¡°There was a big ravine below the arena that the Horned Lord dropped us into, but the roof has unfortunately sealed over since then. The Saint wants to cut her way out, but I think it''s a bad idea. What if it''s still there? It almost beat us when you were there as well.¡±


    I expanded further, stretching out to my full range. The Horned Lord was still feasting on other Ratlings. It was almost as if it had gone into some kind of Hunger possessed madness.


    I hadn¡¯t expected to feel pity for a hundred-foot tall Horned Rat. It was hard not to. The Ratling was clearly not stupid. What would it be like, being chained to a compulsion like that? Being forced to eat no matter your own desires. The Horned Lord might be a monster, but I suspected it wasn¡¯t entirely by choice.


    It helped to contextualize the Chain of Hunger. The more time I spent here, the more depressing it was to see.


    Laurence would almost certainly want to resume the fight. I didn¡¯t think it was a good idea without taking more time to prepare. The first encounter hadn¡¯t gone so well, but now we had a much better understanding of what the Ratling could do. I wasn¡¯t sure if she would be willing to put it off until I was able to help or not. Could I lie to her about this or manipulate her in some way?


    It was possible that I could, but from the perspective of stories, I suspected that it would not end well for me. The alien entity that lies to people wasn¡¯t a good story to fall into. Neither was the one that deceives people using the truth. That was just setting myself up as one of the Fae down the line. So I¡¯d tell the unvarnished truth, and hope that she would be willing to listen to reason.


    That was when I noticed the movement of many of the smaller Ratlings change. They were beginning to approach this part of the cave system.


    Compressing myself once more, I started to speak to my daughter once again.


    The Horned Lord is still up there. I can¡¯t help with it at the moment. Smaller Ratlings are approaching. Can you two escape and survive long enough for me to recover before we make another attempt?


    Yvette conveyed my words to Laurence, then she repeated what Laurence said in return.


    ¡°The Saint wants to know if you can guide us out of the caverns safely. We still need to eat and drink, and we can¡¯t stay here. You can still sense all the other Ratlings, right? That means you can help find the way out of here for us.¡±


    That was a good point. I didn¡¯t know the shape of the caverns, but I didn¡¯t need to. I just needed to follow the trail of the Hunger and guide them with it. It was also a clever use of my rather limited circumstances. It would mean guiding them into trouble, but¡­ there was no avoiding trouble now.


    She doesn¡¯t trust her own senses?


    ¡°Not since the Horned Lord can manipulate them. She wants to rely on yours instead.¡±


    I can do this. Tell Laurence thank you from me. I don¡¯t like feeling helpless.


    It was nice to know that despite how much the two of them appeared to be failing at getting along, Laurence was willing to trust me. I suspected that Yvette might just be misinterpreting something that Laurence had said. The decision made no sense otherwise.


    ¡°She says it¡¯s not a problem, but she wants to have a long talk about what you are and where you came from the moment that you can.¡±


    That¡¯s fine.


    It would have to be.


    ¡°Then we¡¯re ready to go. You can lead the way, unless there is something else you want to talk about first?¡±


    Remember to take whatever supplies you can off of Sisyphus.


    ¡°We can do that.¡± she paused, she sounded uncomfortable when she resumed talking. ¡°We¡¯ll burn your body too. Is there anything else you want us to take before we leave? The Saint looks like she wants to swing her sword at something.¡±


    My daughter was far too disrespectful about the Saint of Swords.


    My Robes, my journal, and the notes I made on Ratlings. Be polite to Laurence.


    ¡°Right, so we¡¯ll take what we can, and then we¡¯ll leave. Unfortunately, some things will have to be left behind, but that isn¡¯t unexpected.¡±


    I noticed that she had declined to comment on my reproach of her poor manners. She was going to be receiving a talking to about not mouthing off dangerous people when we were in a less urgent situation.


    I stretched myself out once more, then started to feel around. It took a few moments to build a mental map of what was occurring around us before I scrunched myself back into a tighter ball.


    This way. Keep talking to me, Yvie. Don¡¯t stop.


    I was relying on her to distract me from my situation while I started to experiment. Hopefully, it would be enough. The others began to follow my directions. I hadn¡¯t wanted to learn just how inhuman I really was. Unfortunately, it seemed like I was going to have to. I was praying that there was enough for me to hold onto. I was praying that by the time I escaped the confines of my prison, I hadn¡¯t been driven insane.

 Ingress 4.04

    ¡°Time waits for nobody, not even undead abominations. It¡¯s why I have so many tiger pits, Chancellor. People talk faster when sufficiently motivated.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Revenant


    <hr>


    The first day was the easiest.


    I found the experience claustrophobic, but despite the almost total sensory deprivation, there was plenty for me to distract myself with.


    ¡°Which way do we go now, Taylor? We¡¯re at a corridor branching left and right. There is a faint wind coming from the left passage and the Saint thinks we should head that way, but she wants your confirmation.¡± Yvette asked.


    Their pace had picked up. I couldn¡¯t be entirely sure what was happening, but I suspected that they were in a hurry.


    This side. The other side leads further down.


    I pulled out my presence on the right-hand side of Yvette. It was the best way I had of communicating what I felt. Despite mentioning to Yvette that my sense of her body was the only frame of reference I had for left and right, she still kept using the words as terminology.


    I turned my attention back towards determining what I could do. Figuring out how to reposition was more complicated than I expected. I couldn¡¯t walk, or even roll around when I was like this. Instead, I moved by changing my perspective of where I should be. I needed to¡­ redefine my frame of reference for where the middle of me was mentally, then the rest of me flowed to surround that point like water moving downhill.


    It only took me a small amount of experimentation once I had worked out how to move to realize it was likely that I could move significantly faster than a human this way. The rate at which my essence poured into its new location appeared to be determined solely by the pace at which I wished it to move. However, the warning pulse from the angels told me that it was probably not a good idea to move too fast. I wasn¡¯t certain why, but I suspected it had something to do with warping my understanding of geometry and distance in the process of doing so.


    The more inhuman my perception of the world became, the harder time I would have acclimatizing to a body again later. I was limiting myself to a speed that was only a little faster than a horse as a result.


    I did receive a sense of disapproval even at that pace, but I needed some way to keep myself occupied. Exploring this shadow world was one of the few distractions that I had.


    ¡°We¡¯re approaching the surface now. Has the Tumult moved, or is it still in the same place?¡± Yvette panted.


    It¡¯s started to move.


    It had vacated its earlier position and was swiftly running out of my field of vision.


    I can¡¯t see it any more.


    ¡°Which way did it go? We need to know where we are headed. Huh, it''s surprising how far we travelled underground. We are in a valley at the edge of the mountains now, right beside a river leading onto the flat plains of the Chain of Hunger. There¡¯s grass everywhere, although that¡¯s only because it¡¯s toxic to the Ratlings. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to see over the grass even if I was sitting on Sisyphus¡¯s back. Assuming he was still alive, because he is dead now. I did tell you he¡¯s dead, right?¡±


    This side.


    ¡°So to the north, then. That makes sense. We are going to find some place safe, then make camp for a while before we begin to track the Horned Lord again.¡±


    Why not plan more?


    ¡°The Saint doesn¡¯t believe that Rhenia can sustain a protracted siege by the Tumult after seeing what it can do. She also believes that with your help, there¡¯s a very good chance of it dying in another fight. Its tools are broken, and it''s on the back foot running, she doesn¡¯t want to give it time to recover.¡±


    It would be smarter to think about this.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t have any issue with coming up with tactics to face up against it and plans to wait until you¡¯re back before engaging, but she isn¡¯t willing to let the Horned Lord run away.¡±


    I diverted my attention back towards the Ratlings while trailing behind the two of them. I was trying to understand their movements better. It was certain that their behaviour was not natural, which meant that I could figure out what was happening with enough observation.


    It gave me something to think about while I continued to experiment. I hadn¡¯t found a way to circumvent my restrictions, although I had very easily determined that most laws of nature were more like suggestions when I was in this form. Space no longer hindered me. I could freely move horizontally and vertically as if objects didn¡¯t exist. I suspected that if I unmoored myself from my daughter, my sense of time would be similarly displaced. It wasn¡¯t something that I was willing to put to the test.


    The speed that I had deteriorated at without a human connection was far too rapid for me to take chances. I didn¡¯t want to lose my humanity just to save time.


    That didn¡¯t mean this wasn¡¯t useful to know. I suspected that after this prison sentence ended I could¡­discorporate myself, move the essence of me elsewhere at a breakneck pace, and then materialise. It would be far less draining than attempting to teleport. I considered the idea of attempting to split my essence in half. A pulse of warning from my family strongly deterred that line of thought.


    ¡°Yes, I know how to fight with a weapon. Ma insisted she teach me before she gave me this knife. I¡¯m not even sure why she wanted me to have it, if someone gets close enough to attack me, I am already dead. I¡¯m perfectly fine as is, and I don¡¯t need any more teaching. Magic is good enough to defend me.¡±


    It sounded like Laurence was taking the opportunity to teach Yvette how to fight in close combat.


    Listen to Laurence.


    ¡°Fine, but only because you asked.¡± I could hear the pout.


    I pulled my presence in once more, then started to poke at her posture. She couldn¡¯t actually feel what I was doing, but it was the thought that counted.


    Stand like I taught you. Arms at the ready.


    My attention drifted back to the Chain of Hunger as Laurence and I helped Yvette out.


    I realized something about the Ratlings after a while. The ones that I believed to be on the surface were clustered into groups of three to four dozen and spread out with vast empty spaces between them. I suspected that it had something to do with their eating habits, but I wanted to know more.


    Ask Laurence about if she knows anything about Ratling behaviour outside of spring.


    ¡°She says that they usually move in a migratory pattern around the Chain of Hunger. They live in small displaced communities and carry around easily moved yurts. They feed by following other animals that exist in large herds on the plains around. The animals don¡¯t die out because after launching attacks, the Ratlings immediately stop to feast, and it takes long enough for them to eat that their prey can make an escape. She doesn¡¯t consider the information useful except in the sense that it makes it easy to plan attacks on the Ratlings if you wanted to invade the Chain of Hunger. Their migration patterns are not hard to predict. This attack is an exception.¡± Yvette paraphrased.


    That told me something. How did they keep knowledge on how to make tools? Their way of life was so violent that I could easily see knowledge being lost. That wasn¡¯t my only question. For other life to exist on the plains like this, the population of Ratlings needed to be managed in spite of their hunger. Judging by the Tumult¡¯s behaviour, there was no other way for them to have not simply eaten everything to extinction.


    Is the size of the Ratling raids the same every year?


    ¡°Not always but most of the time, yes. There¡¯s a population boom in spring, which is when the new Ratlings are born and also when the older ones which have grown in size head south and attack the Lycaonese. Laurence wants to know about your origins now.¡±


    Ask her if she¡¯s fine with waiting until I¡¯m able to talk to her myself?


    I didn¡¯t want my words to be lost in translation. This was a conversation that should be had directly. I would have let her just read through my journal, but it wasn¡¯t written in any language that Laurence spoke.


    ¡°She says she¡¯s prepared to wait, but she doesn¡¯t look very happy about it. I think she¡¯s actually not willing to wait and will ask you about it more later.¡±


    I withdrew to think more about the Ratlings. There was plenty that needed to be learned about them. I wasn¡¯t comfortable fighting them with the inadequate amounts of information about them the Lycaonese had. While it was true they were seemingly incapable of diplomacy, the idea that they had no history or culture was certainly a lie. The Lycaonese might know thousands of ways to kill and skin Ratlings, but if they ever wanted to see the Chain of Hunger resolved, then they needed to know their origin story.


    What was the cause of the Ratling¡¯s hunger? What was their reason to exist, and could that reason be changed?


    <hr>


    The second day was tolerable, but unpleasant.


    I didn''t need to sleep. That hadn¡¯t stopped my mind from hallucinating dreams in the Stygian gloom on its own. Nightmarish figures conjured from the depths of my mind, submerging me in unpleasant hellscapes of my own design.


    ¡°We have encountered an unusual number of Ratlings today. It¡¯s almost like they are tracking us somehow, and it¡¯s going to be a problem for progressing deeper into the Chain of Hunger. We¡¯ve stuck close to the river for now, but our supplies are limited. Grumpy grandma says we might have to eat Ratling soon.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t really news to me. I had done my best to help them avoid Ratlings, but it wasn¡¯t possible to avoid all of them. The pattern of their movements had shifted. More often than not, they headed directly our way.


    I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m not there.


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, ma. You did your best, and without you the two of us would have definitely died. I was the only one who was useless. Nothing I did worked,¡± her voice quivered as she spoke.


    You weren¡¯t useless. Without you, I¡¯d no longer be myself.


    ¡°But I couldn¡¯t hurt the Horned Lord. I couldn¡¯t even do much to damage the instrument. I was just a weakness holding the two of you back. Maybe you would have won without me.¡±


    I had a close friend in the past whom I lost contact with when I arrived in Creation. She didn¡¯t fight with weapons. She almost always used her wits. Before I met her, I was in a very bad place. Being a hero isn¡¯t only about having the biggest weapon, although it certainly can help. Simply helping a tormented girl survive the day can make you a hero to her. Not every act of heroism needs to be big. Just because I¡¯m trying to solve big problems doesn¡¯t make the small ones any less important. We can¡¯t solve the big problems without solving the small ones as well.


    Had I told her this story before? It was hard to keep track of what I had said already.


    My daughter hummed, and her shoulders relaxed, but she didn¡¯t say anything in response. It was good enough.


    I turned my attention back to my current project. I talked to my daughter about Lisa as I worked. What would Lisa think of me if she met me now? I liked to think she would be proud of how I had changed.


    In an effort to try to escape the confines of my prison, I had taken to trying to use magic. I hadn¡¯t had success yet, but I felt that I was making progress. There was nothing else for me to distract myself except trading stories with Yvette, and her voice was growing hoarse from overuse. I didn¡¯t want her to hurt herself on my account.


    ¡°The Saint thinks the Ratlings are tracking us from your presence.¡± Yvette interrupted me. She chose her words carefully as she spoke, it sounded like she was chewing nails. ¡°She wants me to try containing you with wards. I¡¯m not happy with this plan. I don¡¯t like the idea of trapping you like that. It¡¯s wrong. Please refuse so that I can turn her down. We can find another solution. I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    This¡­ was a big ask.


    Simply remaining trapped in nothingness was bad enough. Being imprisoned within wards on top of that was taking the unpleasantness one step further.


    I wasn¡¯t happy that the Saint had even suggested it, although I could understand her reasoning.


    I had been planning to experiment with something like this but had kept putting it off. The idea was deeply uncomfortable to me. Even knowing that Cordelia¡¯s wizards were almost certainly allies and I needed to practice against wards if I was to ever face the Warlock again hadn¡¯t been enough to overcome my distrust.


    ¡­ Let¡¯s try. I don¡¯t like this, either. Please break the wards if I ask you to.


    An indeterminate amount of time later, and it felt like I was being seized by a vice.


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    She¡¯s my daughter, she¡¯s not going to bind me. She¡¯s my daughter, she¡¯s not going to bind me. She¡¯s my daughter, she¡¯s not going to bind me.


    I repeated the words to myself like a mantra as the onset of extreme claustrophobia started to set in. Without the ability to affect the world, this was by far the most helpless I had felt since arriving in Creation.


    Please lower the wards.


    The words were formed in uneven writing on the inside of my prison. It couldn¡¯t have been longer than five hails since Yvette had first placed up a ward.


    Almost immediately, they fell away.


    I felt ashamed at myself for not being able to remain trapped like that for longer.


    ¡°Are you fine, ma? I hope I didn¡¯t hurt you. I knew this was a bad idea. You should have just said no. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a better solution than this. I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m so, so sorry.¡±


    It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m fine. Just dislike being trapped. Give me a moment and we can try again.


    I didn¡¯t like doing this, but¡­ It was something that I would need to learn to deal with.


    <hr>


    My name is Taylor Hebert. I¡¯m twenty-three years old. I¡¯m living in Creation, but five years past I lived in a different world. My father was Daniel Hebert and my mother was Annette¡­


    By the third day, the hallucinations were persistent. I had taken to reciting my life¡¯s history to myself as a form of distraction. It wasn¡¯t a perfect answer. I was haunted by nightmares of events that had already played out. My regrets manifested through broken dreams.


    I wasn¡¯t aiming for Jack. It wasn¡¯t even a consideration. Like he said, he had Gray Boy with him. The second I stepped into their sight, I was a goner.


    My bullet took Cherish in the head. Another bullet struck Screamer.


    I hesitated.


    Then I shot Aster, who was held in a Hatchet Face¡¯s arms.


    Others were nightmares of events that could have happened, but didn¡¯t.


    Tattletale had unwittingly raised the stakes for my scheme. My primary goal was to gather information on them, and here I was getting a chance to see them with their masks off. It was too good to be true, which made me wonder what kind of safeguards they had in place to protect themselves.


    I just had no idea what I would be getting into.


    The screensaver came up while I stared at the monitor with thoughts racing through my head. The words ¡®BROCKTON BAY CENTRAL LIBRARY¡¯ scrolled across the screen in varying colors.


    If I went, best case scenario, I could get enough information to turn them in. I¡¯d get mucho cred from the good guys and respect from an international celebrity. If I¡¯d judged Armsmaster right, I¡¯d get even more brownie points if I gave him the info and let him ¨C or helped him ¨C make the bust. On the flip side of the coin, the worst case scenario was that it was a trap, or they¡¯d figure out what I was doing. It would mean a fight, maybe a beating. There was an outside possibility I could get killed, but somehow that didn¡¯t concern me as much as it maybe should have. Part of the reason for my lack of concern, I think, was that the possibility existed any time I went out in costume. That, and from my interactions with them last night, I didn¡¯t get a ¡®killer¡¯ vibe from them.


    On the topic of the status quo¡­ if I didn¡¯t go, what would happen? This particular window of opportunity would likely pass, as far as being able to get the dirt on Tattletale and her gang. That was okay, as I thought on it. It was a high risk, high reward venture anyways. Taking that path would mean turning down the meet, then killing time for the rest of the afternoon, trying to avoid dwelling on the fact that I had missed two straight afternoons of classes and might, maybe, miss more. It was depressing to think about.


    There was another choice I could make. One that I realized was likely smarter. What if I contacted Armsmaster and told him about the meeting in advance? This was the perfect opportunity to set a trap for them. One where I knew the time and place. It was hedging my bets.


    I dismissed the hypothetical, pushing away the billowing fog of could have been yesteryears.


    My name is Taylor Hebert. I¡¯m twenty-three years old. I¡¯m living in Creation, but five years past I lived in a different world. My father was Daniel Hebert and my mother was Annette¡­


    Containing me had failed to yield results. The Ratlings were still tracking the other two persistently. My daughter hadn¡¯t managed to sleep much. She caught at most three to four hours of broken rest. Laurence didn¡¯t need rest. Swords didn¡¯t sleep, and neither did she.


    The only progress to come out of it is an improvement to my daughter¡¯s wards. They were nowhere near as good as the Warlocks, and there was plenty for me to criticize.


    I made another attempt at trying to cast a spell. All of a sudden, I felt something. It was different from when I usually changed the world. Instead of telling it what to do, it was like to¡­talk to it persuasively. Convince it that it should follow my orders with words instead of forcing it to do what I wanted through brute force alone. Then, once Creation had bought my propaganda, I simply needed to close my grip. Eagerly, I tried to cast the most basic of spells.


    ¡°Stop, stop, stop! You¡¯ve done something nearby, and it looks like uncontrollable magic. I don¡¯t think experimenting like that is safe, and neither does Laurence. I¡¯m sweating from the afternoon heat already, and I don¡¯t want to sweat from worrying about what you just might do.¡±


    The nightmares are bad. I¡¯m looking for a way out. Don¡¯t think being here is good for me.


    ¡°It¡¯s safer for me to talk more to you, even if it hurts my voice.¡± My daughter rasped. ¡°Please stop ma. I know that it isn¡¯t fair, but I¡¯m asking anyway. Laurence is twitchier than the grass around here. It waves back and forth in the wind. It¡¯s kind of calming to watch. Swish, swish, swish. Calming. Just be calm, like the grass. Tell me about what you sense around us. That helps to distract you, right?¡±


    I took her advice and reached around us, trying to make sense of the phantom world. More ghosts haunted the edges of my mind.


    The smaller Ratlings are moving towards you again from the south and southeast. It¡¯s uncanny. I think that it''s all orchestrated by the Horned Lord. He¡¯s trying to wear you down. If his range is this big, then he¡¯s probably responsible for the entire species. It means that the normal spring raids are a part of whatever plan he has.


    ¡°There¡¯s this rhyme in Rhenia about the Horned Lords. They call the Tumult a tyrant, so it would make sense if he¡¯s in charge of everything. I wonder what the other Horned Lords do? The Eater doesn¡¯t sound very interesting, but what about the Skein? It¡¯s such an odd name.¡±


    I don¡¯t know. There is this ever present Hunger around us. It grows stronger the further north we travel.


    ¡°Then let¡¯s talk more about tactics. That always distracts you. How do you think we should try to fight the Horned Lord? Laurence still believes that whatever you did when you cut off the song is our best chance. She wants to set a trap and bait it into an enclosed environment, then have you cut its abilities off. I think you should summon an angel on the Chain of Hunger and let them sort it out.¡±


    What Laurence wants is effective, but I can¡¯t do that long enough to be reliable. I want to try to fight it at range first. There are some indiscriminate attacks I couldn¡¯t risk before because I might hit one of you two. Ideally, I¡¯d like to try hiding us from its senses and then attack repeatedly from stealth. We don¡¯t want to give it the chance to suppress us again. There isn¡¯t a reason to engage it fairly at all.


    I didn¡¯t comment on the viability of summoning angels. Summoning them in anything except the most extreme of circumstances felt blasphemous to me. I wasn¡¯t willing to call down an angel short of the end of the world.


    ¡°How about poisoning it? You can make food easily and if you drive up its hunger it should be easy to put it in a state where it can¡¯t resist the compulsion to eat poisoned food. Then we could kill it while it¡¯s weakened.¡±


    I don¡¯t think it would work. The Ratlings don¡¯t eat the grass on the plains, regardless of how hungry they grow. They likely have some defence mechanism against consuming fatal foods.


    ¡°Then how about¡­¡±


    We kept trading ideas back and forth as the other two continued onwards. It was not nearly as effective a distraction as I¡¯d have hoped it to be.


    <hr>


    My name is Taylor Hebert. I¡¯m twenty-three years old. I¡¯m living in Creation, but five years past I lived in a different world. My father was Daniel Hebert and my mother was Annette¡­


    I was becoming desperate by the fourth day. Despite the request of both my daughter and the Saint, I was seriously considering trying to use magic again. I could always move away from the group and experiment elsewhere, right?


    The angels had been there for me, and providing emotional support, but that wasn¡¯t enough to drive back the darkness.


    ¡°You thought Jack had a thinker power. Why? What?¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°Because he¡¯s like Weaver. He reacts like someone that is way too aware of what¡¯s going on.¡±


    Acts like me?


    I¡¯d made the comparison myself, but I¡¯d tempered that, held back as I formed that conclusion. Hearing it in such a blunt way stung as much as a slap in the face.


    I pushed back against the vision, fought back against memories of my past self. It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t believe that I could last through this. I knew that I could. It was more that I knew how bad this was for my mental state. I¡¯d spent years putting the puzzle that was my life back together. I didn¡¯t want to have to do that again.


    My name is Taylor Hebert. I¡¯m twenty-three years old. I¡¯m living in Creation, but five years past I lived in a different world. My father was Daniel Hebert and my mother was Annette¡­


    It wasn¡¯t just memories of Earth Bet, either. Most of the time I was haunted by losses on Creation. The Revolution and the burning of Liesse featured heavily in my mind.


    The sound was distant, coming from down a narrow alley beside the tavern. We wouldn¡¯t have even noticed it if not for the song. Looking, I spotted a run-down building with a sign on the outside. It took a couple of heartbeats to read it, with my vision spinning the way it was. Happy Endings. It looked like the kind of place that Roland would probably be visiting in a day or two to find out more about the auction. I wasn¡¯t too keen on staying somewhere like it, but everywhere else had been full.


    ¡°Let¡¯s check it, Taylor?¡± Max said.


    ¡°Not going to make the joke about the kinds of happy endings they offer?¡±


    ¡°Not the right time.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like the idea of staying in the maybe brothel, but it was better than returning to Roland empty-handed or staggering around like this much longer. Perhaps we could pay the bard with the money we were saving on rent to shut up. The noise was almost as grating as the feeling at the back of my head.


    Staring into the abyss this long wasn¡¯t sustainable. If it wasn¡¯t for the hallucinations, I¡¯d be fine. Possibly. Another three days like this, and I wasn¡¯t sure that I would be the same person coming out the other side. I¡¯d be scarred in both new and old ways. With very little except my own thoughts to occupy me, there were plenty of monsters to haunt my conscience.


    I turned my attention back towards the small bundles of hunger moving within my range.


    I wondered what Ratlings dreamed of. Maybe freedom from their hunger? How about their next meal? I imagined that I could almost see those dreams tied loosely to them, drifting up into the fathomless void around me.


    ¡°I think that fire roasted Ratling tastes better than grilled Ratling. Not that I like either of them. I wish ma was with us. Then we could eat real food. Why are we eating Ratling anyhow? I know there are other animals around. Just because they¡¯re hard to find doesn¡¯t mean we shouldn¡¯t make the effort. It can¡¯t be that hard to track other creatures in this sea of grass.¡±


    What about Laurence and my daughter? Laurence¡¯s dreams were probably something simple. She wanted everything evil to die. Swing the sword. Off with their heads! Yes, that was Laurence. Yvette¡­ wanted to make me proud. I was sure of it. That was her dream, to make her mother proud of her.


    I needed a way to escape from this non-existence. It was haunting, torturous. I felt pity for anyone having to endure something similar. Finding new ways to distract myself was becoming more and more difficult.


    What were my options? I could try to solve this by myself. Try to find an answer with magic. I didn¡¯t think anyone except me even considered that an option. Was there anything else I could do? Talking to my daughter, prayer, and support from my family were helping. They weren¡¯t helping enough.


    I wanted to remain stable in three days time. I wanted to be happy, to not shudder whenever I¡¯m left alone in a dark room. There was no reason to suffer just for the sake of endurance. If there was a way out of this, I¡¯d take it.


    ¡°Is there anything else you can do to help me?¡±


    I directed the question towards my family.


    A sense of commiseration along with the usual feeling of compassion came to me. There was nothing they could do to me without fundamentally changing who I was. The answer was frustrating, but not unexpected.


    I was about to fly away and start experimenting on my own once more when a calm reassurance came from them again. They wanted me to have faith in myself, to trust that I could hold out like this. I had the sense that they believed I would be able to manage. That I should confront my fears, because I would come out the other side better from the experience.


    The idea terrified me.


    This was in many ways my worst nightmare. I was trapped in a dark place with no way out.


    A stinging feeling on the skin at the back of my neck was the first thing I felt upon waking up. Next, came the odour. Pungent, oily, the smell of unwashed bodies. I wrinkled my nose. It must have been a prank of some sort, but for a prank, this was really going too far. I would need to tell Grace this was¡­


    A slap to my face sent me tumbling to the ground. I opened my eyes. A man was standing over me. He said some words in a language I didn¡¯t understand. His tone was harsh, angry. I took a second to assess the situation. I was naked, there was a man standing over me, he held a heated brand in one hand.


    There was no need to know anything else. I reached towards my bugs. My eyes widened in shock when they found none. The man had a knife on his belt. I pushed myself to my feet and made to grab at it. My blood started to boil. I staggered back in pain. The man looked at me, satisfied, and repeated the same phrase that I didn¡¯t know.


    I felt revulsion as I pushed the vision aside. Another false memory.


    Could I hold on for three more days? Was I truly able to persevere through this and remain happy with myself once I reached the other side? I knew that experimenting with magic when I had no way to perceive what I was doing was dangerous, possibly suicidal. There was no way for me to predict what the outcome of my actions would be.


    The angels thought that I could handle this. So did Laurence and Yvette.


    I shoved my attention back into the many spots that were within the essence of me. The more time I spent like this, the clearer they seemed to become. The pinpricks of hunger reminded me of the stars in the night sky, or of the swarm I had once had so very long ago.


    My name is Taylor Hebert. I¡¯m twenty-three years old. I¡¯m living in Creation, but five years past I lived in a different world. My father was Daniel Hebert and my mother was Annette¡­


    I could do this. I had to do this. Everyone that mattered thought that using magic to escape without any prior experience using it was a bad idea. They all believed in me. I would prove them right, no matter how stifling these circumstances were.


    Then day five arrived, and my dreams became surreal.

 Ingress 4.05

    Ingress 4.05


    ¡°Note: replacing the tower¡¯s cliffs with slippery slopes can be considered a partial success. The number of meddling heroes has declined, but there has been a steep increase in villainous rivals.¡±


    ¡ª Extract from the journal of Dread Emperor Malignant II


    <hr>


    ¡°You coming?¡± Cat whispered from the bed across from me.


    ¡°Course I¡¯m coming, when have I ever not followed you on your late night trips. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about a boy I saw down at the docks once we¡¯re away from the others. He looked like your type. He wasn¡¯t too tall, and he had a nice tan. I talked to him, and he said he would be there tomorrow. I think he was interested in me, but he doesn¡¯t really catch my eye, so I thought that I¡¯d see if I could arrange something.¡± I whispered back.


    My eyes needed a moment to adjust as she snuffed out our stolen candle, then stowed it away under her straw mattress. The two of us climbed out of bed and slipped on our shoes, then sneaked our way through the orphanage. I made my way confidently into the kitchen and grabbed myself a bite to eat. It wasn¡¯t as if anyone would notice me, after all. They never did. I looked down at her as Cat forced the orphanage door open, then both of us climbed up onto the roof.


    She went and stood by the edge.


    ¡°Thanks for coming, Tay,¡± she trembled as she spoke.


    Cat looked out over the edge. I walked and stood beside her. I didn¡¯t share her fear of heights, but I¡¯d help her to overcome it.


    It¡¯s what sisters did for each other.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a problem. You should come to the House of Light more often. I know you don¡¯t find it as comforting as I do and would rather spend time anywhere else, but the Legions aren¡¯t the only ones who can make a difference. Think about how many people would die without the Priests, they help just as much.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t see why I should. The priests ignore you.¡±


    ¡°Everybody ignores me. I thought you were used to that by now, Cat. I have to steal my own food from the kitchen, sort out my own bedding, find my own clothes too. It¡¯s not like the priests are special because of it. You¡¯re the only one who ever helps me out or even talks to me. That doesn¡¯t mean that none of them are good people.¡±


    She said nothing, but her shoulders stiffened.


    We had been inseparable ever since arriving at the orphanage on the same day. She had a habit of getting into trouble. I was always the one who dragged her out of it. Nobody ever seemed to pay attention to me. The only person who ever truly saw me was her. It was lonely, but at least there was one person who I could count on to always be there for me.


    ¡°Just think about it. The sisters always say that Evil fi-¡±


    ¡°Evil fighting Evil doesn¡¯t make more good. I know. You love to quote that,¡± she growled. ¡°How come you sound just like the nuns and then follow along with all my pranks?¡±


    ¡°There''s a difference between malice and harmless mischief,¡± I replied, grinning at her. ¡°Everyone gets a laugh. It doesn¡¯t matter if you sneak out late at night or filch a few coins from one of those rich Praesi pricks. Your pranks are fun and nobody gets hurt.¡±


    The idea of people actually hurting each other upset me. I saw it happen, but there was nothing I could do about it. It made me feel so helpless.


    ¡°Only because you¡¯d disapprove,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°Keep telling yourself that. One day, both of us will be heroes, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming all the way into the Light with me.¡±


    I pushed the nightmare aside.


    The hallucinations I was experiencing had changed. At this point, they were hardly tied to my life at all. That made them easier to endure. I knew that they weren¡¯t a part of who I was. They weren¡¯t me. That didn¡¯t stop them from feeling real. It felt like I was experiencing the memories of many hypothetical manifestations of myself. The only real difference being that they had all been born in Creation.


    But that was the important difference.


    It wasn¡¯t my life, and I knew that.


    So I lived through one scene after another. The visions were vivid. Not all of them were horrors. Some of them were dreams as well. That didn¡¯t make it pleasant. It didn¡¯t make this an experience I ever wanted to repeat. However, between support from the angels and Yvette¡­ I was managing. At least, that was what I was telling myself.


    Years had passed.


    The first time she had involved herself in those horrid pit matches, she had invited me to watch. I had been unable to hold back my disgust and needed to leave the audience. She had forfeited the match to comfort me. She knew that I hated violence. I didn¡¯t understand how she was able to hurt others. It was a rift that had begun to form between the two of us. I still trusted her despite that. She was my sister, she would never turn on me.


    That didn¡¯t take away the sting I felt every time she fought in the ring.


    It felt like she was forgetting me. Forgetting the bond between us.


    ¡°I keep telling you to stop fighting in those underground rings,¡± I groused at my sister. ¡°Every time you come back with bruises or broken bones. I hope that a black eye is the worst you have this time. Why can¡¯t you do something other than join the Legions. I know you believe it¡¯s the best way to temper the Praesi influence, but I keep telling you that-¡±


    ¡°-all I¡¯m doing is carving up my own soul. I know, I know,¡± she winced. ¡°Wiggle your holy fingers and fix me up already.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I glared at her.


    I had already made my way over to the table she was hunched over at the Rat¡¯s Nest. I muttered a prayer and reached towards the warmth. The Light answered. It rushed through her body, mending the injuries that she had incurred. I didn¡¯t understand how it was healing her, but I could see what was being healed.


    ¡°Two fractured bones, one black eye, plenty of bruising. Weeping Heavens, how are you even walking? How would you even live past a week if you didn¡¯t have me to save your hide?¡± I poked her in the chest as I spoke. ¡°What makes you think you will survive in the Legions? I looked up the statistics. It¡¯s not like they aren¡¯t public. One in ten people don¡¯t survive officer training, and I know that you¡¯re ambitious. You¡¯re reckless too. If you injure yourself while serving in the Legions, I can¡¯t be there to heal you.¡±


    ¡°Leyron,¡± she averted her eyes and greeted the man as he walked into the room. ¡°My apron is still under the counter?¡±


    I stifled the rest of my rant. Later, it could wait until later. Right when I told her the good news. I hadn¡¯t told anyone yet, not that I could. Spreading the word would be a bad idea. She was the only person that I trusted enough. It was convenient that she was also the only person able to remember me. I¡¯d sworn off violence. To my surprise, my oath had been accepted. Even now, I could feel my choosing. It was hard for me not to feel reverence whenever I thought of the angels. Reverence and melancholy. They had seen fit to bless me with their favour.


    I was the Forgotten Priestess.


    As the vision faded, I frowned. Why was the name Catherine familiar? I swept over the dusty cobwebs of my mind, trying to recall where I had heard the name before. It took me a few moments before I realized why the girl seemed so familiar. I had encountered a girl named Catherine back in Laure who looked just like her. Did she really make that much of an impression on me?


    I doubted it.


    A pit of snakes started to writhe in my phantom belly.


    ¡°Do you want me to try to pull you out of there with magic, ma? I know it¡¯s risky, but I don¡¯t want you to be hurt. The place you¡¯re stuck in sounds real bad. We¡¯ve reached an oddity in the landscape. There¡¯s this large area where nothing is growing. The ground is scarred as far as the eye can see. Laurence said she¡¯s never been here before. It looks like the result of a magical cataclysm of some kind.¡± Her words were slurred. I didn¡¯t think that she was getting enough sleep.


    It was tempting to give her permission. The false promise of freedom called to me. It sang honeyed words laced with a poison so sweet that I wanted to drink it.


    Leave me. It¡¯s not worth the risk.


    I denied my daughter¡¯s request. It was more for her safety than my own. I didn¡¯t think that she could hurt me, but she could hurt Laurence or herself. She was far too fatigued to attempt anything complicated.


    I was no longer drifting about the dream world and exploring on my own. I had anchored myself to my daughter instead. When she moved, I moved with her. It helped to retain my hold on reality.


    Today would be my last day among the living.


    But that was okay.


    I stood on the Gallows, beside my fellow victims. There must have been around fifty of us together. Thirty feet away from us stood the Black Knight and my sister. In other circumstances, he would never make a mistake like this. Never dare to make his apprentice stand witness to the murder of her own sister. It was unfortunate for him that I was different. I was the one who was always forgotten, always looked over.


    It was ironic. I could have just walked off the gallows. Walked away and almost nobody would see me. I wasn¡¯t willing to do that. My sister was falling. Falling, and she didn¡¯t even see it happening. She had been there for me all those years. She had been my lighthouse out on a stormy sea. So I would be her light, just this once. I¡¯d drag her kicking and screaming out of the darkness.


    ¡°I¡¯m scared,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°It will be over quick, lass,¡± one of my compatriots consoled.


    I hadn¡¯t been talking to him. It was funny. Now that I was at the end of my rope, those who stood beside me saw me just fine.


    The angels blanketed me.


    It was a kindness of sorts. A last moment¡¯s reprieve before my thread was cut loose.


    Cat had never come back to the orphanage that day. When I went looking and found out that she was seen in the presence of the Black Knight, I knew that something was wrong. If there was an easier way of doing this, a better way, I would have taken it. There wasn¡¯t. I knew Cat. I knew her better than anyone else. She was content to carve up her own soul one piece at a time, so long as the slivers were small enough. If I wanted to save her, then I¡¯d need to make the price so long that she wouldn¡¯t ever be able to pay back the cost.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The green-eyed monster and my sister turned my way. Her eyes widened when they met my own. She tried to do something, to speak out against him.


    ¡°Stop,¡± the word rang out across the Court of Swords.


    My feet dropped. Something snapped.


    I couldn¡¯t speak my last words, couldn¡¯t say what it was that I needed to say. Instead, they rang out within the confines of my own mind. I hoped that this would be enough, that this would expunge the poison that had taken root so deeply within her. That she would go on to be the hero that I knew she should be.


    Remember.


    A knife came up and plunged towards the Black Knight¡¯s neck. It was the last thing that I saw, before being swallowed by darkness.


    It was Catherine, I was certain of it. Was this her future? Was she destined to become a villain? No, these visions weren¡¯t real. That series of events couldn¡¯t possibly play out, because I had never been Taylor Foundling to begin with. I hoped that I hadn¡¯t failed Catherine by turning away from her. If I had run into her today, I would have taken her with me instead. I felt more confident in myself.


    While quests into the wilderness like this one would not make for a good home life, I felt they were the exception and not something to be expected. My Name wasn¡¯t one that answered the call to adventure. Most of my time would be spent labouring on reforming nations. Ideally, the process would be peaceful, but I wasn¡¯t that naive. That didn¡¯t change the fact that as far as heroic stories went, it was still one where I could afford to raise children. I could even avoid an early grave if I was able to thread the needle.


    Was there anything else to be learned from that vision?


    Yes. I could recall what holding the Light felt like. I could remember what it was like to truly have faith. It¡­ wasn¡¯t that different to what I felt already. Was I truly religious? I didn¡¯t feel that way, but maybe¡­ maybe I was. If I wasn¡¯t, then I was certainly close to finding faith. I definitely didn¡¯t share my alternate self¡¯s thoughts on violence or self-sacrifice. Violence was necessary sometimes, and I was done with throwing away my life. It was something that a child thought would fix problems, when it only created new ones. But faith? Maybe I did have room for it in my life after all.


    I¡¯d need to think over the idea more, when I wasn¡¯t being constantly assailed by new illusory horrors.


    Without much else to do, I had taken to personifying different slivers of hunger that wormed their way through my presence. I took the time to imagine what their lives had been like, living out on this broken plain. It might have just been the early onset of insanity, but I liked to think that they were starting to become distinct to me. It was almost as if I could reach out and wave ephemeral fingers through the smoke of their story.


    <hr>


    Day six came, and the dreams that swallowed me no longer featured alternate versions of me in them at all. That didn¡¯t mean there were no inferences that could be drawn. They were all stories that shared some of the same themes as the tale of my life. Many of them featured one sister being betrayed by another. Visions of someone called Alexis were particularly unpleasant in their familiarity. I didn¡¯t know if she was a real person or not. I didn¡¯t know if anything I saw was more than just the fabrications of a now deranged mind. That didn¡¯t stop the glass slivers of her memories from cutting me up inside as they made their way down my throat.


    ¡°Finish your drink, Zain,¡± Tasia Sahelian admonished.


    I looked up at her unblinking golden eyes. I was full, but I didn¡¯t dare to question her about this. Much like when my cradle-sister used to get into trouble before she grew older, it would only see me switched. Finishing my meal, I left the room. I started to make my way to my cot. My sister followed beside me. I was not normally allowed to visit. Akua had earned permission by excelling in her lessons.


    ¡°Where are you heading, Zain?¡± my sister tugged at my arm. ¡°You promised you would watch the theatre troupe staging Tyranny of the Sun with me.¡±


    ¡°Sleep, Akua.¡± I mumbled to her, my eyes half lidded as I walked. ¡°Tired.¡±


    ¡°Fine, but I expect you to keep up with my lessons.¡± she gave me the pout that only I ever got to see.


    That wouldn¡¯t be happening, as much as she wished it.


    I smiled in as I said goodnight. I trailed my hands along the wall as I stumbled my way towards sleep.


    The room I stayed in wasn¡¯t anything special. I had earned more than my rivals on account of my wits. I wouldn¡¯t be sacrificed for grain rituals this year. Not that I felt clever next to my sister. She was the real genius and she knew it. I was feeling drowsier than expected. My eyes closed almost as soon as I finished lying down.


    Crack!


    ¡°-purs of greatness are never gentle,¡± a voice murmured.


    It sounded like I was trying to listen to a conversation taking place on the other side of the Wolof markets.


    My eyes opened slowly. The room I was in was dark. The stone ceiling was spinning. Why were all the colours changing? Something was wrong. Two golden orbs moved in. They blocked off my view.


    I shivered.


    The face in front of me resolved itself into my sister. Akua? I tried to open my mouth. My lips wouldn¡¯t move. I tried lifting my hands. They crept upwards. I reached towards her for reassurance.


    Another cracking noise resounded.


    What was happening?


    My sister reached towards me. She was shaking as much as I was. I felt something wet fall on my cheeks, then a sharp stinging in my neck. I tried to speak again, but gurgled instead. Cold, everything was so cold.


    The hallucination vanished. It had been far more unpleasant than many of the others. I knew how awful Praesi culture was from second-hand accounts, I didn¡¯t need experience with it myself.


    There was plenty that I did not need to experience.


    Was there a lesson to be drawn from these dreams? Was there some secret to be learned? There must be. I didn¡¯t believe that Creation would throw visions at me without some purpose behind them.


    These weren¡¯t the same as the dreams that plagued me on my travels. That didn¡¯t mean that they were entirely meaningless, even if none of them were recollections of real events.


    If it wasn¡¯t from the themes repeating, then maybe it was from the actors themselves? I didn¡¯t know any of the people involved, but I did know the name Sahelian. They were one of the more important factions in Praes.


    I turned my attention back to my surroundings.


    When I looked at the Ratlings moving within my range, it felt as if I could reach out and see their dreams formed into the shape of trees. The inky blackness seemed to resolve into the branches of trees, infinitely dividing upwards into eternity. I tried to follow them, to see where the limbs led to.


    Hunger. Hunger stretching forward and backward, repeating over and over again. No end in sight, and a beginning far beyond my capacity to find. But what did the Ratlings want, bereft of their curse? Was there an answer?


    The smoke figures disappeared on me once more.


    ¡°The Ratlings have been relentless without the grass to hide in,¡± Yvette rasped. ¡°I think coming further into the Chain of Hunger was a mistake. We should have waited until you were back.¡±


    Don¡¯t talk. It¡¯s okay. Everything will be okay.


    I hated that there wasn¡¯t more I could do to comfort her.


    I was starting to worry more about Laurence and my daughter than I was worrying about myself.


    The claustrophobia was starting to fade. Not because the situation was pleasant, but because I knew now that I would never fall victim to the same tragedy. This wasn¡¯t the same as the locker. I had friends and family. There were people who were with me who wouldn¡¯t abandon me. People that I could draw strength from.


    It wasn¡¯t that I hadn¡¯t believed that before, but having it proven to me counted for more.


    There was no doubt in my mind that I would never have to face my demons alone again.


    <hr>


    ¡°Come sister, come look!¡± my brother tugged at my worn cotton tunic.


    ¡°What is it?¡± I turned his way. The little brat only came up to my chest, but he was growing fast. It wouldn¡¯t be long until he had surpassed my height. I was sure of it.


    ¡°Something out on the horizon. The whole village is gathering.¡±


    I finished washing the tunic I was holding and hanged it up to dry. Then I followed behind him. We followed the path just outside our hut and down the trail towards the sea shore. The sting of salt water on my face was bracing. I stomped my way across the beach, and then spat when loose sand was blown into my face by the wind. My brother led me further, pointing towards the small crowd that was gathering on the rocks at the waterline. The rocks were slick. I chose my footing with care as I followed behind him.


    I couldn¡¯t afford to fall and slip.


    We stopped beside the others. It was not long until the shapes resolved into masts. Ships were arriving.


    The chief started to issue orders. We would prepare gifts and songs for their arrival. It was the only appropriate way to greet guests.


    The vision faded. It felt different to the others, although it was hard to articulate exactly why. The people in it were almost tribal. Was this a dream of a society on a foreign shore, one even less developed than Calernia?


    Day seven had led my thoughts even further astray. I wasn¡¯t sure if I was seeing memories of a time long past, or dreams of a distant land. What I did know is that none of them were pleasant. The world I saw was brutal, untamed. It had a wildness to it far beyond that which currently existed.


    ¡°There are large stone statues of trees everywhere. It¡¯s weird, it¡¯s like they are all frozen in time.¡± There was a long silence before she next spoke. Her next words were quiet, almost pleading. ¡°I hope you can come out to save me soon, ma. The Saint will be fine. Nothing ever seems to worry her, but I can barely stay awake. There¡¯s never time to rest. The Ratlings are always chasing us. I thought that this would be fast. This isn¡¯t like adventures in stories.¡±


    It never is. There¡¯s always problems. Complications. That¡¯s just how things are. But we will make it through. I promise.


    I ran, ran through the forest as I made my escape. Tripping against a root, I scrambled to my feet and let out a choked sob as I sprinted further into the foliage. Why were they like this? They had met our gifts and song with the fall of arrows and the ringing of blades. My brother, my father, was anyone even left? My tunic got caught in a thorn bush. Panicking, I pulled it off. Pulled it off and exposed the bruises. No, don¡¯t think about that. I looked away from myself. Looked back towards the path ahead.


    Time passed.


    I had no home. There was no place for me to call my own. I merely travelled from one land to another, sharing the story of my people. A people now broken by the tyrants from across the sea. I didn¡¯t know how long it had been. I¡¯d spent so many seasons lost in the woods that even the passage of the sun had become meaningless to me. It hadn¡¯t taken me long to discover that I was alone. I was the only one of my people left. They had killed them. They had killed all of them. It was only me. I was the only one who had survived.


    I would outlast the tyrants, I would surpass all of them. So long as I lived, I carried the story of my people with me. Never forgotten, never dying. They were a tale that would be told long after even the memories of our conquerors had faded from the whispers of the bitter sea breeze.


    My people would be remembered, so long as I remain to Wander.


    That¡­ was bleak.


    I was about to spend time contemplating the vision¡¯s contents when I felt a ravening maw enter into my range once more as my delusion died. The source was easy for me to identify. The Tumult. Unless it was a different Horned Lord, it could be nothing else. The others needed to know that it was there. I started to shape myself into a warning.


    Tell Laurence the Tumult is near.


    The figures conjured by my imagination manifested themselves once more. They appeared around that empty stomach like smoke drifting in the wind. The clouds of fog harmonized all of a sudden. In a moment of complete clarity, it crystallized like a snowflake.


    I knew what the Tumult wanted. I understood the Dream that motivated it. I examined everyone. All the figures within my range. I was confronted with a dizzying amount of information. I knew all of their deepest desires with just the briefest of glances.


    This¡­


    Without a doubt it was useful. If I had possessed this Grace in Aisne I would have had a far easier time. It was also extremely invasive.


    ¡°We both know it''s coming fast. Laurence just started fighting it and-¡±


    Her narration of events cut off. My tension began to mount. I didn¡¯t know what was happening, and I was helpless to help out. She was still there, definitely still alive. I could hear the dry rasping of her voice as she started to cast a spell.


    It was tense. I worried about both of them. Why couldn¡¯t they have waited without moving closer?


    I felt the timer tick over to a new day. My shackles vanished. With the assistance of the angels, I immediately started the process of forming a new body.


    ¡°Laurence, no!¡± my daughter called out.


    I opened my new eyes under the gentle light of the moon to see Laurence hurtling through the air.


    Before I could react, her body slammed into the fossilized remains of a tree not even a heartbeat later.

 Ingress 4.0b

    ¡°Praesi experiments have long since proven the efficacy of the power of friendship through blood magic. It is up to the individual to determine whether their allies achieve more good by their side or within the confines of a ritual circle.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Benevolent the First


    <hr>


    Roland did not like being forced to dig so deep into his reserves. The sensation it brought on was always unpleasant, it felt as if his very soul was being eaten by insects under the effect of Use.


    He cursed and ducked behind the broken remains of a castle wall as one of the creature''s seven heads narrowly avoided gouging him. He pointed the dragon oak wand upwards and fired. A narrow, powerful ray of flame erupted from the artefact¡¯s tip, scorching the gargantuan scaled head. He had acquired the rod during the time he spent in Mercantis, shortly after making his departure from Refuge.


    This would be so much easier if Taylor was still alive and with me.


    Taylor had been spirited away into Arcadia during their flight from Liesse. Roland had gone to a great deal of trouble to learn more about her fate, even so much as inquiring at Refuge after narrowly avoiding death at the hands of the Warlock. Fate had not seen fit to bless him with fair news. He had mourned then, and proceeded on under the assumption that she had fallen after their forced separation.


    The creature shrieked. Roland scrambled backwards without hesitation as it slammed its head from side to side, sending more pieces of shattered masonry flying through the air. Roland did not bother to look behind him as he climbed to his feet and began scaling a ruined stairwell. The rumbling of the thirty-foot long body tearing up the castle remains could be heard from behind him as the beast continued to follow.


    Roland swallowed a scream as one of the Hydra¡¯s heads slammed through the walls of the stairwell in front of him. He fired another scorching ray at this head, only it pulled out before Roland scored a blow. Beloved Gods, he prayed as light started to spill through the now vacant opening, for the fear of flames you laid upon these creatures, I give many thanks.


    His hand was already digging through the pouch on his belt, he fished out a small silver ring set with three moonstones and shoved it onto his finger. It was one of his few remaining artefacts from the time spent in Daoine and while the Callowan wizards of old did not have any formal school of sorcery, they were capable sorcerers as a rule. They had to be, to fight back the Praesi monsters of their time.


    His form rippled and started to blend in with his environment. It was not true invisibility, but according to legends, Hydras were half blind and relied primarily on their heightened sense of smell. That was easily countered. He reached into his pouch once more and pulled out a fragile glass vial, removed the cork, then downed the contents without a second thought. The acrid taste on his tongue was vile, but Roland was in a great deal of trouble and if the scentless concoction he had purchased in Refuge saved his hide, then he wasn¡¯t one to complain.


    The sound of the Hydra from outside the tower abruptly cut off. He remained still as it let out a stream of sibilant hisses, then began to descend the staircase once more. He had caught wind of a tale about lost artefacts that had once belonged to the Fey Enchantress, hidden away within this ruin on the outskirts of the Brocelian forest. What he had not expected was for them to be guarded by a territorial female Hydra.


    He peeked around the corner of the stairwell and watched as seven tongues darted in and out of the giant creature¡¯s mouths. The monster looked confused. Its heads swung from side to side as it tried to determine where he had gone.


    Time to search the ruins and claim my spoils.


    A roguish grin adorned Roland¡¯s face as he started to sneak from shadow to shadow deeper into the fallen fortress.


    <hr>


    ¡°Ask Taylor about her origins,¡± Laurence pressed. ¡°It¡¯s not the time for hesitation or idleness. Blindness cuts just as sharply as the truth does.¡±


    Six days in this abominable wasteland and the chase was coming to a close. She could feel the weight of the attention watching over them. Not Taylor ¡ª she felt like a cool breeze on a hot summer day ¡ª but that of the Tumult. It knew that Laurence was aware of its presence and was not cowed by that knowledge. It did not concern Laurence. This was not the first time she was tasked with killing something with a sharper ear than her own. They¡¯d gotten the measure of the beast with the first fight, so there would be no caution in how they began the second.


    ¡°Grumpy grandma is asking about where you came from again I think she¡¯s still being judgemental do you want me to tell her off I don¡¯t mind I think she¡¯s being unfair about this.¡± The kid pouted. Lines of exhaustion marred her face, the journey had not been kind to one without a choosing.


    Laurence almost slapped the kid across the face for that, although she once again pushed down the impulse. Taylor would be offended by such a gesture. It was proving challenging enough for the peace between them to be kept without the kid muddying the waters. Laurence conceded that the kind of lessons Yvette would learn at Taylor¡¯s knee wouldn¡¯t see her treading a dark path.  Laurence¡¯s first impression of the kid had been an uncharitable one. The kid idolized the other Chosen, and truth be told, Taylor was one of the better Chosen Laurence had met. Taylor understood that there was always an after once the battle was over, in spite of her young age. Not that this didn¡¯t preclude conflict between the two of them, if they faced a different enemy then they would likely be going at it like two angry wet cats in a bag.


    ¡°She said that she comes from a land so far away that it might as well be another world and that it¡¯s hard to properly explain without being here to talk herself can we drop this my voice really hurts?¡±


    The hatchet had been taken to communications ever since Taylor¡¯s demise. Yvette made for an unreliable intermediary and refused to repeat what was said back word for word. Laurence having suggested that Taylor¡¯s soul was being controlled by the Tumult, and it would be a kindness to free her, had unfortunately riled Yvette up more than a little. Villains using necromancy upon fallen enemies could be counted as more likely than the odds of a hero achieving apotheosis.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to know the sum of her life,¡± Laurence replied bluntly. ¡°It¡¯s rare for a hero to achieve godhood. Doesn¡¯t mean it never happens.¡±


    The crunch of salt underfoot was the only sound to break the silence between spoken words.


    Laurence did not have as long a view as Tariq did, but she was still canny in her own way. One could not live to her age without learning to have an eye for detail. They might have lost the first encounter badly, but now it was time for them to claw their way back up. Evil always wins at the start, but Good owned the ending.


    ¡°Then I don¡¯t understand what you want to know you act like Taylor has some dark secret that must be explained but why do we need to know about her life when we are going to be fighting a Horned Lord it¡¯s not like it helps us kill Ratlings.¡±


    ¡°Taylor comes from a land with different stories. We¡¯re facing a Horned Lord. Fighting it without knowing the lay of the stories is a sure way to die.¡±


    The creature may have bested them in their last battle, but now Laurence knew what to expect. The story was set up for Taylor to rise and offer salvation at the darkest hour. The fire had burned out, the time was ripe for her to rise from the ashes. Laurence knew better than most that now was the time that they should make haste towards where the Tumult laired in order to capitalize on the tale. What was not clear was whether Taylor¡¯s origins clouded the shape of the story. Laurence would have liked to have discussed the plan with Taylor, unfortunately, telling her would weaken the weight of it.


    There would be plenty of spirited argument once the Ratling died. That was expected. The three of them could then go on to kill another foe as a means to resolve the tension afterwards.


    ¡°The Saint wants to know about what kind of heroes and villains you had in your old homeland because she wants to understand how prepared you are for fighting against a Horned Lord I think it''s obvious that you know enough but it seems her opinion is different oh no it seems more Ratlings are coming.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t what I said, kid.¡±


    Laurence resisted the urge to slap the kid once more. Raising her palm against a hero of compassion¡¯s charge was a sure way to cause a break in their group. Regardless, if this discussion concluded before the sun set, then Laurence¡¯s sword would start speaking.


    <hr>


    Roland skulked from shadow to shadow as he made his way through the abandoned castle. He carefully poked the floor ahead of him with a rotting length of wood he had broken off from a table in one of the abandoned dining halls. The tiles below him were crumbling. It would not do for him to injure himself and fall into one of the rooms below.


    He put his foot forward after satisfying himself that his next step would not be his last, and slowly made his way across the narrow passage to the stairwell leading to the next floor up. He had come into possession of a map of the fortress before his arrival. It didn¡¯t detail the full lay of the place, but anything of value would be hidden away in the dusty corners that hadn¡¯t been put to ink.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Halfway up the stairs and he found his progress stalled. He made a hasty retreat as green growths of wood began to sprout between the cracks in the walls. It seemed as if someone had left traps behind for anyone curious enough to investigate these ruins. Still, it wasn¡¯t outside his expectations. He reached towards his dragon oak rod once more and fired off two beams at the encroaching wood.


    To Roland¡¯s disappointment, it was no use. The flames sputtered against the wood, only to peter out. Going to have to be another concoction.


    He reached into his coat and pressed his thumb onto the correct rune for the pocket dimension to present him with his collection of alchemical sundries. The coat had been a recent acquisition, taken from the possession of a corrupt Proceran magistrate. The man used it to hide the bribes he accepted for the unfair application of justice. Roland withdrew a clay ball labelled with many warnings, carefully aimed, and then tossed it at the approaching growth.


    Acidic yellow fumes billowed forth as the clay ball broke against the wood. Roland took several steps backwards, then reluctantly reached for the small orb within himself that was the sorcery that¡¯d once belonged to the Warlock. With hardly any effort at all, he shaped a barrier between himself and the mist that cordoned off half of the lower half of the stairwell. A mere sliver had been confiscated from the Warlock, only that which had been used to contain Taylor at the time. Would that he had been able to take more.


    It was another half hour before the noxious fumes had faded. The stone stairs above had been scoured clean, the detritus of ages gone in the briefest of spans. Roland finished filling his belly and made his way onto the top floor. It was not long until he found a cache of long abandoned artefacts stowed away behind a sealed door.


    He finished divesting the vault of its contents ¡ª multiple enchanted rings, three rods and a veritable trove of miscellaneous artefacts ¡ª before beginning his descent once more. Unfortunately, all but one of the many tomes contained within the vault had long since crumbled to dust. That one book looked to contain a first-hand magical treatise written by Madeline de Jolicoeur, and Roland would examine it further once he had sought a place to safely shelter.


    Finally making his exit from the fortress, Roland was greeted by a long, menacing, hiss.


    Sweat trickled Roland¡¯s brow as he dodged behind a pillar, narrowly avoiding an acidic projectile spat at him by the Hydra. In retrospect, looting the beast¡¯s lair before he ensured that it was dead hadn¡¯t been one of his brightest ideas. Fortunately, he had not been entirely bereft of his wits. It was time to close the jaws of his trap. His fingers began inching towards another artefact from his trove. The polished rod of ivory he¡¯d picked up in Helike, imbued with one of their war spells, found its way firmly into his palm.


    He leaned around the pillar and let loose the sorcery contained within the wand. A long streak of snow-white frost lashed out forward, smashing against one of the beast¡¯s heads. It reared back to strike at him once more, and he beat a hasty retreat further into the fortress.


    The beast trailed behind him, barely fitting its girth inside the ruined building. Now was the moment he took advantage of this building¡¯s state of disrepair. He reached into his pockets once more and pulled out a rod ¡ª while divesting himself of the current one ¡ª and a pair of golden rimmed spectacles. The spectacles were a niche artefact that he had come into possession of while in Mercantis. They were of Praesi make and highlighted points of structural weakness at a glance for any would-be architect. Their previous owner was an architect who had put them to nefarious ends. He would have made use of them sooner were it not for how the enchantment on them was fading and could not be easily replaced.


    Roland continued to sprint further away from the Hydra as he balanced the spectacles precariously on his nose, pressed his thumb against the activation rune, then ducked abruptly as another head hurtled towards him at speed. It collided with the wall behind him. He let out a hacking cough as clouds of dust were thrown loose. Two more gobs of acid were spat towards him. His toes clenched involuntarily in pain as the burning substance splashed loosely on his right leg.


    Roland¡¯s eyes darted over the large entrance hall. Significant portions of the structure were illuminated in red under the auspices of the artefact. His wrist flicked out and the end of the fluted wand pointed at the first target. A wreath of blinding light exploded from the end of it, before the support pillar he had aimed at crumbled. The floor above them groaned ominously. His arm extended twice more before. The groan had risen to a roar.


    Roland did not bother to look behind him, instead he limped only a few steps further, before vaulting out of a shattered window. He winced as glass remains dug into his skin. He turned to review the fruits of his labour, only to be met with the gaze of fourteen furious eyes glaring down at him from above. To his misfortune, it appeared the weight of a falling fortress was not enough to subdue his foe. His fingers twitched nervously. Hands already digging in his pockets, the dark-haired man searched for an appropriate counter when a voice rang out.


    ¡°Shine.¡±


    <hr>


    This creature, Laurence de Montfort mused, was as swift as that woman and twice as canny.


    There was no purpose to trading words with the beast. It reached over with a claw and knocked against one of the many petrified trees littering the wasteland five times. It heralded the beginnings of a new song. To its misfortune, Laurence had blocked her own ears with cloth. Laurence sprinted towards the beast, her entire withered frame coiling to put the full weight behind the blow at the end.


    Its claws swung towards her ponderously. She did not try to Listen this time, instead she relied solely on her own skill with the blade. She ducked the blow, then made to strike at the knuckles passing on the other side. Another thunderous step as the beast tried to squash her underfoot. She was already in the air, leaping forward, and aiming to place a blow against its leg.


    The beast took two steps backwards, avoiding the blow. The rhythm of its movements seemed dissonant compared to when she had first taken this beast¡¯s measure. Its single red eye was clouded over, the other nothing more than a wounded hole. The beast¡¯s mind was consumed by hunger. Laurence angled her descent to land within its blind spot. She fully intended on taking advantage of its weakness.


    Smaller Ratlings approached the battlefield, but Laurence paid them no heed. The kid could handle them just fine. A flash of light and a score of them were gone.


    Landing, Laurence moved with purpose towards the beast. The creature was fast, its tail came hurtling towards her. Laurence lashed out with her blade.


    The beast let out a shriek as its tail split in two. There was a thunderous crash somewhere in the distance as the end of the tail slammed into parts of a petrified tree. It took two enormous steps back, but Laurence refused to be baited. If she moved too far from Yvette, then she would be unable to defend her charge. Laurence would ensure that she would be the one to pay the price for victory if a toll was to be paid. The kid had a fair chance of inheriting her mother¡¯s Name in the years to come, and it was better to pass the torch to future generations than holding on to dying flames.


    Blade pointed down, Laurence waited for the beast to make its next move. It darted forwards with its claws at the ready, but the cadence of its movements was even more unbalanced with the loss of its tail. Laurence leaped up, taking a swipe towards its throat.


    This was her chance to end the beast, she felt the word forming on her shrivelled lips.


    Only for the monster to rear back, then take her from behind with the swoop of a claw. She was sent crashing into a fossilized tree.


    The beast¡¯s sole red eye had cleared.


    ¡°Laurence, no!¡±


    She let out a strangled wheeze and tried to rise, but found that her legs would not answer her.


    Then Taylor coalesced, seemingly out of naught but the wind.


    <hr>


    The return towards Aequitan would be short and pleasant, in contrast to the unpleasantness that had come before. The encounter with the Peregrine had come at the most opportune moment, saving him from an untimely demise. The kindly old man had spared him a few words of advice, before departing along the road towards the Red Snake Wall. Roland wished him fair tidings, wherever his feet ended up taking him.


    Lit torches beckoned to him in the distance, marking the village where he planned to spend the night. The road was mostly empty this late in the afternoon, and his legs protested the unfair treatment he had put them under.


    A rustle to his east caught his attention. His head turned to the right as his pace slowed to a crawl, and he saw a red haired woman in a dishevelled looking jacket sprinting towards him along the fork in the road.


    ¡°Run, there¡¯s a bloody bear after me!¡± she exclaimed.


    Pulling his dragon oak rod out of his pickets, Roland¡¯s eyebrows rose as a haggard looking brown bear followed the woman only a few heartbeats later. Three scorching beams smashed into its frame. The beast let out an angry roar as its fur caught light. It appeared that the animal would be a bit more trouble than he anticipated. He divested himself of his current rod while reaching into his pockets once more, then cautiously aimed the spiralled ash wand that he pulled forth. A long streak of chittering lightning lashed out forward, slamming into the bear.


    Staggering back, the bear let out a pained growl. Two more blasts from the fragile artefact and the creature crumpled to the ground.


    ¡°Oh hero,¡± she panted from his left, ¡°thank you for your rescue from that foul monster.¡±


    This roadside encounter looked to be shaping itself into something Taylor would have referred to as complete bullshit. The words would have been muttered under her breath in a manner that suggested she was not aware of what she was doing, but the implication remained.


    ¡°I do not believe we are acquainted.¡±


    ¡°Destiny brought us together,¡± she raised a palm to her forehead and gasped. ¡°For your lover sent me to deliver a letter into your waiting palms.¡±


    ¡°You are mistaken. I presume you have me confused with someone else.¡±


    ¡°It is most certainly you and not I that is mistaken,¡± she grinned at him, ¡°am I correct in assuming that your name is Roland?¡±


    He nodded and was about to respond when she continued to talk.


    ¡°The priestess, your one true love, is most wroth with you for having forgotten about her.¡± the girl moved in closer and slapped him across the face. ¡°She implored upon me both to deliver this correspondence to you and to see you safeguarded back to Beaumarais.¡±


    Roland blinked in surprise from the slap. His sense of trepidation grew with every word that she uttered.


    ¡°I trust that you will handle this matter with the degree of delicateness that it truly deserves.¡±


    The woman reached into her coat and withdrew a letter in a red sheaf.

 Ingress 4.06

    ¡°Chancellor, we aren¡¯t retreating, we¡¯re merely performing retrograde action.¡±


    -Dread Empress Sinistra II ¡°the Coy¡±, shortly before her death


    <hr>


    The mountain of fur took a step towards Laurence. I focused my attention on her. The world started to spin. The gentle moonlight stung my eyes. I had spent so long without the sense of sight that I was struggling to handle the ability to see.


    Laurence wasn¡¯t moving. There was something wrong with her, but I didn¡¯t have enough time to try healing her immediately in a fight this fast. I reached out with my mind towards the ground beneath Laurence and seized it, then sent it hurtling hundreds of feet in the air. The moment I could take a look at her, I¡¯d see what I could do.


    I tried to blink the spots out of my eyes. They didn¡¯t disappear. This wasn¡¯t working for me. I needed to be able to operate well enough to fight. I focused on all the light within the area and willed it to change. The world became varying shades of grey and white. That was fine. It was easier for me to handle.


    Yvette finished an incantation from beside me, and lightning leaped out of her fingertips, striking the smaller Ratlings in the distance. There was an understated bang as it arced from one Ratling to the next, then the singe of sizzling fur.


    I winced from the noise.


    Sound. Sound next.


    ¡°Eater was our eldest, the first of the five, brought forth from an age long past,¡± the giant Ratling sang.


    I whimpered. The music might have been harmonious, but it still assaulted my senses. They were completely overloaded. It was scary how my capacity to manage human senses had deteriorated in such a short amount of time.


    I muffled the area.


    That was better.


    ¡°Can you stop changing things it¡¯s making my magic go completely wild I can¡¯t account for all the changes you¡¯re making ma!¡± Yvette whispered.


    She shook one of her hands at me. It was dirty, and the fingernails were cracked.


    The Horned Lord¡¯s massive frame pivoted as it turned its attention to us. Now that I knew what its Dream was, I couldn¡¯t allow it to die. Unfortunately, it couldn¡¯t be awake either. That complicated everything. I¡¯d start with simpler ideas, before trying to modify the plan I had made to kill it. It swung a massive tree trunk of a limb our way.


    My daughter shrieked.


    I didn¡¯t even think. Suddenly, the two of us were standing somewhere else. It wasn¡¯t teleportation. Well, it was, but it also wasn¡¯t. I¡¯d just done what I¡¯d been doing for the past week. I¡¯d defined everywhere within myself as one point, then¡­ changed the colour of the point. It seemed that spending time dead had been good for something after all.


    Disoriented, I tried to take a step to my right. I wasn¡¯t facing the right way. I staggered and ate a mouthful of salty ground. The feeling of cool air against my naked skin was starting to sting as well. This was so frustrating. I was being bombarded with so much information that was no longer familiar to me. I had thought that it would be as easy as stepping back into a body. It seemed like I would need time to adjust instead. This wasn¡¯t a good time to find that out.


    I focused and my sense of touch became muted.


    There. Everything felt fine now.


    Learning to be human again was going to be a challenge. A challenge that I didn¡¯t have time for in the middle of combat.


    I climbed to my feet once more and turned unconsciously towards where I could feel the Horned Lord. My limbs were shaky and hard to use. My presence shifted to account for the rapid repositioning I had done. It felt like I was swimming in a sea of myself.


    The thump, thump of the ground from the distance followed by the colossal shape approaching marked the next round of the fight. I took a moment to reach out with my mind and turn all the smaller Ratlings into smoke. I needed to simplify, to make the situation easy enough to follow that I didn¡¯t need to worry about added complications.


    Should I just flatten the plain? I could make everything uniform. That would help me to cope.


    No, think human.


    ¡°He sated his Hunger, not knowing the cost, not knowing the doom that he courted,¡± the words echoed out in my mind from the distance.


    I cut my way through the threads of story that started to wind their way around us.


    My daughter started to mutter under her breath again. Was there a way I could put it to sleep indirectly? I could try to fill an area with an¡­ essence of lethargy. Unfortunately, I had no idea what that would be like and would cost me to do. I was sure there were modern drugs that could achieve what I wanted. Could I pull that off without paying any cost? No. I didn¡¯t know exactly how to make any of them.


    I created a persistent vacuum centred around the creature. This was dangerous, but it was the best I could think of. If it worked, it was just as likely to kill the Horned Lord as put it to sleep.


    The Horned Lord closed in once more. Its movements were unbalanced, as if it wasn¡¯t used to walking around without the assistance of a tail.


    I seized both of us, focused on the island where Laurence was, and the world shifted. The world blurred, then we were on a floating platform hundreds of feet in the air.


    Yvette yelped and released her spell prematurely. The petrified trees around us on the flying island started to return to life.


    ¡°Whassa prolem?¡± It seemed that talking was also going to take some acclimatization. I focused, then enunciated each word properly.


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡± At least, that¡¯s what I thought I said. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure, considering I had muted sounds.


    I tripped and fell.


    I hate this.


    Grimacing, I flew my way over to Laurence. I may as well just use my mind if my legs were currently beyond me.


    She had forced herself up onto her knees using her arm muscles alone, and had the point of her blade dug into the ground beside her.


    Time to see if I could heal her, while I waited to find out if my first idea for dealing with the Horned Lord worked at all.


    ¡°Broken spine, kid. Can¡¯t move my legs,¡± she spat out through gritted teeth.


    Really? Her spine was broken, and she was trying to drag herself back into the fight.


    I already knew that I couldn¡¯t just heal her the way I would heal myself. Her domain prevented it.


    That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t use magic.


    If I didn¡¯t have my Name, I would never have risked using magic to heal someone without training first. This was the first time I was going to try properly casting a spell. But with it? This was what I was supposed to be doing. I was meant to be healing people, making the world a brighter place.


    I reached out and started to sing to the world under my breath.


    Moving my lips was hard. Talking normally was something that I was no longer used to.


    My singing wasn¡¯t very good.


    It didn¡¯t matter. The angels guided my efforts. What they did made me feel nervous. They sent a sense of commiseration, along with a deep feeling of empathy.


    All of Laurence¡¯s smaller wounds were healed over. The break did not fix.


    ¡°Shrouded came second, forged in the silence, by then Eater¡¯s die was already cast.¡± The Tumult spoke.


    I severed the thread of narrative that came with it.


    ¡°Why isn¡¯t it mending?¡± I asked.


    My muscles kept clenching involuntarily.


    Being able to heal almost anything short of death had been something I had quickly become accustomed to. It was something that had always made me feel helpless in the past, and I didn¡¯t like the idea of there being something aside from death beyond my ability to heal now. I thought of myself as fulfilling the same Role as a priest, even if I wasn¡¯t one.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t surprise me.¡± Laurence¡¯s wrinkled face was bleak. ¡°Heroes and villains rarely scar. Our injuries are never permanent, unless they are dire or meaningful. Seems I¡¯m buggered.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡±


    The idea was stupid and arbitrary. It fit for stories, but I still didn¡¯t like it at all. I was certain that my abilities weren¡¯t limited by that restriction, but they also couldn¡¯t work on the Saint.


    ¡°Absolutely. If it''s part of my story, then I¡¯m stuck with it.¡±


    I felt my heart break for her just a little.


    At least my emotions still work.


    Her Dream was to be the sword that ended all evil. It was impossible, and on some level she probably knew that. She knew that there would always be some evil out there that she couldn¡¯t kill. She wanted to one day go out in a blaze of glory, leaving the world a better place in her passing.


    It was a belief that would have been incompatible with my own in a kinder world.


    This was a world where there were plenty of evils that I was happy to let her kill.


    ¡°We¡¯ll find a way for you to keep fighting,¡± I told her.


    I could see her story branch off from where we were. There were two main paths it followed. I could break her dream. I could tell her that she should live out the rest of her life unable to fight. She would become bitter and angry. Not at me, but at herself for her perceived failure. With time her Name would fade and then one day I would be able to heal her again.


    But it wouldn¡¯t matter.


    Her Name would already be gone, and she would be miserable for the rest of her days.


    ¡°I don-¡±


    ¡°Laurence. Have faith. We¡¯ll find a way.¡± I cut in.


    That wasn¡¯t what I would do. I could find a way for her to keep on fighting on the other path. She would die in battle somewhere, doing what she believed to be right. She was old. With time, age would have claimed her regardless of what I did. I didn¡¯t see anything wrong with helping her die on her own terms. It would mean finding an enemy for her that wouldn¡¯t cause more problems when dead than alive, but¡­ there were many of those in Calernia. I doubted I¡¯d even have to look hard to find one.


    Gods Above, she could die fighting legions of the dead near Keter if she wanted to. I¡¯d make the other choice if she was younger. Unfortunately, I doubted I was able to change her mind given her life experiences.


    I¡¯d give her that one last fight instead.


    It would make my own life more complicated, but that was okay. I hadn¡¯t been planning an easy life to begin with.


    Laurence started to try and drag herself towards the edge of the island again.


    This is utterly ridiculous.


    I started to reshape the island. I made sure to be subtle about it, although she would probably notice anyhow. This wasn¡¯t a fight that I was willing to let her throw her life away in.


    ¡°Is my plan working?¡± I turned to Yvette.


    She moved to the edge of the floating island and looked off.


    ¡°Suffocation isn¡¯t doing anything to it but that doesn¡¯t surprise me if something like this could be killed that easily then it would no longer be alive do you have a better idea because we need to try something else-¡± Yvette¡¯s voice cut off as she shrieked.


    A projectile smashed into the bottom of our floating island.


    ¡°The Song called out to me in the fields of starvation, it crooned while I contorted.¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I broke the effect of the Tumult¡¯s performance while seizing my momentum. Yvette nearly fell off the edge. Her hair pulled upwards as she did so. At a glance, it looked filthy. That would need to be cleaned later. My mom would come back to haunt me from the grave if I had a daughter with hair that looked like that. I caught her with a thought. Laurence remained unmoved, her grip held firmly around the blade dug into the ground.


    ¡°Careful, kids!¡±


    It took a few heartbeats for me to stabilize the island again.


    Flicker.


    The world swirled.


    I redefined myself once more, and materialised at the edge of the island. Taking a moment to assess our situation, I looked down below. I would have preferred to just walk to the edge, but that wasn¡¯t an option right now. It would probably end with me falling flat on my face.


    Maybe I should have just flown over? I was so used to moving myself by changing the demarcations of space after doing it for a week that considering alternatives felt off to me.


    The Horned Lord was below us and was in the process of uprooting another petrified tree. That was one way to attack us without appropriate reach.


    I briefly glimpsed what looked like rotating panes of glass in the distance.


    It seemed like we had found the destination for my dreams as well.


    ¡°I¡¯m taking us down.¡±


    The hard part of this would be keeping the Horned Lord alive without upsetting Laurence. I knew that I couldn¡¯t convince her to spare it, despite how much more harm killing it would do. Even just a glance at her Dream was enough to convince me that she was too stuck in her current philosophy without me deliberately shattering her Dream. It was frustrating, but it was what I had to work with.


    That meant finding some way to make her think that it was dealt with.


    I was fairly confident that I had a way to achieve that.


    I had put together a plan to remove the Horned Lord as a problem. It was an idea that could easily be adjusted to be non-lethal. There were a few fallbacks if my first attempt didn¡¯t work as well. It was time to see if my efforts paid off.


    The hard part would be the preparation.


    I needed it to try and suppress us before I chose to act. I couldn¡¯t risk relying on Persevere until afterwards, and even then, only two spectres at most.


    ¡°Why we should be safe up here you just need to keep moving the island we can keep attacking it until something works and then it will die.¡±


    ¡°We all crash if it uses its Sin again. Better for us to fight it on the ground and not risk dying to the fall.¡±


    Flicker.


    We were somewhere else again.


    My head was pounding. Not from exhaustion, but from sheer information overload. Humans weren¡¯t meant to do things like this. They weren¡¯t meant to arbitrarily respecify the properties of their own body. It was taking its toll on me.


    I rested my hand on Yvette¡¯s right shoulder to stabilize myself. It was likely that I would fall without proper support.


    ¡°¡®Twas a century ¡®fore the birth of the land of death when Snatcher finally arrived."


    A fossilized tree came hurtling towards us. I made it vanish from existence with a thought.


    ¡°Try to slow it down,¡± I ordered.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that will work, ma,¡± Yvette muttered.


    That didn¡¯t stop her from changing her focus. Brighter symbols started to trace themselves into the air.


    I focused, then made the ground between us and the Horned Lord slick. It started to sprint towards us at a breakneck pace. The distance disappeared in moments.


    Flicker.


    I threw up.


    Should I remove my capacity to feel nauseous? No, better not. Human. Think human.


    I purged the vomit from my mouth and looked around. Moving like this was disorienting, and I wasn¡¯t entirely sure where we were.


    We had landed in the middle of a dense field of grass. The Horned Lord was already in pursuit. I started to propel Laurence¡¯s island towards the edge of my range. I could have tried fleeing on it, but I doubted that the Horned Lord would allow us to escape.


    What else could I do to make this easier for me?


    Smells, I could remove those. I¡¯d acclimatize to them again later. This grass could also go. It was visually distracting.


    I removed friction from the area the Horned Lord was in. It slipped, fell, then started to slide towards us. This wasn¡¯t acceptable. Direction? Yes, that would work.


    Flicker.


    We were back in the salt plains with petrified trees.


    Yvette released another spell. Purple lights started to dance in the surrounding air. She howled in frustration.


    ¡°Stop stop stop just stop ma I can¡¯t follow what you¡¯re doing nobody can every one of my spells gets messed up this isn¡¯t normal just think about Laurence and I before you kill us all by accident please!¡±


    ¡°The Skein came not long after, and with its birth the truth was finally learned.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m struggling,¡± I admitted.


    I didn¡¯t like how inhuman I clearly was.


    ¡°Stick to doing things that the rest of us can survive I trust you I know it''s difficult but you can kill this monster without turning yourself into some kind of monster yourself.¡±


    In spite of the rest of the reprimand, her trust made me feel warm inside.


    Do I tell her what I¡¯m planning?


    Yes. If there was one person I should trust with this, it would be her.


    ¡°Do you trust me?¡±


    The Horned Lord reached the end of the zone of no friction and started to move towards us once again.


    ¡°Of course I trust you otherwise I¡¯d have asked to be assigned to someone else or just ran away.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to kill the Tumult.¡±


    The Horned Lord was the only thing keeping the Chain of Hunger from imploding. Its Dream was to escape from its hunger. It was an exceedingly detailed Dream, one that had been put together over thousands of years.


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you going to kill it look at all the people that are dying because of it-¡±


    Talking with words was too slow. If I wasn¡¯t struggling with my body, I¡¯d default to it, but right now I needed an alternative. Telepathy? No, there¡¯s no guarantee I didn¡¯t mess something up. I started to will the words I wanted to appear as lights in the air. It was faster. An easier method to communicate.


    I knew that I¡¯d need to spend time learning what it meant to be a person again after the fight. I knew that this wasn¡¯t a good decision to make. But with the limitations the fight was placing on me¡­ it was the better alternative.


    Now I just needed to hope Laurence¡¯s Listen didn¡¯t pick up our discussion from roughly a mile away.


    ¡°More people will die if we kill it,¡± the words appeared. ¡°It controls everything about the Ratlings. Their culture, their migration patterns, what tools they have, everything. It¡¯s the reason they only attack in spring. It¡¯s the reason that the Chain of Hunger doesn¡¯t run out of food. Without the Tumult, they would have no civilization at all.¡±


    The Tumult was able to distract itself from its hunger through a combination of hibernation and music. The spring raids were both its tool to cull the excess Ratlings at the end of each year, and a way for it to try to steal knowledge from the Lycaonese. Books and other tools of civilization were brought back as plunder so that it could try to engineer an escape from its torment using what it learned.


    It was still a villain, still monstrous, but it was a monster that had made itself critical to the continuation of a delicate balance until its own problem had been solved.


    Yvette¡¯s face was red with anger. ¡°Then why should we let it survive surely if we kill it then the Ratlings would collapse and there would be no more of them it¡¯s a walking disaster that should just die.¡±


    Two large petrified trees flew towards us. I demolished them.


    ¡°The Tumult tries to prevent other Horned Lords from forming. It also tries to prevent large scale attacks on Rhenia, sticking to spring raids at worst. It isn¡¯t perfect. Not just because of the spring raids. Every so often the Tumult makes a mistake and then there¡¯s a disaster. I¡¯m not saying the current situation is good, but it¡¯s better than the alternative. The Ratlings would eat the Chain of Hunger to extinction and then send constant raids south if it was dead. It was probably like that before the Tumult was born.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t even considering the worst case scenario. I wasn¡¯t entirely certain what would happen if the essence of hunger was consolidated into a single Ratling. The Tumult¡¯s dreams of it were nightmarish enough that I didn¡¯t want to give that a chance.


    That didn¡¯t mean I was happy with just accepting the way things were.


    ¡°It sounds like you¡¯re just excusing a monster and letting it get away with atrocities how many more people will die over the years in spring because you don¡¯t kill it now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. It¡¯s awful, but it buys us some time.¡±


    The gigantic furry form of the Tumult was drawing close once more.


    Flicker.


    The world twisted.


    I suppressed the urge to vomit as I fell to my knees.


    This is bad.


    There was a constant droning thrum at the back of my head.


    ¡°Time until what if you aren¡¯t planning to kill it then what could possibly make this better I don¡¯t see a solution here what do you think Laurence would say?¡±


    I forced myself to my feet. It was hard.


    ¡°Time until we can solve the problem permanently. The Ratlings don¡¯t like their hunger. They don¡¯t want it, but they can¡¯t choose to not have it. If you remove it, they all die. We can change that. Their hunger isn¡¯t natural. The Tumult only needs to live until we can find an answer to it.¡±


    What we really needed to do was find out what the source of the hunger was, then find a way to replace it. The Ratlings were not like the other Evils I had seen so far in Calernia. They were not Evil by choice. They were Evil because they had no other choice. That made them more like a natural disaster than a person. A Ratling that tried to be Good was an extinct Ratling.


    So I would try to give them a choice.


    ¡°What makes you sure that an answer can be found any time soon if nobody has found one before then it¡¯s probably not possible I think you¡¯re just letting it get away.¡±


    ¡°Yvie,¡± I spoke the words, instead of sounding them out. It took more effort than I liked. ¡°I know it''s unfair to ask you this, but do you trust your mom?¡±


    The glare she gave me was mutinous.


    ¡°You promise you¡¯re not just letting it get away and that this is a way to maybe stop the Ratlings properly?¡±


    ¡°I promise. Please don¡¯t tell Laurence.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she huffed.


    Laurence¡¯s island was as far away as I could take it. The Horned Lord was nowhere near it. It was time to lower Laurence down.


    The island started to descend.


    The Tumult drew close once more. It had stopped throwing projectiles. I suspected that it had figured out that attempting it was futile.


    Flicker.


    Everything felt¡­ off. I tried to move my right arm and my left arm moved instead. It was as if all of my bodily responses were just wrong. This was worrying. Far more concerning than the worst I had anticipated. I hadn¡¯t thought that I would have become so unfamiliar with my body in such a short time.


    This wasn¡¯t working. I wasn¡¯t making the right kinds of progress. I couldn¡¯t afford to keep running this Horned Lord in circles this way. While I could theoretically keep it up until the Tumult died of starvation, I wouldn¡¯t be a person by the end of it.


    I needed to force it to use its Sin before I retaliated. What else could I try? I knew what I wanted to do here, but it wouldn¡¯t work if the Horned Lord had an easy counter.


    It paused, cocked its head from side to side, and turn turned in the direction that Laurence was in.


    Should I reposition myself again?


    No, I¡¯d messed myself up enough already.


    But it did give me a better idea.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to deal with this. Watch over Laurence.¡±


    ¡°What ab-¡±


    I surrounded myself in a protective barrier, then moved Yvette next to Laurence. The Saint had still been trying to drag herself back into the fight. Her dogged determination reminded me of myself in a bad way.


    Finally, I redefined my own position according to the Horned Lord. I was at the centre, and it was at the edge of my range. It didn¡¯t matter where it ran, I would always be positioned relative to it.


    Then I made the edge of my range frictionless.


    Now it would never get to where it wanted to be.


    I might not be able to change the Horned Lord, but there was nothing stopping me from changing myself according to it.


    The world became a wash of greys as both of us rapidly spun around. I closed my eyes. It was better if I couldn¡¯t see what was going on. The Horned Lord kept trying to escape the prison that I had turned myself into, but found no success.


    Merciful heavens, reacclimatizing to my body was going to be a nightmare.


    Now that it couldn¡¯t cause any more trouble for me, I had a moment to think.


    Did I want to try forcing a draw? Laurence had talked about patterns of three and while that was an option, I felt confident that I could do better.


    I¡¯d try to win, but leave the possibility of a draw available as a safety net.


    I finally had the Horned Lord alone. There was plenty that I could try that wouldn¡¯t necessarily be safe around the others.


    Should I start by trying to force more of the hunger into it? It was cruel, but it would force the Tumult to sing if it wanted to maintain sanity. I needed it to act before I did. I knew that it would have a third Sin, but I was willing to bet that it was a passive one. Something like record, listen, dance or perform. It would almost certainly be something that passively helped with its performance.


    I started the process of attempting to do just that.


    ¡°Sleep forever more to suppress the curse, or feast on ourselves until the Drakon is revived.¡± The Tumult spoke, before I progressed any further.


    It seemed that my plan had paid off after all.


    All the effects I had up vanished at once.


    It felt like I was at the bottom of the ocean, with the weight of all the water pressing down from above.


    It didn¡¯t matter. Now I just prayed that my scheme paid off.


    Hopefully, I don¡¯t need to rely on backup plans.


    Two ghosts vanished.


    A skin tight bubble appeared around the Tumult. The inside of the bubble had space mapped to its current location.


    The outside¡­


    Well.


    That mapped to somewhere else that my presence leaked into. A place that I wasn¡¯t fond of, which I had just spent over a week becoming acquainted with.


    It wasn¡¯t the first place that I had considered.


    The hells had been on the top of the list, but I wasn¡¯t certain if that was a good idea. Knowing stories, a Praesi summoner would bring it back into Creation, and I wasn¡¯t keen on finding out how that ended. Arcadia had been dismissed for similar reasons.


    It worked.


    For a moment I stood and looked on in shock. I hadn¡¯t expected a plan of mine to succeed without having to rely on contingencies. Considering everything else I had thrown at the Tumult, I was certain that it would survive this.


    The Tumult stepped through my portal into nowhere in particular at all.

 Ingress 4.07

    ¡°Titans of a bygone age heed my words: Do not disdain the fruits of our labour for the forgotten remnants of a time long past. Cease this madness immediately.¡±


    ¨C Antigone Strides-Ever-Unyielding, amphore for the Chorus of the Gentle Hand, moments before the Fall.


    <hr>


    Shutting off the senses that had been briefly re-enabled by the actions of the Tumult, I took a moment to think.


    I had a few problems now that the fight was over.


    It was time for me to make progress on the first one. That was figuring out where I was.


    I opened my eyes.


    I was met with a plain of greys and blacks. A forest of petrified trees emerged from salted earth that glimmered under the moonlight. Several of them had impact markings. My protective barrier had likely done some damage to them while the Tumult had been swinging me around.


    Next problem.


    Could I move forward without losing the Horned Lord?


    I had a hunch that I could. I believed that the place which was not a place where the angels resided was dimensionless. It was my main reason for choosing to put the Horned Lord there, rather than anywhere else. It wasn¡¯t my only reason, but it was the most prevalent one. I didn¡¯t want to deposit the Horned Lord in one of the hells, only to have it wander away.


    I took a step forward and fell face-first into the salt.


    My continued inability to perform basic bodily functions frustrated me to no end. Cheeks silver, I crawled forward naked a few feet just to confirm my unfounded hypothesis.


    Even that was a challenge for me.


    Good. The Tumult still remained locked firmly in place, exactly where it was before I had moved.


    It didn¡¯t seem particularly bothered by its new change in living arrangements.


    The Horned Lord¡­ looked like it was trying to lie on its side and return to sleep. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure, considering there weren¡¯t any reference points there for me to use. It was still the impression that I received.


    That was a relief.


    Could I move matter into the space the Horned Lord occupied?


    Gods Above, please forgive me this blasphemy that I¡¯m considering. It is for a good cause.


    The Angels sent me a sense of reassurance to tell me that it was okay in response to my prayer. It still felt wrong to me, even if I knew that it was fine. I felt as if I was littering somewhere holy. I knew that it was irrational. If the Angels didn¡¯t have a problem with it, then my concerns were unfounded.


    That didn¡¯t stop me from feeling offended by what I was planning on their behalf.


    I also felt guilty about putting the Horned Lord there in the first place.


    It was unlikely that the Tumult could continue directing the Ratlings from where it currently was. My plan was to shunt parts of Creation in there and transmute the materials into both food and a temporary living space for the giant Ratling.


    Unfortunately, it would need to wait until a day had passed to safely confirm either way. I¡¯d take care of the Horned Lord until it fell asleep once more. I could find somewhere to put it once it had started hibernating, and then eject it from the home of the Choir of Compassion.


    It was time for me to confront the problem that I was avoiding dealing with.


    Shakily, I climbed to my feet.


    Do I just fly over to the others now?


    No. If I kept relying on my abilities here, I¡¯d never manage to acclimatize to my body again.


    I turned on all my senses.


    Pain. So much pain. It felt like someone had simultaneously driven nails in my ears, poured salt water down my nose and was scraping my skin with a cheese grater.


    I whimpered, then reflexively shut my senses back off.


    I was already back on the ground.


    It made me realize the likely reason that the different Angelic Choirs chose heroes in the first place. They needed an anchor to humanity even more than I did. The Choir of Compassion was so compassionate that they couldn¡¯t conceive of something or someone not belonging in their home. A home invader in the minds of the Angels was simply another person that they could offer compassion to.


    With time, I had come to understand that it was why they hadn¡¯t snuffed me out when I had first encountered them. They had looked away to shield me from their presence. It wasn¡¯t because they hadn¡¯t noticed me at the time.


    No matter how frustrating it was, it seemed that I¡¯d have to do this one sense at a time. Which one to start with? All of them were overwhelming. Touch. I¡¯d start with touch.


    The horrible sensation of ants crawling all over me returned. I yelped and floated an inch off the ground. With nothing to distract me, even the sting of salt against bare flesh was more than I was able to tolerate.


    What next? Clothes. I was naked. This needed to be amended. Even the idea of fabric touching my skin felt like acid pouring down my throat.


    Could I just stay naked?


    It wasn¡¯t like there was anyone nearby who would care about my state of undress. Any Ratlings that approach would just die, and the other two had both seen me naked already.


    Human. Think human.


    What was the smallest item of clothing I could cover myself with? I wanted as little material touching my skin as possible. I was already contemplating creating a skin tight layer of vacuum around me just to make this easier to cope with.


    No.


    I spent another hundred heartbeats arguing with myself about what to wear. It took far more effort than I liked to convince myself to make proper clothing. I ended up wearing slippers, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. They were in theory white, but for the time being the entire world was grey. It was horrifically garish to look at, but it was the most comfortable set of clothing I could come up with after experimentation.


    Comfort mattered more to me at the moment than fashionability.


    I could feel the others gradually making their way towards me. To be more accurate, I could feel the now familiar blade approaching. I wasn¡¯t sure how Laurence was moving, but I was willing to bet my daughter had something to do with it.


    Good.


    That was good.


    I had tried to convince myself to make a form fitting bodysuit to better acclimatize, but that was pushing skin contact too far. Even garments as loose as these were painful. There was too much information. However¡­ I¡¯d just spent a week learning to live in a slice of heaven that felt like hell. There was no way that I wouldn¡¯t take the time to pull myself out of another one.


    I dragged myself to my feet a third time.


    My limbs shook as I stood.


    I wasn¡¯t going to fly or teleport myself back to the others. There were no Ratlings nearby. Actually, why were there no Ratlings nearby? It was odd. Either way, I knew that they were safe. That meant I could take the opportunity to learn to walk again. It was humiliating, but it had to happen sooner or later. It was better for it to be sooner than later.


    I wasn¡¯t going to be changing my location like that again except in an emergency. It was quick, effective and unlike trying to actually teleport wasn¡¯t exhausting. The cost to my humanity was the problem.


    I manifested a length of yew and grabbed it in my right hand. The rough grain pulled against my skin. It reminded me of running my hand against sandpaper. I started to walk forward. My initial progress was slow.


    I moved the stick forward carefully and poked it into the ground.


    Trudge.


    Poke again.


    Trudge.


    Trip. Fall. Pick myself back up once more.


    Trudge.


    Right and Left were¡­ loose concepts for me at the moment. Distance was even harder for me to grasp. I kept having to hold my left hand out in front of me, moving it backwards and forwards to try and familiarize myself with depth once again. I was so used to thinking of everything within my sphere of influence as being one place now that the oddity of seeing so much from only a single point within it was exceedingly disorientating.


    Trudge.


    To my dismay, it seemed like Innovate was not able to help me learn how to walk again. Learning a skill that I had known in the past wasn¡¯t an innovation. These frustrations hearkened back to the cost I had once paid at the end of my time on Earth Bet. They reminded me of the monster that I had become. It wasn¡¯t something that I liked to recall.


    I pitied the Horned Lord.


    I was certain it was intelligent. Not only that, I was certain that it was smarter than I was. It would be stupid to think otherwise, considering the Tumult was thousands of years old. It had to actually survive that long. I couldn¡¯t imagine what it must feel like to be handled in this manner because of a compulsion it had no choice in. It was the best I could do. I felt guilty about shunting it somewhere so awful, but¡­ it was a testament to how dangerous the Horned Lord was that I¡¯d felt it was necessary to resort to such drastic measures in the first place.


    I wanted to try and negotiate with it when I had the opportunity. It would take some doing. I¡¯d need to move the right objects into the angel¡¯s home, then change them into oversized tools for reading and writing. That didn¡¯t mean that it couldn¡¯t work. I didn¡¯t know why the Horned Lord didn¡¯t just send the excess Ratlings into Keter. There was almost certainly a good reason, aside from avoiding swelling the Dead King¡¯s numbers.


    I hoped to bring about an end to the spring raids. I wasn¡¯t sure what I could realistically offer the Tumult for the cessation of long term hostilities, but I would be a fool not to try. This was a unique opportunity. It was an opportunity that it was unlikely anyone else had ever had.


    If I could find a way to satisfy both parties in the short term, then¡­ hopefully it would make the situation better until I found a long term answer.


    Poke forward with the stick.


    Trudge.


    My breath came quick and heavy.


    Trudge.


    The crunch of salt under the soles of silk slippers was fortunately muted enough that my ears didn¡¯t want to kill me.


    A break. I needed a break.


    Muting my sense of touch, I took a moment to lean against the shattered base of one of the petrified trees. The tree had a broad base and large, gnarled roots. It was wider than I was tall. I¡¯d enable my sense of touch again once I¡¯d had a moment¡¯s respite.


    I hadn¡¯t really understood how inhuman I was. Not until the false face I was wearing had been stripped away.


    I¡¯d do my best to ensure that the Tumult didn¡¯t suffer the same fate.


    I¡¯d try to make the Horned Lord¡¯s stay in my own personal room in heaven as comfortable as possible. There was no reason for me to torture it. I wasn¡¯t that kind of monster. It was lodged firmly within my presence, and it seemed that wasn¡¯t going to change. That meant that I could use one spectre a day to make its time in prison more comfortable for it. I suspected, but could not confirm, that I was partially shielding it from the angel¡¯s presence.


    I reshaped the trunk of the tree into a cushioned velvet chair. In theory, it was comfortable. Unfortunately, I wasn¡¯t in a position where I could appreciate it. Taking a seat, I pushed my hair out of my eyes and looked up at the stars above.


    The night sky was cloudless.


    Even in shades of grey, it was breathtaking to look at. It was something that I doubted I would ever become tired of. The sky on Earth Bet had been polluted by city lights. It almost didn¡¯t matter where you went, you couldn¡¯t observe the stars like this.


    I started up another prayer in thanks. It was a belated thanks for all of us having made it through the fight alive. I stopped myself as an epiphany struck me.


    There was something I had been lying to myself about, and it was time that I finally stopped. I took a moment to acknowledge a truth that I had been shying away from for some time.


    I was religious and that was okay.


    Nothing changed.


    It was funny.


    A part of me had expected something to happen once my denials had ended, but why should anything change? I had believed in my Gods for a while. All that had changed was my acceptance of it. It was still a relief to me. I felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. A weight that I had put there on my own.


    My growing faith had been something that I was afraid to admit to myself. The reasons were stupid, but that didn¡¯t make them just go away. I wasn¡¯t sure what my dad or friends back on Earth Bet would have thought of my beliefs if they were around to talk to me. Would they judge me? I liked to think that they would have been supportive of my newly discovered faith, but the doubt would always exist. It would always be there, worming away at the back of my mind. It was a question that I would never have an answer to.


    But at least I knew that none of the people I had come to care about now would view my beliefs as wrong. None of them would judge me for being faithful. This wasn¡¯t the world I had come from before. Everyone I had met was religious to some extent. Even the people I was fighting against. It was more unusual here to lack belief than to have it.


    It just meant that I fit in with everyone else. I wasn¡¯t so special after all. What a surprise that was. I could pray, wear my robes or go to church with a guilt free conscience. The priestess who had given the gift to me had been right. I was a sister of the faith. I wasn¡¯t an imposter who didn¡¯t belong.


    It felt good.


    I might be an outsider, but slowly Creation was becoming my home.


    I just needed enough time to adjust to the many differences.


    The alternate me whose life I had viewed had been more devout than I was. That was undeniable. It didn¡¯t mean that I didn¡¯t have faith. I was probably more devoted to the Gods Above than most people. I¡¯d defined being faithful as something so extreme in my self-denial that it wasn¡¯t reasonable at all. Being prepared to give my life away to my Gods wasn¡¯t the entry requirement to the House of Light. I didn¡¯t need to be willing to go that far. Hardly anyone would make it through the door if it was the general expectation.


    ¡°What are you doing, kid?¡±


    ¡°Resting. Giving thanks to our Gods,¡± I replied.


    It took effort. I spoke slowly and made sure to properly enunciate what I said. It was only one more problem among many.


    ¡°Fight¡¯s over?¡± her voice was resigned.


    I lowered my gaze from the sky towards Laurence. Her once white cotton robes were stained with grit. She was hauling herself forward with two makeshift wooden crutches. I wasn¡¯t sure where Yvette had found the branches. My daughter was standing on Laurence¡¯s right. Her jaw was stiff, and her hands were clenched. Her eyes roamed all over the broken plain.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°It¡¯s dealt with. Want help?¡±


    Laurence shook her head.


    I cleaned my daughter off with a thought. I¡¯d have done the same for the Saint, but unfortunately I couldn¡¯t.


    There was something different about Laurence. A sense of acceptance that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    ¡°You will always be too late,¡± the words were bitter and bleak, but also laced with sympathy.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Scrape. Clomp. Scrape. Clomp.


    The sounds were muffled. I felt sorry for Laurence.


    I reshaped the earth into a second and third seat. She rested her blade against the arm of the makeshift chair, sat down on my right and groaned. Yvette took the chair on my left.


    ¡°Your story. I always wonder what could have changed, if I¡¯d arrived a sennight early instead of late.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think our stories are the same.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± she challenged. ¡°What¡¯s it about?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s what about?¡±


    ¡°Your Name.¡±


    I hesitated.


    ¡°Trying to do the impossible.¡±


    My cheeks shifted to a different shade of grey. I averted my eyes. It was embarrassing to say it out loud.


    A wrinkled hand laid itself on my arm. I allowed myself to feel it. It took effort to suppress the wince.


    ¡°Your Name will change. What do you think it will change into?¡±


    That was news to me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    It meant that I needed to worry about one day losing my Graces.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know either, kid.¡±


    ¡°Can you guess?¡±


    She had more experience with namelore than I did.


    ¡°It depends on which impossible thing you are trying to do. Tell me something.¡±


    I turned back towards her. There was a sincerity to the cast of her features that was hard to dismiss.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Do you arrive before or after the disaster?¡±


    I took a moment to think before responding.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re right and wrong. Dealing with disasters is a part of making the world a better place. It''s one of the many steps on my road to a perfect world, but it¡¯s only a part of it. Sometimes I¡¯ll arrive late and need to pick up the pieces, but it''s possible to enter a land with no problems and still make it better than it was before.¡±


    ¡°Taylor¡¯s right she spent a lot of time improving things in Rhenia without fighting anyone I don¡¯t think she needs disasters to be a hero.¡± Yvette rattled the words out. Despite the support, I could hear the anger in her voice.


    It would take some time and a more complicated discussion to mend this wound.


    ¡°And so the fool who cut nothing was cut out herself,¡± she whispered to herself.


    ¡°I¡¯m not following.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a better answer to the same problem.¡±


    I thought I understood what she meant. She amputated sick limbs. I removed the sickness and tried to heal the limb afterwards.


    ¡°There¡¯s still a place for you.¡±


    There were so many unrepentant evils that needed to be challenged. It wasn¡¯t as if the world was lacking good for her to do. I couldn¡¯t possibly do everything on my own.


    ¡°Heroes get to pass on the torch.¡±


    ¡°You sound like you¡¯re planning to die soon.¡±


    ¡°Definitely not,¡± Laurence sounded offended at the thought. ¡°There are plenty of bad habits I need to beat out of you before my final swing of the hatchet.¡±


    That sounded like it was going to be unpleasant.


    ¡°Ready to go?¡± I changed the topic.


    ¡°What was your old home like, Taylor?¡±


    I guessed that was a no.


    ¡°Better in some ways. Worse in others. The society I grew up in was much kinder than all of those I¡¯ve seen so far in Calernia, even if it had problems of its own.¡±


    ¡°They would have considered me a villain there.¡±


    It surprised me how accurate her guess was.


    ¡°They would have,¡± I agreed.


    My lips were dry. Thirsty. Was I thirsty?


    I frowned and made all three of us glasses of water. Yvette gulped hers down greedily. Laurence and I both drank at a far more measured pace. My sense of taste was still absent, but I¡¯d deal with that later.


    ¡°What was your most desperate fight?¡±


    Should I talk about Scion? There wasn¡¯t any reason not to. If there was anyone who would understand what the fight was like, it would probably be Laurence.


    ¡°There was a villain of sorts. We called him Scion.¡± I started to manipulate the moonlight, and recreated some of my memories of the fight. ¡°We thought he was a hero at first. Then he did all of this.¡±


    Both of them sat in silence for a while and watched. It didn¡¯t take long until Yvette looked away.


    ¡°What happened in the end?¡± Laurence asked.


    She gripped my arm until it hurt.


    ¡°He killed himself. We convinced him. Didn¡¯t feel like a win. I always ask myself if I could have done more. Could I have saved more lives if I had made different choices?¡±


    She looked at me knowingly. Her words from earlier came back to me.


    ¡°It¡¯ll never leave you.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°This was a victory.¡±


    ¡°It doesn-¡±


    ¡°It was a victory. It doesn¡¯t matter what price you paid. You were victorious in the end. A better land will rise from the ashes left behind.¡±


    ¡°Why do you believe that?¡±


    ¡°It has to be a victory, or else none of it means a damned thing.¡±


    Was that the right way of thinking about it? I wasn¡¯t so sure. It would make it easier to think about, but I felt like it would be a lie that I¡¯d tell myself to sleep easier at night.


    <hr>


    Glass panes rotated high in the sky around spires towering over us. The mirrors were suspended from imaginary strings. The light of dawn was refracted through prisms into vibrant hues that were then reflected across a myriad panes above. It was a sight that was still taking time for me to acclimatize to.


    I had tentatively turned colour back on, but was suffering a migraine for it. It would take more than a few days before I felt like a person again.


    I was just glad that my plan with the Horned Lord was a success. My attempt to feed it hadn¡¯t failed. I hadn¡¯t tried communicating with it yet. I was still plotting out what to say. All that was left once that was done was waiting until it ate its fill and returned to a state of hibernation.


    ¡°You never mentioned that you were heading to a Titan city kid,¡± the Saint said. Her voice had a hard edge.


    Should I reduce sounds?


    No. It didn¡¯t matter how sensitive I was to everything. I¡¯d cope. I had to.


    Laurence sat on a comfortable wheelchair with her sword across her lap beside me. I could have levitated us on an island to finish the trip, but there was no specific reason to travel any faster. There was a very good reason to keep travelling at a measured pace.


    After taking over a day to rest, we had continued our journey towards the city of mirrors. It had taken some effort on my part to convince the two of them of the necessity of the side trip. Two more days had passed before we finally arrived.


    The battle had cost all three of us in some way.


    ¡°This was really built by Titans?¡± The Titans had died out thousands of years ago. It was difficult to imagine a place like this lasting so long in such pristine condition. Everything looked fragile.


    I licked my lips absently, and Yvette passed me a flask. Taking a sip, I passed it back and sent a smile of thanks her way. She returned a small smile of her own. There was still an open wound between us that we would need to talk about in private. A wound that I couldn¡¯t allow to fester. The intervening days had at least thawed her temper a little.


    Laurence certainly knew something was up. I didn¡¯t think she knew the specifics. I doubted she would have allowed the matter to pass if she did.


    ¡°Are you sure you should be digging up whatever is here? It¡¯s probably best to let this corpse remain buried.¡±


    ¡°I thought that if a hero digs up graves, it¡¯s just pre-emptive inheritance?¡±


    Her lips twitched.


    Finally. It had taken me forever to elicit a proper smile.


    ¡°Every night I have visions of this place. I¡¯m supposed to repair something deeper inside, but I¡¯m not sure what it will change. How do you know it¡¯s a Titan city anyway?¡±


    The size of the buildings might be a give-away, but I wasn¡¯t going to rule out the possibility of other plus-sized races.


    Laurence turned her head away from me, then pointed towards one of the shaded walls of a colossal building. I moved closer to inspect what she was pointing at. On the walls were intricate inscriptions carved on a minute scale. All of it was in a script that I didn¡¯t recognize. It wasn¡¯t just another language. I was tempted to call it High Arcana, but¡­ it didn¡¯t fit. Whatever this was felt older. As if it was a precursor to the magic that existed today.


    Who decorates the walls of their house with dangerous magic? This place is insanity.


    ¡°That was carved by a Titan¡¯s hand. I¡¯ve never seen a city like this before. I doubt that anything like this still exists anywhere else. There are enough hints to tell who lived here.¡±


    ¡°We should be careful.¡±


    I could probably learn a lot if I made notes on the walls of houses around here. Until I knew much more, it wasn¡¯t a risk that I was willing to take.


    ¡°Absolutely. Do you know where to go?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    I could feel the threads of my story tugging at me. We were close.


    ¡°Good. Lead on then.¡±


    I took one last look over my shoulder.


    The salted plain to the south of us was deserted as far as the eye could see. It was as if there was an invisible line that neither the Ratlings nor the hunger would dare to cross over.


    ¡°It would be interesting to know what drove them off.¡± I pondered out loud as I started to walk forward.


    I felt the back of my neck cool off as the shadow of the large buildings blocked out dawn¡¯s light. It was a welcome respite from the scalding that I had been forcing myself to endure.


    The roads of the mirror city were tiled with alternating black and white blocks. The perimeter of each block was perfectly uniform. It reminded me of a modern city. Unlike a modern city, there wasn¡¯t a speck of dust to be seen. The rhythmic thumping of boots, the rolling of wheels and my stick against the pavement was soothing to the ears.


    The derelict city was tranquil. I let my eyes roam as the others followed behind me. There was something almost reverent about the place. As if it was a monument to a time long gone.


    ¡°There¡¯s a very complicated working built into this entire city which I don¡¯t even begin to understand that is keeping them at bay it would be interesting to figure out but I think that it would probably be common sense for us to remain outside.¡± Yvette added.


    That gave me cause for concern.


    ¡°You think it''s too dangerous?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve said it before I¡¯m not stupid anything that can keep away the Ratlings for thousands of years without any active maintenance is dangerous and we would be stupid to ignore that just looking at the buildings is risky for us I feel like if I sneeze on the walls I¡¯m going to cause a sandstorm in Callow.¡±


    I sent an illusory egg her way. She pouted at me, then moved aside. I had to make it vanish before it cracked on one of the massive buildings. I wasn¡¯t willing to find out if anything bad would happen if I interfered with the walls.


    ¡°Both of you focus,¡± Laurence said sharply.


    I was focusing.


    We reached an intersection marked by a way stone. It featured detailed carvings in the Titan¡¯s script that I wasn¡¯t even going to attempt to read. I certainly wouldn¡¯t risk entering any buildings that weren¡¯t related to a story, either.


    The sharp pull of the story informed me that we should be heading right. I took a look around. Everything was so large, the doors and windows clearly designed for people far bigger than we were. Not only that, but the surrounding buildings were completely alien in both construction and geometry. There were even odd triangular prisms floating in mid-air. Why would you even build a place like this?


    ¡°Thought you knew the way forward?¡± Laurence pressed.


    ¡°I do. Just looking. This place is beautiful in its own way.¡±


    ¡°Taylor¡­¡± Yvette tugged hard on my robe.


    I turned to her, then looked where she was pointing. Rats ran down my spine. The road on the left was blackened, scarred as if by sorcery. Buildings had shattered front faces. There was writing carved into the side of one building.


    The beat of my walking stick on the tiles rang out as I hobbled closer to read it.


    You who come after me: Witness the innumerable follies of the Titans who came before.


    The words were carved in Old Miezan.


    ¡°Something need killing?¡± The wheels of Laurence¡¯s chair thudded against the tiles as she moved closer. She had her gaze locked on the road and was actively avoiding looking at all the walls. It was likely the only reason she hadn¡¯t spotted it herself.


    ¡°No¡­¡± my throat had become dry. ¡°I think this is a holdover from Triumphant.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t thought it was possible for Laurence to look more alert than usual. Somehow, she managed to.


    Then I saw the first threads of a story coil themselves around Yvette.


    I couldn¡¯t see what the story was, but I could tell that it was important.


    ¡°Come on. We¡¯re investigating.¡±


    ¡°This is a really bad idea I feel we should just leave what if there¡¯s a demon Triumphant left those lying around right I don¡¯t think we should go any further.¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t a demon,¡± I answered.


    I would be able to tell if there was.


    ¡°Levitate me. We go on,¡± Laurence said.


    I expected that her reasons differed from mine. I¡¯d bet she wanted to smite whatever evils remained. Nonetheless, I heeded her request.


    We descended the scarred streets in silence. They sloped gently downwards. Unlike the rest of the plain, this city was not flat. Laurence had drawn her blade.


    More and more buildings fell into ruin as we followed the trail left by Triumphant. We turned another corner.


    There was a massive parabolic dish carved into the ground up ahead. The inside of it was covered with what must have been tens of thousands of tiles. A bridge extended into the middle, where a solitary stone stele stood. The surrounding rubble suggested that there had once been a building enclosing the dish. The tiles were engraved with runes. All three of us moved closer.


    Our procession ground to a halt when I smashed face-first into an invisible ward.


    ¡°What?...¡± I blinked and rubbed my face.


    It didn¡¯t even look like it was there to my senses.


    ¡°This is incredible how was this ward even put together I¡¯ve never seen something so impressive before I can¡¯t even begin to understand it.¡±


    I tried probing it with my abilities but was met with no success. That didn¡¯t surprise me. I had an adversarial relationship with wards. However, I was astonished that I couldn¡¯t sense the barrier at all. I could see it and touch it. That didn¡¯t mean anything. To my non-human senses, it was as if it wasn¡¯t even there. I tried to change the environment within the barrier.


    I failed to achieve anything of note.


    Maybe by using Persevere I could either see it or break through, but I wanted to save that for the Horned Lord. Considering how well defended this was, breaking through here might be risky. Triumphant either hadn¡¯t managed to do it, or had considered breaking through unwise. I preferred to be cautious. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t think I could be. There was a story here that was tying itself to my daughter, and it would be remiss if I didn¡¯t put more effort into thinking about what it meant.


    So I decided to pray for advice. Should I leave this alone, or should I go ahead?


    The latter received a seal of angelic approval.


    ¡°Laurence.¡± I turned to her.


    ¡°You want me to cut something?¡± she asked. I hadn¡¯t even finished my sentence.


    ¡°Please.¡±


    She focused, then lashed out with her arm.


    ¡°Sever.¡±


    The barrier shattered at the point of impact. The sound of a shrieking banshee rang out. I winced in pain.


    Laurence¡¯s break had not been permanent.


    Even now, I could see the break mending. The process was slow. It seemed that the Titan¡¯s work wasn¡¯t so easy to unmake.


    All of us stepped through.


    I took a moment to examine some of the runes. The mental impression of an absolutely gigantic, undying dragon wormed its way into my head. The dragon appeared to be chained with abstract bindings, split into countless small pieces and partitioned away. I was missing most of the context for whatever I was looking at. It was without a doubt the most ambitious spell that I had ever seen before.


    ¡°Oh,¡± my daughter said.


    It was an understated admission of something. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure of what.


    ¡°What?¡±


    In the time I had spent looking, she had walked across the bridge to the Stele in the middle. She beckoned to me. I approached. It took me between ten and twenty heartbeats to work out what I was looking at.


    It was the contents page for the ritual I had been examining.


    The ritual was so fiendishly complicated that I didn¡¯t even have the beginnings of an idea of how to safely subvert it. I wasn¡¯t even sure that I was reading this summary correctly.


    ¡°Make copies of every inscription here, ma.¡± Yvette whispered under her breath. Her eyes darted distractedly from one inscription to the next below us. ¡°Actually, make more than one copy. Number them as well so we know which order to read them in.¡±


    She looked up at me briefly. Her expression was hard to read. I guessed that it was a mix of guilt and reaffirmed belief in me. I didn¡¯t feel like I had done enough to earn it.


    That talk needs to happen, and soon.


    I licked my lips and began to do as my daughter asked. It would be difficult and take hours to finish. I wasn¡¯t sure how I was going to copy some of the symbols near the bottom of the dish. There wasn¡¯t an easy path down there, and I couldn¡¯t risk damaging anything. That didn¡¯t make it any less essential to do.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Laurence asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s an extremely dangerous trap that needs to be dismantled carefully.¡±


    I had known the Ratling¡¯s problem would not be simple to solve. I hadn¡¯t understood just how insurmountable the problem would truly be.


    ¡°Better to break or leave it.¡±


    ¡°Disarming it is beyond us,¡± I admitted, ¡°but the continent might not survive if it breaks, and we cannot afford to leave it alone. There is no telling who might stumble over it.¡±


    If I wanted to give the Ratlings a choice, I was going to need to find someone who knew how to remake an evil god.

 Ingress 4.08

    ¡°Everything that can be imagined can be made real. To strive for greatness is to understand this. The fetters without are only as strong as the chains within. Transgressing past that which stays your thoughts is a pivotal step to escape the confines of mortality.¡±


    ¨C Translation of the Kabbalis Book of Darkness, widely attributed to the young Dead King


    <hr>


    It had taken longer than any of us had expected to finish transcribing copies of everything at the site of the ritual. The maw of darkness had swallowed the sun by the time we had finished. We had decided to camp for the night once more on the outskirts of the city. For now, none of us were willing to risk sleeping inside one of the buildings in the derelict city. We weren¡¯t sure of how safe it would be.


    There was no telling what kinds of defences the Titan¡¯s houses had.


    We had considered staying on the streets, but decided against it.


    There wasn¡¯t a good reason to inconvenience ourselves.


    Twenty-five soft balls of light hovered above us in a grid. I used them both as a measuring tool and to see by. The Chain of Hunger was overcast for once.


    The salted plains slowly flowed upward and began to reshape themselves into our stay house for the night. We had time and I wanted to touch base with my waning humanity. Art was the most human activity I could undertake. The foundations came first. They bubbled out of the ground and smoothed over like cooling wax.


    ¡°You¡¯re letting Yvette grow soft,¡± Laurence criticized from her wheelchair beside me.


    Yvette looked up at the mention of her name and bit her lip, before turning back to the thick pile of transcribed papers on her lap. She was sitting on a chair beside us as I worked.


    ¡°This is for me, but all of us deserve something nice.¡±


    What did I feel for tonight? A homely wooden cottage appealed to my desire for a proper residence. A petrified tree vanished from outside the city¡¯s bounds. Stone brick walls grew out of the ground, demarcating an entrance hall, a lounge and three bedrooms. It was like watching cheese melt in reverse. Waterproofed logs covered the bricks over a few moments later. I wasn¡¯t actually concerned about the possibility of rain, but there was no reason for me not to put in the effort.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never met a hero who travels the way you do.¡±


    ¡°I doubt villains travel like this either.¡±


    ¡°There is truth in that.¡±


    I filled in the varnished wooden floors next, before establishing the skeleton of the roof and then topping it all off with a tiled sloped rooftop.


    ¡°There isn¡¯t a door,¡± Laurence commented drily.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    It was time to start work on the finer details. It didn¡¯t take long for me to modify one of the walls, inserting a heavyset oak door. The door had been painted over in a shade of white that was pleasing to my eye. Parts of the outside facing walls for each room vanished, and glass windows filled in the gaps. Brass curtain railings appeared in the inside, with cream curtains draping themselves from them not long afterwards. Anything else?


    Yes. How about a chimney?


    My addition filled itself in almost as soon as I thought of it.


    ¡°Come on. I¡¯m done with the basics.¡±


    ¡°I can move fine on my own, kid.¡±


    ¡°It helps me as well. You know how I¡¯m struggling with my own senses.¡±


    Laurence gave her assent.


    I moved behind her chair and started to give it a push. Yvette and our luggage followed behind me. The rickety wooden chair remained outside. We made it through the front door into the lounge. The room was unfurnished. It took only a heartbeat to change that. A soft velvet carpet appeared underfoot, with three leather couches arranged in a triangle on top of it. A polished mahogany coffee table popped into existence not long afterwards.


    Anything else?


    ¡°Wow ma you really put a lot of effort into this we usually don¡¯t stay in places this nice can you do this more often?¡±


    The walls needed some life. I started to add some drapes, then candles as mood lighting scattered throughout the room. How about a chandelier as well?


    ¡°I can, but fine details like this take a lot of time.¡± I had been working on this one building for over an hour. ¡°I don¡¯t want to make something like this if I am expecting to fight.¡±


    Making the equivalent of an office building with no character was easy. Actually adding life to the structure in the form of decorative furniture and ornamentation was far more time-consuming.


    It wasn¡¯t much longer until I¡¯d lit a roaring fire in the fireplace and everyone was seated in their chair of choice. I¡¯d made us all what food and drinks I could. It wasn¡¯t much in the way of a meal, but it was better than the roast rat they had been eating while I had been trapped in the void.


    ¡°What you do reminds me of the Fae.¡± Laurence stated in a tone that made it sound more like a question.


    ¡°I¡¯m not one of them.¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯s definitely not one of the Fae I¡¯ve had plenty of time to look at what she does she changes the world by putting some of herself into it I¡¯ve tried to figure out where she is from but the best I¡¯ve come up with is outside of Creation entirely she¡¯s not from Arcadia either.¡±


    Yvette looked like she was about to try balancing her cup of tea on the arm of the chair.


    ¡°Don¡¯t. You will spill on the papers on your lap. The table is right there.¡± she pouted at me, then did as I said.


    Laurence¡¯s eyes did not move off of me.


    ¡°I¡¯m from outside Creation. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m ev-¡±


    ¡°I know, Taylor.¡± Laurence cut me off. ¡°I haven¡¯t removed your head. You have the blessing of our Gods. That says enough. It¡¯s hard for me to accept, but you¡¯re not the only ascended mortal who holds to Above.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something like you living in Ashur. Don¡¯t expect to meet them. They keep to themselves.¡±


    ¡°If it makes you feel any better, I¡¯m not from any of the hells. I saw them once by accident. They are¡­ unpleasant.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look like a malformed wretch.¡± her fingers dug into the side of the sofa she was on.


    I¡¯d take that as a compliment.


    ¡°Explain how you saw the hells. No pussyfooting.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t just exist here. I¡¯m in a lot of other places at the same time. With effort, I can look into them. I usually don¡¯t, because it''s a bad idea.¡±


    ¡°Hold to that wisdom.¡±


    ¡°I understand if you don¡¯t trust me in light of this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it, but nothing has changed,¡± she denied.


    That was more accommodating than I had expected of her.


    ¡°The heavens have seen fit to consider you my successor. I failed against the Horned Lord. You didn¡¯t. Both of us need to face some hard truths.¡±


    The way she said that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°I went after the Tumult while you were indisposed on purpose. It was the right thing to do. You will need to make similar choices in the future.¡±


    I froze.


    ¡°Why?¡± The word came out forced.


    ¡°The hero rises from their defeat in their darkest hour and offers up salvation. It¡¯s a story and it worked.¡±


    ¡°But what about Yvette?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t lean into stories. They¡¯re always your last resort. We need to beat that out of you. Stories are your sharpest blade against Evil.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t okay. I¡¯m not willing to sacrifice people I care about like that. I don¡¯t use stories as a first resort when fighting because every villain familiarizes themselves with them, and I¡¯m terrifying even without the help of a story. It puts them on the back foot because they need to fight the type of fight they aren¡¯t used to.¡±


    ¡°That sentiment will cost you someday.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dismissing stories as useless. I still use them when the situation calls for one.¡±


    And I had thought that she would be the one that had a hard time listening to what the other person had to say.


    ¡°Victory takes sacrifice.¡±


    ¡°Sacrifice should never be our first resort. If we can win without giving anything up, then why pay the cost? It''s unnecessary and wasteful. You wouldn¡¯t be crippled if you had waited for me.¡±


    The wrinkles on Laurence¡¯s face softened as she looked at me. ¡°For something better to rise from the ashes, there needs to be a fire first.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that.¡±


    ¡°Pray that time doesn¡¯t take that belief away from you.¡±


    We lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.


    I was upset. It angered me that she had risked everything that way. The fact that it worked didn¡¯t really matter when she had done it without asking for anyone else¡¯s opinion.


    It was Yvette who eventually spoke up.


    ¡°I hate this it''s not fair there isn¡¯t even anyone who I can hold responsible over this the titans are all dead.¡± She pushed the stack of pages away from her onto the coffee table with more force than necessary.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s never easy.¡±


    She must have finally realized that there was no way for her to get the revenge she wanted.


    ¡°You always say that ma but that doesn¡¯t make it right this is all so pointless how can I get back at the Ratlings for killing my family if I can¡¯t even kill them back?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the kid talking about?¡± Laurence interjected.


    ¡°The spell we found. The Titans made the Ratlings. They did it to trap an older, more powerful evil and strip it of its power. One that could kill all of us with ease if it was still alive. The trap will just find new rats and empower them in the same way if you kill all the Ratlings.¡±


    ¡°So just break the trap and keep killing them.¡±


    How could I convince her to leave this be? Triumphant had seemingly left the spell alone, but I doubted that would do anything except convince Laurence that breaking it would be the right choice.


    ¡°No!¡± Yvette shouted before I could speak. ¡°Breaking the trap is a terrible idea that will kill all of us we need to find some way to change the nature of their curse maybe give them the essence of suffering instead of hunger-¡±


    ¡°Yvette,¡± I cut into her diatribe.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me they don¡¯t deserve to be punished every older Ratling is evil they have to be because being good doesn¡¯t keep them alive.¡±


    ¡°They have suffered enough already.¡±


    ¡°Break the spell.¡± Laurence rapped her knuckles on the table. ¡°Even if we die, someone else will rise to bring about its end.¡±


    ¡°How can they be good if they don¡¯t have a choice?¡± I shouted over both of them. ¡°That¡¯s what Creation is about, right? The only choice that matters? They don¡¯t have one.¡±


    ¡°Death is a kindness to them.¡±


    ¡°I want them to pay and making them suffer is only fair if we can¡¯t kill them.¡±


    ¡°Listen to what you''re saying,¡± I hissed at Yvette. ¡°It¡¯s not a good thing to do.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you don¡¯t care,¡± I interjected. ¡°Does none of the time you spent with me mean anything?¡±


    She flinched.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a hero like you are why can¡¯t I have this ma they took everything from me and I can¡¯t have anything back.¡±


    ¡°Because it won¡¯t fix anything. All it will do is give you something to regret in thirty years.¡±


    ¡°Taylor¡¯s right. Making a new kind of evil is a mistake.¡±


    Yvette¡¯s eyes darted between both of us. Her hands clenched and tears ran down her cheeks. She looked like a cornered animal.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯m going to sleep,¡± she stormed off. The door to the furthest bedroom on the left opened and slammed shut.


    I was about to follow behind her when Laurence spoke up.


    ¡°Leave her.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°She needs time and space. Give it to her.¡±


    ¡°I disagree.¡±


    A sigh echoed from behind me as I made my way after Yvette. I opened the door and padded my way towards the bed. She had buried her head under one of the navy blue pillows. I could hear choked sobs from beneath.


    ¡°Hey,¡± the bed creaked as I sat down beside her.


    ¡°Go away it¡¯s not fair!¡± she shrieked.


    I muffled the sound in the room.


    I sat down beside her.


    ¡°It never is.¡±


    I nudged her gently with my left hand.


    ¡°Come on. Sit up.¡±


    ¡°What for you are just going to give me a hug that isn¡¯t going to make anything better.¡±


    She still did what I said.


    ¡°That¡¯s a lie. Hugs help when nothing else does. There were plenty of times I wished I had someone to hug me when I was all alone. I was just too scared to say it.¡±


    I hugged her tightly. Snot smeared itself on my right shoulder, but that was okay. It was for a good cause. My daughter leaned into it.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how I would have responded if she had shied away.


    ¡°You want me to forget what the Ratlings make me feel and focus on trying to help them even if they killed my family don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be okay with you not doing anything at all.¡±


    ¡°Wait what?¡± Yvette stiffened in surprise.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t the only wizard in the world. Neither of us know enough to solve this problem. We will need to consult with the Gigantes before we even have a hope of starting on this. I¡¯m not about to experiment with the Titan¡¯s magic without an expert that I can call upon for help. Doing so is a recipe for disaster. I care about you. If this hurts you too much to work on, then you can leave it to someone else.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to leave this to someone else.¡± she shout-whispered.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t. But could you live with yourself if you made a new evil race just to get revenge? Imagine if you actually solved their problem. There is no way they would ever be able to pay you back. Isn¡¯t that a better kind of revenge?¡±


    It was still the wrong way of thinking about it, but the idea seemed to mollify her for now.


    We sat in silence for a while. Yvette calmed down, then eventually dozed off to sleep. I gently pushed her under the duvet, then tiptoed out of her room.


    Laurence was no longer in the lounge.


    With nobody else around, I made my way outdoors.


    It was time for me to begin my first attempt at communications with the Horned Lord. I ended up transmuting some of the plain into a colossal boulder that towered at roughly two thirds of the Horned Lord¡¯s height. A list of questions was chiselled repeatedly onto one side, with space on the other for the Ratling to carve with its claws.


    I already knew those were sharp.


    We are limited to one exchange of messages per day.


    What is your name and the name of your people?


    What would it take for you to stop sending your people south permanently?


    Why don¡¯t you send your people into the Kingdom of the Dead?


    What would you trade for a ten, twenty, thirty, fifty and one hundred year reprieve to the spring raids respectively.


    You have seen what I can do. I am able to offer much myself. That includes trading for information.


    I have some measure of authority to negotiate for the Lycaonese.


    I can take anything else to the First Prince.


    Do you have any proposals of your own?


    I am willing to act as guarantor for any agreement reached between your people and the Principate.


    The first message on my part was unfortunately very brief. The main problem I was faced with is the amount of time between messages. I didn¡¯t exactly know which languages the Tumult could read and write in, so I had engraved the same message repeatedly in every language I spoke. It felt like trying to negotiate a peace treaty by mail, but it was the best that I could do.


    We didn¡¯t have years to negotiate this, which meant that both of us were going to have to be economical with words. It meant being clever in how we phrased our questions to each other.


    I needed to think carefully about what questions I sent the Tumult, as we were rate limited to one transfer of materials per day. The limitation was unfortunately something that I couldn¡¯t avoid disclosing given the circumstances, but I hoped that it didn¡¯t spell trouble for me later on.


    <hr>


    Dawn arrived and with it, we made our way deeper into the Titan¡¯s city. It was finally time to see what had been calling me in my dreams ever since waking up in the Principate. The three of us arrived at the intersection once more.


    ¡°We should hurry. Hesitating here will have a cost.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I agreed.


    This time, we took the path on the right.


    We began to make our way up a ramp that sloped gently around the hill. There was a truly gigantic metal railing running around the edge. It was likely there to prevent people substantially larger than us from falling off. At our size, it was possible to fit through the gaps. All the railing was engraved with highly detailed images of leaves.


    ¡°I feel like a grave robber or an invader walking around this place it¡¯s so quiet that it''s uncanny theres no animals or merchants hawking their wares even the absence of birds singing is creepy.¡±


    ¡°Time cuts down all of us, kid.¡±


    We reached the top of the ramp, arriving at a flattened out section of the hilltop. There were fewer buildings, but all of them were far more extravagant. The wind whistled above us, dancing between the mirrors meandering high above us.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I said. My voice was tinged with just a hint of awe.


    Even from high above, the Titan¡¯s city towered tall.


    Despite its age, everything still stood untouched by the ravages of time. The floating mirrors rotated at a height currently level with the horizon. The harsh, reflective rays meant that I needed to shade my eyes to observe them properly. It was hard to even conceptualize something like this city, especially considering how fragile many features looked.


    I led on. We passed a bubbling fountain, then came to a stop outside an amphitheatre with an open domed rooftop. Finally, we had arrived.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here and keep watch,¡± Laurence stated.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother to suggest that it might not be safe for her. Even injured as she was, I didn¡¯t doubt she was one of the most dangerous people alive.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    Yvette had come to a stop as well. She looked torn between deciding whether to follow along behind me.


    ¡°Yvie, come with me,¡± I encouraged.


    ¡°But Laurence is staying outside doesn¡¯t that mean I should wait with her?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re my daughter. I promised I¡¯d take care of you. Whatever this is, is as much yours as it is mine.¡±


    Her disagreement faded away. The two of us started to ascend the stairs.


    The deserted room was exactly the way I had dreamed it to be.


    It was empty, save for bits of rubble strewn liberally across the floor. Those were the shattered remains of the stele I needed to reconstruct. I climbed up onto the raised platform in the middle, looking at what I had to work with.


    ¡°This is what you insisted we come back into the city for it looks like a pile of broken rocks what makes it so special?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but we¡¯re going to find out. Come on. Let¡¯s do this together.¡±


    She grumbled for a while, but helped out regardless.


    It didn¡¯t take long for us to lapse into a comfortable silence.


    It was quiet, peaceful.


    I could have gathered the remains of the stele using either magic or even the force of my own will, but¡­ the idea of doing either seemed wrong to me.


    This was a task that should be performed by hand.


    The routine was simple. Pick up a puzzle piece, then carry it back to the centre of the room just short of the podium where they all belonged. We organized them at the base. It was best to arrange them into groups before we began the task of reconstructing the stele itself.


    Time passed. The floor under the soles of my boots first heated and then cooled with the rising and falling of the sun. We stopped outside briefly by Laurence for lunch. Even that didn¡¯t break the tranquillity of the task.


    Walk, pick up, put down.


    Repeat.


    Both of us fell into a trance.


    It almost felt like a ritual.


    Eventually we had gathered all the pieces. The process of reconstruction began.


    It was slow and laborious. Figuring out what went where was hard enough on a two-dimensional puzzle. This puzzle occupied a third dimension. We started from the base and worked our way up. I was exceedingly careful in only fusing chunks of rock together once I was certain that the pieces I had found belonged with each other.


    It grew dark. We debated returning to our cabin outside the city. Laurence suggested that we stay.


    Dinner came and went. I considered suspending orbs of light inside the interior, but decided against it. The light from the moon and stars would be enough. I paused for a while and watched them, reminiscing.


    The sky was different from Earth Bet. New stars set in their own constellations, with a similar, but not the same moon. Despite that, one thing remained constant.


    When you looked up and stopped to really think about it all, we were all so very, very small.


    That didn¡¯t mean small things couldn¡¯t matter.


    I started up on my task again. Yvette had fallen asleep at the base of the monolith. The moon was overhead by the time I had finished piecing together the puzzle.


    What now?


    Nothing appeared to have changed.


    There were still thousands of pieces left over. It confused me. The puzzle was complete. I was certain of it, but it felt like there were enough pieces left over to assemble a second one.


    Maybe if I examined the engravings on the stele further?


    I stepped in closer. There were a lot of details written in the titan¡¯s script, but most of them were lost on me. What I could make out were the larger structures. The sphere inside a sphere, with two smaller spheres on either side of it.


    It was a map of Creation.


    A map that had been carved down to even the smallest of details.


    The Hells on the Platonic left, the Heavens on the Platonic right, the world in the middle and Arcadia around it. I may have been uneducated on magical theory compared to the wizards of Praes, but the basics of the image did not go over my head.


    Unfortunately, everything beyond the basics was far beyond what I could hope to understand.


    I just didn¡¯t have the right perspective to make sense of it.


    I felt like I was supposed to learn something here. It frustrated me. I felt stupid. As if I was failing a test that had been set.


    Parched, I removed the flask from my hip and drank deep while I dwelled on the issue.


    I decided to take a brief rest. I sat down for a moment near where Yvette slept on pillows that I had provided her with.


    Focus Taylor.


    I turned back to the monument.


    It was missing.


    I blinked, then rubbed my eyes.


    Nothing changed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help.¡± A voice called out. It sounded familiar, as if I should know it from somewhere. I couldn¡¯t place where.


    I looked up in surprise.


    A figure was standing to the left of where the stele should be. She stood only a little shorter than me, wearing a black and grey silk outfit. Her face was clad with a mask sporting mandibles, and her eyes were covered in yellow lenses. The figure stood unnaturally still. She didn¡¯t move at all, she just stared at me.


    It was me.


    More specifically, it was me when I had still been Skitter.


    I must have fallen asleep. I looked around the place wearily, not being able to see the difference between where I was now and reality before.


    ¡°Just like the waking world,¡± Skitter said. ¡°Ready for me to help?¡±


    It sounded more like she was stating she would be helping me regardless of my wishes, despite phrasing the words as a request. So I was in a dream then. An exceptionally vivid dream, but still a dream. I already knew that dreams had power here, though.


    I was about to reject the offer on impulse alone when I thought better of it. She was a part of me. If I rejected help from her, how could I accept help from anyone else? It struck me then. She looked so alone. It was as if she had nobody in her corner. I knew that I wasn¡¯t alone anymore and I didn¡¯t like it. So I stood up and hugged her. She stiffened. It was as if friendly human interaction was foreign to her. The thought left me with a feeling of nostalgic melancholy that I hadn¡¯t expected to have.


    I had been like that as well years ago.


    ¡°Sure. What am I supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°Build it a second time.¡± She pulled away, her eyes avoiding my own.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    It was tiring work, but I needed to go on. I considered the remaining pieces carefully, trying to work out how to fit them all together. I hadn¡¯t expected being in a position where I had to build this structure more than once.


    It was harder than I thought.


    The second structure wasn¡¯t the same as the first one. It wasn¡¯t just the shape of the pieces that were different. The image that was building up on the face of the stele told a different story to the one that I had already seen.


    For a while, the two of us worked together in relative silence. It was comforting, as odd as it was.


    ¡°You should do it again.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I replied, confused. ¡°Do what?¡±


    ¡°Nobody here can be trusted with power, so you should take charge,¡± she explained.


    ¡°That didn¡¯t work out so well for me the first time,¡± I countered.


    ¡°But it did!¡± she argued. ¡°Sure, you died at the end, but the world got to go on.¡±


    ¡°I think if I had trusted others more, we could have come up with a better solution,¡± I evaded. The response felt weak, but I was trying to be better.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Skitter sounded doubtful. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, though. In this world, you actually do know better than everyone else. It isn¡¯t hypocrisy if it¡¯s true. You should try to take over. Not doing it is just irresponsible. Just look at the mess in the Principate!¡±


    ¡°No one person can fix everything. It doesn¡¯t matter how strong they are. Everybody needs guidance. Everybody needs help from somebody else.¡±


    ¡°How about Triumphant?¡±


    ¡°Neither of us know her life story. It doesn¡¯t matter. She still relied on others. Even if it was just from existing academic knowledge and written texts.¡±


    ¡°We could. She was just a human. We¡¯re better than that.¡±


    There was so much wrong with that statement.


    ¡°She¡¯s lying, you know,¡± another voice interrupted my thoughts.


    I turned.


    This figure wore a copy of the robes I wore. I felt a kinship with her. It was almost as if the two of us were nearly one and the same. She didn¡¯t look like she needed a hug, but I gave her one anyway. She returned the gesture warmly.


    ¡°You¡¯re making me proud, Taylor,¡± She said softly. ¡°Do you mind if I help?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± I smiled back and tapped against the broken base of the plinth.


    I took the time to consider the two of them while we worked. A suspicion was beginning to gnaw away at the back of my mind.


    I turned to face Skitter. No, not Skitter. She was me, but a version of me who had chosen to side with Below. That made the other one a version of me who also stood with Above.


    Each of them was an eidolon standing in to represent their respective sides.


    ¡°Is this a test?¡±


    I directed the question towards the version of me that I trusted more.


    ¡°If you want it to be.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to kill my Evil self?¡±


    ¡°Some people test themselves like that. We¡¯re not a brute.¡± Evil me snorted.


    ¡°We like ourselves as we are. You¡¯ve moved past self flagellation.¡± The Good version of me translated.


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the test?¡±


    ¡°Me first,¡± Evil me said, fitting another piece into the monument.


    ¡°Tell me why I should embrace Evil.¡±


    I didn¡¯t see myself changing my mind, but I would at least hear what she had to say.


    ¡°Good is ineffective. It¡¯s reactionary. Slavery was ended by Evil. You know that deep down. Good doesn¡¯t improve the world, it only keeps it locked in place.¡±


    I turned towards my Good self. She was continuing to build up the stele while the two of us debated on the side.


    ¡°Not going to contest that?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to fall, Taylor.¡± She smiled at me. ¡°You¡¯re almost a saint. It isn¡¯t moral guidance that you need. Just a little help and support. A nudge every now and again. I trust you to stand on your own two feet.¡±


    Evil me snorted. ¡°Saint? No she isn¡¯t. How many people suffer because she doesn¡¯t take charge.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true that Good is largely reactionary,¡± I agreed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t need to be that way. Change can be guided. I have no way of measuring how many people suffer because I¡¯m not in charge. It¡¯s entirely hypothetical. What isn¡¯t hypothetical is the thousands that would need to die for me to take over, or the thousands more that would die once I was there.¡±


    ¡°You could just kill or mind control all the leaders. Don¡¯t pretend you don¡¯t think they¡¯re awful. Nobody can fight you.¡±


    ¡°Laurence could.¡±


    I doubted anyone would allow a villain to remain in charge of a Good nation.


    ¡°She really couldn¡¯t. You know that. Open a few permanent gateways to the hells and hide out somewhere else. Take some refugees with you.¡±


    That was a big step up from taking over by removing the leaders.


    ¡°How does genocide make people¡¯s lives better?¡±


    ¡°Social engineering. Laurence would tell you that you could build something better from the ashes.¡± Evil me grinned. It wasn¡¯t pleasant to look at.


    I turned towards Good me. A sad smile adorned her face. The expression alone communicated all that I needed to know.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel like you¡¯re trying very hard to sway me.¡± I told my Evil copy.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll fail her test. I want you to know what you¡¯re signing up for once the blinders have been ripped off.¡±


    I felt like it was supposed to be ominous, but if anything I felt more reassured.


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Evil is more open-minded. It¡¯s easier to reform.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Just need to convince people with logic, rather than emotion. Prove your system of morality serves their best interest better than being selfish.¡±


    That was a more persuasive argument than her last one, but it still wasn¡¯t good enough for me. For one, I doubted that it was true. The vision of life in Wolof had given me a better understanding of Evil, even if I now appreciated it less.


    Evil was unfortunately ideological.


    ¡°I¡¯d run the risk of coming to like mass murderers. Then I¡¯d start to think like them. Better to surround myself with good people.¡±


    ¡°Mass murderers like Laurence?¡±


    ¡°All the people she killed deserved it,¡± I defended.


    She gave me a flat stare.


    ¡­ Point. I had no way of knowing that for sure.


    ¡°Evil isn¡¯t asking you to follow anyone. Just do what you believe in.¡±


    ¡°I need to work with others to make the changes I want. I couldn¡¯t just live alone in the middle of nowhere. It would be lonely, and I would hate it.¡±


    ¡°Make friends with others who worship below.¡±


    ¡°An appeal to faith won¡¯t work. Above and Below aren¡¯t morally equivalent. Above has angels that truly represent virtues. Below has devils that bargain for people¡¯s souls.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worship Below. They don¡¯t ask you to.¡±


    ¡°The idea that there is a third side here is a lie. Everything in Creation is a form of worship for one side or the other. Choosing to try to sit out of the fight is just one of the least offensive ways to side with Below. I¡¯m not a coward, and I¡¯m only a fool sometimes. I¡¯ve chosen the side that I believe in, rather than being stupid and believing that by declaring myself neutral it makes it any more true. Everything Good has done shows them in a better light than Evil. Actions matter. I¡¯m not going to consider switching sides.¡±


    The argument ended there.


    All three of us continued with our task in silence.


    One last piece slotted into place. The stele was not complete, there was still a coin shaped hole in it.


    Apparently, it didn¡¯t need to be.


    Blue lines burst out of the image carved into the surface of the monument. They enveloped the room. We were swallowed by a huge virtual three-dimensional map that stretched from one side of the stadium to the other.


    Planets, stars, constellations, galaxies. All were laid out in exacting detail. I turned my thoughts towards the idea of Calernia and the focus of the map narrowed in on a single speck. It was almost as if it knew what I wanted.


    What about Earth?


    The map expanded once more to its full size.


    The focus did not switch to anything else.


    It was a disappointing but expected result.


    It was only then that I noticed the two emissaries were holding scintillating pieces in their hands. They were blinding in their incandescence. I shaded my eyes, then conceded even that was not enough and squinted away.


    ¡°I thought this was supposed to be your test?¡± I asked my Good counterpart.


    ¡°In the time that you¡¯ve spent in Creation, you¡¯ve told the world two stories.¡± She began.


    ¡°The story of who you were before.¡± Evil me held out her piece towards me.


    I looked towards Good me. She would tell me if this was a trap.


    ¡°It¡¯s safe to take. This isn¡¯t a test, despite what she says.¡±


    Evil me cackled in a way that reminded me of Aisha. I ignored her.


    I reached towards the glowing chunk of rock now that I had been reassured. It was the size of my palm and shaped like a coin. The light faded from it as it came to rest in my hand. The token had an engraving carved onto it. A golden crown ornamented with a set of silver scales. There was a spider on the left of the scales, balanced by a butterfly on the right.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t the only story you told Creation,¡± Good me held out her piece.


    I reached out to it. It was identical in size and shape to the other one, but the engraving on it was different. This one I was already familiar with. It was the image of a golden staircase that I had created for myself.


    ¡°What am I supposed to do with these?¡±


    ¡°Your choice,¡± Evil me said.


    I turned my attention back to the Stele. There was a hole there. A hole that either of them could fit into.


    ¡°What happens if I put one of these in there?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You give up that story and everything that comes along with it.¡± My Good simulacrum answered.


    ¡°That means?¡±


    ¡°If you choose to give up the stories of your past, then you will no longer be a demon. If you choose to give up the stories of the present, then you will no longer be on the path to redemption.¡±


    ¡°Why would I give up either?¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± Evil me smiled to emphasize her point. Weeping heavens, that smile was creepy.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a sacrifice, it''s a trade. If you put in the stories of your past, then they will apply to everyone everywhere in Creation.¡±


    ¡°And if I give up the redemption story?¡±


    ¡°Then everyone except you could follow through with it as well.¡±


    ¡°See. You should do it. Give up on being Good. It¡¯s better for everyone else.¡±


    This¡­ was a lot to spring on me.


    ¡°Do I need to give up on either?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± Evil me answered. ¡°Keep both. It¡¯s smarter.¡±


    And here is the real test.


    ¡°You want me to give up on one of them?¡± I directed the question to my mirror image.


    ¡°Your past stories,¡± she agreed.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You carry with you the stories of an entire world. A world that is in many ways closer to what you and I want for Creation. Giving up your stories won¡¯t get it there, but it will put the grooves of those stories into place. You know those stories better than anyone else. You can help guide everyone. It¡¯s a new battlefield skewed in favour of Good.¡±


    ¡°Not all of my stories were good.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason she carried that token,¡± Good me acknowledged.


    ¡°Your story was the strongest on Earth Bet.¡± The version of me in the Skitter costume explained. ¡°You carry enough stories with you to form a new Fae court, and your story will be the crown to it.¡±


    ¡°And you still want me to give those stories up?¡± I asked my right half.


    The thought made me incredulous.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Keep them. It¡¯s the right thing to do. You can¡¯t trust anyone with that kind of power.¡± Villainous Taylor countered.


    I looked at both of them closer. I realized that they weren¡¯t just emissaries. They were also both part of me. My doubts and fears. The little voices urging me to do one thing or the other.


    ¡°Is there anything else I¡¯d be giving up while you¡¯re at it?¡±


    ¡°There is, but I can¡¯t tell you what,¡± Good me winced.


    Oh.


    So that was what this was. I had claimed that I was faithful. This was a test of faith.


    ¡°How am I supposed to do anything? Without immortality or power to influence the world, you¡¯re asking me to give up on my dreams.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± her voice raised in pitch. ¡°Your dreams are good. I want them to happen. The Angels want them to happen. Our Gods want them to happen. If you win, they win. We are all fully behind you.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you asking me to discard both my powers and my past? It¡¯s part of what makes me who I am.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m asking. Think about how much good your stories could do if they applied to everyone. You know how hard it''s going to be to change societies. How much blood will be shed to get there? Even the most peaceful path is going to see millions or perhaps billions die. How much has Aisne really changed now that the revolution is over?¡±


    So this was the other side of the coin.


    ¡°This is why she thought I¡¯d fall.¡±


    I¡¯d be weakening my story if I kept both coins. My Gods were offering me guidance. They were suggesting that this was a better way. I wasn¡¯t about to let go of my redemption story. That made it a choice between keeping and letting go of my largest advantage over anyone else.


    It felt like I¡¯d be losing out no matter which choice I made.


    ¡°Told you that it¡¯s unacceptable.¡± Terrible Taylor folded her arms. I got the sense that the entire exchange left her feeling satisfied.


    I turned towards my reflection.


    ¡°Will I still be in a position where I am able to negotiate with the Tumult?¡±


    ¡°You know the answer deep down inside.¡± my Good twin evaded.


    ¡°How about my leverage over Cordelia? My abilities in a fight? This throws all my plans away. I won¡¯t be able to escape stories, or see them before they unfold. Are you asking me to swear not to kill as well?¡±


    Good me came close and hugged me tightly.


    ¡°Taylor, have faith,¡± she whispered into my ears.


    Have faith.


    ¡°Are my dreams dead if I do this?¡±


    She shook her head vigorously.


    Even in dreams, my mouth had gone completely dry.


    Even if she ignored all the other questions, there was one that I needed to know the answer to.


    ¡°Are my Gods asking me to die?¡±


    ¡°Do you believe that they would?¡±


    No. No I didn¡¯t. This was a trust exercise. My Gods wouldn¡¯t ask me to die, to kill my friends, or to become a pacifist. Nobody would follow them if the guidance they offered wasn¡¯t in the spirit it was asked for.


    Am I really considering this?


    It was hard. Harder than any decision I had ever made before. Even the ones that I had made at the end of the world. They might have had more far-reaching consequences, but none of them required me to act on faith alone.


    I turned towards my Evil twin.


    ¡°Trust isn¡¯t good enough, is it?¡± She grinned at me.


    It was her grin more than anything else that helped me make up my mind. I didn¡¯t want to ever be like that. I didn¡¯t want to be like her. My new friends and faith had made me happy. Happy in a way that I hadn¡¯t been in a long, long time.


    I¡¯m really doing this, aren¡¯t I?


    I felt a sense of certainty wash over me. A clarity that I had wished for. Yes, this was my purpose. This was what I wanted to do. They were my Gods, and I was one of their priests.


    ¡°If my Gods asked me to believe in people or organizations, then you would have been right. I don¡¯t believe in any of them. I doubt that will ever change. When I negotiate with Cordelia, I do so with the implied threat of what I can do hanging over her. She knew at all times that I could just walk across to her opposition if I didn¡¯t like what she said or did. She knew that if I wanted her dead, there was nothing that she could do about it. It¡¯s a part of me that I don¡¯t like. It¡¯s something that I was made into by others. Sadly, it¡¯s a part of me that will never go away.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re really considering this?¡± The range of my Evil self¡¯s voice went higher than my voice had ever gone before.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just giving the Gods Above power over you.¡±


    ¡°They already have it.¡±


    Omnipotence didn¡¯t go away because they chose not to exercise it.


    ¡°Think. It¡¯s a lie. A trick to kill you.¡±


    My Gods did not need to trick me to kill me. If the Gods wanted someone dead, they immediately ceased to exist.


    ¡°I¡¯ve made up my mind.¡±


    My Good reflection was right. This wasn¡¯t a test. I had already decided where I stood. I worshipped the Gods Above. This was simply me affirming my own faith.


    It¡¯s going to be okay, Taylor.


    They were my Gods, and I believed in them.


    My friend, my family and everyone else that I had come to rely on were all together under the banner of Good. Trusting them all had gotten me this far. I¡¯d trust them all just a little bit further.


    My Gods wouldn¡¯t lie to me. They wouldn¡¯t just cast me aside. They knew where my lines were just as well as I did.


    ¡°Good luck then.¡± My villainous self patted me firmly on the shoulder.


    ¡°I thought you disagreed?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t hate ourselves. You¡¯re still me. I want to be happy. I just don¡¯t agree on the road to get there.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget the other choice. Be more selfish. Assert control. Make some decisions on your own. Not every choice needs to be guided by somebody else.¡±


    I knew that. I didn¡¯t ask for guidance when I felt certain of what was right or for trivial problems. It was only something that I did when I felt lost. This wasn¡¯t about relieving myself of the ability to choose, it was about having the opinion of someone much older and wiser than myself when times were hard.


    I turned away from her.


    ¡°Do you have anything to say?¡± I asked my Good simulacrum.


    ¡°You know my mind as well as I do.¡±


    I was about to disagree when I realized that I did. I was her and she was me. Both of us had positioned ourselves firmly on the side of Good.


    There was only one thing left for me to do.


    ¡°Your priestess offers this to you in the spirit it was asked for. She trusts you to take good care of her,¡± I prayed.


    My hands shook as I walked up to the hole in the Titan¡¯s monument and slotted the piece of my past into it.


    I could feel the hands of my Gods reach out to me and lay a finger on my forehead. It came as a shock. I had never heard of the Gods intervening before, but it made sense. If anything required direct intervention, then changing the nature of a demon into something else would do it.


    This¡­ wasn¡¯t what I was expecting.


    I had expected them to turn me back into a human.


    My perception began to expand. My mind began to change. It was similar and yet different from what I had experienced within the void before anchoring myself to Yvette. My Gods were there to guide me through the experience every step of the way this time. It was comforting. They kept me from losing myself.


    I was still me, but I was also something different.


    There was Light. It was everywhere. It suffused every part of me. The experience didn¡¯t hurt, but it was overwhelming.


    S¡­s¡­so much. T¡­t¡­too much.


    My consciousness began to fade. I could have tried to stay awake, but I trusted my Gods to take care of me. I didn¡¯t know what I would wake up as, but I had faith in them. That was good enough. I had faith that I would still be me. Faith that whatever they turned me into would preserve my humanity. Faith that I would still be able to achieve my dreams.


    A comforting blanket of darkness wrapped itself around me.

 Ingress 4.0x

    ¡°One hundred and forty-four. If you come into the possession of any strange or enigmatic objects with no apparent purpose, ensure that they are never lost, broken or misplaced. They will almost certainly be of critical import in the distant future.¡±


    ¨C ¡®Two Hundred heroic Axioms¡¯, author unknown


    <hr>


    Cordelia Hasenbach.


    <hr>


    Routine was something Cordelia Hasenbach embraced.


    Which was what made breaks to her routine all the more tiresome. She had broken her fast and had been going over the expected difficulties of the day with her closest advisors. The boon of coin they had received from the Chosen had created new avenues of negotiation with the Kingdom Under that needed to be accounted for.


    She was walking around the walls of one of the Autumn palaces in Salia when a breathless attendant brought her a missive. Taking it, she leaned over the crenellations and then started to peruse the contents.


    She skimmed over the letter twice more, while allowing the sound of her soldier¡¯s morning drills down below to wash over her. Despite being eighteen and well-bred, the contents of the letter made her want to throw a tantrum. Even beyond the grave, it appeared Princess Constance saw fit to make problems for the Principate. Biting back an oath, she considered what to do.


    The matter of Constance¡¯s Scar had risen in priority and was now a pressing concern. Shortly after the tragedy had first occurred, travellers in the region had started to complain about an uncanny feeling when venturing near. Priests should have been dispatched in the aftermath to contain any potential undead breakout, but with the state of the Principate, the task had fallen by the wayside. As time marched on, that expanded from the ill-founded superstitious mutterings of peasants to claimed sightings of ghosts. At the start of her campaign, word had come that phantom raiding parties bearing Constance¡¯s banner had been attacking anyone who ventured close enough to the Scar. The missive that Cordelia had just received warned of the rise of entire legions of angry shades.


    Cordelia was uncertain how to deal with the matter. Traditional weapons had so far proven ineffective against the creatures, although the workings of Priests had shown promise. By Klaus¡¯s reckoning, the threat had grown to the point that the Principate did not have sufficient priests to see it properly excised.


    It was fortunate that Taylor¡¯s origins remained clouded in mystery for most. The Alamans princes would undoubtedly have Princess Constance cast as a folk hero should the place of Taylor¡¯s arrival be known. The brave princess who had so cruelly lost her life in an attack called down by the perfidious schemes of Cordelia up north. They would treat Taylor as nothing more than a tool to have Cordelia¡¯s reputation tarnished and forget the cost of earning the Chosen¡¯s ire.


    The matter of Constance¡¯s Scar was of critical import. It would have far-reaching consequences if serious effort was not made to see it properly contained. The imperilled region included a not insignificant swathe of Procer¡¯s heartland. The spectral raiding parties had begun to pillage along Julienne¡¯s Highway. One of Procer¡¯s arteries was under threat. It had already forced Klaus to consider alternate routes for staging the next part of the Lycaonese campaign.


    After Lange had fallen, she had marched on Salia with the intent of using it as a rest stop before giving battle at Cantel to the south. It was likely that there was where the final confrontation with the coalitions of Princess Aenor of Aequitan and Prince Amadis of Iserre would take place. Despite Agnes¡¯s assurances that the outcome of the battle would resolve in Klaus¡¯s favour, she couldn¡¯t help but be nervous.


    Be a dictator or don¡¯t.


    As a girl Cordelia had made a deep study of ruling, knowing that she would one day inherit Rhenia and intended to serve her people as best she could. She was acutely aware of the limits of Lycaonese wisdom, and so she searched for answers among the learning of other realms. She had looked far, in acquiring tomes. From one side of the continent to the other. She had yet to acquire any political treatises penned by the hand of Dread Empress Malicia, but it was not for the lack of making the attempt.


    Her initial overtures to recruit the Chosen had been made at the behest of Agnes. Foul portents of what could come to pass should Taylor decide to stand on the opposing side of the field. She was a foe that Cordelia could not afford to contest with the strength of arms. Even should she be victorious, the cost would prove ruinous. According to Agnes, not all futures along that road ended in defeat, but enough did that Cordelia had considered the imposition of courting the Chosen worth the price.


    The arrangement was not entirely to Cordelia¡¯s detriment, and not only in the form of material assistance.


    Taylor had presented the opportunity to excavate the mind of someone from beyond the shores of Creation for insights. The attempt had borne little fruit. For once, it had galled Cordelia that a hero had been so unschooled in matters of politics. She had been tempted to castigate the hero for the shortfall in her education, but had instead withheld her thoughts. The station of the girl¡¯s birth was not a failing of her own.


    The hero¡¯s inadequacies in matters of statecraft did not make her assessment of Cordelia¡¯s protracted strategy any less correct. The seeds of her plan for the foundation of a Grand Alliance had only just planted themselves in the fertile soil of her mind. She would have presented it as a council of nations participating in the Tenth Crusade that could adjudicate internal disputes, but would not include clauses forcing the alliance to end after Praes was laid low. Cordelia had believed it would see the pillars of her reign cast in steel and forge a Principate that could finally turn its attention towards the true enemies.


    She¡¯d had been teetering on the brink of a decision, when Taylor had presented her poorly argued dismissals of Cordelia¡¯s long-term strategy. Cordelia hadn¡¯t given much weight to Taylor¡¯s castigation of her plan at first. After consulting with her advisors and having them scour historical records of the previous crusades, she had conceded that staging the Tenth Crusade was more likely to fracture the Principate than see it forged anew.


    And so Cordelia had begun to revise her vision for the future of the Principate. She had her advisors scour old records and unearth every fragment of namelore that she could. The cost in both time and silver might have deterred her once, but not when confronted with the evidence of how close she had come to skirting the edge of ruin. The bitter taste of how close she had courted disaster stung like salt-water against an open wound, but Cordelia already toiled to close the holes in her schemes.


    The strategy that emerged from the furnace had been tempered by new wisdom. Her dreams of a Grand Alliance were not dead in the water, it was only the initial purpose of the alliance that required adjustment. The pact would be defensive, an agreement to unite in the event of extraordinary actions committed by any major Evil polity. It was unfortunate that a war on Callow could not be prosecuted to the last holdout, but Cordelia had conceived of an alternate method for scouring every trace of Evil from that backwards kingdom.


    Taylor had delivered both the Revolutionary¡¯s drafts for his vicious scheme in Aisne and what little of the Carrion Lord¡¯s additions to the plans she had been able to unearth. It would take little work for Cordelia to see them wielded against Praes, and it would come as a significant blow.


    Her investigations of the Pravus Bank had provided unrelated insights into the economy of Praes. The nation¡¯s food shortages came as no surprise to her given some of their cultural practices, neither did their long history of grain imports, but it spoke to the presence of an easily exploited vulnerability. One that Cordelia would not hesitate to take advantage of.


    The Calamities were villains, and stories were weapons that cut best when wielded in the hands of those on the side of the Heavens. They had seen fit to stoke the flames of madness within both Aisne and the Principate at large. Malicia¡¯s thrust in Aisne was but one move of many in their contest, but it was a thrust that Cordelia had yet to return. Cordelia would see their madness returned in kind.


    The people of Callow were a vicious lot of backward peasants, known for their long history of fostering grudges. Cordelia would turn the schemes of the Tower over to them, with her own additions outlining the fragility of Praes¡¯s economy. She had no doubt that the people of Callow would burn their own fields to see their tyrants brought low.


    In matters of internal conflict within the Principate, she intended to use Taylor¡¯s reforms as a platform to quell her opposition. She had initially dismissed the idea of providing a political education within schools for the peasantry for their lot in life would find no benefit from it, but circumstances had seen fit to change her mind. Cordelia thought that she could maintain her hold on power for at least a decade without calling for a Crusade, before the other princes had eroded away her power.


    That was sufficient time to educate opponents for each Prince within their own Principality and collect an abundance of incriminating evidence on every last one of them. She would use the information she gathered to incite dissent should they make the attempt at unseating her from power. It did not suit Cordelia to care about who ruled the lands to the south, provided they did so capably and were not plotting to undermine her rule. In light of their origins, were the Malanzas to be wrested from the reins of power, it would be a fate that they had earned.


    It was an unconventional scheme that would rely on her maintaining an unblemished reputation within the confines of the Principate¡¯s internal politics. Cordelia considered it essential that she be viewed as an acceptable candidate to rule in the aftermath of her grand reveal, but she knew that it was not beyond her faculties to do so. Cordelia wagered that so long as conflict remained situated at the level of Principalities rather than the broader Principate, they would be willing to band together in the face of an external threat.


    While each Principality turned their attention inwards like vultures fighting over scraps, Cordelia would see to it that her purpose remained fulfilled. She would see the walls were manned and fortified, the roads were safe and in accordance with her agreement with the Chosen, the lives of the peasants were improved. It would cost her political capital in the Highest Assembly, but her reputation would soar.


    She was Cordelia Hasenbach. She would salvage a nation from the madness the Tower had turned the Principate into, no matter the cost.


    <hr>


    Lennox the Revolutionary.


    <hr>


    The measured plodding of his boots against the forest floor matched the care that Lennox had once shown as he put quill to parchment.


    Prod.


    Step.


    Prod.


    Step.


    One could not be too careful when embarking on a journey through the Waning Wood. The forest was fraught with perils both wondrous and mundane. He questioned the wisdom of the road he traced once more, but chose not to shy away from this turn of the page.


    He ducked beneath the covers of another tree, then felt his boots sink into the loam. The faint bubbling of a spring echoed in the distance like the sound of rainfall over his family¡¯s farm. A twinge of resentment. He dismissed the memory once more.


    Mercantis was the spine of the ledger that upheld Calernia. It was no mere whim that motivated his choice of destination. Revolution whispered to him like the blossoming of new shoots come spring. It whispered and he decided to answer. Lennox would burn through the rot like fields of sugar cane faced by summer flames. The city of Bought and Sold would trade coin no longer, as he consigned it to a pyre of its own make.


    The Revolutionary passed between the painted pages of a fern and stepped out into the fading golden light of the late afternoon sun. The brook babbled before him. Weary from his journey, he peeled off his boots and soaked his feet in the cooling water. It was almost inklike in its viscosity.


    Like the crunch of discarded parchment, twigs crackled nearby. Lennox turned his attention towards the sound. A pale skinned figure with a black silken blindfold over one eye clad in a sober long-sleeved tunic with buttons of shade approached from between the trees.


    The Revolution sung to him then. It sang like it never had before. Lennox could see all the uses the Prince of Nightfall could be put to. He could already taste the fruits of their collective harvest.


    ¡°Would you consider extending your banking into the fine city of Mercantis? I would serve as your intermediary, and there is much coin to be made.¡±


    In his mind, Lennox could see the seeds of the story he was planting take root in the creature¡¯s head. It was likely that the Prince of Nightfall could escape the furrows he had ploughed, but Lennox doubted that the raven haired creature would choose to do so.


    ¡°Why should I decide to fund this branch?¡± he replied.


    ¡°I would offer loans to the greedy and desperate within the City of Bought and Sold. Loans where they need only offer up their souls when signing their name to the agreement. It is within your means to offer coins at no cost to us both.¡±


    Lennox knew that the only coin the Fae could offer would fade like summer crops with the changing of seasons, but that only served to further his goals. Coins would pour forth into the city of Mercantis like ink spilled from the well. The economy would adjust to its presence with the passage of years, then one day it would all evaporate like mist.


    It would all come tumbling to the ground like books on a knocked over bookshelf when that time finally arrived.


    ¡°And what of your desires?¡±


    ¡°What you want is what I want. In this undertaking, there is nought that I seek for myself.¡±


    A gaggle of children sounded out as the Prince of Nightfall laughed.


    ¡°A well-laid trap. A well-laid trap indeed.¡±


    Their bargain had yet to be struck. An agreement was still to be found, but Lennox could see which way the wind had blown by the shifting of the grass.


    Lennox had not set foot in Mercantis yet, but he could already hear the roaring of flames.


    <hr>


    Akua Sahelian.


    <hr>


    ¡°Show me not my reflection,¡± she spoke in an ancient Mtethwa dialect, ¡°but the face of your brother.¡±


    ¡°Mpanzi,¡± her father grinned.


    She missed his company. Their only allowed contact was when she received his tutelage in sorcery, although both of them had been finding ways to subvert those restrictions regardless. She would be with him right now, were she not about to attempt another summoning once again. Secrecy was paramount: the moment any other practitioners within the empire became aware of what she was calling upon, they would immediately move to kill her. That required her to perform her experiments on the outskirts of Wolof, away from prying eyes.


    It had taken the best efforts of her family agents to procure an object tainted by the Aspirant from deep within the bowels of the Tower. It was a book that had been written in a language nobody spoke. The fact that any corrupted artefacts had remained came as complete a surprise. The Dread Empress had tasked The Warlock with purging that corruption, and surprisingly, the edict had been met with great fervour and enthusiasm.


    ¡°Papa,¡± Akua returned his grin with a smile of her own.


    ¡°I¡¯ve finished converting that old Wolofite ritual from Petronian to Trismegistan sorcery. Some of the improvements I made along the way look like they will bear promise. Dread Empress Triumphant¡¯s ¡ª may she never return ¡ª old seeking rituals were horribly wasteful in nature. While it would certainly locate and bind demons, it did so through brute force.¡±


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The grin on Akua¡¯s face remained firmly in place. While she would have liked to ask her father to elaborate, she had precious little time right now.


    ¡°Can you send them to me?¡±


    Akua required sharper tools to bring about her long term goals.


    ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll send them the usual way.¡±


    <hr>


    Yvette.


    <hr>


    The world rippled. Surprised, Yvette felt something calling to her. What was wrong? Trying to push away the calling of sleep, she rubbed her eyes and looked around. Her ma was standing beside the finished Titan¡¯s monument. Yvette¡¯s feelings were complicated. Taylor had promised to be there for her. Taylor had kept her promise. Everything would be fine if that was all there was to it. It wouldn¡¯t be perfect. Her old family was still gone, but she had a new family and that counted for something, right?


    But Taylor also wanted her to let go of her revenge. It didn¡¯t help that Yvette couldn¡¯t even think of a way to get her revenge, or that Taylor was usually right about things. It made her feel so helpless. What was she thinking about again? Oh, right, Taylor. She was standing with her hands against the stele and there was Light.


    There was so much Light.


    The glow of dawn shone in through the open rooftop, but it was completely overshadowed by the Light. Yvette didn¡¯t actually know how much Light that was. She didn¡¯t bother to try to determine how much Light was present. Yvette didn¡¯t really have a good way to measure those things. Not without tools that she didn¡¯t have, available only to those living in the east. The theory she had read about the Light talked about doing comparisons to lights summoned by sorcery. How much power would it cost her to summon that?


    It was a terrifying amount. Somewhere between destroying the city of Aisne and blowing up all of Procer. The last of Yvette¡¯s drowsiness fell away, and all she felt was alarm.


    What was Taylor even doing? Was she calling down an Angel?


    <hr>


    Yvette felt numb as she stared at the broken body beside her. Blood. There was so much blood. The fight with the Tumult had gone wrong from the very beginning. She had tried to help. Nothing she had did worked. Was that a bit of brain smeared against the tunnel walls?


    Yvette¡¯s breath came quickly to her.


    ¡°I warned her that you would drive in the knife,¡± the Saint of Swords dropped Yvette on the ground.


    Was this her fault? Laurence seemed to think so. Maybe it was. Yvette started to bawl.


    No, no.


    This wasn¡¯t okay.


    Taylor couldn¡¯t be dead. She had promised that she would look after Yvette. She had said she would be her ma.


    ¡°Come on, kid, We can¡¯t sit on our asses. Let¡¯s move.¡±


    It was just like the Ratlings to take that away from her. They would never let her have a family. Was even the smallest corner of happiness too much? Taylor¡¯s legs were all wrong. The left one was snapped at the knee and the right was driven through her gut.


    Taylor had promised.


    <hr>


    Akua Sahelian.


    <hr>


    The golden mirror clouded over and Akua turned back towards the room behind her. Her gaze settled on men chained, paralysed and, whimpering on the ground inside of her ritual chamber. Chained. She wondered why the thought bothered her. Not the pleading, not the cries, not the spilling of blood. Only the chaining.


    ¡°A Hell Egg,¡± Barika said from beside her. ¡°You are really trying to make one.¡±


    ¡°Start checking the ritual. Those papers on my desk explain the necessary corrections. Be sure not to touch the basilisk skin by accident. Even skin contact with it is deadly.¡±


    Barika turned away from her and began to follow her instructions.


    Akua¡¯s eyes slid off the half dozen men to the inscriptions surrounding them. A page from the Aspirant¡¯s book had been torn out and placed at the centre of the boundary as a focal point for the ritual. A circle ¡ª the boundary ¡ª marked the inside of the spell. She could not afford for the creature to escape by modifying its own bindings when her summoning succeeded. Already her mind had picked out the additions she would need to make to the ritual.


    Akua turned towards the desk to her left and seized an engraving pen, a vial of blood as well as another containing powdered walin-falme. She stepped carefully as she entered the chamber, making sure not to disturb any of the myriad runes inscribed onto the floor below. She knelt, taking care not to crease her silk dress as she did so, then began to finish this final series of corrections.


    Akua looked down on her work half a bell later, satisfied with what she had assembled. Leaving the chamber, she returned the remnants of her reagents to their rightful places, then entered the chamber once more with her ritual knife in hand and a banner in the other.


    ¡°I could find no further errors,¡± Barika stated.


    ¡°Leave the chamber.¡±


    Barika was out in a heartbeat.


    Akua walked around the outside of the ritual circle languidly as she chanted. She gripped a knife in her left hand and a banner in her right. She did not expect the banner to see use today - it was unlikely the demon would be found on her first attempt - but it would be remiss for her to not come prepared. The standard had been modelled on Triumphant¡¯s work, not just the bindings but also the embroidered design - a snake swallowing its own tail. With the help of her father, the enchantments had been refined - adjusted to account for the exact nature of the creature that she sought to contain. Experiments with the book had proven essential in establishing what it was that the demon could do.


    Akua¡¯s movements were unhurried, for the spell was a compound of many smaller seeking spells designed with the intent to locate demons. One at a time, each of the throats were slit.


    She came to a halt before the control array for the ritual. Her chanting concluded, the final man gurgled as his life came to an end.


    An inky blackness blossomed into being inside the barrier. These first moments were pivotal. Akua turned towards her instruments and made adjustments to the ritual as she worked. She had designed the spell to be modular. With the control panel, she could adjust variables in order to narrow in on what it was that she sought.


    One of her instruments let out a shrill whine, indicating that her prize had been found. Akua looked up into the blackness within her circle. Within it stood a tall girl clad in the attire of one of the priests of above. Akua was about to start the process of binding the demon when her paranoia called to her. She turned back to her instruments as a final precaution before she chose to act. It took effort to suppress the surprise she felt from the readings they displayed.


    Her measurements indicated that the nature of the girl was changing. It would not be long before nothing remained of what she had attempted to bind, and something else existed in its stead. She assessed the information she had a second time and came to an unlikely conclusion. The girl was either changing into an angel, or another construct that emitted similar levels of Light to one. Akua dismissed the first outcome as impossible, but the second was no more reassuring.


    The situation still presented a tempting opportunity despite the hazard involved.


    The creature¡¯s nature had not fully metamorphosed just yet, and Akua was capable of modifying her existing bindings to match the emerging nature of her prize.


    While she had come prepared to bind a demon, an angel was in many ways a much more powerful tool.


    <hr>


    Yvette.


    <hr>


    Yvette climbed off the pillows to her feet and ran towards Taylor.


    ¡°Ma, ma, what are you doing whatever it is stop it''s scary I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going to happen and I don¡¯t think any of us can survive that.¡± she panted and pulled at Taylor¡¯s arm, but Taylor didn¡¯t move.


    Her breathing came quick, ragged.


    What else could she do? Should she call the Saint? No, she would just tell Yvette to kill Taylor again. Or she would tell Yvette that it was perfectly fine. Yvette didn¡¯t trust the Saint. Huh, the shadow cast by that rock looked kind of like a sparrow. No, think. Can¡¯t be distracted. Her attention narrowed inwards from every animal on the farm to only the sheep.


    Right. How about a diagnostic spell? She needed to find out if anything was wrong with her ma. Yvette began to cast.


    The last word left her mouth and her spell took. Yvette frowned. Something was different. Taylor was changing. Was she dying? No, she was fine. There were also trace amounts of Trismegistan sorcery. Someone was trying to teleport Taylor somewhere, but that wasn¡¯t important. That wasn¡¯t what Yvette was looking for. But wait, if Taylor was different now, then how was Yvette supposed to continue her research?


    Don¡¯t scream, don¡¯t scream.


    She couldn¡¯t help it, she howled in frustration. The back of her neck prickled. All of her notes had relied on Taylor, and now they were all wrong. Well, not exactly. She just didn¡¯t have an easy way to continue.


    Wait.


    Something was wrong.


    Yvette frowned and looked at her diagnostic spell again.


    Someone was trying to teleport Taylor somewhere.


    Teleportation magic was ruinously expensive. How was that person even affording the cost? Components already in hand, Yvette incanted the diagnostic spell once more. She needed to verify the results.


    Who was doing this? It had to be someone from across the sea. Nobody else bothered with this kind of sorcery. Maybe Yvette could learn something from them? No, focus. Bad thoughts. They were stealing her ma.


    <hr>


    Yvette reached into her pouch for components, then turned to her gift and muttered a diagnostic spell. She fumbled it twice between her snot and tears. What was she missing? Was it an inkwell, a quill, or paper for analysis? No. She needed to focus. One more fumble, but the spell took.


    Relief flooded Yvette. She relaxed.


    Taylor hadn¡¯t lied. She was alive. Her ma was alive and everything would be okay.


    ¡°Even though Taylor¡¯s head is caved in, and her legs are a mess, I¡¯m certain that she¡¯s not dead. She promised she would be my ma. She promised that she wouldn¡¯t leave me, and I believe her. Besides, she¡¯s still alive, I can feel her. She isn¡¯t human like us. Just wait a little while longer, and she will be back.¡±


    ¡°Necromancy is dark magic. If she isn¡¯t dead, then we should lay her to rest.¡±


    Dust. So much dust fell down from above. What? Laurence wanted to kill Taylor? Why? Taylor hadn¡¯t done anything wrong!


    ¡°Just because she¡¯s not human doesn¡¯t mean she¡¯s evil. The elves exist, and they are a Good race. Think about all the good she¡¯s done, does that seem like the kind of thing an Evil person would do?¡±


    ¡°Harden your heart. Steel is the only end a revenant deserves.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s chosen by an angelic choir, and you aren¡¯t. If anything, that makes her better than you. So, if we''re using that as a scale, she¡¯s the hero, and you¡¯re the Evil monster who doesn¡¯t do anything except judge people unfairly and swing a sword. When have you ever built anything? She helped rebuild a whole city oh look, ma¡¯s woken up.¡±


    Wait. Revenant. Why was Laurence calling Taylor a revenant? She wasn¡¯t undead, she was-


    <hr>


    Akua Sahelian.


    <hr>


    Akua let out a long breath and felt her mind cool as she sunk into the meditative trick that her family had tortured out of the Watch. The quantity of modifications she had needed to make to the ritual in order to adjust it to the new nature of the creature had almost had her call the attempt at binding the creature off. Instead, it appeared that her contingencies had borne fruit.


    The bindings were not as thorough as they would be had they been purpose built for an angel instead of a demon, but the threshold for failure was within acceptable margins, and thus she was prepared to push ahead.


    Akua touched her finger to the rune on the standard, then triggered the adjusted array.


    She frowned as she felt interference from the other side. A single glance at her instruments reassured her that it did not come from the creature - it had mercifully remained placid the entire time. It appeared that another was making the same attempt, instead. This presented a complication of the type that Akua did not expect, but their first exchange had given Akua enough information to determine that her opponent was far less skilled.


    The binding would go ahead.


    <hr>


    Yvette.


    <hr>


    Her hand slipped.


    Oops.


    The spell finished casting despite her mistake. Yvette¡¯s eyes narrowed. What did she mess up? She asked it to determine more about whoever was summoning Taylor. That would be useful to know anyhow. She looked at the results.


    Yvette was not happy with what she found out.


    The point of origin the spell pointed at was somewhere to the southeast. Yvette wasn¡¯t exactly sure where. Her diagnostic spell had failed when it passed the maximum distance she had accounted for. It was too far away to accurately judge.


    That didn¡¯t mean she was unable to work it out on her own. Taylor had fought the Warlock before. Was that why Taylor was summoning the light? Was she fighting with the Warlock right now?


    Yvette¡¯s alarm spiked when she saw another spell start to thread itself around Taylor. It looked like the start of a binding spell. Yvette muttered out an incantation and severed it. Good. The problem was gone. It was only a few heartbeats later when another binding appeared. This one was far more complex than the last one.


    Yvette tried to shatter this one, only for her attempt to slip through it like a knot and come back towards her as an arrow of force. She yelped as she dodged. She concentrated, then made another attempt.


    It was harder this time. She needed to account for her opponent being tricky, but Yvette could be tricky too. The purpose of wards could be modified. So she started to corrupt the variables. It worked for a few heartbeats, before her opponent started to undo her sabotage.


    ¡°Whoever you are I¡¯m not letting you take my ma do you hear me!¡± she shouted out in anger.


    It wasn¡¯t fair. Everyone kept trying to steal her family from her. Yvette scrambled against her enemy, but they were clearly better at magic than she was. Maybe it really was the Warlock? Taylor¡¯s presence began to shrink.


    Yvette felt the early onset of despair.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare steal and bind my ma she¡¯s good and I know how much she hates being trapped I won¡¯t let you do it I won¡¯t.¡±


    No, this couldn¡¯t be it. Yvette wouldn¡¯t allow it.


    What else could she do?


    She continued to fight while she thought. Taylor¡¯s presence had shrunk to the size of the room.


    There was a magical law that prevented two bindings existing simultaneously. She could bind Taylor herself. Should she do it? Yvette doubted that Taylor would be happy, but there was nothing stopping Yvette from releasing the bindings afterwards.


    Taylor vanished from the room. All that remained of her was the faintest trace of her presence.


    Yvette panicked.


    That settled it. The other caster was far too skilled for Yvette to contest her like this. It felt like she was six years old again and her Da was shouting at her for counting wrong. Yvette didn¡¯t like what she was about to do, but she would do it anyway if it would protect her new ma.


    She would have to be quick. First she needed to slip Taylor free of this ward, then she would need to substitute her own.


    Could she do it?


    If she wanted to save her ma, she would have to.


    Three¡­ Two¡­ One¡­


    The ward was changed for a moment. That would have to be enough.


    Guilt ate at her as she began to incant as fast as she could.


    ¡°Four bars, unyielding chains;


    Cast in kindness


    Your servant beseeches you;


    Heed my call.¡±


    No, not call, Call.


    It was a plea.


    She felt something then as she reached out. Her call reverberated outwards into that non-space that Taylor called her own and struck against the changing presence there.


    Her spell settled into place. She realized then that she had made another mistake. Why wouldn¡¯t she? Yvette always made mistakes. She always forgot something. Normally it didn¡¯t matter. Usually it was fine. It wasn¡¯t fine now. The temporary cage she had made wouldn¡¯t work. It was designed for Taylor¡¯s old self, not whatever she was now.


    Tears of anger and frustration began to rain.


    Yvette felt a presence turning towards her as she cried. It was heady, overbearing in a good way? A strong sense of caring and approval smothered her. That was weird.


    No, it was Taylor.


    Her ma reached out and modified Yvette¡¯s spell before it faded away.


    She changed it so that it would bind her.


    The binding settled into place.


    Taylor appeared in the room once more, only a few heartbeats later.


    <hr>


    Akua Sahelian.


    <hr>


    Akua felt a moment of clarity as her binding fell away.


    For in her failure, a truth had been glimpsed. For the span of a heartbeat, Akua had seen beyond the veil.


    She had sought for some time to settle on the scope of her goals, to find what it was that she intended to claim. Now she knew without a doubt what that was. She was no Black Knight, no Warlock, no Empress most dread. Akua would not settle for an empire, a continent, or even the whole world.


    She was Akua Sahelian and one day she would not only inherit Creation, but everything else beyond it as well.

 Concord 5.00

    ¡°While it is true that there is nowhere an Angel fears to tread, I find that there are many places they don¡¯t bother to visit. A roof over the head is usually enough to avoid a proper smiting.¡±


    ¨DDread Emperor Abominable, the Thrice-Struck


    <hr>


    Out of my many out-of-body experiences, this was by far the strangest. I was asleep and I was aware of that.


    I also felt like I was wrapped in a comfortable, warm blanket, sitting next to a fireplace during winter.


    At the back of my not-mind, I could feel the changes being made to the shape of me. It was reassuring to find my faith reaffirmed. I had wanted some way to carry out my dreams. I had wanted some way to continue my goals. This wasn¡¯t what I had been expecting, but it was in many ways better than I had hoped for.


    I turned my attention back to the dream I was submerged in.


    The first of my ghosts approached.


    Lightning crackled. Five-year-old me whimpered in bed, before climbing out and scampering outside the room. She made her way to my parents¡¯ room. The door creaked as she let herself in.


    ¡°Mom, I can¡¯t sleep,¡± five-year-old me poked at my mother from the side of her bed. ¡°The storm is scary. Can you please read to me?¡±


    ¡°Okay, Little Owl,¡± she replied after some time.


    ¡°Oof, you¡¯ve grown so big.¡± Climbing out of bed, she reached down and picked five-year-old me up. My younger self squealed as she carried me to my room.


    She put me down in my bed and tucked little Taylor in, pulled up a chair beside the bed and picked up the book on the bedside table. She licked her index finger, pulled at the rose-scented bookmark within it, and opened the book to the appropriate page.


    ¡°Bilbo had escaped the goblins, but he did not know where he was. He had lost hood, cloak, food, pony, his buttons and his friends. He-¡±


    The dream faded.


    I was being made into a living story. I had expected to be turned back into a person. It¡¯s what had made the most sense to me. Instead, my other story was being¡­ personified. The end result was something alien. A living, breathing redemption story made entirely out of Light, but still very much a person. Nothing about me had been left out or abandoned. It would defeat the purpose. A redemption story had to include the bad for the good to be a redemption. That didn¡¯t make it less of an odd flavour of existence that I would have to acclimatize to.


    I knew that I was still able to fall. A redemption story didn¡¯t mean anything if the possibility of falling wasn¡¯t there. I wasn¡¯t sure what would happen if I fell, but I could do it if I was struck by a sudden onset of insanity. It didn¡¯t concern me much. I had no intention of falling at all.


    My second ghost approached.


    The funeral was grim.


    Dad was listless as we left. It was as if when mom died, he followed her into the grave. The silence was stifling as dad drove home. Younger me sat beside him and wondered if it was her fault. She didn¡¯t think it was, but she couldn¡¯t help herself from asking.


    She found it difficult to talk now. Difficult to express joy in the way that she used to.


    They arrived home and her dad cooked them a meal. There was no life to his movements as he worked. It was all mechanical, formulaic. He was like a computer program carrying out a script. Father and daughter ate the casserole together. Only the scraping of cutlery could be heard.


    ¡°Good night, Taylor.¡±


    ¡°Good night, dad.¡±


    The second dream faded.


    Each ghost was a part of me. A different person that I had been before arriving in Calernia. They were small shavings of my life, glimpses into my past.


    The final shape of my new existence wasn¡¯t all sunshine and roses. The changes hadn¡¯t finished yet, but I had undergone enough of them that I could see what was being done to me. The amount of Light I wielded depended on the strength of my redemption story. I couldn¡¯t be slain because I was a story and not a person. Well, my body could be dispersed, but it would reform.


    It was hard for me to evaluate how much Light I would have at my disposal without a good point of comparison. This operation didn¡¯t count. It was taking a significant amount of Light to modify me. So much that it couldn¡¯t be quantified from up close. I wouldn¡¯t have access to nearly that much of it. It did mean that for the duration of the miracle, I was able to experience what it would be like to hold the power of an Angel within me.


    It was terrifying. I never wanted to be responsible for this much power. I knew that I liked power more than most. That I needed it to feel in control. There wasn¡¯t any part of me that wanted to be in a position where smiting countries became something I could do in my sleep.


    I was both fortunate and unfortunate that I would not be having that problem.


    In more ways than one, I would be a lot weaker than I was before. I couldn¡¯t do as much at once, and I was more limited in what I could do. The Light was nowhere near as versatile as living life as a demon.


    It didn¡¯t mean that I was weak.


    Most priests had an upper limit to how much Light they could use at once before burning themselves out as a husk. My body was constructed from Light, although it looked like flesh and bone. I could use as much Light as my Gods made available to me without hurting myself as a result.


    Calling upon miracles would tire me, but it did little else.


    In theory, I could far surpass what I could do before in terms of raw power¡­ if my story ever became strong enough. It was a very direct way to encourage me to keep walking the same road.


    I didn¡¯t need the extra encouragement. It wasn¡¯t why I had chosen to follow my Gods.


    The third of my ghosts approached.


    Younger me stood in a line to use the pay phone. Her clothes were dirty, covered in mud, but her face sported a grin. She hopped from foot to foot with an energetic enthusiasm that she didn¡¯t even realize that she had.


    The line moved forward.


    It was eventually her turn. She paid, dialled the number, and fidgeted with her curly black hair as she waited for someone on the other side to pick it up. Finally, the call went through.


    ¡°Emma!¡± she exclaimed. Her voice was loud. It needed to be to ensure that Emma heard her over the din.


    ¡°Taylor,¡± Emma replied.


    ¡°Okay I gotta talk fast because I only have two minutes and I need my other fifty-¡±


    The third dream faded.


    It was me a few days before Emma had cut me out of her life. I had started to recover and was almost a person again.


    Relinquishing my stories hadn¡¯t been entirely negative. There were also new advantages.


    I was a story come to life. While I could no longer peak behind the curtain and see which way other stories would travel, I could view the lay of my own story''s past as if it was written on a page. I couldn''t manipulate my past at all, but I could read it.


    It meant that I would not need to worry about forgetting where I came from any more.


    It was also a much more useful ability than I would have thought. I hadn¡¯t given nearly as much importance to the creation of the stone in Aisne as Fate appeared to. It was the point of my story where most of my power came from.


    Knowing as much helped me to plan for the future.


    Something else I had struggled with was subtlety when working on a large scale. I hadn¡¯t been able to manipulate emotions on an individual level during the confrontation in the swamp without outside assistance. It was unlikely I would be faced by a situation like that any time soon, but¡­ if I was, I was much better suited to dealing with it now.


    The Light was specialized. It was good for some tasks. It would take me time to learn how to use it without assistance, but it was excellent at doing those tasks. I no longer had a general purpose tool. There were many parts of that which I would regret.


    Having access to the Light was not one of them. It felt like a quiet assurance of my faith. A promise that I was never alone.


    I turned my attention towards the Tumult. It had finished eating and fallen asleep in the time since its imprisonment. I wasn¡¯t even sure if it had responded to my message on the rock. I hoped as much, but without checking I couldn¡¯t be sure.


    Was I far enough away from it?


    The Tumult was a villain and while the Light felt gentle to me - it was impossible for it to feel otherwise now - I knew that it would be unpleasant for the Horned Lord. I was doing my best to make its stay comfortable. I did not want to wake it up.


    That was my main disappointment with my change in circumstances. It made it challenging for me to negotiate with villains. My mere presence would be unnerving for them. I hadn¡¯t met any that could be guided to a higher purpose, but that didn¡¯t mean that none existed. I was not happy that an already challenging task had been made even more insurmountable.


    It was not my only new difficulty. I couldn¡¯t use magic any more. I hadn¡¯t tried to, but I knew that I just couldn¡¯t. That was the other loss my twin had been hinting towards.


    While I could still read and learn the theory, the gift had been burned out of me. It wasn¡¯t done out of malice or an attempt to deny me of magic. It was just that in order to be able to channel the Light, I couldn¡¯t be able to use the gift. The two powers were incompatible with each other. It didn¡¯t make it any less disappointing to me, but I¡¯d already made my choice, and I was happy to have the Light. Maybe there were heroes with Graces that allowed them to overcome that natural limitation¡­ but I wasn¡¯t one of them.


    It stung, but I was okay with it.


    That might have been different if I had actually had time to become used to having magic.


    But I hadn¡¯t, and so I couldn¡¯t properly appreciate what it was that I had lost.


    It felt trivial compared to what I had given up intentionally.


    I had known there would be a cost to my decision when I had made it. The choice was one where I had known that if my faith was misplaced, it would kill me in the making of it. I trusted that my Gods wouldn¡¯t do that to me, and they hadn¡¯t.


    The fourth spectre approached, but I didn¡¯t pay much attention to what the vision showed. It was me after I had been broken down by Emma. These memories had not faded yet. While they had scarred over, I still didn¡¯t like dwelling on them. The first three visions had started to slip from my mind. I was glad to have those remnants refreshed. I wasn¡¯t sure how my Gods had found them again, but it was like a part of my past had been returned.


    The fifth followed - it was my time as Skitter - and then came the sixth. Weaver. Those were also memories that were vivid in my mind. There was no need for me to think about them.


    Someone was looking in.


    Without moving even a speck of Light, I turned my attention to the voyeur. The first feature that I took note of were the golden eyes. I knew that face. It was one that I had seen before, albeit a few years older than the person I had seen in the vision of Zain. Going by looks, I¡¯d guess she was maybe twelve to thirteen.


    Why was Akua Sahelian looking at me?


    I wasn¡¯t even sure she had been a real person. I had thought she was just a hypothetical what if conjured up by my mind. It seemed that she wasn¡¯t someone I had made up after all. It made sense. The dream involving Catherine was also false, but she was a real person. It just meant that I had seen an alternate version of Akua. Was she looking for the ghost of her cradle-sister?


    No, I doubted she would care enough.


    Everything I had glimpsed about Praesi culture from that vision indicated otherwise. I felt her try to bind me. I should have felt disgusted - and a part of me did - but a larger part of me felt amused. The Akua I had memories of had been smart. She should have known better than trying to bind something like me. Even if she ignored the fact that my body was in the process of being reforged by something equivalent to an Angel, Light in the much more limited quantity that I had at my disposal was anathema to sorcery. I could break what she was doing with only a thought.


    Could I take advantage of this?


    This seemed like a story. A story of an overly ambitious Praesi sorcerer reaching beyond their remit. I could go along with this and pretend her bindings held any power over me, then use it as an opportunity to try to drag her kicking and screaming off the road to hell. I wasn¡¯t sure how feasible the idea was. What I did know what that if I acted before she pulled me through, she would certainly have a failsafe to protect herself.


    What would Zain have thought of this?


    A part of Zain would have been proud of Akua, even if she also felt betrayed. She would have been proud that Akua had been strong enough to murder her. Everything about Praesi culture made me feel sick.


    I gave a small prayer within the confines of my mind, then began to change the intensity of my Light so that it wouldn¡¯t erode Akua¡¯s spell. I needed to do that merely to buy enough time to think on the matter. If her bindings broke while she was attempting to lay them, it would alert her to the mistake she was making.


    It was novel how easy Light was to work with. I only had to think of what it was that I wanted, and my Gods would help with the parts that I didn¡¯t understand.


    I still wanted to learn how to manipulate the Light myself.


    There was a difference between being guided by my Gods when times were hard and being fully dependent on them. I was willing to accept the former, but not the latter.


    I remained as still as I could. It was important to not let on that I had caught wind of what she was doing while I thought this through.


    What were the risks?


    Well, I¡¯d end up somewhere in Praes. If anyone could kill me, it would be somewhere in Praes, but usually the story involved in summoning something like me relied on banishing the entity and not killing it.


    What I was considering doing reminded me of what the Choir of Compassion had done to prevent me from killing myself when I had first looked in.


    Her first set of bindings were about to settle on me. No matter, I still had time to think this over before I would be pulled through. That was when I saw them break. It came as a surprise. It took effort not to react.


    Did I break them anyway?


    No, that made no sense.


    It took me a moment to notice the other person watching me.


    Oh, Yvette.


    The thought was fond, but also exasperated.


    She also should have known better. She should have known that Akua couldn¡¯t bind me, although I¡¯d give her more of a pass. The education I was trying to give her could not measure up to what Akua Sahelian was receiving.


    I didn¡¯t like how uneducated I was.


    I¡¯d take time to correct that after I returned to the Principate.


    Akua tried again.


    What concerned me is I didn¡¯t know how she found me in the first place. I could see her trying to bind a demon. Zain had been brought up with the idea that war crimes were a matter of faith, I could only imagine how much worse it must have been for Akua. What I didn¡¯t understand was someone from Wolof peering into the heavens - because the heavens very much were where I was situated.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    What had even possessed her to try?


    I ignored the vision of the seventh ghost - of the time spent fighting Scion - only to be confronted with one more vision. The vision of my arrival.


    Darkness.


    No light, no sound, nothing.


    An empty void stretching on to eternity.


    With nothing to observe, nothing to contrast against, my mind had numbed.


    I¡­ drifted, bereft of purpose.


    I drifted, lost in dreams.


    Then a sound, a voice.


    It reached out to me.


    It called.


    I followed.


    It was my lone anchor in the abyss.


    I arrived, only to feel chains try to tie themselves to me. It only confused me at first. I had been so lost - so estranged from myself - that I couldn¡¯t even muster the will to fight.


    I could hear people fighting. It was distant, as if I was listening to a conversation across an open lake.


    Who was I?


    Taylor. I was Taylor.


    My mind came back to me. It was slow. It was gradual.


    The scene resolved. Two people fighting on a rocky knoll. One wore a metal plate. It looked like something out of a renaissance-faire. The other wore blue robes. Capes. They had to be capes. The one in robes kept throwing lances of shadows at the other.


    Someone was trying to chain me.


    The robed man darted behind me. Why was I surrounded by blood painted on the ground?


    ¡°At long last, my scheme has finally borne fruit! Demon, I command-¡±


    Not again. Never again.


    The thought was angry, vicious.


    I felt something within me lash out.


    The chains tightened.


    I faded from consciousness.


    The vision came to an end. In the interim, it seemed that my daughter and Akua had sparred for some time before Akua eventually achieved supremacy. I felt myself being tugged in her direction.


    Was this what I wanted?


    Despite the good that I could theoretically do, I didn¡¯t think it was. It was an opportunity for me to attempt to redeem a sorcerer in Praes, but it felt like I would be abandoning my friends and family in the process.


    My transformation ended, and the staggering amount of Light withdrew.


    Then Yvette made one more desperate attempt to sever Akua¡¯s spell.


    I felt Yvette¡¯s clumsy attempt to bind me.


    It was just as ineffective as Akua¡¯s far more sophisticated ritual was.


    I felt like I was watching two intelligent teenagers make stupid decisions because they didn¡¯t think things through all the way. It was nostalgic.


    Then I heard a sound. No, I heard a Call.


    It wasn¡¯t conveyed in words so much as impressions.


    The impression of an empty home. A hearth with no wood, empty draws, a bed with no covers. The windows had no curtains and dust covered the floors. There was a cry. Tear-drops fell, but nobody was there to comfort her. I felt a pang of guilt.


    Yvette was worried about her mother being stolen away from her again.


    She was asking me to come home.


    An attempt to redeem Akua would not work.


    Not because it couldn¡¯t work, but because I was unwilling to pay the price.


    Even if I told Yvette what I was doing, she would feel like it was a betrayal, and I couldn¡¯t disagree with that. I had promised myself that I wouldn¡¯t abandon my new friends and family. That included leaving them temporarily to try and redeem someone else.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if it was a mistake to leave Akua Sahelian alone.


    But if I had to choose between comforting my daughter and helping someone I had only seen before in dreams¡­ I knew which choice I was going to make this time.


    I was done with making choices that hurt but were arguably pragmatic, just because they might be easier in the long run.


    So I reached out and answered the Call.


    The spell didn¡¯t fit me exactly. I slotted myself into it. The binding was evidently enforced by her Grace. There was no other way for it to hold in contact with the Light now that I had stopped stifling myself.


    It wasn¡¯t a well-designed spell. It looked like she was trying to tie up a donkey with a piece of string. A work of desperation, not a masterpiece. I didn¡¯t think it could actually compel me to do anything at all, other than appear in her presence. I could have done that without being bound, but I would wait before I disillusioned her. She was likely distraught and needed some form of reassurance.


    I understood why my daughter had done it, and it didn¡¯t upset me. She knew that with one binding in place, another could not be enforced. It did frustrate me that she hadn¡¯t stopped to think about the feasibility of binding me in the first place, but the intention was still good.


    Actually, maybe I was being too judgemental. She knew what my nature was like before she made the attempt, and all of her preconceptions were built around that. I was not willing to extend the same leniency to Akua. She was digging around in the heavens for who knows what reason, she should have known that she didn¡¯t have any bindings that could hold anything living here if it wanted them gone.


    And I was okay with being bound to Yvette. It was a decision that I had already made on my own.


    This was just something symbolic being made literal instead.


    I felt Yvette¡¯s binding settle onto me.


    I reappeared next to the monolith and felt something slam into my stomach like Roland¡¯s attempt at a curry.


    ¡°Ma you¡¯re safe you¡¯re safe I¡¯m so sorry I almost lost you I wasn¡¯t good enough and somebody was trying to steal you if-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Yvie. I¡¯m fine.¡±


    I would leave pointing out her mistakes for later.


    She looked up. Her emerald eyes narrowed.


    ¡°What have you done to yourself you¡¯re different now just think what you¡¯ve done to my research oh oh oh this is going to make everything more complicated you know I¡¯ve been trying to figure out how to shape the world how do you think I¡¯ll do that without being able to reference you.¡±


    Well, the concern did not last long.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me about your new Name first?¡± I asked, amused.


    Her cheeks reddened. She tilted her head to her right and mumbled something into the green of her collar.


    ¡°What was that, I didn¡¯t hear it?¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯m the Bumbling Hierophant it¡¯s embarrassing even my Name agrees that I always mess up where does the Name Hierophant come from anyway it''s not one I¡¯ve ever heard of before.¡±


    So it begins.


    ¡°It¡¯s a word from my old world. We¡¯re going to have to talk to Laurence. Come on.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°You¡¯re certain?¡± Laurence asked from beside me at the edge of the fountain. There was a lip around the outside of it that both of us sat on. It was uncanny seeing water flowing from something that had been left to gather dust for millennia.


    Her voice was measured, but I could tell that she was concerned.


    ¡°I am. We need to act fast on this.¡±


    ¡°Which stories cut deepest?¡± she continued to sharpen her blade while we talked.


    The noises grated at my ears.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted. ¡°There were lots of stories. I think I was better schooled in my world¡¯s stories than many, but I still only knew a handful.¡±


    ¡°And from those?¡±


    I took a moment to consider the stories that I knew.


    From fantasy like the Lord of the Rings, to the classics like a Tale of Two Cities, to religious texts like the Bible. There were a lot of written stories on Earth Bet, and that was only the tip of the dragon¡¯s snout. Then there was also history. From Artists like Michaelangelo, to inventors like Leonardo, to Conquerors like Alexander the Great, to atrocities like the Second World War.


    Mythology was the most concerning. Myths like Prometheus, Fimbulwinter, Apep, Kronos, Arachne or even Loki were all stories from Earth Bet. It was a little reassuring that they weren¡¯t exactly easy roles to step into, but that didn¡¯t stop them from existing. I knew nowhere near enough about Earth¡¯s different mythologies to grasp the full scope of the changes that introducing these stories would lead to.


    ¡­ So long as nobody stepped into one of them, I didn¡¯t need to worry about too much going wrong at once.


    Video games were another concern, but I didn¡¯t know nearly enough about them to even begin speculating on what stories would come from them.


    It was complicated by the presence of Earth Bet¡¯s modern history as well.


    My story was likely one of the stronger stories, but it was not the only story. The Endbringers had been terrifying, although I was less concerned about them. Calernia had plenty of monster slaying stories. The Ranger could do some good for once. I was more worried about the subtle stories.


    ¡°There was someone called Contessa who always won. I don¡¯t know enough about her history to guide someone into her Role, but we don¡¯t want someone with that Role as a villain.¡±


    Unfortunately, I could not pick up the roles of any of my world¡¯s stories now. I was limited to guiding them from the outside at best. Calernia¡¯s stories were available to me, or any completely original stories that I walked into on my own. I¡¯d go as far as playing mother to whoever inherited Contessa¡¯s Role to make sure that they weren¡¯t a villain if it proved to be necessary.


    The thought of someone like that as a villain terrified me.


    ¡°Other heroes need to know about this.¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯m taking it to both Cordelia, and the House of Light.¡±


    ¡°Those squabbling children?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the best way for news to spread.¡±


    I¡¯d decided that the church was my home. It was best to put my own house in order before I started to mend anything else. That didn¡¯t mean I was abandoning the ground I had made with Cordelia Hasenbach. If anything, I expected the two of us might see a lot more of each other in future, just for different reasons.


    There were many things that I felt I was not the right person to lead, but my own faith was not one of them. Even if I did not have the right body of knowledge to do it at present, I¡¯d put in the work until I could step into the position I wanted to take. I¡¯d decided that I was a priestess, and one day I¡¯d be the head of my faith if my Gods willed it.


    When we arrived back in the Principate, I¡¯d catch up with Cordelia, then learn whatever I needed to know to best fit the position I wanted.


    Somehow, I suspected that the plans I was likely to settle on would make a lot of people unhappy. It was too bad for the Principate that I had made up my mind about what it was that I wanted to do.


    ¡°They¡¯re good intentioned but ineffective.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll organize them and make them effective.¡±


    ¡°You should start in Levant then,¡± Laurence mused.


    ¡°The Lanterns?¡±


    ¡°They also know better than to try solving every problem with words.¡±


    I knew what she meant. Priests in both the Proceran and Callowan denominations swore off violence. I was not willing to do so, but it was not a requirement for the faithful. The Warrior Priests of Levant were more than willing to wield the Light in combat in service of our Gods.


    ¡°I fit in better with the Proceran clergy.¡±


    Just because I was willing to commit acts of violence didn¡¯t mean I was keen on the idea of hunting monsters in the forest. It might serve to prevent attacks on population centres, but it didn¡¯t improve life within those places so much as it prevented life from becoming worse. I wasn¡¯t an exact match for any existing variation of the faith. Fortunately, I didn¡¯t have to be.


    ¡°What about your other changes?¡±


    I reached into our bags and pulled out a knife, then cut my arm.


    Fake blood welled out for a moment, before Light returned it to wholeness only a heartbeat later.


    ¡°I¡¯m not physically human. I don¡¯t need to eat, or drink, or breathe, or sleep, although I am choosing to do all of that.¡±


    ¡°Kid, will we need to eat Ratling?¡± Laurence barked.


    I winced.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I admitted. ¡°I¡¯m limited to what can be done with the Light. Buildings can be done, but they will be temporary.¡±


    ¡°And I was looking forward to not dining like an orc,¡± Laurence complained.


    I couldn¡¯t exactly blame her.


    ¡°There is a way I could make food for us, but¡­¡±


    Laurence stopped sharpening her blade and looked at me.


    ¡°I have to use one of my Graces to do it.¡±


    I could use Persevere to help with miracles that the Light was not usually used for, however there were still far more limits than before. I wouldn¡¯t be able to perform necromancy, or summon shadows, anything that fell under the banner of Evil really. That didn¡¯t upset me. I hadn¡¯t been planning on leaning into Evil abilities anyhow. Creating permanent food was not too far diverged from what the Light was usually used for. It still felt like a waste.


    I could still - in theory - do large civics projects. In practice, I would need to plan out projects that were massive in scale before it was worth the investment. My immediate goal was handling the fallout of introducing new stories.


    It was far more pressing.


    That didn¡¯t make the loss sting any less, but¡­ it was for a good cause. I had known what I was giving up when I made the choice. While the Light was less versatile, it was the best at what it did.


    It was undeniable that my bargaining position with Cordelia had weakened. I no longer had economic leverage over whichever country I walked into. I wasn¡¯t sure if that meant she would no longer have any interest in me, but I believed that she wouldn¡¯t just cast me aside. Not because I believed in her being a good person, but because I had faith in my Gods.


    It did mean that our relationship would become much more even in the future. She would feel much less pressured to listen to what I had to say.


    But¡­


    It was fine.


    My Gods wanted me to succeed. There was at least one story on Earth Bet that ended in Utopia, and I could think of half a dozen more than that. Most of them were religious, but that was good enough for me. I was religious as well. It would just take adapting them to my own beliefs. Once I was done mitigating the fallout and making changes to the church, I would find whichever Utopian story best suited my goals and guide Calernia along it.


    ¡°Best not to,¡± the wrinkles on her face contracted as she squinted at me. ¡°Trust your choosing.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    It sounded almost like a reprimand.


    ¡°This trial is a test of faith. You will come out stronger for passing it.¡±


    I felt as if the test of faith was already over. I didn¡¯t bother to correct Laurence.


    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want me to try healing you?¡±


    There were more than enough stories on Earth that Laurence should be able to step into, even if I couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Don¡¯t cut yourself for my sake, kid. You said it yourself. You¡¯re stuck with the old stories.¡±


    ¡°But think of-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t weaken what you have just to make my passing easier.¡± Laurence cut me off.


    ¡°It will do the opposite.¡±


    I felt like if anything should be a part of my story, this should. Even my new biology didn¡¯t disagree with me.


    ¡°It¡¯s my choice, kid.¡±


    Fine.


    It frustrated me that she wouldn¡¯t allow me to try and heal her. I understood her rationale from the perspective of the stories that she knew, but it didn¡¯t mean I agreed. She believed that my story was a continuation of the ending of hers. That by bringing back hers, I made my own weaker.


    I¡¯d respect her choice, even if I felt it was the wrong one.


    ¡°I need a moment by myself. Do either of you mind?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t wander too far,¡± Laurence warned.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming with you I don¡¯t care if you want time alone maybe someone will steal you again also I want to go over what¡¯s changed about you I¡¯m not sure that I can learn from you any more, but I want to be sure,¡± she bristled as she talked. Her hands were balled into fists, and she glared as if she dared me to disagree with her.


    Dressed as she was in her green tunic and leggings, she reminded me of a baby orc.


    ¡°I won¡¯t go anywhere, Yvie.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t care!¡±


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    She pouted for a few moments. I smiled back, amused.


    ¡°Fine, but I¡¯ll summon you back if you¡¯re not here within an hour,¡± she relented, folding her arms as she glared.


    Brat.


    She sounded as if she was doing me some great favour in the process.


    I walked off between more of the abandoned streets of the Titan¡¯s city and headed back towards the section scorched by Triumphant. I went far. Miles away from anyone else. It took a while before I found a sheltered building.


    I took a moment to¡­ reduce my presence. It was a shifting of perspective - a lessening of the light that I was. I was still there, but people would pay less attention to me.


    Merciful Gods, I pray to you that this Horned Lord remains asleep.


    I felt a sense of reassurance from my family, but this was a decision I was following through with regardless. The longer the Horned Lord remained contained, the more damage was done everywhere else. It being absent was such a large upset to the existing ecosystem that I couldn¡¯t keep it on me for any length of time at all. This was a risk that I needed to take.


    The first two of my ghosts vanished as I prayed, and a Giant tailless slumbering Ratling appeared nestled inside the shelter.


    The Horned Lord remained asleep.


    I breathed out a long sigh when I saw that its dream had not changed.


    Good. I don¡¯t need to worry about having to kill it because it changed its goals.


    I hadn¡¯t truly been worried about it. The Horned Lord was thousands of years old. Any goals that it had were set in stone. That didn¡¯t remove the small voice of caution whispering at the back of my mind.


    I started to sneak away.


    The Horned Lord didn¡¯t wake up.


    I¡¯d look over the rock once we were somewhere safer. I was in the fortunate position that I was confident I could come back and continue negotiations alone at a later date. It would have been much more convenient if I could just sit around and resolve this permanently in a single sitting, but that was unfortunately not on the table.


    Easy solutions to problems didn¡¯t exist, as much as I wished they did.


    It was frustrating not being able to resolve this. I felt like I had been giving an unknown quantity of larger issues that made solving this one concern less critical. It wasn¡¯t time-sensitive, the others were.


    We had notes on the Ratling¡¯s curse.


    That was enough to research a permanent solution from outside the Chain of Hunger.


    Diplomacy with the Horned Lord would have been ideal, and I wasn¡¯t willing to just give up on it, but I needed to prioritize.


    It was time for us to begin our journey home.


    I had stories that I needed to pre-empt, a house that I wanted to learn more about, then one day to put into order.


    The rest of the world could come afterwards.

 Concord 5.01

    ¡°Never convince a hero that you¡¯ve backed them into a corner. The dawning look of defeat on their face comes at thrice the cost.¡±


    ¨D Extract from the personal journals of Dread Emperor Terribilis II


    <hr>


    ¡°Put us down if you don¡¯t want bolts for breakfast,¡± Laurence advised.


    My ball of Light continued to hurtle between the crags towards the fortress city of Rhenia.


    ¡°They won¡¯t recognize my miracle?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re a twitchy lot, the Lycaonese. If they see something unfamiliar, they shoot first and ask questions later.¡±


    I withheld a sigh and followed Laurence¡¯s advice. The incandescent sphere surrounding us slowed, then descended. We were all deposited on the cold, hard soil below. Not even a speck of dust dispersed as we touched the ground. The ball flickered, then faded away.


    ¡°You¡¯re really making us walk the rest of the way ma I was getting used to just flying like that in the sky there¡¯s so much to see from up high it also gives me plenty of time to read through the notes we made in the Titan¡¯s city undisturbed.¡±


    Yvette spoke from my left as she shoved the notes in her hands back into the satchel at her side.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that far to walk, Yvie.¡±


    ¡°But this is much faster and I know you said that we couldn¡¯t use it in the Chain of Hunger because then you couldn¡¯t focus on defending us but we¡¯re out of it now and have been for a while I like resting my feet.¡± She stretched like a cat as she talked, it was hard to see her face in the pre-dawn light.


    ¡°Laurence thinks it''s for the best.¡±


    I started to push Laurence¡¯s chair along the soil from behind. The wheels made a harsh, scraping noise against the uneven ground. It came as no surprise that we were one of the few groups of people this far out at this hour. Everyone in Rhenia knew better than to be outside the defences alone.


    Few would challenge that.


    ¡°She also thought we should eat Ratling again and you ignored that advice the first time you needed to consider eating one not that the food you made with the Light tasted much better so tell me what you think I don¡¯t want any more blisters on my feet.¡±


    ¡°You should spoil her less. She¡¯s like one of those flowery nobles down south.¡± Laurence cut in from her chair.


    We passed a nest of grass buried in one of the crags. A weaver bird let out a cry as we continued our jaunt.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see any reason to make my daughter¡¯s life worse. It¡¯s been hard enough already.¡±


    ¡°There is no keeping her sheltered. She¡¯s earned her choosing.¡±


    ¡°An artisan with a Name won¡¯t be in many fights.¡±


    ¡°Yvette isn¡¯t an artisan.¡±


    ¡°Do you think we will run into another new Name either a hero or a villain as we arrive in Rhenia itself like the villain we found in the small hamlet who killed all those children I hope not ma said there would be new stories but I didn¡¯t believe it until I saw that.¡±


    ¡°I hope not.¡± I muttered in reply.


    Yvette¡¯s eyes tracked something that was scampering around in the distance. She started to wander away from us.


    ¡°Yvie, focus.¡±


    She turned scarlet, then stepped back into my shadow.


    ¡°Fate doesn¡¯t cut that way.¡± Laurence denied. ¡°There are many stories, but only a few shitheads have Names. There won¡¯t be a Name if nobody steps into the Role.¡±


    The dirt trail evened out, then turned into cobbled stone as we stepped onto the road. Crags gave way to open space. Rhenia beckoned ahead. The torches on the walls shone bright through the murder holes. The city menaced in the dark.


    ¡°The Mesmerizing Musician was bad enough. Even if he was relatively small time.¡±


    He had been Creation¡¯s cheap knock-off of the Pied Piper. Same story, different book cover. It had taken us a day to properly hunt him down.


    ¡°It was good that you cored him like an apple.¡±


    The Light was good for killing people with long range projectiles, although I wasn¡¯t happy about having to do it. I didn¡¯t regret killing the man, but I was sad that it was necessary to begin with.


    ¡°I was hoping we would run into a new hero first.¡±


    ¡°Fate isn¡¯t that kind.¡±


    ¡°At least Rhenia¡¯s defences held.¡±


    ¡°Taylor.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re glowing.¡±


    I grimaced, then pulled my Light back into myself.


    ¡°I like that now I¡¯m not the only one who messes things up,¡± Yvette sounded like the cat who caught the canary.


    ¡°I¡¯m practising how to use the Light.¡±


    ¡°You keep saying that but I don¡¯t believe you I think you¡¯re just messing up by accident like I do but don¡¯t worry I won¡¯t complain it''s nice to have more in common.¡±


    ¡°No, really. When I shroud myself in Light like that, it improves all my senses and washes away my fatigue. You both wanted me to guide us out of there as fast as possible. Didn¡¯t expect to acclimatize to it so fast. Now I keep forgetting not to do it.¡±


    ¡°If you say it enough times then maybe I¡¯ll believe you after all you told us that you didn¡¯t actually need to sleep so if you don¡¯t need to sleep why did you do that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s smarter. Lets me discover what I can do. If I didn¡¯t experiment with it on myself, I wouldn¡¯t have figured out how to extend it to you.¡±


    The sounds of other travellers echoed up ahead. It seemed we were not the only fools taking to the road before dawn.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you could have experimented with something else instead but now you sound like me every time I make a mistake with my research I especially liked when you tried to stick Light inside a rock and it exploded.¡±


    ¡°I learned something important in the process.¡±


    It would have been convenient to know that objects infused with the Light were highly volatile before I went ahead and tried it myself.


    ¡°Mmmm hmmm,¡± Yvette nodded as she skipped ahead of us.


    Brat.


    Perhaps Laurence was right and I did give her too much leeway.


    She tripped on a rock and fell face first on the ground.


    ¡°Careful,¡± I admonished as she yelped.


    ¡°I was being careful I swear that rock must have appeared out of nowhere it wasn¡¯t there before I tripped on it,¡± she grumbled.


    ¡°Glaring at the rock won¡¯t fix anything.¡±


    ¡°Kid¡¯s got the awareness of a sea slug,¡± Laurence added. ¡°Need to hammer it out of her before it gets her killed.¡±


    Laurence will say something nice one day, and the world will end.


    We lapsed into silence as we approached the walls. It took a while before we came to a stop outside the weathered barbican. It towered over us. The polished steel gate was closed. A small crowd waited in an orderly line outside. My eyes trailed over them one by one, assessing their dreams.


    Dreams of marrying that girl. She dreams of marrying him. Both of them are too afraid to talk to each other.


    ¡°Say, Laurence,¡± I muttered from behind her. I didn¡¯t think the people I was looking at would hear me over all the other people talking, but there was no reason not to play it safe.


    ¡°Spit it out, Taylor.¡±


    ¡°Should I stick my nose in somebody else¡¯s love life?¡±


    Seeing people¡¯s dreams like this reminded me of Lisa. I¡¯d try to be more considerate than her when it came to using what I knew.


    ¡°No.¡± Her fingers dug into the side of the chair. Sometimes it seemed as if she was trying to break it.


    ¡°I think it''s a bad idea, but this dream would be so easy to fulfil.¡±


    The chains rattled as the gate started to open.


    ¡°Leave it. If it¡¯s easy, then it will come in time.¡±


    ¡°It feels like such a waste. There¡¯s an opportunity for me to do good, and I¡¯m just¡­ not.¡±


    Not that every dream I had seen was good. Some of them made me want to submerge myself in an ice-cold lake after observing them.


    ¡°Think with your head and not your bleeding heart. Keep to yourself if it''s not another would be torturer.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not. Just two lovers who can¡¯t work up the courage to confess to each other.¡±


    ¡°You should have cut the man down.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t persecute people for their dreams.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll know better in a decade.¡±


    ¡°I told the local priestess. She should be able to handle it. She knew everyone involved. We didn¡¯t.¡±


    There had been a few cases where I had warned the local priests. I didn¡¯t trust the guards to handle those situations with any level of care.


    ¡°I¡¯ll eat my own blade if you¡¯re not a jaded sack of vinegar by the end of the decade.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s more good dreams than bad, even if the bad ones are truly vile.¡±


    Laurence was about to reply when the gate finished opening. It wasn¡¯t long until the line began to move forward. We made our way along the most direct path towards the keep itself.


    ¡°You sure about this?¡±


    ¡°Speak up. I can¡¯t hear you over the din.¡±


    The clanging from a nearby forge were almost deafening. I wasn¡¯t sure what was happening inside, but it was hard to talk over.


    ¡°Are you sure about leaving?¡± I shouted.


    ¡°I am. My purpose lies on the road, not inside the church.¡±


    ¡°You could come south and help me out. Teach new heroes.¡±


    ¡°I can do more good here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still planning to fight from horseback?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°Save your arguments for somebody who can be swayed.¡±


    We lapsed into an awkward silence.


    It wasn¡¯t much longer until we arrived at the keep. Laurence and I were recognized on sight, although it took longer for them to recognize me than her. It wasn¡¯t long until we made our way inside.


    We were led towards a cosy parlour by one of the servants. The room was dark and had no windows, lit only by the light of a scented candle.


    ¡°Until we meet again,¡± I wished Laurence goodbye.


    ¡°Let fate never see fit to end you.¡±


    Yvette and I made our way out once more.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving already we just arrived why can¡¯t we stay somewhere comfortable for a few days,¡± she grumbled.


    ¡°We¡¯re not leaving yet,¡± I denied.


    ¡°Oh, then where are we heading towards because it looks like we¡¯re exiting the city.¡±


    ¡°Just a brief detour.¡±


    We headed outside the city once more into the surrounding wilderness. It took some time to find a place that suited my requirements. Yvette¡¯s attention drifted from place to place as we travelled. I almost had a minor heart attack when she tried casting a new spell. The sun was approaching its zenith by the time we stopped on a rocky outcropping. It was obscured from view behind a dense wall of fir trees.


    ¡°Now what this trip seems pointless there¡¯s nothing here I don¡¯t see a reason for coming.¡±


    ¡°This.¡±


    I finished praying. The stone appeared as two of my ghosts left me.


    ¡°Why are you carrying around a large rock is that writing on it oh.¡±


    ¡°You see why I waited on this?¡±


    Yvette turned her head from me to the rock to me again. Her hair bounced around as she did so.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think Laurence would have been happy about this and I¡¯m not really either but I can see why you did it but are you really even going to consider this it doesn¡¯t matter what it''s asking for we can¡¯t trust it.¡±


    ¡°Let''s read first before we judge.¡±


    For the standing duration of five repetitions of¡­


    It shouldn¡¯t have surprised me that the Tumult¡¯s response was excessively wordy. Somehow, it did. It took some effort to decrypt what it desired.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°We¡¯re not giving it what it wants right that seems like a bad idea to me imagine how much harm Ratlings can do with magic we should just be happy with the five years truce and find a solution on our own why is it offering a truce anyhow?¡±


    ¡°The Tumult is thousands of years old. Five years means nothing to it. Its demands are selfish, but they make sense. It¡¯s trying to solve the hunger on its own. Why would it believe our intentions are good?¡±


    ¡°But it wants us to give it books on magic and even worse it wants books on Gigantes magic how will we even get those and think about how badly it can go wrong at least that proposal about the killing field is sensible but it shows you how little Ratlings care about each other.¡±


    ¡°It never used sorcery when we fought it.¡±


    ¡°If anything that¡¯s even worse just think it means that other Ratlings will be learning sorcery we should just leave this be.¡± Yvette shook her head from side to side in anger.


    ¡°The hatred between the Tumult and the Dead King is interesting. It hates the Dead King so much that it''s unwilling to risk swelling his armies. Must be a story there.¡±


    ¡°Shows that even Ratlings knows how bad that idea is I wonder what happened there it must have a reason for that.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re taking this to Cordelia when we head south.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a refusal to consider this,¡± Yvette glared at me.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t,¡± I agreed.


    I was considering honouring it myself, even if Cordelia refused. There were obvious downsides. The risk of what the Ratlings could do with sorcery was one of them. It was unlikely that most Ratlings would ever have the time to consider learning magic, but¡­ it was still a major risk.


    The pragmatic decision would be to not risk it at all.


    The two of us hiked our way through the firs back towards Rhenia. The autumn air was nippy, and the sun had started to dip.


    ¡°Where are we headed now I want to rest we¡¯ve been on the road for so long now and it''s not convenient or good for research.¡±


    ¡°I thought you liked nature.¡±


    ¡°In small trips not spending weeks outside eating bad food and barely sleeping adventuring is not nice,¡± she flicked one of her golden locks out of her face and scowled.


    ¡°We¡¯re headed to the House of Light.¡±


    ¡°Oh you want to talk to them like you talked to them at the outlying villages warning them about new villains that makes sense but we¡¯re staying in the keep right?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re staying in the keep,¡± I agreed.


    I needed to send out plenty of letters. It was why we had made our way to Rhenia. While it was likely I could commandeer the messenger birds in any of the Lycaonese Principalities, I decided to play it safe.


    I¡¯d been trying to find a way to send messages with the Light. I was sure it could be done, but so far I hadn¡¯t been met with success. Every priestly miracle I was aware of relied on the properties of Light in some way, be they natural or symbolic. Speed and Communications were both associations I personally made with the Light¡­ the issue was figuring out how to manipulate Light that way.


    Almost every priest that I¡¯d talked to about the Light was exceedingly conservative in their approach towards using it. I could only partially understand their perspective. The Light was the power of our Gods. It should be respected, but that didn¡¯t mean it shouldn¡¯t be experimented with. I believed that anything our Gods didn¡¯t want us to achieve with it, we couldn¡¯t do to begin with. Limitations like Necromancy weren¡¯t arbitrary.


    ¡°Good it''s much nicer than anywhere else it means that I can get clean oh look at that shop the one with the tattered purple curtains behind the shutters the stands outside have all sorts of interesting things I wonder what that glass is for do you think they have something useful?¡±


    I spared a brief look at the shop in question on our left, then dismissed it. It looked like an antique store. We passed another two-story building, then beneath a clothes line spread across the streets.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to come to church with me in the morning.¡±


    ¡°But why ma I wanted to experiment with trying to amplify transmutation effects maybe I can do what you did before I had an idea for crafting an appropriate focus but I¡¯ll need help from a proper artisan and more silver than-¡±


    ¡°Yvie, make your mother happy and come to church.¡±


    Her eyes bored holes in the ground.


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll find some new friends, or even someone you like.¡±


    I didn¡¯t expect her to find any friends here, but with time I hoped that she would find some peers her own age. Being around people like me, Laurence or Songbird all the time could not be good for her.


    ¡°Ew no I have no interest in anything like that relationships are a waste of time why do you even want to go to church anyhow it''s not like you need to.¡±


    We paused as a wagon hogged the road ahead of us, then stopped again as a group of giggling kids ran past. They were fencing with each other using sticks.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to have no regrets. That means I make time for the things that matter to me. My friends, my family, and my faith. I lost sight of that the last time I tried to be a hero, and I¡¯m trying not to this time.¡±


    A familiar laugh up ahead brought me to a halt.


    ¡°Is that Songbird that sounded like Songbird why is she here didn¡¯t you send her away?¡±


    ¡°I did.¡±


    The two of us followed the trail of the sound and ended up at a familiar, shabby looking tavern. Both of us went inside.


    The place was densely packed. It was quiet in spite of that. A dainty figure in a shabby leather jerkin was sitting on a table-top. Two others were on either side of her. She was on the far right of the establishment with her boots on a stool, regaling everyone with some kind of tale.


    It was Songbird.


    One look at her, and my heart broke.


    The faintest edges of the broken remnants of a dream remained. Songbird has no dreams of her own. What must it be like to not have any dreams at all?


    ¡°-nd so I said ¡®prob¡¯ly gonna need-¡¯¡± she turned towards the door as we entered, and her voice cut off.


    The weight of the silence could crush the Tower.


    Her presence was large. Despite being one person among many, she seemed to occupy the whole room. It took me a few heartbeats to notice the identity of the people around her as a result.


    Roland sat to her left. He was wearing a flamboyant outfit and many pieces of strange paraphernalia. Metal armbands, gold spectacles, several gaudy rings. None of the items matched each other. He had several news scars since I¡¯d last seen him.


    He locked gaze with me and he smiled roguishly.


    I turned towards Songbird. ¡°What did you do!¡± I scowled up a thunderstorm.


    There is no way Roland would be dreaming of sleeping with me without outside interference. I refuse to believe it.


    ¡°And she arrives.¡± The third figure at the table spoke.


    It can¡¯t be.


    My indignation narrowed in on the figure.


    My mouth ran dry. I tensed.


    Death. Death above all else. The entire world can go up in flames, so long as she burns on the pyre.


    The battered silver flask and lute sitting on the table before her registered distantly.


    It was not her only dream, but it was the most prominent.


    It was also broken. Fragmented into a million splinters.


    And I was the one who had broken it.


    Death for the Dead King. She desires his demise more than anything except her own. The dream is more vivid than any except the first. Detailed. Extremely detailed.


    Her second dream was so complicated that I could not piece anything except the broader picture together at all. It was detailed to the point where I was confident that either she could succeed at it, or killing the Dead King was impossible.


    The third dream turned the first into a tragedy.


    She wants Good to win.


    I felt Yvette tugging at my robes. I heard her talk, say something from beside me. My attention was focused on the figure before me.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name,¡± my tone was flat, emotionless. It stood in stark contrast to the simmering pot that roiled within me.


    ¡°Lisa,¡± the Bard introduced herself with the same air that my old friend once had.


    Dark blonde hair tied back in a braid, narrow face, black long sleeved t-shirt and a knee-length denim skirt. It felt like I had come face to face with one of my own ghosts. A picture of my past come back to life.


    I¡­ I could feel insects crawling all over me as she talked. Everything about this creeped me out. I was being manipulated. Worse, I knew that I was being manipulated. I was aware that she knew about it, and I knew that it was working.


    ¡°Let''s talk.¡± I stated.


    It was hard not to put on a scene.


    The room was packed, but only five of us were there.


    It felt¡­ inadequate. Like there were no words I could say that would ever be enough.


    ¡°It¡¯s about time,¡± she grinned at me with a smile that I knew so very well.


    A smile that I knew meant nothing at all.


    The others all looked at me. Confusion reigned supreme.


    ¡°Stay with Song and Roland for a while, Yvie. Head back to the Keep if I¡¯m late.¡± Something in my voice must have given away how serious I was. None of them questioned what I said.


    She picked up her instrument and her flask and walked jauntily towards the door. I followed behind. Her path continued towards my original destination. She followed the route towards the House of Light.


    I doubted it was an accident.


    ¡°You¡¯re not her. Call yourself something else. Anything else,¡± I ordered.


    She strummed her lute while she walked. There was no order to the notes she played. Everything was discordant.


    ¡°No can do, sweetie,¡± she replied in an offhand tone.


    I caught up with her and matched my pace to hers. Crowds of people bustled around us, and yet it was if the whole world was silent.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know what I was doing.¡±


    ¡°And I don¡¯t even fucking know where Brockton Bay is, but I¡¯m from there now, and I¡¯m playing the Role!¡± Anger bled through. I wasn¡¯t certain if it was real or an act that the Bard was putting on.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­sorry?¡± I ventured.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what I felt. It was complicated. I knew that I had broken her dream. It hadn¡¯t been intentional. Some stories I had introduced had buried her own plans. I was also glad that I had broken her dream. It was horrible.


    And then there was the juxtaposition - my old friend¡¯s face with that dream hidden behind it.


    ¡°It¡¯s rare that I get time to myself. Rarer that I use it to bitch. Let me be the first to invite you to a club. It¡¯s fairly exclusive. Here, drink. You¡¯re the only one who likes this,¡± she shoved her flask into my hands.


    A part of me wanted to drink it. It wasn¡¯t like I could find that tea anywhere else. I was too distracted. I clung to the flask instead like a lifeline at sea.


    ¡°How did you take her face?¡±


    ¡°Welcome to the immortals club. There¡¯s only a few of us. My condolences. Give it a thousand years, and you¡¯ll also be a bitter old hag.¡±


    ¡°Did you kill Max?¡±


    I had so many questions. Too many questions. I almost walked into a wagon. It wasn¡¯t possible for me to focus properly. Our pace slowed as we approached the House of Light. I breathed in, breathed out, tried to centre myself.


    Her dreams are too big.


    ¡°You make me feel bad about being mad at you. It¡¯s like kicking a sad puppy. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a new way to kill yourself?¡± I tried. It was feeble, and I knew it was.


    Earth Bet had stories about people arriving in strange lands that had suffered through the apocalypse. Stories about people surviving the apocalypse. Stories about civilization recovering from the apocalypse. I didn¡¯t expect to be sympathizing with someone who had been attempting to kill the continent.


    I should have been horrified - and a part of me was - but it was horror at insight into a disaster that had already been averted. The doom never happened. That didn¡¯t mean the root of the issue was gone.


    ¡°Oh sure, forget all the new work I have. I¡¯ll just take a break and figure it out. Oh wait, I have no free time!¡± I had never heard Lisa¡¯s voice injected with that much venom before.


    I opened the door. She entered first and sat on one of the pews. I sat down beside her.


    ¡°Stop mimicking her. Please.¡±


    I hated that I was resorting to pleading. There was too much baggage here. Too much going on at once. She wasn¡¯t Lisa. She looked and acted like Lisa. The Bard dreamed of Good winning. She dreamed of blowing up the continent. She couldn¡¯t die. I had no way to coerce or threaten her. No way to convince her to act like someone else.


    I didn¡¯t even know where to start.


    ¡°This is your fault, pretty much,¡± she waved her hand in my direction. ¡°Wonder what they¡¯ll call the new Age.¡±


    ¡°New Age?¡±


    I passed the flask back to her and turned away. My hands shook. Looking at her was uncanny.


    ¡°It¡¯s still some ways off,¡± she said airily. ¡°The Age of Chaos sounds peachy.¡±


    I was about to respond, but the space next to me felt absent all of a sudden. So I turned towards her.


    She was gone.


    What should I do?


    I¡¯d only met two bards, and I was already starting to hate the role.


    Were all of them like this?


    No, this wasn¡¯t my problem. At least, it wasn¡¯t just yet.


    I¡¯d stick to my current goals. One step at a time.


    Giving suicidal immortal bards with now defunct apocalyptic ambitions a new purpose in life was the kind of problem I didn¡¯t expect to have. It wasn¡¯t as if I could kill her, and having her remain in her current state was far too dangerous for everyone else.


    It was also a problem that would have to be dealt with later.


    I didn¡¯t even know where to start.


    <hr>


    After the meeting, I sat there for a while. I was on my emotional last legs. I wasn¡¯t sure how long I was there for.


    Was this why my Gods asked me to give up my stories?


    The question ran circles in my mind. I didn¡¯t think it was the reason. It couldn¡¯t be so simple.


    The Bard had been manipulating me. I knew that from the very moment I had seen her dreams. They were too big, too complicated to be anything but the result of thousands of years of meticulous planning. The trouble was, I didn¡¯t know what she wanted from me at all, and I didn¡¯t have a way to get rid of her.


    ¡°Do you mind if I join you in prayer, sister?¡± A voice broke the silence.


    ¡°Sure.¡± I looked up. I hadn¡¯t been praying, but it was easy to see how one might interpret my silent contemplation that way. It was the sister that I had met the first time.


    Family safe. Looked after. Financial security. Ambitions of rising higher in the church.


    It was so nice to look at someone and see an ordinary dream after talking to the Bard.


    Her blue eyes lit up.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to count you among us, Chosen. I hope the road has been kind to you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Sister Olivia.¡±


    ¡°Call me sister Taylor then. Can you listen for a while?¡±


    ¡°If you find yourself troubled and need an ear to unburden yourself to, I¡¯d be willing to listen.¡±


    I started to talk, sharing my concerns about the turmoil that lay ahead. The sun had set by the time I was done.


    ¡°Keep faith, even if the future looks dark.¡±


    ¡°I expected you to be more worried.¡±


    ¡°I only burden myself with wounds which I have a hope of salving. Larger than mortal burdens are for your hands, not mine.¡± The smile she gave me was pitying.


    ¡°Will you warn people of the trouble to come?¡±


    Much as I wished she could, I knew that she was unable to do much more.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help to spread the word.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for listening.¡±


    ¡°Will you be here tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Do you mind if I lead the service? I¡¯m not a good speaker. It would be my first time. Meeting you was what started me along this road. It would mean a lot to me if I was allowed to preach.¡±


    ¡°You had only needed to ask.¡±


    ¡°See you tomorrow.¡± I stood up, and made my way towards the door.


    ¡°May your dreams be sweet.¡±


    The door creaked as it closed behind me.


    It didn¡¯t take long for me to make my way back to the tavern. I wasn¡¯t sure if the others were still here, but it was best to be sure. The place was quieter than before when I arrived, but it wasn¡¯t empty.


    My friends and family were still there.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you can tell us what that was about?¡± Songbird asked.


    ¡°Complicated. Have you decided?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sticking with you,¡± she nodded from her seat in the corner.


    ¡°I held you to be deceased,¡± Roland added. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for allowing the candle of hope to dim.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine, Roland.¡± I turned towards Songbird. ¡°We¡¯ll need to lay down some new rules.¡± I sat down in the empty seat beside her.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had some time to think. Tell me if these fit. You¡¯ll prob¡¯ly want to know my plans. So I¡¯ll talk them over with you. Won¡¯t keep any secrets.¡±


    ¡°How about lies.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep them harmless. Promise.¡± Her eyes bored holes through her hand. She drew a card, then discarded the Tower.


    ¡­ That would need a thorough examination.


    I was about to ask about Roland, when I decided to leave it for later. He and I could talk over both old problems and new ones in private, there was no need to have that discussion in front of everyone else.


    ¡°Good enough for now. About the Bard,¡± I looked at all of them. ¡°Did she say anything to any of you?¡±


    ¡°The Bard kept her tongue around us. We had no knowledge of her possessing a Name before you arrived.¡± His glanced up from his cards as he spoke.


    ¡°Okay. Tell me if anything occurs to you. Anything at all. Now. Can you tell me why you two are in Rhenia?¡±


    ¡°Went north after finding Roland. Found out where you went. Figured you would prob¡¯ly show up here when you returned. You¡¯d have to if you were gonna send letters. ¡®Sides, more trouble happens round you than anywhere else. Keeps things interesting.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence. Everyone keen to follow me back to Salia?¡±


    Roland looked surprised, as if he had expected me to step back into his shadow. That didn¡¯t stop him from agreeing with everyone else. Three voices were raised in support.


    It was nice.


    Nice was something that I sorely needed after glimpsing the heart of the Bard.

 Concord 5.02

    ¡°Always recall: While the Fae are bound by stories, they know more of them than you do.¡±


    ¨C ¡®Essences of the Fae¡¯, written by Madeline de Jolicoeur


    <hr>


    ¡°S¡¯pose you can tell me what the big decision was then?¡± Songbird asked while saddling her horse.


    The smell of hay and manure was thick in the air. I wasn¡¯t sure if filtering scents was something that I could achieve with the Light, but it was on my long list of experiments to conduct.


    ¡°Big decision?¡± I paused brushing my own horse and squinted over its back towards her.


    The sun had yet to rise, and it was hard to see.


    Pandora nipped at me. I yelped and pulled back my hand. It seemed she disapproved.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you a sugar cube later if you behave,¡± I told my new horse.


    Songbird let out an amused snort.


    Pandora flicked one of her white ears at me. She was allegedly a pure-bred Liessen charger. I was dubious of that, but wasn¡¯t about to press. I assumed Songbird was kidding about it. This was the wrong side of the continent for it to be anything but an amusing and ultimately harmless jest.


    If it was true, then I wasn¡¯t even sure how Songbird had acquired her.


    ¡°Well,¡± she gestured vaguely at me, ¡°you¡¯re not floating stuff around when you forget or cheating at cards. Half the time you glow, and you both look and sound like you just walked out of the church. Figured there must¡¯ve been some big change.¡±


    I blinked.


    Oh, right.


    I hadn¡¯t spoken to either her or Roland about what had happened yet.


    ¡°Complicated. I¡¯m different now. Can¡¯t do the same things.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose you can tell me what you can do?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m harder to kill.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know if that¡¯s s¡¯posed to tell me anything, it doesn¡¯t. Y''were basically unkillable.¡±


    I turned my attention back to Pandora. She radiated contentment as I brushed her down.


    ¡°I gave up the stories of my old world. Anyone can step into the Roles now. I can also wield the Light.¡±


    ¡°Lotsa people can do that,¡± Songbird did not sound impressed.


    ¡°I¡¯m experimenting. Seeing what I can achieve with it.¡±


    I finished brushing down Pandora, then fed her a cube. She was a far more greedy horse than Sisyphus had been. He had been content with not much at all.


    ¡°S¡¯pose that explains it.¡±


    ¡°Explains what?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not important. Anyhow, s¡¯pose we have lots to talk about.¡± Songbird finished up with her horse, then started to leave.


    I filed the deflection away at the back of my mind.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I followed behind her.


    ¡°Roland,¡± she stopped by a stone, square well covered by a thatch roof. She drew water from it, then started to wash her hands. I stepped out beside her and stood on the opposite side of the well.


    ¡°Yes. Roland.¡± I kept my voice flat and my eyes locked on the muddy brown irises of hers.


    ¡°That was a mistake,¡± she grimaced at me. ¡°Meant it as a small joke. Something harmless. Y¡¯should¡¯ve told me that he¡¯s attracted to intimidating women with more power than him wearing white. I prodded him a little, let him know what you¡¯ve been up to. His mind ran away with it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not intimidating.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m honest.¡± She blinked.


    ¡°That¡¯s the problem.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Even if you¡¯re telling the truth, I have no way of confirming it.¡±


    I hoped that Songbird developed a dream again. I hoped that if she did, it would be a healthy dream.


    ¡°Y¡¯don¡¯t need to tell me that.¡±


    Songbird stepped away and I took her place. I knelt, tipped the contents of the bucket onto the cobbled road, then lowered it once more.


    ¡°How do we make this work?¡±


    ¡°Like you said: I¡¯ll run any schemes past you.¡±


    I tugged at the rope, then took a moment to wash my own hands now that the pail was full. The cool water stung in the frosty autumn air.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t help with the lies.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose that¡¯s gonna be the dealbreaker, then?¡±


    Should I turn her down?


    I paused and considered what to say. I was conflicted. There was a lot of baggage here, and it felt like setting myself up for disappointment. It would be wiser to reject her.


    ¡°Things aren¡¯t going to be the same,¡± I turned to my right and told her.


    Songbird was juggling a group of rocks while she waited for me.


    ¡°Y¡¯really letting me join again?¡± she froze. The rocks cluttered on the ground.


    ¡°I am,¡± the words forced their way out of my teeth. ¡°I¡¯m never going to see my old world again. That doesn¡¯t matter. I would like it if the people there were willing to give me another chance if I ever did show up there.¡±


    It was technically Songbird¡¯s third chance, but it was also her last one.


    ¡°Things won¡¯t be the same.¡± Songbird repeated what I said in a subdued tone of voice.


    ¡°They won¡¯t, but¡­ maybe one day there can be something new.¡±


    ¡°Better than I expected.¡±


    I finished washing up and poured my bucket out as well.


    I leaned into the Light for a moment. It helped to steady my thoughts.


    Lying was important to Songbird. I was sure of it. I didn¡¯t know why, but I doubted she would ever stop doing it. That didn¡¯t mean I wouldn¡¯t try, but it was best to start with limitations that she wouldn¡¯t chafe at.


    ¡°Stick to white lies. Things that make people¡¯s lives better. If you¡¯re not sure, ask me.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose you¡¯re heading to the Church now.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get ready for when we leave.¡±


    She split off from me.


    Leaving the stables, I took a brief detour back to my room and made sure to freshen up. Roland fell into step beside me as I exited the keep.


    ¡°Fair tidings to you, Taylor.¡±


    ¡°Morning.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Yvie?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Your enthusiastic apprentice has seen fit to go on ahead.¡±


    ¡°Daughter, not apprentice.¡±


    ¡°Is the aura you radiate intentional, if it is not too delicate to ask?¡±


    I grimaced and started to will it away.


    ¡°Not intentional. Bad habit I¡¯ve picked up.¡±


    ¡°That was not a reprimand. The effect casts your features in a better light.¡±


    I stepped off the road for a moment and walked into a side alley outside a forge. The loud clanging from inside muffled the sound of our voices.


    ¡°I think it looks gaudy,¡± I told him.


    ¡°It accentuates your hair and draws attention to the brown of your eyes.¡±


    My eyes narrowed. I looked him over from top to bottom. Leather coat on top of chain mail vest, silver bangles, mismatched rings and silks of every colour draped across his shoulders. He didn¡¯t look like the kind of man I should be taking fashion advice from.


    ¡°Not to be rude, but¡­¡±


    ¡°My appearance does nothing to support the lay of my thoughts.¡± He sounded amused, but not offended.


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°My dress is for practicality, not appearance.¡±


    I was maybe willing to buy that when it came to some of the items he wore. I¡¯d been with him when he acquired them. The silks though¡­ No.


    ¡°I¡¯m still not enthused.¡±


    ¡°Then consider what it will do for the spirits of those at the House of Light. It¡¯s a clear sign of your choosing.¡±


    That was a better argument. I still didn¡¯t like it, but I was willing to give it some thought.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    ¡°That is all that I ask,¡± he winked at me.


    I bit my lip in thought. It was important that I phrased what I said next with care.


    ¡°Look, Roland. I know you like me, but a relationship won¡¯t work. You like to travel. That isn¡¯t a problem, but I intend to put down roots.¡±


    ¡°Does my intent to court you give offence?¡±


    ¡°Sort of,¡± I admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t like you that way. I¡¯ve always seen you as a friend. Perhaps something could develop there, but it would take time. You have a lot going for you. I just don¡¯t see you being happy with me. If you were to be with me, you¡¯d be chained to one place.¡±


    Should I have denied him outright? I wasn¡¯t sure. There was so much potential for this to end in tears. It didn¡¯t help that he had given up looking for me so quickly¡­ but I was willing to acknowledge that perhaps I was being unreasonable there.


    ¡°You are not planning to take to the road once more?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I will dwell on this, but it is my choice to make.¡±


    His dream had weakened, but otherwise remained unchanged.


    We picked up our pace once more and lapsed into silence. For now, I had no intent to glow.


    I felt both stronger and more at home as I stepped through the doors of the church. It came as no surprise to me. I also felt reinvigorated at dawn and drained at dusk. Times and places with spiritual connection to the Light caused my powers to wax.


    I made my way to the lectern after entering the House of Light and waited for everyone to file in. Only half an hour later and the place was packed. Sister Olivia gave me a few words of encouragement, then took a seat on one of the pews.


    I hope that I don¡¯t make a fool out of myself.


    ¡°I know most of you are expecting a reading from the Book of All Things. Maybe for me to take some time to talk about scripture.¡± I paused and surveyed the crowd.


    Roland was seated near the front on my left, with Yvie right beside him.


    ¡°It may come as a surprise, but I¡¯ll be preaching about something different. I come from a far away land and while I share faith in our Gods, how that belief is expressed is different. I¡¯ll be talking about why Good will one day win, and why our Gods deserve our faith in them. There will be some audience participation here, so when I ask for an opinion, don¡¯t hesitate to raise your hand and give one.¡±


    The audience looked surprised at my declaration. There were quiet murmurings in the crowd. That was only to be expected. They came to the House of Light expecting a sermon in the vein of what they were used to, and¡­ I spoke about something entirely different.


    ¡°Think of Creation as a game played out by those of us on the ground. The game goes like this. Two people play the simple version. There¡¯s a box and inside the box is two weeks worth of pay. Each person can write down whether they want to take all the coins for themselves, or share it with the other person.¡±


    The murmuring died down. I hoped that they understood the intent of my speech. That even if we came from different places and worshipped in different ways, we were faithful to the same Gods.


    ¡°If both vote to take all the coins, neither of them receive any coins. If both vote to share the coins, it''s all split between them. However, if one votes to share and the other votes to keep it all, the one who votes to keep it all claims the prize. They cannot communicate between each other while deciding, and nor do they have any idea who the other person is. Which way should the players vote?¡±


    I would have liked to have props for this, but unfortunately I didn¡¯t have enough time to prepare them.


    The hand of a teen with wavy black hair on the second row shot up into the air.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I think they should both vote to share the money.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Everyone benefits that way.¡±


    A man with a wrinkled face and greying hair raised his hand from the back row and croaked out a different opinion.


    ¡°They should both vote to take everything because if either votes to share then the other can screw them over.¡±


    The discussion lasted for about a hundred heartbeats before I eventually brought it to a close.


    ¡°As you all worked out on your own, the answer is easy in the simple version of the game. If they can¡¯t communicate, then they should both try to take everything. The end result is that both the players claim nothing.¡±


    I realized that at some point during my talk I had started to glow.


    I¡¯ll live with it.


    It was annoying, but I¡¯d already messed up. I¡¯d need to pay closer attention in future. It was so easy to slip into. Much like offloading my tells into bugs in the past. Except now, it was a small boost to how fast I thought and reacted. It was also far more visible when I did it.


    ¡°Creation is like a more complicated version of this game that repeats over and over. The rules are also different. Communication between players is allowed. Every person is another player, and every decision is a choice made in the same light. To be Good is to choose to face these choices with guidance, and to be Evil is to face them alone in the dark. To win is to have the most coins at the end of the game after playing an indeterminate number of rounds. Now, I know what you¡¯re thinking. If there is an easy answer to the simple version of the game, is the same true for the more complicated version?¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    I paused and licked my lips.


    ¡°There isn¡¯t,¡± I continued. ¡°There isn¡¯t, because people can decide to band together and because we learn a small amount about each other in every round that occurs. Our Gods are there for us and can guide us, pointing out who to trust with sharing, or who to avoid, or what strategies won¡¯t work.¡±


    A hesitant hand was raised in the crowd. It was an elderly woman who was seated close to what I presumed to be her husband. This was more participation than I had been expecting, but I was willing to play along.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°What about Evil?¡±


    ¡°Those who worship Evil can also work together, but they do so blind. Their Gods will not guide them. They navigate a world with selfish motives where the more they act, the more people they upset. To worship at the altar of self-interest is to play an ever-increasing series of these games, where everyone can see what kind of people villains are. A large enough opposition will always form, and see them cast down.¡±


    Another hand was raised from the back. Songbird.


    She had better not be about to cause trouble for me.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you can tell us why you believe?¡±


    Right.


    ¡°Our Gods deserve our faith because they have our best interests at heart. They do know better than us, they are willing to guide us, and that guidance is good. Both the moral guidance and the more personal guidance. Look to the Angels and the virtues they represent. They are not all the same, but all of them make Calernia better in moderation. So if you¡¯re faced with a problem you don¡¯t know the answer to, you¡¯ve made a genuine attempt to solve it, and you don¡¯t know where to look for help¡­ pray. Our Gods are always here for all of us, you just need to reach out to them.¡±


    My speech did not go on for much longer than that before we started to pray. My throat was parched, but I felt content. Their beliefs and mine weren¡¯t an exact match. They didn¡¯t need to be. There was enough in common that I could share the parts of my faith that did not contradict with their own. It was also something that I wanted to do.


    The rest of the hour was spent helping people out with more mundane complications. Healing wounds, resolving small disputes. The trivial day-to-day kinds of issues that I typically did not have to deal with.


    I was about to leave the House of Light when a girl ¡ª maybe ten summers of age ¡ª approached me. She was skittish. It was like she was trying to build up the courage to ask me a question.


    ¡°Chosen,¡± she greeted me.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°What oath did you give?¡± Her grey eyes were pinned to the ground and her chalk white fingers fidgeted.


    ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°I want to be a priestess one day, but I¡¯m not sure if I can swear off hurting others.¡±


    ¡°And you wanted to know if my oath was any easier.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I swore to redeem myself,¡± I chose my words with care. ¡°To always consider everything I did at least twice. To seek out better solutions, even if they are inconvenient. I promised to always be willing to accept guidance and to not be afraid to ask for it. For every step I took to leave me a better person than I was before.¡±


    ¡°I could swear that,¡± she muttered to herself.


    ¡°It sounds easier than swearing off violence. It isn¡¯t. Choices are a lot more murky when they aren¡¯t made in consideration of an absolute. You should also wait until you¡¯re older. Think things through.¡± She¡­ wasn¡¯t listening to a word that I said.


    ¡°Would you accept my oath?¡± she was chewing on one of her strands of platinum blonde hair while she talked.


    ¡°The oath isn¡¯t to me. It¡¯s to our Gods.¡±


    My refusal did nothing to deter her. She scampered off back towards her parents. Her dream pulsed stronger on the way out. She would be a priestess one day. I was sure of it. Helping her along her path made me feel warm inside.


    I said my farewells to everyone present, then departed in silence. The other three joined me on the way out.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t need to go to the House of Light to hear all of that ma I can hear it from you at any time think about what I could have done with that hour,¡± Yvette grumbled.


    I had hoped that she would change her mind on this. It could have been both a way for her to find friends and something to bond over.


    ¡°If you really aren¡¯t happy, then you don¡¯t need to come next time,¡± I told her.


    Not that it didn¡¯t disappoint me. Magic had been something we could bond over in the past. While I could still read through theory with her, she had far outstripped what I had known already. It felt like I was holding her back when I tried to assist her with sorcery, rather than helping her to progress.


    She perked up.


    It took a few more hails for us to all prepare for departure. The light of dawn warmed us as we set off into the mountains.


    The road south beckoned.


    I hoped that my messages were enough to start mitigating the new stories.


    I hoped that I didn¡¯t arrive too late to help.


    <hr>


    ¡°Just because Trismegistan sorcery is more precise doesn¡¯t mean that it¡¯s better in every case Roland I¡¯ve never heard of a Praesi sorcerer skilled in esoteric transmutations before and that¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to specialize in-¡± Yvette argued with Roland on the opposite side of the fire.


    ¡°If you would just allow me to expl-¡±


    ¡°And have you ever seen a Praesi sorcerer do anything like these runes from the city in the Chain of Hunger.¡±


    ¡°What about Pelagian sorcery?¡± Songbird teased.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bait them,¡± I groaned.


    ¡°Artefacts crafted using Pelagian sorcery tend to be remarkably long-lasting compared with-¡±


    ¡°If anything Pelagian sorcery is just a bad copy of the Titan¡¯s magic so I don¡¯t see any reason to think about it ma always criticized me for bad sorcery and that¡¯s all Pelagian sorcery is how long until the food is ready anyhow.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t what I had taught her. She had become opinionated fast.


    ¡°Not any time yet.¡± I replied.


    ¡°S¡¯pose those two won¡¯t stop arguing any time soon.¡± Songbird whispered from beside me.


    She turned the deer over on the spit in front of us.


    ¡°Not likely,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Y¡¯really arrived in Constance¡¯s Scar.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the reason I asked to take this detour. I¡¯ve not visited it once, and it''s along the route we¡¯re travelling anyhow. It won¡¯t even extend our journey by a day.¡±


    ¡°Well, when the ghosts attack us, I know who to blame.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried about ghosts.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not worried about them either. Light¡¯s good for killing undead. ¡®Sides, army of ghosts has Shining Priestess written all over it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not my Name.¡±


    ¡°Could¡¯ve fooled me.¡±


    ¡°Can you show me that harmonica of yours again Roland I had some ideas for foci for my own magic everything I do is a ritual of some kind and if I can design something that can act as a multipurpose catalyst I could make my own casting much easier.¡±


    Roland reached into his jacket and pulled the battered instrument out once again.


    ¡°I still hold to it that you should seek to follow a different path.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being too cautious ma always said that you were the more bold one when she talked about travelling with you.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose you can tell me what your plan is then?¡±


    ¡°Complicated. Heroes are in theory a part of the church. Short term: I want to give them more reasons to interact with the church. Create a body of knowledge for them to draw upon, or make tools available for them to use. Give them incentives to work within the system more. Medium term: I want to make their role in the church official within the Principate. Found a new organization under the umbrella of the church dedicated to regulating Named conflict.¡±


    They weren¡¯t the only changes I wanted to bring to the church. There were many others, but they were the most significant. While in the long term I was prepared to allow such an organization to regulate itself, for now I wanted to be the leader. Other heroes were far too willing to cut each other some slack. Laurence was blunt about how she only viewed laws as being there when they didn¡¯t inconvenience her, and I was sure many other heroes held to the same belief.


    ¡°Treading new ground is bold but also fraught with perils, Yvette. There can be wisdom on following a path broken in by others.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s nice but if the magic you used could solve my problems then they would already be dealt with.¡±


    Roland turned my way. ¡°It sounds like you intend to embark on an ambitious undertaking.¡±


    ¡°I do, but it¡¯s necessary. Heroes and Villains already operate under different rules. It¡¯s stupid to pretend otherwise. Better for us to define those rules and then use heroes to enforce them.¡±


    Bitter wind howled around us. The sun had set only an hour past, and early winter chills had begun to encroach. Farmers along the road had long since withdrawn to the safety of the city walls. I warmed my hands by the fire.


    ¡°How¡¯d you plan to sell it to the Princes.¡±


    ¡°I think that¡¯s the easy part.¡± I answered Songbird. ¡°There are no consequences for a hero chopping off their heads. Afterwards, there will be. Granted, there will only be consequences if the chopping is unearned but¡­¡±


    ¡°Many heroes will not agree to abide by these rules of engagement,¡± Roland warned.


    ¡°They will. They will face justice if they don¡¯t. In an ideal situation, we will have a group of heroes acting as a legal enforcer, but in the worst case I¡¯m willing to swing the blade myself.¡± I answered. ¡°Civilized society has rules. We don¡¯t have to like them, but we do need to follow them. I¡¯m not demanding that they stop trying to apprehend villains. I just want proportional responses to crimes. No calling down an Angel unless the world is ending. No inciting a civil war unless the alternative is worse.¡±


    I¡¯d only read about some of the more disastrous conflicts between heroes and villains. I¡¯d never seen the kinds of horrors the Dead King could bring to bear. Liesse was the closest I had come to witnessing something similar. That didn¡¯t mean I was prepared to sit around and wait for an atrocity to occur before I decided to act.


    ¡°Enforcement¡¯s nice,¡± Songbird flicked something at me. I ducked. ¡°S¡¯not like we don¡¯t need it. What you haven¡¯t told me is how you plan to get them to agree in the first place.¡±


    ¡°We need to convince more heroes to begin with. It¡¯s why I was disappointed that the Saint of Swords had no interest in following with. If we can find the more moderate ones and persuade them to go along with my plans, then the more extreme ones will fall in line.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯really willing to take a blade to other heroes?¡±


    I looked up while I considered my answer. Dense clouds could barely be seen between the leaves above. I leaned backwards against the wall of our shelter. A hallowed out hole in the side of a broad based tree.


    ¡°It would make me sad if I had to do it, but if I have to choose between sacrificing a city and sacrificing one hero only because the hero isn¡¯t willing to follow rules, then yes.¡±


    ¡°Can you shed light on how you would hold heroes of cultural significance to other nations responsible. Should the Grey Pilgrim be held accountable for anything within the borders of the Principate, it would result in a declaration of war with Levant.¡±


    ¡°There is already a pretext to go to war if something like that happens. I want the Principate to spell out its rules in ink to everyone crossing the border. There would need to be specific exceptions involving Named rulers, but I will leave defining those up to wiser heads.¡±


    ¡°D¡¯you think those rules will be taken seriously?¡±


    ¡°Not until the first hero is held accountable. That¡¯s when people will realize that we mean what we say. If it works well enough, then other nations in Calernia will begin to copy the system.¡±


    ¡°And what of villains? You risk allowing them to escape justice by tying the hands of heroes.¡± I noticed that Roland was careful to avoid talking about his own skirting of the law.


    ¡°We¡¯ve always fought with restrictions. That¡¯s part of what makes us heroes. It¡¯s the villains that believe everything is acceptable. I¡¯m just asking us to define those restrictions for everyone.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose something happens where you think the law you defined is wrong in a given circumstance.¡±


    ¡°Then either we revisit the law itself ¡ª and have the change voted on by others ¡ª or we follow through with it.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know you weren¡¯t this concerned about this before we split up.¡±


    ¡°That was before there were billions of new Roles people could step into. I don¡¯t know how many people with Names there are, but there aren¡¯t many. There were probably more heroes and villains in my city of birth than across this whole continent. The chances of Named conflict occurring was relatively low before. That won¡¯t be true for much longer.¡±


    All of them were aware that my world of birth and this one were not comparable in nature, but the point still stood. Even if I assumed that only a fraction of a fraction of a percent of people had the willpower to earn a Name, there were now far more Roles for them to potentially step into. Some would have likely gone without a Name before.


    ¡°I find your assessment to be both plausible and concerning when viewed in light of that.¡± Roland ran one of his hands through his hair as he spoke.


    ¡°S¡¯pose it could work. M¡¯not sure how fast you could do it, but it''s one of your better ideas. I can help find the people you need to gab with. Finances, logistics, everything else.¡±


    ¡°That works. I¡¯ve already got some idea about whom I need to speak to. I learned from Cordelia. That doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t do better. Talk to me before you do anything, though.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know I will. I promised to.¡±


    We¡¯ll see if that promise holds.


    ¡°What about me ma what can I do to help?¡± Yvette asked, looking up from the harmonica.


    ¡°You can take a break. Use this as an opportunity to advance your craft.¡±


    Should I suggest she looks for friends as well? No. It would offend her and do nothing to change her mind. Concern for her bubbled in my chest. She needed to spend time around someone other than us.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you could help me out, Roland? Y¡¯could find me some help we¡¯ll need. Heroes both new and old. We¡¯ll prob¡¯ly need to find every hero in the Principate for something like this.¡±


    ¡°I am amenable to this agreement¡±


    Conversation shifted. Roland and Yvette started to bicker once again.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not following.¡±


    ¡°Travelling in a group like this,¡± I explained.


    ¡°It is,¡± Songbird agreed.


    I took a few moments to check on our horses, then returned once dinner was ready. Night duties were assigned. I¡¯d take the last watch. Everyone except Songbird turned in for the evening.


    A muttered prayer and a translucent dome of Light manifested around us. It glowed, but the glow was faint, giving off less light than the fire. I wasn¡¯t sure if there were any ghosts nearby, but there was no reason to take risks.


    It was a matter of moments before my mind drifted into a land of dreams.


    I was woken up when it was my turn to take watch. Pushing myself out from under my bedding, I examined the countryside. Everything outside our bubble was coated in a light dusting of white.


    At least we weren¡¯t attacked by ghosts.


    There had been more than a few people that had muttered about ghosts on our way down here, but we had yet to see any of them. That didn¡¯t mean there weren¡¯t any ¡ª where there was smoke there was fire ¡ª but we had been left alone.


    It wasn¡¯t long until dawn arrived. After an early morning meal, we were all back on the road.


    The closer we drew to Constance¡¯s Scar, the more unnerving the world became. It was hard to put a finger on what it was that bothered me. The wind trailed in ways that sounded like lost voices. I¡¯d see what I thought were figures out of the corners of my eyes, only for it to be the movement of grass.


    We stopped while I took a moment to ask my family for advice. This wasn¡¯t the kind of place I wanted to enter blind. My queries had been met with sadness at the tragedy and whispered murmurs that there were no ghosts to be found.


    We picked up our pace once more.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, that looks like a city in the distance,¡± Songbird pointed from her mount beside me.


    I followed the trail of her finger. For a moment I could see what she said. A spectral city. It vanished when I faced it head on.


    ¡°Oh oh oh I think I figured it out I know what¡¯s wrong here it also makes perfect sense the veil is thin at Constance¡¯s Scar and parts of Arcadia are leaking through that¡¯s why the world is so weird I wonder if that means we can meet some Fae maybe they have things that would help me?¡±


    ¡°No bargaining with the Fae, Yvie.¡± Yvette pouted.


    ¡°I hold her conclusion to be correct.¡± Roland added. He could always be counted on to be the voice of reason.


    ¡°But there¡¯s so much I could learn from them why-¡±


    ¡°No. The Fae would bargain for your soul.¡±


    We pressed on, more alert than before. Soon we drew near the site of the tragedy. A blackened crater carved into the earth. Glass glimmered on the surface of it, from one side to the other. Snow fell, but did not stick to the surface.


    It vanished before it touched the ground.


    I wasn¡¯t willing to take even a single step inside the disaster zone before sorcerers had examined the site. I suspected ¡ª but did not know ¡ª that doing so would shift anyone who did so from Creation to Arcadia. That wasn¡¯t a risk I was currently willing to take. I didn¡¯t think it would have negative consequences, but it was better to be cautious than stuck in a Fae court.


    Everyone was subdued.


    ¡°Feels strange being back here. I don¡¯t have any memories of the place, but I feel like I should.¡±


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly feels like meeting someone you forgot?¡±


    ¡°Not quite, but almost.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose this place is going to be a problem?¡± Songbird asked from the back of her horse. Flakes of snow dusted her hair, making her look like some kind of spotted fox.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I disagreed. ¡°It¡¯s in the middle of nowhere. Cordelia wanted to organize sorcerers inside the Principate. This gives them a good place to build around. You saw how Yvie was pouting because she couldn¡¯t investigate further. So long as the Scar is handled responsibly, there are plenty of ways it could be useful. It would be fitting for the place of a tragedy to be repurposed into something that benefitted others.¡±


    Pandora whinnied nervously from beneath me. She was far more mischievous than Sisyphus had been. I had to be careful when handling her. She liked to bite.


    ¡°M¡¯not so sure of that.¡±


    ¡°Time flows at a different rate in Arcadia. I don¡¯t know if there is a way into Arcadia from here, but even the possibility of using this as a place to travel from could be useful.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯sure fixing this isn¡¯t an option?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s possible, but time-consuming. It would take a significant quantity of Light to do it. I¡¯m not willing to dedicate my time to that until we¡¯ve established that it is a problem and not an opportunity. It¡¯s not close enough to any population centres to be a concern if it was properly managed. The issue is that nobody is doing so. Warn people not to travel nearby and set up protections, then the place is safe. I see this more as a resource which is out of the way and needs someone to look after it.¡±


    ¡°I find myself in accord with Songbird,¡± Roland added.


    ¡°I¡¯m not ruling out mending this, but¡­ let¡¯s see what other people say first.¡± I sighed.


    I felt like Constance¡¯s Scar was closer to a zoo for dangerous animals than a legitimate concern. If you stepped into the cage, then you shouldn¡¯t be surprised if the animals took a bite at you. I would have been more concerned if the veil had been weakened closer to a town or city. It hadn¡¯t. Constance¡¯s Scar was remote. The worst that would happen was a frozen crater even if something like the Prince of Nightfall wandered out here, provided the place was properly contained.


    ¡°Y¡¯really sure there are no ghosts?¡±


    ¡°The cherubs give no warning about the risk of undead.¡±


    Their assurance was all that I needed. I wasn¡¯t sure why the Fae were pretending to be ghosts. I was willing to bet that it was some kind of performance, but not one that I could untangle without more details. Regardless, this was a situation for sorcerers and not priests.


    ¡°I agree with Taylor I haven¡¯t ever had the opportunity to examine Winter before but this place has the feel of it.¡±


    ¡°I hold Yvette¡¯s supposition to be the correct one, although still maintain that this location should be cleansed.¡± Roland was examining the crater with a pair of blue spectacles while he talked. His irises shifted from olive to sapphire, and his fingers twitched while he talked.


    ¡°Y¡¯know you sorcerers and priests are mad. Any sane person takes one look at this and sees a catastrophe in the making, not something to mess around with.¡± Songbird muttered under her breath.


    ¡°Thought you liked trouble.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s mischief and then there are holes in the ground radiating fuck off.¡± She shuddered while she spoke.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t count you as being superstitious.¡±


    Songbird made an obscene gesture my way, then remembered where she was. She stiffened, then looked from one side to the other.


    ¡°Nothing took offence,¡± she sounded relieved as she whispered to herself.


    We spared a few moments of silence to drink in the tragedy before departing. No ghosts harried us on our way out as we continued our journey to Salia. That didn¡¯t mean there weren¡¯t any, but I was leaning more towards the Fae making trouble for people than anything else.

 Concord 5.0a

    ¡°A land in chaos is one rife with opportunity, a land in order is one absent of it. Those who seek to accrue wealth should never shy away from sowing discord, for opportunity is where profits are made.¡±


    ¨C Extract from ¡°Bought and Sold¡±, a collection of the teachings of the Merchant Prince Irenos, founder of Mercantis


    <hr>


    Wekesa looked down at the instruments on his work bench and considered the readings from them. With a deft hand, he jotted them down in a leather-bound journal. In most cases he would use magic for record keeping, but these tools were so sensitive that even the faintest of sorceries would interfere with the results.


    ¡°Masego, have you confirmed the measurements on the outer boundaries?¡± he called out, turning away from his desk to the boy.


    Across from him, at a table to his left, stood a dark skinned pudgy Soninke boy, not even twelve years old. His long hair, normally divided into half a dozen braids, was instead carefully tied back. Some of it had become caught in one of the instruments earlier, skewing their results.


    ¡°Yes, father,¡± the boy¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°There has been a shift in the boundaries of Creation. Whilst I have been unable to determine the exact cause of the phenomenon, I have narrowed down the source to somewhere within the Chain of Hunger.¡±


    Which matched up with his own findings as well. The specifics had yet to be determined. It would likely take months of careful experimentation to reach any conclusive results. Regardless, it was confirmed that only a week past, something within the Chain of Hunger had mutated parts of the underlying nature of Creation.


    He was yet to determine exactly what had changed. Were he at the source of the phenomenon, it would have been easier to perform more detailed analysis. It was unfortunate that an excursion into the Chain of Hunger could not fit into his itinerary. The echoes from the event would have faded by the time he would have arrived. There would be no detectable residue left to examine.


    It made the process more complicated and added additional steps that there otherwise wouldn¡¯t be. In this case, that would merely delay the inevitable, not prevent it. Sooner or later, he would discover exactly what had evolved.


    ¡°Initial readings suggest a shift in the Fae Courts. Either a change in the existing Courts, or the formation of a new one. The focus of the experiments should be adjusted to account for this. Father, we could be seeing the birth of a new Court,¡± Masego continued, sounding excited.


    Carefully resetting the instruments on his table, Wekesa began the process of scraping the now tainted ground devil off of the disk in front of him. Then, he reached for a vial on the desk, carefully removed the stopper and sprinkled a few fresh grains onto the device.


    He was measuring how exposure to different kinds of magical phenomenon influenced devil residue. While the core nature of a devil did not change, with age, their expression of that nature would become more nuanced. With experimentation done in the past, he had developed methods for directed changes among the more simplistic types of devils. The research had yet to yield results among more complicated specimens, but that was not what interested him presently.


    What drew his attention was the results of the original experiments. He had compiled comprehensive notes on them, proving the basis for his work without a doubt. The measurements he had taken had left no room for error, and now they were being thrown entirely off.


    Whatever had occurred in the Chain of Hunger, the possibility existed that it had rewritten parts of the fabric of Calernia.


    Wekesa stroked his beard in thought. Best to repeat the experiment once more, before moving on to the next set of tests. He needed to be certain the results could be replicated, else they were not valid at all.


    ¡°We will have to wait for further results before we can make any claims one way or another. Adjusting the parameters so early on creates room for errors to slip in,¡± Wekesa admonished.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Masego reponded absently.


    While a new Fae Court was the most likely explanation, it was not the only one, and narrowing their focus in before they had a better idea would only contaminate the results. The possibilities ranged from the most likely ¡ª a change in the Courts ¡ª to the least likely ¡ª a change in the Creational Laws. Wekesa did not want to waste months performing experiments based on a faulty set of assumptions on his part.


    It was best that he remained rigorous.


    Ever since that ripple in Creation from Bayeux, oddities had been popping up. The city that later became known as Constance¡¯s Scar had been the first of many irregularities. It made for fascinating research. Disregarding the fact that it had arguably set back his efforts to map the boundaries of creation by years, it still left him in an amicable mood. It was an academic enigma that had done much to refine his understanding of magic, even as it overturned thousands of years of research.


    Before he had encountered the outsider, he would not have considered it possible for a being of pure essence to earn a Name. The specimen had been new to its Role, clearly unused to having a Name, but that was irrelevant. Irrespective of its experience, its mere existence had startling implications. Was it then possible for Devils and the Fae to also achieve the same?


    Wekesa found the notion that the name was heroic to be extraordinarily amusing.


    The specimen¡¯s essence was corruptive to the fabric of Creation. It shared this similarity with demons. Unlike demons, the corruption seemed superfluous. It could be compared to a layer of oil atop water. The water below was not disturbed, even if the light which passed through came out the other side different to how it had entered.


    It was not one of the traditional twenty-three kinds of demons, instead it seemed to be something entirely different. The possibility existed that it was an undiscovered type, but Wekesa considered that to be unlikely.


    There was too much evidence hinting at something else.


    His research suggested it was an intelligent creature, possibly a person, who came from outside the outer spheres.


    The implications were staggering.


    It opened the possibility that there were inhabitable places beyond the Gods'' remit.


    That was not to say that this creature came from such a place. It might very well just be from another Creation made by the Gods. A creation that obeyed a different set of axioms. Even that had the potential for so many new discoveries. If there was another Creation, and it could be reached, it presented opportunities for performing a comparative analysis between two different sets of Creational boundaries. With a larger set of examples to work with, it might be possible for him to engineer something similar of his own.


    The idea had made Wekesa more eager to continue his research than ever before.


    Surely there was no better time to live as the Warlock. A lack of knowledge was always the greatest limitation, and new frontiers had opened for exploration.


    Idly, he wondered what kinds of rules such a place might follow. Maybe devils were fixed in number and angels were variable. Would villains win more often than heroes there? No, it was better for him not to make any assumptions until more had been established.


    Containing the entity had not been difficult. It lacked the necessary experience to fight him, although it learned fast.


    It was a pity that the specimen had managed to escape. Were his containment not interrupted by the Rogue Sorcerer, the experimental data that could be obtained from it might give birth to an entire new dedicated school of magic. To his annoyance, not only had the Rogue Sorcerer managed to flee, he had stolen some of Wekesa¡¯s magic during his escape.


    The chime of the doorbell pulled him out of his musings.


    ¡°Masego, go see who it is,¡± he called out.


    Hopefully it wasn¡¯t another priest. They did not show up at his residence often, but some never learned any better. Wekesa thought that after the fifth one he turned into a chamber pot, they would have received the message. Unfortunately, it appeared that the clergy were more academically challenged than even he had expected them to be.


    ¡°Yes, father,¡± Masego replied.


    Masego left the room, while Wekesa continued to go through with the experiment. Moments later and Masego returned.


    ¡°So, who was it?¡± he asked.


    ¡°A messenger from the Legions,¡± Masego answered, making his way to his desk.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Wekesa turned around, facing the boy.


    ¡°Well, why didn¡¯t you let them in?¡±


    Masego continued digging through vials on his desk and answered without turning around.


    ¡°Was I supposed to? You only told me to go look.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you were supposed to let them in.¡± Wekesa tried not to sigh.


    The boy was brilliant at magic, but was sadly blind when it came to anything else.


    Disappearing again, his son returned not long after with a pale faced messenger in tow. After the traditional legion salute, she passed him a written message and left.


    The Eyes had found another hero that had shown up in Callow. Ever since the Rogue Sorcerer had escaped, they had tightened their security. They could not afford a repeat of that kind of fiasco. The man had run into the Waning Woods and hadn¡¯t been seen since. It was likely that he had been slain by the Fae, but you couldn¡¯t count out heroes until you had seen the corpse.


    <hr>


    Black would have taken more time to prepare for this encounter were it not for the risk of another city being put to the torch. Three dozen legion soldiers had attempted to pepper her with bolts in the first encounter. Their efforts had yielded no results.


    Two bolts from the rooftops hammered at the location of his foe from either side. The girl shrieked, blasted out a cone of flame at one of them, then reappeared inside the blaze. Another failed shot, but it didn''t matter. Black was a full street over. He remained shrouded in shadows as the fight progressed.


    ¡°I can burn the shadow man,¡± the eerie voice of his opponent crooned. It could be heard calling out from every fire that she had set. ¡°The night is dark and cold, but flames bring light to darkness.¡±


    The girl¡¯s speech had never been coherent while they fought, although that was allegedly not always true. Witnesses claimed that her words had been comprehensible when she first spoke outside the Laure House for Tragically Orphaned Girls. That is ¡ª before she had torched it.


    The girl had pleaded and asked after her lost friend. Her cries had continued even as she began to set parts of Laure ablaze.


    ¡°Such a disappointment,¡± the corpse taunted.


    She shrieked, then seized it in her hands. Notes that had been compiled on his opponent mentioned that she was destabilized by banter. It was a weakness to exploit while he strung her along. Fire began to spread. The other corpse reloaded its crossbow and tried to pin her down. She teleported once again.


    ¡°Not true: you, who made me into the monster that I am. Not so: creature of darkness. Your cage shall clip my wings no longer. I refuse the shackles you bring.¡±


    The corpse she grasped followed with her as she travelled. It pulled up a knife from its hip and tried to bury it in her gut. The knife melted to slag before it struck. An explosion of sparks marked her departure, and another marked her arrival somewhere else. Another fan of flames extended upwards. She teleported beside Black¡¯s other corpse.


    ¡°It''s a shame that this fire has burned out,¡± the corpse she appeared beside replied.


    ¡°Burn,¡± she shrieked.


    His control over the corpses vanished as the girl set them ablaze. The unnatural sticky green fire from her aspect consumed it in moments. It was not the first time she had used this Aspect. Black did not know how often she could wield it. The girl failed to realize that the more she used it, the less weight that it had.


    The Eyes did not have much time to compile information on her after her first appearance. She was an orphan by the name of Lydia who had an obsessive relationship with one of the other girls staying at the orphanage. A few days after the other girl had disappeared, Lydia¡¯s rampage had begun.


    Black pulled back further, careful not to draw any attention to himself as he made his way to the Lake. They had left the populated parts of the city some time ago and now moved about in parts of it that had been abandoned during the rebellion a year past. He sent out a tendril of shadow, detonating a brightstick in one of the alleys near the girl. She teleported towards it once again.


    That Aspect was by far the most dangerous one she possessed. An Aspect like it always came with a downside, and this one appeared to cause her mental faculties to deteriorate fast. The girl had come into it before their clash had even begun. Black had not yet had time to unearth her Name. Were she blessed by the Heavens, Black would assume that they were stacking the fight before the fight ever happened.


    Evidence pointed towards the opposite. She belonged to Below. Her unstable nature and violent predisposition towards the Empire made any ending except her death unacceptable.


    A third corpse on the rooftop watched as she appeared beside his distraction, then attempted to nail her through the heart. The girl pivoted at the last moment, causing the projectile to miss. She disappeared again only a moment later.


    Amadeus was faintly amused at the notion of anyone trying to kill him with fire and brimstone, when he was known to be friends with the Warlock. The amusement was tinged with irritation. Another volley of fiery projectiles peppered the wall beside one of the bodies he was animating as it ducked behind an old mill house, leaving a trail of scorch marks in their wake. The initial confrontation with the legions had come as a surprise out of nowhere and had given him the impression they were facing a sorcerer of some kind. The fights that had followed had given lie to that. She might have been a newly fledged wizard, but her sorceries were limited to flames alone. An arsonist and nothing more. The green-eyed man had tactics for those.


    He pulled the animated corpse back further, sending out another tendril of shadow around the corner and baiting another strike near an old well. There was an explosion of flames as his foe scoured Black¡¯s distraction. Amadeus waited. He predicted that there would be another detonation. Lydia failed to surprise him. She appeared beside the well only a few heartbeats later.


    A twelve-year-old girl with badly cut brown hair, shredded clothing, and bruises trailing all over her. She was wreathed in flames from head to foot.


    Black sent out another tendril of shadow. She followed, drawing her closer to the Silver Lake.


    The corpse had finished repositioning and crouched atop a rickety wooden pier. It fired its crossbow. She vanished once more before the bolt struck. She reappeared beside it. Predictable. Her poor strategy was in the vein of an older breed of villains, and even then was a disservice to Below. She would have perished during her first engagement if it weren¡¯t for the Aspect she used to reposition.


    ¡°Burn.¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± the corpse replied.


    The corpse detonated. Black had only prepared a few corpses with explosives for this fight. If the tactic was used too often, then she would come to expect it. She staggered, then fell into the lake below as the pier collapsed. He took a moment to aim at the figure flailing in the boiling water, then released the first bolt of his own. It took her between the eyes. Two more bolts, and the flailing came to a stop.


    The situation was troubling despite the ease with which she had been dispatched. She had been the fifth anomalous Named to have arisen within the past three weeks alone. Both Sabah and Wekesa were busy extinguishing fires in other parts of the Empire. Amadeus sourly acknowledged that more conflict was soon to come.


    Discord was spreading throughout the heart of the Empire at a rate far exceeding the threshold allowed by any of his contingencies. The grain of sand in the cogs of the machine had grown into a boulder.


    Amadeus knew who was to blame.


    <hr>


    Merchant Lord Mauricius sat on the balcony in Sub Rosa and looked out over the Irenian Plaza as he mused over the letter on the table beside him. This was the third such missive he had received. The first had related to some of his holdings on the southern coast of the City of Bought and Sold. A disgruntled savage had seen fit to darken Mauritius¡¯s door with his presence, claiming ownership of one of his ships.


    The man was quickly disabused of that notion and convinced to leave before Mauricius chose to seek redress for his impertinence. Ever since he had sold his first wife¡¯s lover and the entire man¡¯s family into slavery in Stygia, his rivals had spoken in hushed whispers when he stalked the halls of the Forty-Stole Court. It remained the only black mark on his name, but it was enough to warn his rivals that his lines were not to be crossed.


    The second piece of correspondence suggested that someone had managed to convince Merchant Lord Fabianus they could sell him the Guild Exchange. To both Mauritius¡¯s surprise and dismay, the man had paid the full price the trickster had listed. It was less than a day later that the fool had discovered it was a scam. When searched for, the trickster could not be found. It interfered with many of Mauricius¡¯s existing schemes.


    Mauricius gestured towards the waiting attendant hidden behind the sculpted marble arch, signalling his desire for chilled wine. The day was sweltering, despite the turn of the season.


    Mauricius had intended to treat campaigning for the office of Merchant Prince as an opportunity to line his pockets. He would have run in opposition to Merchant Lord Fabianus, buying the votes of the streets and the lesser courts. Once the threat he posed to the other candidates was established, he would then accept bribes from Fabianus in excess of the amount he had spent.


    Fabianus¡¯s finances had collapsed in the wake of his poor decision-making, leaving the Forty-Stole Court in a state of disarray. It was of no consequence, Mauricius had extended the same offer to the next mostly likely candidate. It was not as if he was short of opportunities, all he sought to do was swell his own hoard. Now it had come to his attention that his secondary candidate had fallen for the same scam as Fabianus.


    A clever con artist had been travelling the streets of Mercantis, auctioning off properties they did not own to people with fewer wits than coins.


    The attendant arrived with haste, placing a chilled Baalite red on the table beside him. Mauricius did not deign to drink it just yet. Instead, he pondered the other troubles to hound the streets of Mercantis.


    Dread Empress Malicia¡¯s schemes had been a delight to watch. She funnelled coin through the Pravus bank, and the Principate tore itself apart. Taking advantage of the chaos she sowed did much to fatten his own purse as well. Mercenaries in the Free Cities required arms to wage war in Procer. Arms that Mauricius sold. Seeing a similar scheme unleashed on the streets of his own city had at first been equally amusing, but quickly given rise to concern.


    Merchant Lord Mauricius did not know who it truly was that sought to play games within the confines of Mercantis. The newly arisen Ravel Bank had already sown chaos among the Lesser Courts, but who stood behind them remained a mystery. Their rates undercut any existing opposition to the point where it could not be anything except a ploy to undermine the City of Bought and Sold.


    Many knew this and chose to partake regardless. They argued that of the few who would have sufficient wealth to see the scheme through to its end, none would make the attempt. Mauricius was less certain. He was not one to turn away from gold, however, and so he would treat the chaos this Ravel Bank created as an opportunity to fatten his own purse.


    And should a guiding hand prove to be necessary, there was nothing preventing Merchant Lord Mauricius from stepping into the role of Merchant Prince that he so judiciously avoided.


    Discord presented an opportunity for profits, provided it stayed out of his own household.

 Concord 5.03

    ¡°Like history, stories repeat themselves. Reject the lie of safety offered by narrative. For only by casting off its shackles can power truly be seized.¡±


    ¡ª Translation of the Kabbalis Book of Darkness, widely attributed to the young Dead King


    <hr>


    ¡°Surprised you¡¯ve not stopped glowing,¡± Songbird stated.


    Again? Fuck it, I¡¯m sticking with this.


    The sound of her horse¡¯s hooves to my left were muffled by a thick bed of dirty snow. Efforts had been made to remove it from the main road, but they were of limited success.


    ¡°It¡¯s a strategic action,¡± I lied. ¡°If I glow all the time, then people can¡¯t tell when I¡¯m considering something.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re lying I think it''s just that you don¡¯t want to be called the Flickering Priestess like I was calling you earlier.¡± Yvette added.


    ¡°Shining Priestess does sound better,¡± Songbird agreed.


    ¡°Pests, both of you.¡±


    Songbird and Yvette both laughed. Songbird was rubbing off on Yvette. It wasn¡¯t something that I approved of.


    ¡°This is a course of action that I most heartily approve of.¡±


    Of course.


    I turned to my right, brushed some snow out of my face, and raised an eyebrow at Roland on his dappled horse. It was awkward when riding side-saddle, but by now I had almost acclimatised to it.


    ¡°You¡¯re just saying that to flatter me.¡± I tried to keep my voice even, but it was hard not to allow my amusement to bleed through.


    ¡°Flattery a fair maiden such as yourself most surely deserves.¡± He grinned at me.


    Frosted wooden houses stood hunched behind him. Many of them were hidden behind the traffic beside us. People stopped and stared or pointed at me as Pandora plodded along. By now I was used to it.


    He¡¯s not giving up on this any time soon, is he?


    ¡°You¡¯re going to need to try harder than that.¡±


    If anything, he seemed more reassured.


    ¡°Y¡¯know m¡¯starting to think I didn¡¯t make a mistake after all.¡± I turned back to the bedraggled, grinning redhead and glared at her.


    ¡°You¡¯re so much trouble, Song.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not trouble at all. My soul is pure, oh refulgent one.¡±


    ¡°As pure as the snow on the ground.¡±


    Songbird gasped, affecting a look of mock offence at my words.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you can give me good dreams too?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know. They still call you the Sovereign of Ardent Dreams. I could do with some of those. Three or four naked-¡±


    ¡°Not happening,¡± I cut her off. ¡°I¡¯m not indulging your fantasies.¡±


    ¡°Awwww. S¡¯pose you can¡¯t be fun.¡±


    It was more that I couldn¡¯t do it, although not from a lack of trying. Creating illusions was easy. Seeding pleasant dreams in advance was something I thought I could do, but hadn¡¯t succeeded at.


    The rugged caravan in front of us came to a halt. I tried peeking around and finding out what was occurring up ahead. I could not see past the olive painted roof.


    ¡°See if you can find out what¡¯s happening, Roland. I¡¯d like to be within the city walls before dusk.¡±


    ¡°I count on there being another brawl,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, this wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve been a problem if you¡¯d agreed to stable them earlier.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a problem it just means we need to wait a little and not walk much further in snow besides do you really trust the stables further back in the slums at the city outskirts they looked like they were considering selling off our horses here isn¡¯t much better either.¡± Yvette interjected from behind.


    ¡°It would take someone truly bereft of their wits to attempt to sell our mounts,¡± Roland criticized.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll admit I made a mistake,¡± I admitted.


    Roland dismounted and handed the reins of his mount to me, lightly brushing his fingers against mine.


    ¡°So,¡± I turned my attention back to Songbird. ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me why you¡¯re fine with this.¡±


    ¡°Be more specific,¡± she tapped her leg in thought.


    ¡°Me trying to empower the church.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve spoken to Cordelia. I know that the Lycaonese view the amount of power the House of Light wields down south in a dim light. Can¡¯t see why you would be fine with me increasing that.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not sure if you understand yourself that well.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Think. Say y¡¯see a crowd beating someone. What¡¯re you gonna do?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know why that¡¯s important.¡± I ran my hand through Pandora¡¯s mane in my impatience. It was silky soft to the touch.


    ¡°Answer the question,¡± Songbird mock glared at me.


    ¡°Break up the fight. Ask what¡¯s going on. See if I can resolve it without violence.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯my point.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not following.¡±


    ¡°Normal people either sit and watch or don¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that you¡¯re not worried about me trying to empower the House of Light because I¡­ care?¡±


    Surely that can¡¯t be the reason.


    ¡°S¡¯right. You¡¯ll arrive, find out how useless they all are, then start to tear into them.¡±


    Her ironclad belief in that was discouraging.


    ¡°What makes you so sure?¡±


    ¡°Ever been to the large cathedrals?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see them soon. M¡¯sure that they care more about money and power than you¡¯d approve of.¡±


    ¡°So you think I¡¯d take power away from the church instead?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a saint, Taylor. Not one of the ones that swings swords, either.¡±


    ¡°Well. This saint wants power over parts of the church.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯ll all be better for it. Y¡¯won¡¯t get what you want. Not any time soon at least. But you¡¯ll fix everything else.¡±


    A flamboyant array of silks approaching marked Roland¡¯s return.


    ¡°Found out what the problem is?¡± I passed the reins back to him.


    ¡°Two men are settling grievances up ahead in a duel.¡± He took the reins, but did not mount up.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking. The magistrates will be all over this. I¡¯m surprised the guard has not stepped in.¡±


    ¡°It is a spar between two ninth sun duellists.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t intervene?¡±


    Roland was usually one to involve himself in these kinds of conflicts.


    ¡°I am not so much a fool as to position myself between the blades of two swordsmen of such renown.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that.¡±


    A smile tugged at his lips. He didn¡¯t reply.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m about to be a fool then.¡± I sighed in irritation, then snapped my mouth shut.


    The air was thick with a cloying smog.


    Snow crunched as my boots touched the ground. I passed Roland my reins.


    ¡°Take care of her.¡±


    The gremlin in question was busy harassing a poor pigeon that had landed on the nose of her horse. She looked up when I mentioned her name.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine you don¡¯t need to look after me just do whatever you need to do I promise.¡±


    Roland dipped his head in acknowledgement.


    I started to weave my way between the cramped traffic ahead. I felt eyes linger on me as I progressed past the crowd. It took another hail for me to break through to the front of the congestion.


    It was much as Roland had said.


    Two youths were exchanging blows with duelling swords. Their movements were fluid. The blonde on the left stepped forward, his footing sure on the stained mud. He parried the blow to his right. Two steps back. His black haired opponent tensed as if he was about to perform another jab. It was a feint.


    Despite my expectations, there were no magistrates or city guards ready to intervene in the fight. A wide open ring had been cleared out for them.


    I don¡¯t have time for this.


    ¡°Enough.¡± I declared, stepping into their ring. The Light flowed through me. It always did. However, the feeling was different when I actively called upon it. I knew that it scalded near everyone else, even when used to heal. That was not true for me. It felt like the hope of a better future when it coursed through my veins.


    Green eyes on the left flicked to me for not even a heartbeat. His opponent tried to capitalize. A blade blurred forward, only to strike against a golden barrier. It shattered on impact. They continued as if the interruption had not even taken place.


    Really?


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Two more attempts at barriers. They moved around my obstructions as if they weren¡¯t even there. The light around both of them bent. They could only see me now. Me, and nobody else. Both fighters closed their eyes and kept fighting. Another strike. Parried this time. Emotional manipulation came even easier to me than before. Unfortunately, it did nothing to either duellist.


    I didn¡¯t want to hurt them. Was there another way to force this to end? Yes.


    I deliberately walked into the middle of the arena and intercepted the blade with my hand. I focused the moment before I was struck, turning that part of myself into what I truly was.


    ¡°I said enough.¡±


    The blade passed through my hand. There was a blaze of Light where the cut occurred, but not much else. My hand appeared soon after. The other swordsman¡¯s blade slammed into my robes but failed to penetrate.


    The fight ground to a halt.


    ¡°Chosen. We-we¡¯re sorry.¡± The words were stammered out in fear. ¡°Were you struck? Do you have wounds that need tending to? Oh, no. Oh, no.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Do you seek redress? My family may be able to-¡±


    ¡°No. You¡¯re lucky. I¡¯m compassionate, not just.¡±


    The man sounded relieved.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need for you to intervene. No disrespect was intended. If there is a slight, then-¡±


    I looked up into the amber eyes of the pale faced man who had addressed me. Despite towering over me, he looked small.


    ¡°That is not for you to decide.¡± I interjected. ¡°Why are you two fighting?¡±


    ¡°We s-strive to test ourselves in the hopes of one day moving beyond the tenth sun.¡±


    ¡°And you couldn¡¯t fight this out somewhere else?¡± My eyebrows must have risen into my hair.


    ¡°The roads were clear when our bout began,¡± the one on the right defended.


    I turned my gaze towards him. He flinched.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t now.¡±


    Both of them glanced around, taking in the sizeable delay along the road. They had the decency to look chastised once they saw the waiting traffic.


    ¡°We apologize for the inconvenience we caused.¡± I looked from one to the other.


    ¡°Be more considerate in future.¡±


    They both ran as if they were hounded by devils the moment I finished speaking.


    Sighing, I began to return to the others.


    ¡°Had fun?¡± Songbird queried.


    ¡°Waste of time,¡± I complained, mounting up.


    We were on our way once more. Deeper towards the city. The Yearning Walls beckoned in the distance. Buildings grew from wooden shacks to stone houses. Chimneys bellowed out a thick smoke. Chaotic construction work took place among the slums.


    The state of the city became cleaner and more organized the closer we drew to the walls. Gardens started to appear between buildings, and the further we progressed, the larger the gardens grew. The side of the road ¡ª once bereft of anything but travelling vagrants ¡ª was now lined with stalls.


    We passed through the Griffon Gate. The road beyond was swept clean. It didn¡¯t take long to hand off our horses to a poor attendant. The girl took one look at me, then stammered out a nervous assurance that our horses would be well cared for.


    The state of the city within the walls was another step up entirely.


    Multi-storey stone houses with stained-glass windows. It wasn¡¯t anything I hadn¡¯t seen before, but it was notable in how commonplace it was compared to anywhere else I¡¯d visited in Calernia barring the Titan¡¯s city in the Chain of Hunger. We continued onwards past vast open-air markets.


    The sun had passed its zenith and started to sink by the time we approached the green bannered exterior of the destination Songbird had picked out for us. The establishment ran more to her tastes than my own, but I wasn¡¯t about to make a fuss about it. It did amuse me that a few patrons seemed more uncomfortable with my presence than I was for being there.


    ¡°See if you can find out if Cordelia is still in the city, Song.¡± I turned to Roland. ¡°You said you could help find other heroes?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can find with the rise of dawn. For now, I intend to rest.¡±


    Right. We¡¯ve only just arrived.


    ¡°I think we should all do that¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, m¡¯surprised that you agreed to stay here.¡± Songbird snorted. She leaned against the out wall of the establishment. We were saved from having snow in our hair by a large cloth shade shrouding the front of the building.


    ¡°Where did you expect me to stay?¡±


    ¡°In one of the cloisters, with the other sisters.¡±


    ¡°No, thanks.¡±


    ¡°If you get your way, then you¡¯ll have to.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think so,¡± I sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll find some way to live where I want to.¡±


    ¡°Corruption, already?¡± Songbird mimed being struck by an arrow. ¡°And to think, you haven¡¯t even met any of the Holies yet.¡±


    ¡°Who would you suggest talking to?¡±


    ¡°Nobody important. Yet.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not helpful.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯don¡¯t want to waste their time.¡±


    I looked at her.


    ¡°Just tell me who you think I need to talk to and where I need to go.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna need to head towards the Upper Yearning to find the Holies. Then just pick any Cathedral and chances are you¡¯ll run into one,¡± she answered flippantly.


    ¡­ She doesn¡¯t actually know, does she?


    It struck me that I probably knew more about the church than she did. I¡¯d just assumed I¡¯d be relying on her for parts of this. I¡¯d assumed that I¡¯d be relying on her like I had in Aisne, but I probably didn¡¯t need to.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about the church¡¯s organization, do you?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not like I needed to deal with them,¡± she groused. ¡°I dealt with nobles, not priests. You prob¡¯ly know more about them than me. I¡¯m not a devout priestess. You are! You prob¡¯ly memorized the Book of All Things.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Actually she did remember ma you told me you can remember your life like reading text off a book now and I know you read the Book of All Things that means you know it right?¡±


    ¡°Okay, so maybe by technicality. I never quote it.¡±


    ¡°Bet you think about it when talking to other priests.¡±


    ¡°Is today gang up on Taylor day?¡± I complained.


    ¡°Always is.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re not going to give advice, then don¡¯t complain about whom I decide to talk to.¡±


    All four of us shuffled indoors. I sent for a messenger and penned a letter to one Sister Dominique at the Selandine Basilica in an effort to arrange a meeting the following day. She was someone who had actually responded to some of my communications in the past, and was a person of influence within the church. Songbird also penned letters of her own.


    It was at dawn the next day that both of us received our replies. Cordelia was no longer in Salia. That complicated matters, but not to the point of endangering my plans. Roland decided to go on his own adventure and take Yvette along with him. Songbird would correspond with old acquaintances. That just left me.


    I¡¯d been cordially invited to speak with Sister Dominique after the morning service at a nearby chapel. There was an open invitation to attend the service as well, but I doubted I¡¯d be able to arrive in time. There were also instructions on how to find the Basilica in question.


    I was about to depart when Songbird seized me by the arm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t promise her anything,¡± she hissed. ¡°The powers that be in the church are just as canny as even the sharpest prince.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t planning to.¡±


    The Holies were the most respected figures within the Proceran House of Light. They weren''t officially in charge, but their words did tend to become policy. I was willing to extend them a fair amount of trust, despite Songbird''s protests. It didn''t mean I wouldn''t temper it with a healthy dose of caution, but I had yet to meet a priest that I didn''t like.


    ¡°M¡¯serious, Taylor. Be vague. Let this Sister Dominique fill in the gaps. You¡¯re a Chosen priestess. She¡¯ll fall over her own feet to help you. Doesn¡¯t mean she won¡¯t have her own schemes. Best to move only after you know where the knives lie.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡±


    I left the establishment and started to follow Dominique¡¯s directions. The first part wasn¡¯t that hard. The Upper Yearning was the part of the city further uphill. It was also the nicer part of the city, although that didn¡¯t mean much. It was the difference between upper class citizens and princes in terms of wealth. Everyone in these parts of the city lived well.


    I felt out of place as I entered the Upper Yearning. Dirty. Like I was a trespasser in the homes of the wealthy. While Cordelia¡¯s fortress had been more extravagant than most places I had been, it had nothing on the palaces in Salia. Large mansions with exquisitely cared for gardens trailed as far as the eye could see. Hedges dusted in snow. Frost lined buildings that looked almost as if they had been designed for the express purpose of being painted in winter white.


    At least the advice had been easy to follow.


    I shaded my eyes against the harsh glare of the snow as I caught sight of my destination in the distance and made my way towards it. There weren¡¯t many people out on these streets. The rich had no need to be out and about in the cold.


    Boots clicked on cobbled road as I passed down an avenue of well tended naked oaks and walked beneath the comforting shadow of the bell tower. I trailed my fingers along the masonry, lost in thought, as I approached the basilica before me. A tower loomed on either side of the monument, and decorative arches were carved into the masonry.


    The pale flicker of candlelight through the stained-glass windows featuring famous religious figures beckoned to me up ahead. People were leaving the building in crowds. I drew closer, slowed. Two wide-eyed figures ahead to either side of the entrance of the Basilica bowed to me as I passed. I thanked them awkwardly. No words were said in return, but none were to be expected. They were among those who had sworn a vow of silence.


    The place was busy. The faithful gathered together in small groups and whispered to each other. Some entering, some leaving. Everyone present was dressed rich. This was not a place attended by the poor.


    Many of their dreams were enraging. That observation wasn¡¯t limited to the attending nobility.


    ¡­ Songbird had been more right than I liked.


    A few of them turned and looked at me as birds of prey do when circling up high in the air. The rest either put up an air of indifference, or were too indulged in their existing conversations to notice me. I suspected that most fell into the latter category. While my glow was distinct, it was also faint and hard to notice.


    ¡°May you be always graced by the Light, Chosen. ¡°Someone greeted me from behind.


    I turned.


    A broad shouldered boy was bowing to me obsequiously. It was something I doubted I¡¯d ever become used to.


    ¡°Stand up. I¡¯m here to speak to Sister Dominique. I have a meeting scheduled with her.¡±


    He straightened. His feet started to eat the ground. I followed behind him. I was led by my guide into the back halls. They were no less immaculate than the part of the building available to the public. My guide ushered me into a parlour guarded by a trio of armed priests. My eyes raised. I knew that they existed, but hadn¡¯t encountered them before.


    My guide left me seated in the most comfortable recliner I¡¯d ever sat in at a mahogany table, then returned shortly afterwards with a roasted quail and plums. I had been assured the accompanying wine would be to my tastes, but I declined it regardless. I dug into the meal.


    Perhaps I should have declined the meal as well?


    I moved the plums to one side with my silverware. I was certain that they had been drenched in alcohol. It was disappointing. Even if they weren¡¯t ethanol in a plum, they were still too sweet for me. At least the quail was succulent. I¡¯d never had one before.


    My mind wandered as I ate. I took the opportunity to examine the room.


    There was a painting on the wall opposite the door. It showed a woman dressed in white, sword raised to the heavens. A winged angel floated above her.


    ¡°It was one of our darker hours,¡± a calm, feminine voice spoke.


    ¡°Seventh Crusade?¡± I turned towards the door.


    ¡°You have the right of it, sister,¡± my interlocutor gave me a wrinkled smile. Silver haired, she stood straight backed and lithe at the doorway. She looked spry, despite the evidence of her old age.


    Punish the wicked. Punish the unworthy. Strengthen the church. Uphold the faith. Woe to any who do not share our beliefs.


    My heart sank.


    It was her dream. Like many of the priests I had seen within the Basilica, her dream was incompatible with my own. Not because she was not faithful ¡ª all of them were ¡ª but because somewhere along the line they had lost sight of the people they were trying to care for.


    Why did Songbird have to be right?


    ¡°Want any?¡±


    I gestured towards my plate.


    ¡°I already ate,¡± she answered. ¡°The fell tidings you warned of proved to be timely.¡±


    The chair scraped as she sat down opposite me.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°A painter who renders scenes that can make stones weep.¡±


    My brow furrowed.


    ¡°They¡¯re not painting people¡¯s souls into paintings, are they?¡±


    ¡°A fair concern after that atrocity of an artist you ended years past,¡± she nodded my way in approval, ¡°but no. This painter is sworn to above. The Old Master earned his choosing by painting the rooftop of a chapel in Aisne.¡±


    Michelangelo?


    ¡°Is that it?¡±


    If that was the extent of it, then I would be relieved.


    ¡°Three Names not recognized as either heroes or villains of old have appeared.¡±


    ¡°Only three?¡±


    ¡°We suspect many more. Chaos haunts the Principate. Those are confirmed.¡± she paused, then gestured towards the wine bottle I had set aside. ¡°Do you mind?¡±


    ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    Sister Dominique poured herself a glass of wine.


    ¡°The second was one of our lay brothers in Bayeux. He attempted to publish several blasphemous texts. The clergy attempted to apprehend him, but he has eluded capture so far.¡±


    Which story would this match? Galileo? No, I don¡¯t think it matches. Leave it for later, Taylor.


    ¡°And the third?¡±


    ¡°A member of the upper nobility in Salia ran from her house after her brother claimed his own life. She has gone on to commit a string of lesser crimes, always tearing into the heart of people when she speaks.¡±


    My heart sank.


    It could have been a lot of stories, but in my heart I already knew which story it was.


    The story of Tattletale had come back to haunt me once again.

 Concord 5.04

    ¡°I find that there is no difference between a diabolist and a priest once you stake them through the heart and peel away the skin.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Nihilis I, the Tanner


    <hr>


    ¡°I had not thought this news would distress you.¡±


    The next bite of my quail had become lost in the purgatory between the plate and my mouth the moment Sister Dominique had mentioned the third confirmed Name.


    They¡¯re not Lisa.


    ¡°I knew the last person who held that Role.¡± It was difficult to keep my voice measured as I replied.


    ¡°Were they among the Chosen or the Damned? Some Chosen are known to have a¡­ loose relationship towards ownership.¡±


    Think about this later.


    ¡°How has the House responded to the chaos?¡±


    ¡°The seventy-first conclave in Salia has been called to determine the shape of our response.¡± My eyebrows rose in surprise.


    ¡°That¡¯s the first I¡¯m hearing of it. I thought it was customary for these things to be announced to the public.¡± She kept her green-grey eyes locked on her wineglass as I spoke, and affected as if her attention was elsewhere. I knew that to be a lie. Her attention was honed to a fine edge.


    ¡°The tidings you brought cast a dark shadow over the future. It would be remiss for us to act without proper consideration being given by all parties.¡± Sister Dominique swirled the last of the wine in the glass around in her wrinkled hand, then downed it in a single gulp.


    ¡°Lesser or greater conclave?¡±


    ¡°It is a lesser conclave. Are you sure I cannot offer you a glass of wine? It is an Arlesite red.¡± she asked as she reached around the unlit candle on the desk towards the bottle.


    ¡°No, thanks.¡±


    I noted her offer as I dismissed it. Her offering to pour implied that she considered herself lower in the hierarchy than I was. At least¡­ that was what Roland had taught me years ago. I didn¡¯t need to pay attention to these details all that often.


    ¡°Your words were passed on to our brothers and sisters on foreign shores, along with invitations to attend. Only polite refusals were returned.¡±


    It didn¡¯t surprise me. The last time the entire priesthood of the west had been moved to act had been during the time of Triumphant.


    ¡°What has the conclave decided?¡±


    ¡°It has yet to occur. We are waiting on the last few influential among the Proceran clergy.¡±


    ¡°Has nothing been done then?¡± I gripped my fork tighter.


    ¡°These are dark times. The rise of new heroes and villains both is not the only ghost to haunt these lands. War still ravages the Principate, and ghosts haunt Constance¡¯s Scar.¡±


    ¡°There are no ghosts there,¡± I denied. ¡°I¡¯ve been to the scar. Creation is weakened there. It¡¯s the Fae pretending to be ghosts, not ghosts.¡±


    ¡°That is an even greater cause for concern.¡±


    ¡°And yet you don¡¯t sound worried.¡±


    ¡°Time wears away at all things. We do our best to endure its ravages, but only the Gods may truly reverse the flow of the sand.¡±


    ¡°The rise of new Names will only become worse.¡± I finished my meal, made use of the napkin, set my cutlery down and moved the plate to the side.


    ¡°Are you an Augur then, blessed with prophetic visions?¡± Her eyes moved off of her wine glass to my face.


    Avoid that question, Taylor.


    ¡°If we want to avoid anarchy, then action needs to be taken.¡±


    ¡°Would I be remiss in assuming that you have a specific response in mind?¡±


    How much should I say? Songbird had advised being vague. I was leaning towards following that advice, despite my initial belief that the priests would be trustworthy. It disappointed me, but it was only a minor setback. If I had to rip out corruption in the church at its roots to obtain the outcome I wanted, then¡­ the church was in for a thorough pruning.


    ¡°We need to find every hero we can and recruit them to our cause. Organize. Act as a stabilizing force in the times ahead.¡±


    ¡°I believe it would be best for you to wait before you share the lay of your thoughts.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± my eyes narrowed.


    ¡°A minor gathering was arranged at the Starlit Cloister between those of us present in Salia once I had already received and responded to your missive. I would have brought up the matter earlier, but delayed in light of your meal. I trust that you do not mind?¡±


    The words sounded apologetic, but I knew otherwise.


    ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°I suggest we venture forth soon if you intend for us to arrive before the meeting begins.¡±


    It was as I had expected. I was being ambushed. She had waited until the last possible moment before springing this on me. I was unamused. If the Holies thought to play games with me when the Principate was in a state of turmoil, then they were biting off more than they could chew.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    She stood up, then I trailed behind her white and gold figure as she led the way. We left the Selandine Basilica. The two of us stepped into a waiting carriage outside the Basilica that had been painted the same shades as sister Dominique¡¯s robes.


    ¡°Salia is the jewel of Calernia, don¡¯t you agree?¡± Sister Dominique asked.


    ¡°It is,¡± I answered absently.


    I allowed the clip-clopping of the horse¡¯s hooves and merchants on the streets hawking their wares to drown out my interlocutor. It didn¡¯t take long for conversation to peter out. The two of us sat in silence while I pondered the trap that I was about to face. And it was a trap. That much I was certain of.


    How was I planning to approach this? The Holies wanted something from me. They also believed me to be someone who could be manipulated to their ends. Why? What gave them that impression? I wasn¡¯t the Saint of Swords, but I also wasn¡¯t toothless. Their decision baffled me.


    I considered what kind of impression that I may have given them.


    I would bet they knew every piece of correspondence that had passed through all of the many churches I had visited. Those fell into two categories. Political inquiries and warnings about the future. The former would include vague statements of my broader goals, without any of the finer details. Those would paint me as an idealist. A dreamer.


    Someone whose vision would be viewed as unachievable.


    That fit with the angelic Choir that had chosen me. Every hero who represented the Choir of Compassion was a dreamer. We all wanted the world to be perfect. We all wanted everyone to care for each other. Most of us swore off violence, but I hadn¡¯t. That made me unusual, but¡­ my family had hinted that I was not the only one of their heroes who had drawn blades, just the most recent one. Once long ago Compassion had been Reverence, and Reverence did not hesitate to fight.


    I wondered what that meant for the future of the Choir if they were permitting acts of violence once more.


    The wheels of the carriage rattled against the road as we ascended the shallow slope of the Upper Yearning. At least people did not stop and point at me. My glow was difficult to see through the glass of the carriage window.


    What else did they know?


    Well, they knew that I had an existing relationship with Cordelia Hasenbach. I doubted they knew the specifics, but they likely knew I was cordial with her. They would know about the various conflicts I had been involved in, and that I had returned from a journey into the Chain of Hunger.


    Aisne.


    That would be it.


    They knew I was an idealist and that I had failed at politicking in Aisne. They would also know that I had a negative disposition towards most of the Proceran nobility. The fact that I had political ambitions, but was unskilled at politics, would give them the impression that I was someone who could be used.


    How could I take advantage of this?


    I couldn¡¯t pretend to be completely naive. That princess had already escaped captivity. That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t pretend to have less of an idea of what I wanted than I truly did. Was there a benefit in doing so? Possibly. I could also challenge their expectations. Present them with what I wanted right out the gate and put them on the back foot.


    It all depended on what I saw when I arrived.


    The carriage drew to a stop.


    The two of us climbed out, then started to walk down the slate tile pathway lined by snow dusted hedges, leading up to the stairs marking the entrance to the cloister. The Starlit Cloister was secluded from the rest of the city. Immaculately cared for gardens surrounded it. The grass ¡ª green despite the turn of the season ¡ª was so even that I doubted even a single blade stuck up above the rest. There was irony in that, considering the men and women I was about to meet. The basalt building itself wasn¡¯t as tall as many of the other Basilicas and Cathedrals I had passed, but no less impressive.


    ¡°It is a pity that our schedule is so tight. There is much beauty to be found in the Starlit Cloister. Pieces of art that one such as yourself would most assuredly appreciate.¡± Sister Dominique commented from my left.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°There are paintings, sculptures, and tapestries dating back towards the First Crusade. Works crafted by the blessed that only the faithful ever lay their eyes on. No others are so fortunate. You should take the opportunity to appreciate them while you are in residence.¡±


    What, does she expect me to live here?


    Two of the silent monks seized the iron rings set into the thick double doors and opened them for us before we had even begun to ascend the stairs.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Not even the First Prince may lay their eyes on all the wonders of the Starlit Cloister,¡± Sister Dominique stated in satisfaction.


    ¡°What if they¡¯re visiting?¡±


    We entered the building. Sister Dominique continued to lead the way. Several of the nuns bowed to the both of us as we delved deeper into what I was starting to see as the heart of the Proceran faith.


    ¡°Should the First Prince wish to entreat with the Holies, they would be required to submit to hour-long ablutions in a private garden set aside for that purpose. Their visit would be guided such that at no time they would step into parts of the cloister which are held to be sacrosanct.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    I supported the idea of princes being made to show humility before my Gods. I¡¯d seen enough of the nobility to believe that an indirect encounter with an Angel might do them some good. The adjustment in their perspective would make the world a better place once they realized how fickle their power was. That wasn¡¯t the impression I was receiving here. It sounded more like the princes were being made to show humility before the priests.


    That didn¡¯t sit well with me.


    More because of what it did to the egos of the priests, then what it meant for the princes.


    I added it to the list of changes I wanted as we continued down the chequered corridor lined with basalt pillars that bulged at the waist. We arrived at a thick oaken gate. Loud sounds of jubilation could be heard from the other side of the door. Sister Dominique reached forward, seized the brass ring in front and opened the door.


    I now understand why the Merry Monk force-fed one of the Holies until they died of over-consumption.


    It took effort for me to hide my tells. For me to contain my outrage. It was the most furious I could remember being in an aeon. The word heretics burned at the edge of my tongue. Were it not for the support of my family, I might not have managed to suppress my anger.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Their dreams made me want to cut them all down.


    They were faithful. Technically. They dreamed that the church should rule the Principate. I moved my gaze from one to the next as fast as I could. Power. Power. Power. That was what they dreamed of. The Gods were the ultimate power in Creation. They saw themselves as the most important non-heroic mortal representatives of the Gods, and some of them wavered on the brink of seeing themselves above heroes as well. They dreamed of themselves ruling over all others, handing down edicts from Above.


    While I suspected that all of them had sworn off violence, I didn¡¯t believe that meant much. Not with how their dreams glorified the suffering of those they did not approve of. There was no compassion in their dreams. They were fanatics of the worst kind. Those who saw no value in anybody who did not share their beliefs. While I was willing to acknowledge that I was a zealot myself, I liked to think of myself as the good kind of religious extremist. My beliefs did not discriminate against helping those that did not share my faith.


    I¡¯d known from the start that being Good did not necessarily mean being good. That it would be my version of what Good was, competing against countless others. That did not make me any less disappointed by what I saw. I wouldn¡¯t have been offended had they all worshipped the Gods Below. At least then they wouldn¡¯t be pretending to be good according to the virtues espoused in a book that I did not agree with verbatim, but approved of enough to consider one who followed it virtuous. It was the fact that these men and women claimed to be the best of us ¡ª the bastions of light amidst the sea of darkness ¡ª that lit the furnace of my rage.


    They were all liars and hypocrites.


    The only way I could see them benefitting Good is if I squinted through a dirty lens. Perhaps they helped achieve a ¡°greater good,¡± in some way. It was unfortunate for them that I no longer believed in peddling lesser evils or greater goods.


    Not one of you will remain in power by the time I am done with the church.


    The scope of my plans would need adjusting.


    I came to a halt as I stepped through the door. I wasn¡¯t sure if the crimson hornets buzzing behind my eyes showed on my face.


    ¡°Is something the matter, Chosen?¡± Sister Dominique asked, affecting concern.


    She had been at the razor edge of what I was willing to tolerate. The rest of them were not.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a lot to take in,¡± I lied, keeping my breathing measured as I gestured towards the long table where the Holies were seated.


    Some men and women decked in white and gold looked up from their chairs as we entered. Ornate golden cloches sat atop a delicate white lace tablecloth that was weighted down by elegant glass droplets dangling off the edge. The dishes contained a wide array of edibles. More than I could recognize.


    Royal purple tapestries were draped across the right walls and paintings clung to the left. The opposite end of the room was open, with a fountain gurgling in the background. A golden candelabra hung over the table.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it heartening to see the faithful receiving the respect they are due?¡±


    ¡°Definitely,¡± I agreed.


    It was a pity that the two of us had differing opinions on what that respect should look like.


    ¡°Sister Dominique, Chosen, come join us in our feasting.¡± A corpulent man on the left-hand side of the table beside a boar with an apple in its mouth called out and gestured enthusiastically at us.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already eaten,¡± I replied, but took a seat on the teak chair beside the man nonetheless. It was one of the few that remained open.


    The table was stacked with everything I could imagine. From exotic out of season fruits to fine cuts of meat. The sights, the smells, everything about the table was a feast for the senses.


    Everything except the people seated at it.


    I wondered why Sister Dominique had fed me if she knew I would be arriving at a scene like this. Perhaps to alienate me? Make me the only person at the table not participating in the festivities? The Holies had already moved to put me on the back foot, which came as an unwelcome surprise. I¡¯d expected us to be allies, not enemies under the same banner.


    ¡°It is a pity that you are unable to partake,¡± a green-eyed woman commiserated. I had to squint around the glazed duck to see her properly.


    With her long nose and narrow face, she looked a little like a white peacock.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°Your warnings forestalled much trouble within the House,¡± the woman continued, placing her silver knife and fork down with care on her empty plate below.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°A missive was sent to the House of Light from a scriptorium in Bayeux inquiring into whether texts commissioned by one of our lay brothers to be replicated several times over were heretical or not. If it were not for your warnings, the matter might not have been investigated. He was almost apprehended while attempting to nail one of the few copies he succeeded in having transcribed onto a church door.¡±


    Martin Luther.


    ¡°What did his manuscripts say?¡±


    ¡°They were naught more than vile calumny. Slanderous claims that those of us at the upper echelons of the faith are perverting the intent of the House of Light.¡±


    ¡°Did he write about anything else?¡±


    ¡°The heretic preaches of a common church of man. He asserts that the Holies have no claim to authority over the House of Light, as the Gods Above did not ordain our positions when granting us leave to wield the Light and only confirmed our faith. A blasphemous idea, don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Wait what?


    ¡°There¡¯s plenty of blasphemy about this.¡± I allowed my anger at them to bleed through.


    ¡°You do intend to apprehend the villain soon.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±


    I¡¯ll apprehend him all right. The two of us can do far more working together than alone.


    It felt odd to be in a position where I wished that I knew more about religion on Earth Bet. I knew whose story this was, but little else. I didn¡¯t know more than the barest skeleton of his story. It was frustrating. I knew it was unrealistic to expect every new Name to be one that I recognized, but it would be so much simpler if his Name was one taken out of English literature.


    It wasn¡¯t.


    But even if I didn¡¯t know much about him, after meeting the Holies¡­ I was leaning towards him being a hero and not a villain.


    ¡°That is music to all of our ears,¡± she sent a dragon-like grin my way.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I asked.


    Other conversations had continued as we talked, but people¡¯s voices had dropped to murmurs. I could see them watching the both of us like vultures examining a corpse out of the corner of their eyes. This priestess was clearly important. They were allowing her to take the lead.


    ¡°I¡¯m Sister Adelie. It¡¯s a pleasure to count you among us, Chosen.¡±


    ¡°How do you plan to deal with this?¡±


    ¡°Would that we could act, only our hands are tied,¡± Sister Adelie sounded apologetic. I wasn¡¯t buying it.


    ¡°In what way?¡±


    ¡°In the past we could function unimpeded, but our influence has waned with the passage of years. The House of Light is denied a standing army, and all but the southernmost principalities bar us the right to recruit warrior monks to our cause. The Lycaonese do not even permit us to own the land where our churches reside.¡±


    ¡°Surely you¡¯ve done something?¡±


    ¡°Word is being delivered to every ear loyal to the Gods Above. It is being carried to all that can be reached, from the princes of Procer to the Citizens of Ashur. How they choose to interpret your words¡­¡± she shrugged, ¡°is in their hands. The authority to serve further has not been extended to us. We will offer our guidance, shelter behind our walls, and work to mend wounds, but to reach beyond that is to threaten another Liturgical War.¡±


    Somehow I suspected that it wasn¡¯t the idea of a war that bothered her, but more the fact that the House of Light would lose it.


    How much do I say?


    This was a delicate situation. I wanted to be rid of all of them, and I wanted to do it legally. I was certain that they had enough skeletons in their confessional booths that if I dug them out, I could see all of them removed. The problem was doing it without having the church¡¯s power curtailed in the process.


    What would Songbird do?


    I needed to play both sides here. I wanted oversight over a functional House of Light. It wasn¡¯t important for me to manage the parts of the faith that they were currently responsible for, but I wasn¡¯t willing to relinquish authority over what I wanted to introduce. That meant I¡¯d need to offer Cordelia something ¡ª probably the removal of the Holies ¡ª and offer these carrion eaters something else.


    They were lucky I wasn¡¯t Laurence. I¡¯d be taking a hatchet to the rot if I were, rather than finding a way for it to fade gently into the night.


    ¡°Then we will need to change that.¡±


    ¡°It is rumoured that you have the ear of the Lycaonese Prince. How amenable do you believe she would be to a proposal if you were to present it?¡±


    Careful.


    ¡°It depends,¡± I kept my voice as carefree as I could. ¡°I¡¯ll need scribes. Many of them.¡±


    ¡°For what purpose?¡± the man beside me asked.


    The hem of his robe brushed my hand as he grasped a chicken leg with a greasy hand and added it to his platter. I pulled my hands off the table and onto my lap. Sister Adelie glared his way for only a moment before her gaze softened and returned to me.


    ¡°Recording stories. It should help mitigate chaos if people have some idea of what to expect.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make some of our scribes available to you,¡± Sister Adelie replied.


    ¡°There¡¯s more. I want to create resources for heroes to draw upon. Tools, information, teachers, weapons, communications networks. The church has the ability to help there.¡±


    I¡¯d start with the less dangerous requests.


    ¡°What you ask for would serve as cause for deliberation in better years. They are an unwelcome burden in light of the oncoming storm.¡±


    ¡°I can contribute in other ways.¡±


    Sister Adelie paused and took a sip of her wine. Her eyes narrowed in thought.


    ¡°It sounds as if you have higher ambitions for the church.¡±


    ¡°I do. I¡¯m not happy with how much the House of Light has been restricted.¡±


    There. The bait is set.


    ¡°Then you would see our wings unclipped?¡± She blinked and almost smiled. The gold of one of the cloches reflected in her eyes.


    ¡°I would. I have proposals I¡¯d like you to look over. They aren¡¯t with me right now.¡±


    ¡°I suggest that we meet at another time to discuss the merits of your proposals further.¡±


    ¡°That sounds fine.¡±


    A low murmured chorus of approval echoed across the table.


    Conversation continued for a while, but shifted towards small talk. Others occasionally added their own thoughts. I made sure to avoid committing to anything until I¡¯d spoken to Songbird. I left the Starlit Cloister after setting a later date to speak with Sister Adelie, although there was an unspoken offer for me to remain in the cloister.


    There was much for me to think about.


    I considered it all while walking back to our temporary residence.


    First came thoughts of not-Lisa. They were more conflicted but less anger inducing than thoughts about the Holies. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to redeem Tattletale if I met her today. I wasn¡¯t certain if I¡¯d be able to redeem her at the start of her journey. Her story was a villain¡¯s story. I had no doubt about that. The smart decision would be for me to leave dealing with her to somebody else. I knew that I was emotionally compromised.


    I didn¡¯t want to leave this to somebody else.


    What should I do?


    I prayed. My family reassured me that I would be fine. I should resolve this myself. It would be a chance for me to lay one of my own demons to rest.


    Snow fell around me, but I remained warm. My light kept the cold at bay.


    I passed beneath a stand of poplars as my mind moved towards my next concern.


    I wasn¡¯t certain what to do about Not-Martin Luther, but I was willing to bet that he would be helpful towards my goals. Roland had volunteered to help with finding heroes. I¡¯d ask him if he was prepared to look for the man.


    That left the church. The anger I had felt before had cooled in the time since I had left. Cooled and frozen over into an ice-cold rage. The church would need to be handled carefully. I¡¯d need Songbird¡¯s help to concoct the right kind of scheme.


    I wouldn¡¯t be satisfied until the Holies were unseated and work had begun on organizing the other heroes within the Principate under the umbrella of the House of Light. This was my mess. I¡¯d made the bet that I could organize the chaos that would come from this choice. Now I had to validate that decision.


    I ignored the suggestive sign outside the establishment as I entered the Snake¡¯s Nest and wiped off my feet before making my way to the suite we had rented out on the second floor. The hinges of the garish purple door creaked as I turned the rusted iron handle.


    Thunk.


    ¡°Is anyone here?¡±


    Thunk.


    It was quiet except for a repeated knocking sound. My toes relaxed as they moved off the cold, hard wooden floor and sunk into the soft, red carpet.


    Thunk.


    I entered the parlour.


    Songbird had her back to me. She was throwing knives at a dartboard on the wall before examining her shot and then retrieving them afterwards. Her posture was loose, her head cocked to one side, and her attention was entirely devoted to the target. Roland was nowhere to be found.


    ¡°Why is nobody¡­¡± my voice trailed off as I looked to my left.


    Yvette was scrunched up in her green tunic. She was almost fused to the leather couch she sat on beside the rickety coffee table. Her eyes were red.


    One of her dreams was brittle. It was teetering on the edge of breaking.


    I didn¡¯t often think about Yvette¡¯s dreams. It felt like I was invading her privacy if I did. This dream was one that I frequently assured her that she had already achieved. It wasn¡¯t her only dream, but it was one that shouldn¡¯t worry her.


    She wanted to make her mother proud of her.


    I bolted across the carpet, completely forgetting what else was on my mind.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    She looked away from me, averting her eyes.


    I knelt down and seized her in a hug.


    At least she didn¡¯t flinch.


    It wasn¡¯t something that I had done.


    ¡°Please tell me,¡± I kept my voice soft. ¡°I¡¯ll try to help. Promise.¡±


    She remained unresponsive, just sniffed and rocked from side to side.


    ¡°Yvette ran into someone while she was out with Roland,¡± Songbird answered my question. Her voice had a hard edge. ¡°Someone who made a big fuss, said some words to both of them, then ran off.¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s Roland?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s taking a walk to clear his head. Said he¡¯d be back later.¡±


    ¡°Was it a man or a woman?¡±


    Songbird told me what Roland had told her. I asked another question, then another. My suspicion grew with every added detail.


    It was the new person with Tattletale¡¯s story, and she was already tearing apart other people¡¯s lives. This time it was the lives of people I cared about.


    Do you still want me to try to redeem her?


    The arm of the chair groaned as I gripped it tighter.


    My faith required that I try to help her. My own feelings demanded the opposite.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what to do.

 Concord 5.0b

    ¡°I assure you, it will only take five years at most to bring the High Lords under control.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Empress Sinistra IV, the Erroneous


    <hr>


    The pools of Esme¡¯s ocean blue eyes trailed from person to person as she swaggered with confidence between the people and tents set out in the open air market. They fell on a grizzled man who had raised an expensive rapier with a jewel encrusted handle to eye level.


    Discern.


    Behaviour: Sigh is wistful, man cannot afford the item that he¡¯s appraising. Hand clenching is involuntary, likely a sign of a substance addiction or battle fatigue.


    Speculation: Possibility he¡¯s planning something? Perhaps a heist? No, fogged over eyes. Rapier reminds him of an event in his past. No avarice.


    Useless. Esme turned away from the man in disgust. He was a dead end.


    Esme had been adrift at sea on a foggy night for the span of a day in the wake of her brother¡¯s demise. The choice he had made had struck like lightning on a cloudless day. Since then, Esme had vowed to herself to never again be caught unaware in such an unseemly manner. She had cursed at the Gods in her anger. Railed at the injustice of it all. Then she had begun to investigate, eavesdrop on every sheltered whisper that she could.


    If those who claimed to be good would do nothing to ensure punishment was meted out when it was due, then she would dispense it herself. First she would acquire the funds she needed, then she would purchase the services of those skilled at doling out death under the veil of the night.


    Esme had known the purpose she strove for long before she first called upon Discern. It was only a confirmation of the path she already walked. Neither the nobility nor the priests had seen fit to extend a hand to her brother. Worse: some had participated in the farce which brought about his demise ¡ª whispering the poison their mother had espoused into his vulnerable ears. She owed them all less than the dirt on her now worn leather boots.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not going to spend any silver, then piss off,¡± the man who owned the fish stall behind her spat at her.


    Esme took two steps back, but a thick gob landed in her hair regardless.


    ¡°Your salmon has a pungent odour. See that discolouration: it¡¯s a sign that they need to be burned,¡± Esme shouted out, scowling at the man. ¡°Anyone who eats what you offer will find themselves sick soon afterwards. I think that you should be flogged for hawking rot in the market.¡±


    ¡°You trade in lies, woman. I have no time for stragglers. Leave so that others may browse in peace.¡±


    Confidence. The key to selling a good untruth was confidence. A better fabrication would be a partial truth, or an omitted truth, but confidence sold an outright deception.


    ¡°I¡¯m warning all of you,¡± she made large, sweeping gestures with her arms as she shouted, ¡°this man is attempting to poison us. Better to try your luck at a cleaner stall.¡±


    There weren¡¯t many people in the market for fish. Those that were here to buy had followed along from the moment she raised her voice. They didn¡¯t know if she told the truth or was spinning a yarn, but all of them chose to follow her advice. It was wiser not to take risks with food poisoning. The false servants of Above may be able to cure their woes, but it would still make for an uncomfortable time during the wait.


    The fishmonger bleated like a goat in anger, but Esme was already dashing off. She weaved and ducked between other stalls, doing her best to become just another visage in the sea of mediocrity. Should she stop beside that mountain of a baker? He had much in common with the domed roof of the nearby cathedral. No. Esme doubted that there would be anything interesting to ferret there. Esme strode past the rapier of a man hawking tools imported from Mercantis. His two bodyguards made menacing motions with their blades at all who drew near.


    Attempting theft within their vicinity would be unwise.


    At long last, she came to a stop beside a pallid looking scribe.


    Esme scowled.


    She reached towards the fine strands of her onyx hair with her wiry fingers and tried to clean them off. That bastard. Her hair was one of the few reminders she had of her dead sibling. It was one of the features they had shared before he had chosen to cut his own thread short.


    Esme¡¯s attention fell on her surroundings once her task was complete. Her eyes alighted upon two figures approaching. They passed a cobbler and a seamstress, before pausing to make way for an ox.


    The first was an Alamans boy that she presumed was only a few years past his twentieth summer. That made the boy no more than five summers her senior. He was garbed in leathers and silks. His right hand brushed through his brown curls, before dropping towards his side. Esme narrowed her eyes. The boy¡¯s fingers were decked with many rings that twinkled in the reflected light from the snow. None of his many accessories looked cheap.


    Esme wondered what secrets the boy held. She longed for friends, allies to help her carry out her vengeance, but those she examined all fell below the waterline of her expectations. Either they were too incapable, too ineffective, or they were too dangerous for her to conspire with. She could not approach other members of the nobility ¡ª they were as vile as her family were and would turn upon her at a moment¡¯s notice ¡ª and for the same reason she could not approach the priests.


    Would he make for a trustworthy conspirator? He was easy on the eyes, but that wasn¡¯t a strong foundation for trust.


    Behaviour: Stands loose, but eyes are alert. Watching, aware, looking for danger.


    Appearance: Irises are the incorrect colour. Sign of previous injury? Has several other scars.


    Speculation: Perhaps a soldier? No, that doesn¡¯t warrant enough pay to afford his clothes.


    ¡°Is something remiss?¡± the boy asked, his lips almost hinting at a smile.


    ¡°No, nothing¡¯s the matter,¡± Esme replied.


    ¡°You appeared to be lost in thought.¡±


    ¡°Do you need me to walk out of your way?¡±


    ¡°I would appreciate it if you were to step to one side so that I may inspect the stall.¡±


    Esme moved over and allowed him to peruse the scribe¡¯s wares. She had no desire to earn the ire of a potential war veteran. It was not long before the boy had his attention riveted on texts sold by the scribe. Esme tutted to herself. It was impolite of her to stare. Her eyes trailed left, following the direction of his gaze. Far enough to not be looking at him, but for him to still be trapped within her sight. There. Now she could observe him without giving offence. There were secrets here. Esme could almost taste them on the air.


    Appearance: Bracelet is silver, expensive, fitted with a genuine emerald. Symbol of snake carved below the emerald. Rune ¡ª not decorative.


    Speculation: Likely enchanted. Enchanted? Sorcerer, the man is a war wizard.


    Esme bit her lip. The church bells tolled at the back of her mind in warning. She had a suspicion that her discernment was incorrect, but she wasn¡¯t certain of why. It was unfortunate, but she doubted the man would make for an acceptable ally. There was too high a risk of him having existing attachments to any of her chosen foes.


    But perhaps this encounter could prove to be of use to her in other ways.


    The man had excess capital and could afford a loss of coin. Esme required an injection of wealth to keep her schemes afloat. Stealing from the nobility was fraught with too much risk, but none would listen to the words of a wizard. They were viewed in a worse light than Esme was.


    Esme turned towards the girl following him. By examining her, she hoped to learn more about her mark. Blonde haired and clad in green, she looked like a baby yew tree during the month of autumn.


    Behaviour: Eyes never settle. Has trouble focusing, inattentive. Subtle changes in expression towards no perceptible phenomena. Lost in either thoughts or memories. Reaches towards her pouch often for reassurance.


    Appearance: Too old to be his daughter, lacks any physical resemblance. Not siblings. The two remain within each other¡¯s boundaries. Implies a level of trust. Apprentice?


    Speculation: Pouch contains tools of her trade. Wizards frequently make use of expensive or unusual materials for their sorceries. It is probable the contents can be pawned for a not insignificant amount of coin.


    Now, how to take advantage of what she had learned?


    The girl¡¯s trinkets would doubtless be worth less than anything her teacher possessed, but have a higher value than anything most of her usual targets owned. The girl was also far less alert than her mentor, making her a safer horse to wager on.


    ¡°I will return in a while, Yvette. Should I expect you to remain here and browse the markets, or do you intend to follow me as I complete this trade?¡±


    Word order and choice: remain before follow. Expect compared to intend. Indicates a preference for Yvette remaining.


    Word choice: while ¡ª vague. Unsure of how long the trade will take, believes it will be a long time.


    Behaviour: pursing of lips and furrowing of brows. Indicates he suspects Yvette will not approve of what he is about to do.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here Roland there¡¯s so much to look at ma is always so busy she doesn¡¯t take me to places like this all that often but I like being able to browse shops and see what is for sale I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll find anything I can use but there¡¯s no guarantee.¡±


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


    Behaviour ¡ª Roland: softening of features when Yvette mentions her mother. Amicable with her. No, enamoured with her. Looking after Yvette to earn her approval.


    Word Emphasis ¡ª Yvette: Strong emphasis on the word ¡°ma.¡± Implies something happened to her mother in the past.


    Speculation: Mother has an injury or permanent disability. A lost limb would be beyond the ability of the priests to heal. Roland is attracted to the mother despite her obvious failings, and took on the girl¡¯s apprenticeship as a way to earn her favour.


    Behaviour ¡ª Yvette: Eyes are wistful. Cares about her mother. Craves her approval. Insecure.


    Speculation: Believes that she does not have her mother¡¯s approval. No, thinks she has it, but that it¡¯s transient. Wants to impress her mother. Mother is hard to impress. Point of vulnerability.


    ¡°Be sure not to cause any mischief while I am away.¡± His voice was injected with levity, but that was not what Esme took away from the exchange.


    Behaviour ¡ª Yvette: Narrowing of eyes, stiffening of shoulders after the word mischief was said. Attempting to hide the fact that she flinched.


    Speculation: Yvette often makes mistakes. Is sensitive about it. Likely made a major mistake in the past. Perhaps she was responsible for her mother¡¯s flaws?


    Roland waited while the scribe packed away his merchandise, then fell in step with the man as they both left. This was the opportunity that Esme had been scouting the market for.


    Yvette dodged and fumbled her way through the crowd. It puzzled Esme how the scatterbrained girl avoided colliding with anyone, despite appearing to pay no attention to where her boots took her. She even walked in front of an oncoming galloping horse without being injured in the process.


    Esme¡¯s bushy eyebrows rose with every fortunate evasion.


    Yvette¡¯s wandering came to a stop beside a bronze statue of Clothor Merovins in the centre of the market square. She sat down on a stone bench below it, then fidgeted as she watched the passing crowds.


    Esme took a seat to her right. Yvette did not even appear to notice. She was too absorbed in her own thoughts. The pouch was within reach. Esme acknowledged that she could seize it already, at likely no consequence to herself. The girl was such a moon-calf that she wouldn¡¯t notice if somebody cut off her ears, but there was no reason for Esme to take unnecessary risks. It was far safer to distract the girl first.


    ¡°You¡¯ll never earn your mother¡¯s approval,¡± she began.


    Yvette turned towards Esme. Her cheeks were inflated like boils.


    ¡°Hmm and what would you know it''s not like you know anything about me go bother someone else and leave-¡±


    Yvette bristled as she retorted.


    ¡°You will take another wrong turn like you always do, or you¡¯ll hurt her again,¡± Esme cut in.


    She frowned with distaste inside. It was uncouth to interrupt another, but she could not allow the girl to muster a defence. She moved her hand at a snails pace towards the girl¡¯s pouch.


    ¡°You and I have never met before so I don¡¯t know what you have against me I know I¡¯ll mess up again I always do but that¡¯s fine my ma is fine with it and she¡¯s a priest my mistakes aren¡¯t unforgivable and I¡¯ll learn and do better the-¡±


    Behaviour: physically withdrawing, feels doubt but is unwilling to let it affect her. Latter accusations had little impact. She does not hold herself responsible for her mother¡¯s injury.


    Word Choice: Unforgivable ¡ª deliberate, has made mistakes that she considers unforgivable in the past.


    Speculation: One of her mistakes led to more than a single person¡¯s death.


    If Esme had felt any guilt at her ongoing larceny, it would have evaporated with mention of the mother¡¯s vocation. A priest excusing murder? It was as expected as the final grain of sand reaching the bottom of the hourglass. Liars, all of them. Was there even a single person in this city who deserved Esme¡¯s respect? Esme excepted, of course. If anything, she now had further reasons to not only plunge in the knife, but give it a minor twist as well.


    ¡°There¡¯s only so many people you can kill before your mother abandons you. With the path you walk, I expect that one day you will cross the wrong bridge and an entire city will burn down for it.¡±


    The girl flinched, her face draining of colour. Esme¡¯s hand crept closer to Yvette¡¯s pouch. She pulled it loose. Yvette was too lost in the maze of her distress to notice.


    ¡°That-that¡¯s not true I would never not again I¡¯m not a villain I-¡±


    Yvette shook her head emphatically from side to side as she continued to protest. Her blonde hair became frazzled, covering over her eyes.


    Behaviour: impassioned withdrawal indicates she holds herself to a high degree of guilt.


    Word Choice: Not again ¡ª indicates she believes that she has burned down a city before.


    The further she mined the depths of the priesthood¡¯s deceptions, the more certain Esme became of the journey that she had embarked upon.


    ¡°I wonder what it will take for you to see the folly of your own actions. How many must suffer first? Is one city not enough, or must the whole of Creation burn for you to understand that you will never amount to more than a failure in the eyes of all around you.¡± Esme spoke with passion, heat lacing her voice.


    She had only intended for this to be minor theft ¡ª inconsequential to her at most ¡ª but it had become a small part of her quest instead. A chance for her to exact the justice she craved upon one who had evidently earned it and did not have the fangs to bite back. It was a pity that none would believe the child guilty of the crimes writ in invisible ink upon her soul. None but Esme could truly be trusted to hold others to account.


    ¡°My ma always talks about people redeeming themselves and how-¡±


    ¡°Your mother is blinded by her own love, but love can only veil so much. I wonder how much more failure it will endure? Do you believe her love for you will survive your next catastrophe? You are nothing more than a disaster on two stubby little legs who will never deserve the love that your mother gives you. One day she will see past her own blinders and cast you aside. You will never make her proud.¡±


    The girl¡¯s face drained of all colour as Esme continued to speak. Yvette had gone entirely still, frozen, much like the corpses of beggars in the slums at midwinter. Her eyes began to water, then she started to shake.


    Pouch in hand and satisfied, Esme began to leave.


    She hummed as she departed, then opened the pouch. It was time to examine her spoils. Her brows furrowed. There was a mismatched assortment of odds and ends contained within the pouch. Vials containing exotic liquids, fragments of rocks, powders, and many other miscellaneous oddities that Esme could not identify.


    A series of crumpled parchments near the bottom of the pouch caught her attention.


    Stepping out of the square and into the shadow of one of the upper nobility¡¯s mansions, she halted and pulled them out, then unfurled the texts to learn what she could. She found to her frustration that she could make neither crown nor boot of whatever was noted on the page. That was not the worst of it. The moment she looked up from the sheet of parchment, its contents seemed to slip out from her mind.


    Esme scowled. It shouldn¡¯t surprise her that a wizard would enchant their own notes to prevent others from discerning truth from them. Wizards were no better than priests, after all. She hoped that it would not impact the value of the goods when she pawned them off to a fence.


    Replacing the contents, she closed the pouch once more and continued on her way.


    At least a small measure of satisfaction had been obtained.


    One more of the so-called righteous taken in hand. One, among far too many. Esme would not cease until every dark secret had been unearthed and all had faced her judgement. Esme would call them to account one by one. She would feed them the dosage of poison they had earned. Justice delivered at the end of her sharp tongue, before justice at the end of a blade.


    None would escape from the unflinching gaze of the Inquisitor.


    Her efforts would spare none from the consequences of the wrongs she perceived them to have committed. It did not concern Esme if those wrongs were real or merely imagined. For was it not true that all action was rooted in thought? It was deep within the confines of the mind that all troubles began.


    Esme would purge the corruption at the source.


    <hr>


    Laurence struggled not to grimace as she departed from the quiet town on horseback. Her mood was as black as the storm clouds above. It was hard to ride when she could not feel her legs. Breath fogging the air before her, she followed where the road cut through snowed covered fields. Autumn had died and winter had come in its wake.


    She followed her calling as she drew further south. South and to the east. She had crossed over into the Principality of Bayeux only a few days past.


    Day by day she felt her choosing ebb out of her.


    A roadblock had been set up on the highway ahead. Laurence slowed. An arrow was fired her way. Her wrinkled hand darted to her side and drew her sword from her scabbard, then intercepted the projectile in mid-air.


    Her blade cut just a moment slower when she swung than it had in times long past.


    How much longer until she was no longer swift enough?


    Roadside bandits. The thought was almost wistful. It brought back memories of better years, when the world was smaller and her problems left scars that did not cut as deep. Memories of years spent wandering when her largest obstacle was what to eat and where to sleep, with few struggles strewn between.


    Two more arrows. Both failed to make their mark. The face of her opposition drained of life, matching the colour of the snow. By now they realized that they had made a mistake with gut-spilling consequences.


    One of the bandits ¡ª a woman no older than thirty ¡ª dropped her bow and pulled free a short sword from her side. It did not matter. Laurence swung low. Scarlet hair tossed in the air as the head parted from the body below. Two more swings ¡ª and some begging and screaming and in between ¡ª and the conflict was resolved.


    She would have checked their corpses and buried them or consigned them to flames before the journey into the Chain. That was beyond her now. Laurence cleaned her blade and rode on.


    The sounds of the world had almost become muted to her as the days had passed since her departure from Rhenia. She feared that soon she would not be able to Listen at all. It had been a talent she had paid the price for most dearly. A talent that she did not wish to see fade.


    Laurence knew what it meant.


    Her final hour was drawing to a close.


    She was not one to fade away peacefully. For a while, she had considered crossing the border through the Red Flower Vales and taking up arms in Callow. Even crippled, it would not be much work for her to cut her way through those walls. They had been built by the Principate in an age long past, then repurposed against Procer by Callow in the years that followed. Despite that, they did not hold a candle to the fortified bastions in the north.


    Much good could be done if the Evils to the east were laid low.


    Even if she accounted for the chaos Taylor had brought with her, many seasons would pass before the Calamities were toppled from their wicked thrones. She could hunt for them and cut them down one by one before her life came to an end. She knew that she couldn''t claim them all, but each death would help carve a path that would lead to the eventual demise of the band. Perhaps there would even be an apprentice to teach before the final confrontation somewhere at the Tower¡¯s base.


    The thought had tempted her, but she had killed it before she made a choice that she would come to regret.


    Laurence would not rail against her fate. She knew that her story would remain unclosed if she left the Principate. Evil still remained buried in the heart of Procer. Wickedness ran rampant within the minds of all its leaders, save for the Lycaonese. Even if she died painting the grass with one of the Calamity¡¯s innards, it would still be the incorrect decision to make.


    Laurence would stay true to the path that she followed.


    She held that it was best for them to put their own house in order first. Skin all the cats that troubled the Principate, before setting their sights on the Tower.


    So she followed the road as the hidden knife that Taylor did not know that she possessed. A time would come soon when her blade would be drawn one last time. A final swing of the sword to bring an end to her story and usher in a new one.

 Concord 5.05

    ¡°Misunderstandings caused by a break in the chain of command are one of the leading causes of defeat of otherwise successful armies. Therefore, an army where all soldiers have equal access to information is one that is unable to lose.¡±


    ¡ª Isabella the Mad, Proceran general


    <hr>


    My eyes moved between Songbird and the parlour door. She nodded, pulled her knives out of her target, then danced her way out the room.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I tried again, whispering to Yvette much as I would offer comfort to a wounded animal.


    She remained unresponsive.


    Time for more drastic measures.


    ¡°Make some space for me.¡±


    I sat down beside her on the leather couch. It was uncomfortable. There wasn¡¯t really enough room for both of us, it was designed to seat only one person. I hugged her with my right arm. She clung to me like a leech and buried her head against me.


    ¡°Whatever it was she told you, don¡¯t believe it. I knew the last person who held that Role. She would often say a lot of awful things when she had a goal and someone was in the way. That doesn¡¯t make any of them true.¡±


    I paused while Yvette kept sniffing. She was starting to listen. Her eyes were no longer lost in a place dark and far away. I started to speak once more, being sure to keep my tone as soothing as possible.


    ¡°This girl ran away from home and has nobody in the world who cares for her. She¡¯s not the kind of person you should be taking advice from. Promise. This is just the start of her story as well. She¡¯s had her Name for less time than you. Don¡¯t listen to anything she said.¡±


    ¡°She-she told me that I¡¯d burn down another city. I make mistakes. I know that I always make a mess. Right now, I can¡¯t even say that she¡¯s wrong.¡± Yvette stuttered her way through her reply.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t burn down anything,¡± I replied. It was hard to keep my anger out of my voice.


    I knew that this wouldn¡¯t be Lisa. It would be someone else playing the same Role. While I had been friends with Lisa, that didn¡¯t mean I would be able to be friends with whoever this was. It would be a mistake for me to treat this new person the same way as I had treated my friend.


    ¡­ And I admitted to myself grudgingly that while Lisa may have been good for me, there were many people that she was a nightmare for. An uncomfortable knot anchored itself to the base of my stomach. I didn¡¯t like that I cared about this stranger that I¡¯d never met, even though she¡¯d hurt my family.


    ¡°But how can I be sure? I thought I made an illusion of an inferno, but maybe I was wrong, perhaps the flames were real.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything,¡± I repeated. My voice was more firm the second time.


    ¡°And how do I know that I won¡¯t do it again?¡± she was lost in her own thoughts once more, not listening to what I said. ¡°Even if the fires weren¡¯t me, the other people who died were. All it takes is one big mistake, and then lots of people die.¡±


    Yvette¡¯s hair was a mess. I ran the fingers of my left hand through it with care, doing my best to straighten it while I thought.


    ¡°Yvie, trust me. That won¡¯t happen.¡±


    ¡°Stop saying that!¡± she said, her voice filled with heat. ¡°It doesn¡¯t help.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± I trailed off.


    What would Max do?


    He would have sat and listened, then not interrupted. He wouldn¡¯t have tried to give me solutions, only been there as a shoulder to cry on. So I¡¯d do the same. I didn¡¯t know if it was the right call, but my first attempt to help my daughter hadn¡¯t worked out.


    I thought about using my memories of Jessica Yamada as a reference, but dismissed the idea. She might have been professionally trained as a therapist, but she also failed to get through to me. Perhaps it was just the circumstances, the constant tension about the end of the world but¡­ I¡¯d go with what helped me through my own problems.


    ¡°Tell me what else worries you,¡± I tried.


    ¡°I always mess up my magic, even when I try my hardest. How can I even hope to do something like stop problems in the Chain of Hunger if I risk making a mistake?¡±


    It was a fair concern, but one that I thought with time she would grow out of. The issue of the Ratlings wasn¡¯t one easily solved. She would be much more capable by the time any attempt would be made there.


    ¡°I¡¯ve made big mistakes in the past, like in Aisne or even up north. How can I risk being around people when there is always a chance that I hurt them?¡±


    Now that she had started talking, she was building up momentum. It wasn¡¯t nice seeing her lambaste herself, but at least she wasn¡¯t withdrawing entirely.


    ¡°Did I kill my parents as well? They told me not to go outside at night, or to play down by the stream. I didn¡¯t listen to them, and they died the same day. It was probably my fault. I¡¯m sure of it. The Ratlings followed me home. That must be it.¡±


    I had known she was haunted by demons, I just didn¡¯t understand how many of them there were.


    ¡°Will I do the same to you? Will you die trying to take care of me? Maybe I should leave so that nobody else gets hurt.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about that, Yvie. You know how hard it is to hurt me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it by accident anyhow,¡± she mumbled into my side.


    Was I this melodramatic when I was thirteen? I wasn¡¯t going to delve through my memories to find out.


    ¡°Nothing I¡¯ve done so far matters. I always get lost in memories. Drift off, then make a mistake. I¡¯ve been useless in every fight,¡± she continued her rant.


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t want to fight. That you wanted to end the Ratling curse and develop a system of magic around transmutation.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t even talk properly. Think about it. I always get lost in thought, or talk too fast, or lose focus entirely!¡±


    ¡°I like the way you talk,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    At last. She hadn¡¯t broken out of her downward spiral yet, but she was interested in what I said.


    ¡°It makes me happy to see you happy.¡±


    ¡°Do you like seeing me mess up? Is that it? Is that the reason you take care of me, because you like to laugh at my mistakes?¡± Yvette bristled.


    How do I fix this?


    ¡°No,¡± I voiced my denial with a bit more force than I intended. ¡°I like it because it reminds me of myself.¡±


    Yvette paused and turned my way. Her eyes narrowed like those of a cat.


    ¡°You don¡¯t talk like me at all.¡±


    ¡°These days I don¡¯t. I used to, long ago.¡±


    I finished straightening out her hair, then put my hand back in my lap. Yvette was starting to relax, although she was slow to do so.


    ¡°So you like that I do something that you grew out of?¡± She replied, her tone of voice was accusatory.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t grow out of it. A friend betrayed me. She hurt me until I stopped. Until I didn¡¯t even want to go on living.¡±


    ¡°Oh. What did she do?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve suffered worse than I did and still not lost that part of you. It makes me proud of you, even if I¡¯m sad about what you have had to endure. Nobody should have to. I couldn¡¯t have done the same.¡±


    Yvette swallowed, gathered her courage, then spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t want to keep talking like I do. I don¡¯t want to keep making mistakes. Even if you like me because of it.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    I heard the door to our suite opening and closing once more. Footsteps echoed as somebody entered the rooms we were renting. I¡¯d bet it was Roland.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± she sounded incredulous.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± I reassured her. ¡°Why would I have a problem with that?¡±


    ¡°But you just said¡­¡±


    ¡°That the way you speak reminds me of when I was younger. That¡¯s true, but you aren¡¯t me, and you don¡¯t need to be me. The fact is that I care about you regardless. I¡¯ll still care about you as you change and grow older. I¡¯ll care about you when you find your first boyfriend or girlfriend, or even decide you don¡¯t want to be in a relationship at all.¡± I paused, ¡°No sex until you¡¯re older, though.¡±


    She glared at me like an angry chipmunk, her cheeks reddening.


    ¡°I that¡¯s what I¡¯m not-¡±


    I snorted, then started to laugh. She¡¯d started to vibrate with energy again, the way she always did. It wasn¡¯t a fix ¡ª I knew that ¡ª but it was a start. What was far more important to me was that her dream had started to stabilize again.


    ¡°You just said that to make me embarrassed and distract me from my worries,¡± she accused me.


    ¡°Definitely,¡± I agreed. ¡°Did it work?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ we have a problem,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°She stole my pouch. Most of my reagents can be replaced, but a few can¡¯t be, and neither can my notes on the runes from the Titan city.¡±


    I heard voices from outside the room. Songbird and Roland.


    ¡°That is a concern,¡± I agreed.


    I was more than a little concerned about it, but I couldn¡¯t allow it to show. Yvette needed to be reassured. If I mentioned the possibility of her notes being auctioned off to a wayward member of the Eyes of the Empire, her worries would run away once more.


    ¡°You sound far less upset about that than I expected.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°Yvie, it¡¯s not your fault.¡± I kept my voice gentle, but firm. ¡°You didn¡¯t give her the pouch, she stole it. I¡¯m not angry with you, I¡¯m angry with her.¡±


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°It still means that we¡¯ll need to chase after her.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. She¡¯s a villain, and I was intending to do something about her even before she hurt you,¡± I answered. ¡°We¡¯ll get your possessions back. I promise.¡±


    ¡°How can you be sure?¡±


    ¡°I know her story better than anyone else in Calernia. We¡¯ll just arrange the next few steps. I promise we¡¯ll catch her.¡±


    I might not be able to step into any of the Roles of my old stories, but that didn¡¯t prevent me from setting up others in them. Songbird was capable of playing the Role of Coil just fine if I wanted to catch myself a fox.


    It wasn¡¯t a heroic Role, but I didn¡¯t intend for Songbird to stay in it for long. She didn¡¯t fit the Role of a traditional hero anyhow.


    ¡°Why is it that when you say that, it scares me?¡± Yvette muttered.


    Yvette concentrated with every sentence that she spoke. The fact that she wasn¡¯t talking like she was before made my heart ache a little, but¡­ if changing this part of herself was so important to her¡­ I¡¯d support her even if I thought it was sad.


    ¡°You feeling better?¡±


    She gave me a timid nod.


    ¡°Can I call in the others?¡±


    ¡°You can call them in.¡±


    I climbed to my feet. Yvette sprawled herself out on the chair once more, like a cat pouring itself into a mould.


    I grabbed the rusted iron handle and pulled, then stuck my head around the corner. I peeked into the narrow corridor serving as an interstice between our various rooms. The back of Songbird¡¯s ragged jacket blocked my view of Roland. The two of them were engrossed in a discussion.


    ¡°Y¡¯know Roland, I think you made our priestess angry. Y¡¯should get on your knees and confess to her. Maybe ask her to wear a ragged robe that you can look up. A good fuck would do both of you wonders.¡±


    ¡°I no longer have any intent to court her,¡± he replied. ¡°She trusted me to care for Yvette, and I failed at that duty.¡±


    How do those two relate? Forget it, Taylor. It must be some kind of Alamans thing that he didn¡¯t bother to explain to me in the past.


    ¡°No more designs upon her virtue?¡± Songbird chortled. ¡°Then why¡¯d you buy that bottle? Thought you were gonna try to convince her to drink. It would be a miracle of a different kind if you succeeded.¡±


    ¡°The bottle is for me.¡±


    ¡°D¡¯you mind if I share it with you?¡±


    ¡°If you wish to drink with me, then who am I to refuse?¡±


    ¡°You two can come into the parlour,¡± I stated.


    There was a shuffle of feet as both of them started to approach. Songbird¡¯s lips were turned down, her eyes narrowed in thought. She trailed her fingers against the dark wooden panelling with one hand and tapped her leg with the other.


    My eyes fell on Roland.


    Well, at least he¡¯s no longer planning to sleep with me.


    He was telling the truth. His dream was dead. It didn¡¯t concern me. I was angry with him. Far angrier than I had been before. I¡¯d trusted Yvette¡¯s safety to him, and he¡¯d let me down. I would need to hear the full story later, but I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d be escaping my judgement as easily this time around.


    The three of us ambled back into the room. Songbird shut the ugly purple door and I took a seat on the chair to Yvette¡¯s right, with the coffee table between us. The others sat down on the chair opposite to me.


    I started to fill them in on my meeting with the Holies. They filled me in on everything they had seen and done in return. It took a while, but eventually we moved on to planning.


    ¡°So this is what I believe we should do. The Holies are corrupt. There is no doubt about that in my mind. Corruption as extensive as I believe there to be requires documentation. Even if most of their record keeping is spread between the various cathedrals, the most important parts will be stored at either the Starlit Cloister, or somewhere else in Salia.¡±


    ¡°So you intend for us to spirit away the evidence of their misdeeds,¡± Roland surmised.


    ¡°S¡¯pose that¡¯s one way to prove they¡¯re corrupt. How do you plan to get the documents?¡±


    Songbird took another deep pull of wine out of a bottle, then passed it across to Roland on her right. Both of them were savages.


    ¡°There is an unspoken invite for me to live in the Starlit Cloister. I¡¯ll ask for a tour of the place. Songbird can follow behind me, invisible. Once we find out where the accounts are, she can get a hold of them.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how this gets you what you want. You want to be in charge of the House of Light, this doesn¡¯t help with that.¡± Yvette enunciated her words with care. It was heart-wrenching to see.


    ¡°I can sorta see what Taylor is planning,¡± Songbird replied to Yvette. ¡°She¡¯s gonna pretend to agree with the Holies, show them the plans she has that they would agree with. The ones that give them more power, then convince the Holies to put her in charge. M¡¯not sure what comes next. Prob¡¯ly taking the evidence of their guilt to Cordelia Hasenbach once she¡¯s been elected First Prince. Offer to remove the Holies if she supports your position.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Songbird had more or less summed up my plan. It shouldn¡¯t have surprised me how much she had been able to guess with so few breadcrumbs to follow.


    ¡°It¡¯s a shit plan.¡± Songbird replied.


    ¡°Why?¡± Her answer came as a surprise.


    ¡°Cordelia has no reason to follow along with this plan, even if the Church does appoint you their leader.¡±


    ¡°It gives her a hold over the church.¡±


    ¡°Once she has evidence of their fuckups, she doesn¡¯t need you. She¡¯ll prob¡¯ly take the evidence, set up an inquisition of her own and remove as much power from the House of Light as she can. S¡¯what I¡¯d do. It¡¯s in her best interest.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in agreement with Songbird.¡±


    ¡°What about my notes?¡± Yvette interjected. ¡°You said you would do something about this villain, but you haven¡¯t talked about that at all.¡±


    ¡°Taylor, d¡¯you mind if I suggest a plan?¡± Songbird asked, taking the bottle from Roland again.


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    Let¡¯s see if she learned anything from last time, Taylor.


    ¡°So, the way I see it is that y¡¯shouldn¡¯t do any sneaking around here at all. No plans to backstab, nothing like that.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Her refusal to scheme at all took me by surprise.


    ¡°Remember what the Bard said about you scheming?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but that was before I went to the Chain of Hunger. Before I allowed everyone to step into my stories.¡±


    ¡°Stories that you can¡¯t be a part of,¡± Songbird pointed out.


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± I conceded.


    ¡°Now see, m¡¯not named, so I might be wrong. I deal in schemes, not stories, but there is some overlap. Stories are a kind of lie. The way I see it, you fit best into one Role. Guess which one?¡±


    ¡°Priestess?¡± It seemed obvious to me.


    ¡°I think you¡¯re wrong, ma.¡± Yvette said from beside me. She sounded pleased about that.


    ¡°What Role am I then?¡±


    ¡°I think you fit the Role of an Angel,¡± Yvette replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m not that good. I know what Angels are like,¡± I disagreed.


    ¡°Y¡¯see, I agree with Yvette. S¡¯not about how good you are, it¡¯s about which Role you fit into. You¡¯re an immortal servant of the Gods Above that¡¯s formed out of the Light and has dedicated their entire existence towards trying to guide people to be better. You¡¯re obviously not as good as an Angel, or as powerful as one, but it¡¯s the Role you fit into.¡±


    I wanted to argue with that assessment, but found that I couldn¡¯t. Even if there was almost nothing about my personality that made me angelic, the superficial Role I had slotted myself into was that of an Angel.


    I was uneasy despite that.


    ¡°What does that change?¡±


    ¡°Well, Angels don¡¯t scheme. They¡¯re pure. The Bard told you to fit your Role. The more you fit it, the stronger your story¡¯ll be.¡±


    ¡°Then what should I do?¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯should do what an Angel does,¡± Songbird sounded satisfied.


    ¡°It¡¯s rare for an Angel to intercede. You want me to do nothing?¡±


    Was I willing to go along with this? I didn¡¯t think I was. None of them would have been this flippant about the Angelic Choirs before they met me. I was the one who had changed that. I knew that the Angels didn¡¯t mind, but I did. It was ironic that now I was the one offended by it. Was this the reason everyone was so reverent about Angels? Not because it was required, but because their chosen servants were devoted to them.


    ¡°Your conclusion is incorrect,¡± Roland disagreed. ¡°Angels are called upon when the night is darkest and hope is all but extinguished.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know,¡± I could hear the mischief in Songbird¡¯s voice, ¡°y¡¯should swear an oath of chastity. Angels are s¡¯posed to be pure.¡±


    ¡°She could swear an oath of pacifism as well,¡± Yvette added, sharing in the mirth.


    ¡°M¡¯not sure about that one. The Choir of Judgement smites plenty.¡±


    ¡°Angels are sequestered from the rest of us. It stands to reason that she should reside in the Starlit Cloister, spending the rest of her days in prayer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry but¡­ I¡¯m not willing to do this,¡± I admitted. It felt like I was letting them all down.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°I know it¡¯s not pragmatic, or logical, or even reasonable, but¡­ even if I love them and consider them my family, they¡¯re only one step removed from the Gods that we worship. I¡¯m not willing to pretend to be one of them, or even try to fill the same Role.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯fine Taylor. We can do this with you as a priestess, but making me work harder hurts. Betrayal!¡± Songbird mimed the act of being stabbed through the heart. ¡°Roland,¡± she pointed towards him, ¡°will infiltrate the Starlit Cloister and find evidence of their wrongdoing. We¡¯ll have copies made, then distribute it among the merchants and the nobility. Seed rumours at brothels and the like.¡±


    Right, he¡¯s the rogue.


    ¡°Won¡¯t that cause chaos?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll cause outcry. Demands for the removal of the Holies. They¡¯ll deny the accusations, of course.¡±


    ¡°What do I do then?¡±


    ¡°Wait until the right moment, and then denounce them all in public.¡± Songbird¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Making that work¡¯ll be a bit of a pain.¡±


    Right. I¡¯m a hero with a clean reputation. I¡¯ll always win in a war of popular opinion, so I should always choose to fight one.


    ¡°Are you sure it won¡¯t end with a riot and deaths on the street?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose it could if there¡¯s fracturing up top, but I have some plans to head that off.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡±


    ¡°M¡¯gonna deal with the villain who made trouble with Yvette. Y¡¯told me it¡¯s a story that you know? How does it go?¡±


    ¡°The fox runs away from home and is caught by the snake. It convinces a spider to help kill the snake in order to earn its freedom.¡±


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly means that I¡¯ll be the snake.¡±


    She caught on quickly.


    ¡°If this villain works anything at all like the person I knew, then you shouldn¡¯t engage them yourself.¡±


    ¡°What do you recommend?¡±


    ¡°I should inspect her from somewhere she can¡¯t see me. Learn what I can about her. Then we bait a trap. You need to hire intermediaries and provide them with only partial information. The less they know, the easier it should be to trick her.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not sure all of that is necessary, but I¡¯ll see what I can do. I need to find her first. Gutting her comes afterwards.¡±


    ¡°No killing. I want to try to redeem her.¡±


    All three of them looked at me as if I¡¯d gone mad.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to punish her at all?¡± Yvette shrieked.


    ¡°Redemption doesn¡¯t mean that she escapes justice,¡± I kept my voice hard, ¡°nor does compassion. Compassion is about caring regardless of what happens. It hurts me even when I kill people that deserve it, but I still do it despite the nightmares I¡¯ll have afterwards.¡±


    I cared ¡ª far more than I should ¡ª about this person who had stepped into Lisa¡¯s Role, even though she¡¯d hurt Yvette. It was unlikely that she could be redeemed. I¡¯d still try my best. Even if I was furious at this person and didn¡¯t believe my best would be good enough.


    ¡°You promise?¡±


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose this is a matter of faith to you?¡± Songbird sighed.


    ¡°¡­ Yes.¡±


    ¡°While your faith is commendable, it is doubtful that this villain is one who can be reformed.¡± Roland took the bottle from Songbird, finished it off and set it down on the desk beside him.


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose I can prob¡¯ly still work with this.¡± Songbird muttered to herself.


    By now, her cheeks had turned red from the wine.


    ¡°What about the lay brother?¡± I interjected.


    ¡°He¡¯ll show up if he¡¯s needed.¡±


    ¡°That seems like poor planning.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a story we¡¯re telling. I know y¡¯don¡¯t like relying on them, but trust me. We can do this.¡±


    ¡°You promise this won¡¯t cause riots and bloodshed?¡±


    ¡°Promise.¡±


    I examined Songbird¡¯s face. She seemed sincere, but I wasn¡¯t so sure.


    ¡°How does this get me what I want?¡±


    ¡°There are a few more details to the plan. Here, listen.¡±


    And Songbird continued to talk.


    We all listened and added our own thoughts. By the time she was done laying out her plan, I had been persuaded to follow along with it. It wasn¡¯t the kind of scheme I would have concocted on my own. It relied far more on the narrative than I was used to, but¡­ I¡¯d told myself I¡¯d give Songbird a second chance. It was time she earned that trust.


    I knew that Good won more often than not when it came to the narrative. Perhaps it was time that I stopped avoiding stories, and instead used them as my first weapon of choice? It wasn¡¯t like I was still able to break them.


    So I¡¯d play the Role that I¡¯d already accepted, and see if Songbird¡¯s scheme paid off.

 Concord 5.0c

    ¡°Well, well, things just became interesting. It seems that those heroes of Judgement also have the right idea.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Empress Massacre the First


    <hr>


    ¡°Are you certain that you are unwilling to purchase these trinkets?¡± Esme inquired, gesturing towards the assorted oddities she had taxed from the wizard¡¯s apprentice.


    They were arrayed before her in neat lines atop the pawnbroker¡¯s aged counter top before her.


    The bald black man in a grey robe behind the counter shook his head and affected a consoling expression.


    ¡°Miss, I apologise. These reagents are too dangerous, never mind the notes. I¡¯m not willing to accept the risk. Try pawning them off somewhere else.¡± The man paused, his lips puckering as his wrinkled hands reached towards one of the vials as one would towards a venomous snake. ¡°This vial you should take to the priests. I don¡¯t know what creature this blood comes from. I put it under a few detection sorceries, and they all suggest that keeping it around is a bad idea.¡±


    Behaviour: Closing off of posture. Lightening in pallor is indicative of dread. Defensive.


    Speculation: Unwilling to retract his position.


    Esme had to veil her disappointment once more as she pondered what she had learned. Gazing into the soul of both this man and all the wizards she had attempted to peddle the apprentice¡¯s tools to had only ever yielded the same catch of fish.


    None of them had been open to purchasing either the reagents or the notes. This was the third wizard she had consulted ¡ª the first of which she suspected to be an infiltrator from Praes ¡ª and even he was unwilling to deal in her confiscated merchandise. Negotiating with one of these eastern savages disgusted her almost as much as talking to the clergy. It was a travesty. They would not be allowed across the border if Esme was in a position of leadership. Esme refused to consider their opinions as trustworthy. What could an apprentice wizard possess that would haunt even Praesi sorcerers?


    ¡°I appreciate your candour. I will search for another sorcerer then.¡±


    Once Esme had gathered her possessions and slung them in the bag hung over her shoulder, she then turned towards the door and traipsed past the rows of plants lining the wall beside the exit. The thirty-something year old guardsman beside the door did not deign to open it for her.


    Esme struggled not to scowl in distaste.


    She strolled past the unmannered guardsman ¡ª taking care to remain out of his reach ¡ª then pulled her yellow wool coat and mittens off the hook on the opposing wall and carefully slipped them on. Her clothes did not suit her tastes ¡ª she would much rather be clad in dresses and silks ¡ª but all suffered under the tyranny of winter, even one such as herself.


    At last, she was prepared to depart.


    Turning the brass doorknob, she let herself onto the street. The cold bit at her heels like a school of angry piranhas.


    Her lips dropped like an anchor once she had stepped beyond the threshold.


    Another turn of the hourglass gone to waste.


    She peered left, then right, then left again, examining the road to either side. Tall, narrow buildings lined the path on either side like masts reaching up into the sky. Her mother would have claimed that such brazen attempts to scale the heavens was a sign of blasphemy. Her mother had many such daft beliefs ¡ª the pretentious twit. The streets were deserted. Satisfied, she hiked up the road towards the setting sun. The lone ray of hope that peeked through an otherwise clouded sky.


    The back of Esme¡¯s neck tickled. It felt as if something was awry, but she could not lay a finger on what. She turned around. It appeared that nothing was out of the ordinary. The pond of peasantry continued to throng about their duties. A skeleton of a man with a bald head buried in a coffin of dark silks turned away from her as she examined the crowd. Esme was not one to allow minor details to trip her up. Her mother had called her paranoid, but it was the only sensible method of sailing the perilous waters of life among the nobility.


    Esme vivisected the man with her gaze.


    Appearance: Little to no musculature. Early fifties. Skin is pale, unused to spending time outdoors. Perhaps he is sickly?


    Behaviour: Muscles are relaxed. Eyes are unfocused. Looking for something or someone, but not immediately hostile.


    Esme dismissed the man, not considering it worth the time to speculate further. The man had not set his sights upon Esme, and thus the matter did not appear to concern her. She embarked once more on her journey. There was time to consult with one additional wizard before she needed to return to her current port of call.


    She was navigating through one of the less reputable districts within the Upper Yearning, and it was best that she remained alert. While even the least skilled of wizards were wealthy, there was a stark difference in means between a lady of her breeding and those who peddled cheap sorceries. Esme considered this part of the jewel of the west to be unsafe.


    She weaved her way between the few others on the streets, followed the road past a stand of poplars, then entered a section of narrow alleys. Esme was not pleased to have to venture into this part of the city. If the previous environs had been unsafe, then these were perilous waters. An uneasy silence pervaded the area. Ramshackle buildings with broken windows in a state of utter disrepair surrounded her.


    A loud noise echoed out.


    Esme tied a knot around her urge to shriek and turned towards the sound.


    A shaggy dog.


    It was only a dog.


    Esme let out a foggy breath in relief.


    A dark coat haunted the edge of her vision.


    The figure was hundreds of feet away in the distance. They shouldn¡¯t have concerned her, but they did.


    The back of Esme¡¯s neck prickled once more.


    She turned towards the figure. Something about him was familiar. Her eyes narrowed. Anyone else would be too far to garner any detail. Esme was not so limited.


    Appearance: Identical to figure from earlier. Additional details ¡ª Grey eyes, narrow facial features, left hand never strays from his side.


    Speculation: The man is hunting Esme.


    A chill ran down Esme¡¯s spine.


    Something ¡ª more than merely the possibility of being hunted ¡ª concerned her about the figure. His face stirred the still waters of her memories. Esme¡¯s attention wavered as she attempted to dredge up what she could recall.


    His identity came to her after a handful of heartbeats. Far too long, once she realized who the man was.


    Louis de Sartrons.


    Esme reached towards the rapier at her side unconsciously, then dismissed the folly of fighting the man from her thoughts. Esme doubted her schooling in the weapon would hold up to one such as him.


    She had been much younger when she last saw the man.


    The de Anouilh family had sailed into stormy waters ever since the dawn of the civil war. Their fortunes had waned to such an extent that they had needed to resort to more mercantile means in order to remain afloat. Trade with the seagulls that ruled over Mercantis had proven humiliating. The periods of extended land travel followed by time over the open waters had ruined any hope of accruing a reputation as a proper landed noble. It was whispered in the more popular salons that others among the Salia nobility mocked their house. They were heralded as nothing more than puffed up merchants, not fit to share bread at the table of the other nobility.


    They had only just returned to Salia after their last voyage to Mercantis when the omen that was Louis de Sartrons first darkened their door.


    She did not know much about the man beyond what her father had seen fit to divulge. He was a member of the Circle of Thorns ¡ª the arm of Procer¡¯s government that dealt with foreign threats ¡ª and it was dangerous to court their attention.


    Those that came under their scrutiny often vanished soon after.


    Should she risk a direct confrontation with the man? No. She doubted that even the cutting edge of her wit would spare her from the harsh scrutiny of his steel.


    Esme¡¯s heart raced like a boat in river rapids. She glanced around. The streets were deserted except for the two of them. The man would not dare to assault her in open view of others. Esme¡¯s pace accelerated, her legs swallowed the ground like a whale feasting on krill.


    Esme passed an abandoned vegetable stall, several derelict buildings, then came to an intersection. She took the path left. That way lay her destination. She risked a glance over her shoulder.


    The man still trailed behind her.


    The distance between the two of them had halved. Louis was no more than a hundred feet away. It would not be much longer until he caught up to her if she maintained her current pace.


    The sight of the spectre trailing behind her was enough to put wind in her sails.


    Breath quickening, Esme broke out into a sprint. She felt the apprentice¡¯s pouch loosen and drop as she attempted to lose her tail. She cursed within the security of her own thoughts. Left, right, left. Down one road, then another, then another. She needed to find a crowd to lose herself within.


    Where were all the people?


    Should she scream? No. Her reputation could not suffer the blow. Furthermore, none of the unsavoury individuals that would frequent this area could be trusted to offer assistance. She looked over her shoulder once more and noted with relief that the distance between them had grown. Louis de Sartrons had taken the opportunity to claim possession of the pouch.


    Esme berated herself for not examining the man further while the both of them were still swimming in a sea of people. Actually, why had he not seized her earlier? The Circle of Thorns did not need an excuse to conduct their investigations. Perhaps the man was acting outside his duties. It would not surprise Esme if the Circle of Thorns was as rotten as every other Proceran institution. Would she need to purge them as well?


    Esme¡¯s attention wavered while she considered the matter.


    She turned and the alley she was in began to open out. She heard the cries of voices in the distance. It served as additional motivation to run. She sailed past the last empty residence and entered into an open market as she took a right at the next intersection.


    Large crowds thronged between stalls. Louis called out, but none listened over the cries of the merchants hawking their wares. Esme let out a sigh of relief as she lost herself in the crowd.


    Safe.


    She was safe.


    <hr>


    Esme felt like the bilge of an aged ship that had not been properly maintained. Dirty, crusted, coated in barnacles.


    Three days had passed since the Circle of Thorns had begun haunting her every step.


    Esme had returned to her current abode, only to discover more agents of the enemy skulking outside the door. She had tried to find a new port of call, but every place she considered triggered her caution. A fog of paranoia had slowly crept over her senses, veiling every part of her mind in stark panic.


    One of the members of the Circle of Thorns trailed behind her.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Esme panted as she attempted to put more distance between herself and the devil breathing down her neck. Her nails were chipped, her clothes were filthy. She looked no better than a wild animal.


    Please, please, please allow me to escape.


    Tear stains marked her cheeks, dark rings circled her eyes, her hair was in tatters and blisters punished every step she took. Were it not for the terror she felt, she would have allowed herself to limp.


    Deep, empty sobs wracked her frame.


    The first night she had spent sleeping on the streets huddled beside a flame in the snow had been miserable. A lady of her breeding should not need to subject herself to such indignities. She had swallowed her pride and allowed herself to huddle beside the other street vagrants. At least they had known better than to take advantage of her poor state.


    She was certain that it was only the rapier by had side that had kept the dregs of the street from moving on her.


    Even her dreams were shadowed by monsters as she searched for a route to escape.


    She turned into a narrow alley and let out an undignified grunt as she stumbled into someone unaware. A heartbeat later and her behind was buried in the snow. She looked up, glaring at the broad shouldered blond above her.


    ¡°It appears as if fortune favours us. I suspect that we have stumbled into our fox, Blaise,¡± the man above her said. His wide chin turned to the right as he addressed another figure.


    Appearance ¡ª Blaise: Almost all exposed skin shows signs of scarring. Young, no older than twenty summers. Scars appear to be the work of a sword. Suggests extensive combat experience. Pale skin ¡ª either burns or does not spend much time outdoors. Bulging muscles ¡ª hard physical labour. Attire ¡ª stark white robes. Unfashionable.


    Behaviour ¡ª Blaise: Hand ready to draw, eyes narrowed in focus on Esme. No, focused on the figure beyond Esme.


    Word Choice and Behaviour ¡ª Unknown: ¡°our fox,¡± glances towards Esme. Implies that they were searching for Esme. Tone of voice amused.


    Speculation: Robes chosen for practicality and not appearance. Skilled duellist. Scarring is from repeated spars indoors. Son of a rich merchant or a member of the nobility, the latter is more probable. Searching for Esme. Not hostile.


    ¡°Quite right-right, Michel.¡± The pale, amber eyed mountain of muscle stammered out a reply.


    Vocalization ¡ª Blaise: Stutter is not intentional. Speech defect.


    Esme breathed in and out, calming her racing heart.


    ¡°She matches the description our client gave us of the girl we were hired to locate.¡±


    Word Choice ¡ª Michel: locate, not capture or kill.


    Speculation: Evidence suggests someone wants to speak with Esme, but does not want Esme harmed.


    ¡°Would you two gentlemen mind leaving me alone with my dear friend Adele de Anouilh? She and I have some outstanding business to conclude.¡± Louis de Sartrons inquired.


    The devil who had made her every waking moment a misery turned up once more. Esme¡¯s eyes darted from one figure to another, her broken nails scored marks into her otherwise filthy palms.


    He kept the tone of his voice light. Esme was not fooled. Anger roiled within her as the trappings of her old life were called upon through the mention of her discarded name.


    Behaviour ¡ª Louis de Sartrons: Eyes move between their hands and their face. Hand on weapon, prepared to draw. Muscles taut.


    Speculation: Recognizes both individuals. Wary of them. Does not believe he can match them in a fight.


    ¡°I would rather not be left alone with him,¡± she rasped. ¡°I fear for my own safety.¡±


    Michel stretched a hand towards her and gave her an open smile. She took it and hoisted herself up, grateful for the assistance. It was a pity that only the nobility maintained proper decorum. They were flawed in every other perceptible way.


    ¡°Our apologies, good sir, but we will have to deny your request,¡± Michel shook his head.


    ¡°The lady-lady has given her opinion on the matter.¡± Blaise added.


    Esme¡¯s eyebrows rose. It was uncanny how the two duellists appeared to be completing each other¡¯s thoughts.


    ¡°I am afraid that I am going to have to insist,¡± the walking corpse replied, smiling affably at the duellists. He reached into his jacket and withdrew a badge with the symbol of the Circle of Thorns on it. ¡°This is a matter of foreign security.¡±


    Four more men stepped out of the shadows and stood behind the sea snake.


    The two duellists stepped to one side, placing themselves upwind of where she currently stood. She could not blame them, although the reaction stung.


    Behaviour ¡ª Mob: All of them are prepared to draw blades. Combat ready. Extensive experience with killing. Wariness despite their numerical advantage.


    Speculation: The two men are superior fighters. Can win if the situation devolves into a fight. Unlikely to fight with the Circle of Thorns.


    Esme could feel the noose slipping around her neck.


    ¡°It appears you have business with the lady after all,¡± Michel began.


    ¡°This falls outside-outside of our client¡¯s request.¡± Blaise finished.


    Hands clammy, throat tightening as her thoughts steered towards the reef, and her breath quickened, Esme tried to find an out. She was certain that the two duellists offered her a method of escape, if only she could find a safe passage to sail between the rocks.


    She reached out, but grasped at smoke.


    Esme was exhausted. The last of her strength had long since sunk to the bottom of the ocean. She knew that if she were more alert she could find an out, but in her current state it was an effort to Connect the clues.


    Connect ¡ª Louis de Sartrons: Evidence suggests he desires Esme¡¯s capture and not death. Motives unknown. Suspect it¡¯s related to family.


    Connect ¡ª Duellists: Circle of Thorns are cautious of them. Implies an exceptional level of skill. Not cheap to hire. Strong emphasis was placed on keeping Esme unharmed. It is plausible the employer can afford to offend the Circle of Thorns.


    Unharmed. There lay the key to her escape. She did not know if the mysterious employer was any less dangerous to her than the man who had pursued her, but the rumours surrounding the Circle of Thorns charted the course that Esme intended to follow. She would rather trust her safety to strangers than with the organization rumoured to make problems disappear.


    Esme licked her lips.


    ¡°Your employer has no wish for me to perish, which is what will occur if you were to leave me in this man¡¯s care.¡±


    ¡°What do you think-think, Michel?¡±


    ¡°Our client insisted that she remain unharmed.¡±


    ¡°This is all a bit off-off the beaten path.¡±


    ¡°She insisted that we were not to talk to you at all.¡±


    ¡°S-She cautioned-cautioned that your words were poisonous.¡±


    ¡°I give my word that I have no fell intentions towards Adele de Anouilh at this time.¡±


    Behaviour ¡ª Duellists: Shared current of thought. Easy to extrapolate.


    Word Choice ¡ª Louis de Sartrons: at this time ¡ª phrasing is deliberate. Leaves open the possibility of harm at a later date.


    Speculation: Duellists talking themselves into leaving Esme to the Circle of Thorns.


    ¡°I am not prepared to trust my own safety to an oath vaguer than maps of the eastern ocean. If you do not wish to fail at your commission, then I suggest that you deliver me to your employer. There is nothing preventing me from conversing with Louis de Sartrons at another time.¡±


    ¡°You-you know, Michel, the girl raises a fair argument.¡±


    ¡°An argument that neither of us can find fault with.¡±


    ¡°This falls outside our-our commission.¡±


    ¡°But we have already gone beyond the call of duty.¡±


    ¡°Then we will follow and speak with dear Adele once her business with your employer concludes,¡± Louis de Sartrons smiled like a shark during a feeding frenzy.


    The two duellists turned towards each other. A dozen heartbeats passed where no heartbeats were said. An unspoken agreement appeared to have been reached, since they both nodded to each other not long after.


    ¡°This compromise is acceptable.¡± They both declared at the same turn of the tide. There was an awkward pause as Blaise stuttered partway through their performance.


    Esme felt as if a hole had been bored into the side of her ship and water was flowing in. How much longer, she wondered, until she finally sunk.


    The duellists led the way towards the kind of establishment Esme would never frequent herself. She was prepared to tolerate the wooden board outside the entrance with a carving of a snake slithering into a cave. However, the imagery on the banners ventured beyond the suggestive into the obscene.


    ¡°Are you certain that your employer resides here?¡±


    ¡°We-we are indeed at the correct location.¡±


    ¡°Our boss is not one for putting on airs.¡±


    Esme¡¯s eyebrows scraped the ceiling when the duellists confirmed that the courtesan¡¯s house was indeed the correct destination.


    She swallowed her pride.


    Finding refuge in a brothel would still be better than another night spent out in the cold. Besides, the odds were longer should Esme refuse the opportunity before her. Esme¡¯s eyes bored holes in the ceiling as she was escorted towards the second floor. She was not prepared to taint her memories with the indiscretions of those in attendance. While such behaviour had been commonplace on the journeys she had undertaken, she had ensured to remain out of sight and uninvolved. Bedroom acts belonged behind closed doors.


    Discomfort gnawed its way through Esme¡¯s gut. It took her a scant few moments to realize, but her unease came from more than just the indecorous behaviour she had witnessed on the lower floor. Esme felt spiritually unclean, as if she was not deserving of setting foot within the confines of these walls. The very thought was ridiculous, but it led her to examine her thoughts in more detail.


    Emotions ¡ª Esme: Not natural, influence imposed from the outside. Suspected wizard or priest.


    Esme¡¯s hackles rose. Had she fled from one foe only to land in the lair of another? The Circle of Thorns had hunted her as if she was nothing more than a wild beast, but it appeared as if she was entering the abode of one of her sworn foes.


    The duellists led the way towards one of the suites and rapped thrice against the door.


    Louis de Sartrons trailed behind her like the portent of doom that he was. His cohort chose to remain downstairs.


    A red haired woman stepped into the hallway. She was clad in a rag so offensive to Esme¡¯s sense of taste that she was not even prepared to allow her servants to repurpose it as a dish cloth.


    To Esme¡¯s dismay, it was still in a better state than the woollen rags that she currently possessed.


    Hands on hips, eyes narrowed, the walking wardrobe blasphemy addressed Esme¡¯s guides. ¡°When I paid the two of you to find our troublemaker, I happened to lay down a few rules. What were they?¡±


    ¡°You instructed us not to engage with her and only to locate her.¡±


    ¡°That-that we should not come under her scrutiny and sh-should not converse with her.¡±


    ¡°That she was not to be invited to this place.¡±


    ¡°But-but considering-¡±


    The two duellists continued to lay out the extensive list of rules their employer had set. Rules which they had summarily ignored. Esme felt sympathy for the woman, even as she watched her ship veer further off course with each rule that was explained.


    The woman knew far too much about what Esme was capable of.


    ¡°Who is it, Song?¡± a voice called out.


    ¡°Y¡¯know how y¡¯told me not to bring your fox here?¡±


    Esme¡¯s eyebrows scraped the sky as the woman¡¯s behaviour transformed from one moment to the next.


    Behaviour ¡ª Song: Shoulders loosened, hands opened, eyes softened. Other rapid changes in posture, her speech impediment is affected.


    All of this woman¡¯s behaviour was an act. Her brown eyes twinkled knowingly as she examined Esme like a bird that had caught a worm. If Esme was not already emotionally wrung out, her mouth would now have run dry.


    ¡°She¡¯s here anyway?¡± the voice replied in anger.


    ¡°She is. Y¡¯know, she looks kinda pitiful like this. I¡¯ve seen less miserable kicked puppies. Y¡¯sure she¡¯s dangerous?¡±


    The sound of footfalls approaching heralded the arrival of the unknown host. The feeling of discomfort grew. The harsh corona surrounding the walking candlestick was the first detail that Esme took note of.


    Appearance ¡ª stranger: Dark hair, too wide jaw, tall, young. Late teens. White robes, robes non-standard for a priestess. No visible signs of damage, unnaturally clean, four badges on one side, one on the other.


    Behaviour ¡ª stranger: Clenching of fists, measured breathing. Upset, doing her best to mask it. Creases in clothing are anomalous. It appears as if something imperceptible is hugging her. Stranger¡¯s movement is unimpeded by the anomaly, she considers it normal.


    Speculation: Stranger matches the description of the hero of compassion.


    At long last, a priestess who upheld the beliefs she claimed to have. Unlike Esme, there was also little doubt she was a hero. It made her an effective shield against the corrupt clergy, the hostile elements of the law, and the nobility.


    While Esme doubted there was much the girl could do to aid her ¡ª those who followed Compassion were known to be an ineffectual lot ¡ª she was also not one who would ever wish Esme or her brother harm. It was a pity that she would be no more use than as a shield from unearned consequences, but Esme had always been aware that there would not be many she could rely upon.


    The burden of avenging her brother ¡ª of exacting justice upon all who had wronged her ¡ª was hers alone.


    The teen looked at Esme for the span of a few heartbeats. Her gaze softened, the fight seemed to drain out of her.


    Behaviour ¡ª stranger: Working herself up to doing something that makes her uncomfortable. Unhappy with her decision. Believes it to be the correct one.


    Before Esme knew it, she had been swept up in a hug. It was most improper.


    Esme flinched.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± the teen whispered.


    Why was Esme crying?


    Why was the hero so uncomfortable to be around?


    Esme was a hero as well¡­


    Wasn¡¯t she?

 Concord 5.06

    ¡°Now, now, don¡¯t complain. I told you to trust me but didn¡¯t specify what with. It¡¯s not my fault you didn¡¯t ask if I was about to throw you off the tower.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Perfidious


    <hr>


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I whispered.


    I was unhappy.


    If I was a dragon, smoke would have been trailing from my snout.


    If I was only furious, then my life would have been easier.


    Instead, I found myself sifting through a soup of emotions. Anger, pity, sympathy, compassion.


    Escape. Everyone is against me. The world hates me. There is nobody I can trust, nobody I can turn to for assistance.


    The girl let out another heaving sob into my robe even as she shied away from me. It was uncomfortable, but I¡¯d put up with worse.


    One look at her had been enough to disabuse me of the idea that she was anything like Lisa was. It wasn¡¯t just her appearance that was different. I couldn¡¯t imagine Lisa harbouring such dark dreams.


    Her dreams were a dark maze of misery. A story of one girl against the world, where every shadow was the enemy and nobody could be trusted. I still wanted my pound of flesh, but claiming it would have to wait.


    She¡­ needed somebody in her corner first.


    Even if I hated the fact that it would probably have to be me. This was what I had agreed to do when I had declared myself a priestess. I was the one who was going to care for those that nobody else was prepared to be responsible for.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s going to be fine,¡± I whispered.


    I let go of the filthy girl. She smelled like rotten eggs, old fish and a whole host of other pungent scents. She stood back up at her full height, the top of her head came up to my nose and her hair was a mess of matted black strands. Her clothes were torn, and I doubted she¡¯d washed in days. She tried to affect a regal air, but in her current state was unable to pull it off.


    I wasn¡¯t sure which of the two of us had found the hug more uncomfortable.


    Vengeance. Mine and mine alone. Nobody else can be trusted to dole it out. Justice for me and my brother.


    ¡°How did she end up like this?¡± I demanded. ¡°I asked you to find her, not run her down like an animal.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not my fault,¡± Songbird protested vehemently, raising her palms in supplication. ¡°I didn¡¯t order this!¡±


    Deep breaths. Don¡¯t judge yet. Find out what happened first.


    I turned towards two of the men standing outside the doorway. The dark haired, amber eyed one on the left towered over me with broad shoulders and muscles that I could curl up in. He had a pale bearded face criss-crossed with many scars that leant him a sort of rugged, handsome look that he otherwise would not possess.


    Songbird snickered in the background.


    The one on the right was shorter, with blonde hair and green eyes. Both of them were dressed for combat and looked vaguely familiar.


    ¡°Who are they?¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not sure who the third guy is,¡± she pointed towards the third man ¡ª a balding skeleton who looked to be in his fifties. ¡°But I hired those two to find her. They were prob¡¯ly the best of the lot. Nine-sun duellists, the both of them. Cheapest too. When I mentioned who they¡¯d be helping, they jumped at the opportunity.¡±


    Ah, I remember now.


    ¡°Explain.¡±


    They looked at each other like two naughty children caught stealing sweets, then turned their attention back to me.


    ¡°Your assistant requested for us to locate the girl but not engage with her,¡± the handsome one said.


    ¡°Sh-she ran into Michel while we-we embarked upon our search,¡± the one on the right continued.


    ¡°And we beheld her as dishevelled as she appears to be at present,¡± Michel added.


    ¡°Sh-she ran as i-if a dragon was trailing her at the time,¡± the other one finished.


    ¡°So you brought her here?¡± I pinched my nose. In part because of exasperation, in part because of the smell.


    ¡°The two of them rescued me from the stormy seas of fate. I would surely have perished were it not for their timely intervention. That villain is responsible for the state which I find myself in,¡± she pointed towards the skeleton in the black coat.


    Michel lifted a finger and was about to open his mouth to reply, when the skeleton of a man cleared his throat.


    ¡°Fair tidings, Chosen. I, too, have business with our mutual acquaintance Adele de Anouilh,¡± he gestured towards the girl with his left gauntlet.


    A faceless head, decapitated, lying atop a stack of books.


    His dream made my skin crawl. Not because he wanted someone dead ¡ª there were plenty of people who wanted that ¡ª or because of the additional odd details, but because of how stripped of emotion it was. Everyone I had met to some degree or another felt something about their dreams. The Bard was like a raging inferno, Laurence was like a clear blue pond of clarity, Yvette was like a cosy, warm, fire.


    This man¡¯s dream was cold, clinical. It was almost as if he went through the motions of having a dream, because he believed that he should have one. I wasn¡¯t sure what it meant, but it made me feel uncomfortable.


    The Angels felt more human than his dream.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°My name is Louis de Sartrons and I come representing the Circle of Thorns. Ad-¡±


    The two duellists withdrew as the man continued to speak. They didn¡¯t leave my view entirely, but their actions made it clear they were removing themselves from the conversation.


    ¡°You should not trust a word out of this ruffian¡¯s mouth. The man intends for me to disappear. Furthermore, I have renounced my family name. I am Esme, not Adele de Anouilh,¡± the pitch of her voice rose as she gained momentum. By the end of her speech, she almost sounded haughty.


    I didn¡¯t know anything about the Circle of Thorns, but I did know who might.


    I turned towards Songbird. The pest was grinning like a loon while examining her nails.


    ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s prob¡¯ly the real deal. Circle of Thorns investigates foreign espionage. Means your friend here is in lotsa trouble.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on ma I heard a lot of noise I-¡± Yvette¡¯s voice cut off, she breathed in, then tried again. ¡°What¡¯s going on, ma? I heard a lot of noise. Is everything fine?¡±


    ¡°Everything is fine, Yvie, but I want you to stay in the parlour. No coming out, okay?¡±


    I didn¡¯t want her and Esme to meet again any time soon.


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ve made some progress on a design for my combined spell focus, but I can¡¯t do much until I get my things back. I hope that you manage to catch the thief soon.¡± Her voice faded as she moved deeper into her room.


    My eyes fell on the thief in question. I nodded my head at her slowly. A few moments later, and the only colour remaining in her cheeks was from the accumulated grime.


    ¡°You¡¯re not planning to kill her?¡± I asked the man.


    The man unnerved me. Maybe I was being unfair by assuming the worst of him, but a voice at the back of my mind was shouting at me that he wouldn¡¯t hesitate to torture someone to get what he desired. It didn¡¯t help his case that the victim in question was accusing him of running her down like an animal.


    ¡°I assure you that the Circle of Thorns is investigating her family¡¯s business agreements and has no interest in holding her in any way accountable for anything at this moment in time.¡±


    I bit my lower lip. It sounded all above board.


    ¡°Y¡¯know,¡± Songbird intervened, ¡°I like that phrasing. ¡®At this time,¡¯ it leaves the future open to interpretation.¡±


    ¡°Your uncultured ruffian¡¯s assessment of his intent is correct.¡± Esme sniffed, folding her arms.


    ¡°Hey, I assure you m¡¯plenty cultured. Why don¡¯t the two of us take a trip downstairs and I can introduce you to all the culture y¡¯don¡¯t know about.¡± Songbird teased, making a rude gesture.


    ¡°Well, I never-¡± Esme started to huff once more.


    I would be regretting placing myself in the middle of this if it weren¡¯t for the severity of the situation.


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    ¡°Enough. Right, I¡¯m not turning her,¡± I pointed at Esme, ¡°over to you,¡± I pointed at Louis de Sartrons.


    ¡°I would advise you against this course of action. You are interfering in a matter involving the security of the crown.¡±


    ¡°You can ask your questions of her with me in the room,¡± I replied. I turned my eyes back to Esme. ¡°And I want my daughter¡¯s belongings back.¡±


    ¡°The little arsonist responsible for torching a city is your daughter?¡± heat injected its way into Esme¡¯s voice. ¡°And to think, I believed heroes to hold themselves above-¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± I shouted over her. ¡°She¡¯s thirteen. She miscast a spell and people died during a revolution in Aisne. Blood was running down the streets, everyone was killing everyone else. There were no innocents that day. Furthermore, she did not burn down a city. She created an illusion of a fire, then a bunch of arsonists went and set the real thing.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it convenient that one such as yourself exists to excuse the crimes of others? None face the justice they-¡± Esme began to retort.


    I¡¯ve had enough of this.


    ¡°What do you think you know? You¡¯re a-¡± I felt the Angels tug at me in warning. I cut off the rest of my rant.


    Spoiled rich girl, who¡¯s lived her entire life in a fancy house and only just recently needed to spend some time on the streets. I can see your dreams. Those little lies you tell in order to make yourself feel better. Who are you to judge the crimes of a thirteen-year-old when you plot murder every day on your own?


    I glowered at her, then breathed in and breathed out, allowing the red fog to fall away from my eyes.


    Dealing with Esme was going to be so much more challenging than I expected.


    ¡°Y¡¯know Esme, I¡¯d suggest you work hard on making a better first impression. She¡¯s the only person alive who cares about you at all.¡± Songbird looked meaningfully towards Louis de Sartrons and mimed cutting her throat.


    The man looked faintly amused.


    ¡°I am not opposed to your presence Chosen while we conduct our interrogation. I assure you that not one hair on her head shall be plucked, so long as you wish her to remain unharmed.¡±


    Songbird let out another choked snort. I was less amused. The implied threat didn¡¯t sit well with me.


    ¡°Is there any other reason for you to be here?¡± I raised an eyebrow at the man.


    He creeped me out, and I did not want him to be around for much longer.


    ¡°He¡¯s the one in possession of your daughter¡¯s equipment. He stole the pouch from me while I was attempting to escape pursuit.¡±


    ¡°That pouch full of oddities?¡± The man folded his arms. An amused smirk stole its way across his face. ¡°Dear Esme, may I remind you that you dropped those baubles of your own volition, and they were not yours to begin with?¡±


    ¡°I want those all back,¡± I demanded.


    ¡°The Circle of Thorns has no issues with returning your material possessions to you. They do not concern us.¡±


    An ugly suspicion wormed its way into my head.


    I didn¡¯t know if they had any sorcerers among them, but it would make sense if they did. They would have certainly found Yvette¡¯s notes interesting if they had looked them over, and there was little preventing them from making duplicates. The problem was if they weren¡¯t in the process of doing as much already, then by warning them not to do so, I¡¯d be as good as informing them there was something that they would find intriguing.


    I wasn¡¯t sure whether I should risk warning them off the notes or not. The less copies of her notes that existed, the less likely it was that they would fall into the hands of Praes.


    Ask Songbird about it later.


    ¡°Where do you want to interrogate her? I¡¯m dealing with my own problems at the moment, and I¡¯m not about to allow you to make use of my own space.¡±


    ¡°Two of my agents will remain downstairs. Your resourceful friend,¡± he tipped his head towards Songbird, ¡°should be able to recognize them. Inform them when you have finished putting your own house in order, and we can arrange a date.¡± He paused, his lips curled up in distaste, ¡°I advise you not to spend too long deliberating. Your daughter¡¯s possessions will be returned during the interrogation. I bid all of you farewell.¡±


    Louis de Sartrons bowed, then left. His boots echoed as he made his way down the wooden stairs.


    I turned my attention towards the two duellists. They were lingering in the shadows outside the room.


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you two left?¡±


    ¡°Well, your compatriot hired me and Blaise on the condition that we could converse with you.¡±


    The two of them both ambled back into the open doorway. Blaise had his arms crossed, Michel had his hand on his sword. The action did not look threatening, more like a matter of habit.


    ¡°Sh-she told us-s that you maintain an am-amicable relationship with the S-saint of Swords.¡±


    I¡¯d assumed that Blaise¡¯s stutter had been because of fear. It didn¡¯t really matter that he had a speech impediment, but I did feel some sympathy regardless.


    ¡°As if this dunce who abhors violence maintains a cordial relationship with one of the finest heroes of the age,¡± Esme interjected.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you¡¯re gonna keep doing your best to make friends with everyone, Esme?¡± Everyone except Songbird ignored her.


    ¡°I know Laurence.¡±


    ¡°The two of us wished to join your service as long term retainers.¡±


    ¡°At l-least until w-we have h-had the opportunity to cross blades with her in a friendly spar.¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t much that¡¯s friendly about Laurence,¡± I informed them.


    It didn¡¯t feel good to let them down. Both of them seemed nice, even if it appeared that they had a habit of not thinking things through.


    ¡°Her disposition does nothing to temper our ambitions.¡± Michel replied.


    ¡°I-it¡¯s an op-opportunity for us to hone our skills.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, y¡¯should let them come with. You¡¯ll need plenty of assistants if your schemes bear fruit.¡±


    ¡°At least the two of them know how to properly comport themselves.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need bodyguards.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not about what you need, it¡¯s about what people expect. If y¡¯want to involve yourself in politics, then you need to look the part.¡±


    Should I protest this? No. Songbird was right. I was going to need an entire administration staff for what I wanted to have done. A personal retinue was almost a given somewhere within that. There was no way I was prepared to manage anything larger than a small group if I was going to protest having an armed guard.


    I wasn¡¯t even opposed to them joining my retinue on principle.


    My only issue was that Songbird had sprung this on me suddenly without asking for my input first. But¡­ I knew that the larger the scope of my ambitions became, the more I would need to delegate and the less personal oversight I would be able to provide. It just surprised me that we had reached this point so soon.


    ¡°Fine. Since you started this mess, Songbird, you handle it.¡±


    Songbird¡¯s eyes looked from me to Esme, then she gave me a subtle nod. She started to retreat downstairs. The two of them shuffled behind her.


    I turned to face Esme. It was just the two of us in the corridor now, everyone else was gone. She mustered up a haughty expression as if she intended to argue with me. I wasn¡¯t prepared for it to go that far.


    I¡¯d much rather be helping Roland break into the Starlit Cloister right now than be dealing with this.


    What was the best way to approach this? I wasn¡¯t going to call her stupid ¡ª even if I was thinking something along those lines ¡ª Lisa had hated it, and I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Esme did as well. Not that many people liked being called stupid, but¡­ it was probably a sensitive point for her.


    How about I disarm her? Yes, that would work. Stick to the truth and nothing but it. Tell her all the secrets I hold that most people are afraid of her learning about, so that she can¡¯t use them against me.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid of you traumatizing my friends and family,¡± I admitted. ¡°I want to have a stable relationship with someone, but I¡¯m afraid to commit to one because I know that I¡¯ll outlive whoever I have one with. The thought that I will live for potentially thousands of years and everyone that I care about will die before me scares me. I have a few other minor fears and doubts, but none of them matter to me more than those.¡±


    Esme¡¯s face became slack. Whatever she had been expecting me to say, that had not been it.


    ¡°What motivated you to seek me out?¡±


    ¡°I know your story. I know your Name and Role better than anyone else. It was the story of the best friend I once had in a different land many years ago. Songbird tried to set up the next part of your story to find you. Something went wrong along the way ¡ª I don¡¯t even know what story you got caught in ¡ª and now we¡¯re all here. You¡¯re a villain. I know that you¡¯re a villain. I¡¯m offering you a chance at redemption. Trust me. I know it will be hard, but it¡¯s worth it.¡±


    ¡°Your inability to recognize a fellow hero only proves your ineptitude. It is pitiful to see you project the feelings your friend once evoked in you onto another,¡± she sneered.


    Well, doesn¡¯t she have a stick up her asshole. I¡¯ve spent the past few days comforting my daughter because of the trouble you caused, and then you come in here high and mighty acting like this.


    ¡°There are going to be rules if you want to have my protection,¡± I raised my right hand, palm facing towards her. What little sympathy I had, had more or less evaporated once more.


    ¡°I seek to right the injustices in the world,¡± she started to pace in front of me between the door into our suite and the entrance to my room.


    Yeah, yeah, keep bitching. You¡¯re just a worse behaved kid than Yvette. She¡¯s an angel in comparison. I¡¯m blaming bad parenting.


    ¡°The first is no murder, assault of both the physical and verbal variety, rape or torture,¡± I raised my index finger.


    ¡°Those who brought suffering unto me and mine shall reap what they have sown in turn,¡± her tone of voice raised.


    It sounded more like she was trying to convince herself, then that she was trying to convince me of anything.


    ¡°The second is that you say nothing offensive to any of the people I care about, and that you keep away from my daughter,¡± I raised my middle finger.


    ¡°You shelter murderers in your shadow for no reason beyond misplaced love,¡± she shook her fist. I suspected it was supposed to look dramatic, but I was not impressed.


    You¡¯re no Black Knight, Warlock or even Revolutionary. You have conviction and nothing else. Even Songbird is scarier than you are, and Lisa would eat you for breakfast.


    ¡°The third rule is to follow orders when they are given. I don¡¯t give them often, but if they do, it''s to help you stay alive,¡± came the ring finger.


    ¡°You are no better than the other so-called righteous hiding away in the church,¡± she had stopped pacing and was glaring at me, her arms crossed sullenly.


    I thought kids outgrew temper tantrums long before her age. What is she, sixteen to twenty? It¡¯s hard to tell through all the dirt.


    ¡°The fourth rule is that we have secrets which I know you will learn through your Sin, and you will keep them. It¡¯s futile trying to hide them from you, but you won¡¯t be sharing them,¡± up came the pinky.


    ¡°What right do you have to deny me my vengeance?¡±


    I hope the hero with Martin Luther¡¯s story is not equally pathetic. I¡¯m finding it really hard to care, despite knowing what she¡¯s suffered through.


    ¡°The fifth rule is that we are all polite to each other and help each other out. You will be doing your fair share, just like everyone else,¡± up came the thumb.


    ¡°You expect me to perform manual labour?¡± she shrieked.


    Out of everything I said, that was what got through to you?


    ¡°The door is downstairs if you aren¡¯t prepared to follow my rules. Feel free to leave. Redemption means trying to be better. It means effort on your part, not mine. I¡¯ll listen to your worries, I¡¯ll offer advice, and in some cases I¡¯ll even try to help if you want it.¡±


    But I¡¯m not a babysitter, I¡¯m a priest.


    She continued to rant a little longer, but she eventually agreed to my rules. I wasn¡¯t surprised. Considering her rampant paranoia, I was her best hope.


    Now I just needed to convince myself that this was a better decision than simply throwing her back out onto the streets.

 Concord 5.0d

    ¡°They¡¯ll never see me coming.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Empress Sinistra IV, the Erroneous


    <hr>


    Taylor had once told Roland that the swiftest path to passing the threshold of a building you do not belong inside without inviting retaliation was by presenting the appearance that you were no different from the residents.


    He followed the winding path towards the Starlit Cloister. The white robes of the clergy would be comfortable ¡ª albeit plain ¡ª were it not for the coat he had stowed away beneath them. They presented an austere outer front to the world that did not match the mask Roland wished to wear.


    He passed the imposing fortifications leading up to the walls, the gardens lit by moonlight, and scaled the staircase to the doors.


    Roland¡¯s initial foray into the Starlit Cloister was for the purposes of reconnaissance. While he would attempt to find the records Taylor desired, it was unlikely that his attempt would yield results. It was almost impossible to discover more about the complex¡¯s interior without being invited into it. The building was closed to all but the faithful and a select few others. The priests he had conversed with had clammed up when Roland asked about what lay within.


    Not once did any of the guards question his presence as he ascended the stairs.


    The doors at the top remained barred to him.


    ¡°Sister Dominique sent me to deliver a message to Sister Adelie,¡± he lied, proffering false documents towards the silent guardsmen.


    The indolent guard that took the documents did not even pretend to examine them before he gestured towards his companion. The two of them began to open the door.


    Roland moved to enter the Starlit Cloister when the shorter guard with raven-black hair blocked his path with an arm. The man gestured that Roland should follow behind him.


    It appears that they have some measure of security after all.


    Roland fell into step with the man, all the while he plotted how to lose his attendant. The guard took a passage to the right, passed an enclosed quadrangle and into a series of administration buildings. They turned once more and entered an otherwise deserted corridor beside an indoor garden.


    Roland ¡°tripped,¡± falling to the floor before the guard. The man reached down to help Roland to his feet. Roland ignored the offer for assistance for a moment and used the excuse of injury to brush his fingers against the bangle set with garnets on one of his legs through the robe.


    The rune triggered.


    Roland reached for the proffered hand and accepted it. A calming energy seeped from his palm into the palm of the guard. The man fell to the ground as a lassitude stole over him.


    The sands of the hourglass had begun to fall.


    Roland dragged the man behind a bush and lost the false documents that he no longer had any purpose for. This would serve to hide his deeds until the man finally woke up.


    He stepped away and began to prowl the Starlit Cloister.


    None questioned the presence of just another priest wandering the halls, provided he walked as if he had a destination in mind.


    He withdrew trinkets as necessary from his coat in his effort to uncover the documents Taylor required. Locks were shattered, buildings were searched, and the Starlit Cloister was gradually mapped out. The further Roland explored, the less confident he was that he could find what she sought.


    The building was a maze of stone that had grown over centuries. It would take weeks to find the correct room in the current circumstances. The window of time he had to investigate the Starlit Cloister was much too brief without information that he did not possess.


    Less than an hour later and a bell tolled. Roland did not know what the bell indicated, but from the alert expressions of a priest he passed he could guess that his deception had been found.


    His first foray within the Starlit Cloister was coming to an end.


    Roland followed a small gathering of priests up a flight of stairs onto the second floor until he found a passage that branched off into an empty chamber. He stepped off the beaten path into the room, slipped out of the robes and into his normal regalia.


    He left the domed chamber not long after slipping on his final ring. There would be no doubt in the mind of a priest that he was the invader if any saw him now, but trickery could not take him much further.


    It was time for subterfuge of a different sort.


    One of the priests noticed him and called out. He broke into a sprint. A silent guard loosed an arrow. It struck against a pillar just shy of his head. Roland suppressed the urge to yelp. His irises shaded green as he focused on one of his rings. A wall of vines began to expand behind him, sealing his assailant away.


    Roland passed through several corridors as he made his bid to escape.


    He ducked the throw of a knife, responded by collapsing the roof, and at last found what he was searching for. An open terrace looking down upon a garden below. He passed through the gilded doorway, reached into his coat and brushed his thumb against the containment rune. A rod materialized in his waiting palm.


    Roland aimed, focused, and released.


    A wave of flames cascaded into the garden below.


    The flames took.


    The frenetic echo of his boots began once more as he initiated the final stage of his escape. It was not long until loud cries echoed throughout the passages, warning others of the growing inferno.


    Roland found another terrace ¡ª this one facing outwards towards the walls ¡ª and materialized a rope. He tied it to one of the gargoyles leaning over the walls, then lowered himself onto the ground below.


    Roland sprinted towards one of the large, bulky staircases leading up onto the outer walls. While he would have preferred to leave through the tower gates, he was wagering they had already been closed. It was best for him to escape using less guarded means.


    He had almost finished ascending the stairs when one of the silent guards moved to block his escape. Grimacing, he summoned an ash wand to his hand and fired a beam of force at the man¡¯s leg. There was a crunch as the man screamed and collapsed to the floor.


    Taylor would not be pleased with him were he to kill any of the cloister¡¯s residents. Even injuring the man like this was likely to earn her ire. It was an unfortunate necessity, but Roland was certain the priests would be capable of healing.


    He reached the edge of the wall, manifested another rope and started to descend.


    Another guard reached the rope and started to untie it from the crenelations. The woman was too late. Roland was already at the base of the walls by the time the guard had arrived and was already making his escape.


    <hr>


    ¡°Esme has the necessary talents to obtain the evidence Taylor requires,¡± Songbird stated once more.


    Taylor had been convinced by Songbird¡¯s arguments in the girl¡¯s favour. She believed that Esme was certain to knife them in the back if they refused to extend the girl any trust. The argument held weight on the balance, but Roland remained wary.


    ¡°I¡¯m not certain that this course of action is wise,¡± Roland warned.


    ¡°I¡¯m aware that there are perils to this scheme,¡± she replied.


    The two of them were nestled in the corner of the parlour. They stood beside the shutters. The dark of pre-dawn Salia could barely be perceived through the gaps. They talked in hushed tones. The others had yet to wake up.


    ¡°Allowing Esme to participate in this mission is far more than a mere risk.¡± Roland rested a firm hand against the loose white shift covering Songbird¡¯s left shoulder and looked up into her eyes.


    Such behaviour would be considered improper on his part in most circumstances, but it was imperative that she consider the perils involved in the scheme she proposed.


    ¡°She won¡¯t sabotage our plans.¡± Songbird¡¯s lips settled into a crescent moon as she finished speaking.


    Roland assumed that the hint of a smile was meant to be reassuring. After observing her mien shift at the drop of a coin on many occasions, it did nothing to allay his fears.


    ¡°You have said as much before. I remain unconvinced.¡± He stepped back ¡ª his feet sinking into the gorgeous madder red carpet ¡ª and resisted the urge to scratch at an itch behind his ear.


    ¡°She has too much riding on this to risk it.¡±


    The muffled creaking of a door could be heard from behind him.


    ¡°What if she finds safety among others? We are her refuge of circumstance, not her home of choice.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that she will haunt our presence for long. It would surprise me if she fails to find a new benefactor before we achieve our goal.¡±


    ¡°And yet you would bare our necks to her?¡±


    ¡°Esme can be expected to act as her nature dictates. She considers both the House of Light and the Nobility to be her sworn enemies. Her assistance will also be invaluable in narrowing down the location of the accounts Taylor requires.¡±


    ¡°I can find records of their guilt if I am given sufficient time.¡±


    ¡°How long would it take you to map out the Starlit Cloister while hiding from the priests?¡±


    Roland did not answer.


    While he had succeeded in bypassing the walls on one further occasion, it was true that Roland had failed to make any headway in his attempts to unearth the accounts in the Starlit Cloister. The defences would become tighter with each additional attempt that he had made. He might have already succeeded were the place any smaller.


    Instead, the home of the Holies was akin to a fortress. He would require far too many attempts for it to be feasible to properly canvas the complex without a guide. Songbird had been surprisingly nonplussed by that revelation. She had acceded to his request without complaint and asked Taylor to petition for a tour of the Starlit Cloister, even if the need to do so had entangled the story that Songbird had woven.


    ¡°I dislike the shape of it.¡± Roland gave in and attended to the itch on the back of his neck.


    ¡°Consider her to be an ally of circumstance in our current endeavours. For her to betray us is to betray herself.¡±


    ¡°And what of all the secrets that she comes to possess?¡±


    ¡°Taylor desires for only the least of what she has shared with us to be kept in confidence.¡±


    ¡°Taylor also expects us to question her judgement.¡±


    ¡°The changes she has wrought have far-reaching consequences. While it is often wise to hold a secret close, in times so troubled it is wiser for her to divulge what she knows than to keep it to her chest.¡±


    ¡°A secret cannot be reclaimed once shared.¡±


    ¡°She had clashed-¡± Songbird¡¯s voice cut off, her caramel eyes darting towards the parlour door.


    Roland followed here gaze past the pine green chaise lounge beside them and the leather couches beyond it. His eyes fell on the amaranth door as it creaked open.


    The brilliant white aura that suffused the room with a pleasant warmth was the first sign of who was entering the room. Taylor¡¯s steps were firm. Where once she had been aimless, every action Taylor undertook now was filled to the brim with purpose. It was one of the many changes she had undertaken that Roland found so alluring.


    She was dressed in a tight woollen shirt and trousers that highlighted her figure. She was tall, strong, her russet eyes were alight with a mesmerizing zeal, and her hair gleamed like the sun.


    Roland drank in the sight of her.


    He had known once he had begun to court her that even should he succeed, her love for him would never surpass her love for the Gods. She had offered up her soul to them, and they had accepted her into their service. Being second love to the divine was acceptable in Roland¡¯s eyes.


    But no, Roland had made one misstep too many.


    He turned his eyes away.


    It left him drowning in bitterness.


    His only consolation was that Michel had no interest in the fairer sex. Taylor had been admiring the duellist in much the same way as Roland had been admiring her. No, it was better for his thoughts to venture into other lands.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake early,¡± she paused, smiled and evaluated the room. ¡°Plotting?¡±


    ¡°Not even a morning greeting? Y¡¯know, someone could get offended.¡± Songbird deflected with her usual grace.


    ¡°Good morning, Song, Roland.¡± Her voice stiffened when she greeted him.


    They had yet to talk about the lapse he had made in his care of Yvette. He had made more than one attempt to broach the subject, but she continued to brush him off.


    ¡°That¡¯s more like it. Y¡¯know, I think you should get changed before your tour.¡±


    ¡°I heard voices. What¡¯s happening?¡± Taylor turned his way.


    Songbird affected an amused grin.


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


    ¡°I was questioning the wisdom of allowing Esme to assist with our heist.¡±


    ¡°This again?¡± she sounded exasperated.


    ¡°Even if Esme was not a villain, she has done nothing to earn any degree of trust.¡±


    If the others would not speak against this decision, then Roland would take the burden of ensuring Esme did not damage their group upon himself. He understood that some flexibility was required when dealing with other Names, but there was a difference between flexibility and the abandoning of caution.


    ¡°Look. I don¡¯t trust her and I don¡¯t like her, but I promised I would try to help her. She needs to feel included. We need to erode her barriers. Digging up dirt on the priests is one of the few things she can be trusted to do. We might as well let go of her if we aren¡¯t prepared to trust her with this.¡±


    ¡°If this is out of a sense of obligation towards the friend you once knew-¡± Roland cut off as Taylor began to speak over him.


    ¡°It¡¯s not. She doesn¡¯t remind me of Lisa at all. I¡¯m helping her because it¡¯s the right thing to do. There¡¯s nothing more to it.¡±


    The argument gained momentum, but there was neither heat nor venom in the words that any of them voiced.


    It amused Roland how firm Taylor had been in refusing to fill the Role of an Angel. She did not appear to understand what it meant that she herself was a minute sliver of divinity granted the gift of awareness. Roland could follow the furrow of Taylor¡¯s thoughts and predict what lay beyond. She would follow the road of redemption until she had reforged herself into a virtue. The motivation the Gods had given her made that outcome assured.


    Taylor would deny it ¡ª she would decry it as either blasphemous or impossible ¡ª but Roland believed that one day ¡ª in an age shrouded by the mists of time ¡ª there would be one more Angel in the heavens above. The first Angel of a new Angelic Choir.


    For was redemption not a virtue on its own?


    <hr>


    Esme¡¯s bare feet were numb from the cold.


    ¡°Remember, ¡°Taylor looked at Roland critically, ¡°No magic. I don¡¯t think it can break my invisibility, but best not risk it.¡±


    Connect ¡ª Roland: Believes Taylor, is not intending to go against orders. Does not like or trust Esme, intends to watch Esme. Believes Esme will betray all of them.


    Connect ¡ª Taylor: Has concerns, but believes that earning Esme¡¯s trust is more important. Trusts that Esme won¡¯t betray her. Believes that helping Taylor is in Esme¡¯s best interest.


    Esme swallowed her desire to sneer. Taylor proved herself once more to be incapable of true heroics. She did not lance her problems at first sight, instead allowing them to fester. Esme would have rained justice down upon the clergy if she wielded even half the power Taylor had at her fingertips.


    ¡°I have taken your warnings to heart,¡± Roland replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious. You¡¯ve worked the Starlit Cloister up into a frenzy. Sister Adelie almost denied my request.¡±


    It puzzled Esme what the man saw in a hero so ineffective as Taylor was.


    ¡°I am not so foolish as to sabotage my own hull,¡± Esme retorted scathingly.


    Esme would take no actions to betray either of them. Taylor was right to believe that they were united in purpose ¡ª so long as they worked towards undermining the House of Light, anyway. Esme had no intent to make her stay with them permanent, or of following any more of Taylor¡¯s bleating beyond what was required to not see herself evicted. Esme would find shelter with them only so long as it took her to find a ship to call her own.


    ¡°No thefts either, and remember to muffle your steps. This is a fact finding mission. We¡¯re not stealing anything.¡±


    Taylor continued to lay down rules. She was one of many examples of why Good had yet to triumph over Evil. So much power and no willingness to put it to use. Taylor muttered a prayer and both Esme and Roland were shrouded in Light, before vanishing from sight entirely. Taylor concentrated once more. It was only a heartbeat later that Esme¡¯s sight was overlaid with a second sense of vision. One that was shrouded in reds and blues.


    Both Roland and herself were lit up under this odd light as stark silhouettes of scarlet.


    All three of them embarked on their quest, following the road that led towards the Starlit Cloister. Taylor had agreed to a tour of the cloister ¡ª citing an interest of joining the other sisters there in seclusion ¡ª and one of the Holies had been eager to accede to her request.


    Half the sand had run out of the hourglass when they at last drew close to their destination.


    A dull rage simmered in Esme¡¯s belly, much like the promise of an oncoming storm on the horizon at sea.


    They followed the winding slate road that rose sinuously towards basalt barriers that towered like the masts of a galleon up ahead. They passed three rings of ditches and a now frozen moat on the path towards the walls. Detailed ornamentation marked the exterior of the walls. The crenelations loomed high in the sky above, and warrior monks watched like eagles from the safety of the battlements.


    Similar men and women garbed for battle patrolled the path leading towards the gatehouse.


    Esme shivered under the scalding net of Light the Aspirant had cast around her. She was almost unable to trust her own eyes. She could not believe how easily they had sailed past the defences. Esme would never have agreed to see this folly through without assurances as to Taylor¡¯s pure intentions.


    The faithful took one look at the Aspirant and allowed her entry without question.


    Esme¡¯s lips curled up in distaste and reminded herself once more that this task was a necessary step if she wished to enact her own brand of vengeance. While Taylor would only take her ship so far, there was nothing preventing Esme from sailing the remaining distance on her own.


    Immaculate hedges tended with ceaseless dedication lined the road on the other side of the walls. Stairs rose towards the clouded heavens. Despite the turn of the season, not a speck of snow tainted the verdant gardens of green.


    Esme swallowed her fury as all three of them approached the sprawling basalt complex ahead. Why were these monsters in white allowed such niceties when she spent days being chased down like a beast?


    A dull throb had set into her legs by the time they had reached the thick double door. She thought she had grown inured to time spent on her legs during her flight on the streets, but it appeared that her beliefs were unfounded. Emse wished that she could voice her protests. It was a pity that she needed to hold her tongue.


    Taylor was made to wait in the atrium. It was a large open room with sweeping stone arches, supporting pillars and walls gilded in gold. The tiled mosaic on the floor depicted a scene of battle at the base of the Tower that Esme presumed was from the first crusade. Not even the roof of the atrium remained unadorned.


    ¡°It warms my heart that you accepted my invitation, sister Taylor,¡± a fair skinned green-eyed woman clad in white and gold greeted Taylor, her voice laced with warmth.


    Behaviour ¡ª Sister Adelie: Relaxed, but eyes focused. Attempting to present the idea that she is pleased to see Taylor.


    Tone of voice ¡ª Sister Adelie: Affected, not real. Wary.


    Word choice ¡ª Sister Adelie: ¡°accepted my invitation¡± compared with ¡°to see you.¡± Suggests ulterior motives to desiring Taylor¡¯s presence.


    ¡°I always planned to, sister Adelie,¡± Taylor replied.


    Behaviour ¡ª Taylor: Slight lowering in tone of voice indicative of anger.


    Word choice ¡ª Taylor: ¡°planned,¡± not, ¡°intended.¡± No affirming supporting words. Taylor does not desire to accommodate the desires of the Holies at all. Sees meeting with them as nothing more than a means to an end.


    Esme relinquished her glimpse on Taylor¡¯s inner thoughts. It was nothing that she had not already grasped in the recent past.


    ¡°Shall we begin our tour?¡± she gestured towards a passage on the left of the entrance.


    ¡°Lets,¡± Taylor nodded her agreement.


    All four of them began their investigation of the Starlit Cloister. They travelled past the secluded quadrangles and their pristine gardens along a tiled floor that told a story from one end to the other. Their journey through the religious bastion was slow enough to be considered glacial. Sister Adelie insisted they have frequent stops as she expounded upon one religious artefact or another. From reliefs depicting scenes contained within scriptures, to relics once owned by one hero or another.


    The course sister Adelie charted took them up stairwells to viewing platforms above, past more than one room for prayer and contemplation, down the stairs once more. They inspected vast dining halls, dormitories, and even animals out to pasture.


    The Starlit Cloister was a small island sequestered away within the larger sea of Salia where all who lived in residence were devoted to serving the Gods.


    Taylor¡¯s delight was plain for all to see. She smiled openly and hung onto every word the woman said.


    Esme could read the fury that simmered deep behind Taylor¡¯s eyes despite her cheerful fa?ade.


    It was the only trait Esme shared with the otherwise ineffective hero. Esme was a hero despite Taylor¡¯s words. She had set out to right the many injustices she perceived within the Principate. The Saint of Swords took justice into her own hands. Esme saw no reason why she could not wield a blade of her own.


    ¡°What happened there?¡± Taylor asked, pointing towards a blackened courtyard.


    ¡°A ruffian set light to the courtyard during their failed attempt to spirit away artefacts from the Starlit Cloister.¡± Sister Adelie answered.


    Behaviour ¡ª Sister Adelie: the minute pause in her answer indicates that she knows what she says is false.


    Speculation: Sister Adelie is probing Taylor to learn if Taylor is involved. She doesn¡¯t know what the goal of the break-ins was, but is attempting to learn more. She suspects more attempts will be made. Sensitive information is being moved.


    Esme was not certain whether the knowledge she had fished made it more advantageous for them to strike during this scouting trip if the opportunity presented itself, or if they should wait until they were better prepared. The longer they waited, the more time the Holies had to determine their ultimate goal.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°I apologize for the state of this section of the tour. The garden would be a delight to behold at any other time.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    A bell must have passed before they made any headway on their quest. Esme had done her best to examine every detail of the Starlit Cloister, drafting a mental chart of what they needed to know. They had circled the compound and were following a circuitous route leading towards the entrance once more. Not much remained within the building for them to map.


    It took a will of iron to remain focused on their shared burden while enduring the tedium of the tour.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Taylor whispered as they exited the main building and entered another lined with scribes hunched over desks.


    ¡°This scriptorium attends to the needs of many of the churches and cathedrals within the confines of Salia. The records are all stored below ground in the Starlit Archives. I can give you a tour of the Archive if you wish, although there is not much of note to observe. One or two historical pieces of note, but little else besides dusty books.¡±


    Speculation: Exposition of archive contents is deliberate. Is trying to determine if Taylor has any interest in them.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to.¡±


    Esme shook her head vigorously, cautioning Taylor not to agree. Taylor paid no heed to her warning.


    ¡°Of course, Chosen.¡±


    They followed sister Adelie towards a narrow stairwell descending below the scriptorium. It took effort to muffle the sound of her step as she began to descend the stairs. It was not long before they entered into a room lined with shelves as far as the eye could see.


    Esme tripped over a loose tile and stumbled into one of the stacks. She scrambled forward and pulled herself to safer waters as the shelf teetered, then toppled over. The books arrayed on the shelf spilled out onto the floor. Esme swallowed one of the many uncouth oaths she had heard Songbird utter. It would not do to give her position away.


    ¡°Be you a crook or a sister ¡ª if there is someone else following behind us without permission, then it is best that you step out of the shadows now.¡± Sister Adelie called out. ¡°I know that many of you wish for the opportunity to meet the Chosen, but that does not excuse breaking the rules.¡±


    Esme navigated her way on hands and knees away from where she fell. She was fortunate that none of the books had landed where she lay. Whoever was responsible for maintaining the archive floors should be flogged for failing at their appointed task.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see anyone,¡± Taylor stated.


    Esme held her breath as sister Adelie approached with her green eyes narrowed in thought. Her heart beat louder than the cries of seagulls. Sister Adelie knelt down and reached forward, her right hand grasping toward where Esme lay.


    Then Roland pushed over another shelf behind Sister Adelie. The ruckus distracted the woman, diverting her attention away from the space where Esme lay. Sister Adelie paused, then tilted her head towards the shelves.


    ¡°Perhaps rot has found its way into the wood,¡± she mused. ¡°I will need to register this discrepancy with the sister in charge of the archives. I hope you do not mind the detour.¡±


    Behaviour ¡ª Sister Adelie: Distraction is affected. Hand trembling.


    Word choice ¡ª Sister Adelie: ¡°rot has found its way into the wood,¡± she suspects Taylor is scheming against her.


    Speculation: Sister Adelie is aware of Esme¡¯s presence. Pretending not to notice for fear of death. Sister Adelie intends to act on the knowledge once Taylor has departed.


    Would it be more advantageous for Esme to share what she had discovered with the others now, or remain silent about what she had learned? Esme did not wish the priests to escape justice. Warning them of Taylor¡¯s goals might allow them to swim free, but it also might do the reverse.


    The time Esme had spent with Taylor had allowed her to dig deep into the buried secrets the other Chosen held. Taylor was reluctant to retreat from a fight once she had claimed it as her own. Esme believed that if Taylor¡¯s attempt at a peaceful resolution failed, she would choose to escalate rather than back down.


    There were risks involved in attempting such a scheme. Esme was still uncertain of Songbird¡¯s motives, which made it challenging to predict how the woman would react. The woman was responsible for the group¡¯s planning. Acting without understanding her thoughts invited a kind of peril that Esme did not approve of.


    It did not change that there was much to be gained as well. It was another current leading to the destination she had charted. Esme would not risk the decision until she had found a new port to call home.


    But for now she would say nothing and see which way the wind blew.


    <hr>


    Gods, I thank you that Esme did not give us away.


    ¡°This shelf harbours the genealogies of those among the faithful that reside at the cloister for the past hundred years,¡± Esme whispered his way in disgust.


    She closed the unrolled parchment she held and placed it with care back onto the shelf.


    The two of them had broken off from Taylor while they were within the archive. They would not have risked as much were it not for the fact that few moved between the shelves. The scope of the archive meant that their plans might require revision. There was a mountain of records to sift through. Roland admitted that delving through the Starlit Archive for the evidence they required would be the work of months without Esme¡¯s assistance.


    Esme was able to unravel the enigmatic shelving system used by the priests and narrow down the scope of their search with only a glance. She skulked over to the next shelf and pulled out another tome. Roland did his best to maintain vigilance.


    ¡°Marriage agreements,¡± she muttered under her breath. She strolled to the other end of the same shelf and withdrew a thick tome ¡ª took a brief look inside ¡ª and then honed in on the details.


    Once more, they relocated to another shelf.


    Once more, Esme voiced her disappointment.


    Taylor and Sister Adelie delved deeper into the stacks in the distance. There were scrolls dating back to the founding of Procer that Sister Adelie wished to show Taylor. The two of them did not have much time to narrow their search.


    A few heartbeats later and Esme stiffened.


    ¡°None of these shelves contain the records we require,¡± she stated with confidence.


    She pointed at each of them from one end of the Archive to the other and gave a brief explanation of what each would contain. Nothing she indicated was more recent than the past decade.


    ¡°Excellent work,¡± Roland praised. Esme flushed a deeper shade of purple. ¡°Do you have any hints as to where we can find the records we need?¡±


    ¡°I suspect that they are held somewhere above ground in an office, or in one of the more secure vaults.¡±


    ¡°We will need to follow through with the remainder of the tour to learn more of the lay of the place.¡±


    They picked up their pace and rejoined both Taylor and Sister Adelie at the other end of the shelves. Roland listened with one ear to her narration of the history of the cloister as she pointed out one historical text or another. The bulk of his attention was focused on ensuring that Esme did not break from the shelter of their invisibility a second time.


    It was not long until Sister Adelie escorted them above ground once more.


    They moved from chamber to chamber. Roland was pleasantly surprised that Esme did not raise a complaint when Taylor accepted an invitation for a late afternoon meal with the rest of the clergy.


    Sands fell as they waited for the feast to end.


    Roland stiffened when he felt the hidden hand of Esme rest upon his shoulders. He turned towards her and saw her gesture towards one of the corners of the room. Hackles rising, he followed behind her.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been following the currents of their conversation and have determined where the records we seek can be found,¡± Esme whispered. ¡°We should use this feast as an opportunity to claim what we seek and then make good on our escape.¡±


    Roland considered the proposal for a few heartbeats.


    ¡°Should anything of importance be spirited away during Taylor¡¯s tour, it will implicate her in the act.¡± He denied. ¡°I suggest that you point me to the location of the documents, and I seize them at a later date.¡±


    The two of them bickered back and forth in hushed tones while the meal progressed. It took effort before Esme at last acceded to his conditions. The tour did not last for much longer before Taylor grew tired and begged to leave for the day. It was time for the three of them to compile what they knew.


    It was time for Roland to spirit away the Starlit Cloister¡¯s accounts.

 Concord 5.07

    ¡°Those aren¡¯t spies, they¡¯re merely inconspicuous diplomatic envoys.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Empress Sinistra II, the Coy


    <hr>


    Gaining admittance to the Les Horizons Lugubres was a chore.


    The three of us needed to be vouched for by three existing patrons of the tavern before we were allowed entry. Songbird arranged for our invitations to the establishment. She had also insisted that she attend the meeting, although I was not entirely certain of why.


    I could have forced my way in by dint of reputation alone. A glance my way was enough to let people know that I was a hero. I chose not to do so. I was intending to act as the face for heroism in the future. A heroism that obeyed at least some semblance of the laws. It didn¡¯t matter that those rules for heroes would be different to the rules that everyone else had to follow.


    It didn¡¯t bode well for following other laws if I couldn¡¯t follow guidelines this simple.


    I wouldn¡¯t have cared about attending the establishment at all were it not for Songbird¡¯s recommendation. She had done some snooping and discovered that Louis de Sartrons frequented the place. We could have arranged a meeting through his intermediaries.


    Songbird suggested that we show up uninvited while he was holding a meal instead.


    Songbird, Esme, and I entered the sleek restaurant. The other two were garbed like a lyre bird and a peacock, respectively. They wore elaborate dresses that would not look out of place among members of the nobility. Songbird¡¯s red hair hung loose over her shoulders for once. She almost looked regal, standing tall as she was with her back straight and her chin up.


    An attendant with a perpetual storm cloud hovering over them dressed like a chessboard met us near the door with a scroll in hand.


    ¡°Greetings, madams,¡± he bowed low, then stood back up. ¡°This is a place for people of refinement.¡±


    His piercing grey eyes ignored the other two and lingered on me as he spoke.


    ¡°Here is our proof of invitation.¡± Songbird stepped forward and passed a series of documents across to the man. It surprised me how deft he was at handling them without dropping the documents that he already held.


    ¡°Very well then,¡± his lips pressed into a line as he examined the contents, ¡°it appears that you have earned your admittance. However, you have not booked a table in advance.¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be an issue. Another patron should be expecting us,¡± Songbird¡¯s brown eyes twinkled with mischief as she reclaimed our proof of admittance.


    The man frowned, then looked towards his parchment.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that none of the attending patrons denoted the presence of guests,¡± the tone of his voice dipped. He sounded almost consoling.


    ¡°We are here to settle matters with that shark, Louis de Sartrons,¡± Esme interjected, the lines on her face becoming more haughty as she spoke. ¡°We are not here to argue with one of his cronies.¡±


    Esme presented a strong front, but even I could tell that she was terrified. Her posture was stiff, and her hands were balled into fists. Her eyes kept darting towards the snow dusted streets beside us.


    The man looked bored. I doubted that it would be so easy to make him rise to the barb.


    After a few moments, however, he paused, stiffened, then narrowed his eyes. ¡°None of the souls in attendance go by that appellation,¡± he protested.


    ¡°Are you certain of that? We only wish for him to be informed of our arrival. He wouldn¡¯t appreciate what would occur if the message arrived late.¡± Songbird warned.


    ¡°Allow me a moment to check the manifests,¡± the man stated before vanishing into the building.


    I was certain the manifests were on the desk directly in front of the entrance, not in any of the rooms or balconies further back. It didn¡¯t matter. We knew Louis of Sartrons was here. The attendant knew that we knew. I¡¯d let him maintain his polite fiction if it was something that was expected of him.


    ¡°Still not sure that this is a good idea,¡± I muttered to Songbird while the three of us lingered outside the open doorway.


    ¡°S¡¯about not letting him control the interrogation.¡±


    ¡°Seems antagonistic.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s also necessary.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I sighed.


    Songbird was right, and in this case I wasn¡¯t happy about it. We needed the Circle of Thorns to know that we could track them down if we needed to. There were a few reasons for that. I hoped none of them would ever become relevant.


    There was a possibility that Louis de Sartrons would either demand for a meeting to be set up later on his own terms somewhere else, or put us off entirely. Songbird had assured me that the man wouldn¡¯t do either.


    She was proven correct a few heartbeats later when the attendant arrived once more, then proceeded to escort us further into the building. The establishment boasted a kind of service that I had only ever read about in theory before and never witnessed in person.


    We passed through a maze of corridors and passages threaded between private alcoves. Each alcove featured a different theme. The attendant came to a stop outside a space decorated in greens and blues, with nets hanging from the ceiling and waves painted on the walls. The room smelled of brine.


    I felt like I was walking onto a beach as I stepped through the arched doorway.


    Louis de Sartrons and two others were seated at the far end of a table that looked like it could play host to more than a dozen. All three of them were making quick work of three individualized platters of fish. Hake, Tuna, trout, some mussels, and calamari as well as a few other sea delicacies that I did not recognize.


    ¡°It¡¯s so good of you to join us, Chosen,¡± the skeleton rapped his knuckle on the table, then raised his wineglass to me.


    ¡°We¡¯re here about Esme.¡± The girl in question bristled from beside me, but said nothing.


    Louis de Sartrons pursed his lips.


    ¡°Would you like to take a seat?¡± he put down his wineglass and gestured towards some empty chairs.


    ¡°Sure.¡± All three of us moved towards some unoccupied seats.


    The man gave his friends a lingering look before turning his attention back towards us.


    ¡°Antonie, could you depart to my office and return with both the documentation pertaining to the affairs of Adele de Anouilh and the pouch belonging to the Chosen?¡±


    The blonde beside Louis rapped her knuckle on the table, then addressed everyone. ¡°Very well, Louis. I will be taking my leave then.¡±


    The blacked haired man beside her did much the same. Both of them stood up. The man picked up two of the platters and removed them from the table as he departed. The woman simply left.


    The man returned and was in the process of removing the third platter when Louis spoke up once more.


    ¡°This discussion is likely to become involved. Would any of you care for a drink?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have some tea. One of the blends imported from Yan Tei, if you have any,¡± I requested.


    This place is so fancy that I doubt they don¡¯t. I know Cordelia drinks them. I might as well enjoy the experience if this man is paying for it.


    ¡°You are fortunate that Les Horizons Lugubres still has any exotic teas in stock. All imports from the Baalite Hegemony have already dried up. Trade between Calernia and the wider world has stalled recently due to conflicts arising beyond the shores,¡± my interlocutor informed me.


    My stomach tied itself in knots. I hoped that the disruption to trade wasn¡¯t my fault, but I wasn¡¯t willing to wager on it.


    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate an Arlesite red,¡± Songbird commented.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been informed that the thirteen-o-five vintage of Pri¨¨re de Fou is currently in vogue among the upper nobility,¡± Esme sniffed.


    The man ¡ª who I was assuming was one of Louis¡¯s friends or equals ¡ª took note of what we desired and left. It surprised me. I was tempted to ask where the waiters were, but decided against it.


    It wasn¡¯t much longer until Antonie returned and placed a stack of documents in front of the man and a pouch in front of me. I opened it and checked the contents against what I recalled should be there. I cheated with Yvette¡¯s notes and paged through them, then compared the length of the new memory to the length of the older existing ones. It wasn¡¯t enough to guarantee that nothing had been changed without a more thorough examination, but it was the best that I could do.


    Nothing appeared to be missing.


    Antonie departed the room once more.


    ¡°I¡¯d burn any copies of these notes,¡± I tapped on Yvette¡¯s notes for emphasis.


    ¡°I assure you that no duplicates of those texts were made.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not reassuring.¡±


    ¡°Our finest sorcerers were unable to make heads or tails of what was written within them.¡±


    The man returned with a teacup, a steaming teapot, three bottles of wine and three wineglasses. The beverages were placed to the left of each person respectively. It wasn¡¯t long until I inhaled the fruity, fragrant aroma of the tea. I took a small sip and sighed unconsciously. The bitter taste was bliss in my mouth.


    ¡°I¡¯m giving the warning all the same.¡±


    Songbird had suggested we waited until they were back in our possession before we passed on a warning, but that we did pass one on just in case. I agreed. It was better to cover all of our bases than to risk the notes presenting a problem for us later.


    ¡°Shall we move onto other matters then?¡± Louis raised an eyebrow in question.


    ¡°Lets.¡±


    Louis de Sartrons began to ask Esme a series of involved questions relating to a large pile of documents. Her answers were reticent at first, but she quickly gained confidence. I did my best to pay attention to the discussion, going so far as to use innovate to follow along once it moved onto subjects that I didn¡¯t quite understand.


    The interrogation lasted a while and appeared to be related to foreign trade agreements. I wasn¡¯t certain of why there was so much interest being placed on these trade agreements, but Esme seemed not only willing but also eager to answer.


    It wasn¡¯t long until she was volunteering information unasked for and putting together connections based on presented evidence that nobody else had reached.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I suspected that Esme had learned something about this interrogation that made it far more personal for her. Personal in a way that made her happy to help.


    ¡°Can you explain to me what this is about?¡± I interjected.


    ¡°The reason the Circle of Thorns sought out Adele de Anouilh is due to investigation into her family¡¯s business relations with Mercantis. We have been investigating the allegations raised by Cordelia Hasenbach in regard to the activities of the Pravus bank, among other concerns. Her family is one among the nobility that is implicated by evidence which we have acquired. The evidence we possess suggests that they are involved at more than merely a surface level.¡± Louis de Sartrons explained.


    Esme rapped her knuckles on the table thrice. Loius¡¯s lips raised up into a razor-thin grin.


    ¡°I have cast aside my name of birth and instead go by the name of Esme,¡± she declared.


    They picked up their discussion once more. It steadily became more and more involved. Time passed. The hour grew late. More refreshments were brought in, along with additional piles of documentation.


    Esme poured over it all like an oil spill in water.


    She had become so lost in the work she was conducting that she had begun to lower her guard. Her shoulders relaxed, and her eyes filled with energy. It filled me with melancholy. This discussion was the happiest I had ever seen her.


    ¡°The Circle of Thorns thanks you for your contributions. Your testimonies will prove to be invaluable,¡± Louis de Sartrons praised.


    The sun had started to set. I realized that the interrogation had ended long ago. The documents that Esme was examining now were unrelated to the earlier interrogation. I suspected that the man was making a subtle recruitment pitch.


    It was time for us to leave.


    ¡°I wish you luck in your efforts to bring justice to these agents of Praes,¡± Esme replied.


    The jubilation that Esme currently exhibited would have filled me with trepidation towards the man. That is, they would have, if my impression of him was not already so negative.


    ¡°The Circle of Thorns does not often extend an invitation towards someone without a more extensive waiting period. I am willing to consider offering you one in light of this demonstration.¡±


    ¡°I will give the matter the consideration it is due,¡± Esme demurred.


    Is she really considering this?


    I frowned.


    The man had hunted her down on the streets. Surely she wouldn¡¯t consider working with him?


    Esme and I stood up to leave. Esme had already stepped through the door, and I was just about to reach it when I realized that Songbird had remained seated. I turned towards her and raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°I will be along momentarily. There are a few more issues of an unrelated nature that I wish to discuss with Loius de Sartrons personally.¡±


    I raised another eyebrow at her. She gave a minute nod.


    I didn¡¯t know what she wanted with the man, but it was a subtle sign that she needed me to trust her.


    A voice at the back of my head warned me that I shouldn¡¯t do it. That I was taking too big of a risk. I stilled it. This was her chance to prove herself better¡­ I just hoped that I wasn¡¯t making a mistake.


    <hr>


    ¡°Repeat that,¡± I blinked.


    ¡°Y¡¯need to make noise on the street today. Spend some time with Yvie, then go out and help people.¡±


    Songbird was leaning on the door frame, halfway out of the room. She was planning to leave sometime soon and arrange the next part of the plan.


    I didn¡¯t know what that was.


    ¡°Can you explain why?¡±


    ¡°S¡¯what you should be doing.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I agreed.


    I was reluctant to go along with this. Esme joining us had complicated everything, and not in a good way. It meant that Songbird had to keep all of her planning close to her chest again. It was a struggle for me to not complain about it.


    Furthermore, Esme was unpleasant to be around. She only did the bare minimum to be allowed to stay, and hadn¡¯t mellowed out much at all. There was only so much more of her nastiness that I was prepared to tolerate. I¡¯d given her some leeway due to the circumstances that led to her seeking shelter with us. That leeway was only going so far.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be around,¡± Songbird left.


    I made my way to Yvette¡¯s room and knocked on the door.


    Having an excuse to spend more time with her was still a positive, even if I hated sitting around. Songbird wanted me to fill a specific niche in the story she was trying to weave, and that niche wasn¡¯t the Role of a rogue. It had made the entire tour of the Starlit Cloister awkward. I¡¯d needed to ask myself what actions I would take if the others were not there. I wasn¡¯t there in the Role of an infiltrator, I was there in the Role of Taylor the priestess.


    ¡°Good morning, ma,¡± Yvette greeted me.


    Her hair was a mess and her eyes were still grungy. It appeared that she had only just woken up. She¡¯d started to put on a growth spurt. I suspected that in a couple of months she would at least come up to my nose.


    Yvette¡¯s birthday was in Spring, and I was still deliberating on what to do for her. The people of Procer did not celebrate birthdays, but she was my kid and I wanted to do something for her. It might not be a tradition that she was used to¡­ but she would probably appreciate the gesture regardless.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be spending the day with you again. I¡¯ll be out in the afternoon, but is there anything you want to do with me in the morning?¡±


    Yvette¡¯s eyes lit up.


    ¡°Yes there is Now that I¡¯ve got my notes back I¡¯d love to-¡± she paused, took a breath and then continued. ¡°Yes, there is. Now that I¡¯ve got my notes back, I¡¯d love to see if you can replicate the tabula rasa effect. It isn¡¯t quite the same thing as what you were doing before, but it¡¯s close enough to help my research.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s safe for me to do that,¡± I pointed out.


    I wasn¡¯t even sure if I could achieve that kind of effect, either. It would take a lot of Light to renew the fabric of the Pattern that way. As much as the others liked to tease me about it, I wasn¡¯t actually an Angel.


    ¡°Oh, well, that¡¯s okay,¡± she mumbled. Her eyes dropped to the floor. ¡°I¡¯m allowed to conduct more experiments though if you¡¯re providing oversight?¡±


    ¡°I think we should wait on those until you have a proper lab,¡± I smiled at her. ¡°The owners won¡¯t be happy with either of us if you¡¯re blowing holes in their establishment.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she pouted. ¡°So, what are we going to do today?¡±


    ¡°Leaving the decision to me?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t think of something to do,¡± she admitted. ¡°I want to progress my own research, but I¡¯m not able to do that unless we are either out of town, or we settle down somewhere permanently. You promised that one day we¡¯ll have our own place, and I¡¯ll have space to myself. I¡¯m holding you to that.¡±


    I winced. Our constant travelling had not been good for her research. She never had the opportunity to conduct experiments with proper equipment. I suspected that she would work wonders once she had access to specialized tools.


    ¡°How about we talk and browse the shops. Songbird wants me to be out and visible anyhow. This can double up as both duties.¡±


    ¡°That sounds good. I¡¯ll just get changed. I¡¯m a real mess at the moment.¡±


    I closed the door and waited for her for a few hails. Yvette came out dressed in a thick brown woollen jacket with mittens, trousers, and boots with a scarf wrapped around her neck. She looked almost like a baby grizzly bear. Both of us were prepared to leave. The others had all already gone out on one mission or another. That left only us two.


    We stepped outside onto the street. My two guards trailed along with us. One before me and the other behind. They remained silent, professional. It stood in stark contrast to how easy going they were anywhere else.


    The air was clammy, and a pea soup fog clung to the air. It was hard to see more than a few feet ahead.


    There weren¡¯t many people out, but that would change as the sun rose.


    ¡°Are you sure we need to go out now? It¡¯s cold and wet and miserable,¡± Yvette complained.


    ¡°We can stay at home if you want to,¡± I answered, amused.


    ¡°Wait, really?¡± she stumbled. I reached out to catch her before she face planted in the snow.


    ¡°We¡¯re doing this for you, not for me. It¡¯s about seeing if there¡¯s anything useful for you. But if you don¡¯t want to shop¡­¡± I trailed off.


    ¡°Oh, well. No, it¡¯s fine,¡± she hugged her arms close to herself as she walked.


    We reached an intersection and took the road to the left of us that sloped further uphill. The further up you went, the more extravagant everything became and the better the goods available to buy.


    ¡°Have you considered what else you can do with Call?¡±


    It was a subject that I hadn¡¯t broached before, although I was curious about it. It felt like a decision that was personal to her. I wouldn¡¯t be pressuring her one way or the other.


    ¡°I have, but I¡¯ve decided not to do anything else with it,¡± she enunciated each word slowly.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I want it to matter when I use it. I suspect that I could summon other entities besides you. Demons, lesser ¡®gods¡¯ or possibly even an Angel are all different entities I¡¯ve considered. There¡¯s even someone that I suspect I could communicate with. I feel a¡­ resonance when I analyse the Titan runes pulling me towards the south. I suspect that one of them is still alive, and we could talk to him or her. The problem is I¡¯d weaken the strength of Call by diluting its purpose. Laurence talked about focusing on a single thing. I¡¯m going to do that.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m always here for you.¡± I told her gently.


    ¡°I know,¡± her cheeks flushed and she avoided meeting my gaze. ¡°Perhaps-¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to justify the decision to me,¡± I whispered to her and hugged her with one arm.


    Her voice trailed off.


    It was touching. Warm in a way that pushed the cold back far, far, away. I wasn¡¯t sure if it was the right decision to make. It meant that if she ever truly needed to call for me, she would have a way to do so. It would make her own research harder to do if she limited herself that way, but the decision was not mine to make.


    I suspected that this wasn¡¯t the intended purpose of Call. It felt to me as if it was supposed to be used to send a summons to higher powers and ask them if they were willing to offer assistance. The idea of Yvette summoning the Dead King over for tea almost made me chuckle.


    ¡°We should travel south then when we have the time in the future,¡± I suggested.


    ¡°That sounds good,¡± she perked up.


    We continued on our way, inspecting stalls and purchasing the occasional item. I stopped frequently and healed those who were injured. It had taken me some effort and a hefty dose of innovate, but I¡¯d found a way to heal multiple people at the same time and at range. The more people I tried to heal, the harder it became, but it was something that I was committed to learning. Sooner or later there would be another major disaster and I wanted to be able to mitigate it.


    We left the Upper Yearning and moved into the city slums. My help was both more necessary and more appreciated among the poor. I wasn¡¯t concerned about either of us being attacked ¡ª it was easy to maintain a small protective barrier ¡ª and even if I didn¡¯t do as much, I doubted that anyone would attack me. It was good work ¡ª the right kind of work ¡ª and every person I helped left me feeling just a little lighter.


    The mosaic that was my Name became clearer with every person I helped. I felt like I was scratching an itch. It was like there was a silent voice at the back of my head whispering encouragement and telling me that this was what I¡¯d been chosen to do.


    It was late in the afternoon when a horse almost galloped into a group of people up ahead of us from just around a corner. I wasn¡¯t sure how none of the group saw the approaching threat.


    ¡°Tay-Taylor, can you stop that!¡± Blaise called out in warning.


    I almost didn¡¯t see the animal. Without the shouted cry of Blaise, I would have missed it. I raised a barrier of Light around the group to prevent the collision, only for the poor animal to smash into it.


    We stopped to heal both the horse and the rider, who had been thrown onto the ground.


    He was a tall, pale, thin man with long, wavy brown hair. He had a narrow face and his skin looked unhealthy. It featured many yellow splotches and some bruising from the fall. He looked like a mop standing upside down. His health concerned me. His green eyes softened as I stepped beside him.


    Light suffused me and flowed into the man.


    The bruises faded away, the splotches did not.


    ¡°My apologies for waylaying you like this, sister.¡± His voice was deep and thrummed with energy as he spoke. It was at odds with his frame.


    ¡°Be more careful next time,¡± I admonished.


    ¡°I do not know what madness overcame my mount.¡± He paused and examined me, then his eyes widened. ¡°Would you be the one that the Saint of Swords called the Aspirant?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°She urged me to seek you out in my quest before she departed on her own journey. I am Pascal, the Reformist.¡± There was something odd about his voice, but I couldn¡¯t quite put my finger on what it was. It was as if the world became lighter whenever he spoke.


    My shoulders loosened.


    The man smiled and held out a hand. I took it and pulled him to his feet.


    ¡°You¡¯re from Bayeux?¡±


    ¡°The brothers and sisters there drove me out when I decried their many misdeeds.¡±


    My thoughts spun in circles. Surely Songbird could not have predicted this? She must have wanted me helping others out today for a different reason. It didn¡¯t matter. The man was here, and it appeared that he wanted to help.


    ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you. I¡¯m sister Taylor, the Aspirant.¡±


    ¡°The Saint of Swords informed me that you intend to bring change to the dusty halls of the House of Light. Is this true?¡±


    ¡°It is. The Holies have left me disappointed.¡±


    ¡°Then let the two of us see what good we can achieve together, sister.¡± His grin widened.


    The smile was filled with warmth. It would have been attractive had he been in better health.


    ¡°Lets,¡± I agreed, smiling back in return.

 Concord 5.0e

    ¡°Not to worry, Chancellor, I¡¯m sure the traitors in the Empire will own up to their machinations soon enough.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Imperious


    <hr>


    Louis de Sartrons examined the scarlet haired woman seated across from him. The Circle of Thorns did not have much information on her ¡ª they were primarily focused on external, rather than internal, threats ¡ª but it would be a failure of their purpose had they failed to compile anything of note about another intelligence agent active within the Principate at all.


    Their rather brief dossiers on her mentioned that she was an orphan. The lands up north were harsh, and those who did not learn to adapt to their cruel circumstances earned themselves a northern burial. Her parents had died at a young age. She had been recruited by Princess Mathilda¡¯s intelligence network shortly after she had found herself living on the streets. The name of Songbird had been assigned to her at some stage in her career. It had stuck. She was in her mid-twenties now and had been serving in her capacity as a spy for many years.


    She had taken to courtly intrigues like a fish to water once recruited.


    Recent information on Songbird was sparse, although not for a lack of investigation. She had dropped out of her service to Princess Mathilda seemingly overnight, before appearing again in the service of one of the more recent of the Chosen to wander the Principate of Procer. The decision was marked as anomalous. People in their trade were not known for having abrupt flights of fancy.


    Louis decided that it was her ¡ª and none of the others within the group that had arrived uninvited ¡ª who was the one responsible for the unearthing of the Circle¡¯s establishment of choice. The evidence suggested that she would have been made aware of their headquarters during her tenure in service to Princess Mathilda.


    That knowledge was no less dangerous because it had been acquired by means that had since been closed to her. It was unfortunate that the Circle of Thorns would need to relocate in the wake of their discovery. Songbird¡¯s subtle message was not appreciated, but accepted in the spirit that it was given.


    Songbird did not consider the Circle of Thorns to be an enemy.


    She would not have provided forewarning by appearing at their door if she felt otherwise. They would most likely have all perished by poison if she saw them as foes. It would have been a mistake for an opponent to alert them to their presence in this way. It gave the Circle of Thorns a more accurate read on what she were truly capable of.


    ¡°I suggest that you find more gentle methods of persuasion in the years to come,¡± Songbird stated.


    ¡°Your current employer disapproves of our current approach to interrogation.¡±


    It was the most reasonable conclusion to draw.


    ¡°She¡¯s more durable than the Saint of Swords and about as dangerous. Unlike other heroes, she has an active interest in involving herself in the political landscape. It is in your best interest not to earn her ire because sooner or later she will achieve the ends she desires.¡±


    ¡°I take it that you would prefer for the transition to be less¡­ bloody.¡±


    The news was disquieting. While it did not come as a surprise that one of the Chosen would disapprove of torture ¡ª  particularly one of Compassion¡¯s children ¡ª it was no less of a complication to the duties they strove to undertake.


    ¡°Do you wish to play out the full song and dance, or would you rather skip the pleasantries?¡± the woman asked him, tapping her fingernails on the table.


    ¡°There is a service that you wish the Circle of Thorns to perform for you,¡± Louis de Sartrons surmised, raising his half empty wine glass to his lips once more.


    It was easy enough to deduce. Where once, Songbird would have had the ability to call on the services of the Neustrian intelligence, she was now limited to whatever she was able to cobble together on her own. The fact that she had waited until her employer had departed before broaching the subject implied a vulnerability in their relationship, but not one that Louis was presently interested in exploiting.


    Those who put their hands too close to the fire of the heavens had an unfortunate habit of erupting in flames.


    ¡°In part,¡± she agreed. ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it if the Circle of Thorns would be prepared to perform a minor favour for me.¡±


    Opening their negotiations by requesting a favour was an intelligent decision on her part. People felt better about themselves when they were given the opportunity to perform a service for others, leaving them more amenable to a long term relationship.


    ¡°The request for a favour implies that you are in a position where you are able to return something tangible to us,¡± he replied.


    ¡°The Holies will be discreetly transporting a large collection of sensitive documents near the Starlit Cloister sometime in the near future. I would like to be notified of the precise details surrounding the relocation.¡±


    ¡°Internal conflicts within the Principate fall outside the duties of the Circle of Thorns,¡± Louis de Sartrons lowered his glass and steepled his fingers on the table.


    ¡°There may be intelligence within their records which assists with your current investigation.¡±


    ¡°That will be taken into consideration,¡± Louis replied.


    It was a clever ploy to encourage the Circle to act, but he was not so easily swayed.


    ¡°I would advise against recruiting Esme,¡± Songbird changed the topic.


    ¡°Is there a reason for this beyond being a well-meaning suggestion not to pouch the employees of another?¡±


    ¡°Esme is counted among the damned. The Aspirant is attempting to redeem her, but the road towards anything resembling redemption is long.¡± Songbird leaned forward.


    ¡°She has not committed any noteworthy felonies. Several minor thefts that could all be¡­ brushed aside should she serve the Principate faithfully.¡±


    ¡°I suggest declining when she appears outside your door to accept your offer. Her sole motivation is her vengeance, and she is prepared to knife anyone in the back to achieve it. The Circle of Thorns is nothing more than a means to an end to achieve her desires.¡±


    ¡°You have proof to support your allegations?¡±


    ¡°The burn on her cheeks is from direct exposure to the Light. It is likely that when she shows up to accept your offer, she will come to you with information on the inner workings of our group. She will claim that what she knows is sensitive and intended to be kept secret from outsiders.¡±


    The implication was that Songbird believed it not to be. It might be a transparent ploy to cast doubt on the words Esme might speak in future, but it may also be genuine. There remained an easy way to determine which of the two it was.


    It was also the less important revelation. It was imperative that all who were in the employ of the Circle were loyal to the Principate above all. Willingness to betray a previous benefactor was an obvious indication of the willingness to betray another in the future. The offer of employment had been made in front of Esme¡¯s current guardian for that reason. It was both a courtesy and a precaution to avoid further complications.


    ¡°Then you would not be afraid to speculate on the nature of what she might divulge?¡±


    Louis de Sartrons doubted that Songbird was lying. It would be foolish for one in her position to attempt deception where the bluff was easily called.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be an issue at all. Taylor¡¯s goals aren¡¯t a secret, because that would defeat the purpose of them. She requires legitimacy above all else, which means she cannot claim what she wants by either deception or force of arms.¡±


    Songbird began to speak. She outlined the broad strokes of Taylor¡¯s plans, as well as some of the specifics which had already been set into motion. The long term ramifications of her schemes did not concern the Circle of Thorns, provided that Songbird was telling the truth.


    Louis de Sartrons thought on their discussion long after she had departed.


    The offer to Esme would remain open only so long as she remained open with the Aspirant and departed on amicable terms. The girl had a talent which would prove useful within the Circle of Thorns if it was correctly nurtured. However, it was an ability only as useful as whatever other positive qualities that the girl might possess.


    Furthermore, she would only be accepted among their number so long as she anticipated this discussion on the part of Songbird.


    Esme might not be aware of the machinations that she was embroiled within, but that would be no excuse for a lapse in her vigilance. The Circle of Thorns never saw the face of its foes in the games of cloak and dagger that it played.


    <hr>


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    It had surprised Esme how easy it was to escape the presence of the other Chosen. Taylor had sailed off with her guards early in the morning. Songbird had returned soon afterwards, but the unnerving woman had made no mention of Esme leaving the tawdry establishment.


    The laxness of the other hero¡¯s security would have been enough to steer Esme into considering departing, had she not made up her mind already.


    She had contemplated the offer that had been made to her for over the span of a day and concluded it was one that she wished to take up. Esme was willing to concede that while Louis de Sartrons had been responsible for her state of distress, the blame lay in part with her. She had misread the Circle of Thorn¡¯s intentions. It stung to admit fault. She had not held the man¡¯s interest so much as what she was able to divulge about her family.


    Sharing what she knew had opened up new opportunities for her vengeance.


    The tacit invitation to join the Circle of Thorns was an opportunity to escape from the smothering unwillingness to act of the other hero. She had seen enough of the Circle of Thorns to intuit there was no weapon they were unwilling to wield in order to chart the perilous waters of foreign espionage. Esme had initially dismissed them from her thoughts. She considered them to be an inappropriate knife on account of her focus being more insular. Circumstances had led her to revise her opinion.


    The corruption within the nobility extended as far as the lands abroad.


    Which was how Esme found herself standing outside the doors of the Les Horizons Lugubres once more. This time she had arrived alone.


    ¡°I have an appointment with Loius de Sartrons,¡± she declared imperiously.


    The attendant did not question her claim and guided her further within the establishment. It was likely that she had been recognized from the day before.


    The Les Horizons Lugubres was a respectable tavern. The interior had been redecorated over the span of a day. None of the alcoves maintained the same adornments, and every room that she inspected appealed to her sensibilities. It was a place much more suited for one such as herself than the Snake¡¯s Nest. Esme suppressed the urge to shudder in recollection.


    She was guided to an outside balcony furnished with tables that were shielded from the elements by large, green umbrellas. They towered upwards and had been shaped so that they appeared almost like fir trees in winter once the peaks had been coated with snow. A small footpath led towards the table her host was seated at.


    A log fire had been lit around the edge of the balcony, maintaining a cosy warmth in direct contrast to the cold.


    Louis de Sartrons sat at the table furthest from the door, with documents piled before him. Esme approached. The stone statues in the garden below were painted in white frosting. She turned her eyes back towards the skeleton that she planned to negotiate with.


    ¡°I bid you welcome,¡± Louis stated.


    He stood up to greet her.


    ¡°Good afternoon,¡± she replied, affecting a demure smile.


    She sat down opposite the man. He did much the same.


    ¡°Have you considered my offer then?¡±


    ¡°I have taken my time to deliberate on it and have decided that I wish to enter your employ.¡±


    ¡°And what of your previous benefactor?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is she aware of your intentions?¡±


    Behaviour: Eyes narrowed, despite relaxed posture.


    Tone of voice: Attempt to mask interest in answer by pretending boredom. The answer is important.


    Speculation: The status of the relationship between Esme and Taylor was significant.


    That didn¡¯t surprise Esme. It made sense that one who worked with the Circle of Thorns could not have divided loyalties. It was best to reassure the man that her relationship with Taylor was at an end.


    ¡°I have no loyalty to the Aspirant. She offered me shelter and hospitality of her own free will, but I neither like nor respect one who is unwilling to act decisively in an effort to mend the hull of this broken ship,¡± Esme explained.


    ¡°Would you care to elaborate?¡±


    And so Esme continued to speak.


    It was only halfway through her denunciation of Taylor¡¯s plans that she was struck by a significant realization. None of what she had imparted had come as a surprise to the man.


    ¡°You are already familiar with these revelations,¡± she stated with conviction.


    ¡°I am afraid that a person with your loyalties is incompatible with our duties,¡± the man consoled. ¡°I hope for your sake that you are able to reconcile with your benefactor.¡±


    Tone of voice: dip on the word loyalties. Implication that having loyalty is important. Display of a lack of loyalty has lost his interest.


    Word choice: ¡°Reconcile¡± not ¡°return,¡± suggests Taylor already knew about Esme¡¯s betrayal.


    Speculation: Can alleviate circumstances by clarifying that Esme was never loyal to Taylor.


    ¡°You are operating under the misapprehension that I was ever loyal to Taylor. She may have sheltered me from the storm, but I was always acting in my own interests.¡±


    ¡°I have determined that you are not prepared to be loyal to anyone whose interests do not perfectly align with your own.¡± the man breathed in, paused, then frowned.


    Esme prepared to reply.


    ¡°Perhaps in other circumstances your talents may have served our purposes. It is unfortunate that we must part ways. I bid you farewell.¡± Louis de Sartrons turned away from Esme, pointedly looking down at the documents on the table below him.


    Esme did not need to attempt to Discern the man to see what truths lay beneath the skin. She had been dismissed.


    Esme left the Les Horizons Lugubres in a daze.


    It appeared that she had been outmanoeuvred by someone that she had held little respect for at all.


    She drifted like a raft lost at sea. Past merchants hawking wares and beggars on the side of the road. Not once did she stop to examine anyone. Not once did she look at anyone¡¯s wares. There wasn¡¯t a single part of her that paid attention to the snow strewn path her feet took her along.


    She felt empty.


    Esme had thought herself so clever. She had schemed her way to safety. First finding refuge among another of the Chosen, then finding a path to leave them behind and advance her own goals.


    No, no, she would recover from this. It was only a minor setback.


    She arrived back at the Snake¡¯s Nest without even realizing where she had walked to. Esme passed the crowds on the bottom floor ¡ª the establishment had become even more congested once word of Taylor¡¯s presence had spread ¡ª and ascended the stairs to the Chosen¡¯s suite.


    ¡°Y¡¯know I wasn¡¯t sure you¡¯d bother to show up,¡± Songbird grinned at her.


    It was not a pleasant grin.


    Clothing: deliberately dishevelled. Crease lines should not be there.


    Accent: Affected.


    Connect: Prior evidence indicates Songbird acts to put her interlocutor at ease. Current circumstances contradict that.


    Speculation: Songbird is attempting to annoy Esme.


    ¡°Would it cost you too much to wear one of your other masks?¡± she bit back.


    ¡°Nah. Don¡¯t think I will. Y¡¯see, I¡¯ve had you pinned right from the start. Knew you were gonna try something like this.¡±


    Word choice: ¡°Knew,¡± not ¡°suspected.¡± Suggests this outcome was planned.


    Esme ignored the information. Not because it was incorrect, but because she believed that the woman knew enough about Discern to fool it. She had nothing but her own hunch to support that theory, but it was inconceivable that the woman could play her otherwise. She would need to rely on her own wits.


    Esme stalked past Songbird along the madder red carpet and claimed one of the leather seats. If she was to converse with the infuriating woman, then she might as well do it with some small measure of comfort.


    ¡°Allow me to remind you that it is not you but your master that determines who remains if you intend to tell me to leave.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯think you¡¯re special because you have a Name. You believe that the world owes you something. You aren¡¯t and it doesn¡¯t.¡± Songbird sat down opposite to her.


    ¡°A fascinating fable, only it appears that the world itself disagrees. Perhaps you are bitter that you are not chosen yourself?¡±


    ¡°I played you like a fucking fiddle from beginning to end with nothing but my own damn head to do it.¡±


    ¡°And yet you answer like a slave when your master calls.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, Taylor gave me lotsa warnings about you. Makes you wonder. If Taylor knew enough to warn me about all the things you can do, then why wasn¡¯t she the one to sit you down like this?¡±


    ¡°She does not have the strength to make hard decisions.¡±


    Songbird snickered, then laughed. ¡°Thatsa good joke. The woman who let the pissy little brat who hurt her daughter into her house because that brat was in danger can¡¯t make hard decisions. S¡¯not like it would have been easier for her to just leave you out in the cold.¡±


    ¡°I am-¡±


    ¡°Let me lay it out for you,¡± Songbird interjected. ¡°Y¡¯want revenge but y¡¯don¡¯t even have a plan for it. I saw through your betrayal before it even happened. You¡¯re so paranoid that you¡¯ll never find anyone able to meet your standards for trust, and you just tried to knife the only person who¡¯ll care you for in the back. If your brother was still alive, he¡¯d kill himself again from shame at the stupidity you display on a day by day basis. It¡¯s that fucking embarrassing.¡±


    Esme stilled.


    Fury welled up within her. Anger and indignation at the scar that Songbird was digging into. Her mouth opened.


    Songbird was across the room and a knife was pressed against Esme¡¯s throat before she even processed what occurred.


    Her breathing hitched.


    ¡°This is what¡¯s gonna happen. You¡¯ll tell Taylor exactly what you tried to do and apologize. Then you¡¯ll listen to what she has to say. Then you¡¯ll accept whatever judgement she decides to mete out.¡± Songbird patted her cheeks.


    A violent mix of loathing, terror and disgust churned within her. Esme wished to pour vitriol at the woman who dared threaten her. She knew better than to risk speaking.


    Esme couldn¡¯t even nod her own head without nicking her neck on the blade.


    Songbird stood up and started to walk away.


    ¡°Oh, and if you think of even trying to betray Taylor again¡­ I¡¯ll rip out your intestines and feed them to you before you bleed out. Understand?¡±


    Not another word was said.

 Concord 5.08

    ¡°Compassion draws no distinction between the weak or the mighty, Good and Evil, the chosen or the damned. It asks only that you care for everyone. Your family, your friends, the many unnamed faces that you have never met in lands far, far away. Murderers, rapists, the man whose throat you just slit. Animals, insects, everything else that lives. Even the people that you loathe. Even those who have done you great wrongs. It is the easiest virtue to understand, but the hardest virtue to uphold.¡±


    ¡ª Excerpt from chapter 1 of 17, Faces of Virtue, Taylor


    <hr>


    ¡°Evening. We got a new acquaintance.¡± I turned the knob and the purple door creaked open.


    I could tell something was wrong the moment my boot sunk into the red carpet in the parlour.


    Songbird and Esme sat on opposing leather chairs. Esme¡¯s posture was stiff. She was almost like a mannequin. Songbird was the complete opposite. Loose, busy trimming her nails with a curved dagger and humming an off-beat merry tune.


    Vengeance against those who have done me wrong. Vengeance against Songbird.


    The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I asked, breathing out smoke as the rest of my retinue approached from behind.


    Songbird looked up and stared across at Esme, then turned her gaze back towards me.


    Esme swallowed.


    ¡°Songbird laid a knife against my person and then threatened to kill me,¡± she stated.


    I turned my gaze from the black haired troublemaker to the red haired troublemaker and raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°S¡¯pose that¡¯s one way to say I warned her not to betray you again.¡± Songbird yawned.


    I swear I¡¯ve got three kids and Yvette is the most responsible one. No, not just the most responsible. She¡¯s my little angel in comparison to these two. I¡¯m not the best mother either, but¡­ if I¡¯m trouble personified, then they¡¯re my three children.


    I should have felt angry about the entire situation. Instead, I felt weary, resigned. A part of me had always known that something like this would happen. I¡¯d suspected that Esme would betray us despite Songbird¡¯s reassurances. The betrayal was obviously not major else Esme would be nothing more than a mess on the floor but¡­


    That didn¡¯t excuse whatever happened at all. If I¡¯d actually believed that Esme wouldn¡¯t betray us, then maybe it would have hurt.


    The only question that remained was who was at fault. I was leaning towards Esme, but Songbird might also have gone too far.


    ¡°Details,¡± I demanded.


    ¡°She went to the Circle of Thorns to take up their offer and tried to spill all our secrets in the process,¡± Songbird stood up, stretched and put her knife away.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have any secrets.¡±


    Not that it made me happy about what she had allegedly done.


    ¡°S¡¯not the point. S¡¯about what she tried to do, not how effective it was.¡±


    ¡°You stand at the threshold, sister,¡± the voice resonated through me.


    ¡°Right, sorry.¡± I moved forward out of the doorway and allowed the others to enter the room.


    Pascal¡¯s robes brushed against my own as he passed. He gave everyone a warm smile as he moved into the room. Everyone else followed behind him.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to my room,¡± Yvette took one look at the room¡¯s occupants and decided to leave, her previous good mood evaporating.


    I don¡¯t blame you at all.


    Blaise and Michel followed along with Yvette¡¯s decision, leaving the four of us inside.


    ¡°Forgive me if I am intruding on what appears to be a delicate matter, but did I mishear or did this youth attempt to betray your trust?¡±


    ¡°She did,¡± I stated.


    ¡°It cannot be betrayal if I never truly joined my ship to Taylor¡¯s fleet in the first place,¡± the haughty voice interjected.


    Pascal gave me an amused look. The corner of his lips twitched, almost as if he was asking me for an explanation.


    ¡°She¡¯s one of the damned. I¡¯ve been trying to redeem her.¡±


    ¡°I have informed Taylor in the past that I am a hero and not a villain. It is a failure on her part to insist otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know most people burned by the Light don¡¯t think of themselves as heroes,¡± Songbird added.


    ¡°An admirable pursuit.¡± Pascal hummed, then nodded. Some of his hair fell over the green of his eyes. ¡°I trust you do not require me to intervene here, sister?¡±


    ¡°Some advice later.¡± I suggested.


    He would probably be better at this than I was. I wasn¡¯t about to turn down help, but I knew more about Esme to begin with.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you¡¯re gonna bitch about both of us?¡± Songbird put her dainty hands on her hips, pouted and gave me a wink.


    ¡°Depends. I gave you rules,¡± I turned my attention to Esme. ¡°Talk.¡±


    And she began to do so. Pascal was quick to step out of the room. Esme talked about what she had done and why under the hostile glare of Songbird. Songbird was quick to add corrections whenever Esme attempted to let something slip. The discussion ended with Esme accusing Songbird of threatening her, which led to both of them breaking into a heated argument. Voices raised, shouting ensued.


    Well, it was less an argument and more Songbird riling Esme up.


    I rubbed my forehead in thought while I considered how to handle the matter. I could see why Songbird had threatened Esme. The threat did not upset me as much as it should have. Rachel had done much the same with me. I could understand why she did it, even if I did not agree with it. My main problem with her making the threat was the added complications. I was trying to pull Esme out of her downward spiral. This argument just gave me more work.


    I cleared my throat.


    Silence fell over the room.


    ¡°Songbird, help Pascal settle in. I¡¯d like a moment alone with Esme.¡±


    I should have begun lancing this wound sooner, but I hadn¡¯t been confident in my approach. Esme was far more prickly than Lisa and not half as clever, which made talking to her as dangerous as swimming through a polluted bog.


    ¡°Y¡¯know how you¡¯re gonna handle this?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not planning to threaten her with something I don¡¯t intend to carry through,¡± I snapped at her.


    Songbird shrugged, then departed.


    I sunk into the chair opposite to Esme and took a moment to think.


    I didn¡¯t believe that I was able to de-escalate the conflict between Songbird and Esme in the short term. That risked Esme ultimately trying ¡ª and succeeding ¡ª at killing Songbird. Well, it risked it if Songbird was playing the Role of Coil.


    The problem was the Circle of Thorns.


    They complicated the story because I was not sure if they were Coil, or if Songbird was. Songbird could also be playing a whole host of other Roles. She could be Faultline or Cauldron. We¡¯d started off with a story that I knew, but now I wasn¡¯t sure where the pieces fell.


    The wisest choice would be to cut ties with Esme now. She¡¯d had her chance and she¡¯d burned it. The trouble was that she hadn¡¯t crossed enough lines for me to be anywhere near comfortable killing her, and that letting her loose on the streets risked her coming back to haunt us later.


    I also still cared a smidgeon about her, even if that care was buried under a mountain of anger, exasperation, and irritation. I remembered what it was like to be a kid so far out of my league trying to do what I believed what right in a world that was so much bigger than I was. In many ways that was still true.


    It was just that I now had a much better appreciation of exactly how insignificant I was.


    ¡°Do you intend to berate me tonight, or shall I return to my chambers?¡± Esme interrupted my thoughts.


    ¡°Thinking,¡± I raised a hand to forestall her leaving.


    ¡°I am not the ghost of your lost friend come back to haunt you,¡± she bit out.


    It was true. She didn¡¯t share much in common with Lisa. Except for maybe the joy she exhibited in being the smartest person in the room. That might explain why she was always so morose.


    Actually¡­ that could work.


    I let the Light flow through me, and the bird''s-eye view of a city began to coalesce between the two of us. Esme visibly recoiled. I winced internally. The Light was actually bright, I just didn¡¯t notice it. I toned down the intensity.


    Esme liked to be the smartest person in the room. So I¡¯d let her be clever until she hopefully drew the conclusions I wanted.


    ¡°This was the city of my birth. Brockton Bay. In the year two thousand and eleven ¡ª according to the calendar we used ¡ª I went out onto the streets for the first time and tried to be a hero.¡±


    She studied the image, before turning her attention back to me.


    ¡°This digression holds little relevance to the earlier argument,¡± her voice was thick with derision.


    ¡°It¡¯s a puzzle for you,¡± I answered. I tried to give her an encouraging smile, but it took more effort than it was worth. My lips fell flat.


    The moment that I reframed the map as a puzzle, her entire demeanour shifted.


    I¡¯ve got you pegged.


    The image began to change. Lines appeared across it, splitting the map into territories.


    ¡°This is the docks,¡± I pointed to a section that then changed in shade from the comforting white to a mix of red and green. ¡°It was controlled by a group called the ABB. The details of what that stands for don¡¯t matter. Think of them as a small group of villains.¡± The other ABB territories also changed colour. I¡¯d do my best to make this challenge as fair as possible.


    ¡°What is the enigma that you wish for me to unravel?¡±


    ¡°Just give me a moment,¡± I forestalled her. ¡°Let me provide you with all the pieces.¡±


    ¡°You wish for me to assemble an account of what events transpired,¡± Esme surmised.


    ¡°Here is the Downtown,¡± it switched to a mustard orange, ¡°Control over it was contested by a villain called Coil and another group called the Empire.¡± The rest of the map turned navy blue.


    ¡°How many individuals with Names were within the confines of this city?¡±


    ¡°North of fifty,¡± I shrugged.


    ¡°You jest,¡± she snorted, paused, then realized I was serious.


    ¡°It was different there. Don¡¯t compare the circumstances of my city of birth to anything on Calernia. It¡¯s an awful comparison. Just focus on the puzzle. The exercise that I want you to perform is¡­ agnostic towards universal metaphysics.¡±


    ¡°Your ship will sink at sea if the map you are charting course by is wrong,¡± Esme warned.


    ¡°Treat it as a puzzle, don¡¯t think about the differences,¡± I replied, exasperated.


    Esme turned her attention back towards the map.


    ¡°Where were the heroes situated?¡± she asked, her brow creased in thought.


    I continued to describe the scene. Where both the Protectorate and New Wave were based. What I knew of their patrol routes. I named all the heroes and villains, as well as their powers and affiliations ¡ª as best as I knew ¡ª leaving out the complications introduced by Cauldron. They were not a factor in the point that I was trying to make.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°Here is the puzzle I have for you. Young me goes out at night and plans to be a hero. She runs into Lung on her first night out in the docks. The fight takes a turn for the worse, but she¡¯s saved by the Undersiders, who run away when Armsmaster shows up. He incapacitates Lung and takes him away. What happens next?¡±


    ¡°The other players smell blood in the water and move in to capitalize on the ABB¡¯s new vulnerability,¡± Esme replied. ¡°The Empire has the largest roster. I would expect them to be the ones to risk expanding first.¡± She paused and bit her lip, then continued, ¡°Perhaps Victor would act as a scout for a forward vanguard in coordination with Cricket. Those were the two you labelled as having abilities suited towards the gathering of information.¡±


    That was not quite how I had described their abilities, but sure. If she wanted to interpret their abilities that way.


    ¡°Right. Turns out that the ABB¡¯s explosive wizard decided it would be a good idea to build up her own reputation based on fear. This is what happened next¡­¡±


    We spent over an hour playing through a simulation of the life of Taylor Hebert, the aspiring hero. Esme would predict what she thought would happen. I would lay out what actually happened. Esme would argue about what I should have done instead, or criticize the actions of everyone involved. I would correct her misapprehensions about what people were capable of, or why they chose to act in a specific way. Some of it was based on speculation on my part, the rest was based on candid discussions I¡¯d had with people like Clockblocker.


    Information was added as needed. Statistics on parahumans, the role of the protectorate, the fact that people shied away from killing as a rule. None of it was important to the point that I was trying to make, but it did help Esme draw better conclusions.


    Step by step, my past was played out.


    I was about to reach the arrival of Leviathan when Esme spoke up.


    ¡°I have gleaned the purpose of this demonstration now,¡± Esme did not sound pleased at whatever revelation she had come to.


    ¡°Explain.¡± I was exhausted on the inside.


    ¡°This is an attempt on your part to illustrate a long term sequence of consequences as a direct result of the actions of a single individual. While it would be inaccurate to lay full responsibility for the chain of events at your feet, they would not have occurred as they did without your involvement,¡± she stated.


    ¡°That¡¯s one lesson to take away from it,¡± I agreed.


    It was not the one that I wanted her to learn.


    She tossed her black hair back and scowled. ¡°No, that is not what you wished for me to intuit. You desired for me to draw parallels between the ill-informed decisions you made in the past and my own quest for vengeance.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s another lesson you could learn.¡±


    ¡°You fail to recognize the inherent dissimilarity in our circumstances and not only in terms of the disparity of means,¡± she argued.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°The most significant conclusion I have drawn from that exercise is proper contextualization for your own poor decision-making. Your past colours every choice you make. How much better would your nation have been if the hero you named Eidolon had spent say a month doing nothing more than finding and executing every villain within the land of America? It is according to your own words that few could have withstood him had he chosen to do so. This is a much more accurate comparison to your present day circumstances. You fill the same Role as Eidolon would and are just as impotent.¡±


    And just when I thought I was getting somewhere with her.


    ¡°Pretend for a moment that you were me, and you took vengeance on every person that you believe deserves it. What happens next? How many of them had brothers and sisters just like you did? How many of them try to do the same to you?¡±


    ¡°Then they would find themselves sailing off the same cliff as their brethren for attempting to stay my judgement,¡± she replied serenely.


    ¡°And where does all of this end? How many die? What does the Principate look like by the time you are done?¡±


    ¡°It ends when my thirst for vengeance is quenched.¡±


    ¡°The difference between your conviction and mine is that people will actually follow me,¡± I told Esme. ¡°Most people don¡¯t care for vengeance. They want to have a good life, raise a family, and die of old age in the comforts of a home. I¡¯m able to promise them all of that. That I will be there and take care of them. All you promise them is death at the end of a blade.¡±


    She looked like she was about to protest again. I didn¡¯t give her the chance.


    ¡°The best revenge is growing past your tormentors. I speak from experience. Do you want to belong to them? Because right now, you do. What does it mean if every decision you make is made based on their wishes? It means they own you.¡± I emphasized.


    ¡°Like the Gods own you?¡± Esme sneered back.


    I knew what she meant. I chose to respond as if I had misinterpreted what she said. It was a creative redefinition of the term ownership that my mother would have scolded me for. If Esme wanted to try to cut me with her words, then she could slide along the edge of her own blade.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I shrugged. ¡°That was my choice. I¡¯d rather belong to the people that I love and the Gods that I worship than belong to anyone else. Isn¡¯t the same true for you, or are you happy being owned by the Gods Below?¡± I paused for breath.


    I felt my family hug me tighter as I spoke, and mentally returned the gesture.


    ¡°The Gods Below have no claim on me,¡± Esme protested.


    ¡°Don¡¯t they? They empowered you, that gives them some claim. You¡¯re one of their champions. Belonging to someone else doesn¡¯t always have to be negative, provided it¡¯s your own choice. It¡¯s a choice we all make when we love someone. Loving someone means giving a part of yourselves to them that you will never get back.¡±


    My memories of everyone I cared about on Earth Bet hurt to think about in a good way now that they were fully returned to me.


    And I knew that Esme¡¯s brother had taken a piece of her into the grave with him.


    Esme stilled.


    ¡°When I told you that there was nothing you could say to me that would hurt me, I meant it. What would your brother want for you, Esme? Would he want you pursuing this endless quest for vengeance against the world, or would he want you to try to find peace?¡±


    ¡°Do not drag his memory into this discussion,¡± Esme did her best to keep her voice steady, but I could hear the warble.


    ¡°What would he think about you now? Would he be happy that you have no friends and are attacking the only people who are trying to help you?¡±


    Esme gripped her legs tight and her face had gone stiffer than stone.


    Do I risk it?


    Her quest for vengeance had not changed, and I doubted that it would any time soon. Songbird had been added to it, and everything had been complicated by that. I wasn¡¯t certain of how I would untangle the mess that had been made.


    But¡­


    It was evident to me that she wasn¡¯t going to be the one to reach out. I would have to be the one to push this.


    So I got up and knelt down on the ground beside her chair. I made sure to keep my head below hers. It was a deliberate ploy to try to reassure her, give her a sense of control. I knew that she would be able to read through it, but it should be no less effective because of that.


    Then I tried to give her a hug.


    She flinched at the contact and pulled away.


    ¡°This is a blatant attempt to do me harm,¡± she fumed.


    I raised an eyebrow at her.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about me trying to harm you. I don¡¯t like hurting people. I¡¯m not going to use anything you tell me against you, or share it with anyone else. Nothing we talk about leaves this room. I¡¯m just trying to make you feel better. Promise.¡±


    ¡°It could be a ploy to earn my trust and then backstab me later.¡±


    This girl is so paranoid.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been tortured. Broken my spine. Lost my lower body once. Lost an arm more than once, been blind, died twice and spent over a week in a state of non-existence. I can guarantee you that it¡¯s all horrifying, and I wouldn¡¯t wish it on anyone else. I¡¯d just kill you if the two of us ever came into serious conflict. There is no reason to torment anyone. Your death would be quick and painless. It would be over before you even blinked.¡±


    Esme did not look convinced.


    ¡°Nobody worth knowing is going to judge you for accepting a hug from me,¡± I cajoled. ¡°Unless you¡¯re trying to pad your reputation with something like ¡®too Evil to be hugged by a hero of Compassion.¡¯¡±


    She caved in and accepted the hug. It was awkward with the elevation difference, and it felt a bit like hugging a feral cat that wasn¡¯t sure if it was about to be attacked.


    I sent a silent prayer of thanks to my Gods that Esme had accepted my attempt to comfort her.


    It was so convenient that most of the time I was able to be able to be nice to people and have them just¡­ take my words at face value. Granted, it was inconvenient when I needed people to consider me a threat. But having the reputation of a hero of Compassion was so useful when I was actually trying to help someone.


    ¡°You do not lie when you claim that I am one of the damned,¡± she hissed as I let go.


    The words sounded like acid on her lips.


    A single tear worked its way down her right cheek.


    Took you long enough.


    ¡°The Light burns you,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°I would rather take justice into my own hands than not have justice at all.¡±


    ¡°Tell you what,¡± I offered her my palm. ¡°Let¡¯s make a bet. I¡¯ll bet you that if you follow along with my advice and try to fit in with the others, you¡¯ll find that you don¡¯t actually want vengeance.¡±


    Esme looked at my hand as if it was a venomous snake. She reached forward hesitantly, paused, then clasped it with her own.


    I win.


    ¡°I swore to myself that one day I would have vengeance. There is nothing you can do to sway me from that path. You are a kind-hearted fool, and when the time comes I shall take my leave from your company. I won¡¯t join my ship to a fleet which is destined to sink.¡±


    Esme continued to pontificate. I listened with one open ear. It was rude of me to do, but I was far too distracted. Her choice had me smiling to myself madly on the inside. I could do this. I could redeem Esme. It would take time. It would be an uphill battle. I was sure that redirecting her anger at Songbird would be a challenge on its own. But¡­ I knew that in the long run if she just kept following this road then I had already won.


    This was a story.


    And she decided to take the hand that I offered when I had extended it to her.


    <hr>


    I went searching for the others once our talk had concluded. Esme went to sleep. Yvette was in her room, Songbird was downstairs involved in some debauchery with Michel and Blaise, and Roland was still out on his current mission. Pascal had gone to sleep at the first moment he could. His trip on the road had allegedly been fatiguing. I was looking forward to talking more with him in the future.


    I interrupted Songbird ¡ª pulled her off the lap of a man I didn¡¯t recognize ¡ª and dragged her upstairs. It may have been late in the evening, but I wanted to take a moment to talk about whatever plans she had.


    It wasn¡¯t long until she was throwing knives at a target while we talked.


    Thunk.


    The beginnings of a dream had seeded itself within her. Her dream felt bubbly, almost flirtatious.


    Tell a lie so big that the world itself believes it.


    What surprised me was how much detail there was to it. She¡¯d put some thought to it, planned it out. It had a lot of conditions to it, and one of them was that I approved of the lie that she told. I got the sense that it was more because she found the challenge of trying to tell a lie that I approved of more fun than that she actually cared about the rules that I¡¯d laid down.


    That was good enough for me.


    Thunk.


    It would be nice if people were good because they believed that they should be, but I knew that wouldn¡¯t be enough to motivate everyone. I¡¯d be willing to live with other reasons for being good as an acceptable compromise.


    ¡°Y¡¯really not willing to be an Angel?¡± she asked.


    Thunk.


    ¡°Not if there¡¯s any other choice.¡±


    Thunk.


    ¡°What if it saves lives?¡± she pressed.


    I stopped to think about it. The idea gnawed at me. I really did not like it.


    ¡°Why do you believe it¡¯s necessary now?¡±


    ¡°Pascal showed up. Now there are two priests. Either he¡¯s prob¡¯ly gonna die, or one of you¡¯ll play a different Role.¡±


    ¡°And he can¡¯t be an Angel,¡± I surmised.


    ¡°S¡¯not ideal, but we can¡¯t afford Role overlap here, except in stories that you¡¯ll not be happy with.¡±


    ¡°Which ones?¡±


    ¡°The priest and the priestess get married and live happily ever after,¡± she spoke in a creepy child¡¯s voice.


    ¡°He¡¯s not my type,¡± I shuddered.


    ¡°I know,¡± Songbird snickered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll consider the Role. Only if you can¡¯t think of anything else. Only if it becomes necessary to keep people alive,¡± I sighed.


    Both of us paused when we heard a rattling noise from the shutters. We turned towards them. Songbird readied a knife. Roland fell through them into the room with a grimace of pain on his face.


    I was across the red carpet and beside him before I knew it and busy healing his wounds.


    Both his leather jacket and hair were scorched. Pockets were torn, the silks he normally had draped over his shoulders were in tatters, and his eyebrows were missing. His face was a mess of yellow and purple bruising, and blood stained his trousers.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I demanded.


    I didn¡¯t bother asking about his choice of entrance. He obviously believed that he could not afford to be seen. It would take some effort to repair his improvised door, but¡­ it could be done.


    ¡°The security around the Starlit Cloister is far more alert than during my previous attempts at spiriting away their accounts. I was able to infiltrate the compound and follow Esme¡¯s instructions, however it appears that the contents of both the offices and the vaults were relocated elsewhere. I do not believe that I will be able to bypass the defences on my own another time without taking lives during the heist,¡± Roland explained.


    My attention drifted towards Songbird.


    ¡°S¡¯not gonna be a problem.¡±


    She had sat down on the furthest chair, crossed her arms and folded her legs. She did not look concerned at all.


    My blood started to boil. Less because of Roland¡¯s injuries ¡ª they were just a part of our line of work ¡ª and more because of Songbird¡¯s attitude towards them.


    ¡°This seems like a problem to me,¡± I retorted.


    ¡°His injuries weren¡¯t expected and are an unpleasant surprise,¡± she acceded. ¡°The move¡¯s fine, though. Actually makes it easier to get what we want. I¡¯d¡¯ve been happy if he did grab the documents on this try, but I wasn¡¯t counting on it.¡±


    I stopped. Took a moment to breathe. Then considered what she might mean.


    ¡°It¡¯s easier to steal objects in transit than things under guard,¡± I surmised.


    ¡°Knew that you¡¯d get it. We needed them to have a reason to move those accounts. They prob¡¯ly just shifted everything of value around after the last try, but now they know what we want.¡±


    ¡°So you staged multiple robberies.¡±


    ¡°It is a more convoluted scheme than I would have opted for on my own,¡± Roland added, wincing. ¡°The idea has merit. You provided them with a motivation to relocate their accounts by allowing them insight into what it was that I sought to obtain and demonstrating that I am capable of stealing it.¡±


    ¡°We need to know where they''re being moved to,¡± I interjected.


    The idea was only worthwhile if we could capitalize on it.


    ¡°Y¡¯don¡¯t need to worry about that part,¡± Songbird¡¯s smile could have sliced through steel. ¡°I¡¯ve come to an agreement with the Circle of Thorns. They helped me out as a courtesy. I know where those documents are being moved. There¡¯s only one more heist that needs doing, and we¡¯re gonna carry it out.¡±


    A part of me was glad that Songbird was not around when I was sixteen. If she could come up with plans like this and had been a part of my first team, there was no telling what trouble the two of us would have come up with.


    The rest of me was just glad that it seemed like Songbird was sticking to her word after all.

 Concord 5.0f

    ¡°My Good friends. Enclosed in this letter is the location of the Emperor¡¯s next parade. I trust you know what to do with this information.¡±


    ¡ª Reverend Cirque of the Church of Praesi Penitents, later revealed to have been Dread Emperor Traitorous


    <hr>


    ¡°I wanted to hear about your complaints against the House of Light,¡± the raven haired woman kneeling across from him inquired.


    Both of them rose to their feet. Taylor sank into one of the seats. Pascal sat down opposite her.


    Dawn had arrived, and Taylor had invited Pascal to pray with her. The gesture came as a surprise. She had been so earnest when making the offer. He had accepted the request in the spirit that she had extended it to him, but was not certain if he should read any further meaning into it.


    ¡°You offered me shelter without knowing the purpose I strive for?¡± he replied, basking in her gentle aura.


    ¡°Why not?¡± she mumbled into her shoulder. Her attention was focused on straightening out creases in her robe.


    Did she truly not consider that their purposes might be opposed instead of shared? It was commonplace for heroes in the Principate to accuse others of villainy for slights as small as misreading a map. No, to believe that the thought had not occurred to her would be to cast doubt upon her intelligence. Pascal had glimpsed enough of Taylor to know that while she was not the brightest star in the night sky, she was far from the dimmest one.


    It was far more plausible that she had considered the matter and deemed the possibility to be irrelevant.


    ¡°Darkness has taken root within the halls of our cathedrals. It has been long since the Proceran House of Light has been an institution for the Gods.¡±


    ¡°What do you want to do about it?¡± she sounded exasperated.


    The light pitter-patter of feet indicated that one of the children approached the amaranth door.


    ¡°The House of Light in Callow has no internal hierarchy. We are all equal before our Gods, and our churches should reflect this.¡±


    It was only the first of many reforms that Pascal wished to undertake.


    ¡°I disagree,¡± Taylor raised a hand. ¡°It¡¯s a lack of proper hierarchies that caused these problems.¡±


    ¡°Ma, can you help me make sense of this rune?¡± The blonde haired form of Yvette called out.


    It¡¯s the wizard¡¯s fault.


    Pascal suppressed the instinctive desire to sneer. He was Alamans, and his parents had taught him better. He would face the enemy with a smile on his face and the sharpest of manners. To do anything else would be improper.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come in a bit, Yvie. I¡¯m just talking to Pascal, okay?¡± Taylor replied to her daughter.


    Besides, Yvette would give up magic and embrace the Light some day in the near future. Her mother was the champion of Compassion and if anyone could guide those who were damned by the taint of Below back into the Light it would be her. It was admirable of her to have taken two of them under her wing.


    ¡°The Holies are a Proceran institu-¡± Pascal pressed his lips into a thin line as Taylor cut him off.


    Despite her accent, it was clear to him that she was not Alamans. She often failed to observe proper courtesies.


    ¡°The Holies are not a recognized organizational structure. Not even the Princes in the Principate really understand who they are or what they can do. It took me a lot of effort to learn their identities, and I¡¯ve been actively looking for the information. They don¡¯t have a proper mandate. They don¡¯t have a list of responsibilities and privileges. While they do wield power and set church policy, the ability to do so is all unofficially handed to them. This lack of formal structure is what has allowed corruption to take root within the Proceran House of Light. When the rules aren¡¯t well-defined, then there is plenty of space for people to carve up their own little fiefdoms.¡±


    ¡°Faith in the Gods is what earns one entry into heaven, not the whims of the church,¡± he countered.


    And those born with the curse of magic are destined to serve the Gods Below.


    He left the other half of his own personal creed unsaid. It was rare for one to forsake sorcery and embrace the Light instead. They were the blessed few who saw magic for the blight that it was. Half a dozen houses in his neighbourhood had disappeared to the desolation when a newly awakened mage had reached beyond their ambitions over a decade past. It was a common tragedy in the Principate. Pascal had sworn himself to the Gods Above less than a day later.


    ¡°Do you know why I invited you to pray with me?¡± Taylor changed the topic.


    Pascal hummed as he pondered the question. It was evident that she believed the digression pertinent to their argument, and so he would engage with it.


    ¡°You find solace in the company of others,¡± he rumbled in reply.


    ¡°That¡¯s a big part of it,¡± she agreed. ¡°It¡¯s mostly because I believe that community is one of the keystones of our faith.¡±


    ¡°The Book of All Things makes no claims as to how the faithful should be organized,¡± he disagreed. ¡°When we invite the House of Light into the halls of power, we also invite temptation into the hearts of the clergy.¡±


    She looked like she was about to say something, then she held her tongue. There was an awkward lull. It was some time before she spoke again. Her tone was strained. Every word was chosen with care.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t always devoted to the Gods Above. I converted. It was the community that made me feel like I belonged and started me on my journey of religious discovery. The church as an organization played a big part of that, and it¡¯s the largest difference between those who worship the Gods Above and those who worship the Gods Below. We do things together as a community. We care about each other. Our faith might be personal, but we express it as a group.¡±


    ¡°A community does not need to be structured according to a hierarchy,¡± he chastised.


    ¡°It does once it¡¯s large enough,¡± Taylor retorted.


    ¡°Each church is capable of functioning within its own community. It does not require the support of a larger structure to exist. We purge temptation from the clergy by divesting the Proceran House of Light of material wealth.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t. The problem just becomes localized. Some churches will be fine with bending rules. Others won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°The laws of the land would curb such abuses,¡± he intoned in reply.


    ¡°Only so long as it¡¯s in the interest of the Princes. You¡¯re giving away the church¡¯s power to enforce its own rules. Say a noble wants an inconvenient heir declared illegitimate. He offers the priests a generous donation to do so. What happens?¡± Her voice was strained.


    It sounded as if she could not even believe the ideas that he was imparting.


    ¡°This exact series of events occurs day by day under the shelter of the current system,¡± Pascal criticized.


    ¡°S¡¯pose I¡¯m interrupting a religious argument?¡± Songbird hummed as she strolled into the room.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Taylor replied.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, it would help if y¡¯told Pascal that you plan to give the church more power.¡±


    ¡°Considering his current stance¡­¡± Taylor trailed off.


    ¡°M¡¯just saying. Y¡¯should let him know what you want, not just try to change what he wants. You¡¯ll prob¡¯ly find he¡¯s more amenable to your ideas when he actually knows what it is that you want.¡±


    Taylor digested the piece of diplomatic wisdom, before turning her large brown eyes back towards him.


    ¡°I want to empower the church. Give us legal authority over heroes. I also want to restore our right to conscripting soldiers, as well as make a few more organizational changes.¡±


    ¡°The Highest Assembly would never ratify the changes that you wish to bring,¡± Pascal intoned. ¡°The right to conscription alone would threaten another Liturgical War.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, I thought so as well, but then I listened to everything else Taylor had to say.¡±


    Songbird walked over to one of the chair beside him and took a seat. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a deck of cards, and then began to shuffle absently.


    ¡°There would be a lot of restrictions. The¡­ paladins would be required to take a whole host of oaths and have expected duties. Their primary purpose would be conflict with villains. An elite unit with a much more specialized focus.¡±


    Taylor¡¯s interest in establishing an armed force came as a surprise to Pascal. He would not have expected ambitions in that direction from one of Compassion¡¯s heroes. While they were undoubtedly the most virtuous of heroes, they were also the most divorced from reality. He received her political ambitions like a light out in the wilderness during a cold winter night. Perhaps she was more clear-sighted than most of her lot.


    ¡°This does not preclude them participating in traditional warfare.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Taylor grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a mess, but it¡¯s not what I wanted to talk about. The organizational changes are what would interest you. I want to define the hierarchy within the House of Light properly. Who the leaders are, what their duties entail, what they can and cannot do and what the punishments are for overstepping. I also want to make the House of Light¡¯s accounts public. We are here to serve the people, and that involves some level of transparency.¡±


    Their discussion continued. Pascal listened and asked questions. Taylor clarified what it was that she intended to achieve. They were not the kinds of reforms that Pascal had set out to accomplish, but¡­ they were an acceptable set of alternatives.


    He was willing to entertain the idea of an empowered House of Light solely because of its potential effectiveness in rooting out sorcery. Mud obscured the pool of his thoughts when he considered whether such an authority could purge the corruption from the Church.


    It was half a bell later when Songbird reminded Taylor of her promise to her daughter as well as her scheduled meeting with Sister Adelie. The younger priestess apologized profusely, then was quick to take her leave from their talks.


    Pascal put the matter out of his mind and instead considered the differences in their perspectives. The two of them could work together. Both of them championed the same house. They just argued over what colours they should paint the walls.


    Perhaps Taylor was correct. Perhaps the House of Light did require a guiding hand selected from among the Chosen.


    It only remained to be seen whether that hand should be hers, or his own.


    <hr>


    Roland examined the white roofed caravan in the distance from where he lay with his legs stretched away from the sloped lip of a tiled mansion rooftop. His perch towered over twenty feet tall. A phantom pain twinged in his left leg behind him. He dismissed it from his thoughts. Taylor¡¯s skill at mending wounds went far beyond the talents of other priests, and yet that did nothing to quiet the voice in his head. A small devil whispered poisonous thoughts at the back of his mind and insisted that he was still injured.


    Roland had been taking the measure of the priesthood for the past few days in preparation for this heist. It had made for an exhausting task to examine the path and identify vulnerabilities in their route. Roland would have preferred for more turns of the hourglass, but fate was ever a fickle mistress. He would play the game with the hand that he was dealt, even if the cards were hyenas and the enemies were snakes.


    The caravan crawled off the sinuous path trailing away from the Starlit Cloister and onto one of Salia¡¯s main thoroughfares at a snail¡¯s pace. Four surly mules plodded along in front of it, hauling their heavy cargo.


    Nothing about the caravan appeared to be out of the ordinary at first glance.


    Two white robed priests escorted it on either side. Neither carried any weapons. They strode along the snow swept path with an air of nonchalance that suggested this was merely another delivery of scented candles and parchments on their way to be sold at one of the open markets.


    The priests had even maintained their existing schedule according to Songbird. Roland did not have the means to verify that claim, and so he would take her at her word. It was only once he began to consider the surrounding waters that the dangers that lurked in the depths showed their teeth.


    Roland¡¯s brown eyes examined the crowd.


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    They were the first irregularity.


    Breath fogged the air before him. Snow was piled into shallow banks beside the road. Windows were frozen and despite the best efforts of the peasantry the cobbled road was slick with ice.


    The sky above might be clear, but the ground below was cold.


    There shouldn¡¯t be a crowd present at all.


    The caravan approached an intersection and waited while a group of agitated horsemen passed perpendicular to them. It was only a few heartbeats before they followed behind. The convoy ambled out of the shadow of the balcony of an elegant three-storey mansion and into the shadow of the building Roland roosted on.


    It was time for him to set the balls rolling down the mountain.


    Roland only prayed that the avalanche did not claim him as it began.


    He reached into his now scorched coat and touched his fingers to a rune, then pulled out one of his last remaining vials from Refuge. It contained an acrid yellow dust that the Concocter had warned him not to inhale.


    Roland held his breath, removed the stopper and tossed the powder. It traced a path that was almost imperceptible as it arched through the air down onto the snow before the caravan.


    Blinding vermilion flames erupted less than ten heartbeats later.


    The mules reared back and drew to a halt.


    Roland began to worm his way across the rooftop. He slithered in the direction of the caravan, chipping away at the distance between himself and the prize that he sought.


    The conflagration was the signal for the distraction that he had hired.


    Eight rogues walked out of the crowd and onto either side of the street. Half stood on one side of the convoy, the other half on the other. Roland¡¯s purse was far lighter than it had been a few days before. Not many were willing to earn the ire of the clergy.


    ¡°My friends,¡± one of the rogues spread her arms and declared mournfully, ¡°Business is lean this year. This road costs much for us to keep safe, and¡­ we¡¯re here to collect our fee.¡±


    ¡°I will only warn you once, rapscallion. Stand aside. You risk more than the prince¡¯s justice for interfering with our mission,¡± the leading priest retorted.


    The rogue puffed out her chest, raised a hand and flicked the feather of her hat, then shook her head.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I can¡¯t do that,¡± she said in a cheerful tone. ¡°Move in boys and girls. It¡¯s time to see what tribute the priests prepared for us.¡±


    A score of warrior monks stepped out of the surrounding crowd to support the priests. Conflict erupted between both parties.


    Light flashed and barriers materialized. Roland knew that he had not bought himself much time, and thus he needed to act with haste. While the priests would not harm any of the rogues, the same could not be said for the monks.


    Roland looked over the edge of the rooftop towards the caravan in the distance. He fished a silver ring with an amber gemstone socketed into it out of his coat. It was of Pelagian make and bestowed lightness upon any who offered it a gift of blood.


    Roland withdrew a needle next, pricked his finger, and allowed a drop of blood to fall onto the gem.


    The magic within it thrummed as he put the ring on. A comfortable blue orb seeded itself within him, then blossomed only heartbeats later. He called upon it with Use, then climbed to his feet and took a running leap off the roof.


    It often surprised Roland how rare it was for people to turn their eyes to the sky and watch for trouble above.


    He sailed through the heavens ¡ª avoiding the m¨ºl¨¦e below entirely ¡ª and landed with a light thud on the caravan¡¯s roof, then summoned forth his dragon oak rod. It was not intended for the purpose he was intending to use it for, but it would achieve his ends nonetheless. A wide cone of flames extended from the tip and punched a wagon wheel sized hole into the caravan roof.


    The interior of the wagon shook as Roland dropped in from the entrance he had just carved.


    There was a single guard situated within the caravan. The man did not even have time to bellow a warning before a knock to the head left him out cold.


    There were many containers stacked neatly one on top of the other within. Roland was quick to open them and examine their contents. The accounts that Taylor searched for were safely contained inside. Satisfied, he reached within and began to pull them out and spirit them away into his storage space.


    It was not long before the conflict outside the caravan came to an abrupt end. Roland sent up a quiet prayer of thanks when the combatants outside chose not to investigate the interior of the convoy, and instead ordered the mules to begin plodding along once more. It seemed that providence was with him today.


    Roland¡¯s nerves frayed. There were more books than he had expected, and the hourglass had already been turned. It was a tense few moments as he gathered the evidence that Taylor sought.


    A few hundred heartbeats later and the convoy came to a halt once again. The steady thud of footsteps approached the caravan door. The final book entered his densely packed storage space. Roland hoisted himself up through the hole in the roof, then jumped off the side and sprinted down a narrow street.


    The raised voices of angry priests echoed out as they discovered his theft.


    All of them broke into pursuit.


    A barrier of Light manifested before him and was blasted aside by his rod. Another wall of Light appeared. This one was thicker and absorbed his blow. Roland touched his hand to a rune on his coat, and the rod disappeared. A sapphire ring manifested on a finger in its place.


    Roland grimaced and cradled the orb in his mind gingerly. The ring cracked as heat scalded through his body. It was a flawed enchantment, and this was its final use. His feet left the ground. Roland soared above the barrier. His hand was already reaching towards the snake rune on his bracers before he landed on the other side. Healing energy pulsed through him as he dropped and rolled.


    Groaning, he stood and took a path to his left past a bakery, then dashed down the street to the right of it between a smithy and a stable. Another turn, this time into a busier road. He brushed past several civilians who looked at him in puzzlement. The clergy let out cries of frustration in response.


    Roland reached into his coat and pulled out a phial of dark powder and hurled it against the ground. The phial shattered and the street was enveloped in a midnight blackness. It was not long until rays of Light shattered the distraction he made.


    The priests trailed behind like bloodhounds with a scent.


    It was a gruelling quarter of an hour and numerous lost priceless artefacts later when Roland at last lost his tail. He should have felt victorious, but instead found that he could only lament the damage that Taylor¡¯s mission did to his collection.


    Roland at last returned to the Snake¡¯s Nest. He stopped his way past the regulars, up the stairs, and collapsed into one of the chairs.


    It was time to learn what the next stage of the scheme entailed and how much more wealth he could expect to lose.


    <hr>


    ¡°The poison runs deeper than even I had considered it would,¡± Pascal mused.


    He licked his index finger, then turned the page of the account set on the desk before him. It was a ledger detailing transactions which had been labelled ¡°Proof of Piety¡± according to the Holies.


    ¡°It¡¯s bad,¡± Taylor agreed from his right.


    Both of them read side by side.


    Taylor was examining an older, faded manuscript. It was no less damning, despite coming from an earlier age and being written in an archaic dialect.


    ¡°Right. We¡¯ll need to have this all copied and dropped off at the royal magistrates,¡± Songbird added from the opposite side of the table.


    Her fingers tapped an off beat tune on the oaken surface as she pondered their situation.


    ¡°Have you concocted a scheme that allows us to do so in a way that avoids bringing trouble to our doors?¡± Roland asked from Songbird¡¯s right.


    Roland is not a wizard.


    It was an effort for Pascal to remember that. The man wielded sorcery despite not having the curse for it. It was a noble calling to seize the tools of the enemy and turn their weapons against them, but it still stained Roland¡¯s hands in the process.


    ¡°S¡¯not hard. Pascal will do it. He¡¯ll get in some trouble for it, but that¡¯s fine. We need some attention. He¡¯ll need to move somewhere else when he starts denouncing the Holies since we can¡¯t be connected to him, but that¡¯s about it.¡±


    ¡°Will that work?¡± Taylor frowned. ¡°The nobility have just as much of an incentive to kill him as the Holies do.¡±


    ¡°Taylor has the right of it,¡± Pascal agreed, flipping to another page. ¡°The evidence is almost as damning for them as it is for the Holies.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll have copies made, then distribute them,¡± Songbird waved a hand at him dismissively. ¡°Prob¡¯ly need to drop some of them off with the Silver Letters, then the rest with independent parties. The Princes only have power so long as they have a reputation. We¡¯ll drag theirs through the mud.¡±


    ¡°Is that wise?¡± Taylor asked.


    Her eyes were half lidded and ringed from exhaustion. She put down the manuscript she was reading, sat down in a chair behind her, and ran her fingers through her raven hair in consternation.


    ¡°You concern yourself so much with the rocks beyond the horizon that you do not consider the storm our ship sails between in the present,¡± Esme criticized Taylor from the leather chair on Roland¡¯s right.


    All five of them had been hard at work sifting through the evidence since Roland had returned with it in his possession. The sun had long since set, and they read by the light that Taylor emitted.


    ¡°Procer is already in a state of civil war,¡± Pascal told Taylor gently. ¡°We are not capable of making the situation worse than it already is.¡±


    ¡°So the plan remains the same then?¡± Taylor sighed.


    ¡°S¡¯not like we need to change anything,¡± Songbird smiled at Taylor. ¡°Y¡¯knew there was something wrong with the Holies, now you just know what.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting so much of the House of Light¡¯s income to come from bribery and corruption,¡± Taylor muttered, then shook her head.


    ¡°¡®Proof of Piety,¡¯ remember, not bribes. Gotta call it by the official name,¡± Songbird chortled to herself.


    ¡°And yet now that you have ample proof of the muck below the waterline, you are still unwilling to clean the bilge water from the church?¡± Esme criticized.


    ¡°S¡¯not much about it that surprises me. Actually, I lie. They¡¯re not quite able to choose who is in charge, but s¡¯alot closer than I¡¯d have thought. Their income is the smallest part of their power.¡±


    ¡°I agree that the extent of our troubles comes as a surprise. It would not occur to me how much coin there is to be made through legitimizing illegitimate contracts,¡± Roland interjected as he put down one tome and picked up another. ¡°However, I hold that a more measured response would be more appropriate.¡±


    ¡°Does the idea of performing similar investigations into the nobility interest you at all, Roland? You have finished fishing the waters of the church, why not cast your net into other waters?¡± Esme leaned in close to Roland and laid a dainty hand on his charred coat.


    ¡°We have enough troubles on our wagon to occupy us for some time. We do not need to burden ourselves with anything else,¡± Roland pulled away from Esme.


    Esme flushed and turned away, hiding her head behind her hair.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, there¡¯s a better way to punish them than killing them, Esme. Send them up north. They¡¯ll hate every moment of it and actually do good helping against the Dead King.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine with that,¡± Taylor stated, then paused. ¡°Sorcerers should also be allowed to heal. I want to revise the archaic restrictions on wizard healing. They¡¯re superstitious and do more harm than good.¡±


    It took effort for Pascal to hold his tongue. It had come as a disappointment to Pascal to learn that none of his compatriots shared his disdain for those tainted with magic. Sorcery was surely a curse from Below. Pascal held that those who wielded profane powers should be extended no more trust than they already possessed.


    ¡°The diabolists to the east have wrought great evils with sorcery. Perhaps it is best to adhere to the wisdom of the past and allow those restrictions to remain in place,¡± Pascal suggested.


    Everyone around the table stiffened.


    ¡°Y¡¯know Yvette and Roland both use magic?¡± Songbird asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking at him.


    ¡°While I do make use of the magic of others, it is not truly my own,¡± Roland protested.


    ¡°Magic tempts all who possess it to serve the Gods Below. The chosen who wield it are the few who can be trusted to be responsible with it, and even they are not beyond reproach,¡± Pascal asserted.


    Taylor muttered something incomprehensible about ¡°Martin Luther¡± and ¡°Jews¡± under her breath. Pascal did not follow the lay of her thoughts.


    It was Pascal¡¯s belief that even the chosen who wielded magic were truly numbered among the damned. The Light was anathema to magic. If magic was not the domain of the Gods Below, then the Light would not counter it. There were many easily observed phenomena which demonstrated that magic was Evil. Those who thought otherwise decided to close their eyes to the truth.


    ¡°Those with the power to reshape reality as they will cannot be trusted to rule over those who cannot. Sorcerers swim in the same waters as priests,¡± Esme agreed.


    It disappointed Pascal that the only other member of their group who understood the dangers posed by sorcery was one of the damned.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, I wasn¡¯t counting on there being two of them.¡± Songbird picked up another book and started to page through it.


    ¡°Magic is a tool. It isn¡¯t aligned with Above or Below, it just is,¡± Taylor snapped.


    ¡°How can you believe as much when it is the blade most often drawn by Evil,¡± he replied.


    ¡°I used to have the gift. Does that make me Evil?¡± she challenged.


    ¡°Do you still possess the gift now, or did you sacrifice it to a higher calling?¡± Pascal inquired.


    Taylor was not bereft of wits. It would take a monumental effort to change her mind, but it was imperative to educate the younger generation about the perils of sorcery.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t give it up because it was Evil. Even the Angels on my shoulders don¡¯t call magic Evil. You surrender magic to Evil by declaring it as such.¡± Taylor hugged herself.


    It was something that she did frequently without being aware that she did it. Pascal suspected she was trying to hug the Angels that watched over her. He was disappointed in her current beliefs regarding the nature of magic, but it only confirmed the suspicions that had already taken root within him.


    Taylor was not the correct person to lead the House of Light unless her convictions concerning magic changed. Pascal would make the effort to do so, but acknowledged the implicit unlikelihood of succeeding.


    The Choir of Compassion would not turn away from anyone, and so it stood to reason that she would not either. Restrictions against magic would lessen under her guidance, when the only correct decision would be to attempt to enact a total ban on sorcery.


    ¡°It should come as no surprise that our new acquaintance also has prejudices of his own,¡± Roland muttered.


    ¡°It is best for us to turn our attention back towards our task,¡± Pascal deflected.


    Pascal lamented that his allies were blind to the Evils of sorcery. They were not able to recognize it for what it was. A dark temptation that had been seeded by the Gods Below to coerce people away from the light. Only those that acknowledged it for the vice that it was and renounced it in favour of the Light could truly be trusted in the fight against Evil.


    Pascal would assist his allies for now, but unless Taylor¡¯s opinions were corrected, then his decision had already been made. It came as no surprise to him that the hero of Compassion was not fit to lead them. Taylor made for a good mentor or guide, but did not have the right temperament to push back the darkness. She would make for an effective subordinate.


    Pascal would follow the plan at first. He would take to the streets and give voice to the corruption they had uncovered.


    And when he spoke, his words would Propagate.


    Pascal would need to usurp Taylor¡¯s authority after they succeeded.


    It was an unfortunate necessity, but one that he would not shy away from.


    His faith demanded it of him.

 Concord 5.0g

    ¡°Miracles are sorcery for stupid people.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Sorcerous


    <hr>


    ¡°I¡¯d like to have a talk before you leave,¡± Taylor stated.


    She stood in the doorway with her arms forming an arch against either side of it, blocking off the only route out. The brown of her eyes cut into him like a knife stabbing through flesh.


    ¡°Is something the matter, sister?¡± he whispered. ¡°I thought it was agreed upon that today would be the day when I took my leave from your retinue and began my part of our great work.¡±


    It was better to be considerate to the neighbours before the rise of dawn and not earn anyone¡¯s ire.


    ¡°Friends gave me some advice. They told me to be more open. That it suits the person that I¡¯m trying to be. So I¡¯m going to try it.¡±


    She looked conflicted, as if the idea of wearing one''s thoughts on their sleeves was a mistake to her. This did not come as a surprise to Pascal. He held a similar belief. To do otherwise in a land like the Principate was like trying to teach scripture to a wizard. Better odds at teaching a dog, and they didn¡¯t even have souls.


    ¡°You do not need to concern yourself with your daughter¡¯s safety. I have complete faith in your ability to redeem her,¡± he consoled Taylor.


    Pascal knew that it was wiser not to imply any threat to a mother¡¯s child, however given previous discussions it seemed likely to be a concern that she had. It was a fear that was best put to rest.


    Taylor stilled. The glow surrounding her intensified for a moment.


    ¡°The only worry I have about Yvie concerning you is how upset she will be if she has to kill you.¡±


    The words were delivered with as much life as the ground within the borders of Keter. It was as if she considered the outcome of such an encounter to be a foregone conclusion and no more thought needed to be given to it.


    Yvette spent most of her time reading books or scrolls when she was not with Taylor or Songbird. Pascal had seen no hint of any aggression within her, but the warning was received nonetheless. Perhaps it was best to remain cautious around the pint sized calamity after all.


    ¡°What is it that you wish to share with me?¡± he trailed his spindly fingers along the cool surface of the wall in thought, tapping against bricks as he went. It was evident that this was not what she came here to discuss.


    Pascal was not certain why Taylor had invested Songbird with so much trust, but he was not above taking advantage of her lapse in judgement. It would be an important lesson for her in the years to come if she wished to trade blows with those in the halls of power.


    ¡°We know that you intend to betray us and co-opt my plans.¡±


    Pascal could read the underlying currents of anger writ into the words that she delivered. Her shoulders were stiff. Her muscles were taught. She held herself ready to leap forward and fight. It reminded Pascal much of the warrior monks at the church he once toiled at before a wizard burned it down.


    ¡°It serves your purposes as well as my own for corruption to be cleansed from the House of Light,¡± he assured her.


    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m not being clear enough. I¡¯m intending to do everything that I legally can. That means no inciting a Liturgical war. No trying to discriminate against sorcerers or anyone else for that matter. There is enough chaos in the land for me to not cause more of it.¡±


    ¡°The Highest Assembly will never accede to your wishes,¡± Pascal feigned a sigh of regret.


    The upcoming war was an unfortunate necessity, but a war was all but a certainty now. The documents they had obtained proved the corruption within the clergy beyond a shadow of a doubt, but they also illustrated just how unfit the Princes were of ruling. It would take the hand of one of the faithful to truly guide the Principate in the years to come.


    ¡°They will refuse until someone with a Name that they can¡¯t kill starts decapitating Princes,¡± Taylor countered, folding her arms together.


    ¡°The only laws that you should hold yourself to are the laws of the Gods Above.¡±


    ¡°I do, but the laws of the land need to find some common ground with the laws of the Gods, otherwise there will be problems.¡±


    ¡°We have gone centuries so far without either the Chosen or the Damned making a serious threat to topple the hierarchy of the Principate.¡±


    ¡°Things changed.¡±


    Taylor refused to elaborate on the nature of those changes. Their argument proceeded like a quill trailing from one side of a page to the other. She insisted that he was falling down a dark well with no hope of finding the Light on the other side. She cajoled, persuaded, tried to convince Pascal to give up his own beliefs and champion hers instead.


    Pascal was not swayed from the course he had charted.


    That did not prevent him from offering her reassurances otherwise. Taylor seemed to believe that she was capable of preventing the seeds he was planting from blossoming. She invested so much confidence into Songbird¡¯s schemes that she made no attempt to cut Pascal off. It was a mark of weakness that she would need to grow out of with time if she intended to brush shoulders with those who held power.


    Her mistake was in believing that she had any way to shift the boulder once Pascal had set it rolling. He would speak and people would listen. And the individual they would listen to was him as he spread the words of the Gods. Taylor was allowing him to open the box, and she had no way to close it again. Pascal¡¯s cause would persist even if he should perish.


    Taylor eventually took her leave.


    ¡°I forgave the people of Aisne because of the circumstances. I will not allow a similar rebellion to be incited again. Should it appear as if something similar is about to occur, I will do my part to prevent it¡­¡± were the last words she spoke to him as she departed the room.


    ¡°I suggest that you pay more attention to what Taylor says,¡± Songbird warned him as the two of them left the Snake¡¯s Nest.


    Pascal made no effort to reply.


    Songbird was a skilled administrator and schemer. Taylor relied on her to fulfil a critical niche within their group, but the redhead Lycaonese woman was not irreplaceable. If it came to pass that her schemes served as an obstruction between him and the work of the Gods, then¡­ Songbird would find her thread cut loose. It would be easier to guide Taylor properly without her interference.


    She led him out of the livelier parts of the Upper Yearning. The roads widened as they passed many large mansions, then narrowed once more as they stepped into a side alley. A turn of the hourglass later and Songbird came to a halt. She had led him to a derelict warehouse in the more industrial parts of Salia. While it would take much to furnish it, Pascal was prepared to concede that it would serve his purposes.


    ¡°Scribes that I¡¯ve paid will be copying the relevant records taken from the Holies and concealing them here. I¡¯ll leave the method of distribution up to you, although I expect you will require my assistance. You know where to find us If you find yourself in need of any help we can provide. Sending a written missive should suffice.¡±


    Pascal looked over his temporary base of operations more critically as he listened to what Songbird said.


    ¡°This is satisfactory.¡± He smiled.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll take my leave.¡±


    The bedraggled troublemaker turned and departed. Pascal hummed to himself as she disappeared around the corner. There was much to be done if he wished to overturn the Holies. The conclave presented the ideal opportunity for seizing power from his foes.


    Pascal would not allow it to slip between his fingers.


    <hr>


    ¡°Heed not the words of those who preach poverty from atop mounds of gold. Those who would have you toil in the mud while they feast upon the spoils of your labour. For it is they who drip poison into the ears of the princes, turning man against man, kin against kin. For it is they who make mockery of virtue. Cast down those who would-¡± Pascal¡¯s voice reverberated across the thoroughfare.


    Esme allowed the current of the crowd to pull her along in the man¡¯s wake. There must have been thousands of people hooked onto his every word. The pale man stood tall upon the back of an open roofed wagon and preached to all who would listen, shaking his fist to the clouded sky above as he spoke. Two surly mules pulled his transport forward across the cobbled road.


    Songbird had requested that Esme trail Pascal and hear his arguments for herself. She did not know why Songbird had insisted on it ¡ª but with little else to do ¡ª she had found herself heeding Songbird¡¯s odd demand.


    This was the fourth time she had done as much this week.


    The more she had observed Pascal, the less she came to like him. He reminded Esme of her parents and the other nobility. He claimed to be a hero, but was nothing more than another fish of the same breed as those who had ruined her life. Pascal was a schemer through and through.


    Being faithful and following the gods did not make the man good.


    It surprised Esme how many bought into the story that he told. It had not taken long for him to incite anger among the faithful. Many flocked to his cause. It hadn¡¯t taken Pascal long to appoint trusted helpers who could be seen darting between the crowd like hungry piranhas. They distributed texts that had been copied among the masses and helped build excitement.


    One way or another, this storm would die out before the sun set.


    The day of the conclave had dawned at last.


    Esme listened with one ear to the man¡¯s rhetoric. Her thoughts were adrift, unmoored. They had been ever since the day that Taylor and Songbird had taken her aside and talked to her. There had been many similarities in what the two of them had said, which made the differences so much more telling.


    Both had summoned forth the memory of her dead brother. Songbird had used it to bleed Esme like a stuck pig. She had wielded it to harm Esme, demanded that Esme feel shame.


    Taylor had not done the same.


    She had cast the pebble of her thoughts in a different direction and asked Esme to think on what her brother would have wished for her. The ripples that had followed had not cut in quite the same way.


    It was the stark difference between the two ocean currents that left Esme in a daze.


    She had seen enough of Songbird to know she had a more deft hand for managing relationships than Taylor did. The redhead would know of the visceral desire for vengeance that her words had given life to. If Taylor had been capable of casting her net and drawing forth the conclusions she desired without giving birth to burning hatred directed her way, then Songbird could have done much the same.


    Which brought into question her motives.


    For what reason did Songbird want Esme to hate her?


    It was a question that had plagued Esme¡¯s thoughts for some time now, much like the new rumours of the ghost of a sunken ship haunting travel at sea.


    The cart slowed as it approached the cathedral where the conclave would take occur. Priests moved to intercept it, but were waylaid by the crowd. Pascal descended from his lofty perch and strode forth with the confident arrogance of a man who expected to have his way.


    Esme turned down a deserted side alley and started to leave.


    She had seen enough of his poisonous rhetoric to satisfy her curiosity.


    It was a while later when a voice let out what sounded like a battle-cry up ahead. It was a familiar voice ¡ª one that she knew well ¡ª and her pace accelerated before she even realized it. Soon Esme was sprinting. Her hand reached towards the knife at her belt and she was quick to pull it loose.


    She passed an abandoned vegetable stall and stepped into a cul-de-sac.


    Circumstances: Five men, three on the ground ¡ª either fatally wounded or dead ¡ª two more engaged with Songbird. Songbird backing against a wall is deliberate. Cutting off the other approach.


    Condition ¡ª Songbird: Cuts on arms, superficial. Blood staining tunic. Suggests a stomach wound. Likely a gut wound. Fatal without treatment.


    Condition ¡ª Fighters: Heavily wounded. Are also likely to perish.


    Songbird deflected another blow with one of her short swords as Esme took in the scene, and then returned a jab of her own. Her movements were sluggish, but she still took the man in the gut then pushed up, before pulling her blade loose. He let out a strangled gasp, then fell to the floor. Two more similar exchanges with the final fighter and Songbird was alone.


    She staggered back, then slipped on a pool of blood and fell towards the ground.


    Time almost seemed to slow.


    Esme¡¯s fingers twitched once more.


    I don¡¯t even need to do anything. I just need to leave and I¡¯ll have vengeance.


    Esme stood there frozen as she considered what to do. Nothing pointed to her being present. It was a gang of five who had sprung upon Songbird. She didn¡¯t have enough details to put together a full understanding of what occurred. It might have been nothing more than chance, but Esme was prepared to wager on foul play being involved.


    She breathed in and out, gripping her dagger tight by the hilt.


    What should she do?


    Leave, her mind called out to her.


    Just sail away.


    It would be so easy, but what would occur next?


    Connect: Taylor relied on Songbird for strategy. Pascal knows this. Knows that the best way to disarm Taylor is to remove Songbird. Pascal is contesting Taylor for leadership of the church, and thus has motive to remove Songbird.


    Her grip tightened. The cold bit into her fingers, but her focus was elsewhere.


    This decision was too momentous for her to decide on a whim.


    Taylor¡¯s plans would all unravel if Songbird died. Pascal might take over the House of Light. That could play out in multiple ways. He would almost certainly die if Taylor believed that he would cause a war. He would die if Taylor learned that he killed Songbird. The war might break like a storm, regardless of if he lived or perished. A Liturgical war presented plenty of opportunities for vengeance to come to all of her foes. Esme merely needed to¡­


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    ¡°Your death would be quick and painless. It would be over before you even blinked.¡±


    Esme shuddered involuntarily. Memories of that terrifying moment surfaced once more. Memories of the stark sincerity that the words had been delivered in. It was as if she was stating that the sun rose at dawn, or that the tides moved according to the moon. Taylor had been trying to be comforting. She wasn¡¯t.


    Esme¡¯s life would come to an end if Taylor ever discovered that she had left Songbird to bleed out. However, her vengeance would be all but assured. Was this not an acceptable trade? Her life for the vengeance that she craved?


    But¡­


    Taylor would be inconsolable in her grief. She would blame herself for the failure. Blame herself for extending trust like this to another person. Taylor¡¯s relationship with Songbird reminded Esme of her relationship with her brother when they were younger, shortly after one of their fights.


    This was her opportunity.


    Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife.


    Esme tried to find it in herself to hate Taylor. It didn¡¯t matter if she would be hurting someone else the way her family had hurt her, this would be vengeance. Vengeance was what she was due. She just needed to walk away.


    Her feet would not move.


    Despite how much disdain Esme had for Taylor¡¯s vision ¡ª her stubborn belief in a peaceful resolution ¡ª she did not wish the woman any ill.


    She found it beyond her.


    Even Discern told Esme that the raven haired priestess was sincere. She was not scheming, back biting or corrupt. While she often harboured dark thoughts, she never allowed them to leave port.


    Taylor cared.


    Even when she should not.


    Songbird will owe me for the rest of her life. That counts as vengeance, right?


    Esme sheathed her dagger and released the hilt.


    She took one step forward. Then another. Then the next.


    Time sped up.


    It was not long before she found herself beside Songbird.


    Injuries ¡ª Songbird: Heavy bleeding. Cut off blood flow. Staunch wounds. Don¡¯t move Songbird. Prevent loss of blood.


    She reached towards the woman and followed the instructions in her mind almost mechanically, calling out for assistance while she worked.


    ¡°Knew you¡¯d do it,¡± the redhead slurred. ¡°Knew you¡¯d help me.¡±


    ¡°You are the barnacles on the hull of my boat,¡± Esme replied.


    There was no heat in her words.


    Songbird¡¯s eyes were clouded over. Her skin was sweaty.


    Behaviour ¡ª Songbird: Delirious, rambling, confiding more than she would otherwise.


    Speculation: Songbird expected this attack. Set up Esme to find her.


    Esme could not even find it in herself to hate the woman for that.


    Songbird kept rambling while Esme worked. She had cut loose parts of Songbird¡¯s ill-fitting coat and did her best to dress the wounds with torn off pieces of her own sunflower yellow dress. Discern kept complaining about the possibility of long term illnesses, but Esme dismissed the warnings.


    It was only necessary to delay Songbird¡¯s demise until Taylor was able to mend the wounds.


    It was not long until one of the guard patrols stumbled into the side street. Esme shouted out to them. Told them where the Snake¡¯s Nest was. Told them to find Taylor.


    One of them ran off.


    The rest chose to remain.


    A blonde haired youth moved in to assist.


    It was not even a quarter of an hour later when a searing sphere of blazing Light descended from above and Taylor arrived to heal Songbird¡¯s wounds. She looked at Esme, her eyes softened and she smiled.


    Esme did not need to reach for her gift to know that Taylor trusted her.


    ¡°You did the right thing.¡±


    ¡°Pascal was responsible for this attack against her.¡±


    ¡°Go to the Cathedral,¡± Taylor pointed in the wrong direction.


    That was fine. Esme could find the cathedral on her own.


    ¡°This girl is a witness to the crime that occurred here. She needs to be taken to a magistrate to report the events,¡± one of the guards interjected.


    ¡°Esme will do that later,¡± Taylor¡¯s brown eyes met those of the guard, unblinking. ¡°You will escort her to the conclave.¡±


    The woman shrunk away from her gaze, then nodded her approval.


    ¡°Go to the Cathedral, Esme. You¡¯ll know what to do there. Might as well finish up Songbird¡¯s scheme. I can guess the next part.¡± Taylor¡¯s grip on Songbird¡¯s arm tightened. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with this fool who thinks plans involving getting herself stabbed are acceptable. She knew that I¡¯d never approve of this stupid scheme if she¡¯d told me of it, even if it''s definitely heroic.¡± The last words were shouted out in a tone that was both possessive and fond.


    Esme followed behind the guards as they led her off. Her mind was blanketed beneath a thick fog.


    She had helped someone who she had sworn vengeance to.


    She had helped them and had felt good about it.


    Had she made the right choice, or was this a decision she would come to regret?


    Her hands felt clammy, sweaty, and it wasn¡¯t from the blood that stained them either. The blood almost felt clean. It felt as if it belonged.


    Esme doubted that it would ever come off.


    The guards led her past the crowds of Pascal¡¯s supporters who watched them like hungry sharks. The streets outside the cathedral were so packed with people that they needed to shove their way up the stairs. Her escort hid their nervousness well as she passed beneath the church bell and opened the double doors.


    Like a fog bank at sea, the pews which in other circumstances would seat men and women from the streets were instead crammed with priests clad in white. Additional chairs had been found and extended the occupied space all the way to the stained-glass windows on either side. The cathedral was hot, humid from all the bodies pressed up inside it.


    The building may have been large, but it was far too small for the crowd gathered within. There was a small group who were tied to chairs at the front, seated facing the audience. They bore gold markings on their robes. The Holies. Esme could not see their expressions, but she doubted that any of them were pleased with their circumstances. It had astonished her how fast Pascal¡¯s opinions had propagated among the peasantry. Esme would wager a Whale to Walleye that his words had taken root among the clergy and spread like a wildfire there as well.


    The bear in the salmon run stood at the lectern opposite to the doors and was in the process of addressing the conclave.


    Esme ignored the Reformist¡¯s grand declarations.


    She did not care to hear the man utter another word.


    Her blood boiled, her anger sang to her.


    Silence fell as she stepped through the doors.


    Pascal was no better than another scheming snake attempting to poison those whose purpose was purer than his own. Esme would see him brought low. She had no weapons to fight him save that of her own tongue, but under this roof that would be enough.


    Words were spilling out of the Inquisitors lips before she even realized that she had opened her mouth.


    Pascal was not fit to lead the House of Light.


    And so ¡ª much like she had once taken Yvette to task ¡ª she began to Denounce him.


    <hr>


    Yvette looked through the many stalls in the open market. Her ma would be upset with her for sneaking out with Songbird like this, but Yvette wasn¡¯t prepared to be coddled. She was thirteen, and she had a Name. She was safe. Safe. She didn¡¯t need her ma for everything. Nobody was going to come and slice into her like shards of broken glass again. What would other people think of her if they heard that she listened to everything her ma told her to do?


    Songbird had disappeared a while ago, claiming she had business at the conclave. She had told Yvette to stay out of trouble and be a big girl, then given her an exaggerated wink.


    That was okay.


    Songbird had been giving Yvette plenty of advice when she could. She told Yvette that it was her duty to be the irresponsible one, and did her best to lead Yvette into trouble. It was fun, but her ma wouldn¡¯t approve. Her ma would want her to be responsible. Then, if Taylor was in a bad mood, she would give Yvette the look. The look always made Yvette feel like she was ten years younger and had been caught stealing apples from a horse. She didn¡¯t like the look.


    So Yvette would be responsible.


    She would stay here until she was ready to go back to the Snake¡¯s Nest and not get into any trouble. This was fine. She wasn¡¯t doing dangerous magic without supervision again. Well, except for the spell to keep her skin warm and her clothes clean. That one didn¡¯t count. It wasn¡¯t dangerous. Neither did the spell to push snow away from her, or the spell that made her less interesting to everyone around her.


    Don¡¯t lose focus. Breathe.


    Yvette took in a deep breath, centring herself.


    Her ma was out on the streets and busy healing people. She had asked Yvette if she wanted to come with but seeing so many injured people reminded her of the day again. She would rather do without the reminder. Yvette took a moment to examine the wares of a cobbler, before leaving when she found nothing that suited her needs. Other patrons shied away from Yvette as if she was diseased, even though they weren¡¯t fully aware that she was present.


    Breathe.


    Was her hiding spell working at all? They noticed her, and they shouldn¡¯t. What she was doing to the surrounding environment wasn¡¯t subtle. Yvette wasn¡¯t sure that she could do subtle. Such open hatred had been uncommon in the past, but became more frequent the longer Pascal gave his awful speeches.


    Breathe.


    Nothing was going to go wrong.


    Yvette passed a merchant selling foul smelling fish, then spotted the front face of a two-storey building nearby. It was clean, well looked after and had windows instead of shutters. It advertised itself as a jewellery store. Yvette stopped and watched a flock of pigeons as they took flight. Their feathers made good components for sleep spells. It would be nice to look at rings and necklaces. Perhaps she should suggest a trip here to her ma in future?


    Breathe.


    She started forward once more and felt the onset of a memory returning to her. She shoved it aside, only to trip and fall. A horse kicked up some snow behind her. Oh, did it almost run into her? She needed to pay more attention. Her lips curled into a frown. She hated being so distractable. Yvette climbed to her feet and walked towards the statue in the middle of the square.


    Don¡¯t think about bad things.


    She slowed as she saw a patrol escorting someone with bloody hands down a road on her left. The person looked familiar. Who was it? She reached up, brushed her golden locks aside, and scratched the nape of her neck in thought. Oh, it was Esme. Anger, regret, and guilt lanced themselves through her like a needle piercing cloth.


    What had Esme done now?


    Yvette¡¯s feet had started to follow behind the group without even realizing it.


    She loathed Esme. Esme didn¡¯t deserve her ma¡¯s attention. She didn¡¯t deserve to be helped. Esme went out of her way to be as unpleasant as possible to everyone. Had she killed someone? Was the guard finally arresting her? It was uncharitable of her to think as much, but it wouldn¡¯t surprise Yvette if that was something Esme had finally done.


    She did her best to follow without being seen ¡ª avoided three carts, a hound and only spared a glance for a cat ¡ª while trailing behind Esme and her escort. Yvette wasn¡¯t going to cause any trouble, she just needed to make sure that Esme wasn¡¯t going to do anything either. Yes, that was it. They headed past a grove of oak trees towards a massive crowd gathered outside a cathedral. Oh. This was where the conclave was taking place.


    Yvette bit her lips.


    Breathe.


    How could she follow behind? Flight? No, she wasn¡¯t confident with flying magic. Her hand went to her pouch and opened the clasp, then fumbled around inside as she thought. A distraction? No, that would backfire. These people probably didn¡¯t like magic. Especially if they listened to Pascal. Best not to make them angry. Her fingers brushed against a cocoon and she paused.


    Yes, that would work.


    The cocoon for metamorphosis, change, mutability. A tiny hourglass for transience. A broken fragment of a mirror for a broken perspective. She selected a few more reagents for the ritual. It was a¡­complicated spell that she wanted to try, but not one that should be beyond her.


    Yvette faced the walls of a nearby building and started to mutter under her breath. She kept her movements muted as she traced the symbols into the air, careful to obscure them from view.


    It was best not to attract any attention.


    The shutters of the building opened for a moment. Someone was looking in from the other side. Yvette yelped, lost attention, and released the spell.


    Oh, no.


    Yvette staggered as energy flowed out of her, then steadied herself against the wall. She took two steps back, puzzled, then tried to determine what it was that she had done. That had used¡­ most of her energy to cast.


    Reality rippled.


    An understated shriek echoed that was simultaneously louder than the wail of a child burning to death in Aisne, and quieter than a feather touching the ground. The sound spread no further than within a few feet of her, as if it obeyed laws of its own.


    A region of space three feet wide and six feet tall shattered.


    Breathe.


    This wasn¡¯t what Yvette had wanted to do. She had only wanted to pinch space a little. Connect where she was to the roof of the cathedral so that even a single step could bridge the distance. Her ma had told her not to attempt teleportation ¡ª but she hadn¡¯t been trying to teleport ¡ª only to reorganize the world so that it suited her better.


    She¡­ hadn¡¯t succeeded.


    A desolate landscape occupied the space on the other side of the tear in reality. So that was where the desolation happened. Good. At least it wasn¡¯t in the town. Yvette looked further through the fissure. A cold, harsh, wintry landscape occupied the other side. Oh, no. Was this a gate to Arcadia? She had wanted to spend some time studying Arcadia. Her ma had mentioned the possibility of wizards being sent to investigate Constance¡¯s Scar, and was hoping she could be one of them. It was a good opportunity for her to learn more about magic and perhaps make some headway on the runes. The decision would need to wait until after the civil war ended, but Yvette thought that it would end soon.


    Breathe.


    This was fascinating. The breach would fix itself in a few hundred heartbeats. It was the perfect opportunity for her to take a step into Arcadia and see what it was like inside. Yvette¡¯s chances of encountering one of the Fae were slim to none, and she wasn¡¯t going to get another opening like this any time soon. She took a moment to reinforce her warming spell and then stepped through the gap into the desolate landscape, then examined the area behind her.


    A dense deadwood forest loomed in the distance.


    Breathe.


    Yvette turned once more.


    Another break back into reality was beginning to form. It was only a few steps ahead of Yvette. She ambled over and looked through a pinhole sized gap into a large open room packed with people wearing white. They were probably priests. Maybe it was the cathedral? So her spell hadn¡¯t failed completely¡­ just succeeded differently. The portal continued to grow. This wouldn¡¯t do. Somebody might notice it. Yvette¡¯s fingers danced as she used the last of her magic to weave a mirage, obscuring the portal from view. So long as Yvette didn¡¯t say anything or step through, nobody would notice that she was listening in.


    Pleased with her limited success, Yvette almost stumbled when she heard voices from the other side.


    ¡°-you make a mockery of the very faith you claim to uphold. Far be it for you to denounce the words of the Holies when you yourself scheme to undermine the deeds of another among the chosen. You hide in the depths like a predatory fish and knife your own allies to promote your own purpose. There is-¡± Esme continued to rant from the other side of the tear.


    The denouncement she gave echoed out through the portal.


    ¡°Hear me now, my brothers and sisters: you should pay no heed to her words. She comes before us today as one of the damned and seeks to undermine the very foundations of our faith. For it is only-¡±


    Pascal was there as well. It sounded like the two of them were arguing. She didn¡¯t have the mental capacity to focus on all the details of what they said, and so focused on only the important bits while she observed the tear. She needed to remember to leave it on time.


    Esme accused Pascal of working to undermine Taylor.


    Pascal argued that Taylor would make a good subordinate but bad leader.


    Esme accused Pascal of stirring up another Liturgical war.


    Pascal argued that sorcerers deserved to die.


    The two continued to fling accusations at each other, and Yvette only listened with half an ear.


    Yvette wasn¡¯t certain of who was winning the debate. She also wasn¡¯t sure of whom she wanted to win. She suspected that Pascal would succeed because between Esme and Pascal he was the smart one, but that wasn¡¯t saying much. Both of them were awful people who said awful things. Why hadn¡¯t the priests killed Esme already anyhow? It wasn¡¯t like they couldn¡¯t just spear her with the Light and nobody would blame them for killing one of the damned.


    Oops.


    Had she said that out loud?


    An awkward silence fell in the room before her.


    Esme began to turn around.


    ¡°I see you, little mouse,¡± an eerie voice called out from behind Yvette.


    She yelped and stepped through the portal beside Esme, then looked behind herself and dismissed her mirage. There was nobody there. Yvette wanted to take a moment to complain about the Fae, but realized that she had bigger problems to deal with.


    She had just stepped through a portal into a cathedral filled from one side to the other with priests. Priests that didn¡¯t like nice little wizards like her. There was a group of city guards beside her, but they didn¡¯t look pleased to see her either.


    Yvette knew that she had landed in hot water.


    ¡°Ma!¡±


    So she let out a Call.

 Concord 5.09

    ¡°When the hundred gathered priests-elect of the Hallowed burned out their souls to summon forth one of the Seraphim at the shores of Lake Artoise, Triumphant did strike it down. In her parting words ¡ª her voice thick with disappointment ¡ª she declared: ¡®That''s it?¡¯¡±


    ¡ª Extract from the Scroll of Dominion, twenty-fourth of the Secret Histories of Praes


    <hr>


    ¡°Y¡¯need to get back to your guards fast,¡± the bloodied mess that was Songbird muttered from beside me.


    ¡°And you need to tell me why you tried to get yourself killed,¡± I snapped her way.


    I pulled her jerkin back in place as I finished healing her, then helped her back to her feet. She groaned as both of us left our knees. Gore matted her ponytail, leaving it an ugly mess that didn¡¯t suit her at all.


    ¡°M¡¯serious. We gotta walk fast. No flying ball. Angels fly, priestesses walk. You shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve flown,¡± she pressed a bloodied palm against the adjacent baked brick wall to support herself as she chastised me.


    Songbird¡¯s brown eyes had a fevered light to them. She was shivering, and it wasn¡¯t from the cold.


    ¡°Why did you make this plan? I¡¯m not letting this go, Song,¡± I poked my bloodied finger against the leather covering her arm.


    ¡°Y¡¯need to get back to your guard and then take a stroll to the cathedral together. Hopefully this story calls for a priestess and not an Angel. It prob¡¯ly doesn¡¯t.¡±


    That finally caught my attention. My focus shifted, considering the pieces. I had asked her not to put me into the Role of an Angel, now it sounded like she did. I needed to know everything. It was important to determine if she¡¯d burned her final candle, or if this was done in good faith.


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk while we walk. Tell me everything.¡±


    I reached down and picked up her bloodied short swords by the hilt from the ground, reversed my grip, then handed them back to her. She took them. Her hands gripped them tight. It was as if they offered comfort from the fight that had occurred. Then she paused, shook her head and tossed them aside. They clattered on the ground beside one of the corpses.


    ¡°Blade¡¯s in bad shape after the tussle. Could get it fixed, but better to leave it. A replacement will be better,¡± she muttered to herself.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave them there,¡± I scolded.


    ¡°The guard¡¯ll return and look over the scene. Not that they¡¯ll complain about a heroic tussle. It¡¯s best for us to leave this to them.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    We both walked around the corpses as we began our journey back to Blaise and Michel.


    ¡°Y¡¯need to remember. What you do is prob¡¯ly going to change based on what happens next. Angels don¡¯t have bodyguards. Priestesses do. Angels don¡¯t negotiate, they make proclamations, then punish anyone who dares to break them for hubris. Priestesses negotiate and solve problems with diplomacy.¡± Songbird continued to ramble.


    Her steps were unsteady, and she was leaning against me as she walked. She had lost a lot of blood.


    ¡°Songbird-¡±


    ¡°M¡¯serious,¡± she interjected. Her voice was devoid of levity. ¡°Promise to remember that. S¡¯the difference between us winning and losing.¡±


    ¡°I promise,¡± I replied. ¡°Now talk. Why did you arrange for someone to stab you?¡±


    We passed gawking crowds of people as we left the alleyway. They saw me and started to whisper, but otherwise didn¡¯t approach.


    Then they saw Songbird and started to make space for me to pass.


    The gesture was appreciated.


    ¡°Only some plans called for being stabbed,¡± she protested.


    ¡°I¡¯m not convinced.¡±


    We passed a tavern, then stepped out onto the main thoroughfare.


    ¡°M¡¯not lying to you. Promise. Any plan where Pascal didn¡¯t betray us ends without me being stabbed. Some of the ones where he did betray us end the same way too.¡± Songbird let out a hacking cough.


    My heart clenched.


    ¡°You relied on Esme.¡±


    We paused, looked over the crowd on the main road, and searched for a way through.


    ¡°Nah. That would¡¯ve been stupid. Roland¡¯s in that tavern over there resolving business with some contacts of his,¡± she pointed. ¡°I told him to sort that out today. He¡¯d¡¯ve found a reason to leave earlier and help me if Esme didn¡¯t step in. Dashing rogue helps the damsel in distress. He¡¯d also have found a reason to leave early if Yvette caused some magical disaster and prevented it.¡±


    Yvette causes a magical disaster? Why is that even part of this!


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem like much of a plan.¡±


    Someone in the crowd noticed us. Space magically materialized a second time. We started to walk away from the cathedral towards where I had left my guards.


    ¡°Pascal could¡¯ve betrayed us, or not betrayed us, or just not gone to the conclave, but I doubted that would happen. Esme could¡¯ve not found me, or found me but chose to leave ¡®pending on how she fit into the story. Yvie¡­ either someone tries to abduct her, or she wanders into the temple, or she does nothing at all. There¡¯s also other considerations.¡±


    I assumed that she angered Esme to put her in a position where she would help someone she wanted vengeance against but¡­


    ¡°Why did you think Esme would help you at all?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the paradox of Esme. She disdains individuals who won¡¯t ¡®get their hands dirty¡¯ like you, but those are the only people pure enough to not fall under her scrutiny. S¡¯pose she hurt you the same way she was hurt, then she¡¯d be betraying her own beliefs by turning herself into the people that she despises.¡±


    And having Songbird die would do that. It fit, but there was still so much left to chance.


    ¡°This sounds less like a plan and more like a lot of loose puzzle pieces floating around.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯how stories work. S¡¯like juggling hundreds of knives while balancing on a lion¡¯s tail. The more knives that¡¯re in the air, the better the performance, but the greater the chance of being bitten, scratched or stabbed. Settling on only one plan would be stupid, and expecting all of them to work would be bad as well. S¡¯more important to make opportunities. Put people where they need to be for lotsa things to happen, then adjust as specific pieces fall into place. S¡¯all about organizing the chaos once it begins so that it ends to your advantage. We gotta hope that people can improvise if everything falls through, though.¡±


    It explained why she didn¡¯t have us all together and instead split the group. I hadn¡¯t liked splitting the group in the past, but perhaps if we did it in a more calculated manner then it could work to our advantage rather than be a weakness. Arrange the board so that more of the potential stories had good endings than bad, then prune them as everything plays out.


    Still¡­ there were so many loose threads.


    ¡°How can you plan like that at all?¡±


    ¡°M¡¯counting on people¡¯s nature. Say Yvie sees Esme doing something shady, she¡¯ll follow and investigate. Maybe Pascal¡¯s feeling ¡®specially stupid today and thinks trying to kidnap Yvie is a good idea. Well, heroic rogues help imperilled kids. The priestess is out healing people. She¡¯s around when something goes wrong to step in. S¡¯all about nature and Role.¡±


    Songbird waved her hand in front of her theatrically. The effect was spoiled by all the blood.


    ¡°Why did you set me up as an Angel?¡±


    ¡°Would you rather be an Angel or risk a Liturgic war?¡±


    I grimaced. I didn¡¯t like the idea of playing the Role of an Angel regardless, but if I had to make that choice¡­ the former.


    ¡°Was it the end state of every plan you put together?¡± I demanded.


    The crowd thinned out as we drew further away from the cathedral. I hadn¡¯t been helping that close to the conclave, although I had been within a reasonable distance of it. Large crowds were excuses for people to become violent, and so I had decided that it was best to remain close enough to at least hear shouts of pain.


    ¡°Course not. It was a contingency. Esme¡¯s the Inquisitor. She¡¯s good at dealing with heretics. Dunno if she¡¯s good enough on her own. Didn¡¯t want to risk her failing, then not having a solution. S¡¯where Yvie comes in. She can pull off an Angel summoning. If Esme succeeds, then y¡¯don¡¯t need to worry.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Any other advice on being an Angel?¡±


    It was best that I be prepared in the event that I needed to.


    ¡°Plenty. Angels do big miracles when they appear. Angels don¡¯t lie, or debate mortal politics ¡®cept where they intersect with the divine. They focus on their duty and don¡¯t talk about themselves. Y¡¯cant invite one over for tea.¡±


    ¡°They would invite people over for tea if they were capable of it and if the tea would help alleviate the person¡¯s problems.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not the point. Y¡¯should also declare everything you legally want to change. Just tell people how you plan to organize the church. They¡¯ll go along with it as is, if you¡¯re careful enough.¡±


    ¡°I get that you didn¡¯t tell everyone this with potential traitors around. I don¡¯t like how much of it relied on luck, but¡­ in future I¡¯d like to know more.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not sure if that¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I only told you all of this because s¡¯really easy for you to mess up and end up as a priestess instead of an Angel. M¡¯pretty sure stories will be stronger if you fit into them without assistance and aren¡¯t walked through them step by step. S¡¯pose it¡¯s only natural y¡¯don¡¯t entirely trust them given the circumstances, but you¡¯ll need to learn to.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯should also consider doing the whole dramatic speech thing. Pretend you¡¯re Alamans. You¡¯ve got the accent, now you just need the theatre.¡±


    ¡°I expect you to start writing bawdy songs about our adventures at this rate,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s prob¡¯ly a good idea. There once was a-¡± she let out another hacking cough and stopped singing.


    I reached towards her quickly and tried healing her again. Nothing wrong, just lack of liquids.


    ¡°You need to drink. No exerting yourself.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose I¡¯ll save the songs ¡®bout roaming eyes and desires unspent for later,¡± Songbird teased.


    ¡°Just give me more advice,¡± I sighed.


    Songbird continued to tell me about the different elements of her plan as we searched for my guards. I wasn¡¯t happy with her being stabbed or with my potential summoning, but her explanation did mollify me.


    ¡°Over there,¡± Songbird pointed out the two figures standing beside a dingy shop. Our pace picked up.


    Then I felt an invisible tug.


    ¡°Ma!¡± the words called to me from far away.


    Great. It seems I¡¯m being an Angel after all.


    My mood soured.


    I allowed the call to pull me to where I needed to go. It felt like flowing along the current of a fast moving river. I recalled Songbird¡¯s advice.


    I need a miracle. Something suitably impressive to step into the Role.


    What would work? Contrition forced people to feel contrite. That wouldn¡¯t work for me. If I was to be an Angel, then I would play the part of an Angel of Redemption. How about¡­ My family gave me a silent nudge. Yes, that would work. It was complicated. Something far beyond what I could even dream of performing without angelic assistance, but they were more than willing to guide me through this.


    Even better, I¡¯d have the memory of what they did to learn from in future.


    Two ghosts vanished. The gentle caress of the Light flowed through me. Darkness, a flash, then I was standing in a cathedral. Light flowed out from me and bathed the pillars, arches, stained-glass windows and pews painted in white. The entire cathedral flickered for a heartbeat. It was an understated miracle. Something that was not flashy, but was impactful to those affected by it.


    I could experience only the echo of the miracle as it flowed through me. I doubted that I would have been able to catch glimpses into what the priests saw if I wasn¡¯t a physical manifestation of the Light myself. Then again, channelling something like this would kill me in those circumstances.


    The miracle came in two parts.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    First, memories of the past. The lives of those subject to it lived through one moment at a time. For every selfish decision that was made, a question was asked. What if?


    I wasn¡¯t pleased with what I perceived.


    What if they hadn¡¯t allowed the noble to disown the child for an additional donation to the church, or if the coin was used to help people rather than for personal fulfilment? How might their lives have gone? How many people might have been saved and what friends may they have made along the way?


    Then the questions that were asked were answered.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if the answers were real or only hypothetical, but they were plausible enough that either option could be true. Chains of causality, following through the lives of the priests and extending out from birth all the way into the now. For but a moment they could glimpse time as a tree branching off and see the satisfaction they might derive from making the world a better place.


    The child was inconvenient. He refused to scheme to fit the nobility¡¯s ends, and they would not tolerate this. Better to bribe the clergy and have him disowned. But the priests refused. The child was deemed worthy. The nobility ignored the statements of the priests and tried to proceed without approval. The peasantry learned of their actions. Their reputation was soiled. The child rose into prominence and took over.


    Coin was invested in the church in thanks. He died from drinking a poisoned wine during a trade agreement with a peer among the nobility. It was still a tragedy, but more good was done during his brief tenure than in the now.


    Another what if. What if one of the Holies did not drive a wizard to poverty for attempting to charge for healing during their youth? The event branched off, played out. How many lives were saved, how many were ended. What would the world have been like if the choices the Holies had made were less self-centred?


    And another.


    What if the priest hadn¡¯t advised Prince Dagobert to try for the crown? The priest believed that extending the war was in the best interest of the House of Light. Every death during the war eroded faith in the nobility and provided more leverage to the church. That people would reach for the Gods during times of troubles, so seeding disaster was the best way to grow the power of the Church. The war may have ended a full decade earlier without that priest¡¯s interference.


    I was horrified.


    The visions continued.


    There was no judgement, no demand for the clergy to do better. Redemption couldn¡¯t be forced on someone ¡ª doing so stripped it of all meaning ¡ª they had to decide it for themselves. There was only one question, repeated over and over into eternity. What if?


    All of them caught a glimpse of the lives they might have lived. How much happier they might have been. The rewards they might have earned and the friends they might have made. An entire life¡¯s worth of memories, condensed into a few heartbeats and somehow made comprehensible.


    Things that could have happened if the priests had chosen to do the right thing instead of the wrong one. It was almost like a mix of Clairvoyant¡¯s power, Tattletale¡¯s power and Dinah¡¯s power blended into one harmonious whole with the sole purpose of extrapolating an alternate past following the lives of better versions of every priest.


    The miracle came to an end.


    Everyone inside the cathedral trembled. It took effort for me to remain standing up straight. I clasped my hands together behind my own back to hide my own shivers. The source of mine was different. The miracle had taken much from me in its complexity. It was the kind of divine working that I could only dream of performing on my own.


    I started to speak.


    ¡°Redemption is a road that begins but never ends. What if all of you had been better people? Now you know the answer. Let every action you take make the world a better place. Strive to further the cause of our Gods because it is right, not because it enriches you. This is your charge, your duty, your burden.¡±


    I hoped that this was enough. That Pascal wouldn¡¯t contest me.


    I took a moment to examine the room.


    Yvette, the guards and Esme all flanked me. Esme stood tall and proud, with bloody hands, her black hair flowing over her shoulders, and a haughty expression on her face. It hadn¡¯t cracked, despite what I had unleashed in the room. Yvette trembled. Her eyes jumped from one person to another, and her fingers twitched like rabbit¡¯s ears.


    It was as if she was preparing to cast a spell.


    I wasn¡¯t sure why she was worried about the other priests. Only the silent monks would resort to violence, the other priests were all sworn to pacifism. Actually¡­ a group of silent monks were in the process of approaching. Their progress had stalled when my miracle was deployed, but there was at least some evidence of hostile action.


    I turned my eyes towards the stage. The Holies sat tied to chairs at the feet of the stairs, facing towards the audience. All of them looked miserable. Pascal was behind them on the stage with an organ towering behind him. He stood tall, unbowed, with his hands gripping the sides of a lectern tightly. A fevered look sparkled in his eyes.


    ¡­ He wasn¡¯t about to gracefully bow out of this contest.


    Nobody said a word. It was as if the entire room was collectively holding their breath, waiting for me to continue speaking.


    Declarations, not negotiations.


    I felt my family blanketing me in warmth. It did nothing to quell how queasy I felt stepping into this Role.


    I¡¯ll pray for forgiveness afterwards.


    ¡°This ends here.¡± The words reverberated across the hall.


    ¡°Greetings, sister. You are late to follow us in our righteous cause,¡± Pascal raised his palms in greeting as he spoke.


    His voice was strained, and his fingers shook, although he tried to obscure both signs of weakness.


    Talk over him. An Angel is not going to engage him in a debate.


    I lifted a finger that weighed a mountain, and pointed it towards the Holies.


    ¡°Those who claim to be most holy have been found guilty of perversion of divine purpose, spreading of strife, corruption, embezzlement, misallocation of church funds among many other wrongs. They will strive to earn redemption serving in the northern principalities, helping to drive back the undead.¡±


    I turned my attention towards the Reformist. This was where matters became more complicated.


    Don¡¯t talk about evidence of guilt. Evidence implies room to negotiate, and that¡¯s a mistake.


    ¡°It is good that we are in accord, sister. This villain seeks to undermine the very foundations of our faith. You should-¡±


    My finger wobbled upward towards Pascal.


    Don¡¯t mention mortal politics. Angels don¡¯t care about mortal politics.


    ¡°This man is guilty of perverting divine purpose in his desire to further earthly pursuits. He sought to wield the House of Light as a weapon to champion his own personal vendetta against sorcery. The Gods Above have not declared possession of an innate talent for sorcery to be Evil.¡± I spoke over him.


    ¡°It is not your place to judge me, sister. You hold no more authority than I do. All of us are equal under the banner of our Gods, and my cause is just as righteous as your own,¡± Pascal stated.


    Ignore him or smite him, one of the two.


    Figuring out how to blow up someone with the Light hadn¡¯t taken me very long, although I hadn¡¯t put it to use yet. Should I do it here? I didn¡¯t like the idea of killing him, but I had made my peace with the possibility. I¡¯d made more than one attempt to change Pascal¡¯s mind, and if I was choosing between a Liturgical war and his life¡­


    No, he hadn¡¯t quite stepped past the line yet in the eyes of the other priests. I¡¯d risk making him a martyr if it wasn¡¯t done at the right moment, and I couldn¡¯t afford that. It would mean spending years rooting out his poison from among the other priests. I needed to convince everyone that he was in the wrong before I attempted to do something like that.


    ¡­ It was also tempting to challenge what he said, but I managed to hold my tongue. The moment I engaged him in an argument, I would cease to play the Role of an Angel and instead play the Role of a priestess. We were not equal at all in the story that I was trying to tell, and I shouldn¡¯t trade words with him. I needed to bait him into saying the right thing with my own declarations to undermine what he was trying to build.


    ¡°Those of you who remain,¡± I made a wide, sweeping gesture to those seated below before hiding my hand behind my back again, ¡°will toil to purge the rot from the House of Light. You will strive for redemption in your own way.¡±


    ¡°We can work to restore the House to the position it rightly deserves now that those who pervert our purpose have been pulled down from their lofty posts.¡±


    ¡°The accounts of the House of Light shall henceforth be made available to the public to scrutinize. The House of Light is an institution in service to the Gods, and its funds should be used appropriately,¡± I ignored Pascal.


    Some Holies looked aghast at that declaration. None were stupid enough to protest.


    ¡°Wisdom is shown,¡± Pascal intoned. ¡°Compassion is not the sole virtue of Above. You would do well to heed my own guidance in matters related to war.¡±


    This is frustrating.


    He knew better than to contest my position as a hero directly. Pascal made himself look more reasonable by supporting some of my declarations, and it wasn¡¯t possible for me to say anything against him in reply.


    ¡°The Proceran House of Light will not be waging war against those with the gift of sorcery. Being born with magic does not make one Evil.¡±


    ¡°It is known that the Choir of Compassion fails to draw distinctions between Good and Evil. They only strive to ameliorate harm. Those two villains in your care are ample proof that the candle of compassion within you burns as brightly as it once did within the previous holders of your mantle. There is much to be admired about your convictions, but they are not the principles which should be used to lead us in times such as these.¡±


    ¡°Taylor will bring the wrath of the Gods down upon you if you attempt to incite another war. Does that make her a villain?¡± Esme interjected.


    She shied away from me and her skin was an uncomfortable shade of red. Despite her clear discomfort, she was doing her part to help. That counted for a lot.


    Bless you, Esme.


    She must have realized that I couldn¡¯t afford to argue with him and stepped up to assist me.


    ¡°The House of Light will allocate a portion of their funding to accumulate resources for the benefit of heroes within the Principate. Books to advance their knowledge. Tools to use. An effort will be made to document Namelore for the express purpose of guiding their journey.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t create the police force I wanted without approval from the Highest Assembly, but there was nothing preventing me from helping out heroes that already existed. Well, unless some new laws were passed.


    ¡°Whilst in princ-¡±


    ¡°Yes or no. Does that make her a villain?¡± Esme looked irritated at herself for interrupting Pascal, but went ahead and did it regardless.


    ¡°Should you be proven correct and Taylor does stand in direct opposition to me on this matter, then she furthers the cause of Below.¡±


    ¡°You show as much care as a ship navigating an unknown reef when you choose your words,¡± Esme¡¯s lips curled into a snarl. ¡°No different from the other white robed snakes slithering throughout these halls. Fly your own flag when you sail for once in your life, you spineless eel. Don¡¯t hide beneath the surface of the waters.¡±


    ¡°The ancient rituals and requirements for the First Prince of Procer to abase themselves before the Holies at the Starlit Cloister will be repealed. The same holds true for many other archaic traditions, which serve no purpose in the present day.¡± I continued to proclaim the changes that were to come.


    While that was a change that had to be voted on within the highest assembly to pass, I couldn¡¯t imagine it not passing if the House of Light were the ones who brought it up. The faithful were the ones that were responsible for the requirements still existing, the princes were not. They would pounce on the opportunity to not need to humiliate themselves.


    I would have liked to be able to proclaim that the House of Light would be setting up an order of paladins. I couldn¡¯t. If I declared it and I failed to get approval, it became immediate grounds for a war. It was disappointing, but it would need to be a petition made to the Highest Assembly without the weight of this story behind it. There was too much at stake to risk it.


    ¡°To stand in support of sorcerers marks one as graceless,¡± Pascal tried to evade once more.


    ¡°And so if one were to follow the net you cast, they would find that you declare a hero of Compassion to stand without the grace of the gods,¡± Esme pressed.


    ¡°That is a deliberate misrepresentation of t-¡±


    ¡°You have challenged the righteousness of one sworn to an Angelic Choir.¡±


    For the span of a heartbeat, the Cathedral drained of colour.


    Pascal turned whiter than bone.


    ¡°You are attempting to-¡±


    His attempt at verbal trickery was not quite good enough.


    ¡°You have the conviction of a sea snail and the righteousness of slime. Even the damned are worthy of more respect.¡± Esme sneered.


    Don¡¯t push your luck, Esme.


    There was a crack. An Angel reached towards Pascal. It felt as if a flame within him had been snuffed out only a moment later.


    The Light.


    I hadn¡¯t realized that I could sense the capacity to wield the Light inside of others. It made sense. I was made from the Light. It was like detecting a part of myself nestled within someone else.


    Colour seeped back into the room.


    Every eye was riveted on Pascal.


    Would killing him be a mistake? This was a real judgement from a real Angel. They had stripped his Name from him. Judging him a second time might be overstepping. I¡­ didn¡¯t receive any sense of warning. Nor did I receive any guidance.


    I¡¯m not taking the risk.


    There was a flash at the lectern as I embraced the Light.


    A scintillating pillar descended from the ceiling and scoured the stage. For a moment, there was an after-image that flickered in and out of reality. Pascal. Eyes wide open, mouth scraping the floor, and hands raised up to the ceiling.


    It disappeared only a few heartbeats later.


    Pascal was gone.


    Only an empty stage remained.


    Nobody said a word as I walked into the air over the crowd on platforms of Light and took my place where Pascal had once stood.


    I wasn¡¯t going to parade him in front of people. I wasn¡¯t intending to hold him as a prisoner and then allow the law to handle him, either. Both were forms of unnecessary cruelty, even if they might have made for a stronger story. The princes of Procer were... creative in their punishments for treason. Either option also created the opportunity for Pascal to escape and turn into a villain.


    It wasn¡¯t worth the risk.


    Perhaps I had just made him into a martyr. I wasn¡¯t sure. I was aware of more stories where a living Pascal caused more tragedy than the reverse.


    This story was not as clean as I¡¯d like.


    I was upset that I hadn¡¯t been able to convince Pascal that he was wrong. I had made a genuine effort and tried to help with his prejudices, but he wouldn¡¯t set them aside. He had been warned. Told what would happen if he tried to cause a war. It was such an absolute waste that he had ignored every word that I said.


    Not everyone can be redeemed, Taylor.


    I took a deep breath. Breathed out. Breathed back in again.


    ¡°The Holies are not an officially recognized authority within the church and will be dissolved. The internal hierarchy of the Proceran House of Light will be made clear to all outsiders, with roles and responsibilities assigned. Each position will be assigned based on necessity and nothing more. The purpose of that authority is to help further the will of the Gods, it is not to enrich the priests. Those who abuse their power will be removed with appropriate haste.¡±


    The Principate had no laws against the House of Light having an official leader, it only had laws against what that hypothetical leader could do. There was nothing stopping me from being in charge, so I¡¯d put myself in charge. I had a plan for the actual hierarchy I wanted to put in place, but right now wasn¡¯t the time to go into minutiae. It could wait for later.


    ¡°Who will lead us then?¡± Somebody called out from the audience.


    Is this the right moment? Yes, yes it is.


    Songbird had suggested dramatic Alamans declarations. So I¡¯d give them one.


    ¡°I will do my utmost best to serve the House of Light as its High Priestess in the troubled times to come. I will shine as the final fire on a stormy night. The torch that guides those lost to Below through the murky swamp of their souls back into the service of Above. The light that pushes back the darkness when all other hope is lost. When the time comes that I am no longer required, I will step aside and make room for whoever comes after me. I do not seek power for my own sake, but only to further the purpose of our Gods. May they strike me down if any word I uttered was untrue.¡±


    I stepped out of the shoes of an Angel back into ones that fit my feet.


    No raging fires descended from the heavens.


    None of the other priests contested my claim.


    I tried to smile at the other priests and priestesses while my hands shook behind my back. It took far more effort than it was worth. I knew that out of the political fights to come, this would be one of the easier battles I fought.


    I was a Named priestess with a lot of power and a much bigger claim to authority than anyone except for possibly a White Knight. The question was never whether I could take control of the House of Light, it was whether I could do it in a manner that others deemed acceptable.


    The floor of the Highest Assembly loomed over me like a Ratling appraising its next meal.


    Out of all the political battles that I was expecting to fight, I suspected that it would be the hardest one.

 Concord 5.10

    ¡°Copyright law exists across all dimensions.¡±


    ¡ª A Stranger¡¯s Guide to Names in Calernia, Author Unknown


    <hr>


    ¡°Y¡¯know, this is prob¡¯ly a waste of your time. There are other cats that you gotta skin,¡± Songbird said from some distance to my right.


    Her scarlet hair spilled over her shoulders and was accentuated by the warm, white dress that she wore.


    ¡°Esme needs the support.¡±


    I still didn''t like Esme, but I was willing to extend her some trust. She had shown a willingness to help someone that she dreamed of hurting. That counted for something.


    I turned away from Songbird and leaned further over the bronze balcony railing, then watched as snow dusted itself onto the stone garden below. Angels ¡ª the winged kind ¡ª depicted in marble surrounding a woman kneeling at the foot of a cross. It was a sculptor¡¯s rendition of the Hashmallim touching Eleanor Fairfax. The scene was tranquil, which I suspected was more of an artist¡¯s choice than a representation of the truth.


    It was one of the many marvels of the Starlit Cloister.


    ¡°Y¡¯can¡¯t be there for her every step of the way.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯ll be there at the start,¡± I acknowledged.


    ¡°Got news from the war front. The fight at Cantal is coming to an end.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully that means the civil war is over.¡±


    ¡°Prob¡¯ly.¡±


    ¡°Have Pascal¡¯s faction gained any more traction?¡±


    ¡°They haven¡¯t. Still only a very small group. None of them were in the cathedral.¡±


    ¡°My position is still less firm than I¡¯d have liked.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always been lotsa people who hate wizards. They¡¯d always be a problem. Can¡¯t win everything.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I sighed. ¡°Pass me the list.¡±


    I reached over to her and grabbed the bundle of parchments out of her fingers, then started to look at the questions on them.


    ¡°Told you that you¡¯d end up living in the Starlit Cloister.¡±


    ¡°This is temporary,¡± I protested.


    I flipped to the next page and started to skim the text. The calligraphy was neat despite the lack of lines, penned by someone with a far defter hand than my own.


    ¡°S¡¯pose that means it¡¯s permanent.¡±


    ¡°We need to organize the hierarchy first.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯should¡¯ve moved the church¡¯s seat of power to Aisne. Would¡¯ve made for a better story.¡±


    ¡°Narrative decisions need to be made within reasonable budget constraints,¡± I repeated for what must have been the tenth time by now.


    ¡°M¡¯pretty sure the House of Light can afford it,¡± Songbird chortled.


    She was right. The House of Light would still be a prosperous institution even after we¡¯d finished purging corruption from it. It was only starting to occur to me now just how much power I had while I worked to consolidate it all. There were towns that existed because there were churches there. Every noble in Procer was raised with at least one priest as a childhood advisor. The House of Light owned land. Not as much as the princes did, but more than anyone else. It didn¡¯t have an army, but it was still everywhere. In every institution from top to bottom.


    ¡°You know why we can¡¯t do it.¡±


    The fact that the House of Light could threaten war should have clued me in to just how much power it had. I might not have an army at my command, but I had a kind of power which was just as terrifying. People would answer the call if I gave it, and it would cripple the nation of Procer.


    That awareness ¡ª more than anything else ¡ª was what made me certain that we couldn¡¯t afford to move out of Salia. It would make for a powerful story, but we would be splitting the heart of power of the nation between two different locations.


    If I wanted to be in charge of the Proceran House of Light without causing a catastrophe, then I needed to be careful about what I did.


    ¡°Still think y¡¯should¡¯ve risked it. Would¡¯ve made for a story about a House working to redeem itself.¡±


    ¡°Or it¡¯s the story of a rift between the church and the state.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not like that rift won¡¯t already exist after you try pushing your changes through.¡±


    I finished paging through the list of questions and turned my attention back to Songbird.


    ¡°Why are there questions we already have the answers to. Name, age, friends, and family?¡±


    The process of deciding who we wanted to fill out the key positions within the House of Light was time-consuming. I could have left the administration alone and until I was done reorganizing I was doing just that ¡ª most of the Holies were leaders but not administrators ¡ª but I didn¡¯t want to take the risk long term. It was better to clean the house out once, thoroughly, than allow my own lapse in vigilance to haunt me later.


    The first round of the reorganization of the administration had been simple. All we did was ask those who were present and held a position of authority to nominate the people who they believed had the correct skills. They did so by dropping anonymous notes into boxes that I had designated for each position. We then took the responses and asked each person that had been nominated if they held any interest in occupying the position at all, and eliminated those who did not. It was important that they actually cared about performing whichever duty they had been nominated for.


    There were flaws with our current approach. The first set of leaders that I would establish would be biased entirely towards those who were currently present in Salia. It would be nice if I could just skip to a system that represented each principality¡¯s interest fairly, but¡­ for now I couldn¡¯t afford to. The situation would change in the future as people stepped down from positions over time and new people took them up. Until then, I had to make do with the world as it was now and not the world that I wanted to make.


    ¡°They¡¯re calibrating questions. Designed to elicit reactions. Esme works better the more she knows about how someone thinks. You¡¯re the one who wanted advisors who were both good and competent.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not possible for Esme to do all of this by herself.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll work on building her a team. An inquisition. She should have the skills to manage one. For now though¡­¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll need to do this on her own,¡± Songbird nodded.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I passed the documents back to her.


    The two of us departed from the balcony and made our way down the corridor. We walked beneath the arched rooftops and down the staircase to the lower floor, tiptoed past a room filled with priests in prayer, and across a plaza to a series of office buildings on the other side. Nobody disturbed us as we proceeded.


    The silence of the place was restful.


    At last, we both arrived outside our destination. A smattering of people stood lined up outside an aged wooden door. None of them spoke, and all of them had an aura of competence about them. Songbird seized the iron rung and pushed. Both of us stepped into an understated chamber with a mahogany desk set at the other side and another to the far right beneath a curtained window.


    ¡°May fair winds grace your sails, Taylor.¡± Esme rose out of her straight backed chair as we entered and gave me a full on curtsey.


    ¡°Evening,¡± I called out in reply.


    The smooth surface of her green velvet dress rippled in the Light I emitted. Blank parchments were stacked into neat piles in front of her, and an inkwell rested beside her left hand. I imagined that all the plain pages would all be littered with details by the time that we were done.


    Esme had been downright deferential towards me ever since the confrontation in the cathedral. Her attitude remained just as abrasive towards anyone else ¡ª it wasn¡¯t as if she¡¯d had a sudden change of heart ¡ª and so I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it.


    Had my execution of Pascal truly earned her goodwill?


    ¡°This is your performance,¡± I told her. ¡°I¡¯m just here to provide moral support.¡±


    Nobody would dare to question her presence within the Starlit Cloister while I was in the room. I doubted they would do anything regardless of that, but¡­ after seeing how bothered my daughter had been, I figured the least I could do is sit in.


    Songbird walked over to Esme and passed her the papers. Both of them started to talk them over together. I walked over to the desk on the right and started to look over the documents stacked on top of it. Good, everything that I was working on before was all accounted for.


    All of it was daunting to consider.


    I let out a sigh.


    If I want to actually lead the Church, then I need to be prepared to do the work. I can¡¯t just foist the job onto someone else, Taylor. That means going through all of this and doing my best to make sense of it.


    I reached out to the rough draft of the reorganization of the internal hierarchy that I¡¯d been sketching out. Once I had a skilled administrator that I could trust, I¡¯d have them examine my work for holes, then hear their suggestions on how to improve the system. Some parts of it were final and those positions I could already fill in, others were not.


    Songbird finished her discussion with Esme and sat down beside me. It would have been preferable if I could sit next to her, but I didn¡¯t want to make her uncomfortable.


    ¡°You¡¯re ready?¡± I asked Esme.


    She rang the bell beside her in reply.


    A woman in white walked in. She didn¡¯t say anything, just paused and turned her grey eyes towards me.


    ¡°She¡¯s performing the interview,¡± I told her.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Tell us your name,¡± Esme demanded, her lips turning down.


    She looked like a slab of misery.


    She wanted the woman to greet her first. It would be a show of deference from someone in a lower position of authority.


    ¡°Paloma,¡± she grated out towards Esme in reply.


    My eyes dropped from the figure that Esme was interrogating, back towards the conundrum on the tabletop piled with papers before me. One edict. Only, it had many variations. Which one was the correct one?


    Two votes per principality, or should the votes be determined by population? One vote for every hundred thousand citizens? The latter is more fair to the people, but there are so many reasons that make it impractical. The former is biased, but it¡¯s biased towards the northern principalities. I could also allocate votes based on how many members the church has in each Principality, but that would heavily skew the votes towards the south. The north are the ones that have to combat the real threats, biasing decision-making in their favour might be the correct decision.


    Songbird flicked my right leg. I stopped tapping the floor with my boots and found myself biting my lower lip instead.


    ¡°Tell us about your existing relationships with your friends and family.¡±


    ¡°My mother was a draper and my father died not even half a year past in the war-¡± her voice cracked.


    I felt a pang of sympathy for the woman.


    This was the second round of interviews. Esme was doing her best to eliminate those who we were certain did not possess the skills we required, or possessed ulterior motives. I made a short note on a page about what her dream was ¡ª it would help Esme put together a better picture of the woman later ¡ª then tuned her voice out.


    I continued to mull over the details of my reforms.


    There¡¯s also the organizational issue. It isn¡¯t hard for me to arrange frequent meetings for two representatives per principality. Arranging for hundreds would slow down our capacity to function. It would also grind decision-making to a halt when so many people have a voice. Then again, the House of Light in the south might rebel against my authority and split off from the rest of us if they don¡¯t feel they are given fair consideration. It wouldn''t surprise me if they felt it to be unfair to pay for projects that they''d never witness¡­ Urgh, make up your mind, Taylor.


    It would be so much easier if I was worried about the smaller positions of power rather than the actual positions of leadership in each principality. I¡¯m happy with the responsibilities I¡¯ve assigned to them outside their duties as representatives, but not with how many of them there should be. If it was day-to-day problems that concerned me, then I¡¯m confident that I could afford to make a mistake here and then fix it later, but it¡¯s not. It¡¯s a decision that I cannot afford to mess up at all. I need to get it right the first time.


    The interviews continued as I deliberated. Every so often I would look up and make a note of their dreams, then turn my attention back onto the draft. The process had almost drawn to a close by the time I had made up my mind.


    I leaned back into my chair and sighed as the last person walked out of the room.


    ¡°Have you decided how you wish to organize your fleet¡¯s crew?¡± Esme inquired.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to give the final draft of the edict to the right people to look over,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°D¡¯you want to bet on what she settled on for the people up top?¡± Songbird asked Esme.


    ¡°Two representatives from each principality, elected by the priests within those principalities. They have a long list of responsibilities,¡± I tapped the draft of the edict, ¡°but the most important part is their ability to vote on future church mandates. They meet once a year in Salia to vote. I retain the right to veto decisions if I disapprove, or issue edicts of my own. Only me or an appointed representative can put forward any proposals in the Highest Assembly.¡± I interjected.


    If I let Songbird get started on riling up Esme, then the two of them would bicker until dawn.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, you just took the fun out of betting with Esme,¡± Songbird pouted. ¡°This system runs lotsa risks as well. Why let anyone else have a say if you¡¯re the one that¡¯s really in charge? They¡¯re ¡®sically just advisors, but you¡¯re giving them ambitions by letting them vote on things on their own.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason I¡¯m choosing to lead this way. The Arlesites have different concerns to the Lycaonese, who also have different concerns from the Alamans. I get to put a finger on the pulse of these differences by making them vote on what they want, which is important if I don¡¯t want the House of Light to splinter. I¡¯m also not going to give my opinion on most matters, only the ones that I think warrant intervention.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯should ignore what everyone down south says and turn your attention to the undead up north.¡±


    ¡°What term lengths have you decided on for the representatives? Esme inquired.


    ¡°A decade. Each Principality will have its own administrative division which will keep records, which will be returned to the central authority in Salia once a year to be consolidated. The annual financial results will be made available to the public and audited. There will be rules governing how discrepancies should be handled, but those will be left up to my eventual financial advisor to determine.¡±


    The only question in my mind was whether the audit should be internal or external. I was leaning towards an internal audit. While that was prone to problems of corruption, I trusted the nobility far less than the priests. Well, that and if I gave the authority to audit House of Light accounts away to the Princes, there wasn¡¯t a way to reclaim it afterwards without a war. And there was the other looming issue that I was trying to avoid causing. Even trying to give that kind of authority away to outsiders would likely cause a religious schism.


    ¡°Do you intend for them to budget for themselves, or have you charted a different course?¡±


    ¡°This is something I intend to take up with the treasurer once we decide on who should occupy the position,¡± I evaded.


    ¡°Do you mean to tell me that you have not given this any thought?¡± Esme pursed her lips.


    ¡°I have, but this is something that I know will require review from an expert. My initial thoughts are for each House of Light to maintain their own budget and keep between twenty and fifty percent in excess of the coin they require to function as a margin of safety. The rest would be allocated towards larger church projects that fall under the mandate of the House of Light at large.¡±


    ¡°I spent some time dissecting the church accounts and noted taxes of both finished goods and raw materials taken from those on land belonging to the House of Light. Candles, metals mined out of the ground, produce, furniture. What of them?¡±


    ¡°Goods will be categorized depending on a number of factors, including whether they will perish and how liquid they are. Those categories will then be handled on a case by case basis. Here is the full documentation I made for accounting,¡± I picked up a stack of parchments detailing budgeting and walked across to Esme.


    She took them with her bloodstained hands and began to read.


    While I wasn¡¯t certain how good her education was among the nobility, there was no harm in allowing her to inspect my work. The more people that reviewed it before implementation, the safer my plans potentially were. I knew that the nitty-gritty details of budgeting for an institution this large was beyond me. Fortunately, it was not the role that I intended to occupy.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you¡¯ve got plans for your paladins in there somewhere?¡±


    ¡°These,¡± I said, walking over to the table, picking up a dense stack of worn sheets and dumped them in front of Songbird, ¡°are for you.¡±


    ¡°A Stranger¡¯s Guide to Names in Calernia,¡± her brow furrowed. ¡°S¡¯not plans for paladins,¡± she complained as she leafed through the draft.


    I sat back down once more. Better to stay far away from Esme. She didn¡¯t deserve to be burned.


    ¡°It¡¯s a summarized outline of the general shape of every story that I know from my old life. It also contains some commentary on local stories and parts of my diary,¡± I agreed. ¡°I want that copied, turned into a set of books, and then distributed to a priest from each principality.¡±


    At least half of the pages had just been copied out of my diary and translated to Chantant. It was more a collection of ideas than a proper book. That wasn¡¯t important. Other heroes and villains didn¡¯t record the lessons they learned for fear of those lessons being turned against them. This was my attempt to break from the mould and hopefully help heroes to win just a little more in the process.


    ¡°S¡¯pose this is why you hadn¡¯t sent for scribes yet. There¡¯s lotsa pages here.¡±


    ¡°It took me a while to settle on the final manuscript.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Oh and¡­ Don¡¯t put my name on the final copy.¡±


    ¡°Thought you weren¡¯t ashamed of your past.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not, but I gave up my right to those stories. I¡¯m not sure if there¡¯s a risk of something bad happening if I claim ownership of them.¡±


    ¡°Pfft,¡± Songbird snorted, ¡°you¡¯re being ridiculous. S¡¯not like these notes are full stories, just brief explanations.¡±


    ¡°It also contains remnants of stories that aren¡¯t mine. I don¡¯t want to present someone else¡¯s work as my own, either.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not like the author of those stories is gonna cross dimensions and shank you.¡±


    ¡°You never know.¡±


    ¡°D¡¯you think that the guard from your old home will teleport into the church if you copy someone else¡¯s book?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making it sound like copyright law exists across all dimensions.¡±


    ¡°I am unfamiliar with copyright law, would you mind shedding some light on what it is?¡± Esme added, looking up from the documents she held.


    ¡°Not important. A very bad, concise explanation of them that works in this context is that they¡¯re laws relating to the ownership of text.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯pose if you won¡¯t put your name on the book, then I¡¯ll just put that where the author¡¯s name goes,¡± Songbird¡¯s voice was laced with just a hint of mischief.


    I narrowed my eyes.


    ¡°Put what?¡±


    ¡°Copyright law exists across all dimensions.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll put it on the contents page, then,¡± she sang.


    ¡°Song.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯should give the House of Light your blessing so that they can copy the book.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not how it works.¡±


    ¡°Just in case.¡±


    ¡°When will the third round of interviews take place?¡± I changed the topic.


    ¡°Once we¡¯ve finished eliminating candidates that don¡¯t fit. S¡¯gonna be the biggest time waste.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve messed up leadership before,¡± I breathed out. ¡°This time I want to do it right. That means I need to have advisors and listen to them. The problem is that I can¡¯t fill every role, and whoever advises me will always know a lot more than I do. I¡¯m not even the right person to judge if they¡¯re the right person in a lot of cases. For this to work, I need to be able to trust people, which means¡­¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯re gonna be anal about the selection process. I get that y¡¯want the best people for each job, but having every candidate set a test for all the others is taking this too far.¡±


    ¡°It really isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Only a shipwright can properly criticize another man¡¯s boat,¡± Esme agreed.


    ¡°And what happens when they get crafty about this? Score each other low, or set a test that only they can pass.¡±


    ¡°They can try. It won¡¯t work. Esme can catch them out. Playing by the spirit of the rules is the most important part. And after disqualifying anyone who tries¡­ We create an aggregate score across every test, weighting each test equally. The remaining candidate with the highest score is the one who earns the position.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯pretty sure this system will cause problems.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Takes forever to choose someone and s¡¯not possible to game it easily. Nobles that joined the church but were still used to being listened to aren¡¯t gonna be happy. ¡®Specially when they don¡¯t get the jobs.¡±


    ¡°Second round eliminates most of them anyhow. The process will also be refined for the future. That cuts down on the time. We¡¯re eliminating anyone that you think I won¡¯t be able to work with, remember?¡±


    ¡°Anyhow, I¡¯ll handle this,¡± Songbird raised the pile to me and departed the room.


    I was about to return to the actual paladin proposal ¡ª which I intended for Cordelia to look over for many reasons first ¡ª when Esme spoke up once more.


    ¡°What would be the appropriate manner to apologize to your daughter?¡±


    Each word crept out of her mouth slower than the drift of the continent.


    They still took me by surprise.


    ¡°Talk to her and be sincere.¡±


    ¡°I know which apology gifts would suit a peer among the nobility, but am not aware of the correct protocol governing gifts for heroes.¡± She stood, pushed her chair in, walked over and stacked my proposal neatly beside me.


    ¡°A gift isn¡¯t going to earn her forgiveness.¡±


    A magical treatise written by one of the Gigantes just might, but I didn¡¯t want to send Esme off on a hare brained quest to find one.


    ¡°Observing proper courtesies is about showing respect to whoever you are communicating with,¡± she emphasized.


    That¡¯s¡­ not how emotions work.


    ¡°It will be hard to earn her forgiveness, but I think it¡¯s good that you want to try.¡±


    ¡°I felt like I was standing alone facing the oncoming storm when I argued with Pascal in the cathedral,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°I heard that she wondered out loud why the priests hadn¡¯t killed you.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t alone. Had I not acted against Yvette in haste, the two of us might have been friends. I wish to make amends.¡± She sounded wistful. I didn¡¯t know why, and I wasn¡¯t prepared to ask.


    ¡°Earning her trust will be a long journey.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s best that I raise the sails early.¡±

 Concord 5.11

    ¡°One makes more appreciable gains through the failures of their enemies than through the successes of their allies.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Empress Malicia


    <hr>


    ¡°Y¡¯should stop pacing so we can start, Taylor.¡±


    ¡°Found a place for me yet?¡± I reached the panelled wall of the room, then turned and faced the seated redhead as I continued to pace.


    ¡°S¡¯pose you¡¯re not letting that go.¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna be up here whenever you¡¯re working,¡± she huffed.


    ¡°Working and living are different. Yvie would feel uncomfortable. It¡¯s why she is staying with Roland back in the city.¡±


    ¡°It is only appropriate for the captain to have quarters of her own,¡± Esme added from her table at the far end of the room.


    I came to a stop behind Songbird at an artist¡¯s rendition of a priest I didn¡¯t recognize crowning one of the princes, then turned once again.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll find somewhere for you.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°You should stop procrastinating,¡± Esme chastised.


    ¡°Speaking of Roland,¡± I ignored her good advice, ¡°I know he¡¯s spent a lot of money helping out. I¡¯m sure the House of Light has some old magical artefacts confiscated and stored away somewhere. They¡¯re probably accumulating dust and not doing much else. He¡¯d put them to better use.¡±


    Esme gave me a flat stare from the side.


    ¡°I¡¯ll look into it. M¡¯sure he¡¯d appreciate the sentiment. Now, time¡¯s wasting, Taylor. Lotsa people outside the door.¡±


    ¡°You really want me to leave the Holy Society alone?¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Y¡¯know who they are. Means that you can control what they know.¡±


    She raised her crystal wineglass off the table surface and gave me a salute with it, then took a small sip of the liquid within.


    ¡°Not if we give them positions of authority. They¡¯re spies!¡± I stopped pacing.


    ¡°They¡¯re also born nobles who have the skills that you need. ¡®Sides, s¡¯not as bad as you think.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°They gave up their position in their family to serve the House of Light.¡±


    ¡°They still have prior loyalties.¡±


    ¡°Family ashore gives crew hope when faced with the darkest of storms. A split crew only matters when there is more than one captain aboard.¡±


    ¡°Think about what it means,¡± Songbird argued.


    I stopped pacing and considered Songbird¡¯s words. The Holy Society was not the same as Holies, although there was some overlap between both groups. It was an informal organization of former nobles within the House of Light who had ¡ª for one reason or another ¡ª renounced their noble title and joined the House of Light. Their members had no direct influence on official church policy unless they were also a member of the Holies. This was true even before I took over.


    But¡­ They had other problems.


    They had existing loyalties to their families. I didn¡¯t expect people to stop caring about their families because they joined the House of Light, but those families had so much power that it made matters complicated. Furthermore, Songbird had brought it to my attention that some of them served as informants to the nobility. Even though I wasn¡¯t trying to keep my goals secret, I still didn¡¯t like the idea of keeping somebody who was loyal to someone else so close to me. The idea of giving them a position of leadership was even worse.


    There was more to it than that.


    Some of them left their families due to bad blood. Others out of ambition. They were too low on the family totem pole and felt they could achieve more in the House of Light. A smattering of them joined the House of Light because they were genuinely faithful.


    It left me conflicted when taken as a whole.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Recall, Taylor, that the remaining candidates who are also members of the Holy Society showed themselves to be exemplary in the prior three stages of interviews. All of them have surpassed your expectations.¡±


    ¡°Come sit down,¡± Songbird pointed to the chair beside her.


    I did as much.


    Songbird stood up, dusted down her ankle length white dress, and proceeded to open the door.


    The first of my potential advisors strolled in.


    With close-cropped silver hair, an angular face and wily features, Brother Simon of Gorgeault looked like an aged fox. For someone who I guessed was in his early sixties, time had been kind to him. He was the leader of the Holy Society, and it was certain that he would share what he learned of me with friends of his among the nobility.


    On the other hand¡­ he dreamed of peace, and he was certain to be competent.


    ¡°Your presence brightens the house, Chosen,¡± the man sketched a bow.


    ¡°Morning.¡±


    ¡°Have you come to a decision regarding my eligibility for an advisory position?¡±


    There were a few people who had excelled to a similar degree after the third round of interviews. I¡¯d decided to take the top three in each category and spring their first actual major problem on them. All of them were talented enough that I would be happy with any of them advising me. I was doing the equivalent of dropping a natural disaster on top of them and seeing how they would handle it.


    The one who performed best would be my final candidate.


    ¡°This is the rough draft of my planned hierarchy for the House of Light,¡± I pointed towards a pile of papers. ¡°I want your opinion on it.¡±


    Songbird picked it up and handed it to the man, then returned to her chair.


    There were a tense few moments as he flicked through from one page to another.


    ¡°I foresee several issues with your proposal,¡± he began.


    ¡°Go on,¡± the tap of my boot against the cold stone floor rang out my impatience.


    ¡°The first is the conflation between positions of leadership and representatives for voting on overall House of Light mandate. Before I explain how I think you should resolve this, could you shed light on your intentions?¡±


    I was about to retort that this was his chance to show what he could do and not his chance to interview me, but chose to bite back the words. Whoever ended up advising me would need to understand my intentions if they were to offer good advice. I needed to share my thoughts, even if I was predisposed to dislike the man due to his existing loyalties.


    ¡°I have the final word on all major decisions, but the day to day running of the House of Light is managed in each principality by the representatives. There are two representatives to create the opportunity for different perspectives from within the same principality to clash with each other. The representatives are elected from among the clergy in the capital city of each Principality.¡±


    It would have been better to elect them from across the entire principality, but it was also not feasible to do. The people involved in the voting process would need a way to recognize the candidates, and there wasn¡¯t an easy way to do that across such a wide area. The capitals had the most influence, which made them the best compromise.


    I continued to lay out my reasoning. Brother Simon listened, his focus never wavering as I spoke.


    It was a while before I finished talking, and my tongue was drier than a desert near the end.


    ¡°My first recommendation would be to issue a series of edicts declaring certain matters to be sacrosanct and beyond the authority of the elected representatives.¡±


    ¡°Example?¡±


    ¡°The representatives shouldn¡¯t be permitted to address the Highest Assembly. Only you should maintain that right, or an appointed person that you trust to speak in your place. This would forestall them from using their ability to address the Highest Assembly as a tool to underwrite your own authority.¡±


    It was a good point, but it was one that I had considered myself. I wanted to see if he brought anything new to the table. The problem with the idea was that implementing it would require a motion to be passed by the Highest Assembly that recognized me as the sole priest with the authority to approach them. There was nothing stopping them from approaching the Highest Assembly without my permission, unless the Highest Assembly itself acknowledged my authority.


    I didn¡¯t want to make rules that I couldn¡¯t enforce.


    ¡°Anything else?¡±


    ¡°The representatives should be invested with the authority to appoint their own hierarchies within each Principality. The economy, politics, and culture of the Lycaonese principalities differs greatly from that of the Arlesite principalities. It would be folly to apply the same system to both regions. Limitations should be placed on how much power they could bestow upon others, but a leader needs to be able to delegate responsibility to others, and you cannot expect to govern the entire House of Light on your own.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure that I liked this idea. I¡¯d already given representatives the ability to appoint a fixed selection of helpers into defined positions of authority. The representatives were tasked with the leadership of the House of Light within their own principality, but could not change the official policies without voting on them together at the annual meeting. Collecting taxes, ordering the construction of new infrastructure within budget constraints, maintaining existing infrastructure, trade negotiations, and similar duties all fell within the purview of the representatives and their allocated staff.


    Any action which would place a significant strain on the House of Light¡¯s coffers would require my approval first. This included ambitious civic projects, but was not limited to them. Large scale projects would remain within my purview for a while. The representatives were also incapable of adjusting taxation rates without making an appeal, or overturning any bans that I theoretically imposed on trading with unapproved outside factions.


    The amount of minutiae involved in defining exactly who could do what was dizzying, and I knew that I needed help to look over it all.


    ¡°How about the budget?¡±


    ¡°I applied for the position of political advisor and not the position of financial advisor,¡± he replied, amused.


    ¡°Fair.¡±


    ¡°However, there is some criticism with regard to politics that intersects with financing which I believe that you need to be aware of,¡± he licked his lips then continued. ¡°You have assigned representatives with numerous duties, but few privileges.¡±


    ¡°And you think this is a mistake,¡± I mused.


    ¡°Consider for a moment that the House of Light has thousands of priests counted among its ranks, but you are the only person who could make a credible claim at being a saint. I have not taken any oaths, and I am not alone in this. While the Servants of the Heavens should not concern themselves with the sentiments of mundane powers, and only that their acts are just in the eyes of Above, I fear that many do not.¡±


    ¡°Leadership is a responsibility, not a prize to be won.¡±


    ¡°The sentiment is shared, but the practical tarnishes my perspective. It is better for you to account for the nature of our fellow priests than to ignore it. I am not expecting for the rewards for the faithful to be as bountiful as they were under the tenure of the Holies. However, many among the priesthood will not serve in a position of authority if there is no additional benefit in doing so. You could enforce your dictates with force should you choose to act like a tyrant ¡ª indeed, I suspect that it may be the wiser course and the one I would likely follow ¡ª but it is laudable that you approach the challenge with more moderate intentions first.¡±


    ¡°The House of Light does not exist as an institution for the purpose of personal enrichment.¡±


    ¡°If you continue to hold others to the same standards that you set for yourself, Chosen, then there will not be a House of Light, only a House of One.¡±


    You might be right about that, but it doesn¡¯t mean that I have to like it.


    ¡°Your idea?¡±


    ¡°Incentives can come in many forms. I recommend considering the matter from at least two different approaches. The first would be setting aside a small portion of the overall budget for investing into indulgent expenditures. While the percentage of the House of Light¡¯s total revenue it would account for would be small, the absolute value of it would be substantial. The second incentive would be to afford the leaders more privileges.¡±


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that I should just allow them access to a not insignificant amount of money for personal use?¡±


    ¡°That would be one possible interpretation of my suggestion,¡± Brother Simon sucked at a loose tooth before continuing. ¡°You could also set aside the fund as a significant lump sum. The representatives would then vote on who is able to spend that sum once a year during the annual gathering. This would divert their attention towards fighting among themselves over a prize that has already been written off, rather than on attempting to undermine your authority.¡±


    ¡°Only the southern principalities would ever win.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that the north would care for it at all,¡± he shrugged. ¡°If you intend for a more fair distribution of this fund, then you could cycle it between principalities on a twenty-four-year cycle, or divide it equally every year.¡±


    Is there any benefit to doing this at all? This just seems like a way to sow strife.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    ¡°Next, I suggest reducing the number of representatives per principality from two to one. Having only a single leader would increase the efficiency of the system by preventing any potential disagreements at the highest level of authority.¡±


    It isn¡¯t the highest level of authority. I am, and I can step in if squabbles ever boil over.


    ¡°You think that outweighs the benefits of having different perspectives?¡±


    ¡°There is nothing preventing those perspectives from being retained by insisting that the leader of each principality has advisors representing the interests of their people.¡±


    ¡°The advisors aren¡¯t a direct challenge to their position of leadership, though.¡±


    Is he right, or would more representatives be better? It would force all decisions to go through a coalition, which while requiring more work would be less prone to corruption.


    ¡°You should consider appointing the leaders of each Principality yourself, rather than requiring the priests of each capital city to elect them. The amount of paperwork organizing a vote like this would create is not insignificant, even when restricting the elections to occurring only once a decade and without insisting that every priest votes.¡±


    I was hoping that Cordelia¡¯s wizards managed to reverse engineer scrying. It would be a long time before it became commonplace, but having access to rapid communication would open the doors to proper voting, among other things.


    ¡°They can still make a more informed decision than I can.¡±


    ¡°Appointing them yourself would grant you a tighter degree of control. Those who were appointed would feel some measure of debt towards you, be less likely to turn on you, and have a higher chance of meeting whatever personal criteria you have for them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true.¡±


    Is it worth it? I¡­ don¡¯t think so. Giving the priests the opportunity to vote on their leaders gives them the illusion of control. It doesn¡¯t matter if they aren¡¯t able to pass anything I disapprove of, if they can come to agreement on less pivotal matters of governance. Besides, I can step in if it becomes necessary. I¡¯m more likely to make a bad choice when selecting leaders as well, because there is no way for me to spend enough time around all of them to learn who should be in charge.


    ¡°You must have dedicated an extensive amount of time towards outlining the process of removing representatives, considering how detailed it is. Your checks and balances in the form of both the inquisition, yourself and rival candidates are¡­ adequate. However, the lack of a procedure to appoint another leader to your own position is an oversight which it is imperative that you correct.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason for that.¡±


    Brother Simons gave me a flat look.


    ¡°There will come times when you need to travel, or are otherwise indisposed, and another individual will be required to fill your shoes. This would remain true even if you were immortal.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    Brother Simon continued to criticize my work for another half hour. I was lukewarm on many of his proposals. He had a heavy focus on making it easy for the representatives to undertake the duties that I wanted them to perform, while making it challenging for them to do anything else. He often suggested cutting away complications in governance, while he suggested adding complications to the voting process. Systems designed to force representatives to fight among each other. It reminded me of what I had read of the Highest Assembly. The intention was to curtail the power of the representatives rather than the First Prince, while still giving them scraps to fight over. I found it distasteful. It was a solution that was distinctly Proceran in nature. I could see where Simon was coming from, but that that didn¡¯t mean that I appreciated it.


    At last, it appeared he was reaching the end of his lengthy speech.


    ¡°My final recommendation is that you dismantle the Holy Society for the same reasons that you broke apart the Holies. You should then establish an official position within your hierarchy for facilitating the same channels of communications as the Holy Society, absent of the cloak and dagger theatrics that it presently operates under.¡±


    I stiffened. That wasn¡¯t disbanding the Holy Society so much as it was acknowledging that it existed and giving it my blessing.


    He only phrased it that way to make it more palatable to me. I¡¯m sure of it.


    ¡°A liaison between the House of Light and the nobility?¡±


    ¡°It is a role that you have overlooked during this selection process, and it is the one that I would much rather apply for should the position exist. I would like to serve as an intermediary between you and the First Prince.¡±


    ¡°You applied for the position of political advisor,¡± I tapped my fingers on the cool, smooth table surface in irritation, matching the rhythm to the bacon crackle of rain outside.


    ¡°I did so with the intention of using the application process as an opportunity to take the measure of one who would claim to be our leader.¡±


    Really?


    ¡°What have you found?¡± my fingers stilled, and my eyes narrowed on the man.


    ¡°You are unschooled in matters of politics, but strive to amend that deficiency. You are idealistic and wish to build a House of Light that is both more involved in people¡¯s lives, but also less entangled with the games of the nobility. I believe that you will serve as an adequate leader, but will make many mistakes as you acclimatize to the role. You are a true Servant of the Heavens, but expect too much of everyone else.¡±


    Brother Simon chose every word with care. It felt as if I was watching someone navigate a field of landmines, rather than observing a man speak. I suspected that there was plenty he was holding off on sharing his thoughts about.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°I withdraw my request to serve as your political advisor. When you decide that you require an emissary between yourself and the First Prince, then you can consider this my formal application. I bid you good day, Chosen.¡±


    I feel like him withdrawing from this isn¡¯t a great start.


    The man bowed then turned, before departing from the room.


    ¡°Thoughts?¡± I turned to the others.


    ¡°Brother Simon believes that you trust the Gods more than you trust people and considers the attitude to be distasteful,¡± Esme stated.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. I posit that you remind him of a former lover in that regard.¡±


    ¡°Sister Dominique,¡± Songbird piped in after rustling around in her dossier on the man and holding a crumpled page my way. ¡°The two of them fell out at some point. Prob¡¯ly because of that.¡±


    ¡°The man can dislike me but still do a good job. Do you think his advice was offered in good faith?¡±


    ¡°Brother Simon is sincere when he speaks of his conviction that the House of Light should serve the Gods. However, Brother Simon is loyal to the nobility above the church and thus has cause to undermine your authority. I suggest that you remain cautious around him.¡±


    ¡°Brother Simon holds you in high regard. He¡¯s conflicted because you remind him of his girlfriend before they broke up. Some of his biases shone through because of that. He was using this as an excuse to say things he would¡¯ve wanted to say to her at the time, since they were tangentially relevant to your proposals. Y¡¯should consider his advice,¡± Songbird grinned at Esme.


    ¡°Why does it not surprise me that Taylor¡¯s pet snake suggests making her bed in a nest of vipers,¡± Esme scowled.


    ¡°S¡¯pose it¡¯s only fitting that our token dunce-¡±


    ¡°I will consider what he said, along with the advice of every other candidate today,¡± I interjected.


    The two of them finalized their notes. Esme glared at Songbird while she gave her appraisal of Simon. Songbird hummed a merry tune.


    It was only a few moments before the next candidate was called in.


    The process was slow, but we gradually made our way through all the applications. They were each presented with the same set of proposals ¡ª I didn¡¯t make adjustments based off of previous advice, as it would be unfair ¡ª and I got a glimpse of the kind of advice that each of them would give.


    The criticism of my proposed hierarchy was the harshest, but adjusting my plans to account for it would require by far the least amount of effort. It was when the first person applying for the position of financial advisor started to tear into my ideas that I at last acknowledged just how much I would need to delegate if I wanted to succeed.


    There was no easy or fast way to manage it all by myself.


    Songbird had left by that point to handle other important correspondence.


    Esme tried to remain seated straight, but every so often her head would droop, and her jet black hair would slip over her face. She looked as exhausted as I felt.


    ¡°Insisting that every church maintains a margin of safety is idiotic,¡± sister Jade complained.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what you¡¯re trying to do, and I¡¯m not going to be nice about telling you this. If I let you think that you¡¯re in any way qualified to spend the House of Light¡¯s money with proposals this absurd, then we¡¯ll run out of coins before the year is out.¡±


    Her sapphire eyes bored holes into my robes.


    ¡°What do you suggest?¡±


    Sister Jade had been one of the archivists in the Starlit Cloister. Her knowledge of finances was mostly academic and had been established over time from handling the older records when they were filed away. Despite lacking a noble upbringing, she still excelled in the interview process.


    ¡°Having an emergency reserve set aside is a good idea, but it should be maintained by whomever you appoint as leader of each principality and not the individual churches.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Most of our lands and holdings can sustain themselves. They don¡¯t require outside funding to function and when they do, it¡¯s in times of emergency. Famines, plagues, earthquakes, wars, and the like. Having money on hand won¡¯t do anything when the world around them is falling into one of the many hells. It¡¯s likely that the coin would just go missing instead. The individual churches can petition for relief in times of trouble instead of sustaining a fund themselves.¡±


    ¡°What about the risk of funds being misused?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easier for you to scrutinize the work of a single person responsible for managing the finances in each Principality than it is to observe every House of Light. It also costs less and involves less busywork, which would help save on the final budget.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still a single point of failure.¡±


    ¡°You can create a contingency for that contingency if you like, but excess preparation would be a form of stupidity of its own.¡±


    ¡°What else do you disapprove of?¡±


    ¡°Your inquisition is a good idea, however it will take time for them to learn the necessary skills for proper investigative work. You need to organize the House of Light such that their burden is minimized. You cannot afford for them to always be gallivanting across the entirety of Procer if you want them to be effective. I suggest that they perform routine visits at each appointed leader, then randomized visits throughout the decade. There is also the-¡±


    ¡°In terms of budgeting,¡± I raised my hand and interrupted.


    She raised a wrinkled hand, pushed back her greying blonde hair, and gave me another glare.


    ¡°You seem to be under the misapprehension that we are able to consistently tax all church holdings. The Starlit Cloister only contains records for Salia itself. There are many places that cannot be taxed for one reason or another. This could be because they are too small and too far away for it to be cost-effective, but there are other reasons. Smaller agricultural holdings under our purview produce enough to sustain themselves, but little more. Some of our lands also have income that varies dramatically from year to year based on elements outside our control and will be taxable in some years but not during others. The church owns no land in the Lycaonese territories and are not allowed to collect taxes there either. Do you understand the point that I am trying to make?¡±


    I already accounted for the Lycaonese. I acknowledged that they have to pay rent to the princes, and it wouldn¡¯t be sensible for us to treat them the same as anywhere further south. It¡¯s on page fifteen of my proposal. Agriculture is on page twenty-two. It makes provisions for seasonal changes and dramatic rises and falls in crop yields. But sure, I understand the point, even if you didn¡¯t read as carefully as you should have.


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°It is still possible for us to estimate how much it would cost to provide aid to those holdings in the event of a disaster, but expecting reliable income from them is utter idiocy. The sheer quantity of excess work it would generate is unjustifiable and would cost the House of Light more than it would be worth to tax them. Furthermore, any holdings which are taxed should receive some benefit as a result. The purpose of a tax is to provide services to the people you are taxing. If you are not providing them with any services, they will revolt, and they would have every right to.¡±


    ¡°Who should we tax and why?¡±


    Sister Jade continued to criticize my ideas. Everything from how I had divided the budget to what it would require in terms of manpower to implement. The next potential advisor came in after she was done and provided a similar tirade.


    It was draining. It was also educational, although there were often times when the would-be advisor missed details from my proposals.


    Songbird came back in by the time I was done with a sickle for a smile.


    ¡°Good news?¡±


    ¡°Got word that the fighting came to an end at Cantal. Cordelia won.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯re on a time limit.¡±


    I wanted to have the House of Light in order before the new First Prince was officially crowned.


    ¡°Don¡¯t s¡¯pose you could put your seal on this for me?¡±


    I took the parchment and looked at it.


    The House of Light is the only institution that has my permission to redistribute ¡®A Stranger¡¯s Guide to Names in Calernia.¡¯ Penalties for failing to adhere to this include.


    ¡°Include what?¡± I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°S¡¯not specified on purpose,¡± she grinned.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t how stories work, you know that?¡±


    ¡°Put your seal on it anyhow,¡± Songbird waved her hand my way as if she was dismissing an insect.


    ¡°Only on official documents,¡± I shook my head. ¡°Best you¡¯re getting is my name. Anything more would be irresponsible.¡±


    ¡°It would be ideal if you ignored this bedraggled clown¡¯s jests,¡± Esme sniffed.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, that might be even better. Nobody¡¯d believe it¡¯s real.¡±


    I shrugged, then reached across the table, picked up a quill and signed it.


    ¡°Here. What are you even going to do with it?¡±


    ¡°Put it in the first place someone will look for things.¡±


    ¡°What, why?¡± I blinked, meeting the brown of her eyes.


    ¡°That way, nobody snooping around for hidden secrets ever finds it.¡±


    That made absolutely no sense to me, but it also wasn¡¯t worth worrying over.


    ¡°Did you find records on the Order of the White Hand?¡±


    The Order of the White Hand was Callow¡¯s paladin order until the current Black Knight did them in. I was mostly interested in how expensive it was to fund them, but I doubted I¡¯d have any luck finding out. I still wanted to know as much about them as I could. It was the best way to avoid repeating any mistakes that they might have made.


    ¡°M¡¯still having people look.¡±


    ¡°Ask sister Jade to look into it if you need to. She¡¯ll definitely know where to find the records I¡¯m looking for, or she¡¯ll know who to ask. I¡¯ll need to know as much about them as possible to make a proper argument.¡±


    ¡°Have the two of you made up your mind yet?¡± Songbird changed the topic once more.


    I turned back to Esme and the notes on my table.


    ¡°There is little more to discuss before we set sail,¡± she stated.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯ll go over all the notes we made one last time, but I think I¡¯m ready to decide how I¡¯m going to be organizing the House of Light.¡±


    I knew that I would make some mistakes along the way but¡­ I hoped they weren¡¯t unrecoverable.


    There was far too much at stake for me to make a mess of things.


    I didn¡¯t want to worry about my own house burning down when I finally approached the Highest Assembly with my concerns.

 Concord 5.0h

    ¡°There isn¡¯t a problem so large that it cannot be solved with plenty of lies and violence.¡±


    ¡ª Catherine Foundling


    <hr>


    Jacques¡¯s watch was almost at its end. Soon, he could retire to the land of dreams and let another poor fool take a turn on the walls. And for what? It wasn¡¯t as if the northern savages were going to breach the defences. Fools, the lot of them. Only they were mad enough to make war during the heart of winter. Prince Arnaud didn¡¯t even need to give battle. The city had more than enough supplies to last out the season.


    They only needed to wait.


    Wait and laugh, while the Lycaonese froze and starved outside the walls.


    Then, when the season ended or the stragglers surrendered, they could raise the gates and search the corpses.


    His patrol of the battlements brought him to one of the midway towers along the northern wall. He turned and started to make his way back towards the gatehouse.


    Nothing happened.


    There was nought to see, and still he was damned to guard the walls before the sun had even seen fit to rise.


    Not even the Lycaonese were mad enough to sally forth during a night like this one. The wind howled, screamed like the lost souls of those who were sacrificed on the altars to the east. Snow piled thick below the battlements. The moat had frozen over. Even the warmth of the torch in his hand offered little relief against the cold. It flickered like a lazy candle. Every serious gust threatened to snuff it out.


    A horn bellowed from somewhere further along the walls.


    One of the other guards had given the alarm.


    Jacques came to a halt and stared through the arrow loops. Torches, as far as the eye could see, some thirty feet below and over a mile out. The muted glow was doubled over as it reflected off the frozen waters. The enemy soldiers were forming up under dawn¡¯s light on the left of their camp. Just past the neat rows of tents nestled behind a ditch and a stockade, in the gap between their fortifications and the shores of Lake Louvant.


    The northern savages were forming up.


    They were outside their defences.


    It appeared that not even winter¡¯s bite deterred them.


    Were they insane? He could just make out the shape of an odd curved reflective surface in the distance. The Lycaonese engineers had been working on some manner of esoteric piece of siege equipment for the past few days.


    It wasn¡¯t a machine that any of their own engineers recognized. It looked more like the work of a Praesi sorcerer than anything that belonged in the Proceran heartlands.


    Jacques turned away from the savages and started to march across the top of the wall towards the spiral staircase leading down into the gatehouse.


    Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.


    His boots against the snow.


    Clink. Clink. Clink.


    His boots against the smooth stone stairs.


    He squinted in the dim light. The door to the gatehouse creaked as he opened it.


    The hearth crackled heartily, casting off shadows that danced throughout the room. Over the chairs and tables, along the bedrolls on the floor and across the bleeding out bodies of his comrades.


    Betrayal.


    It had to be.


    But what was their goal? The gate mechanism, it had to be. Open the gate, then jam the mechanism. Only a few small steps, and then the traitor would allow the northern savages within the sanctity of their walls.


    What should he do? He owed Prince Arnaud nothing. There was no reason for Jacques to bleed and die for a fancy ass on a throne. The prince was unpleasant and there were rumours about him. Rumours about girls who would visit, then disappear soon after. Why the fuck should he care about what someone like Prince Arnaud would order?


    Men like Jacques were expected to just die obediently for their owners, while the princes traded a few inches of land back and forth from one season to the next. Jacques was sick of it all. He was tired of seeing friends, kin and distant acquaintances die from season to season in this utterly pointless war.


    He hesitated for a moment as he considered what to do.


    Jacques was certain he would die if he decided not to act and his inaction was ever discovered. If Jacques had to choose between his current master and the northern savages, then¡­ there was only one real answer, wasn¡¯t there?


    At least his current master was civilized.


    The metallic cry of his sword rang out as Jacques prepared for a fight. The flame of his torch came next. He snuffed it, dropped it to the ground. It would do him no good below. He proceeded with caution, made his way past the bodies, then down the wooden staircase towards the room housing the gate mechanism.


    Jacques wasn¡¯t sure which was louder.


    The creaking of the stairs or the thumping of his own heart.


    The clanking of the mechanism muffled his own steps. He picked up his pace. Jacques couldn¡¯t allow the savages even this small victory. Four figures were focused on turning the rusted iron crank.


    They were so invested in what their current activity that they didn¡¯t even notice as he approached.


    Jacques dashed forward. He brought up his sword, then brought it down on the neck of the first. They let out a shriek and shoved him back. He stumbled, came to a stop against one of the room¡¯s supporting pillars.


    Need to even the odds.


    ¡°Have you no pride? Why betray us to the Hasenbach?¡± he called out.


    His enemy¡¯s blades rang out as they cleared their scabbards. The three of them started to approach. The forth whimpered and clasped at their own neck. They tried to rise, then collapsed onto the ground.


    ¡°Better the north holds the crown than allow this farce to drag on further,¡± the middle figure replied. It was familiar. Somebody he knew. Bertrand? Was that Bertrand?


    Jacques righted himself. His foot hooked into the legs of a brazier. He pushed against it. It tumbled over, spilling hot coals onto the ground between him and his foes. One of them yelped and shied away. He started to peddle backwards, keeping his eye on his foes and his blade raised. They spread out.


    ¡°Traitor,¡± Jacques spat out.


    ¡°We need to hurry. Get rid of him and return to opening the gate,¡± the woman on the left urged.


    She feinted forward.


    Jacques refused the bait. His back struck another wall. He was cornered.


    He let out a cry. Better to make sure the bastards perished, even if they did him in first. Fool. He should have called for support first. The man on the right darted forward. Jacques raised his blade, parried, only to be taken by another blade in the arm. He snarled, grabbed at his opponent and pulled them forward, impaling his blade in their gut. They thrashed, tried to pull away.


    It did them no good.


    ¡°We¡¯re making a mess of this. Work quicker, we only have so much time,¡± the woman hissed.


    Jacques held his victim tight against himself, even as he felt more cuts nicking at his sides. The man leaned in. Took a bite out of his neck. Jacques¡¯s hands were slick with blood and his head was woozy, but he persevered.


    Better Prince Amadis or Princess Aenor than the Hasenbach.


    He let out another cry and then ambled forward, falling against one of the other assailants. It was Bertrand. The man stumbled, dropped his sword. Jacques grabbed it, panted, he was short of breath.


    ¡°Damn you, stop fighting, Jacques,¡± Bertrand exclaimed.


    A glint out of the corner of his eyes. He raised the blade. Met the oncoming sword. There was a loud clang. He trembled from the impact. It was hard to maintain his grip. Dizzy. Light-headed. He needed to¡­ to. To what?


    I¡¯m going to die, aren¡¯t I?


    The words in his mind were muted, distant, as if they echoed out from across the lake.


    Then it was best that he take as many of them with him as possible. Give his last moments some meaning. Make them matter.


    The woman struck again. This time, her blade buried itself in his gut. Jacques leaned into it. Her eyes widened as he grabbed her and pulled her close.


    ¡°What are you. No, no, no. Let go of me!¡± She protested, shaking her short crop of crimson hair from side to side.


    Jacques felt the sweet sting of her blade as he welcomed it inside himself. Felt it, then let it pass. He brought his own blade up, buried it inside of her. Bertrand watched from a few feet away, his own eyes open wide.


    Jacques heard the clang of metal boots on the bricks above. Reinforcements. The traitors wouldn¡¯t be opening the gate. He smiled. Smiled as the world became a wash of colours, then finally slipped away.


    At least the northern savages wouldn¡¯t be breaching the city after all.


    <hr>


    A green eagle perched atop a crescent fluttered on the flag dangling from atop the gatehouse.


    Klaus Papenheim lowered the looking glass from his eye. The drawbridge remained closed. He cursed, then spat at his right into a bank of snow. That plan had always had long odds. His niece had informed him of the presence of supporters within the walls who could lower the gates. Klaus hadn¡¯t counted on that scheme for success, but it would have made the entire affair a whole god-damned less messy to clean up.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Sabotage would have made breaching the walls a lot less bloody. If the second plan failed as well, then out came the ladders. Then it would be a conventional siege and well¡­ then, even if they scraped through to the other side, it would cost them dearly.


    He will win. On every path he wins.


    The words that had damned him to this southern slog haunted him. Mornings this far away from Hannoven had been indolent before winter had set in. It was easy to see how the Alamans had become so soft. Now the biting mist and howling winds dug deep into his men, keeping them awake and spry even at the earliest hours of the morning.


    His niece was a cast iron bitch. Tough as nails and harder than steel. She did what she believed was necessary, but nobody would ever love her for it. Forced marches through the harshest season had taken its toll on his troops. They had replenished supplies as they captured enemy fortresses along the way, then supplemented them even further with goods purchased from the dwarves at exorbitant rates.


    It did little to boost morale.


    The hourglass had been turned from the moment they began their southern campaign, and the sands had almost run out. All of them felt the foetid caress of death breathing down their necks from the north.


    The Empress has turned her gaze inwards. The lands to the east are riddled with strife and turmoil. She will interfere no further at this stage of the war.


    At least they would not need to contend with the Praesi breed of cloak and dagger nonsense on top of the Proceran variant of the same stupidity.


    ¡°Is the weapon ready?¡± He shouted out to the pale man toiling above on the scaffolds beside him.


    Klaus hadn¡¯t counted on having one of his siege engineers chosen by the heavens when he prepared for this campaign, but he was not above taking advantage of any windfalls that came his way. Godsdamnit, he¡¯d need them.


    He didn¡¯t pretend to understand the intricacies of the device the man had constructed, he¡¯d only observed the trial demonstrations of the smaller model. The ten-foot wide contraption was shaped like a dish with a section of elaborate paraphernalia in front of it. It was pointed towards the gates of Cantal.


    Klaus did not place much hope on the success of this venture, but was willing to gamble on the device if it spared the lives of his men.


    ¡°Almost, your grace. Just need a few more moments to calibrate it, and then ¡ª there!¡± The Gifted Maker exclaimed.


    ¡°All right, then. Everyone, move your asses out of the way, it¡¯s time to see if the lad¡¯s weapon works as advertised,¡± Klaus called out.


    The Gifted Maker scaled his way down the scaffold like a spider descending its web. A hundred white robes drew close. The priests. The hints his niece had dropped regarding the possibility of a future crusade had set his thoughts ablaze. Different tactics would be needed to wage war against the Praesi than the ones which were used to match wits with the evils to the north.


    The Praesi had their own special breeds of nastiness.


    Klaus had taken it upon himself to revise the Proceran doctrine on combined arms, attempting to integrate priests and wizards into the painfully outdated Proceran school of warfare. Convincing priests to do anything other than heal others had been like picking at a loose tooth, but he had found them surprisingly creative once they found the motivation to be.


    Barriers, infused projectiles and other forms of indirect wartime contributions were all deemed to be acceptable. Direct attacks were not. The device that had been invented by the Gifted Maker straddled the line between both.


    ¡°Ready, fire!¡±


    The priests finished uttering their prayers. A heartbeat later and a multitude of continuous beams of liquid Light slammed into the polished dish. The beams were redirected, channelled into another, much smaller artefact.


    The world held its breath.


    There was a flash, an ominous thrum.


    A concentrated actinic beam shot forward from the invention and slammed into the city wards.


    The wards shrieked, then the city gate detonated.


    Everything went white.


    For a moment, nobody could see anything. Klaus blinked the spots out of his vision.


    A hundred-foot segment of the Cantal city walls had been demolished. The hole in the fortifications stood out like a gaping wound.


    It seems the Gods decided to spare us some nastiness for once.


    ¡°I asked you to take out the gate, not the whole damn wall.¡±


    ¡°The blast should have been smaller, your grace.¡± The Gifted Maker gulped. ¡°I suspect that the wards were destabilized by the weapon. Their¡­ interference must have intensified the final result.¡±


    ¡°How did you say this works, boy?¡± he turned towards S¨¦bastien.


    ¡°The city wards are intended to redirect any sorcery across the entire structure, but they¡¯re not calibrated to handle quantities of the Light beyond a certain threshold. Priests play such a minor role in siege warfare that it¡¯s not deemed worth the effort to shield against them. I theorized that if we overloaded the ward at a single point and then infused the structure behind it with the Light, it would cause a detonation. I didn¡¯t expect it to be quite so dramatic, your grace.¡±


    ¡°Fine work. Dismissed.¡±


    Klaus Papenheim marched over towards the lines of his infantry. He passed many other pieces of siege equipment in the process of being constructed. Ladders, towers, bridges, and the like.


    At long last, he reached his troops.


    Lines of torches flickered in dawn¡¯s light, doing little to push back the cold. He donned his helmet, drew his sword and seized the standard of Hannoven. Then ¡ª at last ready ¡ª he raised it in the air beside him.


    ¡°All right, boys and girls,¡± he shouted. ¡°It seems fucking all those other princes up the arse didn¡¯t get our message across. These three princes and princesses think they¡¯re clever hiding behind their walls and are going to need a repeat performance before it sinks in. So let''s raise our banners once more and ride to war. I want this mess to be cleaned up before the year ends, you hear me?¡±


    Their call back was deafening. Feeling twenty years younger, Klaus Papenheim brought up his shield and charged.


    <hr>


    Prince Arnaud paced back and forth inside the dining hall in irritation. He passed beneath a tapestry detailing his family line back ten generations, stopped beside the entrance, then returned to the head of the table.


    He had woken to the call of the horn, only to discover the threat had already been contained. Traitors within the ranks of his guard. They had sought to guide the Lycaonese into the city walls by compromising the city gate.


    The scheme had come dangerously close to succeeding. Prince Arnaud had nonetheless ordered more of his mean to the walls. Better to be prepared for conflict, then caught with his pants down.


    Had it been any other season, then Prince Arnaud would have long since ridden out to give battle to his foes. It would not do to risk having his capital put to torch. Despite how brutal the civil war had become with the passage of years, some etiquette remained. The Princes fought on the fields, they did not hide away behind their walls.


    Winter¡¯s bite gave Prince Arnaud the confidence to cool his heels. He was well supplied and hidden behind strong fortifications. Not even his enemies among the Cantal nobility would dare call his decision anything other than pragmatism. Furthermore, he was not alone.


    Princess Aenor and Prince Amadis were both in residence. They had come to an uneasy alliance. Prince Amadis would throw in his lot behind Princess Aenor in exchange for absolute amnesty after the end of the civil war. The other two princes had arrived at Cantal to hammer out the final details of their agreement.


    They were only a day from departure back to their own lands, before the northerners had sealed them in.


    All three of them were united in purpose. They sought to oppose their foes to the north.


    However, Prince Arnaud was not so much a fool as to allow them to garrison their troops within his own walls. Doing so would be akin to suicide through loss of reputation among his own nest of snakes. Instead, their armies had been garrisoned and supplied elsewhere. Some were near to Cantal and had assisted in harrying the forces of Klaus Papenheim, the rest were garrisoned further south in a fortress near a town called Saudant.


    The princes themselves, however, were still forced to take shelter under his roof.


    Truth be told, Prince Arnaud cared not one whit about whether it was a northern or southern head that bore the crown of the First Prince. However, Cantal shared a border with Iserre and both him and Prince Amadis were on amiable terms. After several favourable trade agreements and a few hands traded back and forth, he had been willing to throw in his support behind their faction, rather than sit out the remainder of the war.


    He would benefit from this campaign, regardless of how it came to an end.


    Prince Arnaud was not worried about the outcome of the siege. The string of grisly killings within the city walls was a far more pressing concern. The murderer had yet to be apprehended, and all the deaths were both creative and bloody. The nobility was clamouring for the murderer¡¯s head, ever since one of their own had been reaped. It was likely that the Lycaonese would starve long before the defences fell in comparison.


    His erstwhile allies of circumstances had returned to bed once they had discovered the alert had served no purpose.


    And so Prince Arnaud found himself pacing alone.


    Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.


    The sound of bare flesh on stone.


    Prince Arnaud turned towards the arched doorway.


    A message girl passed through the arched doorway. Short, blonde, young. The shape of her breasts hinted through her tunic. His gaze lingered for a few moments, before rising to meet the brown of her eyes.


    ¡°Word from the walls, your grace.¡±


    The girl did her best to keep her voice level, but Prince Arnaud could hear the slightest tremble. He savoured it for a few moments. Rumours of his predilections had made their way down to the peasantry. The fear they expressed in his presence always sent a shiver of delight down his spine.


    ¡°Come now,¡± he purred, before walking towards the table and pouring himself a glass of wine. He smiled at her, ¡°why don¡¯t you share what you have to say.¡±


    The girl flinched.


    Prince Arnaud¡¯s pulse quickened. The call of the horn had put him in a foul mood. An early morning tryst was exactly what was called for to cool his blood. His guards were outside the room. They knew better than to disturb him once the screaming started, or to avert their eyes as he dragged her off to the bed chamber.


    ¡°The Lycaonese are still readying themselves for battle. Lines are-¡±


    There was a flash of white, then a tremor. The girl stumbled. Prince Arnaud steadied himself by leaning against a chair.


    What manner of weapon was that?


    The tremor came from the north.


    ¡°Send for the captain of my guard,¡± he barked out. ¡°Have Princess Aenor and Prince Amadis woken up once more. Tell them to make their way to the war room. I¡¯ll join them once I have appraised myself of the situation.¡± The girl was frozen like a rabbit under the gaze of a lion. ¡°Listen to your betters. Move, you idiot girl,¡± he snapped out.


    She nodded frightfully, then broke into a sprint.


    Prince Arnaud dismissed the girl from his mind and strolled out of the dining hall. Down several corridors, up a spiral staircase and into a room above. There, an open window with a view. He looked out over his city towards the northern defences.


    A large, gaping chunk was missing from the walls.


    He observed for a few moments as the Lycaonese forces marched to exploit the opening. Projectiles rained down from above, only to bounce harmlessly off golden barriers that had been summoned forth by priests. Wizards and crossbowmen returned fire. Men hunkered down and advanced slowly behind the cover of shields.


    His mind started to race. He had cultivated a reputation among the nobility for being nothing but a blustering buffoon. He preferred to be underestimated than given his proper due. It lowered his enemy¡¯s guard, made it far easier to slide in the knife when the time came to strike. It was a reputation that he was willing to cast aside if it allowed him to maintain his position as Prince of Cantal.


    Prince Arnaud could hole up behind the walls of his fort and likely sustain a protracted siege, but there were enough granaries within the city walls to supply the Lycaonese all winter. Cantal was one of the breadbaskets of the Principate. His people were well-fed, even during times as troubled as these were. It was also unclear how many more times that new weapon of theirs could be wielded. Was it a one-off trick, or was it something that the Lycaonese could repeat?


    Allowing the Lycaonese free rein of the capital would see him removed from his position, even should they eventually be forced to retreat.


    It did not even matter if the weapon could be wielded again.


    That realization was enough to help him make up his mind.


    If he wished to retain the seat of his power, then he needed to make peace with the northerners. Make peace, and convince them to leave.


    He departed from the tower and called out for one of the servants. Asked them to bring up a specific vintage of wine from the cellars. It was a bottle he had set aside for occasions such as this one. Then, he asked another to find him the antidote.


    It was fortunate that he had two other crowns to bargain with.

 Concord 5.12

    ¡°One is not born either Good or Evil, one is simply born. It is insulting to imply otherwise. Our Tyrants and Chancellors strive just as hard to be Evil as the most diligent Good Kings or most virtuous of saints.¡±


    ¡ª Extract from a Praesi repudiation of the Proceran religious text ¡®Truths of the Shore.¡¯


    <hr>


    Thinking I was ready to decide how to organize the House of Light had been ¡ª in retrospect ¡ª a mistake. Fortunately ¡ª for both the church and myself ¡ª the existing administrators were able to keep it afloat while I floundered around and found my feet. One day I hoped to actually develop all those different skills. That day wasn¡¯t today. I tried to make the habit of picking up new skills whenever I could. Just because it was unlikely that I would ever need them didn¡¯t mean that I should dismiss their existence.


    It had been reviewing the historical costs of fielding knights that had convinced me that perhaps I should delegate more. It was over ten times cheaper to train and arm crossbowmen than knights. That wasn¡¯t even counting how long it took to train knights.


    Knights were not what I wanted for my paladins. For one, I didn¡¯t need them to own horses. I also didn¡¯t need them to come from among the nobility or possess many of the skills that a knight would typically have. However, there were other costs that ordinary knights would not have.


    I wanted my paladins to be able to wield the Light. I also wanted them to have equipment that was protected against sorcery. The plate armour worm by Callow¡¯s paladins had been inscribed with scripture and allegedly guarded against magic. Those additional requirements ¡ª among a few others ¡ª made up for the savings in traditional knight training.


    There was just too much that I did not know to manage this all on my own.


    I¡¯d ended up appointing my advisors first, then allowing them much more control over my plans for the restructuring of the House of Light. The number of representatives per principality was cut down by them to one. The representatives were elected by the priests in the capital of each principality once every decade. A warning was given out the year before, so that any priests in the surrounding towns and villages could make the journey if they wished to cast their own vote.


    Those representatives then had a fair amount of leeway in how they managed everyone below them. They drafted proposals for the taxes in their regions, which were subject to the approval of both me and my advisors. Both what was taxed and the percentage of the tax. That wealth was then centralized at the capital of each Principality, and funds were apportioned from there into four main categories. The first was maintenance, which was an umbrella term for many things and included the coin for disaster relief. It was the most important category, and all other categories were determined based on the remainder. The second was projects undertaken within each principality on the recommendation of the people living there. The third was for trade investments, and the last portion was for greater church projects.


    Those representatives then had assistants who were expected to draft and publish an annual church account that was available to the public to review. Esme had people under her authority who were responsible for auditing it. Once a decade ¡ª when the representatives changed ¡ª there was a review of which church holdings were eligible for taxation made by the new representatives. Any church holdings that felt were being unjustly treated by their leaders could also raise a complaint to the inquisition.


    I had also decided that I wasn¡¯t going to control the representatives by playing them against each other. I didn¡¯t believe it would be right to do so. It would be establishing the exact kind of system that I was trying to remove.


    Instead, a complicated system of rewards and incentives had been developed by my advisors to encourage the representatives to do the right thing. Funding for pet projects provided they meet the right criteria, personal allowances, ancillary privileges and the like. All the bonuses were dependent on how well they adhered to the goals I was laying out, and they varied from principality to principality based on the politics of those principalities. Representatives could then vote on greater church policy once a year, or bring any petitions before me.


    That served as the carrot. The threat of me descending on them if they strayed from the path of good served as one stick, but I was hoping to find myself another.


    I hadn¡¯t realized just how much of a relief it would be to delegate responsibility of the minutiae to someone else until I¡¯d gone ahead and done so. There was still a small niggling at the back of my head. A part of me insisting that I should be responsible for everything. But¡­ I was doing my best to ignore it.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to subject yourself to this, Chosen,¡± one of the sisters said differentially from beside me.


    ¡°It¡¯s about respect,¡± I replied.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take my leave then,¡± she bowed.


    I watched her depart the indoor garden along a path of soft sand, threading her way between rose bushes, past lavender and then through the arched concrete passageway. Turning, I stared at the pool of water behind me with the same enthusiasm as a cat preparing to bathe.


    Nothing to it, Taylor.


    I pulled off my robe, then stripped myself of my small clothes and bundled everything beside the edge of the water into a tidy pile. At last, I dipped my toe into the water.


    It was about as bracing as I expected it to be.


    The temptation to heat the water up rose once more. I squashed it. Cheating would defeat the purpose of this. I took a deep breath, then plunged into the frigid pool.


    C.c.cold.


    I turned towards the hourglass at the side of the pool and flipped it with a bit more vigour than necessary. I glared at the sands for a few moments, before reaching towards the soaps and oils.


    It was miserable.


    Not even the light of the sun helped stave off the chill.


    Step by step, I cleaned myself.


    None of this was strictly necessary. I could have decided to do otherwise. But¡­ Cordelia was going through the same process. It was required of the would be First Prince when they met with the head of the House of Light in the days leading up to their coronation. I¡¯d informed her that I wasn¡¯t expecting her to follow through with this process.


    She¡¯d told me that she would follow the letter of the law.


    Even if the law ¡ª in this case ¡ª was a stupid tradition that should be overturned.


    I¡¯d already drafted a proposal for the Highest Assembly to do so. It wasn¡¯t high on my list of priorities, but if something was both easy to do and beneficial, then¡­ it should be done.


    I left the pool an hour later wet and miserable. After towelling down and changing into an austere white shift, I walked briskly towards the chamber where we would be meeting and took my place at the head of the table. I was alone in the room. The crackle of the hearth behind me did much to offset the cold.


    Cordelia Hasenbach was led into the chamber a few moments later.


    Duty. Forge the Principate into a tool that can withstand the Evils to the north. A weapon that can endure the test of time and will not fracture with Cordelia¡¯s passing from power.


    Her hair was unbraided and goosebumps stuck out along her arms. She wore a matching outfit and marched in with as much dignity as she could.


    Her eyes narrowed.


    Esme had spent some time lecturing me on the importance of etiquette. I wasn¡¯t certain that I bought into her diatribe, but I was willing to bet that Cordelia Hasenbach did. I¡¯d follow Esme¡¯s advice as a consequence of that.


    Our meeting began with an exchange of meaningless pleasantries, followed by a meal. It was a silent affair, and my thoughts wandered while we ate.


    This would have been a much more grandiose event had the Holies still been in residence, but I didn''t feel the need to grandstand. The two of us both had our duties and priorities that needed attending to. I¡¯d do my best to put on the front that she would expect of someone in my position, but no more than that.


    Cordelia had at last brought an end to the civil war. Princess Aenor and Prince Amadis had been betrayed and turned over to Klaus Papenheim by Prince Arnaud at Cantal. With them eliminated from the running, she had become the sole remaining contender for the crown of the First Prince.


    She had been busy ever since then. This was the first time that the two of us were able to meet again. I did not begrudge her that. It was probable that she had been even more preoccupied than I was. I¡¯d inquired if she would be able to allot more time to this meeting than what was legally required so that we could cover other significant topics of conversation. It had been an idle request made with the expectation that she would refuse, and I¡¯d need to schedule a separate meeting later.


    It had come as a pleasant surprise when she had acceded to my petition.


    The meal ended and the formalities began. They did not take long to finalize. I followed through scripted lines prepared for me by people long dead, and Cordelia did much the same. Once the empty traditions had completed, and she had secured the approval of the priests, our attention at last turned to other matters.


    ¡°Have you resolved the conflict within the Chain of Hunger?¡± Cordelia inquired.


    We had left the dining room and walked towards my office.


    ¡°I have. It¡¯s complicated and there¡¯s a lot I need to catch you up on.¡±


    One of the sisters opened the door for the both of us. We entered, and I pointed towards the organized piles of documentation on the shelves beside my desk.


    ¡°Chain of Hunger,¡± my hand drifted left, ¡°Fae troubles in Bayeux,¡± it drifted to the penultimate pile, ¡°proposals for you,¡± and settled on the final stack, ¡°proposals for the Highest Assembly.¡±


    Despite the fact that she would likely oppose me on many proposals in the Highest Assembly, I didn¡¯t truly see her as an enemy. We were both trying to do good, we just had a different perspective on what that was. I wanted to try to maintain a cordial relationship as a result. I¡¯d do her the courtesy of informing her of my proposals in advance. Springing surprises like that on people wasn¡¯t something that I thought made for a long term, amicable relationship.


    ¡°It would have been more expedient for you to have this delivered to my advisors.¡±


    ¡°I had other troubles first. Considered it later. My own advisors suggested I wait.¡±


    Cordelia said nothing in response to that. She picked up my transcription of the Tumult¡¯s proposal and skimmed through it in moments.


    ¡°You do not believe that the Principate should agree to this treaty.¡±


    ¡°Five years of uneasy truce is more than either of us was expecting,¡± I agreed. ¡°Giving the Ratlings access to sorcery before they can choose not to fight sounds like a recipe for disaster. We know the source of their curse, we can work on solving it. If you do want to negotiate with the Tumult any further, then I can carry any correspondence.¡±


    ¡°It is unfortunate that the Gigantes will slay any Procerans who set foot across their borders. They are best suited to assist with unravelling this conundrum.¡±


    ¡°I could make overtures.¡±


    ¡°It is doubtful that they would hear you out.¡±


    That didn¡¯t surprise me. Proceran heroes did not have the best of reputations and had attacked the Gigantes in the past. I might qualify as not Proceran by technicality, but I doubted that the Gigantes would be willing to make that distinction.


    Cordelia turned her attention towards the missive on the Fae. She said nothing in response to it, then turned her attention towards the third pile.


    ¡°The suggestion that the yet to be instituted Proceran order of wizards should be founded beside Constance¡¯s Scar has merit.¡±


    ¡°Something will need to be done about the Scar anyway.¡±


    ¡°Why do you recommend that Yvette should occupy an important role in this new institution?¡±


    Yvette needed an outlet to help her learn more about sorcery. She¡¯d reached the end of what I could teach, and this was an opportunity to discover more on her own. I hoped that with sufficient adult supervision, she wouldn¡¯t cause any major trouble. While I didn¡¯t like the idea of being so far away from Yvette, I expected that Proceran sorcerers would solve the problem of scrying sometime soon. It wasn¡¯t a perfect solution, but I didn¡¯t want to stifle her own dreams out of a desire to keep her close.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°She has a Name centred around sorcery and an academic interest in things like the Scar. She can help teach your wizards. That way the order has a better foundation. She gets an opportunity to investigate the Scar as an incentive to help.¡±


    Cordelia put that suggestion aside and seized the next one.


    This was where matters became more complicated.


    ¡°Why should the Highest Assembly formally recognize you as the leader of the Proceran House of Light?¡±


    Don¡¯t lie, beat around the bush or scheme. She can outwit you at all of that anyhow. Just be honest, forthright. You¡¯re a hero, not a politician.


    I breathed in.


    ¡°It gives you leverage over the House of Light. There are provisions in that proposal allowing the nobility to seize the lands of any branches of the House of Light that splinter away from the main organization.¡±


    It was a risk. The problem was that I could not be in every principality at once if I wanted to enforce my rules. Esme¡¯s inquisition would only be able to do so much. But¡­ while I didn¡¯t have an army, the princes did. They would also pounce at any opportunity to take away lands from the church. Cordelia was no exception to that. I knew that she¡¯d remove all power from the church if she could do so without an uprising. I hoped that I could get the princes to acknowledge me as the legal authority over the House of Light in exchange for strengthening their position against the priests.


    It was the kind of stick I needed to motivate the more ambitious priests to do the right thing if I wasn¡¯t going to have them scheme against each other.


    ¡°This would also consolidate your position of power by granting you legitimacy.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true, but I have that already in every sense except the legal sense. There¡¯s been twenty years of civil war. Nobody likes the princes. It doesn¡¯t matter that you won the war as cleanly as could be done. I toppled the Holies from power in a little over a month while smothering another conflict in the crib, and brought attention to many other issues in the process. If it comes to a popularity contest, then I¡¯m always going to win. If I declare war against the princes, their own soldiers might turn on them in my favour.¡±


    ¡°That is not an argument in support of this proposal. Recognizing you as the leader of the House of Light would position you as a credible opposition to the throne.¡±


    ¡°There are also benefits. I want to work with you, not around or against you.¡±


    ¡°Why do you believe that granting you legitimacy makes for a more stable Principate than one where the House of Light remains divided.¡±


    ¡°If you recognize my authority, then I can actually help you with your own projects. You wouldn¡¯t need to worry about the House of Light betraying you. It¡¯s a way to wield the full power of the Proceran House of Light without fighting us tooth and nail for it.¡±


    ¡°That is only true so long as your interests remain aligned with those of the crown. Even should you remain a paragon of virtue for the remainder of your life, it remains to be seen whether the same is true of your eventual successor. Should this proposal pass in the Highest Assembly, then another Liturgical War is one day all but assured.¡±


    ¡°Make the recognition provisional on me remaining the leader and up for consideration when I either abdicate or perish.¡±


    Cordelia set the motion aside and said no more about it, then picked up another page. Her eyes narrowed in thought.


    ¡°You did not write these amendments to the proposed education reforms yourself.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted. ¡°I passed them on to my advisors and then threw in my own ideas. They made them feasible.¡±


    ¡°It would reduce the burden the original proposal would place on the nobility by apportioning a part of it to the House of Light.¡±


    I¡¯d come to realize that many of Cordelia¡¯s teachers and advisors were priests, and that the same was true for every prince. The House of Light probably had the highest concentration of educated people out of any institution in the principate. While that education did not cover every subject and the nobles undoubtedly had a much higher level of education overall, it did cover reading, writing, and arithmetic.


    ¡°It only helps with less specialized skills. Your original proposal involving trade schools makes more sense for anything beyond the first few years of schooling but¡­¡±


    ¡°You have stipulated that you do not wish for spiritual education to take place during the allotted teaching time, despite the role of teacher being given to priests.¡±


    ¡°My advisors weren¡¯t happy about that. I want people to do good and to worship the Gods. I think that I¡¯d be more likely to chase people away by putting the Gods into every element of their life, then convince them to join the church.¡±


    Besides, there were other ways to teach the virtues I wanted kids to learn without the message being so blatant. Teaching children to read with stories that had specific themes and lessons within them was a much better way to instil values without just beating their head with a holy book. It appealed to a wider audience. Convincing people who worshipped the Gods Below to live by good values was far more important ¡ª and likely far easier ¡ª than convincing them to worship Above.


    And once they adopted those values¡­


    They were far more likely to join groups that held similar virtues close to their heart.


    ¡°This proposal would likely pass in the Highest Assembly even without my weight behind it.¡±


    ¡°I worked with you before taking over the House of Light. I don¡¯t want to throw away that relationship. There are some differences now. I can no longer reshape Creation on a whim. It changes the nature of any alliance we might have. That doesn¡¯t mean there aren¡¯t new benefits to working with me.¡±


    I hope that being honest and forthright works here, because trying to outwit Cordelia certainly won¡¯t.


    ¡°You should send this document to my advisors. They will return an amended copy of it once they have examined it further.¡±


    Cordelia put it aside and picked up the next proposal. She remained silent for a good ten minutes before finally choosing to reply.


    ¡°The House of Light does not require the approval of the Highest Assembly to offer many of these services.¡±


    The proposal detailed many ancillary goods and services that I believed the House of Light could offer, that no other institution could. They all involved the use of the Light in some way. From entertainment ¡ª firework displays using the Light ¡ª to esoteric construction work, to tools. Some of my ideas might not be feasible. I suspected that a large proportion of them would not generate much income either, but that wasn¡¯t the point of it.


    The point was to illustrate just how much she stood to potentially gain by agreeing to work with me.


    Some ideas were only theoretical. I¡¯d need to do my fair share of innovation to prove the Light could be used that way, then teach the method to others. I¡¯d marked those ideas as unproven on the proposal, as well as provided my reasoning for why I believed they were achievable.


    It had taken some asking around to learn the historical reason for why most priests did not experiment with the Light. It surprised me that I hadn¡¯t worked it out on my own. Excessive use of the Light burned every priest except for me from the inside out. Draw too much and it became fatal. Pair easy guidance for already known miracles with a sensible aversion towards self harm, and over time a culture of conservatism towards experimentation had developed.


    I hoped to chip away at that attitude.


    ¡°We can¡¯t manufacture arms or armour without something changing.¡±


    ¡°The Principate moved away from fielding heavily armoured knights towards mercenaries due to the comparison in cost-effectiveness.¡±


    ¡°I know. I obtained records that prove as much. Five to ten crossbowmen per knight, ten to twenty infantrymen per knight. It doesn¡¯t mean that there aren¡¯t cases where having access to specialized equipment isn¡¯t beneficial. You could have crossbowmen outfitted in protected plate specifically to counter Praesi wizards. Specialized units dedicated to killing enemy sorcerers in the event of an invasion. Priests are effective at countering wizards, but only a few of them will ever volunteer for war.¡±


    ¡°You have included many stipulations whereby the House of Light may refuse service.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not planning on funding an anti-wizard crusade inside the Principate itself, nor am I planning to incite offensive wars against other nations for the purpose of obtaining territory.¡±


    ¡°Equipment imbued by the Light does not retain its investment for extended periods of time, unlike enchanted equipment manufactured by sorcery.¡±


    ¡°It can be renewed. There isn¡¯t a reason to maintain the effect outside wars with Praes. It¡¯s better to have the equipment for when it is needed, than not have it at all.¡±


    This proposal more than any other was one that I hoped was approved. Armour that protected from sorcery was not cheap to manufacture. It was also something that the House of Light would by default have a monopoly on. The fact that the defensive effect would need to be refreshed would make it a renewable source of income during times of war. While nothing would make me happier than a world at peace, I didn¡¯t doubt there would be many more conflicts in the future.


    ¡°Have this drafted into a missive and sent to my uncle so that he may review your ideas. However, it is unlikely that it will garner much in the way of interest unless you develop a more affordable measure of anti-magic defence.¡± She paused, frowned in thought. ¡°He has several requests of his own for the House of Light. You should expect him to approach you sometime in the near future.¡±


    Cordelia continued to pick up, read through and comment on many proposals. Some she set aside for review by one person or another. Others, she outright dismissed. It must have been over an hour later before she finally reached the final two.


    ¡°My eyes and ears in other principalities can confirm your warning of the increase in number of both the chosen and the damned. More than one Principality has become rife with discord over the past few weeks.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the reason for this proposal.¡±


    ¡°You appear to be far more appraised of this situation than anyone else, despite having spent a significant amount of time within the Chain of Hunger.¡±


    ¡°The new names come from the stories of my world. The Gods asked me to share them. This was the result.¡±


    ¡°So you are to blame for the chaos that has spread across Procer?¡± her voice intensified.


    ¡°Would you refuse a request of the Gods?¡± I retorted, looking away from the blonde at the unlit candle on the desk beside her.


    ¡°If a soldier acts on the orders of their superior, it does not absolve them of responsibility.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not denying responsibility. But¡­ I believe there must have been a reason. Some good that came of this. They wouldn¡¯t have asked otherwise. In fact, I can confirm as much. There¡¯s a hero. A bard. She¡¯s immortal, and I don¡¯t even have the faintest idea how old she is. She planned to blow up the continent, and my decision ruined her plans. Considering how detailed her scheme was¡­ I¡¯d have given her a good chance of succeeding.¡±


    ¡°There is no way for anyone to verify the veracity of the claim, while the chaos that plagues the Principate is evident to all.¡±


    It also wasn¡¯t possible to verify that I was to blame, but that was not the point. I wasn¡¯t going to avoid responsibility.


    ¡°I know,¡± my voice was subdued. ¡°It¡¯s everywhere, not just here. Praes, the Principate, in the lands over the sea.¡±


    I turned my attention back to Cordelia. Her face was a mask. Inscrutable. At last, she spoke once more.


    ¡°You should understand that the reason for the ban against the House of Light maintaining a standing army is to prevent further conflict.¡±


    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be a problem with me in charge.¡±


    ¡°There is also no reason why your proposed policing force would need to fall under the control of the House of Light.¡±


    ¡°Heroes wouldn¡¯t listen to the princes.¡±


    ¡°Your argument is founded on the preconception that many of both the chosen and the damned will pose a lesser threat, and are thus containable by those without a choosing of their own. Should that be true, then there is no reason for that force to fall under the authority of the church. The principle would remain the same. Only those who pose a sufficient threat would require the intervention of heroes.¡±


    ¡°There is a benefit. The faithful have access to the Light. It gives them a weapon that helps bridge the gap. The force would be trained to fight named combatants, not to wage conventional wars. They would need to learn stories and tactics to combat esoteric abilities.¡±


    ¡°You have yet to make a convincing argument that the church is instrumental in solving the problem. There are soon to be many dispossessed fantassins wandering the Principate now that the war has ended. They have already made violence their trade, and thus they could be put to the same purpose now.¡±


    ¡°Could you even do that? They don¡¯t fall under the authority of the First Prince except during times of a crusade.¡±


    ¡°While both motions would face opposition within the Highest Assembly, only one of them would infringe on the sovereignty of the princes of Procer.¡±


    Cordelia turned her attention towards the final proposal. It was the one that I expected would receive the most criticism.


    ¡°There is not a single prince in the Principate that will vote for this motion in the Highest Assembly.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s important. There¡¯s going to be lots more heroes and villains now. If you want me to hold heroes accountable, then they need legal permission to hold princes accountable.¡±


    ¡°This is the Principate of Procer. We mete out the same justice to the highest soul and the lowest. Agreeing to this proposal would be tantamount to a declaration that the Chosen and the Damned stand above the law. It would undermine the principles that this nation has been founded on.¡±


    ¡°Heroes do stand above the law. If I walked into the Highest Assembly and killed everyone there, nobody except the Gods would be able to stop me. Pretending otherwise is a lie. I¡¯m offering you a way to make it less of a lie.¡±


    ¡°It does not matter whether one is born a peasant or a prince. From highest to lowest, we are all taught one truth. Our nation is one where the laws are fair and all are treated equal when they stand before the magistrate. We often fail at achieving this, but the belief is still there. Not one person from the gutters in Iserre to the throne in Salia will entertain this proposal, for it is anathema to the truths that we hold most dear.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the first person I¡¯m approaching. I¡¯m going to be trying to convince the others of the necessity of the agreement as well.¡±


    ¡°This measure would be more likely to pass were you not the leader of the House of Light, not that it has any hope of succeeding, irrespective of your standing. It is a short step from being the leader of the House of Light to leader of the Principate once you have the right to depose the First Prince.¡±


    ¡°Then that¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°You do not intend to press the matter when you fail to achieve your goal?¡±


    ¡°The Principate is founded on a lie. One day a hero will find the princes objectionable and make my point for me. All I¡¯ll do is withhold judgement against them until you amend the laws.¡±


    ¡°You would consign the Principate to the fire only to see your point made?¡±


    ¡°One day Procer will die. Not because I have anything against it, but because one day something better will replace it. That¡¯s just the way things are.¡±


    ¡°Not so long as I remain standing.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t a threat. I¡¯m not planning to move against Procer. It¡¯s just that¡­ time changes everything. Only one of us plans to live forever, Cordelia.¡±


    And it isn¡¯t you.


    A few more courtesies were exchanged before our meeting came to an end.


    Cordelia departed the Starlit Cloister not long afterwards.

 Concord 5.13

    ¡°It is deeply ironic for a nation that is said to have been founded on the principle of consensus that it repeatedly proves chronically incapable of agreeing on anything.¡±


    ¨C Extract from ¡®The Ruin of Empire, or, a Call to Reform of the Highest Assembly¡¯, by Princess Eliza of Salamans


    <hr>


    ¡°Y¡¯should stop worrying, Taylor,¡± the redhead fussed from beside me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    I looked down from the twinkling lights shining down from above, towards the table before us. Plain tablecloth, weights, simple wooden chairs all arranged on manicured grass. Esme, Roland, Yvette, Blaise, and Michel were spread out around the feast.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got that look of yours.¡±


    ¡°Look of mine?¡±


    ¡°One that says something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    Clank. Clank. Clank.


    Conversation paused as parts of Cordelia¡¯s parade marched along the thoroughfare beyond the walls of the modest estate. I could only just make out the tips of their helmets from the top step of the veranda.


    ¡°Nothing¡¯s wrong. Just thinking.¡±


    ¡°¡®Bout what?¡±


    ¡°All of this,¡± I gestured towards the others, ¡°is the calm before the storm.¡±


    ¡°S¡¯not like it isn¡¯t nice.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    I joined the others at the table. After a brief prayer, the meal was served and all of us started to dig in.


    ¡°This place. You outdid yourself, Song.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, it surprised me how many church properties have unused estates on them. Figured this would do for you.¡± She gestured with a chicken wing towards the building behind me.


    ¡°Eat with proper decorum, you layabout,¡± Esme sniffed.


    ¡°I¡¯m told you¡¯ve prepared to present your case before the Highest Assembly?¡± Roland inquired from next to Esme.


    ¡°I have.¡±


    ¡°Have you considered what you might do should they fail to pass?¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll do the best I can within the limits of the law.¡±


    ¡°How much do you believe yourself to be capable of without official support from the First Prince?¡±


    ¡°A lot.¡±


    I paused and pointed towards a teapot beside Roland. He proffered it to me. I accepted it with a small thanks, then poured myself a cup.


    ¡°Cordelia can¡¯t stop Taylor from putting out a call for heroes or from trying to help them. She¡¯d prob¡¯ly be laughed out of the Highest Assembly if she tried. Even if something like that passed, she has no way to enforce it. S¡¯pose it would mean Taylor might need to give up on her idea of paladins for now, though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do the best I can to help people without them if that¡¯s the case, but I expect that failing to pass that petition will come back to haunt Cordelia later.¡±


    ¡°There are many fantassins who now find themselves without a ship to sail. First Prince Cordelia Hasenbach has proven herself to be a capable leader and will contain the problem using them.¡±


    ¡°H-have you c-consi-sidered how you want to t-train these paladins, chosen?¡± Blaise inquired from beside me.


    ¡°The proposal is in my office and has been heavily reviewed by my advisors. They have annotated it with several recommendations on how to improve the idea¡¯s feasibility. Frankly, I¡¯m more concerned about getting it past first.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to join me at Constance¡¯s Scar, Roland? I think there¡¯s a lot for both of us to learn there. Ma told me that she¡¯s found a place for me there. Isn¡¯t it exciting? A chance to study the Fae.¡±


    ¡°I intend to-¡± I tuned Roland and Yvette¡¯s discussion out and turned my attention back towards Songbird.


    ¡°I¡¯ve done what I can. Brother Simon assures me he did his best.¡±


    ¡°Appointing him liaison between yourself and Cordelia was smart. M¡¯sure the people he sent to bring your proposals to the other princes did their best.¡±


    ¡°I assure you that sometime within the next decade that man will set fire to our port and I will be tasked with putting out the flames,¡± Esme muttered darkly.


    Conversation halted as the sky lit up. Bright lights and illusory banners crafted from the Light fluttered above. They were crude and lacked the finesse that I would have used to achieve the same effect, but they still elicited a smile.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, your idea could use some work but¡­ I think it¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s a simple use of the Light. Almost every priest knows how to make basic illusions. Figured it would help with the mood during the celebrations. They just¡­ don¡¯t for some reason.¡± I smiled at her.


    ¡°Still think you should¡¯ve stayed for longer at the big celebration.¡±


    ¡°People were paying more attention to me than to Cordelia,¡± I shook my head. ¡°Better for me to disappear early. It¡¯s not good for me to undercut her authority.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve said as much twice before, but I still think it¡¯ll help strengthen your argument later.¡±


    ¡°Also figured this out,¡± I changed the topic.


    I took a moment and channelled the Light through me, then sent a silent blessing towards Songbird. The effect was complex, drawing upon what I¡¯d learned so far from the Angel¡¯s miracle in the cathedral, combined with a delayed timer based off of healing. It asked, ¡°what if this person¡¯s dreams were pleasant?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see later tonight.¡±


    ¡°D¡¯you mean you figured out how to give me amorous dreams?¡± Songbird grinned.


    ¡°I figured out how to bless people¡¯s dreams,¡± I corrected. ¡°Without the miracle in the church to innovate on, I would still be busy with figuring it out. Hopefully I can teach it to other priests, but¡­ it¡¯s complicated, and I doubt I¡¯ll manage to.¡±


    ¡°It would be wiser if you held secrets like that close to your chest,¡± Esme criticized.


    ¡°Every trick I¡¯m able to share makes the world just a slightly better place. Once I figure out how to turn it into a persistent aura, then nobody within range of me will have nightmares any more.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯know, I think you shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve put the crown on Cordelia¡¯s head.¡±


    ¡°Delegating that task to another would¡¯ve ensured a Liturgical war sometime within the next decade,¡± Esme argued.


    ¡°Nah,¡± Songbird sniffed. ¡°The First Prince and Taylor are both hard-headed but reasonable people. They¡¯d talk it out. Problem is the story it tells. If Taylor¡¯d let someone else put the crown on her head, then it tells a story where Cordelia is beneath her. Also would¡¯ve sent the message she doesn¡¯t have your direct approval.¡±


    ¡°Which would make for a terrible diplomatic precedent,¡± Esme retorted.


    I was certain that Songbird was just riling Esme up at this point. She hadn¡¯t mentioned doing something like that before the coronation, so it struck me as nothing more than an attempt to cause trouble bringing it up now.


    I listened to the ongoing festivities with one ear as the cold failed to penetrate the warmth of our small group. It was a small party ¡ª far more subdued than the grand feasts that were held elsewhere ¡ª secluded from the celebrations at large. It still brought a smile to my face.


    A brief moment of respite before the oncoming storm.


    <hr>


    The door creaked shut behind me as I entered an understated chamber that smelled faintly of wood smoke. With walls of whitewashed limestone, charred ancient oak rafters and twenty-four thrones spaced out evenly around the room, the Chamber of Assembly surprised me in how humble it was.


    Cordelia sat wearing a conservative blue dress on a block of grey granite that projected an inch higher than all the other seats. A circlet of white and gold adorned her brow, and her golden locks cascaded over her shoulders.


    Behind her ¡ª to one side ¡ª was another seat covered in a silk banner displaying a crowned bronze mountain peak on deep blue. Other seats sat empty. The throne of Aequitan and Iserre, for one. Lange and Brus had youths ensconced within them.


    Don¡¯t do anything, Taylor. They¡¯re dreams, not reality.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Chosen, Taylor Hebert,¡± a white-haired man announced in a thick, Lycaonese accent.


    The Master of Orders.


    I¡¯d been made to wait outside the Chamber of Assembly while other proposals were considered first. According to Songbird, the Highest Assembly had been considering a proposal put forward by Cordelia requiring for all loans taken by princes in excess of a certain sum to be publicly declared. Both the quantity of money taken on loan and who the loan was taken from. It was an attempt to try to prevent a repeat of the civil war. It remained to be seen how effective it would be.


    ¡°By ancient oath, let every word I speak ring true,¡± I declared.


    There is so much ceremony to remember. I hope this speech pays off. I put in the time to include additional theatre just to appeal to their sensibilities.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    At least Cordelia hadn¡¯t tried to prevent me from addressing them at all. While Chosen advisors of Princes could address the Highest Assembly, regular heroes could not. The House of Light was also permitted to petition the Highest Assembly, however, there was nothing requiring them to allow me to step inside these halls. It was possible that she could have tried to deny me the right to speak on a legal technicality. I wasn¡¯t sure if such a trick would work, but it was the kind of tactic I expected from her if she was planning to fight dirty.


    ¡°You were heard by these hallowed grounds,¡± the Master of Orders replied. ¡°Let no lie mar your tongue, no heresy your soul, and may the Heavens grant you righteous purpose in this exchange of words.¡±


    Every other figure ¡ª be they princes or their sworn delegates ¡ª droned out the sentences with a familiarity which reminded me of children inside a classroom.


    Stand tall. No flinching or hesitation.


    ¡°Princes and Princesses of the realm of Procer,¡± I began. ¡°I stand before you today to speak of the future. For is it not the future which now concerns us, after twenty years of bloodshed? So it is with a heavy heart that I warn you of what is yet to come,¡± I paused for effect, allowing my gaze to move from one prince to another. ¡°Chaos. That is what the future has in store for us all.¡±


    Who will oppose me?


    The Lycaonese would all vote with Cordelia. Brus would definitely vote against me. The handsome lad seated on the throne scowled up a thunderstorm in my direction. The other leaders I wasn¡¯t so sure of. Not because I didn¡¯t have some idea, but because Esme had warned me that the First Prince could potentially force the vote her way regardless.


    Brother Simon had been more optimistic.


    He¡¯d taken the time to correspond with the others. Everyone here already knew what I was proposing. This was just a formal resolution of something that had been debated in the shadows. The southern principalities ¡ª I¡¯d been informed ¡ª were all likely to throw their weight behind my first two proposals. It was the last two which were the problem.


    ¡°Do not mistake this for the dire prophesizing of a woman otherwise bereft of wits. Already the first seeds of discord will have blossomed within each of your borders. New heroes and villains both. With seemingly no rhyme and reason, they have materialized from the wind and sown further chaos to lands that teeter on the brink of ruin. A time of trouble lies ahead of us. Does anyone dare to claim otherwise?¡±


    There was a murmur of agreement in response to that. A particularly odious man seated on the chair for Cantal drowned everyone out while proclaiming his approval. I didn¡¯t know who he was. Something about him ¡ª beyond just his sleazy dreams ¡ª made my skin crawl.


    ¡°And so I come before you to offer you hope of salvation. Four requests ¡ª four formal petitions to be presented to the Highest Assembly ¡ª in an attempt to stave off the oncoming storm. But before I regale you further, I would make a request that both the votes at the end of each petition and the preceding addresses for all petitions be entered into the formal public record.¡±


    My voice echoed throughout an otherwise silent chamber. I doubted that anyone had expected this request. The hope was that if my proposals failed then the people of Procer would be aware of who voted against the proposals and what the proposals were. Then when trouble did eventually come¡­


    Well, it would be much harder to deny me a second time.


    ¡°As per law, such a request can only be granted by the First Prince of Procer,¡± the Master of Orders said. ¡°I now put the question to Her Most Serene Highness, First Prince of Procer, Princess of Salia.¡±


    Cordelia inclined her head.


    ¡°I grant the request.¡±


    Good.


    Brother Simon had both suggested the idea and reassured me that she would not refuse the request. Denying something like this so early into her reign would be an indication that she was not as secure in her power as she presented herself.


    ¡°And so we come at last to the heart of the matter. How should we combat the chaos to come? My answer is deceptive in its simplicity. Once, long ago, she who called herself Triumphant walked these lands, and it was only through uniting that she was laid low. The answer to today¡¯s problems remains the same as it was back in the days long past. We should unite. Work together to push back the darkness.¡±


    I paused and looked them all over.


    ¡°The first petition is for the Highest Assembly to formally recognize me as the legitimate leader of the Proceran House of Light. Let all members of the clergy who contest this proposal forfeit the right to their lands to the principality they fall within. For to stand divided in the times to come is to fall alone. We cannot afford for petty conflicts or confusion in the many years to come.¡±


    The eyes of many of the princes seemed to light up with greed at the latter part of this proposal. It didn¡¯t surprise me. The opportunity to seize lands from the House of Light was one that all the princes would pounce on.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Princess of Aisne,¡± the Master of Orders announced.


    Princess Clotilde inclined her head before speaking. ¡°I second the motion.¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Princess of Brus,¡± the Master of Orders announced.


    ¡°What makes one such as you, who made sport of honour in the swamps of Brus fitting to serve as the leader of the House of Light?¡±


    Honourable battle, the kind from a children¡¯s story.


    How best to approach this? Talk about myself or challenge his argument. I think the latter is safer.


    ¡°I could extol my own virtues. Tell you that the House of Light is a religious institution first. That every member claims to put the will of the Gods before everything else. I could ask you who better to lead the House of Light than a hero. Those arguments and many more would have all made for fine rebuttals.¡±


    I paused.


    ¡°Instead, I will answer your question with one of my own. When I confronted the Prince of Brus in the depths of the swamp, I warned him of what would come to pass should he fail to heed my words. I begged him to turn aside, to seek another solution to end the conflict. The man was deaf to my pleas. Where is the honour in sacrificing the life of thousands for the sake of his own vanity?¡±


    There was a murmur of approval from Princess Mathilda.


    ¡°There is both honour and glory to be won fighting a battle in service to one¡¯s lord,¡± Prince Frederick retorted.


    ¡°Then is there honour in shielding a son who is a rapist from reprisal when the child attempted to lay his hands upon me? Is there honour in insisting on spending the lives of his men when the outcome is already known? The Prince of Brus could have insisted on a duel to settle the matter if he wished to die at the end of a blade. He could have negotiated a treaty with Cordelia Hasenbach. Instead, he chose to sacrifice his own people. There is no honour in how he acted. No virtue in the choices that he made. Only ambition to a fault.¡±


    Prince Frederick Goethal looked apoplectic. I suspected that he was about to raise another argument. I forestalled his chance to speak.


    ¡°You wished to know what makes me the right candidate to lead the Proceran House of Light? There are many reasons. I have no interest in accruing power save for the sake of helping others. I do not wish to rule, nor do I have any taste for war. There is no chance of me threatening another Liturgical war because one would be anathema to my own interests. You need not fear that I will politic in the shadows or drive a knife into your backs. Furthermore, there is an additional consideration. There are many stories which I am unable to take an active Role in, some which involve positions of leadership in organizations such as this one. You prevent the development of those Names by formalizing my position.¡±


    Another representative was announced, and more criticisms were raised. My legs became tired as the dissection of my arguments continued, but eventually it drew to an end.


    ¡°The Prince of Rhenia moves for vote over the motion,¡± Cordelia stated.


    One by one, the various princes and princesses ¡ª or their delegates ¡ª voted on the motion.


    I swallowed back my nervousness. These were without a doubt the most important people in the Principate. I didn¡¯t like them. I suspected that if I caught them at the wrong moment, I¡¯d execute them without a second thought. Unfortunately, I couldn¡¯t do their jobs for them should that come to pass.


    The motion succeeded, but it was only the first. It wasn¡¯t surprising that it succeeded. It was both the least contentious and the one they stood the most to gain from. While it would have been nice to believe that I succeeded on the merits of my argument, I suspected that human greed was the primary motivation.


    ¡°There came a time in days long past when men and women sworn to the Gods took up weapons and fought for the right to rule. Many laws were passed in those troubled times. Restrictions governing the production of arms and armour. We cannot know for certain what troubles the future may hold, but we can draw some inferences. The Evil to the north lies dormant, not dead, and one day it will wake up. The civil war within the principate was fuelled by the Tyrant in the Tower, and soon a reprisal is due. ¡±


    The smarmy man in the seat for Cantal let out a loud bellow of approval, then began to clap. Nobody else joined in. I averted my eyes from him and returned my attention to Cordelia.


    ¡°Would you rather be woken in the dead of the night with a blade on your throat and death breathing down your spine, or face those evils forewarned and forearmed? With weapons imbued with the Light of the Gods and armour that shields against sorcery. The second proposal the House of Light petitions to the Highest Assembly for is rescinding existing bans placed on the right to manufacture arms and armour. Let us play our part in the battle against Evil when they march towards the Principate once more.¡±


    The process of criticism began once again.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia,¡± the Master of Orders announced.


    ¡°The restriction on the manufacture, stockpiling, and sale of arms and armour does not prevent the House of Light from performing these tasks in service of another. Smiths may hire priests to perform the duties you propose, provided that the finished goods do not end up in the possession of the church. If there was any market for the wares you seek to manufacture, then the opportunity for profits would have been seized years ago.¡±


    ¡°The argument that priests could have undertaken the same duties in the assistance of artisans outside the umbrella of our organization fails to take into consideration the scale of production. The manufacture of imbued equipment is more costly than it would be, should the process be performed at scale.¡± I replied.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes-¡±


    The arguments continued back and forth. Eventually the vote was called. The motion failed to pass. It wasn¡¯t encouraging. If they weren¡¯t willing to consider doing this much, then I doubted they would consider the next two proposals.


    ¡°I have already spoken of the troubles that come, of the chaos that waits around the corner. Now I would speak to you of the steps we can take to mitigate them. Since time immemorial, heroes and villains have waged a war of reprisal against each other. We answer to no laws save those of the heavens, and thousands have suffered as a consequence of this. I offer to remedy this. To form a council of Named heroes in the Principate that regulate the behaviour of heroes and villains alike.¡±


    It was the quietest the chamber had been since the start.


    ¡°But like all boons, there is a cost. Should you wish for heroes to obey the dictates of the law, then the laws need to encompass all. There are procedures to remove a prince or even the First Prince through the Highest Assembly. Those procedures rarely ¡ª if ever ¡ª see use. Poisoning kin to avoid the sting of justice is the avoidance of justice, not the meting out of it. Each of you received a written proposal detailing a series of laws I wish to pass, detailing conditions whereby a hero may judge and execute those who hold the current office.¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Cantal,¡± the Master of Orders spoke.


    ¡°The advice of those Chosen by the Heavens is always such a delight,¡± the man smiled. ¡°While I wouldn¡¯t hesitate to pass such an enlightened motion, I suspect the wisdom of why may be lost on everyone else.¡±


    This man is such an ass.


    ¡°I¡¯m simply acknowledging the world as it already is, then doing my best to change it for the better. The Chosen and the Damned already live by a different set of rules. The White Knight who called down an Angel of Contrition because the First Prince of the time intended to bargain with the Dead King at the start of the Seventh Crusade was never held to account. Laurence de Montfort once slew the Salutary Alchemist and the Prince of Valencis and walked free. The Fey Enchantress murdered two Princes of Procer before she was laid low. In some cases the fates of the princes were earned, in others they were not. If you wish for the opportunity to hold the Chosen and the Damned to account, then the law needs to hold in both directions.¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.¡±


    ¡°Salienta¡¯s Graces have declared all men to stand equal before the law since the founding of the Principate of Procer. Passing your proposal would not only make a mockery of the story of our nation, but it would in effect be passing the reins of power from the hands of the princes to the House of Light. Justice applies to both the high and the low, should those in the seat of power be found guilty.¡±


    ¡°Do they?¡± I asked quietly. ¡°Do they stand equal before the law? If a man is assaulted on the streets and his assailants are caught, then whether the perpetrator is tried is dependent on their standing. Those in power aren¡¯t found guilty. They just quietly disappear when it''s inconvenient. The system doesn¡¯t even work. Not completely. If it did, then you wouldn¡¯t have the civil war.¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Princess of Valencis.¡±


    ¡°You would rather the laws of the nation change, then those who would break them are held to account for it?¡±


    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t those with a Name follow different rules? You already have different rules for princes, for priests and for wizards. Wizards can¡¯t heal according to the law. Nobles face different punishments than peasants. Priests have a large series of rights and responsibilities that nobody else has. Why should the Chosen be any different? Our circumstances diverge wildly from anyone else¡¯s. It¡¯s folly to try to treat us the same.¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.¡±


    ¡°The law often fails the people that it serves completely and utterly. That is not an argument to cast it aside, but rather to amend its many faults. You would dismiss both our laws and our traditions to enact a system of rule where the power to decide life and death rests in your hands alone. You would make of yourself a tyrant. A monarch in all but name in a nation that prides itself on rule through consensus.¡±


    ¡°I already have that power. If the Saint of Swords was to ride thr-¡±


    The door to the Chamber of Assembly shattered, then everything went to hell.

 Concord 5.0i

    ¡°I find that High Lords share much in common with signal fires, Chancellor. You only need to set so many of them alight before somebody correctly interprets the message.¡±


    ¨DDread Emperor Foul III, ¡°the Linguist¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Chosen, Taylor Hebert,¡± the Master of Orders announced in a thick, Lycaonese accent.


    The white-haired Master was one of her own Rhenians, one with a talent for languages she¡¯d put into place soon after she¡¯d ascended the throne. In this battlefield of courtesies and ceremonies, there were few advantages more precious than an arbiter of ceremonies entirely loyal to her.


    Cordelia Hasenbach considered the Chosen before her while she appraised the room.


    The Aspirant¡¯s revelations into the deeper workings of the House of Light was a boon that Cordelia had not expected, but was eager to capitalize upon. The House of Light had ever been a thorn in the foot of every First Prince from as far back as the founding of the Principate. Cordelia would strive her utmost to see the institution have the last of its claws pulled out.


    She would allow the proposal acknowledging Taylor as the leader of the House of Light to pass out of strategic necessity. Refusing the petition would weaken her position among her peers by denying them an opportunity to seize lands from the church, while seeing it through damaged the foundation of Taylor¡¯s argument for further authority. Once the leader of the House of Light existed as a legal entity within the laws of Procer, the position would come with certain expectations that Taylor could not hope to fulfil.


    Some dispossessed fantassins could be provided with incentives to relocate onto lands owned by the House of Light. They were sure to bring about strife now that they were bereft of purpose. Taylor was ill-equipped to manage the disruption that they would cause. It would not take much to convince the other princes to keep their hands to themselves. Patrols could be relocated in lands belonging to the Church, security could be made more lax.


    The House of Light would request assistance once the fantassins turned to banditry. Assistance that would then be denied. A sufficient rise in tensions within church lands would pressure smaller church holdings into seceding from the House of Light at large. They would deem it safer to renounce the rights to their own lands in exchange for protection, then allow their lands to become ungovernable.


    The House of Light did not have the ability to safeguard their own lands without the right of recruitment. That alone would provide sufficient incentive for every other motion to be denied by the Highest Assembly, even ignoring all other considerations.


    Another leader of the House of Light might go so far as to threaten a Liturgic war in response to such an obvious retaliation, but doing as much ran against the grain of both Taylor¡¯s plans and her nature. Without both the means and the will to enforce her authority, Taylor¡¯s foundation of power was nothing more than a castle of sand built before the oncoming tide.


    Attempting to claim more privileges for herself so soon after being legitimized would be seen as a grave overreach of power by everyone else within the Chamber of Assembly. It would be the work of years to further reduce the influence of the House of Light, but Cordelia was confident that she could slowly whittle it away.


    And while the matter of the House of Light was a problem of some import, it was not the sole contender for Cordelia¡¯s attention.


    Cordelia had already discussed her ideas for Callow with Louis de Sartrons, and the first seeds of rebellion were ready to be sown. Insurgents within their eastern neighbour would be provided with both Proceran intelligence into the operational procedures of the Revolutionary in addition to some ancillary assistance towards their goals. It would be some time before those plans bore fruit, but she had assured she would see proof of her investment before the following winter.


    Spring was almost upon them, and yet the northern borders remained silent. The Chain of Hunger could be expected to remain still for the next five years ¡ª if Taylor was to be believed ¡ª and yet that did little to explain the uncharacteristic stillness from Keter.


    It felt like the calm before the storm.


    News from Mercantis made Cordelia¡¯s hackles rise. The Ravel Bank had materialized out of thin air and poured seemingly limitless coffers of coin onto the streets of the City of Bought and Sold. While it bore all the hallmarks of legitimate Mercantis coinage, something about its origin struck Cordelia as off. Declaring Mercantis currency illegitimate was fraught with many risks, but she suspected that failing to do so might have long term economic repercussions for the Principate when the house of cards toppled over at long last.


    The dwarves had continued to provide material assistance as per her existing agreements with them after the end of the war, however her spies had informed her that there was an undercurrent of trouble brewing below the surface. Cordelia did her best to put that complication out of her mind, for any trouble involving the dwarves extended far beyond her ability to contain.


    It was the Arlesite principalities that would prove to be the biggest obstacle to her long term ambitions. The potential wealth to be gained by repossessing House of Light holdings would only occupy their attention for so long before their ambitions returned to the throne. Cordelia had considered using their southern neighbours as a distraction for the Arlesites, only the borders with the Dominion of Levant were quiet for the first time in years. The attention of the nation had turned inward shortly before Cordelia seized the throne.


    ¡°By ancient oath, let every word I speak ring true,¡± the brunette declared.


    Let us see how much you have learned.


    <hr>


    Laurence de Montford sat atop a mount as weary as she was. The beast of burden trotted along the open road with no set destination in sight. The currents of fate would see her to her destination. Post coronation celebrations continued unabated even into the late noon of a new day. Her time drew close, she could feel it in her bones.


    Her strength had continued to wane.


    Soon, the world whispered to her. Soon, the thread of her story would be cut loose.


    Taylor had confided the broader shape of her vision to Laurence. A world where both Named and the Princes were truly held to account. Where heroes could not weasel and connive like Proceran royalty and villains had no place at all.


    It was a pretty dream, but one that could not be forged without large swaths of the old order fuelling the fire first. So Laurence had embarked on a journey from one principality to another before returning to Salia. She had learned what she could about each prince from their people in the time she spent on the road.


    Some principalities she had no need to cast a shadow over.


    Those she was already familiar with the leaders of. Should the worst come to pass ¡ª as Laurence expected it would ¡ª then the Lycaonese rulers could all be spared the kiss of her blade. Her brief visit in Aisne had left her with a positive impression of Princess Clotilde as well.


    The further south she had travelled, the more assured of the path she had chosen she became.


    Laurence did not know where she needed to be, but she knew that it lay somewhere close. She could almost feel the shape of the story.


    The jubilant crowd parted around her like a head from a corpse.


    It was the heavy smell of a brewery that alerted her to the arrival of the Wandering Bard. Laurence¡¯s focus narrowed, honed itself in to a point. Her friend only ever appeared when the hour was darkest.


    ¡°Going somewhere, old friend?¡± A voice called out from beside her.


    ¡°One last swing, then it¡¯s time to bury the hatchet,¡± Laurence replied.


    Her wrinkled hands tightened on the reins. Her dappled mount slowed.


    Dark blonde hair, narrow face and clothes of a like that Laurence had never seen before were dismissed as quickly as they were noted. It was the familiar flask and lute which marked her friend for who she was.


    ¡°It¡¯s been tried a few times, you know.¡±


    The Wandering Bard matched her pace to that of Laurence¡¯s horse. They both cut their way through the celebrations ¡ª ignored ¡ª as if both of them were no more than ghosts.


    ¡°What has?¡±


    The Wandering Bard was her senior in namelore. Every word she spoke could be mined for nuggets of wisdom. Her advice would be invaluable when navigating the chaos in the years to come.


    ¡°Reforming both the Principate and the Highest Assembly through diplomacy. Princess Eliza Alaguer was one of the last to give it a good go. She appealed to the common folk first. Tried to build popular support. When that failed, she appealed to the House of Light, before finally turning to the nobility. Many of the books that she wrote still exist in some form or another today.¡±


    ¡°How did her life end?¡±


    The Bard broke off from their jaunt and headed towards a palace in the distance. Laurence trailed behind.


    ¡°Her attempt at reforming the Highest Assembly failed. What little support that she had vanished. Then her own family turned on her. She had made their position among the Salamans nobility tenuous. They told her to abdicate. She refused, and they imprisoned her in her own quarters. She starved to death in defiance of their will rather than abdicate in favour of somebody else.¡±


    ¡°And what of reform at the edge of a blade?¡±


    ¡°An Angel of Contrition touched three hundred thousand people in Salia at the start of the seventh crusade, including the Highest Assembly at the time.¡±


    That the nature of the Principate had not changed in the aftermath need not be mentioned at all. It was much as Laurence had thought. Regardless, she would not hesitate to cut. For it was only when Good surrendered its will to fight that Evil would truly win. Good would try, and try, and try again and one day their efforts would bear fruit.


    ¡°Have you met Taylor? Are you aware of the new stories she gave birth to?¡±


    The Bard halted, raised a hand and tilted the lute from side to side, before taking a pull with the other.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to judge. There might be some room to manoeuvre given the mess she made, but it remains to be seen how it will all pan out. I have some hope for the future, though.¡±


    ¡°Then my plans remain unchanged.¡± Laurence turned her eyes away from the Bard, onto the palace ahead.


    ¡°Farewell, old friend.¡±


    Laurence felt the presence beside her vanish.


    She pulled the reins, urging her horse into motion once more. It trotted up to the palace gates. The guards took one look at her and stiffened. It took a brief interrogation to learn that the palace she was outside contained the Chamber of Assembly, then a few more gentle threats to have them open the gates.


    The horse trotted its way onto the palace grounds and along busy corridors.


    ¡°Why shouldn''t those with a Name follow different rules¡­ Wizards can''t¡­ Why should the Chosen be¡­¡±


    Words whispered on the wind from some place far off, deeper within the palace. Laurence listened intently to their echoes. Taylor was speaking before the Highest Assembly. Arguing for the right of the Chosen to judge the princes. As if they needed the justification of petty men and women with tainted aspirations when they had the approval of the Gods.


    ¡°The law often fails the people¡­¡±


    Cordelia Hasenbach replied. Laurence sneered. She had shown so much promise at first, taking the southern princes to task and starting to purge the poison in the Principate. Only when it came time to make the hard decisions, her hand pulled away from the axe.


    The ancient oak door to the Chamber of Assembly loomed ahead.


    ¡°I already have that power. If the Saint of Swords was to ride thr-¡±


    She drew her blade and sliced into the air before her.


    The door shattered into thousands of splinters.


    Laurence de Montford rode into a Chamber of Assembly that was utterly silent. Cordelia Hasenbach sat on a plain block of granite. Laurence presumed that the deceptive simplicity of it was supposed to contain some trite message, however any deeper meaning was wasted on these scheming eels. Klaus Papenheim was absent. The old war dog had left another hand to vote in his stead.


    Laurence towered over everyone, seated as she was on her mount.


    It took her less time than it took to draw steel to realize that she had arrived in the Chamber of Assembly too soon. The stage had not yet been set, the story was not yet in swing. Should she withdraw? No, all of Taylor¡¯s plans would unravel if she stepped out of the room. The only way forward was through the monster¡¯s guts. She would carry out the task she had chosen for herself and hope that she cut hard deep enough to bleed the monster out.


    ¡°Good afternoon, Your Highness, Princes and Princess of Procer.¡± Laurence called out. ¡°The only laws that should concern us are the laws laid down by the Gods.¡± Laurence held her blade by her side, not bothering to sheathe it at all. ¡°The Aspirant was Chosen by them. None of you back biting rats can make the same claim. It¡¯s your scheming that turned this land so diseased.¡±


    ¡°Bravo, bravo. Encore! Encore!¡± Prince Arnaud clapped.


    ¡°Shut your mouth,¡± she snapped at him. ¡°Your people had plenty to say about you, Prince Arnaud. Your throat will be the first that I slit should this come to blows.¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia,¡± the white haired man spoke as Cordelia Hasenbach rose to her feet.


    ¡°This is,¡± she declared, her voice hard, ¡°the Chamber of Assembly. It is the seat of power of the most powerful surface nation on Calernia, not a city square where one can wander about and bluster as one pleases.¡±


    Cordelia Hasenbach remained standing ¡ª but glared at her ¡ª as if she believed that a nasty stare was enough to see Laurence cowed. The kid had courage and the vision to see some good done, but was allowing herself to become complacent now that she had seized the throne.


    ¡°There is no place barred from those bearing the favour of the Gods,¡± Laurence retorted. ¡°Not the Kingdom of the Dead, not the lands of Praes, certainly not a musty old chamber filled with snivelling snakes.¡±


    ¡°If you wish to petition before the Highest Assembly, then you may do so after following the correct procedures.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± Laurence grinned at them all, ¡°and neither are any of you until this vote is properly resolved. If Taylor here is the Angel hanging over your shoulder whispering to do the right thing, then think of me as the orc that will rip out your intestines and dine on your entrails should you be tempted to stray onto a darker path.¡±


    The Chamber held its breath for a moment. Many turned their gaze towards the shattered door ¡ª likely considering whether they could escape before she cut them down ¡ª but none dared to challenge her proclamation.


    ¡°You cannot govern a nation with swords. You cannot feed its people, build its cities, pave its roads, or man its walls with weapons and words alone. It takes ingenuity, artifice, and order to rule anything larger than a moderately sized hamlet. Years spent learning statecraft are required to have even a hope of managing a nation the size of Procer,¡± Cordelia Hasenbach retorted.


    Taylor stepped forward into the middle of the room.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Aspirant,¡± the old man declared.


    ¡°It is fortunate then that I am not requesting the right to rule the Principate, only the right to mete out justice within it,¡± Taylor challenged her. ¡°All of you have received a draft of my proposal before this motion was brought forth. It lays out terms for when it is acceptable for a hero to judge a prince, but it also lays out terms for when it is not. The right of execution is only given for heinous crimes including ¡ª but not limited to ¡ª rape, torture, conjuring forth demons, and a few other specific acts as defined by existing laws.¡±


    ¡°The Principate of Procer has existing systems by which appeals can be made to address all of these concerns.¡±


    ¡°Systems that don¡¯t work because they¡¯re infected, sick to the core with the same disease that plagues every other part of this nation,¡± Laurence replied.


    ¡°While all of those skills you detailed and many more are required to lead a nation, they do not grant the princes the right to treat the citizens of Procer as nothing more than cattle to be used.¡±


    ¡°Should the citizens of the Principate find reason to oppose the governance of their princes then they are already able to give protest.¡±


    ¡°The capacity to complain does not equate to the power to enact change.¡±


    <hr>


    Cordelia Hasenbach took her seat on the hard granite block once more.


    She considered the two white robed heroines before her. It took effort to keep the distaste from her lips. She had thought for but a moment that the arrival of the Saint of Swords had been some scheme by the other chosen, however only a glance spared in the Aspirant¡¯s direction had shattered that illusion. She was as taken by surprise by Laurence de Montfort¡¯s arrival as everyone else in the Chamber of Assembly.


    The untimely arrival of the Saint of Swords also did not bear any of the hallmarks of Taylor¡¯s approach to politics. While the Aspirant was ill-equipped to fight within these halls, she had shown a modicum of respect and abided by their traditions every step of the way.


    Her uncle had called Laurence de Montfort a hard woman who always means well. It would be unlike her to draw her blade against the Highest Assembly without sufficient provocation, but her presence might convince the others to reconsider their votes.


    Agnes would have warned me if death threatened these halls, unless something else has occupied her.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Brus,¡± the Master of Orders declared.


    ¡°You claim to have no aspirations for war, and yet you marched alongside Princess Mathilda against the forces of Brus. You claim to have no thirst for power, and yet even now you claw at the authority of the Princes of Procer. Is this all there is to you? Are you nothing more than a nest of contradictions with pretensions of virtue?¡±


    ¡°None of my actions are contradictory,¡± Taylor denied. ¡°I stopped a war when both sides were prepared to give battle. Thousands of soldiers lived who would otherwise have perished. I¡¯m also not asking for the right to make new laws or to overrule the Highest Assembly ¡ª except in specific extreme circumstances which are outlined in the written proposal ¡ª only for the right to render judgement.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not asking for the right to render judgement,¡± the Saint of Swords snapped from the back of her horse. ¡°She already has that. The Gods gave that to their Chosen, and none of you little shits have the power to take it away from us. She¡¯s telling you to recognize both her place as judge and executioner and your own as the accused.¡±


    Taylor¡¯s expression was as open as a book to all here who could read it. She was not pleased with Laurence de Montfort, but did not speak against her for fear of weakening her own position.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia,¡± the Master of Orders declared.


    Cordelia Hasenbach rose to her feet once more.


    ¡°Upon appointing yourself leader of the Proceran House of Light, you took it upon yourself to restructure the internal hierarchy of the institution. You have delegated individuals to positions of leadership, determined the allocation of funds and taken it upon yourself to define internal House of Light policy. You claim that you have no intention of ruling, and yet your every action since returning from the north gives lie to those words.¡±


    She sat down again and waited for the Aspirant to respond.


    ¡°None of my proposals grant me the rights to govern any lands save those which already fell within the possession of the church.¡± Taylor paused. Her too wide jaw stiffened, then she changed her approach. ¡°There is currently no viable method for a Prince of the Principate to hold a hero or villain to account. I¡¯m not asking you to put me in charge. You¡¯re more than welcome to pass a law declaring me ineligible to rule. I¡¯m asking you to recognize my right to mete out justice.¡±


    Cordelia could have argued further, but doing as much would have been counter-productive to her own cause. Taylor had deflected from Cordelia¡¯s point, not challenged the body of it. She did not realize that none of those present would be fooled by the digression.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Neustria,¡± the Master of Orders declared.


    The woman¡¯s green mail rattled as she rose to her feet. She had never been one for courtly intrigue and had come to the Highest Assembly dressed for an altogether different kind of conflict.


    ¡°You did right by us in the swamp, girl. I¡¯ll acknowledge as much. You might even make for a good royal arbiter, but whose to say your successor would be? We wouldn¡¯t just be trusting you with this power, we¡¯d be trusting every person who comes afterwards.¡±


    ¡°My proposal lays out rules. Terms that me or my successor must abide by. Those include the selection process for appointing my eventual replacement. Their authority needs to be acknowledged by the others among the Chosen, and they require the blessing of the House of Light. The Highest Assembly has no say in the process as by allowing them oversight it perverts the purpose of the position.¡±


    ¡°This does nothing to assuage any of our many concerns.¡±


    ¡°All of you should feel nervous,¡± Laurence de Montfort interjected. ¡°The peasants in the fields don¡¯t have any assurances that you¡¯re protecting their interests. It¡¯s about time you felt the same. This change is supposed to feel like the Gods Above are breathing down your neck and reminding you to be good little nobles or die screaming.¡±


    ¡°What a brilliant proposal,¡± Prince Arnaud smiled as he blustered. ¡°Why, how could we never have consi-¡±


    ¡°Shut up you worm, or you¡¯ll be a head shorter before the day is out,¡± the Saint of Swords snarled from the back of her horse and levelled her blade at the man. ¡°I can sense the darkness that lies at the heart of you.¡±


    ¡°Why, how rude. See how she treats me when all I would do is throw in my weight behind her proposal?¡±


    ¡°It festers like an illness. How fortunate for you that I¡¯m holding the cure.¡±


    ¡°Threatening violence won¡¯t convince the princes that I¡¯m right.¡± Taylor stated.


    Cordelia suspected that Taylor had come to the erroneous conclusion that her earlier decision to avoid addressing Laurence was incorrect. That if she played herself off as the reasonable party then it might help to strengthen her own argument. While setting herself up as the animal handler holding the lion¡¯s leash might in other circumstances grant her a measure of legitimacy, doing so in the Chamber of Assembly only made a mockery of their procedures.


    Cordelia would curtail her involvement while Laurence¡¯s intervention continued to undercut Taylor¡¯s proposal. She doubted that there was any argument the Aspirant could present that would sway the minds of the other Princes to her cause regardless.


    ¡°Think, Taylor. This house is rotten to the bone and needs to be cleaned. If some of them die today because they can¡¯t give up scheming, back biting and betraying each other, so the rest of them can do their duty then the Principate is all the better for it.¡±


    Prince Arnaud did an admirable job at playing the part of the fool. With little effort he had redirected the Aspirant¡¯s attention from assuaging Mathilda¡¯s worries to arguing with her own ally.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Princess of Valencis,¡± the Master of Orders interrupted their discussion with narrowed eyes and downturned lips.


    ¡°You presented the argument that heroes should sit above the law due to the circumstances of their choosing. By switching only a few words one could argue that thieves or murderers should be freed from the trappings of justice in turn. What sets heroes apart from any other ruffian? Why do their circumstances merit additional consideration?¡±


    ¡°The Gods appointed us you scheming rat,¡± Laurence replied.


    ¡°I see no reason to consider the merits of a proposal that would allow one such as this to walk free.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still prissy about that Prince of yours I cut down? If you want to lodge a complaint with the heavens, then I can send you to join him.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to pour salt over an old wound, Laurence.¡±


    ¡°It''s better for all of them to understand where they stand in relation to us,¡± Laurence retorted.


    ¡°When the laws fail, something needs to change,¡± Taylor addressed the original concern. ¡°Either the laws themselves or how they are enforced. Laws are not immutable and need to adapt to the society that they serve. Look around you,¡± she spread her arms. ¡°For twenty years you waged war upon one another and blood flowed like water, staining the soil of this land. How many times must this folly be repeated, how many more wars just like this one will it take for you to admit that the system you have does not work?¡±


    ¡°This is not a defence of your proposal, only a repudiation of our current system of governance. It is easy to set fire to another¡¯s fields, but much harder to grow crops of your own.¡±


    ¡°The next time the Dead King marches his armies south, will you even be able to find it within yourselves to stand together against him? How long until the enmity between principalities is so strong that even the threat of extinction is not enough to bind your peoples together? Can this nation survive even another decade of conniving before it falls apart at the seams?¡±


    ¡°I repeat once more.¡± Princess Leonor declared, ¡°This is not a defence of your proposal, only a repudiation of our current system of governance.¡±


    ¡°If you wish to prevent disasters such as this one from repeating, then a series of checks, balances, and incentives are required. The full scope of reforms necessary are beyond me, but I know this much. If they don¡¯t acknowledge the reality of the world we live in, then they will always fall short. You will never be able to regulate heroes without their implicit buy in.¡±


    Cordelia signalled her desire to speak. The Master of Orders gave her a subtle nod.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.¡±


    ¡°The First Prince of Procer has the resources of the most powerful nation on the surface of Calernia at their fingertips. It cannot be understated how much harm could be done if that power was wielded without any restrictions. You posit the idea that heroes already exist outside the laws of our nation. Why then, would you elevate them above the First Prince? What makes them fit to hold more power than the ruler of the Principate? Surely laws should be enacted to curtail their power, rather than grant them more.¡±


    ¡°The Highest Assembly barely serves as an adequate check on the power of the First Prince. It does nothing to hold the rest of these rats accountable,¡± the Saint of Swords stated.


    ¡°Laurence,¡± Taylor chided looking up to the woman on the horse beside her. ¡°There¡¯s no need for names or threatening violence.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re blinding yourself, Taylor,¡± she spat onto the limestone floor. ¡°The heads on these thrones have grown so bloated on their own wickedness that they aren¡¯t even willing to consider an idea that threatens their own power.¡±


    ¡°Killing them won¡¯t solve the problem,¡± Taylor replied, then returned her attention to the throne. ¡°Neither the peasants nor the priests nor the wizards have the strength of arms required to challenge the security of the Princes of Procer. That capacity lies solely in the hands of the chosen and the damned. Nobody else would even give you reason to pause. Who else could even perform the duty?¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Princess of Aisne.¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, Chosen,¡± Princess Clotilde did her best to speak without trembling, but the tremors in her arms were plain for all to see, ¡°but you have made many claims as to the necessity of passing this proposal but have failed to provide an adequate reason as to why we should vote for it.¡±


    ¡°Many new heroes and villains will arise in the years to come. There is no telling how much harm their actions will cause if it isn¡¯t regulated.¡±


    ¡°While I make no claims as to the veracity of that statement, I fail to see how your proposal mitigates any of the disasters that are alleged to come. Surely you do not suggest that heroes will cease to apprehend villains if this proposal fails to pass? Are you suggesting that you would stand aside in the face of actions you deem Evil without being given permission to judge us?¡±


    ¡°No, no, you don¡¯t understand the breadth of this proposal,¡± Prince Arnaud called out once again. ¡°Why, by declaring that Named conflict will be regulated the outcome is all but assured. Isn¡¯t that how all laws function?¡±


    The Saint of Sword looked at the man, raised a finger and made a cutting motion across her own throat.


    He grinned at her and waved merrily in reply.


    ¡°The fourth proposal I prepared for your consideration addresses implementation,¡± the Aspirant replied.


    ¡°May I remind all speakers that the merits of the fourth petition made by the House of Light are not the current subject of debate,¡± the Master of Orders declared.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.¡±


    ¡°The Principate has existed as a nation since the fall of Triumphant and in that time thousands of rulers have graced these halls. Less than a hundred of them have died at the hands of heroes and villains both. Historically heroes have proven a less effective form of deterrence than the existing methods for unseating rulers. Why then should they be granted the rights and privileges that you have petitioned for when there is no historical evidence to support your claims?¡±


    ¡°There can be no evidence to support the proposed alternative because it relies on a different series of systems which currently do not exist.¡±


    Cordelia Hasenbach listened with both ears as the proposed motion was dissected on the Chamber of Assembly¡¯s floor¡­


    <hr>


    Agnes felt out of place as she moved around the bare garden within the palace walls. With only a handful of bare trees, a broken headless statue of a man that Cordelia insisted was First Prince Clothor Merovins, and two uncomfortable stone benches this garden was the closest she came to feeling at home.


    She felt it, sitting down on the bench beside the statue, the moment that the music played wrong.


    The broken child found their purpose in the north. A guardian of flames, the lighthouse keeper. They returned to warn of the oncoming storm, only another tried to contest their place. The conflict was brief. A new keeper is chosen. The flame was lit. Now, the storm approaches. The lighthouse shines bright in the darkness, but the ship has not yet sailed into port.


    Dawn arrives and cuts through the clouds. Only it arrives too soon. A false dawn. The fire is extinguished. The keeper descends the stairs, their duty done, only the clouds roll in once more as the false dawn fades away.


    The keeper sees their mistake and climbs the stairs once more, but time is short. The ship flounders at sea. It veers off course and will crash into the rocks without a beacon to guide it to the shore.


    Another. Another tried their hand at threading the needle of time. A face with more faces than there were stars, whose presence could only be noticed through the ripples they cast on the pond.


    It was a crack, a tear in the weave of the future. Blame would be apportioned should the ship sail into the rocks. The sailors would blame the keeper, but the keeper is not at fault. Time needs to be purchased for the flame to be lit once more. Only, how?


    Agnes glanced at the cracks trailing across the courtyard and followed the small growths of grass sprouting between the tiles in defiance of winter¡¯s icy grasp, and glimpsed behind the curtain. Life in defiance of death, a path, a way forward. Even the darkest of storms could be navigated with the right captain.


    But who to choose?


    Agnes could not determine what it was that her unnamed partner sought to achieve, but she could discern the edges of the shadow that hovered over Cordelia. Should the Augur not intervene, then of those aboard the ship she was favoured for captaincy. It was not the future that the Auger had charted and yet¡­ was it one that bore navigating away from?


    It was difficult for Agnes to peer around the curtain that shrouded the stage. She looked and she looked. Deeper and deeper. Her eyes clouded over, and her breath became shallow from the toll it took. Careful, danger, some part of her whispered. And there, there! At the last moment, she caught but a glimpse of strings. The abyss beckoned. Agnes pulled back. Out, out, out of the maelstrom.


    Her breath caught.


    No, that was not a current that she could countenance. Her cousin, wrapped tight in strings, dancing to the tune of another. She had placed her trust in Cordelia, not in some unseen hands hidden above the stage.


    Was there another path?


    The dagger with no handle? Where an old path failed a blade could be used to carve a new one. Carve a passage through the reef. Her mother had said as much, at least. Hadn¡¯t she? Agnes shook her head. She needed to pay attention. She could not afford to become lost in the then, she needed to stay in the now. No, it would always cut both ways. The foe she duelled with could seize the blade and bleed an ocean without perishing from the cost. Besides, no matter how she positioned the blade, her hands would always be stained red when she decided to cut.


    The lead wick candle? Where an old light dies another could be fanned anew? There lay possibility. The candle burned in many colours and brought smiles to even the dourest of faces. But no, it could not shine bright enough to guide the way to the shore. Its fumes were toxic besides, and only her foe could afford to inhale the smoke.


    How about¡­ Yes, that would work. The fool had yet to claim a place on the stage. The faceless puppet master could only pull strings where strings were attached. He had no strings. None yet, at the very least. The fool did not know how to captain the ship.


    No matter.


    There were many ways to save the ship, and the fool knew how to play the part.

 Concord 5.14

    ¡°The Proceran take on negotiations is to kill one of your own citizens, slam their mangled body on the negotiating table, then demand that your interlocutor pays you reparations.¡±


    ¡ª Prokopia Lekapene, first and only Hierarch of the Free Cities


    <hr>


    If you hadn¡¯t challenged Laurence¡¯s presence here, then maybe the other princes would be less confident and wouldn¡¯t have risked speaking out against her. At least a quarter of the blame falls on you if Laurence decides to strike. Convincing the Highest Assembly to vote with me was hard enough before I had this added pressure. Before I could have lived with failure, now none of us can afford it at all.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Princess of Valencis,¡± the white haired man intoned.


    I glanced up towards the short, aged figure on the dappled horse to my left. Despite holding a sword in one hand, it was clear she was at ease. There was a¡­ looseness to her. She was not yet poised to strike.


    She¡¯s going to attack if this motion fails to pass, and I don¡¯t think I can convince her otherwise. I¡¯m half certain she¡¯s going to attack even if it does pass. Just vote the thing through and rescind it later if it''s such a problem, you idiot rulers. You¡¯re making my job of keeping you alive so much harder. It¡¯s not just my plan that falls through if Laurence swings her blade, many of you will die as well. It''s much harder to protect you than to fight her, and I don¡¯t think I can stop her before she¡¯s killed at least half the room.


    ¡°You have stated that you do not wish to rule over us, and yet you attempt to pass a motion that would guarantee you the right to do so. If the only princes who rule over the principate are the ones who do so with your approval, then authority resides within your palms.¡±


    I turned my attention to the dark haired woman in the yellow sundress. The tanned skin of her face was smooth and despite the harshness of her spoken words, her face looked serene.


    This nonsense again. I¡¯m so sick of this argument when it¡¯s not true.


    ¡°Does the Augur rule over the Principate?¡± I challenged.


    Cordelia stiffened at the mention of her cousin. Her eyes narrowing on me.


    ¡°I fail to see the relevance of the First Prince¡¯s cousin to the argument I have raised.¡±


    ¡°Does the Augur rule over the Principate?¡±


    ¡°She does not,¡± Princess Leonor answered, her lips pressed into a line.


    ¡°I¡¯ve known many prognosticators in my time. She is not the first, she probably won¡¯t be the last. The strong ones all have one thing in common. They can control every aspect of your life should they wish to do so. Does that make the Augur the ruler of the principate? It is likely that she can manipulate everything that all of us will do. Is this entire sequence of events already predetermined at her will?¡±


    ¡°The Augur having the capacity to do as much does not make her the ruler of the nation. Furthermore, while the outcome of this debate may already be predetermined, there is no purpose in acting as if it is. We can only proceed as if our choices matter, because the question is meaningless if they do not.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m less likely to influence policy in Procer than the Augur is.¡±


    ¡°Agnes Hasenbach is not presently within the Chamber of Assembly attempting to dictate policy.¡±


    The Princess of Valencis took her seat once more. It appeared that for now she was satisfied. I wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°Her absence here is meaningless, for her cousin bears her torch. Having the capacity to mete out justice doesn¡¯t make me the ruler of this nation. The Augur is arguably more capable in that regard.¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.¡±


    ¡°It is not a question of capacity but one of legitimacy. It is the act of recognition that delineates the difference between a usurper and an ordained leader.¡±


    ¡°My proposal doesn¡¯t allow me to declare laws. It doesn¡¯t allow me to choose rulers. It doesn¡¯t allow me to set levies, or order people around. It doesn¡¯t even allow me to decide what is a crime and what isn¡¯t. Doing any of the above would be a violation of those laws, except in the case of House of Light holdings. All it does is it allows me and other heroes to both determine guilt according to existing laws, and mete out justice if the laws are broken.¡±


    ¡°When who lives and dies is determined by Heaven¡¯s Chosen, then they are the ones who decide who wears the crown. The difference between kingmakers and rulers is no difference at all,¡± Cordelia¡¯s voice was hard. ¡°None of your arguments repudiate this underlying truth. Your failure to recognize as much only indicates that should you come into possession of such power, you would be unfit to wield it.¡±


    I feel like we are just arguing in circles.


    Cordelia sat back down once more.


    The horse near the door snorted. I tensed.


    ¡°Recognizing our authority changes nothing, you scheming snakes. Do you think your laws protect you? If I decide that death is your due, then none of them will stop me from cutting you down,¡± Laurence barked out.


    I exhaled.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Brus.¡±


    ¡°You slew another of the Chosen in the middle of a cathedral in the sight of thousands. If you care so much for the proper application of justice, then why did you not drag him before the law to be judged?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m arguing for giving the chosen the right to mete out justice. Taking the Reformist to task would fall within my line of duties were this motion to pass.¡±


    ¡°What crimes was the man guilty of?¡± Prince Frederic challenged.


    ¡°Pascal made multiple attempts to incite the House of Light towards violence against both sorcerers and the state. Many of his speeches were thinly veiled arguments for declaring a Liturgical War, which falls under the treason laws.¡±


    ¡°The law requires all cases of treason to be tried before a Royal Magistrate.¡±


    ¡°Had I apprehended him and brought him before a magistrate, it is likely that he would have used the opportunity to incite a religious war. My actions saved thousands of lives in the process. If anything, it is a clear example of why I should be trusted to give judgement.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any proof of your allegations? Pascal was never judged before a magistrate. Why should any of us take you at your word?¡±


    ¡°What would you have me do, challenge him to a duel?¡± I asked somewhat sarcastically.


    ¡°Duels fall within the bounds of the law and are an honourable means of settling disputes.¡±


    It¡¯s not like that would have done anything. Pascal would have just declined and continued with his vitriolic rant. Wait¡­ why am I even bothering to argue with this kid?


    ¡°The purpose of this petition is to evaluate the merits of my proposal, not to cross-examine my past actions,¡± I challenged.


    ¡°The Aspirant is correct in her assertion in this circumstance,¡± the Master of Orders replied.


    The Prince of Brus scowled at the Master of Orders, then turned his attention towards me once again.


    ¡°You claim that the Chosen are to be the arbiters of justice, and yet there is strife among you. How are we to trust them as judges when it is evident that heroes cannot trust each other?¡±


    ¡°There have been multiple cases of Royal Magistrates tried for corruption, and even more of Princes either poisoned or hanged. I¡¯m not arguing that heroes are without flaws, or that there will be no internal bickering. I am only arguing that they would be less corruptible than everyone else.¡±


    Frederic Goethal sat down again.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.¡±


    ¡°Both magistrates and princes receive many years of tutelage before they are deemed eligible for performing their duties. Few of the Chosen are schooled in matters of law. Furthermore, the perspectives of the Chosen are all coloured by their relationship with the heavens. Thus, they cannot be counted as either capable or impartial judges.¡±


    ¡°There is nothing preventing them from developing those skills, and it is one of the stipulations I have placed on their authority to render judgement on the nobility. As it currently stands, not even Royal Magistrates can truly call any of you to account. The accusation of heroes not being able to be impartial is laughable and is one that can be levied against every single person in Creation. We are people just like you are.¡±


    There was a brief lull in the debate. The Highest Assembly talked among themselves for a few moments. I took the opportunity to think.


    This is falling apart so fast. I cannot afford to verbally threaten them. It¡¯ll go down in the formal record and stain my reputation. How about¡­ would that work? I can only try. I¡¯ll leave Cordelia for last, since she is the one most likely to ignore the implied threat. She has both the survival instincts and the tenacity of a honey badger.


    The Light flowed through me for less than a heartbeat. The prince furthest on the left was struck with a vision of Laurence duelling the Horned Lord, followed by my ironclad belief that she would kill him if the vote did not pass. The man stiffened. The effect was subtle enough that it would not be noticed unless I was called out for wielding the Light in the room.


    It was when the effect touched Prince Arnaud that I finally struck gold. I wasn¡¯t sure if he was trying to be helpful or not, but his words assisted me nonetheless.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Cantal.¡±


    Laurence tensed beside me.


    ¡°My esteemed friends,¡± the creepy middle-aged man rose to his feet and stroked at his beard. ¡°In the interests of revitalizing this riveting debate, I¡¯ve taken it upon myself to summarize the points raised by the Aspirant and the Saint of Swords so far.¡±


    He paused, straightened out his purple robes and gave everyone a mocking grin.


    ¡°The Aspirant¡¯s first pearl of wisdom is truly the most self-evident. We can¡¯t hold heroes accountable for anything should they question our judgement, so why should we even attempt to do so?¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t stop your insidious blathering, then I¡¯ll carve you like a stuck pig,¡± Laurence snarled.


    ¡°Why, Laurence my good friend, you wound me,¡± the man gasped. ¡°I was only moments away from declaring that it would be far more sensible to leave determining guilt in your competent hands than to concern myself with the impossible.¡±


    ¡°Try anything clever, and I¡¯ll end you.¡±


    ¡°Quite right,¡± he beamed at her. ¡°After all ¡ª as the Aspirant alluded to earlier ¡ª we already have exceptions for both sorcery and the House of Light, why not declare one or two more? Why, the Gods decide whether we live or die on a whim, and aren¡¯t the Chosen their mortal agents? Their champions, here to intercede in their interests? Best we step aside and recognize our places. After all, it would be hubris to deny them their due. Railing against fate will only see us be smote.¡±


    You¡¯re creepy, and probably evil and likely only speaking out of enlightened self-interest, but for now thank you nonetheless. Even if I¡¯m probably going to end your life later after an investigation is done.


    Your point is received. I¡¯d forgotten my audience.


    They¡¯re greedy, self-interested, slimy, snakes who won¡¯t do anything out of the goodness of their own heart. The only argument any of them care about that has been given is that they¡¯ll die if they don¡¯t follow through with my proposal. Unlike the vote to put me in charge of the House of Light, I haven¡¯t given anyone a selfish reason to approve this idea.


    I signalled the Master of Orders.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Aspirant,¡± the aged man announced.


    ¡°I do not believe that by passing this motion the Highest Assembly would be electing me as leader, but let us assume for a moment that it was in fact the case. The question then becomes what would change as a result. What do I have to offer as a leader of the principate?¡± I paused, licked my lips.


    Princess Leonor gave a derisive snort in the interval.


    ¡°I can see what people can dream of,¡± I stated, then pointed towards Cordelia. ¡°She dreams of duty. Of forging the Principate into a tool that can withstand the Evils to the north. Of making it into a weapon that can endure the test of time. One that will not fracture once she dies.¡±


    I swivelled, changed the focus of my attention and pointed towards Prince Arnaud.


    I am being very creative in my statement of your dream, and I hope you appreciate as much. Doing so makes me feel dirty, but Laurence would likely kill you if I didn¡¯t and then this would all collapse.


    ¡°He dreams of the thrill of exerting power over others from a safe and secure home.¡±


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Prince Arnaud gave me a sunny smile.


    Don¡¯t press your luck. I¡¯m having you investigated the moment that I can.


    My finger moved towards Princess Mathilda Greensteel.


    ¡°She dreams of the north being at peace at some point in the far future.¡±


    My hand moved over to the Prince of Brus.


    ¡°He dreams of honourable battle. The kind of battle that only exists in stories, not in the real world.¡±


    Frederic Goethal only shook his ringed, flaxen hair from side to side and gave me a nasty glare in reply.


    I dropped my right hand and raised my left. My thumb jerked towards Laurence.


    ¡°She dreams of two things. The first is of being the blade that kills all Evil. The second is of dying in a blaze of glory.¡±


    Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the Saint of Swords give them all a wolfish grin.


    A spark of realization seemed to light in many of the princes and princesses eyes.


    ¡°I could go on. One by one, I could state the dreams of all of you. I¡¯ve also been deliberately terse in some cases, keeping back some of the more private or sordid details. The point I am making is that I am restrained. I will only act with sufficient proof. I see everyone¡¯s dreams all the time, and I am not holding them all accountable for the things that I learn.¡±


    Please get the message.


    ¡°Taylor here is a good sort. A much kinder soul than I am,¡± Laurence added, tapping on her blade. It gave off an unsettling ring that echoed throughout the entire room. ¡°You should be glad it''s her and not I that is doing the judging. I doubt that many of you would survive past the next few hundred heartbeats.¡±


    I turned towards Princess Mathilda, raised my hand and turned it into Light, then returned it to flesh only a moment later.


    ¡°You questioned me about succession laws. I¡¯m immortal. I can afford to be both patient and selective.¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Neustria.¡±


    ¡°So you intend to set yourself up as the Dead Queen? Another eternal ruler that nobody can escape from?¡± Her lips settled into a firm line.


    ¡°I don¡¯t intend to maintain that authority forever.¡± I denied. ¡°There are other people who could do the job better and other places that also need my help. Furthermore, my longevity means that the selection process for a successor could be meticulous.¡±


    ¡°We only have your word that you would relinquish power.¡±


    ¡°Then think of the other benefits. I could ensure a stable system for aeons. My education will improve over the passage of time. I¡¯ll become more skilled at what I am doing. That allows for long term planning on a scale that is otherwise impossible.¡±


    ¡°That is merely an argument that it would become harder to unseat you as the years pass us by. How would people contest your authority if they were displeased with your rule?¡±


    ¡°Kid, think,¡± Laurence interjected. ¡°Taylor wouldn¡¯t just hold the blade at your throat but at the throat of every dim fiddle to the south of you. She¡¯d help keep their scheming in check. She would also be your best weapon against the Dead King.¡±


    Princess Mathilda frowned. Her brow creased.


    ¡°I will consider the merits of this,¡± she nodded at Laurence, then myself.


    Princess Mathilda¡¯s green mail clinked as she sat down on her throne.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.¡±


    Please don¡¯t say anything stupid.


    I¡¯d finished seeding the visions between everyone in the room and included Cordelia at the end. If she intended to push against me despite that¡­ She only had herself to blame for whatever happened next.


    ¡°You have come before the Highest Assembly and shared many dire proclamations of a tempestuous future to come. Explain the origins of your certainty relating to both ongoing events and the future troubles headed our way,¡± Cordelia Hasenbach¡¯s eyes bored holes into me from up on the dais her throne was positioned on.


    Fuck you, Cordelia. I know what you¡¯re doing, and nobody will be happy about it. Not you, not me, not anyone else. This isn¡¯t a bluff you¡¯re calling. Laurence will strike, and your stupid belief in the power of the Highest Assembly won¡¯t save anyone from the edge of her blade.


    ¡°You are making a mistake,¡± I stated.


    ¡°If you wish for your proposal to be considered, then you need to substantiate all of your many claims.¡±


    ¡°This line of inquiry does not relate to the proposal up for consideration,¡± I turned to the Master of Orders.


    ¡°The proposal is founded upon the Aspirant¡¯s assertions regarding future chaos to come. It holds no merit without proper justification of that assertion. The query is valid,¡± he denied.


    I did my best not to glare at the man, then returned my attention to Cordelia.


    ¡°I travelled north into the Chain of Hunger. There the Gods asked me to give up the stories of my home, so that others may claim them for themselves. Most of the new names stem from my decision to do so.¡±


    ¡°So you claim that all blame for the chaos to come can be laid down at your feet?¡±


    ¡°Would any of you deny the Gods if they made a request of you?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t the Gods, but people that rule Procer. Once again, I ask: are you responsible for the troubles that we face?¡±


    ¡°It was a decision made out of faith.¡±


    ¡°Tell the Highest Assembly what decision you would make should the Gods present you with any further requests while you held power over the rulers of the Principate.¡±


    ¡°The Gods suggested that it would make for a better world, and I can confirm that at least one calamity has been averted that would have destroyed the continent.¡±


    ¡°That is not an answer to my inquiry.¡±


    I can¡¯t deny this. It would be smarter to, but it goes against my beliefs in a way that I¡¯m not comfortable with.


    ¡°I¡¯d do what they asked of me.¡±


    ¡°Those words are proof enough that the Aspirant would act on the wishes of the Gods against the best interest of our nation.¡±


    ¡°Doing what¡¯s right is more important than some lines drawn on a map,¡± Laurence cut in.


    ¡°There is much for all of us to consider in light of these revelations,¡± Cordelia continued. ¡°Why should the Aspirant be entrusted with any further authority when she is responsible for the troubles we are to face? Why should we consider her an adequate ruler when her decisions are always subject to revision at the whims of the Gods?¡±


    ¡°You should listen to her because it¡¯s cleaner than the edge of my blade,¡± Laurence declared, holding up her sword. ¡°You should listen because the Gods know better than any of you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t Laurence. It¡¯s not worth it.¡±


    She¡¯s ignoring me.


    ¡°If the Principate of Procer bowed to every petty would-be tyrant who marched across its borders and demanded we kneel, then we would long be cowed beneath the Praesi boot,¡± Cordelia retorted.


    ¡°You did an admirable job at starting to clean out the rot, girl, but cast your sight beyond these walls towards the nation we live in.¡±


    ¡°You are the one who is blind to the strife this would bring. Another war would break between every principality the very day this motion was passed.¡±


    ¡°Twenty years of bloodshed because this nest of vipers couldn¡¯t keep their hands away from Praesi gold.¡± Laurence shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s time for us to cauterize old wounds.¡±


    ¡°That boil has already been lanced with a proposal passed less than three hours past.¡±


    ¡°Maybe the Principate was a bastion for good once, but those days are long past.¡±


    ¡°It appears that you have not listened to even a single word that I have said,¡± Cordelia scowled.


    ¡°Better to consign the old order to the fire to make space for a new one.¡±


    Cordelia turned towards the other princes. ¡°There is no surviving for any of you who attempt to pass this proposal. Your own families will hold you to account should you vote in its favour. To do otherwise is to court disaster. They would risk having another wrest control of the Principality out from under them. You can also be assured that your fates will be more gruesome than whatever end Laurence de Montfort threatens with her blade.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have much more to say,¡± I stated. ¡°Failing to pass this proposal would be a mistake. This is not Praes, or any other villainous nation. You cannot expect to behave like a villain and not have heroes act against you. It doesn¡¯t work that way. You expect for heroes to hold villains to account. You beg for them to save you from Evil, but then complain when they turn their eyes on your misdeeds. Following moral guidance and accepting limitations placed on your power is part of the price of being good.¡±


    ¡°The Prince of Rhenia moves for vote over the motion,¡± Cordelia stated.


    One vote after another was cast. Each one felt like a ball of lead sinking into my stomach.


    Princess Clotilde of Aisne gave a pretty speech before voting about wishing she could do otherwise. The same goes for Princess Mathilda of Neustria. Didn¡¯t stop either of them from voting against it. Not a single vote went my way.


    ¡°The votes have been tallied, and the outcome has been determined. The motion to-¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Laurence declared.


    The silence was so loud that even the dead could hear it.


    ¡°Laurence, don¡¯t.¡±


    I¡¯ll take out her horse first if I have to, then seize them all in balls and float them into the sky. I¡¯m not sure if I can move fast enough to save them, but I know how hard it will be to stop her in a fight.


    ¡°I warned them all that this only ends one way.¡±


    I could see the princes and princesses staring towards the broken door. Prince Arnaud ¡ª of all people ¡ª looked the most at ease with the disaster that was about to unfold.


    ¡°It¡¯s not worth it. My plan fails if this comes to blows.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a good kid, Taylor.¡±


    ¡°I need legitimacy. Killing them will only damage my cause. You¡¯ll set everyone against both me and the House of Light.¡±


    I was tense, ready to act the moment that Laurence did anything.


    ¡°You¡¯ll do right by everyone.¡±


    She¡¯s not listening to anything I say.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do this. There¡¯s always another chance. It doesn¡¯t need to pass now. I can try again with the next ruler.¡±


    ¡°Think. Think of all the blood and suffering that will come because you chose to back down in the face of refusal. They¡¯ll never hear you out. Not these princes or any of the ones that come after.¡± she shook her head.


    ¡°That¡¯s how a villain thinks. We can do better. Killing them isn¡¯t changing anyone else¡¯s mind.¡±


    My eyes remained riveted to Laurence. I couldn¡¯t even afford to blink. I¡¯d only have moments to save people if she decided to act.


    ¡°They¡¯ll never appreciate what you¡¯re doing for them until they¡¯re the ones who have to pay the price.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t pay anything. New rulers will rise in every principality. There¡¯s going to be chaos, infighting. Maybe even a return to the civil war.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always a cost to changing the world, Taylor. For something new to rise from the ashes, there needs to be a fire first.¡±


    The Princess of Valencis climbed to her feet and took one step towards the door.


    Laurence¡¯s eyes hardened.


    ¡°You won¡¯t be able to fight anywhere else if you do this. No chance to fight against the Kingdom of the Dead. No battle against the Calamities in Praes,¡± I pleaded.


    ¡°There can be no negotiating now with these conniving eels. No putting it off and trying again later. No, this was always going to end one way.¡±


    ¡°You told me that my way was better. Trust me here. You don¡¯t need to do this.¡±


    Laurence shook her head.


    ¡°Better to buy a new blade when the old one breaks, then try to piece together the shards.¡±


    Don¡¯t throw away your life for no reason.¡±


    ¡°Bringing an end to these pompous pricks who sow nothing but strife is more than reason enough.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll fight you if you do this.¡±


    Please. I don¡¯t want to fight you. Not for them. Not over this.


    ¡°What was it you said would happen if I broke into these chambers?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re making this decision blind to the consequences.¡±


    Her eyes gained a faraway, wistful look as she listened to what I said.


    ¡°I always did,¡± she murmured. ¡°What¡¯s one more time before it all ends?¡± Her voice hardened, then she turned her attention away from me. ¡°There can be no truce with the enemy.¡±


    I saw her hands start to tighten on her reins.


    ¡°Laurence, no!¡±


    She swung.


    ¡°Step aside, Taylor.¡±


    I tried to manifest a barrier before the incoming blow. I tried to surround Prince Arnaud in a ball and pull him out of the way. It didn¡¯t help. I was too slow. Both shields shattered, and a red line traced itself across the man¡¯s neck.


    A lance of light departed from my fingertips. It was unfortunate, but I couldn¡¯t affect Laurence directly.


    ¡°Stop. This is wrong.¡±


    Her blade was suddenly there. The beam of Light was deflected towards the Princess of Valencis before it struck Laurence¡¯s horse. I tried to will it away. My thoughts moved too slow.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong about laying this corpse of a nation to rest.¡±


    The Princess didn¡¯t even have a chance to scream as her head disappeared in the blast.


    The eyes of the nobles started to widen, but none of them moved anywhere near as fast as the two of us as we struggled on the Chamber of Assembly¡¯s floor.


    Balls of Light manifested around each of the rulers. I raised my hand and the blackened oak roof of the Chamber of Assembly exploded.


    ¡°You¡¯re making a mistake. Why would they ever hear us out if we take what we want by force?¡±


    Laurence¡¯s mount began to trot towards the thrones. Three more lances headed her way. She rose her blade to deflect them.


    ¡°Better you lead Procer than anyone else.¡±


    I¡¯m going to have to kill her.


    All three beams vanished before striking, then a spear of Light rose from beneath the mount and impaled it as the spheres began to rise.


    ¡°Laurence de Montfort can walk,¡± she declared.


    The world rippled.


    What was that? A command? Did she just order the world to obey her whims? No, that¡¯s not quite it. The moment she spoke, her words became true. True, as if they always had been. A Decree. It was a Decree.


    Laurence threw herself off the dying beast.


    I tried surrounding her with a sphere. Her arm reached out. The sphere started to close in on her. It shattered against her touch.


    She extended her blade.


    The spheres passed through the roof. One of the nobles let out a scream.


    Nothing moves faster than Light. The Light touches everywhere. All places touched by the Light are one and the same. I¡¯m nothing more than the Light made alive. I am where the Gods need me to be. This fight furthers the cause of Evil. Where do they need me to be?


    I felt a pull then. It was faint. Hard for me to even see. Invisible lines reaching out like a web in all directions. One of them tugged at me harder than the rest. I touched myself to it.


    I was in front of Laurence. My left hand reached out. I slapped her blade. It shattered against my palm. Broken shards flew through the air. They passed through me. The wounds closed.


    Time slowed as the Saint of Swords brought down her arm.


    Reality let out a dying wail as it approached.


    I tugged on a line.


    Then I was somewhere else.

 Concord 5.15

    ¡°Three. Look to the mirror to see the face of your own worst enemy. Remember to choose your words with care, no matter who you speak to or where the road takes you. It always hurts more to claim the life of a villain crafted by your own two hands, than to claim the life of a villain forged by another.¡±


    ¡ª ¡®Two Hundred heroic Axioms¡¯, author unknown


    <hr>


    Flicker.


    The world blurred, then I was standing somewhere else.


    Light spilled out from me and lit up a dim chamber.


    The faint smell of wood smoke hit my nostrils first.


    The floor was uneven. None of the baked bricks matched in either size or colouration.


    Not that I could see much of it.


    The chamber was packed with people.


    The feeble stone supporting pillars interspersed throughout the room leaned over in a way that I imagined architecture would be designed if the building had been planned by a committee of drunk spiders.


    I need to get back. Which string do I tug? I can¡¯t tell where any of them go.


    The crowd stood on the floor several steps below. All of them had noticed my arrival and started to turn and stare at me.


    Rubble was flying away from my point of arrival in slow motion.


    What?


    I took a step back and looked at where I had appeared.


    I had materialized inside a what would have been a marble statue.


    A kraken swallowed my sinking heart.


    On top of all of my other problems, did I just deface an important museum piece?


    I was moving fast enough that I had the time to judge what the statue would have looked like had I not just shattered it. It would have towered over me, with an intricate, wide brimmed marble dress and a crown adorning the head. I could only see the statue¡¯s back ¡ª the carving was faced towards the audience ¡ª but I could see enough to judge the skill of the craftsmanship.


    It almost looked alive.


    I risked a glance over my shoulder.


    There was a stone stele. Words were carved into the surface. I couldn¡¯t read what they said, but I took a moment to engrave the general shape of them into my memory. That way, I could hopefully find out where I had been later.


    All are free, or none. Ye of this land, suffer no compromise in this.


    The eyes of the audience widened in slow motion. Their facial expressions were complicated. Some were apoplectic. Some had tears leaking down their eyes. No two faces looked the same.


    I wasn¡¯t surprised.


    The atmosphere of the room felt almost frenzied.


    Great. Did I just start some major conflict? Was that a statue of a saint, or monarch of theirs? Couldn¡¯t I have arrived anywhere else? Did these people really need my intervention? I didn¡¯t ask for this. Forget it, Taylor. Focus on what matters. Either way, I¡¯m not sticking around. Not my lair, not my dragons.


    I didn¡¯t like resorting to using this method of transportation. I¡¯d come up with it through experimentation some time past, but had dismissed it after discovering its limitations. It had so many flaws that made it almost unusable. I could only move myself, for one. I also hadn¡¯t figured out how to transport myself anywhere reliable without using Persevere yet.


    It was possible for me to rely on the Angels of Compassion to guide me to where they thought I needed to be. It wasn¡¯t an effective way to travel. Their opinion on the most important place for me to be and my own weren¡¯t entirely aligned. I was not certain how they decided where I should be, but¡­ it wasn¡¯t one that helped me teleport to a targeted location.


    Trying to navigate on my own was about as bad.


    The strings were starting to fade.


    It¡¯s doubtful I¡¯ll find the right thread in time. I have to take the risk.


    A ghost vanished.


    Flicker.


    I was back in the Chamber of Assembly.


    <hr>


    It happened so fast, Cordelia mused.


    One moment, the Aspirant, and the Saint of Swords had been arguing and less than a heartbeat later both Prince Arnaud and Princess Leonor were missing their heads. Cordelia¡¯s soles had only levitated half her body hight off the ground before Taylor had vanished as well.


    The situation had only devolved in the time that had passed since.


    Laurence de Montfort had taken two steps and backhanded Prince Manfred Reitzenberg, whose head bounced off his own throne. She then took a step to the left, and the Prince of Lyonis was dead not a moment later.


    Gespard, Julienne, Etienne, Ariel.


    It is ironic, she thought bitterly, that it is neither Praes nor the Dead King, nor even the Ratlings to the north who prove to be the greatest threat to our nation¡¯s integrity. Instead, it is the heroes that our people hold so dear that are cutting away at the very heart of our institutions.


    Cordelia started to climb to her feet. She was a Hasenbach, but had been raised by her mother on the ancestral words of the rulers of Hannoven.


    And Yet We Stand.


    Cordelia Hasenbach would not face death lying down.


    She was too slow.


    Before she was even halfway to her feet, the force of nature had turned its attention her way.


    The Aspirant appeared between her and Laurence once more. There were several incandescent flashes. Cordelia dared not blink. Laurence took a step to her left. Suddenly she was beside the Prince of Bayeux. Her winkled face was red, splotchy. It appeared that she was truly exerting herself.


    One of Taylor¡¯s blasts curved. Laurence dodged, but the attack still took her through the arm.


    ¡°The Principate can¡¯t survive another war so soon!¡± Taylor shouted.


    The words were spoken so fast, that Cordelia almost missed them entirely.


    ¡°It¡¯s not supposed to,¡± the Saint of Swords replied.


    The Prince of Brus had risen to his feet and was moving towards Cordelia. The rest of the Highest Assembly were heading towards the shattered door. Prince Frederic approached Cordelia at full sprint. Compared to the other two combatants, he appeared not to move at all.


    ¡°Consider the cost of this!¡±


    The world shimmered. Translucent golden spheres started to manifest around all the Princes and Princesses. Another flare of Light forced Cordelia to squint. Laurence moved to the side, evading three lances, a cone of Light and a spear from below. Laurence swung her remaining arm. The sphere around the Prince of Bayeux shattered. The man perished not long after.


    Space within the Highest Assembly almost appeared to distort. Distances no longer made any sense. Chairs connected to windows and the remains of the rooftop to the floor.


    ¡°The price would be cheap even if it were ten times higher.¡±


    Taylor closed in on her opponent even as a spray of blood stained the floor.


    Princess Luisa¡¯s body started to fall towards the ground.


    The spheres continued to rise. Laurence swung her arm upwards, then started to sprint into the air.


    Thousands of individual walls of Light appeared between Laurence and her next target. They did little to slow her down, but the effort of breaking them seemed to sap at her strength. They also unleashed soul rending shrieks when struck by the back of the Regicide¡¯s palm.


    Neither of the combatants let up in their efforts. Taylor continued trying to delay the Saint of Swords. She attempted both conflict and diplomacy. The latter continued to ignore the Aspirant, except when she interposed herself in front of Laurence¡¯s victims.


    Their arena shifted from the ground to the sky. Cordelia felt the ball around her move as Taylor started to direct the spheres outwards. Cordelia suspected that she was attempting to create as much distance between each of them as possible in an effort to delay the Saint of Swords.


    The Princess of Tenerife perished. So too did l¡¯asserment¨¦es for Lange and Aequitan.


    Taylor is cautious of being struck by Laurence, Cordelia noted.


    The Saint of Swords was flagging as the fight dragged on. More of Taylor¡¯s blows landed against her opponent. Laurence had amassed a collection of holes across her broken body.


    A particularly unfortunate strike forced Taylor to retreat once again.


    The surviving members of the Highest Assembly fell down onto the Chamber of Assembly floor a second time. She landed in a pool of blood and slid to the side. Something snapped. Her nails chipped against the marble floor. A dull throb pulsed through her leg as she rose to her feet.


    She bore through the pain, ignored the flakes of snow that were melting into the blue of her dress or the blood that soaked her right flank, and examined what remained of the room.


    This is intolerable.


    We are better than this.


    Less than ten of their number remained. The Chamber which had been constructed by First Prince Clothor Merovins had been ruined. The oak trusses of the rooftop were gone, the chamber floor was cluttered with scorch marks and shattered wreckage. Holes had been bored through the walls.


    If I need to live forever to shield the integrity of the Highest Assembly from these idiots, then that is what I will do.


    <hr>


    Flicker.


    I appeared in a circular chamber that was partially exposed to the elements. An empty cot lay to one side. There were logs stacked into a neat pile in a raised pit in the middle of the room. A strong, bracing, salty breeze struck my nostrils. The ocean was visible far below through narrow gaps in the weathered grey walls. There was a rumble. Dark clouds blotted out the sky overhead.


    The wind howled.


    The crash of waves against the rocks below sent spray splashing against the walls of the lighthouse.


    I don¡¯t have time for whatever this is. I need to return to the Chamber of Assembly. Sorry, whoever you are and whatever problems you might have.


    I was about to spend Persevere once more, when out of the corner of my eye something ominous caught my attention.


    Peering out as far as I could see ¡ª which was far considering how high up I was ¡ª sails stretched from one side of the horizon to the other. They were too far away for me to make out any further details.


    What is this? An invasion fleet, or is this ordinary sea travel? Do I have time to fly closer and inspect them? See if I can find a flag? Probably not. I¡¯ve already burned through what must have been three seconds, and it already feels like I¡¯ve spent too long here.


    The strands continued to fade from my perception. They had gone from shining webs to dim trails of smoke, silhouetted against an evening sky.


    I glanced behind me once again.


    The fire was not lit.


    My eyes rose even further. They rose, then peered through the gap at the opposite end of the tower.


    I could barely make out a long bridge that extended towards a harbour on the coast through the oily, dense fog. The city on the other side looked as if it hadn¡¯t even woken up. I doubted it was true, but few roofs extended beyond the blanket of mist.


    A small collection of fishing ships was nestled safely within the harbour. Nothing that I would qualify as an ocean worthy vessel.


    Foam lathered itself across a rocky shore.


    There wasn¡¯t another lighthouse in sight.


    There wasn¡¯t even a lit torch to help people navigate closer.


    I didn¡¯t have the faintest idea of where I was. Maybe Ashur, or the City of Bought and Sold. There were other locations it could have been, but I dismissed most of them immediately. This place did not have the right style of architecture for Dormer or Praes.


    No, I don¡¯t think this is Mercantis. Probably Ashur then.


    My attention returned towards the unlit fireplace.


    Seconds could count. It doesn¡¯t matter if they are invaders, or friendly fleets. Both the people inside the city and the people at sea need an alert.


    I focused, channelled the Light towards the pit.


    The logs caught light.


    There, that needs to be enough.


    The third ghost vanished.


    Flicker.


    The world became a wash of colours.


    I was in the Highest Assembly once again.


    <hr>


    All it took was a vote for us to make the floors of our most venerable sanctum into nothing more than a charnel yard.


    Frederic Goethal staggered, then righted himself in the brief window as his feet touched the floor.


    He spared a glance for his other companions in misfortune.


    Cordelia Hasenbach did her best to rise. She had fallen to the ground on his left. She looked proud, regal, even caked in gore.


    All pretty things are lies.


    Should he head towards the exit? No, Frederic Goethal would not make of himself a hypocrite.


    A crown is not a privilege, it is a duty. Were those not the words that you chastised me with once, Cordelia Hasenbach? I did my duty, defending what little remains of our nation after two decades of bloodshed. Now, I venture into the lands well beyond it. With this act, all debts between us are paid in full.


    The Prince of Brus started to limp towards her.


    He was cautious as he navigated the Assembly floor. He took each step with care. One foot before the next. Pools of blood had spread onto the marble. He knew that were his attention to lapse, he would find himself licking viscera off the cold stone surface.


    Frederic Goethal came to a halt. He surveyed the Chamber of Assembly, glancing past the broken shards of a blade and towards whoever remained.


    Boots on stone could be heard clamouring in the distance. The guard approached the Chamber of Assembly, not that he believed they would do much good.


    His eyes fell upon the Saint of Swords.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    With once white robes painted in meaty shades of crimson, Laurence de Montfort looked more monster than woman. She moved towards another prince with unearthly grace.


    So few of them remained among the living.


    So many of them now numbered among the dead.


    Prince Alejandro of Orense let out an anguished wail as the Saint of Swords severed his soul from his corpse.


    Mathilda, Cordelia, Clotilde, and I. In the span of mere moments, Laurence de Montfort reduced us from twenty-three down to four. Others lived on only through their absence. Mayhaps, that honourless hero was correct in her assertions, even if the solution she settled upon was without a doubt erroneous.


    ¡°Laurence de Montfort, I challenge you to a duel,¡± he declared.


    Frederic Goethal was certain that he would die should she accept the offer, but there is a slim possibility that he could anchor the Chamber of Assembly until the Aspirant returned from wherever it was she had fled to. She might make a mockery of all that Procer was, but she was all that stood between the remnants of the Highest Assembly and the final tug of the noose.


    Procer cannot survive another civil war right on the back of the last one.


    The Saint of Swords froze, then spun towards him. She was spry for a woman who was down one arm and riddled with holes, but Frederic could read the fatigue in her pallor. Face pale and eyes clouded, he would hazard that the sum of her life had already been spent down to the very last coin.


    ¡°Kid, this is a battle, not a duel,¡± she snorted. ¡°What¡¯s more, neither of us carry blades.¡±


    ¡°We could call for the guard. They are certain to have swords.¡±


    ¡°Are you a fool? You think I¡¯m gonna twiddle my thumbs and wait while I bleed out?¡±


    I¡¯ve been a fool for the full span of my years.


    ¡°It would be an honourable way to have my life cut short.¡±


    ¡°There is no honour when fighting Evil. Only bitter tears and bleeding.¡±


    Laurence de Montfort took one step towards him.


    ¡°I dream of banners fluttering in the wind,¡± Frederick whispered softly. ¡°Of men marching north and waging war against the darkness that resides there.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you could have lived if things had played out another way, but the votes were cast. Yours was no exception. All of you need to die for this place to finally be cleaned.¡±


    The distance between them halved.


    Frederic¡¯s heart thumped, his fingers twitched. He tried to raise his palms in defence. His reactions were too slow.


    The space between them halved once again.


    There was a flash, then a blade of Light sprouted through her chest from behind.


    Laurence de Montfort gasped.


    ¡°Make the best of my sacrifice, kid,¡± she gurgled.


    The weary figure of the Aspirant was visible behind the corpse. She stood stiff with her right hand clenched around a dagger made of light, her left grasping at air, and said nothing. A harsh corona of light spooled out from her.


    There was a wild, angry look buried deep within her eyes.


    It is not a person that I gaze upon, but a wounded animal that until now had been hidden away deep in its lair. It is prepared to maul us all now that it has been dragged out of the safety of its own home. What does it say about you, Cordelia Hasenbach, that you turned the woman who refused to allow two armies to clash into this angry monster?


    ¡°D-d-don¡¯t let them b-build up the same house again over w-what¡¯s left of my corpse.¡±


    Laurence de Montfort¡¯s last words spilled out as barely the faintest of whispers.


    Her eyes glazed over, then she fell to the floor.


    The Saint of Swords was dead.


    The Prince of Brus focused once more on the other terror in the room.


    There was a fragility to the Aspirant, despite how intimidating she appeared to be.


    ¡°Well?¡± she addressed Cordelia Hasenbach in a defeated tone. ¡°Have anything else to throw at me? I warned you what would happen. Going to blame me for not being fast enough, or for not saving enough people?¡±


    Frederic Goethal looked back and forth between the First Prince and the Hero. The former was an impassive mask, the latter a face stained with anguished lines.


    A face that mirrored the pain he felt.


    I dislike the shape of this.


    The entire of Procer may fall apart should these two women come to blows.


    How can I salvage my home from this wreck?


    Am I even able to?


    <hr>


    My sense of the strings tying me to other locations at last slipped away.


    Laurence de Montfort¡¯s corpse collapsed to the ground in front of me.


    She fell more to fatigue than to anything else.


    I felt both angry and drained. More drained than ever before. It was as if I was a ball of emotions at the bottom of the ocean, pressed down upon from above.


    Killing someone that I¡¯d liked as a person felt so much worse than killing anyone else.


    The Chamber of Assembly was a picture of ruin.


    Twenty-one corpses littered the floor.


    Nineteen princes or their representatives, a horse, and that of my friend.


    At least the Master of Orders and the scribes survived.


    ¡°The fault for this travesty lies with the Chosen alone,¡± Cordelia declared from the other side of Frederic Goethal.


    Funny wording, that. It can imply that it¡¯s my fault, or that it¡¯s Laurence¡¯s. I just had to kill my friend because you weren¡¯t prepared to put aside your national pride. Already plotting, and their bodies haven¡¯t even cooled. Show some tact, Cordelia.


    I glared at her.


    Her blue dress was stained red with blood and gore. She tried to affect a regal air.


    ¡°F-¡± Frederick Goethal tried to speak, but I talked over him. His handsome face became flustered at the interruption.


    ¡°No,¡± I disagreed. ¡°It lies with you. You could¡¯ve passed the motion, then rescinded it later. Claimed it was passed under coercion. I wouldn¡¯t have even fought you on it.¡±


    ¡°Your proposed solution is not an acceptable one. Doing as much would weaken the very foundation of the Principate.¡±


    ¡°Then you could have helped me. You were one of the first people I showed it to, Cordelia. It wasn¡¯t as if you didn¡¯t have the time. You could have amended any faults that you found. Instead, you chose to scheme around me.¡±


    That¡¯s it, isn¡¯t it? That¡¯s what you¡¯re doing.


    I almost laughed at the realization. She was just another in a long line of untrustworthy schemers, wasn¡¯t she? She might have lofty goals, but when it came to deciding between holding power and helping others, the former would always come first.


    ¡°The responsibility for the contents of the proposal you presented towards the Highest Assembly lies squarely at your feet.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s nice,¡± I waved my hand at her dismissively. ¡°I¡¯m sure you can come up with many excuses, but everyone present,¡± I stopped and pointed the glowing blade in my hand at the remaining Princes, ¡°knows the real reason you did nothing. You saw it as an opportunity, a chance to undermine the House of Light.¡±


    ¡°Your argument has ventured into the realm of pure speculation and in the absence of proper evidence has no foundation in reality.¡±


    I read your offhand criticisms of the House of Light written as commentary within your solutions to my problems back in Brus. You¡¯re not fooling anyone with that lie, Cordelia.


    ¡°Nobody here believes you.¡±


    ¡°Your proposal to allow the Chosen the right to judge, try, or execute members of the Highest Assembly was turned down only mere moments ago. If you wish to level an accusation against any members of the Highest Assembly, then you may follow the correct procedures.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t see people as people, you see them as tools, Cordelia Hasenbach. You took the ideas I brought forward and dismissed any that couldn¡¯t fit your existing vision, then kept all the rest. Then one day the tool showed political aspirations and well, we can¡¯t have that, can we? So you decided to let me sink instead of shoring up the gaps in my idea, never mind the fact that I came to you for help beforehand.¡±


    ¡°I warned you before the motion was presented that none would vote in support of it.¡±


    ¡°And you did little else. You didn¡¯t propose amendments. You didn¡¯t suggest ways to fix it. I went to people with the right skills for help, and none of them were willing to give my ideas the time of day. So I stopped and thought and decided to try anyhow. After all, isn¡¯t it better to try and fail then not try at all? I was even prepared to accept failure, so long as I tried in the first place. No, the reason this played out the way it did is because it was politically convenient to you.¡±


    ¡°For-¡± Cordelia Hasenbach ignored the Prince of Brus as well.


    ¡°You are allowing rampant paranoia to shape your own perceptions. Alienating the House of Light would serve as a poor beginning to my reign as First Prince.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but you weren¡¯t going to alienate us, were you? Simply allow the Aspirant to present a motion before the Highest Assembly that you knew that nobody would accept, then submit your own solution later. Your influence waxes, ours wanes. Then you¡¯ve probably got some other plan to remove our power and claim our lands as well. If Laurence de Montfort hadn¡¯t stuck her blade into the room, then your plot probably would have proceeded as planned.¡±


    That¡¯s not just it, either.


    The clanking of metal boots heralded the arrival of the guards outside the chamber. They took one look inside, paled.


    ¡°The session has not yet ended,¡± Cordelia Hasenbach declared, glancing their way. ¡°We are finishing the closing statements.¡±


    The guards withdrew from the room.


    ¡°Just because I¡¯m not politically clever doesn¡¯t mean that I¡¯m stupid, Cordelia. I tried to do things your way. I looked up your laws, drafted a proposal, showed it to the people who I thought could offer advice and listened when it was given. There was a lot I probably could¡¯ve done better, I acknowledge as much, but not for a lack of trying. You were one of the first people I showed it to, and you let things play out.¡±


    ¡°It does not take much in the way of political acumen to determine that a proposal allowing Chosen the right to determine high justice undermines legal institutions, grants heroes immunity from accountability and makes a mockery of our culture will fail to pass. Furthermore, the assertion of the inherent righteousness of the Chosen assigns them a degree of moral absolutism which has no foundation in reality.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t deflect or change the topic. This isn¡¯t about the contents of the proposal. This is about the fact that it made it this far to begin with.¡±


    ¡°Rampant distrust of your own allies only makes for fair-weather friends.¡±


    ¡°That distrust is earned,¡± I hissed. ¡°It¡¯s earned because things like this keep happening to me. You don¡¯t need control over everything, Cordelia. You could have argued with me about this in some hidden room and convinced me of some other plan.¡±


    ¡°I am not the one who attempted to set herself up as a reigning monarch over the Principate of Procer.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re doing exactly that. You do it with proposals, and schemes, and clever manipulations, but you do it all the same.¡±


    ¡°I have not set myself up as a tyrant. All the actions I have taken on behalf of defending the Principate have been through entirely legal means.¡±


    ¡°It is legal to allow the plans made by unskilled politicians that were drafted in an effort to save your own nation to proceed so that you have an excuse to weaken their authority,¡± I agreed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make it less of an ugly thing to do.¡±


    ¡°It is your proposal and not your allegations into my motives that we are here to examine.¡±


    ¡°You know, I¡¯m tired of you saying that.¡± I held up the blade in my hand. ¡°The way I see it, you gave up those rights when this happened,¡± I argued, gesturing towards the corpses. ¡°This isn¡¯t the Highest Assembly any more, it¡¯s a battlefield. Your pretty rules have long since gone out the hole in the ceiling.¡±


    And between the two of us I have far more experience on a battlefield, Cordelia.


    ¡°Your failure to acknowledge our present circumstances does little to bolster the weight of your argument. Even battlefields have rules of engagement.¡±


    ¡°You seized power by marching an army down south and forced people to vote for you.¡±


    ¡°It was a civil war.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not even denying that, but if your country¡¯s version of electing a leader is putting whoever has the most capable army in charge of the nation, then you have no grounds to judge me for bringing a motion before the Highest Assembly. Only one of us actually attempted diplomacy.¡±


    ¡°War is what happens when diplomacy fails. My armies adhered to all Proceran terms of engagement, and it was the Chosen ¡ª not the princes ¡ª who violated the sanctity of the Highest Assembly.¡±


    She keeps bringing up the fact that she sticks to the law, as if that really matters when she¡¯s using the law to hurt people.


    ¡°You don¡¯t get it. You can do plenty of evil without ever stepping across the law. Being good means holding to the spirit, not the letter of the law. It means doing what is right because it is right, not just seeing the law as a means to an end.¡±


    ¡°If you hold the law in such contempt, then why did you bring your proposal before us?¡±


    ¡°It was an attempt to fix what is broken. To make the laws better serve the people under them. I¡¯m not saying that all laws are bad. If I was, I wouldn¡¯t have started by trying to fix them. I¡¯m saying that the current system doesn¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°Was it not you who claimed that I dream of securing a future for my nation?¡± she raised an eyebrow at me.


    Don¡¯t kill her.


    It was hard. I was angry. There were so many unnecessary deaths that could have been avoided if she had been willing to work with me instead of against me.


    ¡°Twenty people lie dead because you weren¡¯t willing to bend your neck.¡±


    ¡°Forgi-¡± the Prince of Brus tried to interject once more.


    ¡°And all but one of them died performing their duty.¡±


    I glanced at the remaining people in the room. Princess Clotilde looked queasy, Princess Mathilda¡¯s face was an impassive mask.


    Nobody else dared to speak.


    ¡°Duty. Duty. Duty.¡± I spat the word out. ¡°Does duty keep you warm at night? Does duty matter more than the many lives that will be lost as a consequence of this?¡±


    ¡°Their lives were forfeit regardless of whether the motion you presented before the Highest Assembly passed or failed. Better that their sacrifice achieved something of worth, than for it to go to waste.¡±


    I let out a strangled laugh.


    ¡°Forgive-¡± The Prince of Brus¡¯s face had started to go red.


    ¡°That implies there were only two possible outcomes, which is a lie.¡±


    ¡°The only path on which they lived was the one where Laurence de Montfort chose not to draw her blade.¡±


    ¡°That is because of the flaws of your own culture ¡ª which can and should be challenged ¡ª not out of any necessity.¡±


    ¡°This disaster should have served as enough of a lesson to convince you of the foolishness of attempting rapid cultural reforms.¡±


    I¡¯m so tired of this. It¡¯s only the presence of the Angels that¡¯s preventing me from killing you.


    My shoulders loosened and my anger uncoiled. Out of everyone in the room, why should she have survived? She wasn¡¯t a better person than any of the others, she was only better at playing the same rotten game as them.


    Fuck it. I¡¯m tired of keeping this to myself. Bottling in how I feel about people who deserve to be six feet under.


    ¡°I am only one short step away from killing you, Cordelia Hasenbach.¡±


    I knew it was the wrong thing to say before I even said it, but at the moment it did make me feel better. I needed everything I could latch onto to help me keep my restraint, even if it looked bad on the formal record.


    Frederic Goethal blanched of colour.


    ¡°Not only would you would prove yourself to be a hypocrite once more ¡ª should you choose to do so ¡ª but everyone would rise against you.¡± Cordelia warned.


    I doubt that, Cordelia. I doubt that very much.


    Her face was an impassive mask.


    ¡°Procer is a nation of morally bankrupt schemers. You¡¯ve proven multiple times that people mean nothing to you. You do nothing to address emerging threats, rely heavily on political manipulation to the point it eliminates the possibility of uniting as a people, are blind to your own failures and are resistant to change in the face of catastrophe. Even your claim of being a bastion of good is just a thin layer of paint smeared over a steaming pile of manure.¡± I smiled an ugly smile at Cordelia. ¡°Do you want to know why I have not?¡±


    ¡°You have not because we are the most powerful Good aligned surface nation on Calernia and you cannot afford to alienate us,¡± she replied.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong. I haven¡¯t, because it¡¯s the right thing to do. I haven¡¯t, because there are Angels reminding me that we can do better than this. I haven¡¯t, despite the fact that there is a story from my old home that tells the tale of two villains ¡ª a snake and a spider ¡ª feuding with each other. The snake has a pet prophet,¡± I looked at Cordelia meaningfully, ¡°but the spider still wins at the end.¡±


    ¡°It should have been evident from my frank dismissal of your initial proposal that the matter should have been tabled and another should have been recruited to further your political ambitions.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right. Perhaps I should have.¡±


    ¡°Then why did you bring this disaster of a proposal into the Highest Assembly?¡±


    ¡°The only people who were willing to work with me were the ones under my command. Many of them just don¡¯t offer advice that challenges my perspective, or the advice they offer me is bad. They¡¯ll try to make my idea work, not offer alternatives. That leaves us here. With me being told that my solution isn¡¯t good enough, but no counterproposal being suggested.¡±


    ¡°It would be wiser for you to leave a system that you do not understand alone, than make changes to it while blind to the consequences.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather try and fail, then leave things as they are. All of you are willing to just let things fall apart. You look around at your nation and go, ¡®well, it¡¯s always been that way, so best we don¡¯t change anything.¡¯ Not me. I¡¯ve quite literally lived through the apocalypse before, and I¡¯m not about to start letting one happen again.¡±


    ¡°The many proposals that I drafted for your own review ¡ª some of which have already been submitted to the Highest Assembly ¡ª stand in stark opposition to your accusations of stasis.¡±


    ¡°I thought as much as first, but I¡¯d bet the only proposals you have passed are those that help you consolidate your own hold on power.¡±


    ¡°I passed a motion to curtail Praesi efforts to undermine our economy through the use of third party funding, as well as a ban on trade of certain goods with Callow. Neither of which have increased my popularity with the other nobles or have anything to do with my own political position, and instead help stabilize Procer itself.¡±


    ¡°But the idea of holding the nobility accountable is repugnant to you.¡±


    ¡°The idea of one day having to appeal to a child without any political schooling when determining how to govern this nation is repugnant to all of us. Systems take time to change and should not bend to your whims merely because you were handed down power from the Gods.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t get it, do you? Even the idea of doing good is foreign to you.¡±


    ¡°To be good is to uphold one''s duties and responsibilities, to not flinch in the face of the enemy, to stand in defence of one¡¯s people when Evil encroaches on the borders.¡±


    ¡°All you¡¯ve done is proven my point. People no longer matter when you define good that way, only outcomes do. We aren¡¯t tools to be used, Cordelia. Our value isn¡¯t determined by what we can do for you, or how much you can trade us in for.¡±


    ¡°You are blind to what a nation is. You ignore our collective identity in favour of pursuing this idiocy.¡±


    Red mist rose in the corners of my eyes.


    Why can¡¯t she see that the collective identity of the Principate is poison?


    ¡°Better that the nation dies than the people do.¡±


    Cordelia raised her bloodied palm and pointed her index finger towards me.


    I felt something then. The brush of an ephemeral presence, almost. The imagined sound of dark laughter echoing throughout the shattered room. The illusory touch of a knife sliding down the back of my neck. The last gurgle of corpse, before their final breath runs out.


    Why doesn¡¯t this surprise me, Cordelia? This seems fitting, doesn¡¯t it? You, a villain, after everything else. Just like all the other nobles cowed beneath your boot.


    ¡°FORGIVE ME FOR INTERRUPTING!¡± Frederic Goethal shouted out, his cheeks red and flustered.


    Both of us turned and looked at him.


    My attention returned to Cordelia once more.


    The shadow flickered, then faded away.


    Did she just¡­ refuse the Name?


    ¡°I only need one lifetime to ensure that this folly never sees the light of day,¡± she declared, her chin raised defiantly.


    I blinked.


    Only if you live long enough to do that, Cordelia.


    I¡¯m not convinced that you deserve to.

 Concord 5.16

    ¡°The only acceptable type of sacrifice is the type done by somebody else.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Inimical, the Miser


    <hr>


    ¡°ENOUGH!¡± Frederic shouted.


    ¡°A nation with no people is no nation at all, and that is what we will have if the two of you should come to blows. When the Drow rise up, or the Empire calls or corpses rise out of the waters of our lakes only to breathe down our necks, who will stand with us? Do you believe the Chosen from other lands will flock to our banner after we¡¯ve alienated our own heroes? Will they turn away from us and claim that we are nothing more than another example of Evil fighting amongst itself? We will die standing on our own, because we could not find accord when the call to war was given.¡±


    He turned towards Cordelia Hasenbach.


    ¡°Perhaps you might consider it to be unfair, or beneath you, or unprincipled to compromise with the Aspirant, but you will find a way to make amends to her regardless. I do not claim to know the lay of your thoughts. I cannot judge why you decided not to offer her any advice before she approached the Highest Assembly, but all of us can measure the cost of it. We teeter on the precipice of destruction because the two people wielding the most influence within our nation cannot seem to find common ground.¡±


    He paused, panted, looked between the two of us as if he was appraising two wild animals, before turning his attention towards me.


    ¡°And you might consider it unfair, or beneath you, or unprincipled to compromise with the First Prince, but you will do so as well. Think of all who will perish as a consequence of your feuding. More will suffer and die should the bells toll and the banner of war be raised once more. The only ones who benefit from this conflict are those who do not deserve for us to strengthen them.¡±


    Silence fell over the Chamber of Assembly.


    It was a spirited speech, and in other circumstances I might have paid it more attention.


    But¡­ not now.


    Not while I was furious.


    I need to get out of the room. If I don¡¯t remove myself from this situation, then Cordelia will die. I can¡¯t afford to do that. It would mean admitting that I¡¯m wrong about good being able to achieve anything of worth through honest attempts at communication, and that¡¯s¡­ not a loss I¡¯m willing to take.


    My hands shook from the effort it took not to kill Cordelia.


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡±


    I turned and started walking towards the door.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Frederic shouted once more.


    I didn¡¯t stop walking. I didn¡¯t even slow down.


    ¡°Leaving this chamber would make the Saint of Sword¡¯s death meaningless.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve died twice. Death is always meaningless.¡±


    ¡°Could you truly be satisfied if you gave up on your own vision for the future?¡±


    ¡°If I don¡¯t leave, then I¡¯m going to do something that I think everyone will regret.¡±


    ¡°I believe that you would also regret departing with matters unresolved.¡±


    I stepped around the pulped head of a prince I didn¡¯t recognize. I was almost at the door.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I can stop myself from killing your villainous leader if she opens her mouth again.¡±


    ¡°Would it also offend your sensibilities if Cordelia Hasenbach were to hold her tongue, and you conversed with me instead?¡±


    ¡°Why do you care?¡± I spun to face Frederic Goethal. ¡°You¡¯re fine with throwing away an army of people simply because you were indoctrinated from birth to believe that it¡¯s honourable, with no consideration given to the lives of the soldiers under your command.¡±


    ¡°If the two of you are unable to settle your differences, then the Principate of Procer will fail as a nation,¡± he murmured.


    I glanced at Cordelia. The stone-cold bitch¡¯s lips were pressed into a line. She still showed no sign of emotion, or even a sliver of empathy at the disaster around us.


    ¡°Laurence is right,¡± I clenched my fists. ¡°It¡¯s always failed as a nation. Let it die.¡±


    ¡°Would the Aspirant of yesterday be satisfied with the shape of your thoughts today?¡±


    Fuck it. I¡¯m so tired of all this.


    ¡°The Aspirant of yesterday hadn¡¯t been forced to kill her own friend to protect a group of people she doesn¡¯t even like! The Aspirant of yesterday hadn¡¯t been backstabbed by someone else she considered a friend! The Aspirant of yesterday hadn¡¯t been accused of being a tyrant for trying to hold princes accountable!¡±


    I paused, then glared at Frederic.


    ¡°There are a lot of things that I don¡¯t say. Not because I don¡¯t think them, but because they are utterly terrifying. Things that are so scary that nobody would look at me the same way once I started talking about them. Congratulations, you¡¯ve reached the end of my restraint. You get to hear me rant about all the things that I¡¯d do to you if I was a villain.¡±


    I breathed in, then out.


    ¡°Let¡¯s begin with tyranny. You want to know what tyranny is?¡± I hissed. ¡°Let me tell you what tyranny is. Let me explain the difference between what I did and what a villain might have done. You think Laurence is scary? The worst thing that she could do is kill you. It would be so easy for me to mindfuck you into doing what I want. I could make you run the Principate the way I wanted you to. Worst of all, I could make you like it as well.¡±


    ¡°But wait,¡± I licked my lips, ¡°it gets worse.¡±


    I started to pace to bleed off my fury. It was a distraction, and mostly an ineffective one.


    ¡°See, you¡¯ve got laws against that, as that Ice Queen over there would point out, and well, we can¡¯t have me breaking those, can we? Fortunately, I don¡¯t need to. I just need to ignore the spirit of them the same way that she does. What would happen if I issued a proclamation? One that stated that any time two or more princes engage in war with each other¡­ I would pacify their armies. Simply just¡­ make them unwilling to pick up their weapons and fight. There are no laws against a hero doing something like that during a war, but the result would be the same.¡±


    Cordelia had returned to her seat on the block of granite. I suspected its heart was warmer than hers. Princess Clotilde had gone whiter than the walls. Princess Mathilda had morphed into a vivid shade of green.


    The floor was such a mess that it made it hard to pace. I started to shift the accumulating snow and rubble with panes of Light, then moved it towards the edge of the room. The corpses went to the far left, aligned in rows on the right of the door.


    I deposited Laurence¡¯s corpse on the opposite side. Best to set it apart from the rest.


    ¡°I¡¯d be removing your ability to project force. If I was feeling particularly vindictive, I¡¯d allow them to march their men all the way to the battlefield before I chose to act. All that coin spent arming them, feeding them and getting them to the battlefield all gone up in smoke. How long would it take until no mercenaries were willing to take up a contract with the Principate for fear of losing their livelihood? In less than a year, every single person from one side of Procer to the other would realize that I¡¯m the person in charge. It would have involved no impassioned arguments. No standing before the Highest Assembly. All I would have to do is lower myself to your level.¡±


    It was telling that Cordelia hadn¡¯t threatened to try to rescind the ownership of land belonging to the House of Light when she first saw my proposal. Without having a way to enforce the declaration, it would be completely toothless. I¡¯d already pacified an army once and¡­ well, it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if she considered it likely that I would do it again.


    Why are people like this? I¡¯m just trying to help them.


    My eyes stung again. I hated everything about this.


    It¡¯s feels like I¡¯m sitting here waging a war with an ant, using a grain of sugar as a weapon rather than the heel of my boot.


    ¡°And those two things?¡± I let out a choked laugh, ¡°they don¡¯t even make the list of the top ten scariest tactics that I¡¯ve considered. Think for a moment about what I could have done compared to what I chose to do. I¡¯m tired. Tired of being told to eat shit by slimy assholes who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths. If you¡¯re truly so much better than the people born beneath you, then prove it by looking after them.¡±


    I finished speaking. My anger snuffed out like a fading ember. A hollow lassitude took me. I felt¡­ empty¡­ lost.


    I turned towards one of the empty chairs beside the scribes.


    There was a scraggly girl with long brown hair and mousy features seated beside it.


    She swallowed as I looked at her.


    Walked over.


    Sat down in the empty chair.


    I¡¯m sorry Yvette, Max, everyone else, but¡­ I¡¯m just not good enough. Every time I try to work with these people, it just ends the same way. I can¡¯t keep doing this.


    I wiped away my tears.


    It was no use.


    More continued to fall.


    ¡°If you wished for the motion you proposed to pass, you should have allowed for compromise. Perha-¡±


    That was the wrong thing to say.


    ¡°You have no idea how much I¡¯ve compromised already,¡± I explained, cutting him off. ¡°You know nothing about me, about where I came from, or what my life was like. You have absolutely no right to judge me with what little context you have, and compromise implies that both parties bend their neck. I¡¯ve bent mine a lot already, but you¡¯re expecting the Proceran nobility to get what they want out of me without bending at all in return. I¡¯m not going to stand here with my neck bent and lick dirt off the floor just to make you people happy.¡±


    This is all so pointless.


    ¡°Paint me a picture of the land that you came from,¡± Prince Frederic asked.


    ¡°What?¡± I mumbled, resting my head in my hands.


    ¡°Were heroes the sovereigns there?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see the point. We¡¯re going to go through the same motions all over again. I¡¯ll try to do the right thing. It will fail. I¡¯ll be forced to pick up the pieces. Then all of you will look at me as if I am mad for even trying to do something that isn¡¯t done out of rampant greed.¡±


    ¡°You accused me of approaching dialogue with you without sufficient context. You cannot expect me to establish the context I require without making an effort to amend the gap in my knowledge.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all in a new church book. Besides, I talked to Cordelia about this. It isn¡¯t as if she doesn¡¯t know my story.¡±


    ¡°Consider the fact that most of us have not had the time to read through recently published House of Light literature.¡±


    Fine. Not like this changes anything.


    ¡°Depends on the place. Where I lived, no.¡±


    ¡°Then why did you suggest they should hold power over the Principate?¡±


    ¡°Our society was different. We were closer to the gnomes. According to Cordelia the system of government that we used there wouldn¡¯t work here. I listened to her. I¡¯m not even sure if it worked there, either.¡±


    ¡°Can you shed light on how it functioned in greater detail?¡±


    I looked up. Frederic was looking at me. He had a grin plastered across his face that I thought was supposed to be encouraging, but everything about it looked forced.


    ¡°I was too worried about the end of the world to learn enough about our politics to argue them properly, so don¡¯t expect any meaningful discourse.¡±


    ¡°Sharing what little you know still elucidates more than telling us nothing at all.¡±


    ¡°We were a republic. It was a system with elected leaders. The citizens held the rulers accountable. It didn¡¯t always work, and I don¡¯t know enough to tell you how often it succeeded compared to how often it failed, but it was probably better than the Principate in that regard.¡±


    ¡°What role did heroes play in the leadership of your nation?¡±


    ¡°Heroes were under a separate system with a different set of rules. I could go into a lot of detail there ¡ª I was a part of that system ¡ª but it¡¯s not currently relevant to this discussion. They couldn¡¯t legally interfere with the actual running of the country, and¡­ too much was different for us to make any meaningful comparisons between here and there.¡±


    ¡°What punitive measures were taken against criminals?¡±


    ¡°It depended on the crime, but punishments were almost always much laxer than here. Some people killed thousands and didn¡¯t die for it.¡± I pursed my lips. ¡°It wasn¡¯t perfect. There were many punishments I wouldn¡¯t have agreed to in retrospect. People forced to spend life locked away in¡­ awful circumstances rather than be executed. I¡¯d still argue it was better than the many creative tortures that Procer pretends serve as a meaningful justice system.¡±


    ¡°How long have you spent living in Procer?¡±


    ¡°Give or take eight months. About a year if you count the time shortly after I arrived.¡±


    ¡°Were you considered well-educated in the land that you came from?¡±


    ¡°No. The world was ending, and I was more focused on saving it than on acquiring an education. Most of the skills that I learned had combat applications. Most of the more academic knowledge that I have isn¡¯t going to help me here either.¡± I gave Frederic a sour smile. ¡°You don¡¯t even know what a ¡®computer¡¯ is, so telling you about ¡®programming¡¯ doesn¡¯t help. The languages do not carry over at all, the geography of Calernia is completely different, and I never learned political science.¡±


    ¡°Do you know offhand what was the total population of your birth nation?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t give you a good estimate because it varied wildly due to refugee migrations coupled with frequent catastrophic disasters, but¡­ somewhere north of two hundred million people before the end.¡±


    Prince Frederic continued questioning me for a while, before eventually stopping in thought.


    A tranquil silence fell within the Chamber of Assembly. It stood in stark juxtaposition to the state of the room.


    ¡°Would you have accepted Pascal having the right to determine whether you live or die?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then why did you campaign so hard to give him that right over others?¡±


    ¡°I knew that my solution wasn¡¯t good, but I couldn¡¯t come up with a better one.¡±


    My shoulders relaxed as he continued to inquire after my motives. I was still angry and despondent, but not longer so tightly coiled that I would explode at a moment¡¯s notice.


    ¡°Can you explain what you would be prepared to accept?¡±


    ¡°Anything that can hold the leaders of Procer accountable in practice. Poison doesn¡¯t count. There is no difference between a peasant poisoning a prince and one of their family members doing it, but only the peasant is punished for it. You cannot expect peasants and heroes to follow the laws, but nobles to be exempt from them.¡±


    That¡¯s not how a functional justice system works.


    ¡°Would you be prepared to accept the passing of a proposal with a similar intended function that does not grant the authority to the Chosen?¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯ve moved past that argument,¡± I answered. ¡°This is about trust.¡±


    ¡°Humour my inquiry,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Yes. The problem is that I don¡¯t see it working.¡±


    ¡°Can you expound upon how you arrived at that conclusion?¡±


    ¡°The system of governance for individual principalities is autocratic and in practice comes down to who has the largest army.¡±


    ¡°The laws of our nation allow for the princes to be overthrown should the peasants find their rulers unlawful.¡±


    ¡°The peasants can¡¯t hold the princes accountable because they don¡¯t have a big enough stick to hit them with.¡±


    ¡°The rebellion in Aisne provides ample evidence that this is not the case.¡±


    ¡°That was an outlier. Everyone in the Principate knows as much. I tried to respect your customs. That¡¯s why I proposed heroes being the stick as opposed to changing your entire system of governance. I didn¡¯t suggest heroes were the enforcers because I need it to be heroes, I suggested heroes because I couldn¡¯t think of a more palatable alternative that actually works.¡± I took a moment to brush falling snow off my lap.


    ¡°You are already aware about our thoughts on your original proposal.¡±


    ¡°The system of governance in my nation of birth had systems to both judge and depose rulers ¡ª or even lesser representatives ¡ª and the people within those systems were not by default the rulers themselves. Just because somebody can legally kill the Prince, doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re the Prince. It means they¡¯re the person who can kill Princes.¡±


    Unless I¡¯m in Praes, but that¡¯s neither here nor there.


    I looked at the hole in the ceiling once more, before turning my attention back to Frederic.


    ¡°Look, that line of argumentation is going nowhere, so let¡¯s put it aside. I know that it feels like I¡¯m putting a knife to your neck. That¡¯s the whole point! Rulers shouldn¡¯t have a sense of absolute security. I include myself in that. You want to pass laws against what I can and can¡¯t do? Go ahead!¡±


    ¡°What prevents heroes from abusing this right in order to coerce rulers to accede to their demands?¡±


    ¡°What prevents us from doing that already?¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°If you want a more considered answer, then look at how this ended. Two heroes lie dead so far. Both of them were killed by me. One of them was my friend. That should be proof enough. I¡¯ve done my part. It would have been within my rights to stand aside and do nothing. I¡¯m willing to hold heroes to account. What other show of good faith could you possibly want?¡±


    And none of this really matters, since this is about trust, not about my proposal. My proposal failed, I¡¯m fine with that. Now it¡¯s time to salvage the mess. What I¡¯m not fine with is working with Cordelia Hasenbach after she knifed me in the back.


    Frederic turned away from me and faced the Master of Orders. The man had moved out of the centre of the Chamber of Assembly and was seated among the scribes. His face was haggard. It looked as if he had aged a decade in the span of an hour.


    ¡°I request leave to address the First Prince.¡±


    He gave Prince Frederic a frosty glare, but nonetheless limped to the middle of the room.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Brus.¡±


    Prince Frederic turned away from me and back towards Cordelia.


    ¡°It is not my place to make demands of the First Prince of Procer. The time for petitions is also over, so consider this more of an informal petition made during the closing statements. I hold that you should draft a proposal that satisfies both the letter and the spirit of the Aspirant¡¯s requirements, and present it before the Highest Assembly. One that takes into consideration the foibles of our nation. Failure to do so at this juncture will see us splinter as a nation, and we cannot afford to do so.¡±


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.¡±


    The bloodstained Princess climbed to her feet.


    ¡°Drafting such a proposal would set the precedent that the First Prince is expected to appease the whims of the Chosen.¡±


    ¡°Appeasing her is necessary for the survival of our nation.¡±


    I signalled the Master of Orders.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Aspirant.¡±


    ¡°Frederic, I know that you¡¯re trying to help, but you¡¯re missing the point. I don¡¯t want to be appeased, I want a solid reason why I should consider working with Cordelia Hasenbach, or with you for that matter.¡±


    He blinked at that, then shook his head.


    ¡°What have I done to earn such distrust from you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about what you¡¯ve done, it¡¯s about what everyone else in my life keeps doing.¡±


    ¡°Would you be prepared to trust that I¡¯m acting in your best interest.¡±


    ¡°No. Your brother tried to rape me. Your father shielded him from justice. Prince Arnaud was probably a rapist, although he¡¯s dead, so it¡¯s not like we can try him for it. Cordelia stabbed me in the back. My trust of the Proceran nobility is at an all-time low, and that¡¯s saying something considering how low it was to begin with.¡±


    ¡°Then I shall endeavour to prove to you that not all the Princes of our nation are rotten at the heart.¡±


    ¡°Good luck with that.¡±


    Prince Frederic gave me a pitying look, then turned towards Cordelia Hasenbach.


    ¡°Did the Aspirant truly come to you for assistance, only for you to spurn her request?¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia,¡± the white haired geriatric announced.


    Cordelia climbed to her feet.


    ¡°While the Aspirant did present her proposals to the Prince of Rhenia, she made no requests for further amendments and threatened to bring an end to the Principate should she not achieve her goals.¡± Cordelia drawled.


    She almost sounded bored.


    Why doesn¡¯t it surprise me that Cordelia Hasenbach misrepresented what I said?


    Cordelia sat back down.


    I signalled that I desired to speak. The pretence at order was flimsy, but I would not be the one to break it.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Aspirant.¡±


    ¡°I told her that time claims everything, even nations. That isn¡¯t a threat, just an acknowledgement of reality,¡± I snapped.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Brus.¡±


    ¡°Did you make any further appeals to the First Prince for assistance beyond that initial meeting, or attempt to clarify your position?¡± Frederic asked me.


    ¡°No. I was exceptionally busy at the time, and I¡¯d suspected that she would be as well, given that she ran an entire nation rather than merely the House of Light. My decision not to bother her was made as a courtesy. I thought of her as either a friend ¡ª or amicable colleague ¡ª and expected her to bring any major concerns to my attention in advance rather than to plot around me, considering the proposal intersected with both of our interests.¡±


    ¡°Did you ever make a direct request of her or anyone else to assist you in reviewing the proposal?¡±


    ¡°I asked my advisors more than once. They focused their attention on amending the legal details of the proposal to make it function in its current form, rather than changing it into something else,¡± I furrowed my brow. ¡°I never outright requested that Cordelia assisted me with my proposal in this specific instance when I presented it to her.¡±


    ¡°Do you believe that it was possible she misunderstood the nature of your request?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I injected the word with some of the venom I felt. ¡°Cordelia is smart. Politically savvy and good at reading people. There were excellent reasons for me to believe that she would understand me, given that we have collaborated many times in the past and had an established rapport.¡±


    ¡°Can you elaborate as to why you hold this to be true?¡±


    ¡°I''ve run my proposals by her many times before. It was the foundation of our relationship to begin with. This is the first time that she supposedly misunderstood my intent. It¡¯s also conveniently the first time when there are any real stakes to misunderstanding me.¡±


    It also looks like she¡¯s the one who benefitted the most from all of this. Most of her rivals are dead, and she can pass whatever motions she likes until they¡¯re replaced. Did the Augur help you achieve this, Cordelia? Is this your answer to my question about whether you intend to be a tyrant?


    Frederic stilled for a moment. He turned his gaze to the sky and watched as clouds passed above. Then he shook his head. Golden rings of hair danced from side to side as he seemed to search for his resolve.


    ¡°Are you done?¡± I ground my teeth. ¡°Have my answers satisfied you?¡±


    ¡°You do not lie, do you?¡± he whispered under his breath.


    It sounded less like a question and more like him musing to himself. It felt as if he was ascribing more meaning to the idea than I would be comfortable with. I chose to answer it as a question as a result.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t sworn an oath not to.¡±


    ¡°That is a very circumspect way of not denying my supposition.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t lied knowingly in a long time, but I did in the past.¡± I confirmed.


    ¡°Even when being truthful is to your detriment?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    His shoulders settled. It felt as if he had made a choice, but I wasn¡¯t certain of what it was.


    The Prince of Brus said nothing more. Instead, he paced in thought.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Princess of Aisne.¡±


    ¡°The Principate is weakened after twenty years of bloodshed.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Should the House of Light refuse to share bread with the First Prince, you would risk igniting a Liturgical War.¡±


    ¡°She was the one who broke confidence. I had every intention of working with her.¡±


    ¡°Conflict between the House of Light and the First Prince will only exacerbate the existing problems.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps she should have considered that before she tried to stab me in the back.¡±


    ¡°You would allow strife to run unchecked merely to accommodate your own ego?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about my own ego, it¡¯s about trust. Why should I trust her not to repeat her betrayal? How do I know that the next time the Highest Assembly convenes, we won¡¯t be looking at another stack of bodies?¡±


    ¡°The Highest Assembly serves to check the power of the First Prince.¡±


    ¡°Why would any of you do that? She¡¯s got every reason to provide you with incentives to undercut the House of Light. It¡¯s in your best interest to work with her against me.¡±


    Princess Clotilde quietened for a moment.


    ¡°What do you believe the Principled decision would be to make? By setting yourself against the First Prince, you risk fracturing the nation of Procer.¡±


    ¡°The First Prince cannot afford to antagonize the House of Light on top of whatever disaster is about to unfold. We will not incite any hostilities, so long as we are not provoked and are prepared to open our doors to all, regardless of nationality. This remains true even now.¡±


    ¡°I inquired as to why it¡¯s principled, not why you believe that it is a decision that you can afford to make by capitalizing on chaos.¡±


    ¡°What was principled about betraying my confidence?¡±


    ¡°You are right. It is not fair, or just, or principled, but only one of us is blessed by the heavens, and it isn¡¯t Cordelia Hasenbach.¡±


    ¡°Why her? There is nothing stopping me from working with somebody else, should they take the throne.¡±


    ¡°We cannot afford another succession war right on the back of the last one.¡±


    ¡°She almost earned a villainous Name,¡± I hissed. ¡°Perhaps Procer would be better off if it fell apart than if it was under her thumb. Tell me why I shouldn¡¯t just march outside this room and declare the House of Light unwilling to recognize a villainous First Prince.¡±


    ¡°Consider the tools you have at your disposal,¡± she stated quietly. ¡°The House of Light could see Cordelia Hasenbach declared Arch-Heretic of the West if she truly slid into villainy. That alone is sufficient motive for her to avoid earning your ire.¡±


    Princess Clotilde returned to her seat.


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Princess of Neustria,¡± the Master of Orders called out.


    Princess Mathilda rose to her feet next.


    There was a rustle of mail as she walked into the middle of the room.


    She turned towards me.


    ¡°Look, I belong on a battlefield, not inside the highest assembly-¡±


    Great, she¡¯s about as useful in this room as me, then.


    She put up a brave front, but I could hear the tremor in her voice.


    ¡°¡ª but even I know how ugly this could get. What happens if you,¡± she pointed her thumb at me, ¡°actually follow through with that idea of Princess Clotilde¡¯s? The House of Light won¡¯t splinter over that. They¡¯ll see it as a chance to pull down the throne. Between that and all the other succession wars that are likely to occur, and¡­ there won¡¯t be a Principate by the end of the next year.¡± Her voice was gruff and she spoke fast.


    It was as if she was pushing out her words as fast as she could.


    ¡°I¡¯m not seeing a reason why I should trust her.¡±


    Princess Mathilda gulped.


    ¡°Come on, you¡¯re smarter than this. It doesn¡¯t matter what the First Prince wants, you¡¯ve made yourself into one of the keys to holding the nation. The deaths aren¡¯t the fault of either of you, but now they¡¯ve happened. She needs your approval if she wants to have any hope of staying in power at all.¡±


    ¡°The problem,¡± I replied, ¡°is that there are very few threats that I am prepared to carry through. She knows that. She¡¯s already shown that she¡¯s prepared to exploit that.¡±


    It feels like I¡¯m in an unbalanced relationship where everyone I¡¯m trying to help is the abuser, even though in every real sense they have less power than I do.


    Princess Mathilda relaxed.


    I felt a laugh of hysteria well up inside of me.


    It only took those words for her to realize there¡¯s very little I can do to her that I¡¯d be willing to accept, so long as she doesn¡¯t actually do something morally reprehensible.


    ¡°Look, I like you, Taylor. You did right by us in the swamp, but sometimes you need someone to make hard decisions.¡±


    It¡¯s so tempting to just show every person in this room my memories of Cordelia Hasebach watching over a billion people die and not responding at all. Let them see the stone-cold bitch that she is and drag her reputation through the mud. But¡­ there is no going back if I do that. Might as well just kill her if I¡¯m going that far in an effort to tear away her pretty mask.


    ¡°Cordelia Hasenbach would sacrifice the lives of everyone in Salia on an altar with a smile on her face, so long as it helped further her own ambitions. That isn¡¯t the type of person who should be deciding the lives of the people of Procer,¡± I glared.


    ¡°She¡¯s the head of this nation, you¡¯re the heart of it. Let the head concern itself with the thinking, worry about the things that you¡¯re actually good at.¡±


    Wow, that is one insulting metaphor.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired of having people tell me that because they¡¯re more educated than everyone else, that they should be in charge.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t make it less true.¡±


    ¡°That same argument was used by people in the world that I came from to oppress others. To take them, and lock them up in camps, and treat them as worse than slaves. Education makes somebody capable of ruling, it does not make them the right person to rule.¡±


    ¡°This is Procer, not Praes.¡±


    ¡°How about the old prince of Valencis? He did plenty.¡± I raised a brow at Prince Mathilda.


    ¡°I know you investigated Cordelia¡¯s principality. Did it strike you as being that way? Nothing she¡¯s done suggest she¡¯d do anything like that.¡±


    ¡°Nothing I¡¯ve seen about Cordelia Hasenbach convinces me that she would not do the same if it furthered her own ends, either.¡±


    I¡¯ve seen enough to support the possibility of it.


    ¡°If it weren¡¯t for Cordelia Hasenbach, then the Proceran Civil War would still be dragging on.¡±


    ¡°She did that to further her own political ambitions and out of a toxic sense of national pride, not because she cares about whoever lives or dies.¡±


    ¡°Then why did she insist on her soldiers sticking to terms of engagement?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I raised my hands to the ceiling. ¡°Probably because it would help solidify her rule. If she upset the peasants, then they¡¯d be happy to see her gone.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter why she did it. The war is over.¡±


    It¡¯s so, so tempting to air Cordelia¡¯s dirty laundry, much like she flung mud in my direction. To talk about her plans to start a crusade and sacrifice thousands on the altar of her own political ambitions. But no, one of us needs to have a moral backbone rather than a pragmatic backbone Cordelia, and it isn¡¯t the woman on the throne.


    ¡°Would you approve if Procer started a war with its neighbours for the express purpose of population control?¡±


    ¡°Depends on the circumstances.¡±


    ¡°You think it¡¯s fine to just kill people off?¡±


    What is wrong with you people?


    ¡°Sometimes the village has to be burned down in order to save the citizens,¡± she shrugged.


    What is the context of this metaphor? Perhaps disaster avoidance? Force people to move out of a disaster area by burning down their homes. Could work, but it¡¯s not the same as killing inconvenient people.


    ¡°Burning down buildings to force relocation is not the same as killing your own people because the numbers on the population census are a little too high. The former is a tragedy, but still understandable. The latter is the kind of thing Praes does. Cordelia¡¯s politics are inconvenient to my own, and you don¡¯t see me killing her because of that.¡±


    Not yet, at least. I¡¯m so, so very close to it.


    ¡°Wars happen, people die,¡± she stated, before flinching.


    It had the rote repetition of a proverb. Some kind of saying that she said out of force of habit.


    ¡°Tell that to your own soldiers,¡± I retorted.


    ¡°I do whenever I send them north.¡±


    ¡°This is what¡¯s wrong with the Lycaonese. You¡¯ve spent so long just doing things to survive that you¡¯ve stopped seeing the tragedy in being forced to do so.¡±


    ¡°What we do isn¡¯t pretty, but it¡¯s still necessary.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I shook my head. ¡°There is nothing necessary about idolizing sacrifice.¡±


    Princess Mathilda¡¯s eyes hardened.


    ¡°What have you ever had to sacrifice for the safety of others? You can just walk in front of an army and tell them to stop fighting.¡±


    My fists clenched. My jaw stiffened. My eyes narrowed.


    Breathe, Taylor. Don¡¯t do something you¡¯ll regret.


    It was monstrously difficult to retain my cool.


    You could stack the corpses of every man, woman, and child from the birth of your nation until the present day into a single pile. That pile would still number less than the number of deaths I¡¯ve personally witnessed over the span of a single day.


    ¡°Don¡¯t belittle the suffering of others just because you¡¯re still suffering yourself.¡±


    ¡°Tell that to our people when you¡¯re not the one standing on the wall.¡±


    ¡°I went north. Fought against the Ratlings.¡±


    ¡°And you still think our measures aren¡¯t necessary?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it''s necessary to idolize sacrifice. To indoctrinate children into believing that it¡¯s good. Just because ugly things happen, doesn¡¯t mean you should put them on a pedestal.¡±


    Princess Mathilda shook her head, then walked over to her seat and eased herself into the throne.


    I stood up.


    What happens next?


    I was tired of being told to work with somebody who had every reason to backstab me a second time.


    What should I do?


    I looked towards Laurence¡¯s corpse beside the door. That¡­ I could do that.


    I¡¯ll bury her, then start dealing with the fallout.


    Step.


    Step.


    Step.


    A hand fell on my shoulder.


    ¡°Would you regret it on the morrow if you cut ties with Cordelia Hasenbach today?¡± Frederic Goethal said quietly.


    Something about the words struck at me.


    I came to a halt.


    Would I be happy about this? No¡­ It feels like I¡¯m giving up. Like I¡¯m backing down from a fight and letting things burn just because it''s fought with weapons that I¡¯m not skilled at using. No, it¡¯s not just that. There¡¯s also the fear. The fear that I¡¯ll snap and resort to force. It¡¯s so hard. I know that I¡¯m emotionally compromised. That even if I could argue well, I wouldn¡¯t be making good arguments.


    My hands shook.


    ¡°It would be wiser if I backed away,¡± I told the Prince of Brus.


    ¡°Can you afford to leave this wound to fester?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ no. It will only become worse over time.¡±


    ¡°Then you should take this opportunity to finish addressing the First Prince.¡±


    ¡°What am I supposed to say?¡± tears leaked from my eyes. ¡°My friend is dead, and I¡¯m not thinking straight. I can¡¯t argue my own position. I know that I can¡¯t, but I need to do it regardless.¡±


    ¡°You do not need to argue your own position,¡± Frederic replied.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like anyone else will.¡±


    ¡°I would not be so sure of that.¡± He almost sounded amused. ¡°Why don¡¯t you try asking the others who sit on the Highest Assembly? Make sure you ask them to amend your initial proposal, even if it is no longer why you are here.¡±


    Prince Frederic returned to his throne.


    I doubt the three remaining members are going to argue my case, but¡­ there¡¯s no point in not giving it a try. It isn¡¯t worse than the alternative. In theory, they have the power to pressure the First Prince. Not that I wouldn¡¯t be surprised to learn that that was a lie as well.


    The marble floor echoed as I marched back into the middle of the room.


    ¡°You forfeited the right to petition the Highest Assembly when you moved to exit the Chamber of Assembly,¡± the Master of Orders declared.


    The only reason you have a job is that Cordelia needed a stooge to rule in her favour.


    ¡°I¡¯m tired, drained and don¡¯t care to argue about this.¡±


    ¡°This irregularity will be marked on the record.¡±


    Kiss her ass some more. Maybe it will buy you entry into a nicer hell.


    ¡°You are deliberately misrepresenting the regulations that govern the Highest Assembly,¡± I replied.


    I might be politically illiterate, but I read a book on the Chamber of Assembly proceedings just to ensure that I didn¡¯t mess up my courtesies before I presented this motion, and I¡¯m literally incapable of forgetting the words. All proceedings within the Highest Assembly are considered to be emergency sessions when over two thirds of the sitting members of the Highest Assembly have perished. They have different regulations for closing statements. Regulations that were passed after the Seventh Crusade and which do not call for the session to come to an end. Technically, this session does not close until all who remain seated vote on it.


    ¡°The closing statements have been given and-¡±


    ¡°Cordelia Hasenbach doesn¡¯t need to resort to this kind of procedural nonsense to beat me in an argument. So. Just. Stop.¡±


    ¡°The assembly recognizes the Prince of Rhenia.¡±


    ¡°I recommend that you depart from the Chamber of Assembly. This blatant attempt at arrogation of power by the Chosen will not be tolerated.¡±


    What are you going to do about it then? It¡¯s not like you can kick me out. It wouldn¡¯t even be legal to. I¡¯m at my wits end and I have nothing to lose. You called my bluff, now I¡¯m calling yours.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to talk to you,¡± I turned away from her, ¡°I¡¯m here to talk to them.¡±


    ¡°There are several matters of import ¡ª including the potential collapse of the Principate ¡ª which need to be addressed. Your tantrum on the floor of the Highest Assembly is putting them on hold.¡±


    I ignored her. It was best not to engage her in an argument while I was still feeling so raw. Actually, it was best not to talk to her at all.


    Princess Clotilde and Princess Mathilda looked at me from their thrones, then at Cordelia, then to the corpses piled at the door, then to me again.


    Both of them paled.


    Prince Frederic had the hint of a smile on his face and a twinkle in the corner of his eyes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have much to say.¡± I spoke quietly. ¡°You¡¯ve all read my proposals, and you¡¯ve also heard the reasoning behind them. Prince Frederic suggested that I give this a second try, so¡­¡± I ignored Cordelia and addressed the remainder of the room. ¡°You know what I want. I don¡¯t want to be in charge, I just want something that will work. You¡¯ve heard about the trouble that I¡¯m trying to prevent. I¡¯m asking you to help me, because I can¡¯t do this on my own.¡±


    I sighed, shrugged my shoulders, then continued.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have anything to bargain with. I can¡¯t promise you a prize for this. You only have my word that it¡¯s the right thing to do. Help me fix this mess of a proposal, and¡­ give me a reason to work with the First Prince instead of doing something that I regret because I do not trust a single word that comes out of her lying mouth.¡±


    The Chamber of Assembly was so silent you could hear a pin drop.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Princess Mathilda¡¯s voice called out. ¡°I called you the heart of the nation, remember? See, you¡¯re forgetting something important. Just because the heart doesn¡¯t think, doesn¡¯t make it any less important than the head is.¡± Her voice hardened, ¡°None of us can afford for the two of you to fight, so I¡¯ll do my best to pull you through this swamp.¡±


    The Princess of Aisne rose next.


    ¡°While you have presented no proof to support your allegations¡­ If I am to choose between believing your word or the word of the First Prince, then I know where it is that I stand. You carried me out of the fire that was consuming my city. It is only fitting that I shield you from these flames in turn.¡±


    At last my attention fell on the Prince of Brus.


    ¡°I did not work to pull you back into the Chamber of Assembly only to see you fall once more. It will most like to be many years before the two of us can see eye to eye. Your dismissive attitude towards our cultures and traditions rubs me the wrong way, but¡­ I acknowledge that you have done what you could to fit yourself to them in the few months that you have spent within our borders. The principate cannot afford for the two of you to fight, and so you have my support.¡±


    The three of them looked at each other. A silent agreement seemed to be reached between them.


    Cordelia Hasenbach looked like she¡¯d swallowed a vat of acid.


    I walked back to the empty seat, collapsed into it, and allowed myself to breathe.


    It was out of my hands.


    Hours passed.


    Three princes took it upon themselves to argue in my favour with Cordelia Hasenbach on the assembly floor. They could in theory have overruled her. They didn¡¯t. Instead, it became a long, drawn out debate about how to address my many wants.


    The hour waned.


    Corpses were moved off of the Chamber of Assembly floor. Paper was brought in. People arrived, people left.


    Eventually, I stopped paying attention to it all.


    My adrenaline had faded.


    What was left was all too much for me.


    The sun set.


    At long last something resembling a working proposal for mitigating the disaster was drafted, then passed.


    Considering it was done with minimal assistance from advisors and with barely any records to reference¡­ I strongly believed that my suspicions had been correct. Cordelia Hasenbach had entered the Chamber of Assembly with a plan on hand for after her betrayal panned out.


    Her version of my proposal had needed adjustments. It wasn¡¯t nice. It wasn¡¯t pretty. She had needed to make changes to account for both my own demands, the remaining princes demands and the deaths of the other princes, but¡­ the proposal could serve as a temporary salve over the wound in the Principate nonetheless.


    Cordelia looked like someone had poured cod liver oil in her breakfast cereal. I was too tired to consider the potential ramifications of that, but I was certain it would cost me in the future.


    Bone crushing fatigue pressed me down.


    An accord between the two of us was at last reached.


    There was an ache in my chest.


    The hole that one friend had occupied.


    And the stab wound from another.


    But for once, the thundercloud had a silver lining, even if I couldn¡¯t really appreciate it.


    I¡¯d obtained what I wanted.


    I¡¯d managed to eke out a win.

 Concord 5.17

    ¡°¡ªTwenty-three princes sit in a room


    In walks a saint and it spells their doom


    Twenty-two princes cower in fear


    The blade came out and their end draws near


    Twenty-one princes run for the door¡ª¡±


    ¡ª Excerpt from Twenty-Three Princes, a Callowan Folksong.


    <hr>


    It was the last day of winter.


    The sun had yet to peek through the shutters.


    Despite feeling more dead to the world than I had been in the void, I hadn¡¯t slept at all.


    Will this work? I know Yvette told me she didn¡¯t need a birthday present ¡ª or a celebration ¡ª but I still want to do something nice for her. I would have appreciated it when I was her age, but our cultures are so different. This isn¡¯t something I want to mess up.


    I¡­ want to get this right.


    No.


    I need to get this right.


    I turned the idea over in my mind once more, then pushed it aside when my focused wavered. My eyes watered. I blinked, reached up and brushed the tears aside.


    The presence of my angelic family was comforting as always, but did little to push back the malaise.


    Keep it together, Taylor.


    The gaping maw of yesterday still threatened to swallow me whole.


    I closed my eyes. Started to pray once again. It helped centre me.


    The moment I calmed, I turned my attention back to my thoughts.


    I was struck by an epiphany.


    This is what kills us all. Compassion¡¯s heroes all have the same types of flaws, and I¡¯m not exempt from that. Right now, I¡¯m caring too much about others and forgetting about myself. Helping people feels good, so I do it. Then I find myself doing it more and more, until there¡¯s nothing of me left for me. Only a hero that belongs to everyone else. I¡¯ve been falling into the same trap as the rest of them.


    I¡¯m moving too fast because of it. What happened in the Chain of Hunger left me unbalanced. It pressured me, made me feel the need to move faster to justify my own choice to myself. It¡¯s made me become much more reckless, and I¡¯m not giving every decision enough consideration as a result.


    I¡­ need to find something for myself. A hobby, or art, or craft that doesn¡¯t involve my mission. Something to anchor me to me. If I don¡¯t, I¡¯m going to burn myself out. I need to take a step back and collect myself. Planning to live forever means nothing if I run myself empty today.


    ¡­ A part of caring for others is going to be learning to take proper care of myself.


    The question was, what could that outlet be?


    Running used to be that outlet, but it wouldn¡¯t be able to serve that purpose. I¡­ wouldn¡¯t be able to turn away from helping the people that I ran into while I was running, which would turn that hobby back into my mission once more.


    Reading?


    No, that wouldn¡¯t work either. I couldn¡¯t read just for the joy of it any more, either. Works of fiction were stories. Stories were relevant to the duties of a hero. I needed to pay attention to themes, patterns that repeated, the details about the characters. Besides, I spent so much time reading official documentation that I didn¡¯t want to see more letters on a page when I relaxed.


    What could I do just for the joy of it?


    I bit the edge of my lip in consideration.


    How about art? Painting, sculpture or even something like poetry¡­ A part of it appealed to me, but¡­ No. I needed something that didn¡¯t involve thinking. A hobby that just involved doing. Most of my time was spent thinking these days and when I wanted to relax, I didn¡¯t want to stop and think.


    I required a way to bleed off energy.


    One that didn¡¯t consume my finite attention span.


    What could that be?


    Running would be great. I wanted to run, but I didn¡¯t want to run in an enclosed space just to avoid meeting people. It would leech the joy out of the experience. Flying out into the countryside just so I could run there ¡ª or even flying by itself ¡ª felt like I¡¯d just be avoiding my own problems.


    So no¡­ on third thought, running wasn¡¯t great.


    But what could I do instead?


    There was a knock at the door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± I called out blearily.


    I opened my eyes, then glanced up from the cluttered pages strewn haphazardly across the dark mahogany surface of my office table towards the oaken door.


    The handle turned.


    The door opened


    The perpetually cheery, bedraggled redhead let herself in.


    ¡°S¡¯pose y¡¯don¡¯t need me to tell you that you look like the wrong end of a Levantine whorehouse,¡± Songbird greeted me.


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me.¡±


    ¡°Chin up. You won.¡±


    ¡°What are you here for, Song?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a really handsome fellow outside the front door. Says he¡¯s here to gab with you.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re trying to set me up with somebody just to cheer me up¡­¡±


    ¡°No, m¡¯serious.¡±


    ¡°Who is it then?¡± I sighed, then started to rise to my feet.


    Songbird walked across and pushed me back into my chair.


    ¡°Sit. Don¡¯t hassle yourself here. Says his name is Prince Frederic.¡±


    My first instinct was to refuse the alleged prince entry. I clamped down on it. It would set a bad precedent for the future if this truly was him and¡­ I grudgingly admitted that I owed him a lot.


    I need to apologize to him. Him, and the other two royals who assisted me near the end. I owe them all for what they did for me when I wasn¡¯t in the right frame of mind.


    ¡°That¡¯s exactly the time when I should be hassling myself.¡±


    ¡°Y¡¯don¡¯t actually have anything fancy enough here to properly entertain him.¡±


    ¡°I know. It wasn¡¯t like I was expecting Princes to show up at my door when I settled on this place,¡± I grumbled. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you sent him up, then?¡±


    ¡°M¡¯not so sure about if he really is Prince Frederic. He looks the spitting image of the kid, but I doubt a prince would darken your doorstep.¡±


    ¡°Is there a retinue with him?¡±


    ¡°There is, but s¡¯not proper for him to be calling on you like this. There are rules, courtesies, and procedures that need to be followed. They¡¯re all being tossed aside. Your two scary guards are keeping the crook waiting outside the door.¡±


    ¡°It probably is him,¡± I sighed again. ¡°Send him up, I owe him an apology.¡±


    Songbird left, humming as she departed.


    I need to try to make myself presentable. There¡¯s no way he won¡¯t see through it, but¡­ at least I won¡¯t look like I¡¯m falling apart.


    I looked around my desk.


    Noted the clutter.


    Grimaced.


    The room is not much better either.


    I pushed my curls aside, fixed my hair and wiped away the tear stains. Then I started to straighten the documents on the table. I didn¡¯t have enough time to do much more, so I did what I could.


    The arrival of footsteps outside the door heralded my illustrious guest.


    I rose.


    Opened the door.


    ¡°Forgive me for disturbing you at this ungodly hour, Chosen. You appear¡­¡± he trailed off as if he was searching for the right words.


    ¡°I look awful,¡± I finished for him, giving him a tight-lipped smile. ¡°Sorry about the venue. We can move somewhere more appropriate if¡­¡±


    ¡°You do not need to accommodate my sensibilities when it was me that disturbed you,¡± he waved his hand dismissively. ¡°I was about to say that you look like a warrior who has raised her blade in the name of duty one too many times.¡±


    He trailed behind me, pulled out the chair for me, then placed a letter on the table and took the seat opposite me after I¡¯d sat down.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I blurted out. ¡°Sorry for how I¡¯ve been treating you. Sorry for the guards that kept you outside the door. I¡¯ve been unfair to you. I know I have, but I¡¯ll do my best not to be unfair to you in future. You helped me in the Highest Assembly when you could have taken advantage of my anger instead.¡±


    Walking out of that room¡­ wouldn¡¯t have ended well.


    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble on my part,¡± he gave me a sad smile. ¡°In truth, I have treated you unjustly in turn. Allowing events to transpire on the floor of the Highest Assembly the way they did¡­ was a travesty that should not be repeated.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±


    He raised a hand and ran it through his hair, then grimaced.


    ¡°I come to you with a conundrum of sorts,¡± he began.


    ¡°I¡¯m not in the best shape at the moment,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°It is not that sort of problem that darkens my door,¡± Prince Frederic gestured towards the letter. ¡°I¡¯d like for you to peruse the contents of this missive.¡±


    I picked it up, opened it, frowned as I started to read it.


    It only had three words.


    Talk to Taylor.


    ¡°Do you know who sent this?¡±


    ¡°The Augur was responsible for delivering this missive to me. I¡¯ve been troubled ever since.¡±


    I stiffened.


    ¡°You want my thoughts on this?¡±


    ¡°While my first instinct is to treat the missive with the suspicion one might reserve for a venomous snake in light of your revelations in the Chamber of Assembly¡­ I cannot in good conscience do so.¡±


    What does the Augur want? Presumably whatever it is that Cordelia wants, so it¡¯s best to start by asking what she wants. What does Cordelia Hasenbach get out of this conversation?


    Conversation halted for a while as I considered the letter.


    Cordelia Hasenbach was clever, she was persuasive, she could be charming when she needed to, but¡­ she was also unyielding, manipulative, and prepared to do anything to safeguard her vision for the future.


    I drummed my fingers in thought.


    She¡¯s the idealized version of what Procer actually is. Cordelia Hasenbach is the best version of what lies behind the mask. She¡¯ll do her duty and protect the nation, but she¡¯ll scheme and connive like everyone else while doing it. She¡¯ll also sacrifice anything so long as she gets the things she cares about.


    I stood up, then started to pace.


    Frederic raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything.


    Who was Prince Frederic?


    He was well-spoken, charming, young, inexperienced, innocent. He was also¡­


    He¡¯s the idealized version of what Procer pretends to be. The good prince. The one who is honourable according to their code. He¡¯s stubborn, and I don¡¯t like a lot of what that code involves, but¡­ there¡¯s also a lot that I do like about it as well.


    What was the Augur¡¯s game here?


    Begin by assuming that she wants Cordelia alive and in charge. She might not, but if that was the case, then I might as well throw everything that I know about both of them out of the window. She can¡¯t afford for me to oppose Cordelia in the long term if that¡¯s the case. Even if Cordelia did find a way to either kill me or wrest power away from me, it¡¯s likely that she¡¯d kill the nation in the process.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Prince Frederic started to hum a lilting tune while I walked. It was sad, mournful.


    The only question is why did she allow the disaster in the Chamber of Assembly to unfold. She either foresaw a way for Cordelia to take advantage of all of this, or she was tricked by someone else. The Augur isn¡¯t the only seer I''ve run into, the Tumult sort of counts as one as well, so¡­ perhaps the latter is possible.


    I stopped in my pacing.


    Who benefits the most from the fallout? No, let¡¯s take a step even further back. At what point did everything go wrong for Cordelia? I¡¯ll assume that me failing to pass the motion was the plan. I¡¯d have been unhappy, but I¡¯d have lived with it. So, what next? I¡¯m not sure how that would have ended in the long term, but I¡¯d probably have allowed myself to be argued down much sooner if Laurence wasn¡¯t in the room. Taking that into account¡­ when she entered is the point of divergence from whatever the Augur¡¯s vision for the future was, assuming somebody else interfered.


    ¡°Who benefits the most from Cordelia and I being at each other¡¯s throats?¡± I asked the Prince of Brus. ¡°Praes, the Kingdom of the Dead, the Free Cities?¡±


    ¡°I do not follow the lay of your thoughts,¡± Prince Frederic admitted.


    ¡°Humour me.¡±


    ¡°While there are many external actors who stand to gain from the Principate¡¯s loss¡­ It¡¯s the Proceran House of Light that has come out of this conflict with the most to show from it.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel that way,¡± I stated.


    ¡°What is your vision for the Proceran House of Light?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a religious institution. I want it to help people. Throwing the country into a state of chaos achieves the opposite. I¡¯m aware that the church has political clout, but¡­¡±


    ¡°You do not seek to rule over the Principate,¡± Prince Frederic finished.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Consider what transpired in a different light then. How might one view what occurred had seizing the reins of the nation been your intended purpose?¡±


    ¡°Fifteen princes died, along with four representatives. Many of the princes have heirs, but there are still probably going to be many succession wars. That means chaos, the nation is weaker over all and turns its attention inwards,¡± I bit my lip. ¡°The House of Light is stronger than it¡¯s ever been before. We¡¯re organizing, have a formal leadership and have purged our ranks of corruption.¡±


    I paused.


    ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯ve got,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Do you have the minutes of the assembly meeting on hand?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. Esme is going to get a copy of them to go over with me later, but I can recall everything. What do you need to know?¡±


    ¡°Turn your thoughts towards the speech you gave in the moments after my own.¡±


    ¡°The one where I talked about what a villain would do?¡±


    That was really a low point for me. The whole chamber meeting was.


    ¡°Indeed. Consider that you threatened to stand down our armies.¡±


    I¡¯ve actually stopped an army before, so telling them I¡¯d do that holds weight. They need to consider it a real threat, rather than just a hypothetical one. Armies are expensive. I know that much, considering all the work I¡¯ve put into attempting to build up my own. Nobody sends one out on a whim, either. They do it because it¡¯s cheaper to take what they want and then have the seized territory pay back the cost over decades, then pay the other party for what they want for decades or even centuries. Alternatively, they do it because they hate the other side¡¯s guts, but that is neither here nor there. They¡¯re worried about their borders becoming permanently locked if I choose to follow through with my threat.


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°Procer has feasted upon its own tail for the past twenty years. It was not long before the House of Light began to consolidate its power once you arrived. You brought a proposal before the Highest Assembly with the stated intention of holding heroes responsible for their actions, then followed through on doing so even when your proposal failed. All of this is contained within the formal record, available to peruse for any who are possessed by the desire to do so.¡±


    I stiffened. When explained that way¡­


    If I tried to push to have the House of Light¡¯s seat on the Highest Assembly reinstated, they might have to capitulate. Not because they want to, but because of how much chaos refusing would cause. I¡­ don¡¯t want that. It would be escalating a situation that¡¯s already far too delicate. What is the goal of this hypothetical prophet? That is the question. Is this somebody trying to further the goals of the House of Light, or somebody trying to bring chaos to the Principate? Both are possible. Both could be true at the same time as well. Either way, if they exist, then their vision of the Principate and mine aren¡¯t the same.


    The Bard could probably do something like this, although it might be too fast to jump to conclusions. I need to talk to more people about her first. I¡¯ve also just been burned for acting too fast, so¡­ Better to approach that nest of hornets with extreme caution. One look at her dreams was enough to convince me that I don¡¯t want to make an enemy of her unnecessarily.


    Besides, I¡¯m making many assumptions here. I¡¯m not sure how the Bard would benefit from alienating one of the few other immortals on the continent. She might be acting out of spite for me breaking her dream, but she''s thousands of years old. I think she''s far more calculating than that. It¡¯s more likely that the Augur is at fault.


    ¡°I probably won¡¯t be able to trust the First Prince any time soon.¡±


    If I assume that Cordelia doesn¡¯t want the Principate to fall into chaos, then¡­ She needs me to work with the system. I don¡¯t like it, but I¡¯ve worked with people I detested before if it was necessary to help save others. Upsetting the balance of power further at the moment would likely kill thousands more.


    ¡°Trust is not necessary for an accord to be reached.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s the foundation for all good relationships,¡± I paused, ¡°why do you think the Augur wants us to talk?¡±


    ¡°I cannot claim to know the lay of her thoughts.¡±


    She didn¡¯t tell him what to talk to me about, but I¡¯m sure that she could have. That means that I¡¯m likely to stumble over it by asking almost anything, or have stumbled over it already. Prophets really are the worst. Best to ask some other questions just in case.


    ¡°What do you consider my biggest failing?¡±


    ¡°You have learned about Procer in an academic sense, but do not understand who we are as a people.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not something I can fix quickly.¡±


    ¡°You could perform diplomatic visits to each Principality and visit the Princes there.¡±


    ¡°I have duties.¡±


    ¡°Consider visiting Aisne and Neustria as part of an effort to thank them for their support on the floor of the Highest Assembly.¡±


    Can I do this? Do I have time for this? Possibly. It¡¯ll take some time to set things up so I can afford to travel, but¡­ the advice bears consideration.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. For now, I¡¯ve got other problems.¡±


    ¡°Then consider this a formal invitation to visit the Palace at Brus.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I hesitated.


    You¡¯re looking for a hobby anyhow, there¡¯s no harm in asking.


    ¡°Do you have any suggestions for a starting point? Something important to your culture that I could learn more about. Preferably something physical.¡±


    ¡°I understand that you considered the Saint of Swords to be a friend. Perhaps you could begin by learning more about duelling in her memory,¡± his lips twitched, ¡°I¡¯m told that it was a sport she was most skilled at.¡±


    That was¡­ actually a good suggestion. Blaise and Michel were both talented duellists and would be able to teach me. I was not likely to ever use the skill in combat, which meant¡­ if I enjoyed duelling, then I could develop the skill purely for myself.


    ¡°I will.¡±


    We exchanged a few more pleasantries before Frederic Goethal departed.


    I left my office, made myself presentable, then started my duties for the day.


    Lunch arrived, and with it came Esme. She had acquired a copy of the minutes of the meeting as well as the final proposal that was passed and taken the time to go over both.


    She reinforced some points made by Prince Frederic, then brought up some of her own. Some were obvious in retrospect. The Princes only offered to help me after I¡¯d gone and asked them. All of them had been able to hear me, they could have offered at any time. They hadn¡¯t, because they needed me to petition them in order to uphold the illusion that the Highest Assembly sat above everyone else.


    Some things I had been able to note myself in retrospect, like the fact that they had been prepared to negotiate with me, but Cordelia had not. It was unlikely that they were any more excited to do so, which meant it was more a matter of her being First Prince that complicated proceedings.


    Esme also talked about the changes she predicted in the political landscape at large. She claimed that while none of the nobles would care that Cordelia had backstabbed me, they would care that she was caught out for it. She suspected that they would have approved of Cordelia¡¯s plan, had she been able to follow through with it.


    Esme also suspected that they approved of the stance Cordelia took against my proposal. That while some of them might care that their leaders had died¡­ many would see it as a promotion. She believed that Cordelia¡¯s position was both weaker and stronger. It had strengthened because the nobles who replaced the now dead princes would have much less experience. It had weakened, because she had managed to position herself against me.


    Cordelia''s plan ¡ª according to Esme''s speculation ¡ª was likely for my proposal to fail and be seen as a House of Light grab at power, then for her to bring out her own proposal on the back of mine. Had events proceeded without Laurence stepping into the room, that plan might have worked. The play was to reduce both the House of Light''s reputation and influence through her original unamended proposal, then strengthen her own by being seen as going the extra mile in the wake of our own failure. A reasonable ¡°proposal¡± that both satisfies my demands but also weakens the House of Light would have been seen as a fitting political response.


    I didn¡¯t like what that said about Cordelia.


    The biggest sticking point was her almost becoming a villain. Heroes in Procer had a reputation for accusing people of villainy only as an excuse to kill them. It made my accusation hold much less weight than it would otherwise carry. How much weight that historical reputation held in comparison to my own personal reputation remained to be seen, but¡­ it could become ugly. It was not likely the nobles would care either way, but it could cause an uproar among the peasantry.


    Time would only tell how it all played out.


    Her thoughts on the motion itself were more interesting.


    The proposal was long and featured plenty of minutiae, but the important parts could be summarized as follows:


    <ol style="text-align: justify">


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Benevolent Heroes fell under the authority of the House of Light. They had to register to be counted, but it gave them legal protections that they otherwise would not have. There would be specific badges unique to each registered hero to identify them.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">The House of Light was legally allowed to assist Heroes with their quests.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Heroes were allowed to render judgement on peasants.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Heroes otherwise had to follow the rule of law, but could only be judged by Princes, Royal Magistrates or me.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Peasants were allowed to petition the House of Light to have a hero investigate the nobility. A petition requires the support of between two hundred and five thousand peasants ¡ª depending on both the importance of the noble and the population of their holdings ¡ª for the noble to be investigated. It also had to be filed at the capital city of each Principality and witnessed by a Royal Magistrate.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">If the hero found a prince guilty, they could bring the prince before the Highest Assembly to be tried.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Princes may only be tried once a year, and never for the same accusation twice.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">The First Prince may not be tried or investigated by a hero.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Regular nobility may be taken to be tried before a Royal Magistrate.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Priests may produce arms and armour blessed by the Light, provided they do so on lands that are not owned by the House of Light and while under supervision from someone among the nobility.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">A large armed force would be recruited from among the unemployed fantassassins, then trained to serve as executioners for the less dangerous hostile Named. The exact details on unit composition had been left up to me and Klaus Papenheim to hammer down later, but it was likely it would primarily be composed of crossbowmen.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">That armed force fell under the authority of each Prince within their principality.</li>


    </ol>


    The proposal preserved the illusion that the First Prince was above heroes, but it was very much an illusion. If heroes were unhappy with the First Prince, the chances were high that the Highest Assembly would see the First Prince deposed.


    I wasn¡¯t certain how the rest of the proposal would hold up in practice, but my biggest concern was what happened when a noble resisted arrest. It hadn¡¯t been well-defined in the proposal, and I could already see that there would come a time it became a point of contention.


    Esme had been more concerned that poison would remain the preferred solution for princes. I was worried about it as well. Achieving justice this way was slow, and if the nobility would rather kill their own than face justice, they had plenty of time to choose to do so. What it did do is potentially curb something like another Proceran civil war. Peasants that were tired of having their lands pillaged could petition to investigate a Prince, and the chances were high that the hero would find something to hang them for.


    While it was possible that the princes might all vote against meting out justice, they all knew in practice now that if a hero wasn¡¯t happy with the result, all of them might die anyway.


    What surprised me the most is that the proposal had set hard numbers for the petitions, rather than percentages. Esme had told me that they were trying to skew it so that it was hard to try certain nobles based on the numbers they had set, but¡­ percentages would hold up better with time than hard numbers would.


    There were more considerations that were brought up. The proposal was long and there was too much to notice all the finer details with only a single glance but¡­


    It was an in. Five thousand people banding together for a petition against the most egregious outlier was a lot, but it was much less than how many were needed to stage a proper revolt.


    Our meeting came to a close. The day marched towards its end.


    All five of us gathered beneath an aged oak behind my residence, clustered around a stone.


    Two had nothing to say. They were simply there to offer support.


    Laurence de Montfort.


    Made no compromises with Evil.


    There was little noise, despite being near the heart of the city. Just the understated tweeting of birds from the bare branches above.


    ¡°She spent her life the way she would have wanted to, and made Procer a better land with her passing,¡± Esme smiled, then tossed back a drink.


    ¡°I thought that I didn¡¯t like her, but miss her now that she¡¯s gone,¡± Yvette added.


    ¡°She was single-minded, uncompromising, stubborn to a fault and¡­ committed to doing good no matter what it cost her. She often frustrated me, but I cared about her regardless.¡±


    I gave the grave a melancholic smile, and finished my own drink.


    Songbird ¡ª the perpetual pain in my boot ¡ª had suggested I invite all surviving princes to our little gathering. That idea had been promptly dismissed.


    I hadn¡¯t spent long thinking about what to do to celebrate her life. Not because it wasn¡¯t important to me, but¡­ because it was easy to work out. Laurence lived an ascetic life on the road. She would have rolled over in her grave if I¡¯d made an event out of her funeral.


    So I kept it small, quiet.


    I would have invited other people that she cared about if I¡¯d known who they were, but¡­


    I didn¡¯t know who they were, or where they lived.


    The sun set, night arrived.


    We all parted once more after dinner.


    I sat down in my office on the ground floor, considering my idea for a gift.


    My resolve firmed.


    I¡¯d decided on the final shape.


    A ghost vanished, and three books appeared on my desk. One was empty.


    I picked up a quill and started to sketch on the first page.


    Is this good enough? It has to be.


    My sweaty palms and erratic heartbeat made the result far more messy than I would have liked.


    The night passed.


    Dawn rose.


    I ascended the stairs and made my way down the narrow corridor.


    Every step felt like a full journey.


    I stopped at the second room and the right. I knocked on Yvette¡¯s door.


    A bleary-eyed kid opened it and looked up at me from below.


    ¡°Morning ma. Is something the matter?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡± I gave her a heavy grin. ¡°Come on, I wanted to show you something.¡±


    ¡°Did you have to wake me up for this? I was working on refining my idea for spacial manipulation last night and didn¡¯t get much sleep.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll like it. I promise.¡±


    She stared at me dubiously, but still followed behind me.


    Both of us entered my office.


    ¡°What are you wanting to show me? It better be important, because otherwise I want to go back to sleep. Some of us are still mortal, you know.¡±


    ¡°So I know you said you didn¡¯t care about receiving a birthday gift but¡­ It was a big part of my culture, and I wanted to do it for you anyway.¡± I pointed towards the books on the desk. ¡°Go on, take a look.¡±


    She opened the first book. Squinted at the page, puzzled.


    ¡°So, I spent a lot of time thinking about what would be meaningful to you. Finding new tomes about magic would be hard, and they lose their value with time, so I had to decide on something else. I considered exotic items of clothing and a few other things as well but¡­¡± I realized I was rambling, ¡°The first is a photo album of some of my memories from before I arrived here. People I cared about. Moments that meant things to me. The second is-¡±


    A wet eyed Yvette barrelled into me and squeezed me in the tightest of hugs.


    ¡°Thank you thank you thank you how did you get this it''s amazing it¡¯s-¡±


    ¡°I experimented a lot with the guidance of angels,¡± I patted her back awkwardly. ¡°It''s a photo album taken from your memories of the people that you care about. I didn¡¯t actually look at any of them, since I didn¡¯t know if you¡¯d want me to, but I assumed you would like it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s perfect,¡± she whispered, squeezing me tighter.


    ¡°The third is mostly empty. I drew a picture of my memory of when we met. I thought that the two of us could alternate. We could take turns putting one image at a time of moments we care about onto the page.¡±


    Yvette said nothing, just sniffed and hugged me for a while.


    My cheeks were wet, but my heart was warm.


    It was the first day of spring.

 Concord 5.0x

    ¡°The first freedom you lose in the First and Mightiest of the Free Cities is the freedom to leave. The second freedom you lose is the freedom to think.¡±


    ¡ª Penthesian saying.


    <hr>


    The bitter cold of late winter couldn¡¯t dispel Valerion¡¯s trepidation about what lay ahead.


    Their wagon let out a final thump as it came to a stop just a mile short of their destination. The lively cries of birds and rustle of grass punctuated their every step. They pulled off the road, hiding the wagon behind a grassy knoll. The air was crisp, the sky clear.


    Valerion breathed out, leaving a faint trail of mist wafting through the air.


    After ascending the knoll, they¡¯d taken the opportunity to observe the city from a distance. With patchwork masonry and crenelations that looked like they had been assembled by a committee of drunk cobblers, the haphazard walls of Bellerophon beckoned in the distance. Parts of the wall were reinforced bricks. Parts of the wall were made of wood. And then there were rope bridges spanning the gaps between the towers for no discernible reason at all.


    A flag featuring three peasants waving pitchforks fluttered from one of the turrets.


    Valerion swore the building was waving backwards and forwards in the wind.


    ¡°This won¡¯t work. This can¡¯t work,¡± Valerion declared.


    He breathed out. The late afternoon sun cast shadows over the surrounding shrubbery. Any reasonable city would have burned the bushes, flattened the land and placed ditches below the walls. It was better for the land to look scarred and ugly, then positions be left for enemies to hide.


    This was not a reasonable city.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet a week¡¯s pay that it gets us past the walls,¡± Octavia replied.


    She brushed aside her darken brown curls and scowled at the road. It meandered backwards and forwards according to no rhyme or reason anyone sane could discern.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bet two,¡± Lucian added from the right.


    Octavia looked up and met his blue eyes.


    His light blonde hair and hooked nose reminded her of birds back home. It didn¡¯t help that he squawked like one as well.


    She turned towards Valerion.


    He was the most cautious of them. Always advising care and restraint. Always playing it safe on bets. Never showing even a sliver of humour.


    ¡°You¡¯re on,¡± Valerion replied.


    ¡°I still think we shouldn¡¯t have taken this commission,¡± Caspian rumbled.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Octavia inquired, ¡°some of us don¡¯t like living in poverty and the pay¡¯s good enough to set us up for life.¡±


    ¡°Pay isn¡¯t worth it if we¡¯re dead,¡± Velerion added.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like the locals are threatening,¡± Lucian chided.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll bet as well,¡± Caspian sighed.


    The other two members of their motley crew all voiced their own bets. It wasn¡¯t long before they set a fire, ate a light meal, then settled in to wait.


    Night fell.


    ¡°There¡¯s nobody on top of the walls,¡± Valerion¡¯s voice rose an octave as he looked towards the city. ¡°Why is there nobody on top of their walls?¡±


    They returned to the wagon and set out towards the walls. The mules glared at them balefully. There was a marble statue hidden away in the large, wooden box. Its immense weight had slowed their journey to a crawl.


    ¡°Our employer spoke to the Bellerophan League delegate.¡± Octavia began, ¡°He said-¡±


    ¡°Cut it short, otherwise we¡¯ll be here all evening,¡± Lucian interrupted.


    ¡°So, anyway,¡± Octavia flushed, ¡°their elected general thinks sentries go against the Will of the People. There was a big argument about it before the delegate exploded.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Valerion had to know.


    ¡°They might be tempted into Allotting Worth to the Ideas of Vile Foreign Despots by spending too long peering beyond the walls of the Great City of Bellerophon, First and Mightiest of the Free Cities, May She Reign Forever.¡±


    The last words dripped in sarcasm.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised they haven¡¯t declared the same about building walls to begin with,¡± Valerion muttered.


    ¡°They did for a while. The law was rescinded when they also made it legal to learn how to swim.¡±


    Nobody had anything to say to that. The wagon drew up to the city gates. The large wooden doors were barred with a rusted piece of metal. It looked reminiscent of a pitchfork.


    ¡°So now we just hide in the box and wait?¡±


    Valerion gazed at the heavy wooden container with a furrowed brow.


    ¡°No, we stand out here until they shoot us,¡± Octavia mocked. ¡°Because that¡¯s what happens when you do the planning, right? Yes. We climb in the box. There¡¯s a reason the box is much larger than the statue.¡±


    They opened the box. Five of them climbed in. Octavia took a moment to pull out a prepared letter and leave it on top of the container. It was a sparse set of instructions on where to take the box to. Once done, she climbed inside and shut the door.


    It was stifling inside.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way they¡¯re just going to take us to that stupid rock of theirs,¡± Valerion grumbled.


    ¡°They¡¯re not people, remember,¡± Lucian grunted out. ¡°Our employer said that those instructions are written as if they¡¯re from one of their murder priests. They¡¯ll just follow along without thinking about them.¡±


    His long black hair could barely be seen in the crate.


    ¡°The last plan didn¡¯t work,¡± Valerion stated dubiously.


    ¡°Offering them the statue as a gift didn¡¯t work because they do not Accept Goods Produced By Wicked Foreign Oligarchs,¡± Lucian added.


    ¡°Putting it in a box and leaving it outside the door doesn¡¯t change who it¡¯s sent by,¡± Caspian butted in.


    The boy had a deep, resonant voice that contrasted his wiry frame.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they can tell who objects belong to on sight, just like everyone else,¡± Octavia countered.


    ¡°They¡¯re not stupid, they¡¯re just indoctrinated,¡± Valerion sighed.


    The more they spoke, the hotter it became. Sweat dripped down all of their bodies. It didn¡¯t help that all of them were clad in heavy leather armour, either. All of them lapsed into silence. Some of them started to drift off.


    Commotion outside the box interrupted their rest. It sounded like a group of people were arguing, but they couldn¡¯t hear what was said. Sound was muted through the walls of the crate.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way this works,¡± Valerion muttered.


    ¡°Quiet,¡± Octavia hissed.


    The box started to move.


    All six of them were tense for another half hour as it was slowly dragged deeper into the city.


    Long Live The Republic, Peerless Jewel Of Freedom. The Grain Of The People Should Go To The People. Down With Foreign Despots, May Glorious Bellerophon Reign Forever. People May Be Servants Of The State But Never Of Other People, A Thousand Years Of Damnation On Vile Foreign Autocrats.


    A choir of children¡¯s voices called out at one point in their journey. The words had a cadence to them, as if the children were repeating back something that somebody else had said.


    Eventually, the cries died away.


    The crate was lowered to the ground.


    Somebody started to open the door to their container.


    Octavia¡¯s blade flashed, silencing the youth before he could raise the alarm. Blood sprayed, painting her arms as she claimed the momentum. Another figure let out a cry. She sprinted towards them and carved her way through their unprotected throat.


    Her heart thumped, but her head remained cool. Octavia found no pleasure in violence. War was nothing more than a trade.


    She blinked.


    Her green eyes needed a moment to adjust to the light.


    All five of her conspirators trailed behind.


    They were in a large, open chamber. A rock jutted out in the middle of it.


    Few people walked back and forth inside the venue. A dozen of them were standing beside the crate, but none of them were armed. One of them looked like they were about to call out. Octavia¡¯s mail clinked as she dashed over and rammed her blade into their gut, then ran to the door.


    ¡°Valerion, Lucian, with me,¡± she barked out.


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    All three of them held their blades at the ready and did their best to bar the exit. There was a tense few moments of combat as they culled the survivors. Swing, cut, thrust. Octavia parried, then swayed to the side. What her opponents lacked in skill, they more than made up for in enthusiasm. They fought like rabid dogs that snarled and spat out Bellerophan propaganda as they tried to claw their way past her blade.


    She pressed her back against the wall to the right of the exit and struck out with calculated, probing thrusts. A snarling citizen threw itself on her sword. She slashed upwards instinctively. A chunk of flesh plastered itself over one eye as she shoved him off her, then rolled out of the way of another.


    Soon the floor was slick with blood.


    All of them were panting by the time combat finally drew to a close. Valerion was bleeding from scratches on his right arm. Lucian looked like he was missing an eye. Caspian had a chunk torn out of his cheek.


    At least the blood blends in with Valerion¡¯s wavy, red hair, Octavia thought.


    ¡°We¡¯re so dead,¡± Valerion muttered, ¡°there¡¯s no way we get out of here alive.¡±


    ¡°Stop yapping, the plan got us in here, didn¡¯t we?¡± Octavia barked out. ¡°Four of you move the statue. I know you want to stay here all day, but I want out. Valerion, stay and help me guard the door.¡±


    The two of them turned their attention to the world outside the chamber.  The streets sprawled in wild defiance of logic, as though the city itself were trapped between multiple competing visions of reality. Everywhere they looked, the architecture was off. On the one side there were buildings in the shape of triangles, squares, hexagons, as well as structures constructed with all kinds of odd geometry.


    On the other side, buildings were arranged in neat, orderly lines.


    ¡°We¡¯re done here,¡± Lucian called out.


    ¡°Good. Drag the box over to the entrance.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re really trying the same trick twice?¡±


    ¡°Did it fail the first time?¡± Octavia raised an eyebrow at the others. ¡°No need to be overly clever.¡±


    Octavia looked towards the statue that had been placed right in front of the pedestal. It was the first time she was able to catch a glimpse of it in proper lighting.


    Tired, early thirties. Likes cheap wine imported from Callow. Likes to laugh at her own expense. Prefers the company of men over other women, both as friends and as romantic interests. Not ambitious. Prefers a comfortable, quiet life, but is unable to live one due to her many vices. Not able to restrain her impulse to spend money. She¡­


    The description of who she was continued to drone within her mind.


    Octavia turned away from the statue.


    It portrayed one of the Penthesian Exarchs of years long past. It had been chiselled out of marble by a new Named Artisan in Penthes with a talent for making objects that exerted influence on the thoughts and emotions of others.


    This work of art had allegedly been constructed to force any who looked upon it to reflect on who they were as individuals.


    Their employer had paid them to see it settled within the birthplace of the city of Bellerophon.


    The crown resting on the brow wasn¡¯t part of their official regalia, but it was assured to rile the people of Bellerophon into a frenzy. She spared a glance to the plaque at the base of the statue.


    Votes express opinion and identity.


    It wasn¡¯t long until the crate had been moved once again. Only to come to a stop about a hundred heartbeats later. The door to the container opened. They found themselves facing down an angry mob of Bellerophan soldiers armed with everything from swords to spades to pitchforks.


    ¡°Told you this wouldn¡¯t work,¡± Valerion muttered.


    ¡°Surrender your weapons. You will be tried before a Jury of The People for Furthering the Base Purpose of Penthes!¡± The crowd called out.


    ¡°Well friends,¡± Octavia muttered, ¡°seems we got caught,¡± she turned back towards the mob and spat. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, you crazy bastards.¡±


    ¡°The-¡± the crowd started to chant once more, but Octavia cut them off.


    ¡°Time to go out with a fight, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    All six of them drew their weapons.


    The crowd started to close in.


    Blades clashed between the frothing Soldiers of the Free City of Bellerophon and the six mercenaries.


    Tension mounted. They had moved far beyond terror to an icy acceptance where death was taken as a given. No matter how many they killed, there was always another face in the crowd to replace the fallen citizen.


    Swing by swing, all of them became more exhausted. It wasn¡¯t long before Octavia¡¯s arms felt like lead.


    The heavy crunch of a pot to the face brought about Valerion''s end. He was the first to fall. The others backed away. Step by step, they found themselves herded like animals. They tried to make a break for the gates. Another crowd had cut them off.


    Caspian was second to fall. It was the handle of a broom driven through the eye that finally did him in.


    The rest of them perished one by one.


    The dust settled.


    The fight ended.


    And a statue began to sow strife in the First and Mightiest of the Free Cities.


    <hr>


    Anaxares watched the crowds fighting outside the heart of the Great City of Bellerophon. First and Mightiest of the Free Cities, May She Reign Forever. Those attempting to subvert the Will of the People had taken shelter around the building, then erected staked walls outside.


    Citizens of Bellerophon on either side of the wall cast stones at those who opposed them. Many had sustained bruises, broken bones or other more serious injuries.


    ¡°Freedom Means Freedom To Think!¡± one of the many traitors called out.


    ¡°The people have voted. You are to desist with further rebellion and submit yourselves to lawful judgement.¡±


    ¡°Down With The Wicked Local Tyrants!¡± another shouted.


    ¡°We are mere vessels for the will of the people!¡± Anaxares and those nearest to him shouted in return.


    His blood boiled in righteous fury at this enemy action on the part of foreign actors. That Penthes would dare to stoop so low as to undermine the very foundation of Bellerophon.


    He stood behind the lines, beside a sanctioned garbage fire burning on the side of the streets. It gave off a pungent smell. The stand-off was so distant that he was only able to hear when those who betrayed the will of the people shouted at the top of their voice.


    ¡°Vote With Your Head, Not With Theirs!¡±


    More treasonous words, Anaxares thought to himself.


    ¡°May The Kanenas Drown In Endless Pools Of Honey!¡±


    Anaxares was not expected to participate in this conflict as a diplomat in service of the Republic, but he was required to observe. A vote had been called for to determine whether the Soldiers of the People would storm the fortified positions of those attempting to rule over others. Doing so risked destroying Objects of Historical Value during whatever conflict inevitably ensued.


    Anaxares¡¯s attention drifted. His ballot had already been cast, now all that was left was to wait for the proceedings to conclude.


    ¡°Free The People From The People,¡± another traitor called.


    The Free Cities had descended into a series of squabbles that was tumultuous even by their low standards. The turmoil had arisen only a few seasons past, and none of the Free Cities had been exempt from it. None, save for Penthes and the Peerless City of Bellerophon.


    Helike faced civil war. One of their Depraved Children With Autocratic Tendencies was making a bid for claiming both the throne and the Name of Tyrant. Atalante, Delos and Stygia were involved in a three-way border dispute. Foreign Slavers Will Never Be Satisfied With Only A Few Under The Lash, he added with contempt. May They All Die Feasting Upon Searing Coals.


    The conflict had progressed in recent months, with two Stygian invasions having been repelled at Atalante¡¯s walls. Stygia¡¯s armies were set to wane in the next few years. They had the habit of butchering their old slave soldiers right before the new ones finished their training. Stygia was taking this war as an opportunity to cull the chaff through combat instead.


    Nicae had warned of an increase in piracy within the Samite Gulf, but the other Free Cities had not placed any importance on their pithy bleating when other matters took precedence.


    The only noteworthy diplomatic incident involving Bellerophon before this new vile attempt at subverting the Will of the People by Penthes had been the death of the last delegate to the League of Free cities. It was not considered a matter of much significance. The high fatality associated with the position was common, and many replacements were prepared for whenever old emissaries perished.


    Anaxares had just been selected to replace the previous delegate when the disaster had struck.


    The filthy Penthesians had seen fit to smuggle a Tool of Foreign Subversion into Bellerophon. Bellerophon had remained a lone bastion of order up until they had committed this new shameless act of war.


    Those who laid eyes upon the statue found themselves turned against the Will of the People. Discord had torn its way through the streets of Peerless Bellerophon in the moments before the kenanes had determined the origin of the problem.


    The disaster had already escalated by then, to the point that it was no longer possible to easily contain. Those who had been corrupted by the statue had taken it upon themselves to seize other citizens and subject them to the influence of the weapon. May Termites Consume Profane Penthesians From The Inside Out, Anaxares added as an afterthought.


    The final vote was cast. The people had decided that it was prudent to storm the rebel position, even in spite of the presence of the statue.


    Weapons were raised. The ground rumbled as thousands of feet poured across the barrier. Knives, swords, hammers, pitchforks. Everything from day to day tools to weapons were raised in deference to the Will of the People. Anaxares could feel it rise up. He could feel it flow through him, even as far back as he stood.


    The meaty thud of wood against flesh, the crunch of steel against bone and the harrowing cries of anguish flowed around him like a river. It flowed with the people, and the people moved along with it.


    Anaxares trailed behind them, then ascended a stairwell so that he could observe how the conflict proceeded.


    A poorly aimed rock hurtled over the crowd and slammed into his shoulder. The Soldiers for the People pushed back the traitors. They retreated into the oval building housing the founding monument of Bellerophon, then barred the door from the other side.


    The conflict stalled once again while the course of action for disposing of the statue was given consideration. It would likely be another half hour before the matter was settled by vote.


    It was only moments later when the situation became both simpler and more complex.


    There was a flash of white from behind the bolted door.


    Silence fell inside the chamber.


    Those who would usurp the will of the people let out a wail of disbelief from inside their makeshift shelter, then started to charge through the door. The fight resumed once again. One of the rebels tore down the chamber door and used it as a ram, trying to push through the crowds. Another found an axe.


    It was some time before the rebellion breathed its last breath and died with a whimper.


    Anaxares turned away, satisfied that the matter was resolved.


    <hr>


    It had been less than three hours since Anaxares had departed from the Great City of Bellerophon. First and Mightiest of the Free Cities, May She Reign Forever.  The walls were still within his sight, and yet he had already counted three separate counts of treason by Bellerophon law, and yet justice had yet to be carried out. He scowled. The City of Bellerophon had been stable before the interference of the vile Penthesians.


    The incident had come to a head when the Vile Instrument Of Foreign Despots had been shattered by a mysterious new arrival. Witnesses who survived the spilling of blood claimed that for a brief moment a figure had appeared inside the statue in a flash of Light and shattered it from the inside out. The intervention had likely spared days ¡ª if not weeks ¡ª of internal conflict within the Peerless City of Bellerophon.


    Anaxares¡¯s role as representative for Bellerophon had been put on hold in favour of a different duty. He was to visit the Free Cities of Delos and Stygia and discover what he could about the identity of the unknown figure. Then he was to set out to find them, then insist upon them appearing before the People so that their actions may be put on trial.


    There was also pressure within the city of Bellerophon to cast a vote to decide on the correct diplomatic approach once the identity of the foreign actor had been uncovered. Their assistance had been unasked for, and accepting it might be seen as allowing Foreign Influence to Pervert the Will of the People.


    It had already been decided by ballot that should the figure be a priest of the House of Light, then diplomatic overtures might be made. While the Gods Above were nothing but foreign despots, their servants suffered just as much beneath the lash as those anywhere else. A motion to allow a priest of the House of Light to cast ballots within the city had also been presented, but the kanenas had found fault in the words of the one who brought it forward. The proposal was dropped soon afterwards.


    A proposal for war with Penthes had also been put to vote and had passed almost unanimously.


    It was unfortunate Anaraxes would not be there to witness it.

 Perdition 6.00

    ¡°Joining a rebellion is much like ordering a mystery meal at the Tower, Chancellor. You never know which course is going to betray you.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Traitorous


    <hr>


    Will he beat me if I¡¯m caught?


    I sized up my mark with care from a shadowed alcove around the corner at the opposite side of the street. The slab of lard was dressed in fancy clothing, complete with golden chains and rings around his fingers. The kind of clothing that said he was new to his prosperity. People who were used to being rich didn¡¯t flaunt their wealth like this.


    That wasn¡¯t good for my odds.


    Newly made merchants were often more vicious, but I wasn¡¯t sure why. Harion had said they were trying to distance themselves from their own time spent being poor. I didn¡¯t buy his explanation. Either way, I couldn¡¯t afford the injuries.


    Life would have been easier if I had a weapon. Unfortunately, those kept being stolen from me by the other kids on the street.


    I¡¯d trade rubies for piglets just to have something to eat.


    A harsh, grating noise echoed out from the other end of the alley.


    I twitched.


    Mortar gave, then half of the wall of the building behind me had collapsed. I sighed. It wasn¡¯t the Legions. They would drag me back to an orphanage, or possibly do worse. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what. I¡¯d considered returning to an orphanage just for a day before running off again, but decided that it wasn¡¯t worth the risk. Orphanages¡­ weren¡¯t safe.


    The beast that had taken up residence in my stomach growled at me. I cast a longing gaze towards the pouch on the man¡¯s belt. The fop strolled closer.


    Picking his pocket was risky. People like him were always more alert to thieves. I looked up. The sky was clear, and the sun had almost reached its peak.


    A light spring wind gusted past.


    My stomach rumbled once again.


    If I don¡¯t find a mark before noon, I may as well run back to one of those houses of madness myself.


    Finding another spot would take too long, and it would probably be in use by someone else. I didn¡¯t want to end up in a scuff over territory. Besides, my spot was already good. It was a narrow alley between the markets and the wealthier parts of Laure and hurried merchants who were confident in their own safety often used it as a shortcut.


    This merchant would have to do. Besides, he was probably collaborating with the Praesi. Nobody became rich these days without allying themselves with the enemy.


    I rolled my shoulders, then started to run towards my mark. I ignored the dull, throbbing ache in my legs, as well as the pain from all the other bruises beneath my shirt. The two of us collided, then I reached out furtively as both of us fell to the ground and pulled at one of the pouches on his belt.


    Coins spilled like grain across the dusty road.


    I kicked one of them far away in the confusion.


    ¡°Clumsy oaf,¡± the merchant scowled at me.


    His eyes settled on the coins. Both of us rose to our feet. He seized my wrist before I could speak.


    ¡°You¡¯re not trying to rob me, are you?¡± he asked in a whiney voice.


    ¡°No sir,¡± I lied, ¡°I¡¯m a messenger, sir.¡±


    He looked up from the coins and examined me.


    ¡°Well, that does look like a messenger¡¯s uniform, but it¡¯s filthy,¡± he sniffed, ¡°and that smell.¡±


    I¡¯d taken it from the corpse of a messenger I¡¯d found lying in one of the more dangerous roads. It was a bit too big for me, but with some work I¡¯d made it fit. Better to be mistaken for a messenger than an orphan who had run away from an orphanage. It fooled most, but I wasn¡¯t willing to risk running into someone from the Legions. They were far more alert.


    ¡°I got caught downwind of the wrong end of an ox earlier,¡± I lied.


    The white of the messenger¡¯s uniform was stained brown after days of accumulated dirt. I didn¡¯t have the time to clean it. Survival was my first priority, my goals were the second, and cleanliness had long fallen by the wayside.


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you made yourself presentable since then?¡±


    ¡°Pay me more, and I¡¯ll take better care of it.¡±


    To my relief, he didn¡¯t notice that I was too young to be a messenger. My marks hardly ever did. I believed it was because they were always too caught up in the moment to pay close enough attention, but I wasn¡¯t entirely sure. Regardless, it was time to put up a fight, but not too much of one. I¡¯d learned early on in my time on the streets that my marks were far warier if I gave in to pressure immediately.


    ¡°How dare you. Why, I¡¯ll-¡± his cheeks reddened and his other hand raised.


    ¡°I¡¯m late,¡± I interrupted. ¡°I¡¯ve got a message for the Legions.¡±


    ¡°Tell me your message, and you can go.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Tell me your message.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll do worse than whatever you do to me if I snitch to somebody else.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± he huffed, ¡°but turn out your pockets.¡±


    I looked down at my own trousers, patted them with my free hand, then grinned at the man.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any.¡±


    The man cursed under his breath, before turning back to me.


    ¡°Pick up the coins and return them all to me, then you may go.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re holding up my message.¡±


    ¡°Then perhaps you should have considered the cost of your clumsiness before you stumbled into this alley,¡± he stated, smiling at me.


    Smug bastard looks far too satisfied.


    ¡°It must be hard to see a scrawny messenger like me over your own paunch.¡±


    The man purpled with rage.


    ¡°Why you lousy-¡±


    He raised a hand.


    ¡°The Legions won¡¯t be pleased,¡± I interrupted.


    ¡°Your troubles with your employer do not concern me,¡± he screeched.


    Despite his words, his grip loosened.


    Good, that¡¯s enough.


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    I bent down and returned his money to him.


    ¡°This is one coin short,¡± he whined as I placed the pouch in his palm.


    I was almost there. So long as I didn¡¯t tense, or do anything else to give my game away, the prize was ready to be claimed.


    ¡°Not my problem,¡± I breathed out, loosening my shoulders.


    ¡°Perhaps it should be docked from your pay.¡±


    ¡°You can come with me and explain to the Legions why I am late if you want.¡±


    The merchant gave me another long glare, before at long last turning away.


    ¡°No, no. Fine. You may go.¡±


    Finally!


    The merchant grumbled as he left. I walked the other way. It took effort to hide my excitement. I reached towards the lone coin which had landed atop a hedge beside the road.


    It was a full piece of Praesi gold. One that was almost the size of my palm. Not just gold, but the highest value coin as well.


    This is more than I¡¯ve had this whole past week.


    I coated it with dirt and closed my hand around it to hide the glint. Best not to let anyone else know about my spoils. The rim dug lines into my palm.


    The coin was heavy, but I didn¡¯t even feel the weight.


    My head was in the clouds.


    Flush with success, I left with a lightness to my step. I almost floated off the floor in excitement.


    A full piece of Praesi gold. I¡¯ve really snagged a full piece of gold. No waiting around, no hesitating, straight to the Rat¡¯s Nest to spend it. I get to have a proper meal today.


    A traitorous part of me whispered about how much better it had been living in the orphanage. How good life had been in comparison. I never would have considered this a good day only a single year ago. I squashed the thought.


    It¡¯s a great day, Cat. Don¡¯t let the past fool you. The streets are safer.


    The sweet smells of freshly baked bread and ripe fruits called out to me as I drew closer to the market. I slowed. My tongue licked my chapped lips in silent protest. If my mouth could water, it would have, but it had been dry and grimy for weeks.


    Could I risk the market instead? It was closer, and the food there was both fresher and cheaper. Maybe just this once? No¡­ The Legions were always there, and I needed to stay out of their way if I want to stay on the streets. Besides, the merchants there would ask questions that I wouldn¡¯t be able to answer.


    Dizzy, I forced myself to limp away from the market. I stuck to narrow alleys as I made my way deeper into the warrens of derelict buildings. The walk was a haze of suffering.


    Down one street.


    Check over my shoulder for any other thieves ¡ª that was always a risk ¡ª then check around the corner.


    Step by step, I drew closer to my meal for the day. More likely, my meal for the week.


    At last, I arrived outside the Rat¡¯s Nest. I made my way to the backside of the building and slammed my fist against the kitchen door.


    A fly buzzed around my head while I waited.


    It wasn¡¯t worth wasting my strength to chase it away.


    ¡°Back again, Catherine?¡± a voice called.


    I looked up. The door opened. A skinny man was dressed in plain brown wool stood on the other side of it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take whatever this buys me.¡±


    I opened my palm and showed him the coin.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting this to become a regular occurrence when I found you sleeping in this alley months ago,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°It¡¯s late,¡± I gestured again, ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡±


    ¡°Praesi gold?¡± he ran his hand through his balding hair and sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not going to save any?¡±


    ¡°Somebody will knife me if I hold onto it.¡±


    I¡¯d tried saving money at first. I¡¯d given up on the idea after being cornered more than once. It was best to get the full value for my money, then not keep any at all.


    I didn¡¯t like it, but I was trying to be practical about staying alive.


    His gaze softened.


    ¡°Look, Catherine, I¡¯ll take this and not ask any questions, but-¡±


    ¡°It would kill me.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure if there was a word for a place you kept people that went mad in the head. If there was, it was the kind of place orphanages had turned into.


    ¡°Take care not to dirty my kitchen,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Maria, get Catherine something to eat. As much as this buys, but no more,¡± he tossed the coin at the girl behind him. ¡°You know what to do before you¡¯re allowed to eat?¡±


    He peered over his shoulders, but I knew the question was directed at me.


    ¡°Do my best to clean myself. I know.¡±


    His shoulders slumped. He backed out of the doorway. I followed behind. I spent a few moments washing my hands in a bucket beside the door, then ran my bony fingers through the grime in my matted hair. It didn¡¯t make much of a difference in my opinion, but it made Harion happy, so I went along with it.


    I washed my hands one last time before drying them, then sat down on a stool beside the kitchen table.


    Harion stomped his way out the kitchen. I watched Maria work in while I waited. I was tempted to simply seize the foods around me and eat them as they were. The smells were overpowering.


    It took all my restraint to remain seated where I was.


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m taking advantage of you, Catherine,¡± Harion sighed.


    ¡°What did you say?¡± I snapped out of my reverie.


    ¡°Here are the documents I need you to read for me,¡± he proffered them towards me. ¡°I¡¯d like to pay you for this, but¡­¡±


    Times are hard, and we must all learn to live with the boot on our throat.


    Not that I planned to live with it for much longer, anyway.


    ¡°Can I eat first?¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t stop when you start.¡±


    I frowned. He was right, as much as I wished that he wasn¡¯t. This would be my first proper meal for the week.


    I took the documents and started to read them to him. It was a proclamation detailing the new curfews in response to the rising chaos. There were many words that I didn¡¯t know. Words that I had to skip over because I hadn¡¯t learned them before I¡¯d ended up on the streets. It was still cheaper for Harion to make use of me than to hire somebody else to read for him.


    It took some time before I finished.


    My eyes kept drifting towards the ingredients on the opposite end of the table.


    ¡°You were right about the orphanages,¡± he muttered.


    Harion reached for a bottle on one of the shelves behind him and popped the cork off, taking a swallow as he turned back to me. The news must be awful. It was rare for him to drink anything that he sold.


    ¡°Somebody else burn one to the ground?¡±


    ¡°Not this time. Some five-year-old boy died in one. He came back as a ghost, then killed all the other kids. Rumours claim that he kept asking for his favourite toy.¡±


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Only corpses live in orphanages,¡± I agreed.


    Things happened at orphanages. They had been happening for a while. Other children started to go missing more and more often, and those who didn¡¯t disappear became cautious. They were right to, because the last group were those who developed a case of strange in the head.


    Like Lydia.


    One day I had returned to the Laure House for Tragically Orphaned Girls and one look had been enough to tell me that her mind was more than a few nibbles short of a full loaf of bread. She followed me around everywhere, spent hours staring at flames.


    Even filling her bedding with rotten vegetables hadn¡¯t been enough to put her off.


    She¡¯d just tried to sleep beside me in my own.


    I¡¯d decided it was better to live on the streets than sleep beside that barrel of Goblinfire.


    ¡°Laure¡¯s Shelter for Forsaken Boys.¡±


    So Flaccid Shelter got a taste of the madness as well, then. What a pity. The boys there made for halfway decent company.


    ¡°Sounds like some kind of bad Praesi story.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know the half of it, kid.¡±


    ¡°What did they do about it? Call in the Calamities again?¡±


    I¡¯d have bet on them calling in a priest, only the local House of Light had been sacked during the last rebellion for hiding rebels and hadn¡¯t recovered in the aftermath. Finding a priest had been hard ever since. It was one of the reasons why I couldn¡¯t afford to be injured. The cost of wizard¡¯s services for healing had risen sky-high now that they had no priestly competition.


    As if I needed another reason to be angry at the Dread Empire of Praes.


    ¡°Way I hear it, they called in a fancy wizard.¡±


    Maria finished preparing the food and placed a plate down in front of me. I dipped the bread into a bowl of broth and started to scarf it down. It was so satisfying to eat something after so long without a proper meal that I could barely restrain myself.


    ¡°Careful. Eat slower, kid. You¡¯re going to make yourself sick.¡±


    ¡°M¡¯nt sre whn ll gt nthr meal lk this,¡± I said around the edge of the loaf.


    The tastes, the smells, everything about the meal was bliss to me. Had food always been this good?


    Harion sighed.


    For just one moment, I considered asking him if he could help me with my goal. There was talk of rebellion on the street and I wanted to join up. I dismissed the idea. It was better not to risk it. He served the Legion up front, and I wasn¡¯t sure whether he¡¯d sell me out.


    One bowl was emptied and another was placed before me.


    It didn¡¯t last much longer, either.


    I hummed a merry tune while I ate. One that I didn¡¯t know the words of.


    I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever heard it before, so I wasn¡¯t sure how it had wormed its way into my head.


    All too soon, there was nothing left for me to eat.


    Harion furrowed his brow.


    ¡°Here, have a little extra,¡± he said.


    Another bowl was brought forward.


    ¡°Sure, but why?¡±


    ¡°Today¡¯s Foundling Day.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t as if that meant anything. Another year passed, so what? I didn¡¯t need to be fifteen. It wasn¡¯t as if I was trying to enrol in the Legions.


    ¡°It¡¯s better off down my throat anyhow.¡±


    I polished off the bowl, then gave Harion a weary smile.


    ¡°You should ask around and see if anyone will take you in,¡± he advised.


    I shifted on the stool. My eyes drooped. I felt comfortably bloated. Satisfied in a way that I hadn¡¯t felt for weeks.


    ¡°As if anyone can afford to,¡± I snorted.


    ¡°Hope it all comes to an end soon.¡±


    I finished licking the crumbs off my sallow fingers, then looked towards the door.


    ¡°Time to go.¡±


    A firm hand settled upon my shoulders.


    ¡°Take care out there, won¡¯t you kid?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡±


    ¡°Rebels tried to hit somewhere in the city last night.¡±


    I stopped so abruptly that I almost fell flat on my face.


    This was my chance.


    ¡°Really?¡± I tried to keep my excitement out of my voice. ¡°Where did they hit?¡±


    ¡°A Lakeside warehouse. That¡¯s close to where you stay.¡±


    ¡°What makes you think I live there?¡±


    ¡°Kid, you smell like fish guts whenever I see you,¡± he snorted.


    ¡°Maybe I help out at the docks.¡±


    He gave me a flat stare, then shook his head.


    ¡°Rumours say they¡¯re going to try again tonight. You take care now, you hear me?¡±


    I wished him farewell, then left the Rat¡¯s Nest and made my way towards the Lakeside. I pulled back my collar and peered beneath my shirt. The purpling of my bruises had almost faded. Good. I turned my attention back to my surroundings. It took plenty of effort to avoid Legion patrols. I had to duck behind rubble and find shelter whenever I heard the sound of boots on stone.


    Broken buildings and ruined roads paved the way towards the docks.


    Most people took one look at me and then turned up their noses. The rest pretended that I didn¡¯t exist.


    I was accosted once by another gang of kids, but allowed to pass once the scavengers realized that I had nothing worth stealing.


    They didn¡¯t even try to beat me up when they let me go. I¡¯d have given as good as I got, but I¡¯d like to keep my teeth a little longer. Today really is a good day.


    It was the reason I hadn¡¯t decided to live in these abandoned buildings. Thieves had already banded together and taken up residence. I¡¯d considered joining up for a time, but speaking to some of them had convinced me otherwise.


    I¡¯d heard rumours that the Thieves'' Guild was facing similar troubles to orphanages. Rumours weren¡¯t proof, but they were as good as confirmation in my eyes, considering the state of Laure.


    No, it was better for me to avoid them.


    I arrived at the abandoned wreck of a windmill I¡¯d been using for shelter. It had been abandoned since Lydia had damaged it in her rampage. People claimed it was bad luck to approach, but that just meant it was safe for me to sleep here without the risk of being attacked in the night by anyone else.


    I made my way through the shattered doorway into my makeshift home. Light shone in through the holes that had been burned into the side of the windmill. The stairs creaked as I ascended the stairs.


    The only places not marked with dust were the markings left by my own two feet.


    I reached the landing at the top floor.


    Part of the roof had been burned away. The ground beckoned from below.


    I steeled my beating heart and stared down at it.


    My hand tightened around the railing.


    One day, Cat.


    A hundred heartbeats passed, then a hundred more.


    I gasped, panted, looked away.


    My body was slick with sweat.


    I descended the stairs, stopped one floor down.


    I looked around. My old dress from the orphanage was clean and folded neatly atop an empty barrel. Did I want to put it on, or should I wear the messenger uniform?


    I snorted.


    What did it matter? It wasn¡¯t like I had much to wear. Even adjusting the uniform to fit me had been the work of several days. There¡¯d still been some abandoned grain in the windmill back then.


    I hadn¡¯t yet known what it felt like to starve.


    I sat down on one of the sack cushioned barrels, then glanced towards the pile of empty sacks I used for bedding. They were wearing thin now, but at least the winter had come to an end.


    I looked up. Glanced at the map I¡¯d made in the dust coating the wall. It was crude, but it outlined the rough shape of Laure and every location a rebel attack had been sighted. I¡¯d been trying to make contact with them so that I could join.


    I didn¡¯t bother to add another mark.


    Today would be the day.


    I felt it in the gnawing in my stomach and the throbbing across my chest.


    It would have been easier if I could ask around. Unfortunately, I¡¯d noticed that people who asked questions tended to disappear. So I kept my thoughts to myself until one day I stumbled upon them on my own.


    My eyes lingered on the map for a few moments, before drifting to a hole in the wall. The lake could be seen in the distance. The last nets were cast. Fishing boats returned to the docks as the late afternoon sun fell towards the waters. Golden rays spilled across sails and oars.


    I thought of Her. The hero that I had once met. Everyone I¡¯d met spoke of her as if she was the next coming of Elizabeth Alban. My lips curled into an angry frown. She could have done something. She could have stopped all of this in Liesse. Everyone said she¡¯d been bested by the Warlock, but I knew better.


    I¡¯d spoken to her.


    She hadn¡¯t been bested, she¡¯d run away.


    She¡¯d run back to Procer with her tail between her legs because she was too afraid to do the right thing. Who cares if people died during a war if they chose to fight? Callow needed to be freed, and the Calamities needed to be brought down.


    No, the Aspirant was no hero. She hadn¡¯t raised the flag of rebellion and pushed back the Dread Empire of Praes.


    Callow needed a hero. All of us knew that. Everyone spoke about it when they thought nobody else was listening.


    Muttered words spoken under breaths in quiet alleys or on otherwise empty docks.


    Callow had needed one ever since the burning of Liesse.


    I¡¯d do better than her. I¡¯d be that hero ¡ª that knight in shining armour ¡ª no matter what it took.


    The sun dipped below the waterline.


    It was time.


    I winced as I rose to my feet.


    The door slammed shut behind me as I left the windmill and headed towards the warehouses. The smell of fish was rank in the air. Dull, flickering torches lit the edge of the docks.


    The docks were almost deserted.


    I slowed as I passed a pale man hidden inside a cloak. I looked up, met his piercing green eyes, then glanced away. He was smiling the way I used to when I played a prank on somebody else. My pace picked up. Soon I found myself alone once more.


    The dull thunk of boots against the rotten wooden planks around the shore caused me to slow. I glanced from side to side. There was an empty ally to one side. I limped into out of the light into it, then hid in the shadows behind a fallen rooftop.


    I held my breath as one of the Legion patrols marched past.


    They stalled. Took a brief look into my hiding place.


    The sound of my heart must have echoed all the way to the other side of the city.


    The patrol marched on.


    I breathed out.


    There was a time when I¡¯d looked up to the Legions of Terror. That time had faded to the back of my mind. During the last rebellion, the Legions had strung up the rebel leaders and crucified them outside the city gates.


    I¡¯d given the dying leaders a good, long stare before leaving.


    Allowed the image of their bleeding, whimpering bodies to burn itself into my memory.


    That had removed any blinders I had about the Legion¡¯s true purpose. They were here to enforce the will of the Empire. The boot was only comfortable provided we were willing to lick it. I¡¯d feed them their own leather soles before I was done. I wanted to see if they liked the taste of it just as much as we did.


    It wasn¡¯t long until the sound of the patrol faded into the distance. I rose from my hiding place and drew closer to the warehouses.


    Was that a blaze in the distance? Had the rebels already struck at their target?


    My pace picked up.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I found myself standing before a burning warehouse. Corpses lay strewn outside the doors. At least two dozen men and women, gutted like pigs and left to burn in the flames.


    A Legion patrol stood camped outside the only way into and out of the warehouse in a line. Desperate men and women threw themselves against them, only to be cut down. The dying screams and cries of anguish lit a spark within me. The rebels had tried to strike at a target, only to be cut down.


    The smell of sizzling flesh reminded me of cooked pork.


    My stomach rumbled.


    I forced my hunger aside.


    One of the corpses further away from the massacre twitched.


    No, not a corpse.


    A boy who was only a few years older than me at most.


    Still alive.


    Perhaps I could save him? Then he could introduce me to the rebellion. The only problem was doing so without being caught.


    I scuttled forward, careful to stick in the shadows.


    It was better not to be seen.


    My heart thundered within me. The Legion patrol never turned my way.


    The heat of the flames beat mercilessly against me even from a distance. I knelt down beside him, then rolled him onto his back. He coughed. Blood seeped from a wound on his chest. I leaned in closer. The wound didn¡¯t appear that bad. It wasn¡¯t bleeding as much as I thought it should have, but what did I know aside from my own experience? I looked towards his face. Something felt off about it. I was sure it wasn¡¯t just something caused by the dull, orange light from the flames, either. It was almost¡­ uncanny. No matter how hard I stared at him, I couldn¡¯t quite make out the shape of his face.


    I dismissed the peculiarity. It was probably just my hunger getting to me.


    With great effort, I dragged the body away from the conflict into the shadows of a nearby building.


    I was fortunate that no blood smeared itself onto the ground.


    ¡°There¡¯s a shard of broken glass to your right if you¡¯re here to finish the job,¡± the boy coughed out.


    I stiffened and looked back to the conflict. If it weren¡¯t for the clashing of blades, then I was sure he would have been heard.


    ¡°Quiet,¡± I hissed, ¡°they¡¯re still here. Easier to just let you bleed out if you¡¯re going to make noise.¡±


    He let out a hacking laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯re not with us. Decided to die along with everybody else?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m getting you out of here.¡±


    He struggled to his feet. I offered him my shoulder to lean on. His weight almost sent me tumbling to the ground.


    ¡°There¡¯s so little meat on your bones that not even an orc would eat you,¡± he grunted out.


    ¡°I¡¯d give them a bad stomach ache as I went down,¡± I retorted. ¡°What can I do? There¡¯s a place nearby that¡¯s safe to stay, but I don¡¯t have much else to offer.¡±


    ¡°Get me further away, then help me with my wounds.¡±


    ¡°You want me to cut you up? That¡¯s about all I¡¯m good for.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll walk you through it.¡±


    ¡°Good. I¡¯d probably kill you otherwise. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Sullivan. Yours?¡±


    ¡°Catherine, but call me Cat.¡±


    ¡°Right, Cat, let¡¯s go.¡±


    The two of us moved from shadow to shadow. The sounds of fighting became muted as we drew further away. Sullivan kept a hand pressed to his wounds as he walked. My breathing became heavy, ragged. I was not used to holding up so much weight.


    At last, we came to a stop at the windmill.


    Sullivan walked me through tearing up the less filthy parts of my own orphanage clothes and using them to stop the blood.


    ¡°From one burned down building to another. You sure take me to the nicest places,¡± he commented from his seat among the sacks.


    ¡°Want me to set it on fire again to improve the mood?¡± I answered glibly from beside him.


    ¡°Scorched and dusty is fine,¡± he replied hastily.


    His eyes settled on my map.


    ¡°What happened to you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not supposed to talk about this, but the mission¡¯s gone to shit, and I¡¯d be dead without you anyhow. There¡¯s a new rebellion brewing in Callow,¡± his voice perked up. ¡°One of our scouts brought information about a warehouse used to store Legion weapons.¡±


    ¡°And you walked straight into the jaws of a trap.¡±


    ¡°We think someone tipped off the Legions,¡± a touch of heat entered Sullivan¡¯s voice, ¡°the place was empty and troops were waiting for us when we arrived. They forced most of us into the building, then set it on fire.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re spry for someone who should be a corpse.¡±


    ¡°I saw what we were up against. Decided it was better to try to live and take back word to the rebellion.¡±


    This was it. This was my chance to join up. I just needed to convince him to allow me to follow.


    ¡°So you played dead.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. I was one of the first struck down. It¡¯s smarter. This way we can plan better next time.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re returning to the rebel leaders?¡±


    ¡°Soon as I can,¡± his voice lowered. I leaned closer to hear what he said. ¡°Can I trust you not to betray me?¡±


    ¡°Look at me,¡± I gestured to my hollowed out chest, ¡°It was easier to stab you than carry you here. Think I¡¯m any happier about the state of Callow than you?¡±


    ¡°Point,¡± his lips twitched upwards.


    ¡°Can I come with you when you leave?¡±


    He looked me up and down.


    ¡°You look like a strong wind would blow you over.¡±


    ¡°Who was it that carried you all the way here?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re also no older than ten.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m twelve,¡± I glared at Sullivan.


    ¡°Still too young to pick up a sword.


    ¡°Tell me with a straight face that war cares about how old I am, and then I¡¯ll stay out of it.¡±


    ¡°War cares about how old you are,¡± he replied with a straight face.


    I punched him on the shoulder, then winced. It felt like punching a boulder.


    ¡°You know what I meant.¡±


    ¡°Best not to get caught up in the rebellion while you still have your life ahead of you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m caught up anyway.¡±


    Sullivan shook his head.


    ¡°Take another look at me,¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Life can always get worse, Cat.¡±


    ¡°Better to die with a sword in my hand than with an empty belly.¡±


    ¡°It looks like you¡¯re planning to do both.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll follow you,¡± I scowled at him. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter where you¡¯re heading. Even if it kills me.¡±


    ¡°Fine, Cat,¡± he raised a hand and ran it through his short, black hair. ¡°I¡¯ll take you with me when I leave.¡±


    He paused.


    ¡°They won¡¯t even turn you down.¡±


    The last words were said under his breath, whispered as if they weren¡¯t meant for me.


    Conversation ended.


    I relaxed and closed my eyes with a smile.


    Despite how weary I felt, the day had been a good one. I¡¯d found someone who could take me to join the rebellion. Somebody who was already a member. Somebody that I could count on not to betray me to the Calamities.


    Both of us drifted off to sleep not long after.


    We both slept like the dead.


    The following day dawned. We departed from the windmill. He guided the way through the nest of broken buildings towards the rebel base deeper in the city.


    My feet ached, and my stomach growled, but I didn¡¯t care.


    One laboured breath at a time, Callow¡¯s freedom drew closer.

 Perdition 6.01

    ¡°We only truly bond with those who promise to break us at just the right moment.¡±


    ¡ª Soninke saying.


    <hr>


    It was the incessant thumping of feet and scratching of fabric, and not the call of the person on watch, that roused me from my slumber.


    It must be morning.


    Dawn had arrived far too soon.


    I rolled off my cot on the floor, rubbed the grime out of my eyes, and grabbed the threadbare woollen tunic and trousers I¡¯d been using for a pillow. I¡¯d been given them when I¡¯d arrived. There wasn¡¯t much to go around for any of us, but the rebellion was doing its best with what it had and was always trying to reach for more.


    The aches in my everywhere had reduced to a dull throb, but sometimes I was still shaky. Changing, I rose to my feet and shuffled my way between the other bodies shambling off the floor. I felt like a vegetable packed into a box alongside all the others. There were so many bodies within the room that it was stifling. Other orphans like me who¡¯d ran away and found common cause among the rebellion. We were an odd bunch with no real separation by age. The youngest brat was eight and often sniffled at night, making it hard to sleep.


    I was still miffed that my suggestion to put a shirt over his head while he slept hadn¡¯t met much approval.


    I shoved and jostled my way through the crowd as I headed towards the exit. Some of them gave me sullen glares, others swore under their breath. I didn¡¯t pay any of them much attention. They were all satisfied with the many unimportant tasks we were assigned. Busywork, but nothing significant.


    Performing menial chores like repairing clothing, peeling potatoes and messenger work felt like doing nothing to me. Actually, the messenger work felt meaningful but I wanted to do more.


    I hungered to do something that mattered.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I reached the ladder at the far end of the room and started to climb. The hatch at the top was open.


    ¡°Morning, little miss.¡±


    ¡°If you call me cute again¡­¡± I glared at him.


    ¡°Like an angry territorial chicken with not enough meat on her bones.¡±


    That was entirely unearned. I¡¯d only accosted someone for invading my space once. I punched him lightly on the arm. It didn¡¯t do much, but it made me feel like I was doing something. His lips twitched, then he let out a guffaw.


    ¡°Anything happened last night, Harris?¡±


    ¡°Nothing to bother your head about.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure my head will appreciate that when I¡¯m dead in a ditch.¡±


    Harris gave a shrug which was muted by his leather coat, but said no more. He never caved in to my demands to know more.


    I gave him one last sullen glare, then walked past, down a narrow corridor illuminated by candles ensconced on the walls behind the bent over form of the man in front of me. The compound was oppressive. A series of tunnels that had been dug beneath several of the houses in Laure after the last rebellion. I¡¯d been told that there were more compounds like it spread out across the city, but I¡¯d never gotten to see any of them. A part of me believed it was a lie that we were being fed in order to give us more hope, despite evidence to the contrary.


    My pace picked up as I entered the kitchen. The smells and sounds of bubbling, piping hot porridge called to me from the other end of the room. I grabbed a bowl and shovelled in as much as I could, then ambled towards the corridor again. I wasn¡¯t sure if the low, simmering heat from the cauldron was more or less unpleasant than the disapproving from of the chef. It sat atop an enchanted heating stone that pulsed between red and orange every few heartbeats.


    ¡°You better eat all of that.¡± the portly chef groused as I walked away. ¡°No taking more than you need to hide away for later like you did the last few times.¡±


    ¡°It was a meal for the road,¡± I protested.


    ¡°All you kids try that the first few times.¡±


    ¡°Hunger teaches all of us the best lessons,¡± I retorted.


    ¡°You say that, then you get horribly sick. Don¡¯t make more problems for us than we already have.¡±


    ¡°What problems are those?¡± I laced my words with what little sweetness I could.


    The chef¡¯s bulbous lips clammed shut. His beady amber eyes glared at me, then he turned away again.


    I considered pressing further, but decided against it. I didn¡¯t want to annoy the person responsible for my meals. At least¡­ not too much. Besides, there were other ways for me to learn what I wanted to know.


    ¡°The cravings should disappear by the end of the month at most. Gods, I¡¯ve seen enough of you little tragedies to learn more than I cared to know about that. Now, get out of my kitchen!¡±


    I scuttled out and continued down the corridor with the bowl secured tight against my chest. I was careful not to allow any of it to spill. It didn¡¯t take long for me to reach my favourite spot to eat. Two doors down, along the corridor on the left and into a small, almost forgotten chamber. It was a cramped room that was often abandoned. A small, empty bookshelf leaned against the packed dirt of the right-hand wall. A table and three-legged stool occupied the middle of the room. I placed my bowl on the table beside an abandoned candlestick holder for a moment and grabbed the stool. After dragging it beside one of the supporting beams, I reclaimed my porridge with my bony fingers and sat with my ear pressed against the beam.


    Nothing. Nothing yet, at least.


    Can¡¯t win every time, Cat.


    I pushed aside my disappointment and started to shovel the porridge into my mouth. It was no longer scalding and had started to become gloopy, but satisfied me regardless.


    My spoon froze halfway between the bowl and my mouth as a tremor passed through the roof above me.


    Yes!


    Maybe I could win every time. A light sprinkle of dust fell into my porridge, but I ignored it in my excitement. I pressed my ear so hard against the beam that I¡¯d swear it left an indent. I¡¯d discovered this spot by chance. The roof was thin and by pressing my ear against one of the beams I could hear the talk above.


    By sheer happenstance, the room above happened to be the room that the two heroes leading the rebellion often used for their meetings. Aethelred and Mabli. I¡¯d almost fallen over in surprise the first time I¡¯d heard them speaking. Then I¡¯d worried that I¡¯d be caught for listening in, only for nothing to come of it. They were not the only heroes in the rebellion, only the two most important ones.


    I¡¯d been told there were ten in total, but I didn¡¯t know where the others were.


    Hopefully, I could learn more by eavesdropping.


    I¡¯d never encountered Aethelred or Mabli face to face, either ¡ª let alone any of the other eight ¡ª but I was still eager to catch every word that I could.


    These scout reports must be wrong.


    Why?


    The local administrators have been pulled out of Laure.


    We¡¯ve been causing trouble for over a season now, Mabli. The Empire has to be bleeding.


    I snorted at that. The idea of the rebellion having done enough to destabilize the Legion so far was stupid even to me. We would have won decades ago if it was this easy.


    It makes no sense. We¡¯ve lost every clash with the Legions.


    It¡¯s time we¡¯re due a windfall then.


    The two heroes always bickered whenever I eavesdropped on their discussions. I wasn¡¯t sure that I liked either of them. Listening to Mabli was like listening to the growl of my empty stomach, but after living on the streets, I felt that she had a better idea of the situation. Aethelred, however, was actually born in Callow. He truly fought for us.


    Mabli was from Daoine and I didn¡¯t like many of her ideas. It wasn¡¯t that there was anything I could point out that was wrong about them, but¡­ it often felt like she was missing something.


    That isn¡¯t how it works, Aeth. The Black Knight doesn¡¯t just owe us a victory because we¡¯ve been losing for so long.


    Ever the eternal pessimist. What do you think is happening?


    Silence fell. I finished off my porridge while I waited for a response. A splinter pricked at my ear. I stifled the urge to swear.


    I don¡¯t know, but it¡¯s part of a longer game. Every warehouse we¡¯ve hit has been empty. Every. Single. One.


    ¡°Listening to those two squabble cut¡¯s deep, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    I tightened my grip on the beam and almost jumped off the stool.


    ¡°Would it kill you to knock?¡± I hissed at Sullivan.


    The sixteen-year-old was leaning with his arms folded at the doorway against the packed dirt wall. Sullivan always kept to himself. It was hard to learn more about him as a person. I¡¯d learned more about him since arriving by talking to others. He was one of the squires who had been hiding away at Marchford. He had escaped before the last rebellion had been squashed, only to end up here.


    ¡°Sometimes.¡±


    He sounded amused.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have thought you¡¯d need to listen in.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not important enough to weigh in.¡±


    Both of us spoke in furtive whispers. Sullivan walked over and rested an ear against the beam, while resting a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off irritably.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯d appreciate you listening in then.¡±


    I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. A sense that somebody was staring at me.


    Right, I¡¯m doing the same.


    ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who doesn¡¯t like being kept in the dark and fed shit.¡±


    I sent a brief grin of shared understanding his way. It was frustrating not knowing anything. Both of us lapsed into silence as the heroes began to speak once again.


    The roof above my head shook as Mabli stomped her boots.


    Not every warehouse. Think about the textiles we raided two weeks ago.


    All the important ones.


    This was never going to be easy, Mabli.


    You don¡¯t get it. That many warehouses, that many foundries, that many legion stockpiles can¡¯t all be empty. They simply can¡¯t be. There¡¯s nowhere else to store the goods. We hit places then either win very little, or not at all, or it''s a complete slaughter. There¡¯s still no word on where the Black Knight is, so we can¡¯t challenge him to a fight, and now the city administrators are being pulled out as well. Something about this is rotten.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It¡¯s not like we¡¯re short on arms. Every other family has weapons hidden under their bed, just waiting for us to give the call.


    That¡¯s not what it¡¯s about, and you know it, Aeth. Beating the Legions is going to take more than just hopes and dreams. We need to harry them, take away their weapons and give people a cause to rally to.


    I keep telling you, you¡¯re so focused on the Legions that you¡¯re not seeing the bigger picture. If we don¡¯t give the call, then sooner or later we lose anyway. We¡¯ll be nothing but Praesi citizens with a lighter shade of skin in a decade. We¡¯ll have forgotten our knights, our nobles, our stories, our traditions. Everything that makes us Callow and not Praes.


    We need a proper win first for your plans to amount to more than an empty whiff.


    And so you¡¯d have us scramble about in the dirt some more. You¡¯re letting them play us for fools.


    Better than your idiotic idea of trying to call up an army with no way to feed them, or trying to challenge the Black Knight to a duel. We can barely feed what we already have!


    It¡¯s worked in the past. One good cavalry charge from behind should be enough to do them all in. The Praesi always fall for that.


    Sullivan snorted.


    What gives you the idea that the Black Knight would agree to a duel.


    ¡°What do you think of our illustrious leaders?¡± Sullivan drawled.


    ¡°They¡¯ve always been like this?¡±


    ¡°Ever since I¡¯ve joined up.¡±


    ¡°Somebody needs to beat the shit out of them.¡±


    ¡°Whatever hammer you used would break first.¡±


    I snorted.


    ¡°We¡¯ll keep digging this hole deeper if somebody clever doesn¡¯t storm into that room sooner or later and pull their heads out of their asses.¡±


    ¡°Sounds about as likely to happen as me rising from the grave.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got one idiot who thinks the Black Knight is going to accept a duel, and another who wants to try to unite Callow by scheming like a Proceran.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s sheer idiocy,¡± Sullivan agreed. ¡°What do you think they should do?¡±


    I was about to respond when the heroes started to speak again. Both of us shut our mouths.


    What we really need to do is kill one of the Calamities.


    It would give people something to rally around, Aeth, but none of them have been seen in a while.


    Tell me what you think, then?


    I think this is part of some kind of trap. It doesn¡¯t make sense otherwise. Only, I can¡¯t see how Praes benefits by pulling out the administrators when they¡¯ve got us dead to rights.


    I think that the chaos in Praes has become so bad that he can¡¯t afford to keep Laure occupied. He¡¯ll pull the Legion out next, just you wait and see.


    Perhaps you¡¯re right. I heard that there is a goblin uprising in Foramen.


    We¡¯ll need to wait for word from the latest merchants before we can be more certain.


    ¡°They have fourteen Legions of Terror. That¡¯s more than enough to keep the goblins busy with some still to spare,¡± I grumbled.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think a goblin uprising is enough to pull them away?¡±


    ¡°Definitely not.¡±


    I think it¡¯s going to be ugly, Aeth. Mark my words. We should do everything we can. Prepare the kids. Teach them how to fight as well.


    I tensed. This was my chance. I didn¡¯t want to be stuck doing chores. I could really contribute if this change to the rules was approved.


    Sullivan grunted beside me.


    ¡°What?¡± I challenged. ¡°Don¡¯t approve of me fighting, either?¡±


    ¡°Learning to fight¡¯s smart,¡± he denied. ¡°It¡¯s not a good time to be out and about without knowing how to.¡±


    I was halfway to raising my next point of argumentation against him when I realized what it was that he said.


    ¡°Then why did you push back against me joining?¡±


    ¡°Needed to be sure that you really wanted it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not dead weight.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t say you were.¡±


    Both of us lapsed into silence.


    This again? We¡¯re not going to make soldiers out of our own children, Mabli.


    They¡¯re part of this. None of this stupid camp follower business that you insist on.


    It¡¯s not right. Just because they¡¯re a drain on our resources doesn¡¯t-


    This isn¡¯t about the cost of taking care of them. We¡¯re doing that regardless, spread across every compound. It¡¯s about the fact that they¡¯ll die if they¡¯re found out.


    Would She be happy with us if we made them soldiers?


    I scowled.


    She is not here. She is in Procer. She has abandoned us. We¡¯re here.


    If we have to go that far in order to win, then we¡¯ve already lost.


    The Black Knight isn¡¯t going to stop from executing them just because they don¡¯t know their way around a blade.


    The two of them continued to argue, but I couldn¡¯t hear it over the frustration that simmered deep in my gut. It was so¡­so¡­ ugh, I didn¡¯t know the word. Just, to have them talk about me as if I couldn¡¯t decide this for myself. I doubted the Black Knight would spare me if he found where I was hiding. He would kill me anyway. I didn¡¯t want to be coddled and treated like a kid by the rebellion when the Dread Empire wouldn¡¯t do the same.


    I stabbed at the empty bowl with my spoon in annoyance.


    There was no telling how long it would take until Aethelred changed his mind. There was no telling if he would change his mind. I couldn¡¯t afford to wait on him to come to his senses. I needed to find a teacher of my own, before the rebel hideouts were found, and I was killed because I was defenceless.


    But who?


    It was only after the noise above ceased ¡ª and the heroes left ¡ª that the obvious occurred to me.


    Sullivan had been a squire. That meant he would¡¯ve been given proper training. He¡¯d know his way around a weapon better than most of the rebellion. I just needed to convince him that I was worth his time.


    ¡°Teach me,¡± I demanded.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you need my help delivering messages,¡± he stated drily.


    ¡°You can teach me to deliver a different kind of message,¡± I challenged.


    ¡°The rebellion not living up to your hopes?¡±


    ¡°Not when the leaders expect me to roll over and die rather than pick up a weapon.¡±


    ¡°No faith in our leaders?¡±


    ¡°I want to do something, not leave winning up to everyone else. You could teach me.¡±


    ¡°Do I look like a knight to you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re built like one.¡±


    Sullivan grunted again. He pulled back from the beam and started walking towards the door.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give as good as I get, and I¡¯m twice as nasty as anyone else you¡¯ll meet. I¡¯ll bring you meals, polish your shoes and listen to whatever shit you spout if that¡¯s what it takes to convince you to train me,¡± I scowled, ¡°I¡¯ll even take care of your horse and call you sir if you want.¡±


    It was an easy offer to make. As far as I knew, Sullivan didn¡¯t have a horse.


    Sullivan halted.


    ¡°Down the corridor on the left, four rooms along from where you sleep, two hours before curfew.¡±


    ¡°You were just waiting for me to offer things, you asshole.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be late, Catherine.¡±


    I left the room and returned the bowl to the kitchen, then started my duties for the day. Messenger work. I brightened. It was the least frustrating out of the assigned chores.


    Messenger duties were both repetitive and varied. There was also a small amount of excitement to them. It felt like I was doing something. The procedure was always the same, but the destination differed almost every time. I was given a sequence of numbers to memorize, which I¡¯d been told were some kind of code. Then I was given a list of destinations, before being blindfolded, taken outdoors and led to a dropoff point. There were agreed upon places for us to meet once we were done before being guided back into the shelter.


    None of us saw the other compounds. All communication was spoken, and done between middlemen. I wasn¡¯t sure who had set it all up, but whichever hero was responsible for this mess had made a lot of work for everyone else.


    The day ended, and I felt dead on my feet, but my mind was sharper than Goblin Steel. It wasn¡¯t long before I¡¯d polished off my dinner and was heading towards the meeting place. Despite the room being larger than most of the others, it was bare. There I met Sullivan. I shut the door behind me. He had a pair of blunted swords leaning on the wall to his left and two shields on his right.


    ¡°Seems a little pointless to have so much empty space.¡±


    ¡°People used to sleep here.¡±


    I quietened at that.


    "If that''s the case, then why can''t the rest of us have more room to sleep."


    "They''re too busy fighting over other things."


    That sounded about right from what I''d seen, as upsetting as it was.


    ¡°So,¡± I said jovially in an attempt to revive the mood, ¡°teach me swordsmanship.¡±


    ¡°Call me sir,¡± he said with amusement.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You offered to.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Sir,¡± I stated insincerely.


    ¡°Good. Now, I¡¯m not going to teach you swordsmanship.¡±


    ¡°That seems a little counter-productive.¡±


    There was an awkward moment of silence.


    ¡°Sir.¡±


    He chuckled.


    ¡°Tell me what you want to do, Catherine. Do you want to learn a noble¡¯s sport, or do you want to learn something else?¡±


    I licked my lips while I considered the question.


    ¡°I want to learn how to fight.¡±


    No, that wasn¡¯t it. I needed to go further than that if I wanted Callow to be free. I needed a release, some way to share my anger with the people who¡¯d bled my nation dry.


    ¡°I want to learn how to kill.¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± I added as an afterthought.


    ¡°Good. The two most important parts of any kind of fighting are distance and footwork. You¡¯re going to have to learn both if you want to kill people.¡± He picked up a pair of blunted weapons and passed them to me. ¡°Shield¡¯s up!¡± he barked.


    The weight of both was surprisingly heavy, but I did my best to raise the shield. It wouldn¡¯t have been a problem if it wasn¡¯t for my time on the streets.


    ¡°You¡¯re right-handed,¡± he said, ¡°so your left hip and leg should be braced against the back of the shield. Otherwise, you¡¯re open.¡±


    I adjusted the shield. His sword whipped out fast. Faster than my eye could follow. The tip of the blunted weapon came to rest on my throat.


    ¡°Dead,¡± he said simply.


    I swallowed.


    I tried again. Squared my shoulders and raised my shield. My entire body trembled as the upper edge came all the way up to my chin.


    Once more, the blade whipped out. Once more, it touched against my throat.


    He frowned, ¡°you¡¯re going to need to put some muscle on those bones. Again.¡±


    I adjusted once more.


    ¡°That¡¯s better. Now, for the sword. Grasp the grip and press forward as you lift it out.¡±


    ¡°This is unwieldy. I can¡¯t slash this way, sir.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to. Infantry fight in lines, not one on one in duels.¡±


    ¡°Then what if I do, sir?¡± I blurted out.


    ¡°What if you do what?¡±


    ¡°End up fighting someone one on one, sir.¡±


    This sirring is already annoying. Can I make some kind of joke out of it?


    ¡°Then you¡¯ve probably done something stupid.¡±


    ¡°With respect, sir, I¡¯m more likely to end up cornered in a duel than allowed into the rebel infantry. I don¡¯t even think we have an infantry.¡±


    ¡°Point,¡± Sullivan grunted, ¡°there are a few things you need to know. The first is simple. There¡¯s nothing fancy about making corpses.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    I dropped the sir. There was a pause, before Sullivan continued to speak.


    ¡°Don¡¯t overplay your hand. Don¡¯t go for dramatic thrusts or one hit kills that leave an opening. Keep within your guard. Land twenty small cuts and allow your enemy to bleed out. Remember, it doesn¡¯t matter how they die, only that they¡¯re dead.¡±


    I looked down at my sweating body, then looked up at Sullivan and raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Think I¡¯ll collapse before I wore anyone down,¡± I told him drily.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to recover first,¡± he allowed.


    Sullivan continued to tutor me until half an hour before curfew. I left exhausted, but with a smile on my face. Learning to fight was exhilarating. It wasn¡¯t the same as being allowed to help the rebellion, but at least I felt better about what might happen should a fight come to me.


    I still had a long way to go. It would take much more practice before I felt confident that I could hold my own.


    Now I only needed to find a way to contribute. One that I felt mattered. I¡¯d make sure to do so with or without the approval of the heroes. I couldn¡¯t afford to wait. Callow was falling apart so fast that there wouldn¡¯t be a Callow in another five years if nothing improved.


    I wasn¡¯t willing to allow myself to be set aside in the defence of my own home.

 Perdition 6.02

    ¡°They always warn you that one day the ghosts of your past will come back to haunt you. I didn¡¯t expect the execution to be quite so literal.¡±


    ¡ª Last stand of Dread Empress Massacre.


    <hr>


    I don¡¯t know what you expect, Mabli.


    I expect you to think, Aeth.


    You always say that when you have news that I won¡¯t like.


    The harvest was particularly good this year.


    Doesn¡¯t mean anything for us. The Empire took what they usually taxed, then paid extra for as much as they could without starving the city on top of that.


    Think about what that means. I don¡¯t even need to use Forecast to tell you that this is part of some bigger plot, Aeth. If we act now, it will come back to bite us later.


    So it¡¯s another no for a major raid, then. Morale is flagging.


    We can¡¯t just storm the palace and expect no resistance.


    People are losing their faith in us.


    Complaints don¡¯t make your ideas any better.


    If we don¡¯t get a big win soon, the rebellion will fall apart. Even us heroes fight among each other.


    Go find that friend of yours and work out your frustration. Either in a spar or between the sheets.


    That doesn¡¯t solve any of our problems, Mabli.


    It¡¯s not all grim. The city is slowly falling apart as the Black Knight pulls out his officials. He was last seen in Foramen, contending with the goblin uprising. Furthermore, not only is the Watch willing to support us, but we¡¯ve made contact with malcontents in other parts of Callow. They¡¯re just as eager to push back the occupation as we are. Step by step, we¡¯re winning, even if it doesn¡¯t feel that way. You¡¯ll see.


    That eagerness doesn¡¯t amount to anything if we never choose to act!


    Leave the thinking to me, Aeth.


    It hasn¡¯t worked out so far.


    Why- How dare you! Every day is another day I spend sparring against the Eyes of the Empire. I¡¯ve built up our little rebellion. Kept us going on a budget that couldn¡¯t buy half a loaf of bread. All you¡¯ve done is-


    I pulled away from the beam and picked up the musty old book on my lap. I slammed it shut with more force than necessary, then stiffened.


    Hurriedly, I set my ear back against the wood.


    Is this it, then? Is today the day we split?


    I- no, Mabli. It isn¡¯t. But perhaps we sh-


    I breathed out. Good, they hadn¡¯t heard me.


    I set the leather-bound book back on the shelf to my left. Sullivan had told me there was a chance people would become suspicious if I didn¡¯t look like I was busy while I was here. So I¡¯d asked around for a book to read and ended up with a copy of the Book of All Things. I¡¯d been tempted to ask for something more useful, but refrained from doing so.


    It wasn¡¯t as if praying would help us escape our predicament.


    Three months.


    Three whole months of the same godforsaken arguments, and in that time nothing had changed. Aethelred ¡ª the Faithful Warrior ¡ª and Mabli ¡ª the Reluctant Strategist ¡ª continued to bicker, but never came to an agreement on anything.


    Well, nothing that I considered important to me, at least.


    The heroes had split into two different groups. Half followed the Faithful Warrior, and the other half listened to the Reluctant Strategist. More mistakes were made on missions. Different rebel groups tripped each other up.


    There had been a whispered undercurrent speaking of desertion that even the orphans had picked up on.


    It was not all discouraging news. Kids had been allotted more duties. The Faithful Warrior had caved in to some of the Reluctant Strategist¡¯s demands, and we were now also used to scout. That had come with lessons which I¡¯d barely benefitted from.


    Living on the streets had taught me all that I needed to know about how to watch out for trouble.


    Sullivan was often away on missions and thus unable to tutor me every evening. I was forced to do my best on my own. Hearing him regale me about the rate of success of those excursions when he was around was disheartening. His missions weren¡¯t any less successful than others, but there wasn¡¯t much in the way of meaningful victory either.


    Maybe we¡¯d have a lick of a chance if our leadership wasn¡¯t so useless.


    I snuffed out the candle on the desk beside me, picked up my bowl and padded out of the room. I dropped the bowl off in the makeshift kitchen, then headed through for whatever task I¡¯d been assigned for the day.


    Messenger work.


    It was my favourite duty. It didn¡¯t take long for me to deliver whatever it was I needed to deliver to whoever it was that needed to receive it if I took the right detours. That left me with some time to wander off on my own before I was expected anywhere else. Scouting allowed the same freedom on paper, but in reality involved a fair amount of standing in one place.


    ¡°Now, little Cat, don¡¯t go running off with one of your new ideas,¡± my minder admonished as she pulled the blindfold off.


    I turned towards her, looking up and blinking as my eyes adjusted to the light.


    ¡°Somebody should outlaw being so tall.¡±


    The blindfold didn¡¯t do much. It hadn¡¯t taken me long to discover the locations of more than a few safe houses. Even with multiple exits and dropoff points, they couldn¡¯t send us far away from the safe houses without someone noticing the oddity of the blindfolds. Being located within otherwise abandoned parts of the city only earned the rebellion so much leeway in this regard.


    I doubted that I was the only orphan who had figured that out.


    Not that I bothered to speak to the others much.


    It was just another example of how the rebellion¡¯s current leadership was unable to achieve anything significant.


    ¡°You¡¯re more trouble than most,¡± Cassandra harrumphed, brushing her vomit yellow hair out of her dirt-brown eyes.


    ¡°Our fearless leaders thought that scouting was smart,¡± I defended.


    ¡°And that every other idea of yours was terrible,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from them.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d make an awful hero with your attitude,¡± Cassandra snorted.


    I bristled and gave her a glare.


    ¡°It¡¯s not hard to beat our current lot.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really. What kind of hero would you be then?¡±


    ¡°A Knight or a Squire.¡±


    The new kinds of heroes hadn¡¯t lived up to their fancy Names. I would rather be one of the old ones. Those Names had a proven track record of success.


    ¡°You seem more of a nosy little Thief to me,¡± she drawled, then bopped me with a chubby finger on the nose.


    I exchanged a few more barbs with Cassandra before scampering off.


    Thoughts of desertion plagued me. Three months of doing nothing. I hungered to make a difference, to act, to do anything other than sitting on my hands.


    Was today the day that I left the rebellion?


    Was today the day I tried to start a new rebellion?


    Was today the day that I tried to do everything alone?


    Memories of my time on the street came back to me.


    ¡­ No.


    As much as I hated to admit it, I didn¡¯t think that I would be able to survive another winter on my own.


    That didn¡¯t make the thought any less tempting.


    It wasn¡¯t as if I had any real friends among the rebellion.


    I ducked and weaved my way towards one of the many open plazas frequented by traders on the Marketside of Laure. They were often used as a place for chance meetings between different rebel groups. I took faster, riskier routes, skirting the territory of more than one den of thieves in an effort to save time. Message for a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker.


    On and on it went.


    One more message delivered. Then the next. Then the next. I¡¯d long since given up on trying to make sense of them. It wasn¡¯t like it mattered. I¡¯d heard enough to know that we weren¡¯t going to fight any time soon.


    It wasn¡¯t long until I was finished with delivering my messages. The bricks were scorching from the harsh rays of the late summer noonday sun, but the blistered soles of my feet had long grown used to the mistreatment. I ignored their complaints in favour of doing something for myself. There was an hour or two before I was expected to return. Plenty of time for me to snoop around places where I hoped something interesting might occur.


    Maybe I¡¯d learn something important.


    Perhaps then I¡¯d be able to help.


    The past few years hadn¡¯t been kind to the sprawling avenues of Whitestone that marked the way to the noble district. Tall walls had been erected around the more expensive houses and guildhalls. A thick, crusted outer layer of paint peeled itself off the barriers. They had been defaced and repainted so many times that I wasn¡¯t sure if there was more paint than wall. I wasn¡¯t sure why they made the effort. Everyone knew of the cracks in the masonry hidden beneath the surface.


    It felt as if they were putting paint on a goat and calling it a horse.


    An unknown tune graced my lips as I searched for something significant.


    I was halfway towards the palace when I heard it.


    Scrape.


    Clank.


    Scrape.


    Clank.


    I glanced around for somewhere to hide. My eyes settled on one of the nearby hedges that had grown wild from inattention. I darted under the cover to wait. It was probably the noble¡¯s guards, clad in their usual polished mail shirts. They had their own watch separate to the rest of the city that liked to catch and beat girls like me who had funny ideas like snooping around the nobility. Well, it wasn¡¯t just me. They beat anyone who didn¡¯t wear clothes that cost more than three months room and board. Assholes.


    A moment later and my breath hitched.


    It turned out that I was wrong.


    Clad from head to toe in menacing black plate, the Legions of Terror marched their way down the avenue.


    What are they up to?


    I waited until the sound of their boots faded away before trailing furtively behind at a distance. I did my best to remain in the shadows, but there wasn¡¯t much point to it. The streets were deserted. The Legion cut a straight path through the city, then marched through the open portcullis out of the city walls.


    Long forgotten words whispered from the dusty shelves of my memories.


    He''ll pull the Legion out next, just you wait and see.


    The Faithful Warrior had said as much, and yet even seeing it happen I was doubtful. What was the benefit of this? The rebellion was collapsing ¡ª as much as I hated to admit it ¡ª and the Dread Empire was winning this joke of a civil war. There wasn¡¯t a good reason for them to retreat.


    Either way, this was a change of pace. I¡¯d finally learned something of worth. If I moved fast enough, perhaps I could deliver the news before anyone else? I smiled at the thought.


    I looked up at the sky as the last of the Legions passed through the open portcullis. Drat. My shoulders slumped. There wasn¡¯t much time. Being late meant listening to another dull lecture from one of the few sisters that were hiding out with the rebellion. They never missed a chance to drone at me, it didn¡¯t matter what news I returned with.


    I legged it towards the gathering point with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. I didn¡¯t bother with subtlety, considering that the Legions had already left. The guards might cause me trouble if they caught me, but they didn¡¯t normally risk visiting Lakeside. Those that did, ended up with a red smile carved into their necks. It wasn¡¯t long before I was back within the relative safety of the run-down buildings and didn¡¯t need to worry about them breathing down my neck.


    The sound of a scream brought my to a halt.


    That was Cassandra.


    I tensed.


    What should I do? What would a hero do? I wanted to be a hero, and a hero would try to help.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    I looked around for something to use as a weapon. One of the many rocks? No, the reach was awful. My eyes passed over a shattered window frame and a loose plank. Neither made for an acceptable weapon. The first was liable to see me cut up with splinters, and the second was too unwieldy to fight with for someone of a proper stature. I spotted a broken pole resting against one of the walls. It looked like it had once been used to suspend a tent, but for now it was good enough.


    I seized the pole and started to sprint towards the noise, with the pointy end positioned away from me to my right and tilted towards the ground. Sullivan would never let me hear the end of it if I accidentally impaled myself.


    Down one more street, then round the corner to the meeting point.


    I halted.


    ¡°Stop fighting,¡± the gruff voice of a man with sergeant¡¯s stripes complained, ¡°it¡¯ll be over much faster if you don¡¯t resist. Less messy as well.¡±


    The man was broad shouldered, towering at least two heads taller than me, with black hair tied up in a neat ponytail hanging over his shoulder. He had Cassandra pressed up against the wall of a nearby building, with both of her wrists grasped tight above her head in one of his meaty hands.


    She let out another shriek.


    ¡°Get off of me, the Legions won¡¯t-¡±


    Step.


    Step.


    Light on my feet, I was careful not to rest my soles on any of the rubble. Cassandra spotted me over the man¡¯s shoulders. Her brown eyes widened. Her cheeks were red and splotchy.


    Cassandra¡¯s hair danced as she shook her head vigorously from one side to the other.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear,¡± he laughed, ¡°the Legions cut out and left today. Now shut it, there¡¯s nobody around to hear your-¡±


    I gripped the pole in both arms and swung, putting my full body weight into the motion. It slammed into his head.


    Crack!


    It jolted forwards into the wall.


    There was a dull thud.


    ¡°What the-¡± he growled and spat dirt out of his mouth.


    I stepped back ¡ª doing my best to keep my breathing measured ¡ª and prepared to swing once more.


    The air whistled as the pole hurtled towards him.


    He turned, dropping Cassandra to the ground as he did so.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to pay for that, you little shit.¡±


    His palm came up and caught the pole within his hand. The other reached towards his sword.


    I released the pole.


    The man stumbled.


    I darted forward. Moving in close was a terrible idea, but I didn¡¯t have a better choice. I couldn¡¯t let him draw the sword.


    His other hand changed targets and swung towards me. I ducked low, only for his left knee to send me sprawling to the ground. Small chips of rubble dug into my back. The pole came down, then shattered into a shower of splinters against the dusty stone floor.


    I felt a sharp sting in my right leg as one of them tore a hole through my grey cotton trousers. I winced, then pushed the pain aside.


    A boot headed towards my face.


    I rolled to the side, only for the other boot to miss taking me in the gut by only the width of a hair.


    I let out a shaky breath.


    ¡°Get away from her, you monster, she¡¯s only a kid!¡± Cassandra shrieked, shoving the guard from behind.


    The sergeant stumbled, letting out a ragged breath. He turned and swung. There was a harsh crack as his hand slapped Cassandra against the face. She staggered backwards and slammed into the broken wall behind her with blood trailing from her mouth.


    ¡°She interfered where she shouldn¡¯t be. Can¡¯t have her live to talk now, can I?¡±


    I darted forward and grabbed at the sword sheathed within the scabbard hanging from his belt.


    I pulled.


    It didn¡¯t come loose.


    I tugged a second time, desperate.


    The damn thing was jammed inside tighter than a newly minted merchant¡¯s purse.


    Cassandra let out another scream.


    The sergeant grabbed my right arm. My heart thundered.


    ¡°Got you now. I¡¯ll see th-¡±


    I twisted, dropped low and shoved against him with my shoulder. Even with the extra muscle I¡¯d packed on in the time since I¡¯d joined the rebellion, it still felt like pushing against iron. My other hand came up and jabbed him hard in the ribs. He grunted and loosened his grip. I twisted again. My grey cotton shirt tore, but I still broke free of the hold.


    A weapon.


    I needed a weapon.


    My eyes fell upon the broken splinters of the pole. I scrambled across the floor towards them.


    I let out a yelp as the heel of a boot took me in the back, sending me sprawling across the floor. There was another slap behind me, then another shriek. I spared a brief glance over my shoulder. The sergeant had struck Cassandra once more.


    I took a measured breath, seized one of the arm-length splinters in the palm of my hand, then stood with it positioned behind my back.


    The sergeant let out a laboured breath and turned his attention my way.


    There was a scraping noise as his blade came loose of the scabbard.


    Step by step I retreated.


    It was not looking promising.


    Step by step, he cornered me.


    He darted forward and thrust with his blade. I evaded, seeking shelter behind the broken wall of a collapsed building. Sparks sprayed as the blade clanked against the masonry.


    He thrust once more.


    I dodged.


    I could feel the heartbeats shave off my lifespan as the blade nicked my earlobe. He pulled back, tried to swing, I ran beneath his guard then kicked backwards, sending him sprawling towards the ground.


    His grip loosened on the blade.


    I turned, and scrambled towards it. My fingers seized the handle, only for the man to tackle me to the ground. The blade clattered against the floor.


    It felt like I was buried beneath an ox.


    I twisted, tried to escape his grip once again. The blue of his eyes met my own.


    His left hand came up and squeezed my throat. His right leg came down upon my stomach, pinning me further.


    I let out a hacking cough.


    ¡°Anything you want to say before I stick you like a pig?¡± he grunted out.


    Flecks of spittle landed on my face. The man¡¯s breath smelled worse than the local fisher monger.


    His eyes drifted away from me. His right hand released me. He reached towards the sword.


    The splinter!


    ¡°Yes,¡± I choked out.


    He ignored my reply and leaned over further.


    With one last heave, I jerked upwards. There was a sickening squelch as I slammed the splinter through his eye.


    He reeled backwards, roared, released my throat.


    The sword clattered to the ground again.


    I took a hacking breath and wasted no time, grabbing it by the handle, then thrust the blade towards his heart. There was little resistance from his leather armour before the edge carved through his flesh.


    ¡°I wonder what your friends will think when they hear you got done in by a twelve-year-old girl,¡± I hissed, before pulling the blade loose and scrambling backwards.


    The man gave his best effort to catch me, but even he knew that his end drew near. I watched as he cupped his hand against his chest. I watched as blood seeped through his armour and matted itself against his fingertips. I watched, even as his breath became ragged.


    As he groaned.


    As his eyes clouded over.


    There was a dull thud as his corpse full to the floor.


    The fight was over.


    ¡°Cat. Are ¡ª are you okay?¡± she spoke to me in a low voice, making soft, soothing noises.


    Shoulder¡¯s tense and muscles at the ready, I swung the sword towards Cassandra, before realizing who it was.


    ¡°Careful, it¡¯s me!¡± she yelped.


    ¡°It¡¯s not murder if he was going to kill us first, right?¡± I laughed.


    She stared at me as if I was a wild animal. I hunched my shoulders.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s our biggest worry,¡± she let out a strangled laugh in response, ¡°come on, let¡¯s head back.¡±


    She reached towards me and laid her palm over the back of my hand. I felt a tug on my fingertips. I released the blade into her care with some reluctance.


    ¡°What about the other kids?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already returned them. You were late again, so I had to come back and wait around.¡±


    There was something off about how she spoke. I wasn¡¯t sure what. Maybe she was worried about me?


    ¡°I promise that I¡¯m fine.¡±


    Cassandra gave me a look, then grabbed my hand and led me away. No more words were said.


    ¡°No blindfold?¡± the guard asked at the basement trapdoor.


    ¡°We need to speak to one of them,¡± Cassandra said cryptically.


    ¡°Some kind of scuffle, then?¡± his muddy brown eyes pierced me.


    Another frown.


    ¡°She killed someone who tried to assault me,¡± she replied.


    ¡°The man was asking for it,¡± I insisted.


    The guard clammed shut.


    It seemed that was enough to satisfy the brute¡¯s curiosity.


    We passed from one group of people within the hideout to another. At some point, the two of us were separated.


    Looks kept being directed my way.


    My fingers kept grasping around an imaginary hilt.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I found myself in a room I¡¯d never seen before. Documents were piled into neat stacks on shelves to either side. A desk with four chairs around it occupied the centre of the space. A map of the city was pinned to the surface of it.


    Two figures stood on the opposite side.


    One of them beckoned me closer.


    I found myself standing in the towering shadow of a broad faced man with golden hair that flowed like the finest of silk threads. There was a woman standing beside him. Later, I was told that she was only a few years older than me.


    My first impression of her said otherwise.


    She looked far, far older than that. Almost as if she was in her late fifties. Her face was creased with lines and wrinkles, and a bone deep weariness had embedded itself within the grey of her eyes.


    They were the heroes.


    The ones I¡¯d been listening in on.


    ¡°Let me take a look at you kid. Come on, I don¡¯t have all day,¡± the Reluctant Strategist snapped.


    ¡°So you¡¯re here to kill me?¡±


    Her eyebrows rose.


    ¡°Kid, what gave you that impression,¡± she raised a palm, ¡°you know what, no, don¡¯t tell me. Just come closer.¡±


    I did as she asked. She seized my palms in her own wrinkled hands and gazed deep into my eyes. A prickling sensation ran down my spine. I felt like an onion that was having its layers peeled away. The Reluctant Strategist gasped, then fell back into her chair. She looked as if she¡¯d aged another month.


    ¡°Now that that bout of paranoia is over,¡± she growled, ¡°I can confirm that she isn¡¯t spying on us for the Black Knight. She is, however, earning a Name.¡±


    ¡°I am?¡± I blurted out.


    My shoulders loosened.


    ¡°You are,¡± she confirmed.


    ¡°Can you tell me what it is?¡± I asked, smiling at her.


    ¡°No. Only that if events proceed apace, you should have it sometime within the next year.¡±


    ¡°Are you certain?¡± The strangled words came from the Faithful Warrior.


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± she turned towards him. ¡°Well, what do you say now? Even when you try to keep the kids out of the fight, they still end up involved.¡±


    Words were exchanged beyond that, but I didn¡¯t pay attention to them. I was too excited. A Name, I was finally earning a Name.


    All I remembered was that the two of them argued over whether there was a way to keep me uninvolved. The Faithful Warrior put up a token resistance before giving in. The Reluctant Strategist seemed satisfied at her victory. She¡¯d convinced him that there was no ending my involvement in the parts of the rebellion involving combat when I¡¯d already started to earn a Name.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I was escorted out of the room.


    Cassandra was there waiting for me. I told her the news. She gave me a tight smile, but there was nothing happy about it.


    All at once, the energy bled out of me.


    I let out a ragged gasp, my shoulders loosened.


    Cassandra said something.


    She spoke again.


    I didn¡¯t hear what she said.


    There was a numbness to me.


    Cassandra led me gently by the hand towards a room with proper bedding. She left soon afterwards. It was a different room. It wasn¡¯t the room that I shared with the other orphans.


    Memories of the fight came back to me. Was killing always like this? Was death always like this? So tense in one moment, then nothing only a few hours later. Life, gutted out like nothing more than a candle in a storm. I felt as if there should be more to it. More than just the aches and pains wracking my body, or the faint echo of a handle grasped tight within my fingertips.


    I left the room and began to wander.


    It didn¡¯t surprise me when I found myself in the room that I used to practice with Sullivan. There was nothing to see from one side to the other. The room was still bare. I sat down on the empty floor. I didn¡¯t expect him to be there tonight, but that wasn¡¯t a problem.


    That room felt like the closest thing I had to a home.


    So I loitered there on the packed dirt floor, lost in my own thoughts.


    Sullivan arrived only a quarter of an hour later.


    ¡°Heard what happened,¡± he stated.


    ¡°Does it always feel like this?¡± I asked.


    There was a rustle of fabric as he sat down across from me.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to need to be more specific,¡± Sullivan replied drily.


    ¡°Killing. So tense, full of energy, then a numbness much later.¡±


    ¡°Only in battle. It¡¯s different if you make the decision cold.¡±


    ¡°Did I do the right thing?¡± I reached up and brushed my hair away from my eyes.


    ¡°What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel any regret¡­ remorse¡­ or anything. He was trying to hurt somebody. It¡¯s just that¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been told all your life that you should feel bad about it.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°And what do you think?¡±


    ¡°That somebody probably should¡¯ve stabbed him sooner.¡±


    Sullivan snorted.


    ¡°I¡¯d have made the same choice.¡±


    Oddly, that comforted me. Sullivan wasn¡¯t a friend exactly. He was closer to a mentor, but¡­ that wasn¡¯t quite right either. Most of the time, it was almost as if he echoed my own thoughts back to me. He wasn¡¯t around often enough for me to think of him as a proper teacher. He would give me a few pointers, but then left most of my learning to me alone.


    What he was, though, was somebody that I could relax around. He was funny and approached problems with a level of pragmatism that I could appreciate.


    We shared a few more words before I left for my new room.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I dozed off to sleep.


    The call to arms was given only a week later, and it was less than an hour before the palace was seized. The remaining guild members barely put up a fight. It didn¡¯t surprise me. The guards only put up a token resistance before surrendering. The guild members would have stood on their own if they chose to contest our claim.


    The quarrelling between the Faithful Warrior and the Reluctant Strategist had thankfully ceased in the aftermath.


    I was unsettled.


    For all that it was being touted as a rebel victory, everything about it tasted wrong to me. I felt as if there had to be a cost ¡ª a sacrifice ¡ª for it to be a victory.


    There had been no cost here.


    There had been no sacrifice.


    We hadn¡¯t won, we had been given a gift. Now all that remained to be seen was how long it took for the poison to set in after we¡¯d eaten our fill. At least I wasn¡¯t alone in those thoughts. While the others celebrated the victory, the Reluctant Strategist appeared as worried as I felt.


    And so as the celebrations died down, I stood upon one of the palace balconies and stared out into the distance. A gentle breeze rustled between the leaves of trees. The smell of lavender suffused the surrounding air. I allowed myself to be drawn into the moment, savouring it for what it was.


    There was a storm gathering somewhere beyond the horizon.


    I could sense it.

 Perdition 6.0a

    ¡°One can never be too meticulous when preparing in the face of the inevitable. Destiny¡¯s a funny thing. It loves to watch you trip over your own sword.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Terribilis I


    <hr>


    Amadeus watched the flames consuming the warehouse for a few more moments as the remaining rebels clashed with the Legions at the doors before he turned away.


    His black cloak didn¡¯t even stir.


    ¡°The target?¡±


    ¡°Took a blade through the heart,¡± Eudokia informed him from his right, ¡°I¡¯ll see that the corpse is thrown into the flames regardless.¡±


    The Eyes had identified an individual who they suspected could serve as a mediator within the rebel group. Mediators could not be allowed to survive.


    ¡°And the rebels?¡±


    ¡°Learned nothing about where we relocated the Goblin Fire.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    Only the dull roar of the flames occupied the silence for a few moments, before Amadeus spoke again.


    ¡°Are you certain that you can remain ahead of the Reluctant Strategist?¡±


    ¡°She is still new to her Name. The answer might change given another five years, but for now I remain several steps ahead.¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t survive the year.¡±


    ¡°Not if she keeps killing herself with that Aspect of hers,¡± Scribe agreed.


    ¡°The relocation?¡±


    ¡°Proceeds apace.¡±


    That meant that Marchford, Summerholme, Dormer and the border with Procer would be well provisioned before the season was out. There were some exceptions in terms of supplies. Goblin Fire was being recalled back to Praes. Both to deal with the expected conflict there and to prevent the growing rebellion from seizing it when his attention was once again turned east.


    There was an uneasy silence between factions within the Empire ever since Malicia had warned the other High Seats that Praes had received a Red Letter back during the reign of Nefarious. Black would have preferred to purge the nobility, but Alaya had asked him once again to stay his hand. Nobody knew how the machines the Mad Inventor was in the process of building operated. He hadn¡¯t left any schematics before he perished. It didn¡¯t matter. Everyone was aware of how calamitous its completion could have been. The threat posed by the gnomes was severe enough in the wake of the new Names to catch everyone¡¯s attention. The High Seats had turned their attention towards the Names sprouting up within their borders to ensure that it did not happen again.


    The High Seats were only pleased with the appearance of new villains when those villains were under their control. Many of those who now darkened their cities were not. It would be some time before order reasserted itself. Tasia Sahelian had gone so far as to announce Wolof was investigating potential solutions to the problem. Amadeus was certain he could already see the clouds of trouble blotting out the horizon when the cost of that solution was inevitably unveiled.


    The unspoken truce between factions could not last for long.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    There was another moment of silence then, followed by the dry rustling of her grey cloak.


    Amadeus marched away from the blaze.


    Eudokia stayed behind to ensure nothing was left undone.


    Assassin was left outside the burning warehouse, inscribed within the body of a former Squire at the site of the confrontation for several duties. The first duty was to act as bait for any potential stories that might follow on from the confrontation. Scribe had caught numerous potential heroes through a repeated application of the tactic, with careful variations to ensure it did not bait out other stories.


    The second duty was to continue serving its role within the rebellion. While Assassin was known for taking lives, it was far from the only task it was capable of with the right commands. Eudokia was using Assassin to encourage discord within the rebellion through both a web of subtle manipulations of mid level officers and the encouragement of villainous Names. Sabotage through internal politics, rather than through murder.


    Amadeus left the warehouses and halted beside the docks while he thought. A strong breeze from the lake scattered the smoke from the fire, sending it in all directions.


    The current rebellion was little more a spark in the wind, threatening to extinguish before catching alight. Two uprisings against the Empire had been suppressed since Liesse. The first was quelled outside Laure itself, the second was crushed in a pitched battle outside the walls of Marchford. Those battles had done much to cull those who would take up arms against the Empire. While it was true that at least half the beds in Callow still had a sword under them, it was also true that perhaps only one in a hundred of those owners knew how to wield the weapon.


    The disaster in Liesse had unravelled his plans to instil a sense of apathy within the people of Callow and replaced it with a swelling undercurrent of resentment. Resentment which would be the work of decades or perhaps even centuries to root out.


    Time that Amadeus did not have at his disposal.


    Amadeus had spent time examining the outcomes of both uprisings and concluded that the current state of affairs was not acceptable. Not because he expected Callow to free itself soon. No, even the next five uprisings would most likely fail to throw off the Empire¡¯s shackles without outside assistance. However, the hatred for the Empire within the population would inevitably doom Praes to facing a catastrophic defeat in the distant future, much like the end of the Crusader Kingdoms.


    There was a chance that the chaos which was unfolding across Calernia would allow him to slip the noose of such a story. Amadeus was not prepared to leave the future of the Empire to good fortune. Providence lay deep within the domain of heroes. It was not for him to grasp at.


    Villains had to forge their own luck from the cooling corpses of their enemies.


    Expecting the High Seats to remain passive during the next few years of chaos would also be utter stupidity. Amadeus was certain that at least one of them would make a play for the tower once they had achieved some kind of internal balance within their own borders. The Legions of Terror would need to be recalled to contain the inevitable conflict between them and Malicia. Leaving that mess to be resolved at a later date would leave Callow ripe for a different kind of rebellion.


    A crusade with the full support of Procer to the west.


    The Principate was still busy licking its wounds in the aftermath of its civil war, but Amadeus expected that it would be geared for a crusade within another decade. Both of their northern borders remained uncharacteristically quiet. Neither the Dead King nor the Chain of Hunger tested the might of the Lycoanese defences. The nations across their southern borders were also otherwise occupied. Levant was busy contending with a new wave of Names both heroic and villainous who wished to protect the sanctity of the creatures within the Brocelian forest, and the Free Cities were fully engaged in a civil war.


    Ashur ¡ª although not technically sharing a border with the Principate ¡ª claimed in intercepted correspondence that it had temporarily repelled a Yan Tei invasion fleet. Amadeus doubted that it was anything so dire. Ashur would no longer remain standing if it was. However, even if it was only Yan Tei offloading their undesirables somewhere, it still added even more fuel to the raging inferno that was Calernia.


    Procer faced a similar plague of Names to Praes, however unlike Praes it had a hero who could teleport. The heavens truly were more brazen than ever in tilting affairs their way, rather than allowing events to unfold at a more natural pace. The Eyes of the Empire had reported seeing the child of chaos who had created this complication for everyone within two different Principalities on the same day. That ability allowed her to serve as a widespread stabilizing influence that Praes did not presently have.


    Wekesa and Sabah were deployed in Praes at present to help both Malicia and the Eyes mitigate the spreading discord. Amadeus and Scribe remained within Callow. They would have departed as well, only it would be tantamount to turning over Callow to the rebellion.


    Amadeus could not afford for the Empire to face Procer with a rebellion in Callow hiding only skin deep below the surface. Neither could he afford for the current hatred towards Praes to exist in the long term. Allowing either would be tantamount to conceding defeat to the heavens. A long, drawn out defeat over the span of many years, but a defeat nonetheless.


    The Black Knight was not willing to accept such a failure.


    Alaya had assured him that the intermittent support of Wekesa and Sabah was enough to contain the chaos within Praes until he had resolved matters in Callow. That alone would not be enough to satisfy him. However, the increase in frequency of Named appearances had also boosted his reputation among the people of Callow to the point it rivalled the horror to the north. Heroes were far more hesitant to act against the Calamities now than they were even a year ago.


    The plan to integrate Callow into the Empire over many decades had been cast aside and replaced with another as a consequence.


    His new strategy involved carefully manipulating the current rebellion while every other nation was too occupied to involve themselves, much like the conquest had hidden behind the veil of the Proceran civil war. The rebellion was unlikely to amount to much without his intervention. He needed to accelerate the pace it operated at and crush it in a way that prevented another uprising for hopefully centuries to come.


    The Black Knight believed that he could achieve that kind of victory by weaving a narrative so heavy, it dragged all others into the wake of its current. Amadeus had to manipulate the story in such a way so that the people of Callow came to hate their own heroes more than they hated the Empire. He knew that twisting stories this way was dangerous. Such a task would have been an act of folly even a year ago, but if there was one advantage to the influx of new Names, it was that Amadeus could be selective in which ones survived to band together.


    Heroes with strong personalities who either conflicted in method or ideology were allowed to earn their Names. Those favouring extreme tactics in one way or another were preferred over others. Those who were liable to connect with one another were killed. Two bands of five competing heroes had been gathered from all corners of Callow within the borders of Laure as a result of his machinations.


    Two bands of five where none could truly tolerate each other.


    The largest setback was that there weren¡¯t more leaders among the crop of heroes that he had cultivated, but planning for a third band would likely amount to defeat by hubris. Even two heroic bands were pushing what the Calamities were capable of facing, and it was only their inexperience that stayed Black¡¯s hand. However, if Scribe found the opportunity to seed new villains into the rebellion, then Black was willing to take the risk. The presence of a villain on the opposing side would muddy the waters of their story, making them far less liable to succeed.


    The Reluctant Strategist led the first band of heroes. Black considered her to be the most dangerous hero and had only allowed her to survive after careful consideration. Both her calculated approach to warfare and her foreign heritage sowed the seeds of distrust between her and the rest of the heroes. It was likely that all the heroes would either splinter or stand behind the Faithful Warrior without her influence, which would make for a far weaker story to unite Callow and Praes behind in the long term.


    Her band consisted of the Stalwart Defender, the Loyal Aegis, the Wandering Bard and the Learned Tactician. The band of five had quiet, but firm and unyielding individuals who had united behind her in favour of using measured tactics. The only outlier ¡ª who was both a genuine exception to the rule and complication to the Black Knight¡¯s plans ¡ª was the unknown arrival of the Bard. The eyes had noted that the Bard often disappeared for long stretches of time. Nobody was sure of where she vanished to. She was the only hero aside from the Reluctant Strategist who the Eyed had noted to have been born somewhere outside Callow.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The second group of heroes was led by the Faithful Warrior and favoured a general uprising. They were much bolder and counted the Radiant Archer, the Gallant Youth, the Silver Lancer and the Vengeful Warrior. It was their much deeper attachments to the story of Callow and their propensity for violence that Amadeus was planning to leverage to undermine the rebellion.


    The Reluctant Tactician had so far managed to curtail the boldness of the Faithful Warrior. She prevented him from making aggressive strikes that would injure uninvolved peasants and gradually erode their own influence among the people of Callow. Amadeus was certain that with mounting failures, the Reluctant Strategist¡¯s influence would wane and eventually conflict would come of it.


    One of the risks of his larger strategy was the broader array of Aspects that the heroes would inevitably develop. The heavens liked to award their Chosen with the perfect tools to counter their opposition. The Black Knight had been steadily undermining Above¡¯s efforts by presenting them with the wrong kinds of challenges. Administration, surveillance, subterfuge, logistics, everything except the direct combat with villains that many of their Names were suited for. It was forcing them to occupy Roles that ran contrary to the purpose of their Names. He intended to continue to tease out their aspects over the next few months and weaken them that way as a result.


    A gradual removal of his own administrators would force the heroes into taking up those duties without the requisite skills, while also safeguarding those individuals when the rebellion at last became hot. Praesi gold which had once gone towards seeding conflict in Procer was now spent on buying goods within Callow in excess, leaving just enough for peasants to remain satisfied. For the heroes to fund their war efforts, they would need to take from their own people what their people did not have to give.


    A skeletal figure clad in nothing more than rags passed Amadeus while he contemplated the situation in Callow. Eudokia would almost certainly evaluate her as a potential hero candidate and kill her as a consequence. Another orphan.


    Amadeus grimaced as the gears of his mind turned towards that complication once again. It had taken some time to determine the cause of the new villain stories, and by then the problem had become self-sustaining. Rumours of children disappearing from orphanages continued to spread, sowing paranoia within the population of Callow. This in turn led to an increase in children who had both a heroic and villainous bent to their intentions, with the latter reinforcing the current state of affairs with each new appearance.


    The Black Knight had modified his overall strategy to handling orphans, although he was uncertain of if the efforts would yield any results given how the issue appeared to sustain itself. By now, Callowens appeared to expect these darker names to arise from orphanages.


    His new strategy involved having select members of the Eyes adopt the orphans who were identified as either heroic or villainous candidates, then carefully guiding their upbringing. It remained to be seen if this would be enough to curtail the issue in the long term, but for now it was the initial stage of solving what Amadeus expected would become a much larger, thornier difficulty.


    <hr>


    Few things remained untouched as the world was rapidly consumed by strife. Wekesa¡¯s home outside of Creation was one of them. Wekesa took out his dragonbone pipe and casually stuffed it with bangue to Amadeus¡¯s right.


    ¡°Are the preparations in Summerholme finished?¡± Black asked the Warlock.


    ¡°They are.¡±


    ¡°Excellent.¡±


    Black focused his attention on the water on the table before him.


    The basin of water shimmered before Black. His green-eyed reflection faded away, before the surface resolved into the dark skinned face of Alaya of Satus. She was seated at the dark wooden table within the council chamber on the twenty-third floor of the tower. A candle flickered to one side of her, highlighting the shadows circling her eyes.


    ¡°Amadeus,¡± she greeted him with a warm smile.


    ¡°Alaya,¡± he raised a wineglass in reply.


    ¡°What are your thoughts on the Proceran House of Light¡¯s new book?¡± Alaya asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a trap,¡± Amadeus gave a blunt reply.


    Obtaining a copy of the book had been as effortless as having one of the eyes pay the fee after filing a request for one at a Cathedral in Salia. It had been harder to lay his hands on one of the original copies to account for the possibility of errors in transcription, but it had still been achievable.


    ¡°You think the stories inside are false?¡±


    ¡°The stories she knows are not the only stories that exist.¡±


    ¡°And yet¡­¡±


    ¡°She did include stories where villains owned the ending,¡± Amadeus agreed.


    Amadeus would be lying if he refused to acknowledge the temptation to lean into those stories. The trouble was that they shared far too much in common with classical Praesi tragedies for Amadeus to bet on them. The Black Knight was not willing to gamble that much with the future of the Empire when other roads yet remained open to him.


    ¡°I take it that the trouble in Foramen is resolved?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± he confirmed, ¡°a faction of goblins attempted to splinter from under the matron¡¯s control and seize control of Foramen for themselves. The Legions have put down the rebellion. Marshal Nim and the seventh remains garrisoned there, however it will be some time until Foramen can be trusted to function without direct oversight.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Alaya¡¯s smile turned into a calculated frown, ¡°Tasia Sahelian continues to pay fines in an effort to ignore tower laws in spite of Procer refusing to extend her loans of silver.¡±


    Alaya had still not given him leave to purge the High Seats, despite the obvious danger that was bubbling beneath the surface of the Empire. A tenuous peace had emerged in the months since he had departed Laure, and old rivalries had resurfaced once again. Alaya had begun to play one faction against another once more. Given the chaos that was unfolding within Praes he expected that sooner or later an uncontrollable element would slip into her web and unravel it from the inside out.


    ¡°They refused?¡± Black¡¯s eyebrows rose, ¡°didn¡¯t you predict that girl would attempt to fund your opposition?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s too busy putting out fires in her own house to start fires in ours,¡± Alaya explained.


    ¡°There has been an increase of Circle of Thorns activity within Callow,¡± he countered.


    ¡°But nothing of substance has come from it.¡±


    ¡°Tasia definitely has the coin,¡± Amadeus said. ¡°Her network of spies has not been reduced, even now we still need to root them out of the Legions.¡±


    Scribe remained within Callow to oversee the situation there, but her reach remained vast despite that. The past few seasons were the first time in decades that the Calamities had been spread so thin.


    ¡°The Eyes'' penetration of Wolof has waned as well,¡± Malicia admitted. ¡°The new bank in Mercantis is willing to extend her loans.¡±


    ¡°The Ravel Bank?¡± Wekesa asked.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you¡¯d found a new interest in coinage,¡± Black stated drily, ¡°you¡¯re a bit too old to be looking for new hobbies.¡±


    Wekesa snorted.


    ¡°I found some of their coins in the pockets of one of the new heroes during dissection. It bore all the hallmarks of Fae magic, which prompted further investigation.¡±


    ¡°The bankers at Ater came to a similar conclusion,¡± Malicia added. ¡°I¡¯m placing a ban on the currency, even if it upends all of my existing work.¡±


    ¡°We have enough troubles already to not need to add the Fae to them as well,¡± he agreed.


    Some tension remained coiled within the frame of his long time friend.


    ¡°What else?¡± Black asked, ¡°there¡¯s more, isn¡¯t there?¡±


    ¡°The Sahelians have at last unveiled the first stage of their gambit.¡±


    The table creaked as Black¡¯s hand gripped the edge tighter.


    ¡°I¡¯ll expect another of those if you go and break it,¡± Wekesa grumbled from his right, ¡°that antiquity was imported from across the ocean, and it would be costly to replace.¡±


    Warlock had been in high spirits for the past few months, in spite of how frequently his research was interrupted. Every interruption presented him with the opportunity to examine a new oddity, and his collection of new research material had been accumulating at an otherwise unprecedented rate.


    ¡°How badly have they overstepped?¡±


    ¡°They technically haven¡¯t,¡± she admitted. ¡°They have modified their city wards to account for a new defensive array. The new array requires the sacrifice of five prisoners a week to fuel the enchantment. The final construction is modelled on the effects of a Beast of Hierarchy and is allegedly capable of identifying and preventing the formation of new Names within the city walls.¡±


    Amadeus leaned back in the soft green velvet chair and considered the words. The room was silent save for the crackle of flames from the furnace to his left. While it was not legally an overreach, this was still beyond ambitious even for the Sahelians. The use of both demons and devils were banned within the Legions. Amadeus had long desired to extend that ban to the rest of Praes, but acknowledged that even in more stable years it would not be enforceable.


    ¡°What do we know?¡± Wekesa inquired, looking up from his papers.


    ¡°They published a brief proclamation claiming that the array had already identified seven unwanted nascent Names within Wolof that have since been eliminated as an illustration of its effectiveness.¡±


    ¡°And the Due?¡± Wekesa pressed.


    ¡°Funnelled away into the sky.¡±


    ¡°Have they published the specifications of the array itself?¡± Wekesa asked.


    ¡°That information remains undisclosed,¡± Alaya denied.


    Black felt a stirring of rage for a brief moment, before he pulled it aside and shoved it away deep in a box. That box had grown considerably heavier over the past year. Diabolists from one side of the Empire to the other with more ambition than skill would be working to establish a similar array. They would call upon demons to study and replicate the effect. Then their magics would fail, and the demons would break loose.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give it an inspection and puzzle it out for myself,¡± Wekesa smiled, taking a deep sip of an Arlesite red.


    ¡°Who is responsible for this working?¡± Amadeus asked. ¡°Their new Hieress is of the old breed, but I doubt she¡¯s had the time to grow that far yet.¡±


    While it was known that the Sahelians were in possession of the demon which had once shattered the city of Shango, the ability to learn from it to such an extent was well beyond what most sorcerers were capable of.


    ¡°Dumisai of Aksum is the culprit,¡± Warlock mused, ¡°he was on the cusp of earning a Name before the Aspirant went and turned Creation on its head.¡±


    ¡°At least four of the other High Seats are funding research into duplicating the feat,¡± Alaya continued, ¡°I¡¯m certain that it will be all of them within a fortnight.¡±


    Amadeus looked closer at the image of his friend in the pool. There was still a tenseness to her, a sense of ominous secrets still withheld.


    ¡°What else?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Praes received its second Red Letter not even one hour past. Somebody is attempting to recreate Goblin Fire through material sciences,¡± Alaya admitted, ¡°I have yet to announce it.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°The High Lord of Thalassina Idriss Kebdana thought that he could hide the inventions of his Sinister Scientist from the gnomes in a research facility under the ocean floor,¡± her tone was so scathing that the words could melt through steel.


    ¡°How did it escape notice?¡±


    ¡°The Eyes are spread too thin. Small issues compound into larger ones, trouble slips through the cracks.¡±


    ¡°There is no telling how fast events will spiral out of control if they are being this brazen,¡± Amadeus stated.


    ¡°At least we are not alone,¡± Alaya laughed bitterly.


    Both the Principate and Delos had received Red Letters only a month past. A machine that made lightning elicited the first Red Letter in Procer, and a device for the mass reproduction of text earned the Red Letter in Delos. It was a grim time to rule anything larger than a chamberpot.


    ¡°What else?¡± the words were almost rote by this point. Amadeus realized that Alaya had been hiding much from him, hiding how grim the situation truly was.


    ¡°We can expect the High Seats to rebel against the Tower.¡±


    ¡°The Sahelians?¡±


    ¡°Are not behind this,¡± she denied, ¡°they will unite behind High Lady Abreha of Aksum in their effort to cast me down.¡±


    ¡°What gives her that confidence?¡±


    ¡°She won the lottery of new Names within her family. That, combined with some new discoveries and hired slave soldiers from Stygia that she thinks I don¡¯t know about, have bolstered her confidence. She¡¯ll try pushing for the Tower before the end of the season. Wolof is likely to make their play once Aksum¡¯s bid has fallen through.¡±


    ¡°The Legions need to be recalled.¡±


    ¡°They¡­ do,¡± Alaya admitted. ¡°And Maddie¡­ if you need to, then you have my permission to purge them.¡±


    ¡°Dark Days protocols?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± she licked her lips, ¡°Yes, Dark Days protocols.¡±


    The words were spoken softly. So soft, that it was almost a whisper. It sounded as if she was admitting defeat. There was more to the situation. This response all but confirmed it in his mind. The future was dark, but this alone was far from enough to wear his friend down.


    One question at a time, Amadeus teased out how much he had been kept ignorant of while attending to both Callow and the goblins.


    And of how much trouble was yet to come.

 Perdition 6.03

    ¡°If you can¡¯t win the war, then at least you can ensure that no one else does. There¡¯s nothing more unifying than mutually assured destruction.¡±


    ¨DDread Emperor Vindictive the First


    <hr>


    The Radiant Archer stepped through the door out into the early afternoon sunlight. Merton was tall and in his late twenties. He wore an open cotton shirt, with his chest exposed. With short, black hair, lean muscle and crisp blue eyes, the Radiant Archer looked like some of the cats that prowled the streets late at night.


    He stepped away from the door, and the stern faced figure of the Learned Tactician marched behind him. Edric was of a more reasonable height, with a bald head and greying eyebrows. He was in his mid-fifties and was dressed in the officer''s uniform of one of the old Callowan noble houses. I¡¯d been told that he¡¯d had hidden away in Daoine after the Calamities first took Callow, only returning recently.


    The door slammed shut. I had no idea what Edric was doing today, only that I¡¯d been told to learn from him again. It was best that I found out now, before I arrived somewhere without the tools I needed because it was another lesson on preparedness. I ran up towards them.


    ¡°Fine weather we¡¯ve been having,¡± I commented.


    ¡°She¡¯s about as subtle as the Gallant Youth,¡± Merton noted.


    ¡°We¡¯re investigating,¡± Edric told me tersely.


    ¡°Aeth would leave this duty to the soldiers,¡± the Radiant Archer snorted derisively, ¡°not that it¡¯s even necessary.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve already disarmed many traps located in strategic positions,¡± Edric countered.


    Not this again.


    The Radiant Archer and the Learned Tactician always argued. If it wasn¡¯t about the rebellion, then it was about their favourite meal or something else equally unimportant. It made Merton¡¯s decision to follow along even more confusing.


    Their pace picked up. Down the stairs onto the ground floor.


    ¡°Investigating what?¡±


    ¡°The Royal Foundry. The Sons of Streges told us that the Empire left it unused. Perhaps we can make use of it.¡±


    ¡°So I don¡¯t need anything?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Not this time.¡±


    It had been over a week since we¡¯d moved to Summerholm and over three since we¡¯d heard the Legions had pulled out from it. Between organizing the training of soldiers, shoring up the defences of the city and managing supplies, the Reluctant Strategist was never not occupied. She¡¯d had people searching up and down every corner of the city for traps or weaknesses.


    ¡°This here¡¯s all a waste,¡± Merton swaggered, ¡°but at least we¡¯re finally moving. Hopefully I¡¯ll have a shot at the Warlock. We could¡¯ve won this months ago if they¡¯d let me go at him.¡±


    ¡°This kind of impulsiveness will see us all perish,¡± the Learned Tactician pressed his lips tight together. ¡°It¡¯s discipline that keeps us alive. Nothing else.¡±


    ¡°One shot, and that¡¯s all it¡¯ll take,¡± the Radiant Archer ran his calloused fingers over the bow slung over his shoulders. ¡°It¡¯ll be like that Cyclops near the Waning Woods.¡±


    I snorted.


    ¡°Seems little miss has an opinion on your antics,¡± Edric commented.


    ¡°It would¡¯ve ended in Liesse if it was that easy.¡±


    ¡°Why, I¡¯ll have you know that I¡¯m far more capable of putting an arrow through the eyes of an upstart wizard than any Proceran priestess,¡± Merton blustered.


    Both of them continued to bicker as I followed behind them. My annoyance spiked as we passed through the inner ring of walls into the outer city. Watchtowers loomed over every choke point, and every other street was filled with killing fields.


    Even with the greenskins having pulled out and Summerholm being nominally under the control of the rebellion, the place was intimidating to see. There was a small part of me that wanted to explore, but I stabbed that part of me and left it out to dry. Best to end the urge now before it ended me.


    Edric and Merton slowed outside a looming oak building, then shoved the door open.


    Dust billowed outwards, some spraying into Merton¡¯s open mouth. He let out a hacking cough.


    Edric and I ignored him.


    ¡°So it did fall out of use,¡± Edric mused as he peered into the room.


    I squinted and looked in from beside him. The light was so dim that I wasn¡¯t sure how he was seeing anything inside at all. Both of them entered the musty old room. I followed behind. Edric led the way and pointed at one detail after another. From the large, cast iron furnace on the left, to the forge on the right. He stopped, inspected and told me what to pay attention to. He had a dull, droning voice. I¡¯d rather have listened to anyone else.


    Hours later and my attention had long since drifted off.


    Edric became irritable, then sent me outside alone. Merton stayed beside him. I imagined that the two of them kept trading occasional barbs.


    Even though it was now late afternoon, the light outside was harsh after spending so long in the broken remains of the Royal Foundry. The shadows were much more comfortable. I blinked, brushed my hair out of my eyes, then fell to the ground as I stumbled into somebody.


    ¡°You¡¯re not here to burn this place to the ground, are you?¡± a voice eeped out from the pile both of us had collapsed into.


    I untangled myself from the other figure and looked their way. It was a girl. She looked about my age ¡ª maybe a little younger ¡ª with black hair, sunburnt cheeks, watery blue eyes and a delicate nose. There was a vile smell about her. I couldn¡¯t place what it was. Perhaps some kind of rotten berry?


    ¡°Not presently,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Good, good,¡± her shoulders sagged. ¡°My family lives nearby. I¡¯m not sure where we would go if this place burned to the ground.¡±


    ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m about to set this place on fire?¡± I scowled at her.


    ¡°A bit,¡± she stammered, ¡°don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but you¡¯ve got this shifty look to you.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re just looking around. What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Abigail,¡± her nose twitched.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to ask me mine?¡±


    ¡°Is that safe?¡±


    Now she was just making fun of me.


    I glared.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± she squeaked.


    ¡°Catherine,¡± I smiled.


    ¡°You can talk to your new friend later. We¡¯re done here,¡± Edric stated, marching out from behind me.


    I sent him a glare and then said goodbye to the strange, twitchy girl.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing to her what you did to that servant outside the palace,¡± Edric muttered.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡°With that joke of yours,¡± he elaborated.


    ¡°The joke was funny,¡± I defended.


    ¡°Mind sharing the joke with everyone else?¡± Merton interjected.


    ¡°You¡¯re the only other person here,¡± Edric drawled.


    ¡°And I¡¯m enough for everyone. Come on, if someone like you is good enough to hear the joke, then so can anyone else.¡±


    ¡°She asked the servant what¡¯s the upside to thirty orphans suffocating in a hole,¡± Edric paused.


    ¡°What¡¯s the punchline?¡± the Radiant Archer ran his hands along his bow again.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t starving on the streets,¡± Edric finished.


    ¡°That¡¯s a shitty joke,¡± Merton turned and gave me a glare.


    ¡°The servant told me it was an austere palace,¡± I explained, ¡°I didn¡¯t know what austere meant, so I asked somebody else. They told me it meant it was for poor people, so I thought it was a joke because poor people don¡¯t own palaces. I thought it was a funny joke, so I told one of my own.¡±


    That had both silenced our hosts and earned me a hit over the head from the Stalwart Defender. He hadn¡¯t, however, corrected me for what I said.


    Both the Radiant Archer and the Learned Tactician just shook their heads and muttered something about that not being the meaning of austere.


    We each went our separate ways after we arrived back at the Comital Palace. Night fell, I washed and ate dinner. The food was one of the best meals I¡¯d ever eaten, although the stone chairs left much to complain about. I was assigned a few other minor chores like oiling blades and cleaning up armour. I suspected that the heroes were just trying to keep me out from under their toes. Eventually, I noticed that all the heroes were heading up the main staircase on the landing.


    Was something important happening?


    Yes.


    And they were leaving me out of it.


    It took prodding a few servants to learn that a Proceran emissary had arrived and allegedly carried information of interest to the rebellion. I wanted to know more. I trailed behind the heroes, up the stairs and onto the third floor. From there, I followed down a narrow corridor and towards two wide open double doors guarded by men in armour.


    One, two, three.


    One by one, all the heroes filed between the two potted cacti and through the heavy door.


    I slunk towards the door as casually as I could. The room was lit by torches lined in rows, with two on either side of shuttered windows. The cold stone slabs for tables and benches on the opposite side did not make for an inviting seating arrangement, but I¡¯d take what I could get, so long as I could find out more about what was going on.


    ¡°Not you, little Cat.¡± Mabli turned around, placed an aged hand on my shoulder and gave me a wrinkled smile.


    ¡°There¡¯s plenty heroic about being left outside of everything important,¡± I bristled in defiance.


    ¡°You¡¯re like a cute tiger cub,¡± Mabli coed, ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find something to occupy you,¡± she said with a meaningful glance my way, ¡°she¡¯s to stay out of the meeting,¡± she told the two door guards, before entering the room.


    I scowled at her receding figure as the door slammed shut behind her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you lot would ignore that?¡± I drawled at the two armoured figures beside the door.


    They didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°No? Nothing? Not even worth a send-off?¡±


    They didn¡¯t even glance my way.


    ¡°Are you even alive in there?¡± I rapped my knuckles against their plate.


    They were unmoved.


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re display pieces and not people,¡± I muttered, moving towards the door.


    There was a clank as one of them stepped in my way.


    Assholes.


    What to do now?


    I gave them one last glare before I started to search for something to do. Tapestries, carpets, the occasional vase or ornament. And to think that the servant I¡¯d spoken to had the nerve to tell me that it was a poor person¡¯s palace. They were actually proud of that! Any place that could afford to hold a tapestry on the walls was anything but poor, but the idea was definitely worth a laugh.


    I turned away from the door and glanced down the hallway to the left of it. It opened up onto a balcony with a view out onto the city below. I padded my way towards it. The railing came up to my eye level and I couldn¡¯t see over it. I dragged one of the abandoned stone blocks these people called chairs towards it and climbed on top of it. Sighing, I placed my arms over the railing and looked out onto the city of Summerholm.


    I was careful to keep my gaze level and not to look down.


    The first of the fifty-foot-high rings of city walls towered beneath the pale light of the stars in the distance, past rows of carefully arranged buildings and wide open streets. The second wall lay well beyond it and out of sight. With grim brickwork and minimal artistry, Summerholm looked like an empty plate. Everything about the city was designed for a purpose, and that purpose was war.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    There had been some heavy arguments between the Reluctant Strategist and the Faithful Warrior when the Legions pulled out. Mabli insisted that it was a trap. She insisted that there was no reason for the Legions to ever give up the Gateway to the East. It was one of the most fortified positions within Callow and the only place the Legions absolutely had to take when invading. She claimed that attempting to hold it would be overextending, that we should focus on fortifying our position in Laure before even considering taking the bait.


    Mabli folded after days of continued pressure from the heroes beneath the Faithful Warrior.


    I¡¯d thought that I¡¯d be involved more ever since the fight on the streets, and in some ways I was. Each of the heroes put aside some time to teach me. Archery with the Radiant Archer, tactics and military procedures with the Learned Tactician, logistics with the Stalwart Defender and swordsmanship with the Vengeful Warrior. It had taken me some time to notice that these days I learned faster as well. Skills that would have once taken me weeks to master came to me in days instead.


    I¡¯d become far less involved in other ways.


    The heroes didn¡¯t invite me to participate in anything important, and it was no longer so easy to eavesdrop on their meetings. I failed more often than not in my attempts ¡ª mostly due to there being no easily available places to spy from ¡ª although I had yet to be caught.


    The moon peeked out from beneath a cloud and shone down into my eyes. I blinked, then squinted away.


    A series of narrow cracks in the masonry running along the length of the right side of the building caught my attention. They passed close to one of the windows. Dull torchlight flickered from the other side of the shutters. Perhaps I could climb across and listen in through the glass?


    I glanced down below.


    Nobody was looking up.


    I looked behind me.


    The view onto the far side of the balcony was blocked by the door.


    Biting my lip, I dragged the chair over to that side of the balcony. Then, I climbed. First onto the chair, then onto the railing. A gentle breeze blew through my hair, making me sway from side to side. I looked down at the monster below me and gulped.


    This is the stupidest idea you¡¯ve ever had, Cat.


    My heart thundered away in my chest. It was a cloudless cool evening and yet sweat poured itself down my body. I trembled. Was I really considering this? Couldn¡¯t I just stay happy being uninvolved?


    No. I needed to know. What if Procer was sending troops to our support? Was there some secret plan that didn¡¯t involve me? I couldn¡¯t not be doing something. It would eat me up if I chose not to act. If I let somebody else solve Callow¡¯s problems and didn¡¯t do anything myself.


    I reached towards one of the cracks and stuck my fingers into them with as much force as I could muster. There was depth to the crack. Maybe enough that I wouldn¡¯t slip? I held my breath, sat on the railing and reached downwards with a foot, digging my toes into another series of cracks.


    There was some give. Enough that I considered this plan feasible.


    Breathe.


    I gripped the railing, then tried with another foot. No trouble there, either. I sat awkwardly, with my toes dug into the cracks in the wall and my ass slanted at an angle.


    Breathe.


    All that was left was my hands. Why was I doing this? My vision swam. I could still turn back from this stupid idea, right? I gulped.


    Breathe.


    Shakily, I reached out and dug my fingers into the cracks, then pulled myself off the railing.


    Don¡¯t look down.


    I swallowed. My mouth was so dry, it felt like I hadn¡¯t eaten in three weeks. Left palm up, reach across, left palm down.


    Breathe.


    Right palm up, reach across, right palm down.


    Left foot.


    Right foot.


    Breathe.


    I came to a rest beside the window sill. The shutters were down, but the lip offered me relief. Torchlight flickered through the gaps, casting eerie shadows along my arms. I climbed onto the window sill as quietly as I could. I was in luck.


    ¡°So Procer has nothing for us?¡± Mabli asked scathingly.


    ¡°While it is undoubtedly unfortunate that we are unable to come to your support in these tumultuous times, there is still some aid we can provide to you. The Circle of Thorns has been ordered to provide limited access to our intelligence in a bid to help you break Callow free from the grasp of the Empire,¡± an unknown voice said in a Proceran accent.


    There was a rustle of pages, then quiet for a few moments as Mabli presumably read over whatever it was that had been handed to her.


    The breeze picked up. I stifled a whimper.


    ¡°This¡­ This is what you have for us? This is an insult!¡± she exclaimed.


    ¡°What is it?¡± the Faithful Warrior asked.


    ¡°Praes is overpopulated. They rely on us for food. This just says that if we starve ourselves, then the Empire will fall apart because of it.¡±


    There was another moment of silence, then a rustle. It sounded like the papers were passed from one person to another.


    ¡°Burning the fields is¡­ a valid tactic,¡± the Faithful Warrior replied. ¡°Less trouble than Proceran soldiers would cause as well. We hold Laure and Summerholm, but there are still Legions within Callow who we can¡¯t easily fight, but we could starve out.¡±


    I bit my tongue to stop myself from shouting out in anger. This. This was something he was willing to do, but he didn¡¯t want me to fight? How did that make any sense? Had he ever starved before? The Empire needed to go, Callow needed to be free, but this wasn¡¯t winning. It was worse than Evil. The Black Knight hadn¡¯t starved people. I knew what it was like to starve.


    I leaned over a little and felt my grip on the window sill weaken. My heart leapt into my throat. I almost slammed myself backwards into the shutters, before realizing what I mistake that would be.


    This was a terrible idea, Cat.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t work,¡± Mabli replied.


    ¡°Are you sure it wouldn¡¯t work, Mab?¡± the harsh, grating voice of Gytha ¡ª the Stalwart Defender ¡ª cut in. ¡°Glory doesn¡¯t hold the line, we do.¡±


    I could almost see her in my head as she spoke. In her late thirties, she had short red hair that was trimmed to a military cut, muscles so large you could fit a dinner plate inside them, and a frame that was unreasonably tall.


    ¡°It worked in Aisne,¡± the Faithful Warrior challenged.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t work,¡± Mabli repeated, ¡°because the Black Knight pulled back to clean his own house. Thousands will die, then their food problem will go away.¡±


    ¡°What does your Aspect say?¡± Hilda ¡ª the Vengeful Warrior ¡ª asked.


    ¡°Wasting away another month of her life to assuage your concerns is reckless,¡± Edric criticized.


    ¡°Mercy has no place in this war,¡± the Vengeful Warrior retorted, ¡°just that they all burn by the end of it.¡±


    There were a few more moments of arguing. It didn¡¯t take long for discussions to once again fall along existing lines. Those who were behind the Reluctant Strategist and those who were behind the Faithful Warrior.


    More pressure was put on Mabli. Eventually, she conceded to the demands.


    Mabli let out a gasp.


    ¡°There, are you happy?¡± she snapped. ¡°Another month of my life gone only to confirm what I already knew. It won¡¯t work, it¡¯ll achieve no more than pissing in the wind.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you,¡± the Faithful Warrior replied.


    The other voices all silenced. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the leaders to resolve their argument.


    ¡°What?¡± Mabli sounded incredulous, ¡°I used my Aspect, and you still doubt me?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve sat and done nothing for over a season. Day in and day out, it¡¯s always the same. It¡¯s always too risky. Being a hero is about being bold. It¡¯s about doing what others don¡¯t. Well, now our enemy is vulnerable. We can¡¯t even call ourselves heroes if we still hold back and wait when our enemies have got up and left us here.¡±


    ¡°The Black Knight wants you to do this, you wool-headed fool,¡± she hissed, ¡°that¡¯s his whole plan. You start burning the fields, and what will your own people think of you?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll thank me once they are free,¡± he replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going along with this.¡±


    Three more voices were raised in agreement with the Reluctant Strategist.


    ¡°Then this is where we part ways from each other.¡±


    ¡°We hold the most defensible position in Callow. All we need to do is fortify and wait.¡±


    ¡°Waiting is what you do, Mabli.¡±


    Another gust of breeze slammed into me. I looked down by mistake. The ground beckoned to me some thirty feet below. I could feel the shakes start to set in.


    ¡°This is how he wins. We split, and then one by one he picks us all off.¡±


    ¡°Then come with us while we take the battle to the Legions.¡±


    The room fell quiet for a few moments.


    ¡°Listen to what your heart says if your head won¡¯t listen to reason. Would She want you to do this?¡± Mabli asked.


    ¡°As you¡¯re so fond of telling me, She is not here.¡±


    ¡°The only reason I haven¡¯t killed their armies already is your insistence on caution,¡± the Radiant Archer boasted.


    ¡°The moment you show your pretty little head, the Warlock would cut you down,¡± Mabli retorted.


    Another round of arguments broke out.


    The more I listened, the more I came to agree with the Reluctant Strategist. I didn¡¯t like waiting around and doing nothing, but I liked the idea of starving people even less. Fortify our position, protect what we had and then take back Callow one step at a time. It might be slower than starving people, but at least it wasn¡¯t worse than Evil. Besides, trying to push the remaining Legions out like this all at once wasn¡¯t bold, it was stupid. Maybe the idea could work, but if it failed, then nobody would view the rebellion with anything but hatred afterwards.


    It wasn¡¯t long until the Faithful Warrior and his band departed the chamber. They planned to rally as many volunteers behind them as they could within a week, and then try to take the fight to the Legions.


    The Reluctant Strategist refused to budge from Summerholm.


    She dismissed the remaining three heroes only a few moments later.


    I was about to start the epic quest back to the balcony when I heard what sounded like the ding of a spoon hitting the inside of a teacup, followed by the offbeat strumming of a lute.


    ¡°So you came,¡± Mabli sighed.


    ¡°That I did,¡± a voice declared dramatically.


    It wasn¡¯t one that I recognized.


    ¡°I tried keeping them together,¡± Mabli spoke.


    ¡°You did the best you can with the hand you were dealt,¡± the voice commiserated.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to salvage this.¡±


    ¡°Chin up, girl. Smile. You haven¡¯t lost yet,¡± the voice said lightly.


    Mabli snorted.


    ¡°The odds were long, even before the split.¡±


    There was a long, drawn out gulp, before a sigh.


    ¡°That¡¯s the stuff,¡± the voice mumbled. ¡°This Vale Summer wine is great. I swear, you don¡¯t know what I¡¯ve had to put up with these past few years.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass your compliments to the corpse that I filched it from.¡±


    ¡°You do that,¡± the unknown voice said, before becoming more businesslike, ¡°You feel like listening to me talk for a bit?¡±


    ¡°Go on,¡± Mabli urged wearily.


    ¡°So, here¡¯s a story that I bet you¡¯re familiar with. It¡¯s the story of the Crusader Kingdoms after Triumphant was beaten. They held onto Praes at first, and rebellion after rebellion was beat back.¡±


    ¡°Then came the second Terribilis,¡± the Reluctant Strategist replied.


    ¡°There was plenty of unrighteous fury that built up first,¡± the voice added, ¡°but yes, then he came and pushed back the crusaders.¡±


    The voice continued to regale the Reluctant Strategist with the tale of the downfall of the Crusader Kingdoms. I sat with my eyes closed, trying to ignore the rustle of the wind in my hair and the pull of the ground fifty feet below.


    ¡°So fail in a way that leaves room for the future,¡± Mabli mused as the tale ended. ¡°Not my glass of mulled wine.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I like to hear,¡± the voice cheered.


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯m sixty, and I¡¯m only nineteen,¡± Mabli groaned.


    There was another lull as the voice took a deep gulp.


    ¡°What¡¯s the story that all Praesi are told from the cradle?¡±


    ¡°Anyone can claim the tower,¡± the answer Mabli gave was almost immediate.


    ¡°Right, so, this story you won¡¯t know so well,¡± the voice stated, ¡°so interrupt me if you want anything clarified.¡±


    ¡°Go on,¡± Mabli repeated impatiently.


    ¡°There was once a hero who held the Tower. He went by the regnal name of Benevolent, although he killed more than Massacre, so you could say that it¡¯s a bit of a misnomer.¡±


    ¡°Why hasn¡¯t anyone ever heard of him then,¡± Mabli inquired.


    ¡°He came so close to winning that the Praesi did their best to purge him from the records.¡±


    ¡°The rest of the world should still know about him.¡±


    ¡°Purged him with demons,¡± the voice emphasized.


    I tried to muster up the correct amount of fear at the word, but right then the only demon I feared was the one a hundred feet below me. Why was I sitting up here? There was nothing sensible about hiding out on a window ledge and eavesdropping on a conversation. Where had sensible Catherine gone to, and could she come back and scold me for this lapse in my wits?


    The story continued to unfold, and I did my best to ignore the ground as the wind started to howl.


    ¡°It¡¯s a bit too late for me to climb the tower,¡± the Reluctant Strategist drawled as the story came to an end.


    ¡°It could be somebody else.¡±


    ¡°Callow is not part of the Empire.¡±


    ¡°What if it was?¡±


    ¡°The whole point of this is to get Callow out of the Empire.¡±


    ¡°What if the Empire was part of Callow, then?¡±


    Silence fell in the room.


    It took more than a few moments for me to realize that the visitor was gone.


    ¡°Two stories each with their own lessons, but where is the third, forth, or however many more there are that remain unexamined?¡± the Reluctant Strategist whispered to herself. ¡°There¡¯s always more than two stories to a side. Which strategy is it ¡ª I wonder ¡ª that you wish for us to follow?¡±


    Now, to make my way back.


    The wind picked up even further. Now a heavy gale, I doubted anyone could hear me if I let off a scream. A rumble. Was that lightning? I dug my fingers and toes into the cracks, then started to climb my way across. The ground almost seemed to yawn a thousand feet below me.


    Breathe.


    I released a hand and reached over, before digging my fingers into the wall once again. Whispers called out to me, my hair blew up and covered my eyes. I whimpered and reached over again.


    Breathe.


    Hand, foot, hand, foot. The world narrowed into a dark tunnel as I did all that I could to avoid lowering my gaze towards the ground. At last, I reached the balcony and panted as I pulled myself onto it. I heard the door to the room open once more, but ignored it. Safe, I was safe.


    ¡°You look awfully frazzled for somebody whose been sitting on the balcony for over an hour,¡± Mabli prodded.


    My reverie shattered.


    ¡°It¡¯s windy up here.¡±


    ¡°Windy, of course,¡± Mabli¡¯s eyes fell to my gritty fingernails. She said nothing, then looked towards her own wrinkled hands. ¡°You can follow around Edric tomorrow,¡± she declared.


    ¡°Again?¡± I blurted out, ¡°that is, er, nothing against Edric, but I¡¯d rather learn from somebody more fun?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be delighted to hear that,¡± Mabli replied.


    ¡°If I have to hear about the importance of ditches or proper latrine placement in warfare one more time,¡± I muttered.


    Mabli skewered me with her gaze. I shivered.


    ¡°Remember Catherine, the higher you climb, the further there is to fall.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not enthusiastic about heights myself.¡±


    ¡°Best prepare thoroughly if you wish to reach the summit,¡± she gave me the hint of a smile.


    She turned away and left.


    I wasn¡¯t sure what she meant.


    I wasn¡¯t sure that I wanted to know, either.

 Perdition 6.04

    ¡°Strategy? What about it? There¡¯s no need to worry yourself about strategy if your opponent is as confused as you are.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Irritant I, the Oddly Successful


    <hr>


    I couldn¡¯t tell which was worse, the cold stone slab beneath my ass or the autumn noonday sun¡¯s relentless glare. At least I¡¯d decided that the persistent itching under my shirt came at a distant third. My clothes grew tighter with each passing day, and the contents of my wardrobe remained one of the rebellion¡¯s lowest priorities. I tugged at the fabric, hating how it clung tighter to my chest. I¡¯d complained about it a few times, but even after another month in Summerholm nothing had come of it.


    Abigail fussed with the hem of her yellow dress on the opposite side of the table for a few moments, before her right hand darted forward and placed one of her stones.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to tear that,¡± I mocked.


    Her left leg knocked against one of my own. She pulled it back quickly and almost jumped out of her seat. I smiled a little, then shifted over, keeping them sprawled comfortably. That was the third time I¡¯d managed to elicit that reaction from her so far.


    ¡°Better than hearing from another of my uncles about fulfilling my obligations to the family again,¡± she muttered.


    Sighing, I reached towards one of the black stones and placed it on the thirteen by thirteen board on the stone table before me. I was half tempted to pick up pieces from the Shatranj box and start placing them on the Baduk board. I¡¯d tried that once, but Mabli had rapped my knuckles and told me that playing this game was about learning to think, and not about seeing who won.


    She always had trite commentary like that.


    The Reluctant Strategist didn¡¯t often have time to teach me anything, then when she did she insisted I learn a whole host of useless skills that I¡¯d likely never need again. Like how to dance, or the different traditions of the Callowan noble houses, or different languages, or wasteland politics, or the knightly codes of chivalry. She¡¯d even had me play cards with soldiers for a while, insisting that it was a good way to learn how to lie. It was a rare day when she¡¯d take me aside and talk to me about strategy, but she left all the useful lessons to everyone else.


    Like brawling with the Stalwart Defender, or even horseback riding. It had taken me a while to become used to the feeling of a horse under my hips and I still wasn¡¯t comfortable with it, but better that than more time spent learning about courtly intrigue.


    Abigail bit her lip. Her hand hovered above the board, darting back and forth like some kind of viper, before she at last settled on her choice. She seized a stone and placed it between a cluster of my pieces.


    ¡°You can¡¯t do that. It¡¯s against the rules,¡± I pointed to my pieces.


    The cautious girl shook her head. Her dark hair fell like shadows across her shoulders. She reached forward and pointed to the surrounding pieces.


    ¡°See here, here, and here,¡± she spoke timidly while pointing to the pieces in question, ¡°that piece completed the encirclement.¡±


    The smile slid from my face, replaced by a stormy scowl. I crossed my arms then looked closer. She was right.


    A glance at the board told me she had already won.


    Again.


    ¡°How¡¯d you pull that off?¡±


    ¡°I listened when Mabli was talking to you about strategy.¡±


    Ever the graceful loser, I picked up another ten stones and arranged them all at once on the board. Mabli might give me a glower of disapproval, but she wasn¡¯t here to scold me.


    ¡°I won,¡± I declared.


    My opponent glared at the board.


    ¡°Which rule did you win with this time?¡± she asked.


    She¡¯d tried arguing with me about stunts like this the first few times I¡¯d pulled them before giving it up as a lost cause. Smart girl, Abigail.


    ¡°It¡¯s the Catherine manoeuvre,¡± I replied.


    The distant slamming of a door brought an end to our conversation. I stiffened. The harsh clatter of boots on stone followed. Whoever it was that had entered wasn¡¯t trusted with Mabli on their own.


    ¡°Somebody¡¯s here to talk with Mabli,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just play another round?¡± she pleaded.


    ¡°Course not.¡±


    Abigail sighed, before brushing her hair off her sunburned cheeks and rising to her feet. I did the same. Both of us padded silently towards the door.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to land us in a heap of trouble.¡±


    ¡°Nah, I won¡¯t. Mabli wants me to do this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re reading her right.¡±


    ¡°How else am I supposed to interpret what she does?¡±


    It had taken me a while to realize that the Reluctant Strategist favoured me when I defied her orders. Well, she rewarded me a few days after I¡¯d disobeyed her, provided that I wasn¡¯t caught. When I was caught¡­ she punished me by assigning me duties with Edric.


    Realizing that had lit a fire under me, and now I went out of my way to slip around her orders whenever I could. Every opportunity to eavesdrop was a chance to win a prize. She always caught me in my lies, forcing me to choose my words with care. Then she¡¯d start asking questions. It didn¡¯t matter how I answered, somehow she¡¯d always know the truth.


    ¡°As an excuse to run away from all this.¡±


    Both of us quietened down as we reached the closed door of the balcony that led into Mabli¡¯s office. I spun the handle and opened the door a crack. The muffled sounds of conversation reached both of our ears.


    ¡°¡ª humble servant brings word from the High Lady of Wolof, Tasia Sahelian.¡±


    If I recalled Mabli¡¯s lessons correctly, then Wolof was one of the High Seats of Praes. The Lords and Ladies who schemed and connived against the Empress for the throne. I glowered. They were supposed to be even worse than the Empress. The only advantage was that they were stuck in Praes unlike the Legions.


    I wasn¡¯t sure why the man was speaking in the noble dialect. The Reluctant Strategist wasn¡¯t a lord or lady, so he was just wasting air.


    ¡°What does Wolof want?¡± Mabli responded in a clipped, neutral tone.


    That tone alone painted a picture for me. It was deceptive. The first time I¡¯d heard it, I¡¯d thought that she was in a good mood. Five men were hanged the second time I heard it. I could almost see her standing with her hands behind her back, her face an impassive mask. I¡¯d bet that her eyes were as sharp as a dagger¡¯s edge, glaring holes into the person she spoke with.


    ¡°This diplomatic convoy consisted of three envoys, but circumstances conspired so that two of its number were waylaid by two Legion patrols near the Blessed Isles. The Legion patrols had yet to capture the envoys by the time of my departure, but there is no telling what has occurred in the intervening days. The tool that was intended to be used for communications between parties remains in the possession of the lost envoys.¡±


    ¡°What does Wolof want?¡± Mabli repeated, louder this time.


    ¡°High Lady Tasia Sahelian is aware of the economic burden the rebellion suffers under and proposes that a mutually beneficial agreement can be arranged that would help ameliorate their hardships.¡±


    ¡°Why does she want to fund us?¡±


    ¡°The current state of affairs within Praes runs against the interests of Wolof.¡±


    That was a circumspect way of saying that the Sahelians were making a bid for the Tower.


    ¡°What terms does she offer?¡±


    ¡°This envoy is not authorized to negotiate on the behalf of High Lady Tesia Sahelian,¡± the man replied.


    Mabli fell silent.


    ¡°I¡¯d need to rescue the rest of the convoy if I wanted to speak to her.¡±


    ¡°That is indeed the nature of this quandary.¡±


    ¡°And this is only an invitation to speak, nothing more?¡±


    ¡°There would be no consequences ¡ª save for a loss of opportunity ¡ª should the Reluctant Strategist choose not to entreat with Wolof any further.¡±


    There was another pause.


    ¡°I won¡¯t relieve them,¡± Mabli stated. ¡°I can¡¯t be seen openly colluding with Wolof. It would break the rebellion. If somebody else relieved them, then maybe we could talk.¡±


    ¡°This humble servant understands.¡±


    A few more meaningless pleasantries were exchanged, but thoughts drifted like they used to on the streets when I smelled a loaf of fresh bread. I understood the implied message. Mabli was giving me permission to do this. She wanted me to rescue emissaries from the Legions and guide them back to Summerholm.


    A part of me wanted to ignore this opportunity. They were just another enemy faction. One that was even worse than the current Dread Empress. However, I stopped and thought it over further. My first instinct could be wrong. Everything¡¯s falling apart, and it¡¯s all the Faithful Warrior¡¯s fault. That was enough to convince me that Mabli¡¯s caution was warranted.


    Why should I consider this? Different Praesi factions fighting with each other could only benefit us. It was better for them to bleed each other than for them to bleed us. This was only an invitation to speak with them. We wouldn¡¯t be agreeing to anything by accepting it. There was always the chance to stab them the moment demons or devils were brought up.


    There was also the hidden monster breathing down all of our necks. It was hard to miss how the size of our portions dwindled after each week that passed, or how less than half of our recruits were properly armoured.


    I turned to Abigail.


    Her watery blue eyes were so wide that for a moment I thought they were about to fall out.


    ¡°It¡¯s a terrible idea,¡± she hissed, while we walked back to the table.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything,¡± I defended.


    My heart pounded like my fists once had against a locked butchery door. I almost vibrated in anticipation. This was my chance. I was being trusted with something important. This was my opportunity to do something.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t need to. You get this crafty look in your eye that promises mischief, then next thing we¡¯re caught, and I¡¯m washing boots again,¡± she narrowed her eyes.


    Time passed like drops of frozen honey in an hourglass while I waited for ¡°time tutored by the Reluctant Strategist¡± to end. We were dismissed a few hours later. I darted to my room, opened the rucksack sprawled to one side of my bedding, and quirked my lips triumphantly.


    Abigail¡¯s shoulder¡¯s sagged.


    ¡°See,¡± I hissed.


    The satchel was packed full of provisions. Not only food, but tools. Provisions that I hadn¡¯t filled it with. Two daggers were also set aside and after examining the room further I found an aketon that was about my size. This was as good as an invitation as I would ever receive to stage a rescue mission.


    ¡°Why do I have to be friends with the stupid rich girl who wants to be a hero?¡± she muttered under her breath. I scowled. I wasn¡¯t rich! Perhaps she thought that I couldn¡¯t hear her, but I¡¯d get her back for saying as much. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t it be anyone else? But no, my da says that if I¡¯m her friend, then maybe one day I can help pull up the family. Maybe I should just run away?¡±


    ¡°So you agree then?¡± my lips twitched.


    ¡°I, er, yes, of course,¡± she stammered, before her eyes narrowed. ¡°Wait, what did I just agree to?¡±


    ¡°Good. Come along then,¡± I beamed.


    ¡°Cat, what did I just agree to?¡± she pleaded.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to help me escape the city.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s almost dusk.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°Curfew is in a few hours.¡±


    ¡°That just means we need to move faster then.¡±


    ¡°Are you completely daft?¡± she challenged.


    ¡°What¡¯s the worst that could happen? You fall behind and they catch you? Nah, they¡¯ll catch me first. I¡¯ll even let you have a head start while we run.¡±


    ¡°Well, we could get caught, killed, or worse¡­ I mean, that¡¯s a joke, right?¡±


    ¡°Why would it be?¡±


    ¡°Do you even know where the Blessed Isles are?¡±


    I pulled up a map from inside the pouch and waved it at her.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± she grabbed the map out of my hands and pointed at something.


    I paused for a moment and leaned over her shoulder. It was a map of the Fields of Streges. There was a cross marked across a tavern a short distance outside the walls of Summerholm along the road to the Blessed Isles.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep my eyes open when I¡¯m there,¡± I shrugged.


    Abigail continued to make noise.


    I listened with one ear to her complaints as I changed clothes and took stock of what I¡¯d been given. It wasn¡¯t long before we made our way down the carpeted stairwell and out the palace door. Nobody spared me a second glance.


    We passed through the inner city walls without any complications. Abigail¡¯s home was in the outer city, and both of us had been given permission to move between districts. I think the guards at the inner gate raised a ruckus about having to check that after the tenth visit. By now they knew us on sight. We were halfway towards the outer city walls when the first problem reared its ugly head. I knew from previous experiences that those guards both knew my identity and had been told to keep me in.


    ¡°I¡¯m not climbing those,¡± I declared.


    ¡°That means I can go home now, and we forget about this, right?¡± my friend stopped moving from foot to foot, and her right hand fell away from her hair.


    ¡°No, it means we stop and think.¡±


    The two of us came to a stop at an intersection beneath one of the watchtowers. Abigail kept wringing her hands together and twitching from side to side. Climbing the wall wasn¡¯t on the table. Until I¡¯d killed my own damned fear, there was no way that I wouldn¡¯t be seen.


    ¡°What if you set fire to something near the gates to distract the guards?¡±


    I was certain that she knew of a better way out of the city than me. Unfortunately, there¡¯s no way she¡¯d volunteer the without a proper incentive. She was far too cautious to help me unless the alternative was worse. So I¡¯d need to persuade her, which¡­ should be possible with the right kind of push.


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    ¡°No, no, no,¡± her voice rose with every word.


    ¡°If we time it when somebody else is passing through, then I just need to dash fast enough.¡±


    ¡°This is¡­ this is a bad idea.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. That¡¯s why it¡¯ll work,¡± I grinned.


    ¡°There¡¯s so many better way¡¯s to do this. Think about what will happen if we get caught.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you just ask the guards?¡±


    ¡°Then they¡¯d know that I want out,¡± I explained.


    ¡°They¡¯d have been warned to let you through?¡± she tried.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid. Sneaking out is a part of this.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you nervous?¡± she hunched in on herself.


    ¡°Quivering in my boots.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we take a moment to stop and plan?¡± Abigail began to fidget with her hair.


    I started to walk towards one of the nearby buildings.


    ¡°The Reluctant Strategist is having the sewer wards replaced,¡± she blurted out.


    There. I hid my smile as I turned back to her.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you listening two days ago?¡± she inquired, ¡°she doesn¡¯t trust that the Warlock didn¡¯t sabotage them in some way.¡±


    It went without saying that parts of the sewers extended beyond the city walls. In normal circumstances the sewers would be sealed off tight, patrolled and warded against incursions, but if the wards were being examined then there might be an opening.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the nearest sewer maintenance shaft?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a map,¡± she flinched as the words left her mouth.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I reached up and awkwardly slung my arm over her shoulder, ¡°surely you have some idea?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just forget about this, she pleaded, then flushed. ¡°We could watch the boys during their morning drills tomorrow instead.¡±


    I prodded her again.


    ¡°There¡¯s one near the stables,¡± the words crawled out of her mouth.


    Abigail wilted.


    I smiled and walked towards the stables. There were no buildings near the walls ¡ª it apparently wasn¡¯t secure ¡ª but the stables were as close as it got.


    A group of voices took up a song in the distance.


    ¡°Twenty-three princes sit in a room


    In walks a saint and it spells their doom


    Twenty-two princes cower in fear


    The blade came out, and their end draws near-¡±


    ¡°Where¡¯s the entrance?¡± I asked.


    My friend pointed towards an otherwise unnoticeable building set in the shadow of the stables. It was guarded by two soldiers who were both seated on rickety stools. The gate was certainly locked, but I could deal with that. My eyes flicked back to the five soldiers drinking and rolling dice on the floor outside the stables. I¡¯d have guessed they were relieved from duty if not for their uniforms. A single glance at how sloppy they were dressed was enough to tell me they would be in deep water if their superior caught them.


    ¡°-Twenty-one princes run for the door


    The first head hits the assembly floor


    Twenty princes rail against fate


    Best nod their heads before it is too late-¡±


    Now, what next? I needed to find a distraction, and whatever the distraction was needed to be believable. I looked at the stable, then at the sewer entrance, then at the stable, then at the sewer entrance again. The pack bit into my shoulders. I grimaced and shifted its weight a little.


    ¡°-Nineteen princes don¡¯t adapt to the times


    At least they¡¯ll live on in nursery rhymes


    Fifteen princes are put to the sword


    Those that remain will reach an accord-¡±


    Abigail sneezed. My eyes fell on her. She shrunk in on herself. Yes, that would work.


    ¡°I need you to upset the horses.¡±


    ¡°How would I even do that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I shrugged, ¡°sneak into their stalls, cut them all loose then throw some stones around?¡±


    ¡°Do you even know how much trouble that will get me into?¡±


    ¡°Come on, Abigail,¡± I frowned, ¡°I¡¯ll do it myself and claim you were a part of it if you don¡¯t help.¡±


    She glared balefully at me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll put in a good word for you with Mabli if you help?¡± I tried.


    ¡°And I won¡¯t have to follow you out of the city?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to leave me out cold,¡± I agreed.


    Abigail firmed her shoulders. I could almost see her mustering her courage.


    ¡°Fine, but I want you to promise me something,¡± she declared.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± I grinned.


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to save me when I land in trouble.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like that. Friends shouldn¡¯t leave other friends behind.


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not about to let my efforts go to waste,¡± she glared at me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to betray you.¡±


    She folded her arms and didn¡¯t say another word.


    She wasn¡¯t going to get in trouble, right?


    ¡°Okay, I agree.¡±


    Abigail gave me a resolute nod, then slunk off.


    ¡°-Four princes choose not to attend


    The smartest path to avoid their end


    One prince sits on more than one throne


    And never before has she felt so alone.¡±


    The next couple of hundred heartbeats passed at a snail¡¯s pace. Abigail passed beneath the shadow of a watchtower, then strolled briskly right beneath the noses of the guards into the stables. They didn¡¯t even look up from their game of dice. My shoulders were tense. I rolled my muscles and breathed in. She wouldn¡¯t fail. I wasn¡¯t nervous. Everything would hold, like bread before it crumbled.


    ¡°Wonder what it¡¯ll take to convince that lass to leave the Principate and put the heads in our house in order,¡± one of the guards muttered.


    ¡°More than we have, Steve,¡± another replied.


    ¡°There¡¯s a pity. I heard that she¡¯s got no tolerance for names that don¡¯t play by her rules.¡±


    Several small pebbles smack against each of the guard¡¯s helmets. They let out an exclamation of surprise, before charging into the stables. A moment later and there was a loud crack. Over a dozen horses bolted out of the stables. A guard took a hoof to the back. I winced, then pushed the feeling aside. The priests could heal him, and he probably deserved it for something. One of the horses charged past the sewer entrance. Most of the guards went charging after them.


    Abigail ran in the opposite direction, her yellow dress torn and flapping behind her. She let out a distressed wail, drawing more attention to herself. My eyebrows rose in appreciation. It was an impressive act. One that I couldn¡¯t have succeeded at. It was an act, right? It had to be.


    A cold shiver crawled up my spine.


    Of course she was fine. She had to be fine. I promised that I wouldn¡¯t abandon the plan. I shuddered.


    Don¡¯t think about your friend maybe being hurt Cat, it¡¯s time to move now.


    The last of the guards ran towards her.


    Should I call this off here? I wasn¡¯t sure if she would find her way out of trouble on her own. My gut churned. Leaving her felt wrong, but¡­ I¡¯d promised her. I¡¯d said that I¡¯d follow through. Should I go against my word? This all felt like a horrible mistake. My palms were sweaty. I bit my lips.


    The Reluctant Strategist also wanted me to do this, although I wasn¡¯t certain if it was worth following through. This was a mission to rescue Praesi. Praesi! And these were supposed to be even worse than the ones that I was familiar with. Shouldn¡¯t I just abandon the mission and take care of my friend?


    No, I¡¯d committed to this. Mabli gave away a month of her life whenever she was asked to. If she was prepared to go so far for the rebellion, then how could I hesitate at something this small?


    Hating the turmoil within my chest, I leaned forward and approached the stable at a brisk stroll. The heat of the sun diminished. I passed beneath the lip of its roof. There was one guard remaining. He was busy running up and down within the building. I wasn¡¯t sure what he was searching for. I dismissed him from my thoughts. He didn¡¯t look my way regardless. I reached the sewer entrance, then glanced towards the stools.


    The guard had dropped the key beside his chair before he¡¯d run off. It was a pity that he was unaware of how close it was to slipping out of his reach. A pity for him, that is.


    That made everything easier.


    The gate rattled as I fought with the keys. It wasn¡¯t long before it opened. The noise still worried me. I swore under my breath and chanced a look around. My shoulders sagged. Nobody was looking my way. I started to descend the stairs. The cool, damp air was a relief from the sun. Then the stench assaulted my nostrils, thick, cloying, like rancid meat. The passage opened up onto a wide canal of filth that cut a gap about ten feet across, nestled between two paths on either side of it. I pinched my nose and stuck to the left side, coming to a stop at an intersection.


    The surface wall was to my left.


    I peered down the passage. The tunnel opened out to a fortified grate that appeared to be sealed by wards. I took the small bridge across to the other side of the intersection and began to move deeper into the passage. I reached the next exit point only a few moments later. This one was sealed as well.


    A burning anger coiled tight in my chest.


    A sound echoed out in the distance. I froze. Did I just imagine it? No, there it was again. Where could I hide? I glanced around. There was a crack in the wall above me. Loose bricks had fallen onto the path and soil spilled through. The gap wasn¡¯t large, but it was large enough for me to fit in. I peered inside. There was a dip and enough space for me to hide away. It should be deep enough for me to remain obscured. Well, so long as nobody stuck their head in to look.


    The hollow would have to do.


    I gripped the edges, then heaved myself up and hid in a broken alcove. The glimmer of torchlight on the walls came next. Then the sound of their boots. It was a patrol. My mouth clammed shut. I could feel the drip of sweat down the back of my neck as the patrol approached.


    ¡°You heard about what¡¯s happening in Laure?¡± the voice of one of the guards echoes across the filth.


    ¡°Complete chaos,¡± a woman spat. ¡°People struggling to find food. They say that every other day, there¡¯s a new hero or villain showing up and breaking something else.¡±


    I could feel each moment that passed as they drew closer.


    Should I run? No, that¡¯d give me away for sure. I was tired. They were certain to possess more stamina than me. Better to remain hidden and hope that they don¡¯t look in the alcove. I crouched lower, then gagged at the reek. Even this hole in the wall was filthy.


    ¡°Marchford is still under the Empire,¡± the man replied.


    ¡°It¡¯s more orderly there as well. Think it¡¯s better under the Praesi boot than these rebel factions?¡±


    Storm clouds gathered above my head, but I remained silent. How dare they! We were doing our best. It wasn¡¯t our fault that the Faithful Warrior was making a mess of everything. Summerholm hardly had any of those kinds of problems. They couldn¡¯t blame us if the rest of Callow was falling apart.


    Both of them continued to approach. They paused outside my hiding place. A torch was raised. I felt the heat of flames close in on me.


    Don¡¯t say anything, Catherine.


    ¡°It was better before. They kept a tighter lid on the chaos. It¡¯s too bad we¡¯d be put to the sword if we tried to desert.¡±


    ¡°These heroes are worse than the villains they replaced,¡± the woman grumbled. ¡°Have you heard about how many farms have been burned down?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not all bad. The Reluctant Strategist has been against it.¡±


    ¡°But she never actually does anything.¡±


    ¡°Tells you how bad these new heroes are. Just think. Heroes used to be people we looked up to. Now, the best we can hope for is one who doesn¡¯t send everything to the hells.¡±


    The heat of the torch withdrew. Both voices started to fade away. I let out a sigh of relief, then waited another quarter-hour before dragging myself out of the hole. I dusted myself off before proceeding deeper and deeper into the tunnels. From there I alternated between heading further towards the centre of the city and then moving further away.


    Each turn felt tighter, each shadow heavier.


    Always remaining alert, always keeping an ear open. Searching for guards before rounding a corner. Hiding whenever I saw the flickering of a torch or heard the muted echo of a voice. Diverting their attention when stealth failed. I¡¯d amassed a small collection of rocks in the process. I wasn¡¯t sure how long it took before I made any progress. By then, I was so lost that I wasn¡¯t sure how to find my way back into the city.


    All of that would have been acceptable, except by then my hair was matted against the back of my head, and I was more filth than Catherine. I¡¯m sure there are piles of manure that were less odious than I was.


    It took time for me to absorb the shape of where I was. I started to develop a sense of how the sewers were organized. It was like a silent voice at the back of my mind, whispering to me which way I should head. Progress sped up, but my eyes began to droop.


    I peered around a corner and somehow missed the dull flicker of torches in my fatigue. Three more steps forward, and I came face to face with a patrol. I stared. They stared back. Then, the moment was broken. The woman in the lead opened her mouth.


    ¡°Halt, kid, and come with us!¡± she shouted.


    Would the pebbles I was carrying help me out of this?¡­ No, they wouldn¡¯t.


    I whirled and dashed. The floor was slick beneath my feet, but the heavy thumping of boots behind me was enough to spur me on.


    Thump.


    Thump.


    Thump.


    The boots on the ground resonated with the rhythm of the thunder in my chest. Grimy water splashed all over me. My arms swung from side to side. The guards let out another cry. I turned a passage, only to come face to face with another patrol. I swung around. A hand fell on my arm. I ducked and rolled across one of the bridges. Shit smeared itself across my face. It was hard not to gag. I didn¡¯t have time to wipe it off.


    I scrambled to my feet, keeping my hands closed firmly around the pebbles in my palms. It was an awkward mess. I let out another heaving gasp as I darted through another grab.


    Where to now? No time to think.


    I started running along the passage in the direction the first patrol had come from. My heart hammered, heavy and hard in my chest. This time I was on the opposite side of the canal. They shouted. There was a ringing echo as somebody drew their sword. Another group came jogging down a third path.


    No, no, no.


    One of them slipped and fell into the river of filth. Another pivot. More guards. My eyes darted to the other side of the canal. Could I make the jump? I looked to my left, then my right. The guards were spacing themselves out so that there was no way for me to pass.


    ¡°Give up and come with us, kid!¡± one of them bellowed. ¡°We have you surrounded!¡±


    I¡¯d have to try. It wasn¡¯t like I had a good alternative.


    ¡°Only by half!¡± I shouted back.


    My gut slammed into the bilge as I threw myself across the gulf. Yes! I landed with a heavy thud on the other side, only to slip and slide. No, no, no, don¡¯t fall.


    I slammed into the grimy wall on the far end.


    Dazed, I shook myself off. No time to recover my senses. I pivoted, then sprinted.


    Another patrol.


    Couldn¡¯t they just leave me alone?


    I spun again. There was a hiss as a torch sizzled out in the water somewhere to my right.


    My sense of the dark passage ahead had long since shifted. It was no longer a reprieve from the sun, but instead was like the constricting throat of some great beast, gradually swallowing me whole. Another turn. This time it was a dead end. Perhaps Abigail was right. Maybe I was too reckless.


    Out.


    I needed a way out.


    I was hopelessly lost and counting on good fortune to carry me past the guards. That, or I¡¯d come face to face with Mabli again. Being caught for something like this¡­ I couldn¡¯t even guess how much trouble I¡¯d be in. So many duties with Edric. So, so many duties.


    Panting, I rounded another corner. I came face to face with an open grate leading out into the tent city beyond the Summerholm¡¯s walls. My heart leaped like a starved animal lunging for food. Yes! This was my chance to escape.


    There was a small group standing a few paces short of the exit. They were busy examining the slimy grate, which had been removed and set on the ground beside them. I guessed they were the group responsible for either sewer maintenance or replacing the wards.


    Two of them were already facing my way.


    I shoved away my exhaustion and ambled my way towards them. There were who knows how many groups behind me. I didn¡¯t have time to consider what I would do. How could I run past them without being captured and make it out of the city walls? I considered the pebbles in my palms, then the people replacing the grate.


    Hit them hard enough on the head and it should knock them out, right?


    One of them let out a cry and the rest of them turned to face me.


    I was tired, and hungry, and frustrated and just wanted out. I drew back my arm, swung and released.


    The pebble flew through the air. My stomach dropped as it veered off course and missed the person I was aiming at. I was about to throw a second pebble when it collided with one of the bricks, rebounded, then struck another on the opposing side of the tunnel.


    There was an almighty crack, then part of the wall started to collapse.


    This was a bit more than you were aiming for, Cat.


    I rushed down the passage. Another rock fell. I didn¡¯t slow down at all. I doubted I¡¯d have another opportunity like this any time soon, and I could feel the breath of the guards on my tail. One of the workers let out a yelp as it smashed into him and knocked him into the water. I ducked a falling piece of debris.


    One of the wizards spat out a rapid chant.


    Bang!


    A shockwave of air reverberated outwards, sending debris away from where he stood. The gale slammed into the guards and sent them sprawling to the ground. I was thrown closer towards my goal. The remaining pebbles fell out of my palm. The debris struck the loose wall once again. More rubble began to fall.


    There was another shout.


    One of the men saw me. Their eyes widened. I wove between them, only to be struck by an elbow in the back and sent sprawling to the floor. I rolled. More debris fell. I risked a glance backwards, only to see another rock take the wizard in the head. I scrambled to my feet and darted out of the tunnels.


    The cool evening air struck me. I swallowed as I rushed away from the sewer exit at the base of the walls and towards the relative safety of the tents set just over a hundred feet away. The flicker of torchlight called to me. Both the men working at the grate and the guards called out, but none lent them their ears. A few people held up their nose as I disappeared into the crowd.


    My shoulders loosened as I finally slowed from a run to a walk.


    I was out. I was out. A part of me couldn¡¯t believe that I had made it out.


    Summerholm loomed behind me.


    I glanced once more back at the walls of the city. My grin faded. I hoped that Abigail wasn¡¯t in trouble. No, she was definitely in trouble. I hoped that the trouble wasn¡¯t too big and that she would forgive me afterwards. I didn¡¯t like leaving her like that, even though she¡¯d told me to.


    The guards were probably injured, but they deserved what they got for the trouble they gave me.


    I raised my hands and grimaced at the filth.


    Perhaps¡­ it was time to clean myself. A short detour, before starting out my journey towards the Blessed Isles.

 Perdition 6.05

    ¡°Advice is only as valuable as how much you are prepared to charge for it.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Inimical, the Miser


    <hr>


    Days passed as I travelled towards the Blessed Isles. The drab landscape wore away at my patience. Just deadened fields stretching as far as the eye could see. No guards patrolled the Imperial Highway. Each step of the journey towards the inn marked on the map dragged on like the time between meals.


    The few people that did travel the paved road gave me the side eye for some reason that I hadn¡¯t been able to figure out. Fortunately, that was the extent of my troubles. Travellers still journeyed up and down the length of the Imperial Highway, despite the ongoing rebellion against Praes. There were few merchants, and those that I did see were much better guarded than I remember them being when they came into Laure only two years past.


    The pace picked up after arriving at the Inn. The proprietor had taken one look at me and pulled me out back. It surprised me when she¡¯d handed me some supplies as well as shown me around to a midnight black pony. I¡¯d called it what it was without any better idea of what to call it. Pony and I had continued on our way after a good rest.


    The Fields of Streges were unexpectedly calm for a region consumed by strife. I only saw two roadside robberies and a single burning farmhouse while I was on the road. I was expecting more open conflict, but it seemed more like bandits taking advantage of the situation than outright warfare between the rebellion and the Legions.


    The shape of broken, blackened rising turrets was my first warning that I was approaching the Blessed Isles. If I squinted, I could almost imagine the spectral outline of the once mighty fortress shadowed against the horizon. Then came the green flames and the shadow winked out.


    The Miezan bridge would come next. It crossed over to the barren rock in the middle of the Wasaliti river. I passed another merchant. They took one look at me and pulled their convoy as far across on the opposite side of the road as they could. Assholes. I¡¯d cross over and give them a taste of my thoughts if I didn¡¯t have other things on my mind.


    A tall palisade fence had been constructed around the foot of the bridge, with watchtowers behind it. They were manned by men in black armour. The Legions of Terror. I was surprised that the rebellion hadn¡¯t tried to push them off the Blessed Isle. Perhaps the cost of making it defensible again wasn¡¯t worth it. I¡¯d nag the Reluctant Strategist about the choice to leave it alone after I¡¯d returned.


    I dug my knees into the horse¡¯s side and slowed.


    How was I going to get past the checkpoint? Should I try to swim the river, or crawl beneath the underside? Perhaps if I timed it right, then I could kill them without being caught.


    A whisper of Abigail¡¯s muttered commentary brought that line of thought to an end.


    No, those were both bad ideas. The Legion soldiers didn¡¯t appear to be stopping any other travellers. I didn¡¯t have anything on me that should interest them. I should be able to pass right by. The difficulty would come once I¡¯d found the envoys. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my dagger and I scowled. Assuming the envoys were even still alive.


    A cool autumn breeze blew through my hair and the rushing of water beckoned in the distance as my mount sped up. The late afternoon sun was dipping below the horizon. I came to a stop outside the open palisade gate. One of the Legion soldiers was manning the checkpoint.


    He squinted at me for a few moments, before shaking his head and turning away.


    ¡°Reason for passing?¡± the man barked out.


    ¡°It¡¯s calmer on that side,¡± I replied.


    He snorted.


    ¡°Kid, you¡¯re not my business.¡±


    His stance was loose, but his hand never strayed far from his sword.


    ¡°So I can pass?¡±


    ¡°You can pass.¡± His armour grated as he shook his head. ¡°My advice? Whatever you''re thinking, drop it. It''ll end in blood.¡±


    ¡°Anything I should watch out for?¡±


    ¡°There is a pair of diabolists holed up inside the cathedral.¡±


    ¡°Why is that my problem?¡± I folded my arms.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want trouble, stay out of their way.¡± He turned to the side and spat. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t be too hard to avoid. It¡¯s where we¡¯re camped.¡±


    I bit down on my smile. The envoys were still here, and I knew where they were. There would be some difficulty in spiriting them away from the Legions, but¡­ no, I was thinking about this the wrong way. I had other concerns first.


    ¡°Will I need to worry about devils while I¡¯m here?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t prepared to rescue anyone that was summoning up devils. I¡¯d rather stab them first.


    ¡°If you¡¯re worried about devils, then you should be staying on that side of the bridge.¡± The Legion soldier pointed behind me, ¡°now get moving, you¡¯re holding up everyone else.¡±


    He moved aside.


    Pony cantered onto the bridge. Legion soldiers marched up and down the Miezan relic and lit torches, spacing them each about fifteen feet apart from each other. I could hear the wind howling through the jagged, rotting teeth that had become the long abandoned walls of the fortress. The malevolent smile of that great, stony beast appeared as if it was about to swallow me whole. It wasn¡¯t long until I passed through the twisted remains of the melted gatehouse and arrived at the Blessed Isles.


    The place was more vibrant than I expected for a blackened ruin. A merchant troupe was setting up rugged tents around a crackling camp fire in the shadow of one of the broken turrets on my left. The top half had collapsed inwards and was lying against the courtyard floor. The smoky outline of shadowy figures were seared onto the shattered walls. I shivered. I could almost hear their dying screams as they were swallowed by the flames.


    Further along on the same side were the smoky remains of what I¡¯d guess was a stable. The next building along was a heavy pile of slag. It was melted down so thoroughly that I couldn¡¯t identify what it was supposed to be.


    Opposite the merchant troupe was a Legion platoon. I guessed there were around somewhere between thirty and sixty soldiers, all encamped within the ruins of the cathedral. The skeleton of the building was in surprisingly good shape, despite the missing rooftop. Well, the missing anything that I presumed had been made out of any material but stone. That only raised more questions. Where were the envoys? The guard on the bridge had mentioned them being in the cathedral somewhere¡­


    My stomach rumbled.


    There wasn¡¯t an inn nearby ¡ª or any other place to stay ¡ª which shouldn¡¯t have come as a surprise. I¡¯d had enough of going hungry to not want to do so again. If I wanted to eat tonight, then I¡¯d need to bargain with the merchants.


    My lips pressed in a line as I approached the merchant caravan.


    ¡°Evening,¡± I called out.


    A dark skinned, pot-bellied man dressed in brown overalls looked up from the fire and narrowed his eyes at me.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking for something, lass?¡± the man folded his arms.


    ¡°How much for a meal?¡±


    The merchant examined me further, then listed a price. It was expensive. I handed over some coins and waited beside the fire for the meal.


    ¡°You¡¯re young to be travelling on your own,¡± his wife sat on the bit of wall beside me.


    I shovelled another spoon of whatever the spicy dish was into my mouth and said nothing in reply. My mouth was awash with flavour between the beef, rice, spices, and other unknown ingredients.


    ¡°That beast looks a bit too rich for you,¡± she brushed the creases out of her yellow dress while she talked.


    The spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. I put it to one side.


    ¡°What¡¯s it to you?¡± I tapped the edge of my blade as I met her green eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious-¡±


    ¡°You want to know if I stole the horse,¡± I drew my dagger, then started to trim my nails.


    Her lips pressed into a line.


    ¡°Go complain to the Legions if it¡¯s a problem.¡±


    ¡°They said they¡¯re waiting for a sorcerer to relieve them, not to stop little girls who run away from home and steal an arrogant lord¡¯s horse,¡± she let out a loud harrumph.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Was that a clue? I didn¡¯t know enough about what was happening to understand why a platoon weren¡¯t able to kill two Praesi wizards. Wouldn¡¯t the wizards have escaped already if they were that dangerous?


    ¡°And you¡¯re here to sell goods and make money,¡± I grumbled.


    She didn¡¯t catch my suggestion.


    ¡°Just because they¡¯re here to prevent rebels from causing problems doesn¡¯t mean they should ignore petty thieves.¡±


    The blade slipped and nicked my fingers.


    ¡°What a pity,¡± I lifted the finger to my lips, licked the cut and smiled at her.


    She shuddered, then backed away.


    I returned the bowl, then backed away from their camp and searched for a spot of my own. I settled on the broken remains of a turret on the opposite side of the ruins. Now it was time to wait.


    Time passed. The moon rose, then clouds swallowed it whole. An eerie stillness fell over the ruins on the Blessed isle. The entire fortress was shrouded in an inky blackness, save for a glow from the cathedral, the dying fire by the merchant troupe and the torches on the bridges to either side.


    The sound of footsteps on the bridge trailing away for what must have been the hundredth time was my call to act.


    It was time.


    I slung my bag over my shoulder and started to scale the inside of the turret¡¯s skeletal remains. No wood was left upon its carcass, only the blackened outline of hard, cold stone. I crawled through a crumbled passage as I wormed my way further up the stairwell, then stood and jumped across a narrow gap to the stairs above. Soon, I reached a dead end. The passage extended no further upwards.


    I halted.


    No, I wasn¡¯t prepared to let this stop me. I dug my fingers into the cracks in the wall. The darkness wrapped itself around me like an icy blanket the higher that I scaled. A fine layer of dew had settled over the ruins. I cursed inwardly.


    The distant clanking drew nearer.


    My fingers were slick with sweat. They trembled, then slipped. I scrambled against the inside of the turret for a few moments while I reclaimed my hold.


    A scattering of rocks fell below.


    I stilled.


    There was no change to the sound of the guards moving below.


    My breath came in spurts as I continued to climb.


    Don¡¯t look down, Cat. Just because it¡¯s dark, doesn¡¯t mean it stretches on forever.


    At last, I stopped and peered down on the corpse of the fortress from the remnants of a floor further up.


    Heartbeats passed while I observed the Legion watch rotation.


    Two soldiers patrolled the bridge leading across into the Green Stretch. I guessed that another two patrolled the bridge leading back onto the Field of Streges, but I couldn¡¯t see them from where I was. I didn¡¯t know how many manned the watchtowers on either side. It was too hard for me to make them out from where I was. Four more Legion soldiers patrolled around the outside of the cathedral. Each of them always kept another in their sight.


    There was a broken gap in the closest side of the cathedral wall that I could glimpse through from where I sat. I could just make out the shapes of three men clustered around a cook pot. I couldn¡¯t see anyone else.


    It left me with a conundrum.


    How was I going to do this?


    There was no getting the wizards away from the Legions without killing them. Was I prepared to kill this many people? My stomach churned. I¡¯d killed a man before, but it had been in the heat of the moment. Now I was planning to do the same, only this time it would be in cold blood. The thought twisted in my gut. No, there was no other way. I¡¯d do it. I¡¯d committed to this. There was no backing out now.


    Which brought me back to my question.


    How was I going to do this?


    Trying to attack them all at once would only lead me to die. As much as I wished I was a hero, I wasn¡¯t one just yet. Should I risk it anyhow? That was the kind of thing that a hero would do. No, it wasn¡¯t sensible.


    Maybe I could use the merchants as a distraction? Cause some noise there and draw the Legion¡¯s attention away from the cathedral. On second thought, no. A distraction wasn¡¯t on the plate. The Legions were all trained. They were more skilled than regular guards. It would only make them more alert and lower my chances of success. That meant I needed to sneak in without any hint as to my presence at all.


    I grabbed at my dagger once more.


    I wasn¡¯t good at being sneaky.


    What options did I have?


    My biggest problem was that I didn¡¯t know enough. The only way to learn more would be by asking, or by sneaking closer. I examined the cathedral. The gap that I was peering through in the cathedral wall stuck out like a tooth. That gave me a horrible idea.


    I reached into my bag and pulled out a rope, tied the one end into a noose, then gave it an experimental tug. The noose remained firm.


    One.


    Two.


    Three.


    The noose twirled through the air, only to fall short.


    My heart leapt as if trying to flee from my chest like a thief chased by the guards. I tugged the rope back while it was still in the air, then glanced down to the ground. Nobody looked up. My shoulders slumped. A section further along the walls was closer to the cathedral than my turret was, but it was also more exposed. I glanced at the Legions on patrol. Their eyes remained alert and panned from one side of the Blessed Isle to the other. Could I cross the distance without being seen?


    I¡¯d have to find out.


    I descended the turret. Rubble blocked most of the passage to the walls, but with a tight squeeze I was able to fit through. I skulked behind what little remained of the parapet, doing my best to remain out of sight. It wasn¡¯t long before I came to the end of one shattered segment. A broken chasm yawned between me and my next landing.


    I spared a glance to all the Legions on patrol. None of them were looking my way. I backed up a few paces, sprinted forward, then jumped. My feet landed on the opposing side, only for the mortar to crumble under my step. I scrambled forward. A rain of loose rubble fell onto the ground below.


    The dull thud of boots grew louder.


    ¡°What was that?¡± the words were spoken in heavily accented Taghrebi.


    I pulled myself further into the shelter of the shattered wall top, then buried my face in the grey of my shirt and sucked in my breath. Heartbeats passed. I listened to the scrape of steel on stone as the Legion soldier came closer. The shadows almost seemed to swirl around me, enfolding me in their embrace.


    ¡°This place is still falling apart.¡±


    The man swore.


    The sound of boots faded away.


    I climbed the shattered remnants of the wall and found a better perch, then examined my target. Would the guards look up? Probably not. I whirled the rope once again. It caught. One quick tug later and I was satisfied. It would hold. I tied the other end to a part of the wall, then took a deep breath.


    This won¡¯t go wrong. This won¡¯t go wrong. This won¡¯t go wrong.


    Reach forward, tug, release, reach forward, tug, release.


    Ignore the long fall under me. Just look to the sky. The clouds are nice. The dark below can¡¯t hurt me, it won¡¯t hurt me.


    Reach forward, tug, release, reach forward, tug, release.


    The rope swung from side to side as I crossed the distance. I did my best to ignore the burning in my arms, the swaying of my hair, the shallow pants, the shakes in my legs, or the pull from the ground below.


    Reach forward, tug, release, reach forward, tug, release


    ¡°How much longer do you think we¡¯ve got to wait until we¡¯ll be sent reinforcements?¡±


    I almost let go of the rope in fright as the voice called out.


    I reached around awkwardly and seized the stone finger on the other side with one arm before painting myself onto it. Once I was satisfied that I¡¯d secured myself with one hand, I grabbed it with the other. There was a short mad scramble as I leveraged my weight onto the wall. The edge of the wall felt flimsy beneath my feet, but it was safer than remaining on the rope.


    ¡°Another day, maybe two.¡±


    The wind picked up. Smoke from the fire below blew itself into my face.


    ¡°We should¡¯ve just dug them out of that basement days ago.¡±


    My eyes watered. The smoke was making it hard to breathe.


    ¡°You know what they say, Kifo?¡±


    There was a Legion tent a few feet across and however many feet down the floor was. It was on the opposite side of the soldiers. I just needed to skirt my way over there, then I¡¯d no longer need to worry about the acrid air blowing my way from the wind.


    ¡°About what, Zulmat?¡±


    I released the exposed rock I was holding onto, hugged the wall below me, and clawed my way forward like a beetle towards the opposite side.


    ¡°Diabolists that are backed into a corner.¡±


    The sound of the Legion soldier patrolling below my perch to the right slowed, then stopped. I risked a glance over the edge. He had his hand to his brow and his eyes stretched towards the rope.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say that I do,¡± one of the three on the left coughed.


    There wasn¡¯t any time to think. I palmed a piece of rubble, squinted at the dying embers of the merchant¡¯s fire, and hurled.


    Crack!


    The stone struck against one of the logs and sent it tumbling against their tents. I held my breath and waited. The Legion soldier¡¯s attention snapped towards the merchants. A few moments later and the material caught alight. Then came the cries of alarm. I watched as the soldier on patrol ran towards the disturbance. The three men by the fire paused for a few heartbeats, only to turn back to their conversation.


    There wasn¡¯t time to be clever about this. I scrambled towards the rope.


    ¡°Don¡¯t attack them, because that¡¯s when the demons come ou-¡±


    I felt the wall lurch beneath me. The section I was walking on crumbled.


    Three pairs of eyes pierced me as I fell.


    I yelped, tucked myself into a ball and rolled.


    A moment later and my pack slammed into the roof of a tent, followed by me only a heartbeat later. The tent buckled, but cushioned my fall.


    Stomp, stomp, stomp.


    I saw a boot out of the corner of my eye.


    A soft ringing sound echoed out.


    I saw the glimmer of metal in the torchlight.


    Dazed, I struggle to raise my head.


    I blink, then find myself face to face with the gleaming edge of a blade.

 Perdition 6.06

    ¡°The price of freedom is best paid in somebody else¡¯s blood.¡±


    ¡ª Stygian slave saying.


    <hr>


    I''d be happy if the ground opened up and darkness swallowed me whole right about now.


    ¡°I warned you it would end in blood,¡± the voice at the other end of the sword grated.


    The other two figures had stood up and circled around the other side of the broken tent. Two more swords pressed themselves up against my neck. I tried to think of a way out, but came up with nothing. For some reason, all that was on my mind was how I¡¯d look like a lamb caught in steel jaws from above.


    ¡°I-¡± a metal edge trailed against my throat.


    My breath caught in my throat. My muscles locked up. A cold sweat trickled down my spine.


    ¡°Save it for the captain,¡± the man oozed malice as he spoke.


    For a moment, the gloom seemed to stretch towards the fireplace. I heard a woman shouting orders somewhere nearby. I blinked. The strangeness was gone.


    ¡°Now stand,¡± the soldier commanded. ¡°And careful. My blade might slip. You understand?¡±


    I nodded my head with the care of a wolf wriggling its paw in a hunter¡¯s trap. My captor gave me a tight-lipped smile in response. I pressed my palms to the ground and crawled to my feet. The aches in my everywhere were shoved aside by the rough poking and prodding my captors tacked on. My heart beat just a little faster with each prick of the blades against my neck.


    One of the guards moved in behind me and ripped the dagger out of the sheath on my leg. I opened my mouth to protest, only to receive another jab. It clammed shut once more. Step by step, they poked and prodded me towards the tall woman issuing orders. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms as a simmering heat curled in my chest.


    ¡°¡ª and I want you lot to check the watchtowers are secure,¡± the dark skinned captain pivoted, then looked our way. Her armour gleamed in the light. It was polished in a way that none of the others were.


    ¡°Captain Nia,¡± one of my tormentors saluted the woman, ¡°Here is the troublemaker.¡±


    ¡°I expect you to spin me an absolutely fascinating yarn once I start asking questions,¡± her sky blue eyes met my own.


    Three swords remained ringed around my neck. The short haired blonde with captain¡¯s stripes stood in an open ring beside a blackened block of stone that stood on its own at the far end of the cathedral. I guessed it was what remained of an altar. It appeared as if she was using it as a table.


    The shadows cast by the torchlight seemed to lengthen for a moment, then stretched in the wrong direction. Was I imagining it? The churning in my stomach said no. I blinked again. They snapped back to where they were.


    The captain focused on her soldiers once again and continued issuing orders. I didn¡¯t pay any attention to what she said. I focused on the shadows, then pushed. For a few heartbeats, I felt nothing. Then, the faintest of responses. They flickered from one side of the light to the other, only to return to where they were before. I glanced around.


    ¡°¡ª involved were you bags of coin in this mess?¡± captain Nia asked.


    The pot-bellied merchant and his wife had been herded towards the other side of the block.


    ¡°I assure you that any fault in this matter lies squarely with the girl,¡± the man tugged repeatedly at the silk tassels hanging off his rich blue jacket.


    Nobody appeared to have noticed. I bit down on my tongue, then winced. Better that then to smile. I reached out to the shadows again, only for them to slip from my grasp. It felt like trying to move an ox using only a yarn of wool. Something about the experience made me feel uneasy. I pushed the feeling aside. I couldn¡¯t afford to hesitate if I wanted to live.


    ¡°That would be convenient for you, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± Nia tapped one of her feet against the floor. ¡°I think it¡¯s safer if I take you prisoner regardless. My superiors would have my hide if I let someone important slip through the cracks.¡± She gave them a hard smile. ¡°Unless you have some way to convince me otherwise?¡±


    I ignored the interrogation in favour of planning my way out of the nest of hornets that I¡¯d landed in. My attention split. Half of it went to fight with the shadows, the other half went to finding ways to stall. I wasn¡¯t sure if I could lie my way out of it, but I¡¯d try it before I tried anything else. Each attempt to tug at the shadows proved only a little less frustrating than the one before. Captain Nia ordered the merchants to be taken prisoner, then focused on me.


    ¡°Now,¡± she smiled. It wasn¡¯t reassuring. ¡°You¡¯re going to sell me a story. I¡¯d recommend that you make it convincing.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to interrupt the show,¡± One of the blades against my neck pressed harder. I winced, but quickly gritted my teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction. ¡°Could you just carry on with the act as if I wasn¡¯t here?¡±


    ¡°Show?¡± there was a harsh clang as she clapped. ¡°This should be good.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this a theatre troupe?¡±


    I reached out to the shadows cast by the furthest torch in the broken cathedral and tugged. It was better to experiment where it was harder to spot. The response was faint ¡ª sluggish ¡ª but there was a response. They felt cold, slippery, almost alive. My fingers twitched as I started to figure out what I could do.


    ¡°A¡­ theatre troupe?¡± she blinked.


    ¡°I sneaked in to watch the re-enactment of the Many Deaths of Traitorous,¡± I lied. ¡°You were just about to stage the scene where-¡±


    The shadows barely responded. They were sluggish and uncooperative.


    ¡°Where we descend into the caverns to slaughter the Order of the Unholy Obsidian,¡± she rubbed her forehead and sighed. ¡°The Grandmaster feigns death, only-


    ¡°¡ª to reveal that he was Dread Emperor Traitorous all along,¡± I finished.


    ¡°That is indeed how it goes,¡± she mused.


    I tried to push them closer, push them into the flame. It was easier at first, then became more challenging once I passed a point about half the distance between where the shadows would usually lie and their source.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I gave her a wide-eyed stare. ¡°So, can I watch?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love to know how a girl with Deoraithe blood like you even learned that story,¡± she muttered. ¡°It was a nice try, kid, now try another one. Let¡¯s start with your name.¡±


    ¡°Taylor,¡± I lied.


    That hero might as well be useful for something.


    ¡°Right, Taylor¡­¡± she tasted the name. ¡°Since you¡¯re feeling so creative, let¡¯s give this another go. Explain this,¡± she tapped the dagger beside her on the altar.


    ¡°It¡¯s for gutting fish.¡±


    ¡°Fish,¡± her eyebrows rose. ¡°And the armour?¡±


    ¡°They have large teeth.¡±


    Her lips twitched.


    ¡°The Wasaliti River is of course a well known place to fish,¡± the words were drier than the hottest of summers in Laure.


    The blackness had pooled around the base of the torch and formed a concentrated blob. I prodded them on one side, only for them to push back on the other. Frustrated, I started to squeeze lightly against them from all sides at once.


    ¡°That was the plan?¡±


    ¡°There are faster ways to catch fish,¡± Nia folded her arms.


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°We could always test that armours resilience,¡± she grinned at me, ¡°after all, I¡¯m certain that you¡¯d make for good bait.¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t much meat on my bones.¡±


    ¡°Right. I¡¯ve heard enough of this,¡± her voice became hard. ¡°Tell me a story that doesn¡¯t end with a blade through-¡±


    I gave the shadows one last shove. The umbral working slammed into the pole. There was a thunderous crack as the torch exploded into a rain of splinters. I winced as another blade pricked at my throat. The murk spilled over the leftmost corner of the cathedral.


    Silence fell.


    Every Legion soldier in attendance turned their attention towards the disturbance.


    Nia¡¯s gaze returned to me.


    ¡°What was that?¡± I asked.


    She pursed her lips.


    ¡°You should look at it before somebody else falls in,¡± I tried.


    She tapped her fingers against her side. A soldier approached from our right and asked for orders. She addressed them for a heartbeat, before returning the full weight of her gaze to me more.


    ¡°You know,¡± she began, dragging out every word. ¡°As entertaining as the tale you¡¯ve woven so far is, I¡¯ve only got so much time. Start speaking, kid,¡± her voice took on a hard tone. ¡°Better make whatever tale you tell me this time a good one.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s smarter to just kill her, Captain. She could be a hero,¡± my leftmost captor suggested.


    ¡°She¡¯s not a hero,¡± Nia dismissed.


    ¡°But the torch-¡±


    ¡°Events like that occasionally occur in the wasteland when it¡¯s cold,¡± the captain¡¯s armour rustled as she pointed towards the splinters.


    ¡°It¡¯s not cold, Captain,¡± Zulmat tried once more.


    ¡°I¡¯m not hearing any more about this,¡± she stated. ¡°The girl is a spy, not a hero. We¡¯d be dead otherwise.¡±


    I bit my tongue a second time in an effort to hide my fear. What could I do to get out of this? I tried to pull on all the darkness at once, only for them to flee from my grasp. I almost growled. No, better to wait. There was a narrow hope I¡¯d be kept with the other prisoners. It would be easier to escape without blades at my throat.


    ¡°We¡¯re not equipped for an interrogation,¡± the man muttered.


    ¡°There¡¯s a chance of promotion for me depending on what the kid knows,¡± her attention left Zulmat and returned to me. ¡°Now talk. Whatever tale you weave this time better be convincing.¡±


    ¡°I thought they were all good,¡± I grumbled, only to receive another jab from a blade.


    Right, pointy swords ringing my neck. Don¡¯t forget that, Cat.


    ¡°I¡¯m the Black Knight¡¯s Squire,¡± I lied. ¡°He sent me here to fetch something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you could tell me exactly what that something is.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I lied. ¡°I was only told that they had it.¡±


    ¡°A likely story,¡± she snorted. ¡°Although¡­ that lie might have even got past me if you had opened with it.¡±


    ¡°He wanted me to probe your fortifications.¡±


    ¡°Did he?¡± there was something hidden in her voice that I couldn¡¯t quite piece together. She folded her arms once again. ¡°Tell me,¡± she whispered, ¡°what conclusion have you come to?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re even proper Legion soldiers?¡± I asked. ¡°You should have caught me long before I got this far. And really, not one of you are standing in form-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough lip and not enough actionable information for one night,¡± Nia interrupted, then turned towards my captors. ¡°Give her a reason to be less mouthy.¡±


    My breath caught in my throat. Captain Nia thought I was a spy. She wanted to keep me alive for answers. Maybe trying to escape wasn¡¯t so stupid.


    They pulled back their arms.


    Run!


    I pivoted and dashed between two of the guards¡­ perhaps I could-


    Crack!


    Pain. A gauntleted fist took me on the jaw. I tried to rise to my feet.


    You can get out of this, Cat. You have to.


    Crack!


    I whimpered. Another fist, this time to the side of my ribs. This time I didn¡¯t even reach my knees before I was sent cracking to the ground. I started to hum an unknown tune at the back of my head. Anything to keep away the throbbing in my sides.


    Crack!


    My eyes stung. I¡­ wasn¡¯t going to get away. I curled up into a ball on the ground. Fury burned deep within my chest. I hated this. I wasn¡¯t going to let them-


    A boot slammed against my arms.


    Crack!


    I lost count of the strikes. It wasn¡¯t so bad at first. No worse than anything I¡¯d endured before. What hurt far more was the humiliation. I should have been faster. I should have been more aware. All that time spent stealing from merchants only to suffer through this. Then those thoughts died as the strikes all blurred together. The world became a wash of colours as every part of me lit up in agony.


    It dragged on.


    And on.


    And on.


    Too long. Was the torture ever going to end?


    Make it stop.


    Make it stop.


    Please?


    I started to pull back into myself. My mind faded. A salty, metallic taste pooled at the base of my mouth. Everything became muted. A seed of spite planted itself within my heart. Why was everything spinning? Were those clouds? Why were there so many people around me? Why did the Captain have four arms? There was a ringing noise in my ears. I almost seemed to float.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    No.


    I was floating.


    Captain Nia was dangling me off the ground by my ponytail. The air was rank with the scent of blood and bile. She seized my jaw tight with the other hand, then leaned in close and pressed her face against my ear.


    ¡°I should have had a promotion months ago. Instead, I¡¯m stuck here waiting out some two bit good for nothing Sahelian sorcerers!¡± She paused. ¡°Goblins are the true virtuosos when it comes to torture,¡± her words were whispered like sugar, but there was nothing sweet about them. ¡°They can compose a symphony from your screams. I suggest you start singing before our mission here ends. I¡¯ll turn you over to them if you don¡¯t.¡±


    I spat flecks of gore in her face. It was easier than trying to talk.


    She slapped me across the face, stepped away, then dropped me on the ground. Was my arm supposed to look like that? I didn¡¯t think it was.


    ¡°Give her some time to think with the other three prisoners,¡± she commanded, ¡°but pay more attention to her.¡± She patted me on the cheeks. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want dear Taylor here to get any ideas about escaping, would we?¡±


    Zulmat grabbed me by the shoulders and guided me away. A lance of pain arced through my legs with every step I took. Between a line of tents, through an open archway and down a set of stairs.


    ¡°Used to hate beating kids like you,¡± he grunted. Then I got over it. Should¡¯ve listened, kid,¡± the man muttered. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have tried anything.¡±


    The staircase opened out into a wide room with a narrow corridor on the other end. The corridor was barricaded by a combination of rocks and a palisade fence. Two men manned the barricade. I was guided to a room on the left shared by the merchants. Both of them glared at me as I was led inside.


    There was another guard. Zulmat talked to him for a few heartbeats, adjusting his battered gauntlets every other moment while he talked. Told him not to take his eyes off me. Then, he approached. Zulmat spent a few moments pulling off my armour before I was sent sprawling against the floor in my dull cotton shirt and trousers. I didn¡¯t look at my arms or legs. I didn¡¯t want to see the bruises on them.


    The woman pulled her yellow dress back into the corner and sniffed.


    I closed my eyes for a moment.


    The sounds of footsteps faded away.


    Get your head together, Cat.


    I opened my eyes. I spat onto the floor. It wasn¡¯t enough to clear the salty tang of blood staining my mouth.


    I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m fine. There¡¯s nothing wrong. I can do this. I can get out of this.


    My arms trembled. Shallow breaths escaped my lips.


    Don¡¯t give up. It¡¯s bad, but the streets were worse. I can get out of this. Right?


    I blinked.


    I held up one arm before me and saw two.


    This¡­ wasn¡¯t good.


    I looked around.


    There was either one or two brown eyed guards seated on a chair beside the doorway and only a single light beside them.


    I considered them for a few moments and decided that there was only one.


    What now?


    A part of me argued that I should just stay here. It argued that it was better than to risk being hurt again. I stomped down on it. I wasn¡¯t prepared to give up. Not now. Not ever. I¡¯d rather do anything than give up.


    This would be so much easier if I was ten years older and twice as tall.


    I reached towards the dimming light behind the guard. The darkness billowed as I called. The feeling was still tenuous, but this time there was a difference. It was almost like an eager beast. I had no clue what I was doing. I had no clue what I could do with them.


    What I did know was that I only had one chance to escape. There was no chance that they wouldn¡¯t kill me if I was caught. So I focused my attention on the guard¡¯s neck. Focused, then squeezed.


    The shadows answered.


    The guard¡¯s eyes widened for a few moments ¡ª it looked as if he was about to rise ¡ª I focused on his legs next. Then, his arms. It was working. My plan was working! I smiled, then winced as my shirt brushed against my bruises.


    An uneasy feeling settled within my gut as the man writhed against his tenebrous bonds. The flame flickered. The shadows stretched. I brushed the feeling aside. It didn¡¯t matter if this was right or wrong. Now wasn¡¯t the time to hesitate. I needed to survive.


    I heard a gasp from behind me.


    The merchant¡¯s wife was staring at me with wide eyes. An umbral gag shoved itself into both of their mouths. My head throbbed. Effort. Using the shadows this way drained me like nothing else. I didn¡¯t have it in me to do much more. I couldn¡¯t afford to restrain them.


    ¡°Stay here and keep quiet,¡± I grinned their way even though it hurt.


    A distant part of me noted that I¡¯d never seen someone with dark skin pale before.


    There was a first time for everything.


    I released the gag, then turned back to the guard. My shoulders relaxed when neither of them said a word. A couple of hundred more heartbeats passed before the guard slumped. Dead. He was dead. I waited a little longer before releasing him, then sighed in relief.


    I hobbled to my feet.


    One step forward.


    Rats gnawed my sides.


    I let out a gasp, then clutched at my chest. None of this was a good idea, but I was already in too deep to do anything but try to swim out. That, or drown. I didn¡¯t fancy the idea of drowning.


    Another step. Then another. I collapsed against the wall. Where was the corpse? It was on the other side of the room. My everything protested as I collapsed to the floor, then crawled to the other side. I struggled with the guard¡¯s weapon for a moment before realizing that I was too hurt to fight with a blade.


    What next? Out. I needed to escape. Could I stand? I didn¡¯t want to stand.


    No Cat, don¡¯t think that way.


    I fought with the stool for a few moments, before leaning against the wall.


    Breathe in, breathe out.


    Release.


    I limped my way out of the temporary prison and stuck my head around the corner. Both the guards at the palisade were alert, but not looking my way. I pulled at the shadows once again.


    They answered even faster this time.


    Agony danced down my sides. I needed a distraction from my wreck of a body. Would a song work? I knew a few, but none seemed appropriate. Battlefield songs didn¡¯t fit this kind of execution, but the only other music I knew was church hymns and nursery rhymes.


    Both men struggled against their inky prisons. Fought, but made no headway.


    I took another step forward. My head spun.


    ¡°One¡­ Two¡­¡± I began to hum in an effort to keep away the pain. ¡°I¡¯ll find you.¡±


    My opponents¡¯ eyes fell upon me, then widened.


    ¡°Three¡­ Four¡­¡± I continued. ¡°Blood on the floor.¡±


    Their faces began to purple.


    ¡°Five¡­ Six¡­¡± I winced, ¡°Your head on the bricks.¡±


    I hobbled my way towards the staircase as they collapsed on the ground.


    ¡°Seven¡­ Eight¡­¡± I whispered. ¡°It¡¯s much too late.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know how much time I had before somebody came to investigate. I kept humming as I climbed. A dozen steps up and I slipped. I cursed the stairs as I forced myself back to my feet.


    ¡°¡ª think we¡¯ll see anything else this evening?¡± a woman asked from above.


    ¡°Hope not,¡± somebody replied. ¡°Quiet nights are the best.¡±


    My eyes peeked over the top of the staircase. I called upon the beast once more. The shadows answered. They coiled tight around both of the guards neck''s. There was a snap. I blinked through the fog around my thoughts. Both of them crumpled to the ground.


    Dead.


    Two more steps, then I slammed into the ground. The cut of a knife jolted through me again. I felt metal squeeze around my neck.


    ¡°What did you do to them,¡± a voice hissed into my ears.


    Another fist crunched against my chest.


    I tried to escape the hold. Jab to ribs, pivot, pull. My fingers struck against steel. The grip on my neck tightened.


    ¡°There¡¯ll be none of that,¡± the man growled.


    I heard his fist pull back again.


    Short, quick breaths fled from my lips. What now? How do I get out of this? I reached for the shadows blindly. Reached, pulled, pushed.


    A fan of inky blackness with a razor sharp edge swirled out from me.


    My assailant didn¡¯t even have time to shriek before they were shredded. Blood. So much blood. Ribbons of gore splashed outwards. Small chunks rained back down upon me. I was drenched from head to toe in somebody else¡¯s blood. I hobbled back to my feet. My right arm remained cradled against my chest as I limped towards the door.


    The passage was deserted save for the dull flickering of torchlight.


    One by one I snuffed them all out.


    The low murmur of voices in the main chamber brought me to an abrupt halt.


    My heart raced.


    Angry insects swarmed beneath my skin. I blinked. Eerie phantoms danced behind my lids.


    I stepped into the chamber and heaved.


    It was so much easier than before.


    The light within the cathedral died.


    There was a brief moment of confusion as Legion soldiers scrambled from their tents. A dark thread lashed out. Then another. Then another. Their necks snapped one by one. The captain. Where was the captain? She and I had a talk to finish. A Legion soldier¡¯s eyes fell upon me. A lance impaled him from below.


    A rattle. Was that a crossbow? I staggered to the side and fell against the altar.


    The gloom roiled.


    Soldiers shouted, cried, whimpered. Swords rattled. A group of five ¡ª maybe ten ¡ª of them formed up into a line behind shields.


    Their efforts amounted to nothing.


    A wave rose up.


    A wave crashed down.


    Dissipated.


    All of them were gone.


    A distant part of me felt the thrill of combat. Another part of me recoiled in horror. Both were muted, drowned out beneath an ocean of suffering.


    I stumbled through the camp in a daze.


    This was what you wanted, right Cat?


    The beast purred. I shook. The sensation was strong. It called to me, crooned. Whispered sweet promises into my ears. All I needed to do was go along with what it wanted.


    It was so tempting.


    So easy.


    All I needed to do was feed its endless gluttony.


    I felt its call thrum through me once again.


    My mind was far away.


    Where was the captain?


    Another step.


    Then another.


    No, that was the wrong way. More to the right.


    I tripped once more. The fingers of my left hand curled around the hilt of a blade. I dug the point of the blade into the stone. I trembled. Crimson stained hair fell before my eyes. I didn¡¯t have it in me to brush it away. I heaved.


    Shallow breaths.


    I staggered through the door of the cathedral out into the open courtyard. Pony stood completely unruffled where I¡¯d left her at the ruins of the stables. The cool evening air settled upon my forehead, mixed in among the sweat and blood. Silent. It was so silent. A stark contrast to the chaos inside the cathedral. Was it always like this? Another blink. I pulled the shadows in towards me. A blanket. Something to hide me from the world.


    Was there anyone else? I looked around. I didn¡¯t see anyone else. Best not to leave it to chance.


    Another step.


    I wasn¡¯t sure where my feet were taking me.


    Anywhere was better than¡­ than¡­


    Anywhere was better than here.


    Lights up ahead.


    A roar. A loud roar from below. Was that the beast? No, it was something else. Water. The river. Was that the bridge?


    I let out a strangled laugh.


    The captain. Halfway along the bridge. There was the captain.


    Whiff. Whiff. Whiff.


    The lights on the bridge snuffed out.


    Another step.


    Commotion on the watchtowers. That wasn¡¯t¡­ wouldn¡¯t do. I called and the shadows answered. A wave of tendrils rose up from the ground, then slammed into the towers. The base of the towers shook, then shattered. There were screams, then sickening thuds.


    Another step.


    The captain had drawn her sword.


    That wouldn¡¯t do. Ropes around the arms and the legs and the neck. Ropes to lash and cut and bind.


    She was opening her mouth.


    ¡°Perhaps I misjudged,¡± she sounded unruffled. ¡°Perhaps you are his appr-¡±


    I didn¡¯t¡­ didn¡¯t want to hear her speak.


    Not because what she said was wrong, but because I didn¡¯t want to hear a word of it. Not from her, at the very least.


    Captain Nia¡¯s eyes narrowed as shadows coiled themselves around her mouth. She thrashed from side to side. Her efforts yielded as many fruits as beggars fighting over crumbs in an empty bowl.


    My anger was far away, distant, buried beneath the pain. She was the reason I was hurting. She was the reason for all of this. I wasn¡¯t going to let her escape.


    Eerie tendrils dragged her to the edge of the bridge. She thrashed against her bonds. Struggled and glared. Her efforts amounted to nothing.


    I staggered over.


    Shadows pulled her over the lip.


    The sword I was using to support myself clattered to the ground as I seized her by the neck.


    ¡°I think¡­¡± I rasped. ¡°I think the fish will like the taste of you more.¡±


    A spear of shadows pierced through her heart.


    I shoved, then turned.


    There was a muted splash as her corpse plunged into the frigid waters.


    Where should I head to next?


    I raised a bloodstained hand and considered it for a moment.


    The truth stared back at me.


    I¡¯m not a hero, am I, Cat?


    The uncomfortable knot in my stomach bubbled up. Acid burned in my throat. I heaved.


    Come to your senses.


    That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t fight for what I believed in. It just meant that I¡¯d need to do things differently. The heroes¡­ couldn¡¯t hear about this. I wanted to support them. I needed to support them.


    What should I do?


    Witnesses. I couldn¡¯t¡­ I couldn¡¯t leave any witnesses.


    The watchtowers on the other side. The merchants.


    I picked up the sword and staggered my way back to the Blessed Isles.


    One step. Then another. Then another.


    It was hard to ignore the dull droning at the back of my head. It was hard to ignore the whimpers crawling out of my throat. I crossed the Blessed Isle and cleared out the watchtowers on the opposing side. It was trivial after everything else. At last, I returned to the cathedral. All my strength had long since gone out of me. My eyelids dragged on the ground.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how many times my leaden limbs had stumbled before I passed through the broken arch again.


    Somebody had relit the torches.


    My eyes trailed over the corpses. I was too fatigued to properly appreciate the carnage. I spotted three people standing at the far end of the room. The merchants. They were bound, tied up on the altar.


    ¡°Promise to let me leave,¡± Zulmat said from the opposite side of the altar.


    The words came as such a surprise that they almost sent me sprawling to the floor.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    I didn¡¯t see a convincing reason to.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let them live,¡± he tapped the edge of his blade against their throats. ¡°You¡¯re with the rebellion. Heroes don¡¯t let innocents die.¡±


    They''re Praesi merchants. They''re with the enemy. You can''t let them rat you out.


    I squashed down another empty laugh. It wasn¡¯t worth the pain.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think,¡± I coughed, ¡°I don¡¯t think that I¡¯m a hero.¡±


    Even if I wanted to be one.


    Darkness swelled. Three pairs of eyes widened. A wave of shadows crashed on the altar.


    Silence fell once again.


    I limped over to the altar. Set down the sword. Leaned against it and closed my eyes.


    Not even the distant murmuring of two voices was enough to break me out of my exhaustion.


    I saw a yellow light through the lids of my eyes. A coolness washed over me, then the agony disappeared.


    Dirty purple robes greeted me as I opened my eyes.


    I looked up. Met the gaze of two Praesi men. The sorcerers. I¡¯d forgotten about the sorcerers. I said some words then ¡ª I can¡¯t remember what ¡ª before closing my eyes again.


    The three of us all departed for Summherholm a few hours after the dawn of the next day.


    The mission was a success. It wasn''t enough to shake the shroud that had fallen over my thoughts. The Legion soldiers were dead. I should be happy. I should be celebrating. A part of me even was. There was a tiny sliver which was steeped in satisfaction. Everything about that part unsettled the rest of me.


    Was this really who I was?


    Was this what I was supposed to be?

 Perdition 6.0b

    ¡°What heroes don¡¯t seem to understand is that if history remembers them kindly, they either failed or didn¡¯t try hard enough.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Empress Regalia


    <hr>


    Heiress¡¯s mind soared through the clouds while her hands gripped the brim of a wide bowl of baked clay set on the table before her.


    The northern front of the conflict between Aksum and the Legions was by far the most brutal. It was the front the Warlock was most often seen on and proved the most illuminating to observe.


    Akua observed another clash between a retreating line of Legion infantry covered by crossbowmen and one of the new creatures fielded by the High Lady of Aksum. It was just one fight among many that were occurring all at once on the multiple fronts spread across the wasteland.


    The red and silver striped many armed snakelike monstrosity was a grotesque amalgamation of both dust and stone, shifting between one and the other whenever the whimsy took it. It had been called a Living Statuary by its creator. The beast was more of a hostile sentient zone of influence than a traditional monster, and about as hard to kill or control as that implied. Anything that it touched was petrified. Plants, animals, dirt, everything save the air itself. Broken statues of those who failed to escape its grasp lay scattered across the now stone dunes.


    It was one creature among many that had been conceived of by the insane brilliance of the Mad Cartographer. He had been a sorcerer who was set on mapping the hells through divination and cataloguing all the types of devils within them before earning his Name. Now he crafted creatures inspired by the many types of devils he had discovered in some of the more hazardous hells. He was responsible for many of the more esoteric monsters that now plagued the wasteland. More than one attempt against his life had been made by the Calamities so far, but the High Lady of Aksum had invested much into keeping him alive.


    Akua¡¯s thoughts drifted elsewhere. The vision shifted to the eastern front.


    Another fight. This time the clash was between a cohort of Legion sorcerers and half a dozen Blade Orangutans. These beasts were far less alien in construction. They were a patchwork creation designed from the stitched together bodies of orangutans and metal blades. Akua concluded at a glance that the conflict was headed in favour of the imperial ranks when the Captain entered the fray.


    Monsters like these fit the mould of the older designs of the wizards of Aksum. The Nightmare Shaper was a bit of a disappointment as far as Akua was concerned. She was far less inspired when it came to the types of Evils that she produced. Her creations were fielded side by side with many of the Aksum classics. There was at least one invisible tiger army spread out among the cliffs, and Akua smiled when she saw a legion of devils let loose against another line of soldiers.


    It was the new monstrosities rather than the old ones which were the source of Aksum¡¯s confidence. Creatures made by the Mad Cartographer and the Nightmare Shaper. Wolof¡¯s spies had discovered evidence of a third villain called the Wretch Binder that specialized in fabricating horrors through the manipulation of souls within Aksum. None of their creatures had fought against the Legions yet. They were a special brand of terror that was likely reserved for once the conflict approached its end.


    There had been a fourth villain. The Esoteric Butcher had designed creatures with the intent of mimicking the function of demons. The villain was far more ambitious than skilled, but even in failure, that ambition had borne fruit. He had perished at the hands of the only monster he had invented only two days past.


    The conflict between the Tower and Aksum had started to enter its later stages and would likely end soon. Either at a table or on the battlefield.


    Akua acknowledged that the Warlock was far more successful than she expected at keeping a lid on the many bottles of Evil that had been unleashed given the circumstances, and her estimation of his abilities rose as a consequence. The ongoing conflicts did much to tease out all of the many secrets that the current rulers of Praes had at their beck and call.


    Even a sorcerer as skilled as the current Warlock was making mistakes when spread so thin. The seventh Legion had been slaughtered to a man by the creature that killed the Esoteric Butcher. The Warlock had been otherwise occupied with containing the demons of excess, absence, and apathy that had been unleashed by the villain¡¯s death. He was unable to prevent the damage inflicted by the creature at the time, and lesser sorcerers proved incapable of eliminating the beast.


    The bile yellow luminescent mind-warping floating mushroom monstrosity in question gave off toxic spores that were fatal when inhaled. Nobody had seen fit to name the beast before the Warlock dropped hell-fire on it, and it was only after it had perished that anyone remembered it existed at all.


    The vision shifted again to the southern front.


    It appeared that for now this front was quiet. The Legions remained camped behind fortified lines, although Akua expected that soon they would push forward. It was only two days ago when she had last witnessed the clash between an uneven line of Stygian Slave soldiers and Legion infantry fortified by the Black Knight in a narrow valley close to the city of Aksum. The slaves were both armed and armoured, but didn¡¯t fare well against the might of the Legions.


    High Lady Abreha of Aksum had decreed that the soldiers were ¡°freed.¡± A technical distinction with no real weight behind it, considering they had been indoctrinated from birth to follow orders. Aksum was covertly backed by both her mother High Lady Tasia Sahelian and High Lady Takisha Muraqib, although only the High Lord of Okoro was overtly supporting Aksum¡¯s defiance of the throne. High Lady Tasia had no interest in allowing High Lady Abreha to claim the title of Dread Empress, however the conflict both weakened Malicia and set the stage for their own bid for the throne at a later date.


    The forces under the command of High Lady Abreha were putting up a much stronger front against the Legions than expected. The conflict had dragged on as a consequence, and other High Lords and Ladies were considering involving themselves, when a truce would otherwise have long since been called and the previous High Seat deposed.


    The vision shifted again and settled on Aksum itself.


    ¡°Can you see, Mpanzi?¡± her father¡¯s excited voice drifted to her through the fog, ¡°it¡¯s Ink Blot. I¡¯m certain of it.¡±


    A market set in an open plaza deep within the walls of Aksum. Merchants haggled with customers. Such a scene would in ordinary circumstances be beneath notice, but today it lay at the heart of her investigations. Akua watched as coins were counted out. She observed as an argument erupted on the streets. Watched until at long last bread was handed over. She counted in her own head in turn. Counted, and noted when the payment did not match the price written on the board beside the stall. A single event in isolation could be nothing more than happenstance, but time and time again the same sequence of events played out from one stall to another.


    ¡°Yes, papa,¡± she agreed, ¡°the symptoms of the later stages are already evident.¡±


    It was all but confirmation that the Calamities had put one of their Dark Days protocols into play. Akua considered the decision to be noteworthy, as she did not deem the situation dire enough to justify their use unless there were other threats hiding that she had yet to glimpse. It was a conscious decision that it was easier to mitigate the fallout from the weapon¡¯s use than it was to continue fighting.


    Ink Blot was by far the most subtle of all their doomsday weapons, and was designed almost entirely as a weapon against the other High Lords and Ladies of Praes. It was a ritual that could be triggered by an otherwise inert alchemical reagent that was harmless on its own.


    What made the ritual so noteworthy is that the catalyst to trigger it was a part of the Praesi field rituals that had been used for generations. Field rituals that had once again become necessary as a consequence of the chaos spreading across Calernia. It was convenient for the Empress that the catalyst left trace elements of itself embedded within the crop yields. Wolof¡¯s spies had only recently uncovered evidence of the existence of the weapon. It would be some time before they had developed an adequate countermeasure to it.


    Ink Blot caused a shift in cognitive associations related to numeracy within all who had consumed foods that were grown by rituals containing the catalyst. The ritual only impacted those in a designated region when triggered, however, the smallest region the ritual could affect was larger than the size of a small city. That vulnerability made Ink Blot unusable as a precision weapon, except when large scale collateral damage was deemed to be preferable to the alternative.


    The decay in numeric associations became progressively worse over time.


    The first stage of Ink Blot only targeted numerical associations for larger values. If a victim was presented with a chest full of coins, then no matter how they counted the coins, their final tally would always be slightly off. Lower numeric values were influenced during the later stages of the plague.


    Ink Blot appeared less dangerous than a traditional plague when considered by itself. There was no sudden spike in deaths or illnesses. The rate of engineering failures increased due to the introduction of errors that would otherwise not exist. The local economy destabilized due to the changes in spending. Problems became worse as time passed ¡ª arguments broke out because people could not agree on totals ¡ª but almost all troubles were caused by secondary effects and not by the plague itself.


    The only immediate rise in deaths occurred within the population of sorcerers.


    Trismegistan sorcery relied on precision measurements that often involved large numbers, and the errors introduced by Ink Blot rendered even the most basic of magics dangerous to the practitioner. Afflicted victims could not even risk healing themselves ¡ª let alone others ¡ª due to the dangers involved. Only the most skilled of sorcerers even had the talent to counter the effect, assuming they noticed it before perishing due to a magical failure. The plague was notable in that through happenstance alone, it tended to kill those best qualified to invent a countermeasure first. It was almost certain that the most dangerous threats to the Calamities within Aksum would already be beyond help by the time the plague was dealt with.


    The current conflict in Praes would end once the effects of Ink Blot manifested within Aksum in full.


    Akua felt the hands of her father lift off her own. She released the bowl in turn and the vision faded away.


    The face of her father came into focus from across the hickory table. Akua bit back a grimace. The Gilded Arcanist looked more satisfied than he had been in years. The increased turmoil within Praes had led to her mother loosening the restrictions on how much time Akua could spend with her father. That did nothing to quell the spike of resentment she felt every time she thought of the Name.


    ¡°I¡¯ve finished the foundational calculations,¡± he continued scribbling away at a page on his right, ¡°and it¡¯s confirmed. With the right design, a pre-conversion escapement can be constructed to make use of the Due.¡±


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°So the artefact can work then,¡± Akua smiled. ¡°Destroy any evidence of those calculations.¡±


    ¡°The theory has always supported its construction.¡±


    That was correct only in the sense that the artefact could be manufactured. There was no safe way to deploy it without Keter¡¯s Due killing the practitioner. At least, there hadn¡¯t been in the past.


    The ritual array her father had designed to discern newly awakened Names was only novel in scale. Devices capable of detecting the manifestations of Names had long existed. The array was an iteration on old designs that had been improved upon using Akua¡¯s research into demons, and was only a practical demonstration of the smallest part of her grander scheme. Further refinements on the initial idea as well as many additions would be required to achieve her final design.


    A design which she intended to keep locked away safely within her own mind until it was ready to be unveiled.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need to determine the most fitting location to perform the ritual,¡± Heiress mused.


    Finding the crown of the new Fae Court was proving to be a stimulating magical puzzle and was one of only a few pieces she¡¯d need to put together in order to begin fabricating her masterpiece. Akua had proven that the Crown did exist using resonance between coins taken from the Ravel Bank and the Aspirant¡¯s journal, even so its current location remained shrouded in mystery. The outline of her ambitions was still in the early stages, and many complications remained unanswered. The design of the ritual array and an adequate source to power the finished device were two of the larger outstanding problems.


    Her father looked up from his calculations and was about to reply when her mother walked into the room. High Lady Tasia Sahelian was just over fifty years old, though she looked barely half of that. Her appearance was no glamour: rituals to maintain the physical trappings of youth and the same superior breeding that had led to both their beauty were more than enough. High cheekbones and perfect eyebrows, dark golden eyes and full lips. She was everything Akua was taught to admire.


    ¡°Mother,¡± Akua greeted her.


    ¡°Akua,¡± her mother replied. ¡°Leave your current studies and come through to the solar.¡±


    Her mother always expected her to determine what questions she was expected to ask, and to answer questions that had not been given voice.


    ¡°Who is the guest?¡±


    Akua rose from her seat and brushed aside any creases on her red dress. Her mother departed the room at a sedate pace. Akua followed behind and bid her father farewell as she stepped out of the room.


    ¡°It¡¯s a negotiation conducted through scrying with the rebellion in Callow.¡±


    The rebellion in Callow was only useful insofar as it continued to cut away at the influence of the current Dread Empress in Praes. It would serve no further purpose in the years to come, once Malicia had at last been toppled from the throne.


    ¡°I¡¯m to remain out of sight?¡±


    ¡°Under Ibrahim¡¯s mirror,¡± her mother passed her a heavy gem encrusted leather-bound book.


    Akua glanced at the title, then raised an eyebrow. A Stranger¡¯s Guide to Names in Calernia. It was evident that her mother expected her to study the contents. The Proceran House of Light hadn¡¯t been quiet when publishing their new book, and so Akua was already aware of its existence.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think the House of Light produced books so richly adorned,¡± Akua commented.


    ¡°They don¡¯t,¡± her mother sounded amused. ¡°Look at the contents page.¡±


    Akua did as she was bid and then raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°You had the book transcribed,¡± Akua surmised.


    ¡°It¡¯s about the principle of the matter,¡± her mother agreed.


    It wasn¡¯t long before both of them stepped into the solar. The walls were panelled with light coloured hickory imported from the southern stretches of Callow. Precious stones and gilding ornamented anything of importance, and the arched ceiling was enchanted to show a perfect reproduction of the stormy sky above Ater.


    The two of them approached two chairs set down beside each other in front of a full body mirror.


    Akua placed the book on the table to her left, then examined her fingernails while she reclined in her plush satin chair. She tapped three times against a sapphire gemstone embedded within the arm. It wasn¡¯t long before the enchantment on the chair activated, and she faded from sight.


    The silvered surface of the mirror shimmered. The Reluctant Strategist¡¯s piercing grey eyes met those of her mother. Akua noted that reports of the woman¡¯s condition had ¡ª if anything ¡ª underestimated the extent of the deterioration. There were sentient cacti in the wasteland with healthier skin.


    The information they uncovered on the Deoraithe woman mentioned that until recently she had been a minor strategist of no real note, with only a single exception. While she was not considered skilled at winning battles, she was considered far more skilled at predicting the worst possible outcomes ¡ª within reason ¡ª for battlefield strategy than even the most seasoned generals.


    ¡°High Lady Tasia Sahelian,¡± the woman greeted. ¡°Tell me what you want.¡±


    Further notes on the Reluctant Strategist indicated that her body language served as a better measure of her thoughts than her tone of voice or choice of words, and that she fell back on her training when angry or unsettled. Spies within both the Eyes of the Empire and the Rebellion indicated that she had an aspect called Forecast. The aspect cost her a month of her life each time she called upon it. The aspect was believed to be oracular in nature, however the Eyes of the Empire noted that the Reluctant Strategist had never disclosed the exact details of what it did. Her other aspects remained unknown, but were suspected to be related to leadership.


    ¡°Reluctant Strategist,¡± Akua¡¯s mother replied. ¡°We have received word hinting that your rebellion is suffering from a dearth of supplies.¡±


    It was the feeling of eyes upon her that alerted Akua to the presence of another.


    Akua remained nonchalant, even though by all accounts she should be veiled from sight. She examined the room projected from the mirror while she considered what she knew. The Reluctant Strategist wore a simple cotton shirt and trousers. She reclined on a rock slab set some distance from the mirror, with a pile of documents set atop her lap.


    The dull light of a fire flickered on her right, and the shadow of a figure fell across the floor before her. Akua judged it to be one of the emissaries. One of them would be required to maintain the scrying ritual, even if they were not in sight of the mirror itself.


    ¡°Give me the offer.¡± The woman picked up one of the pages and set it beside her, ¡°I¡¯m doing the work of over a dozen people and don¡¯t have the time for verbal trickery.¡±


    Further examination of the space on the opposing end of the scrying ritual at last bore fruit. The shadows behind the Reluctant Strategist had a depth to them that didn¡¯t appear natural. Akua considered her observations, then leaned in to Catalogue to make sense of what she saw.


    ¡°The Dread Empress placed restrictions on the circulation of a specific currency within the Dread Empire of Praes. We are interested in an exchange of currency with the rebellion as a consequence.¡±


    A stocky, brown haired girl with narrow cheekbones and Deoraithe colouring stood opposite Akua and was hiding within the Reluctant Strategist¡¯s shadow. It was an amateur working. One done by a villain who was new to their Name. Akua¡¯s mouth twitched. She noted that the shadows under the girl¡¯s eyes were off. Not in the sense that the girl looked like she lacked sleep, but that they fell just short of the positions they belonged.


    None of that explained how the girl was seeing through Ibraham¡¯s Mirror.


    Or had Akua made a mistake and the girl had seen nothing at all?


    ¡°Why should I consider this?¡± the Reluctant Strategist asked.


    Further examination of the girl suggested that her eyes had fallen upon Akua by happenstance. The girl¡¯s attention remained focused upon High Lady Tasia and never returned to Akua herself.


    ¡°It serves our interests to see the rebellion flourish at present.¡±


    ¡°One aurelii in exchange for five coins minted by the Ravel Bank,¡± the Reluctant Strategist offered. ¡°Nobody but us are willing to use that coinage.¡±


    Akua felt a twinge of surprise. Her mother had made no mention of the specifics of the negotiation. The aged youth was informing them that she knew more than she should by opening with an offer of her own.


    ¡°Your offer is ambitious,¡± her mother began, ¡°however, an exchange of one to one with another half in goods the rebellion requires seems far more equitable.¡±


    Callow hadn¡¯t had a mint of its own in years. Even the current rebellion was still relying on the Empire¡¯s coin. The people of Callow had Praesi coin in excess, but no goods to spend it on. The price of everything had risen as a consequence.


    ¡°One to five,¡± the grey eyed woman repeated. ¡°Further loans will also be taken out by Callow with the Ravel Bank.¡±


    Her mother blinked, before raising her hand and laughing.


    ¡°I believe that the Calamities have underestimated you,¡± she murmured. ¡°Iron sharpens iron, Mabli of Daoine.¡±


    The woman reeled back as if slapped.


    Her mother and the Reluctant Strategist continued to negotiate terms of trade. They settled upon one is to two, although an additional quarter of that would be delivered in goods. All transactions were to occur through intermediaries. The agreement would give Wolof the leverage it needed to continue scheming against the Tower, while also turning the attention of Malicia somewhere else.


    Akua picked up the book beside her and paged through it as further discussion unrelated to the negotiation itself commenced. She made note of several stories that ended with Evil claiming the ending, and smiled inside at the thought. The Calamities were too ossified to risk experimenting with new narratives. They had forgotten what it meant to be Praesi. Malicia would set aside the stories within the book, and in doing so would spit on all that had come before her. It was a chance for Evil to not just claw for scraps but rise up and claim its own victory.


    Akua would not turn away from that opportunity.


    The mirror rippled once more, then became inert.


    Three taps on the sapphire and the spell around Akua faded.


    ¡°What did you learn?¡± two golden orbs turned her way.


    Akua had considered the matter as she read and come to a startling conclusion.


    ¡°She is inflating the value of goods within Callow deliberately.¡±


    It did not matter whether the rebellion won or lost. The consequences of the Reluctant Strategist¡¯s larger plot would echo decades in the future if the Black Knight did not act against it before the coins from the Ravel Bank became spread throughout the local economy. Praes was wealthy enough to mitigate the potential damage. However, none of the potential methods of doing so were quick.


    The resulting strife would all but insure another rebellion in the near future. It was the kind of long term spite that could be expected from the Deoraithe. The only surprise was that none among the rebellion had caught wind of it.


    ¡°What of our own plans?¡± her mother smiled.


    The coin from the exchange could be used by her mother to continue sparring with Malicia. Most of the High Seats would come out of the current conflict in Praes weaker, but with a much stronger grasp of the force the Empress could project. Another uprising among the High Seats against Malicia was all but assured with time. Akua would be at the forefront when it occurred and make certain that it would be the one to succeed.


    ¡°They remain unchanged,¡± Akua replied.


    The interrogation continued for a while before at long last her mother was satisfied with what she had discerned.


    ¡°Return to your studies, Akua,¡± her mother dismissed her. ¡°There is much to prepare before we are ready to step onto the stage.¡±


    Indeed, mother.


    Most of the future remains shrouded behind a veil of uncertainty.


    It¡¯s a pity that one day soon I¡¯ll be cutting you out of it.

 Perdition 6.07

    ¡°A siege is just a long-term commitment to knocking on the wrong door.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Empress Maleficent II


    <hr>


    The Imperial Highway was empty at this time of the morning. Not that it would be busy at another hour, since the rebellion had now dragged on for over a year. The barren fields grown wild with disuse on either side of the road were the true cost of our defiance. One of the cheaper costs. The fields we had passed an hour before had been blackened from fire. My hand traced the grip of the dagger on my thigh at the thought.


    I turned my mind eastwards in a bid to distract myself from my simmering fury. Scouts had brought news that the Calamities had succeeded at putting down the uprising within the Empire. The High Seat of Aksum had been replaced seven times in the past four months. The High Seats of Okoro, Nok and Kahtan had been replaced twice. The Seventh Legion had died during the height of the conflict, and the other Legions had been mauled. Rumours claimed that the Calamities were forming groups of smaller villains that agreed to follow their rules now that they had killed something like close to half a hundred of them. I wasn¡¯t sure that I believed it.


    The truth didn¡¯t matter.


    All that mattered was the fact that now that the conflict in Praes had been contained, they had turned their attention back onto Callow. Five of the Legions of Terror were seen by scouts marching west. The Reluctant Strategist had sent me to recall the Faithful Warrior in defence of the city. She didn¡¯t trust that the message wouldn¡¯t be lost if she sent anyone else.


    Mabli had given me many tasks over the course of the year in addition to becoming more involved in my learning. They fell into three categories. The first was diplomacy ¡ª which I was terrible at ¡ª but I enjoyed the most. Mabli would often have me negotiate low stakes agreements between parties.


    The second type of task was unofficial and as far as I knew only Mabli knew about them. They were unsanctioned raids against smaller fortified Legion positions. They were the types of tasks I hated the most, even though I was the best at them. Now people talked. There were rumours about the Nightmare Child. It wasn¡¯t my Name, but I knew who they talked about. I knew what they said about me. The only reason anyone tolerated me was because they had no idea that the Nightmare Child and me were one and the same.


    Things happened when I leaned into the shadows.


    Don¡¯t think about that, Cat.


    Well, I was also good at the third kind of task, but it wasn¡¯t fulfilling. It felt like a waste of my time, and it annoyed me that I was used for it. Even when the messages were being sent to perilous places. I¡¯d complained about the duty. Mabli had told me that if a message was important enough she¡¯d send me to deliver it, then it had to arrive.


    I still didn¡¯t like it.


    There were some improvements to my circumstances. Mabli had told the other heroes that I was one of them. I followed along with the lie, even if I was convinced that I was a villain and that the Reluctant Strategist knew as much.


    It helped that my Name sounded so innocuous. I was the Novice. I hadn¡¯t risked using shadows in the presence of the others ¡ª not that it was difficult to avoid ¡ª the shadows weren¡¯t easy for me to control. They weren¡¯t pleasant to use, either. I grimaced.


    Think about something else, Cat.


    The voice in my head helped ground me.


    It kept me from slipping further.


    The journey from Summerholm to Dormer had taken me a while. The Faithful Warrior was attempting to free the port from Praesi control but hadn¡¯t met much luck. I¡¯d arrived, delivered the message and joined them on the return. Our journey was almost at its end. Summerholm was less than a day¡¯s journey away. I was looking forward to seeing Abigail again after being on the road for so long. She was always jumpy around me in a way that always brought a smile to my face.


    The Faithful Warrior and the force he had put together over the year was only a day¡¯s march behind us. The Silver Lancer, The Vengeful Warrior, The Radiant Archer and I were all riding ahead. In an odd twist of fate, the Gallant Youth had departed to deliver a message to the Reluctant Strategist only a day before I arrived. We were expecting him to already be within Summerholm.


    The road was silent, save for the constant bickering within our band.


    ¡°The only reason the Warlock hasn¡¯t fought me is he¡¯s too afraid to lose,¡± the muffled voice of Merton called out through the fog. ¡°When you¡¯re as good as me, you don¡¯t miss.¡±


    The blurred outline of the Radiant Archer on horseback was only a few feet ahead of me. I couldn¡¯t see his open shirt or his bow, but I¡¯d still be willing to bet that he was playing with either his collar or his bow.


    ¡°Your death won¡¯t free us, shepherd,¡± Hilda replied. ¡°Stop stroking your c-¡± she glanced at me from the horse on my right and cut off, ¡°bragging and think for once.¡±


    The steady canter of her armoured stallion¡¯s hooves reverberated on the paved road from my left.


    ¡°Calm your tits,¡± I stated solemnly. ¡°Merton¡¯s ears are definitely too innocent for that kind of talk.¡±


    The Radiant Archer let out a choked laugh.


    ¡°The soldiers are a bad influence on you,¡± Hilda muttered.


    I glanced her way.


    The Vengeful Warrior was tall and in her early thirties. Scars lined her face. There were so many of them that it looked like she had hair on both sides of her head. Her pale blonde hair rested against the leather armour covering her broad shoulders.


    ¡°Cuthbert¡¯s not even dead yet, and you¡¯re already finding a replacement,¡± Merton mocked.


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Hilda¡¯s voice was caustic.


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t noticed?¡± Merton teased, ¡°First your mother dies, then you avenge her. Then your father dies and you avenge him. Then your best friend. Now you¡¯ve taken on an apprentice-¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong?¡± Hilda forced the words out through gritted teeth.


    ¡°That¡¯s the difference between us,¡± there was a rustle from up ahead, ¡°I don¡¯t need to avenge dead friends because I¡¯m good enough to keep them alive.¡±


    ¡°Say that again.¡± I heard an awkward shuffling from her horse and looked over. The vague outline of her two-handed weapon stood out in her hands.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to avenge dead friends because I¡¯m good enough to keep them alive.¡±


    ¡°Say another word and my axe will carve through your skull.¡±


    ¡°Your words are dishonourable,¡± Oswin berated her, ¡°apologize to your ally, Hilda.¡±


    The Silver Lancer was in his mid-thirties and was the only hero among the rebellion who truly looked the part. He was clad from head to toe in polished steel, but the gallant man under the armour had a regal air that the rest of us all lacked.


    ¡°He mocks the dead,¡± she challenged.


    ¡°And he will answer for that in turn,¡± Oswin replied.


    ¡°He will, will he?¡± she sneered. ¡°You would have already chastised him if I was anyone else.¡±


    ¡°I insist that you apologize to him,¡± his words had a hard edge.


    ¡°Not unless he does first,¡± she spat back. ¡°He¡¯s been insufferable ever since he shot the Warlock¡¯s hell-fire out of the sky near Marchford.¡±


    ¡°I would not gainsay you were you to boast of any victories of your own,¡± Oswin replied. ¡°Prioritizing vengeance over duty harms our cause more than it furthers it.¡±


    ¡°What victories?¡± Merton teased. ¡°It¡¯s not my fault that-¡±


    His voice cut off. His horse halted.


    The rest of us stopped beside him.


    The fog gave way to a scene of carnage. Three dozen bloated corpses were strewn across the middle of the road. They were spread between what appeared to be the ravaged remains of a caravan transporting grain. Most of them looked like peasants. The rest were Legion soldiers. They must have died days ago and nobody had bothered to do anything about them.


    My boots touched the ground before I realized that I¡¯d dismounted. My breath came quick and heavy. I bent down among the wreckage. I ignored the buzzing of flies and scared away a crow from a nearby carcass as I walked over to examine it. Maggots writhed within eyes.


    The stench was overpowering.


    My anger will get the better of me one day, and I¡¯m going to start killing rebels for doing things like this.


    ¡°Traitors selling food to Praes,¡± Hilda spat on the side of the road. ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure the people starving in Laure are happy to know that more Callowens will join them soon.¡± The words slipped out of my mouth before I¡¯d even realized it.


    ¡°Their lives were forfeit the moment they chose to cosy up with the Empire,¡± the Silver Lancer agreed with the Vengeful Warrior.


    My hand tightened around the hilt of my dagger.


    ¡°It must be nice being too important to deliver messages,¡± I drawled.


    ¡°Say what you mean, kid,¡± Hilda grunted. ¡°Don¡¯t dance around it.¡±


    I hear all sorts of things on the road,¡± I continued. ¡°Like how farmers are more scared of the rebellion than of the Legions.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s why they need us to guide them,¡± Merton sniffed. ¡°They would support us if they knew better.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a pity for the sheep that it¡¯s usually the shepherd that kills them,¡± I pointed at the Radiant Archer, then pointed at the corpses.


    His face purpled.


    ¡°At least sheep don¡¯t die on an empty stomach,¡± Merton spat while stroking at his bow.


    The shadows around the edge of my eyes darkened. The umbral threads which were often out of my reach whispered slick, oily words in my ears. They called, begging to be used. Spiders crawled down my spine.


    Don¡¯t think about the shadows.


    I listened to the voice in my head. I forced the darkness away.


    ¡°Your choice to starve the flock is proof of your skill as a shepherd,¡± I took two steps towards him and glared into the blue of his eyes from beneath his chin. ¡°It¡¯s a pity that your ego is good for nothing at all,¡± I smiled. ¡°There would be enough food to last Callow through winter if it could be eaten.¡±


    ¡°The little girl comes running to the real heroes for help the moment the Calamities show their faces,¡± Merton shoved against me. ¡°A novice should know when to listen to her-¡±


    ¡°Catherine, Merton,¡± the Silver Lancer¡¯s voice cut through the tension like a knife. ¡°I implore both of you to put this matter aside and apologize to the other.¡±


    I breathed in, then unclenched my shoulders.


    ¡°Sorry for being honest,¡± I scratched at an itch on my chest while glaring at Merton.


    He didn¡¯t apologize in reply.


    The Silver Lancer appeared satisfied regardless.


    Hilda approached and gave me a measured slap on the shoulder in support. I smiled back, but withdrew from the conversation regardless. It wasn¡¯t long before we mounted up again and continued on our journey. The three of them continued to bicker as the sun rose and the last vestiges of the fog were burned away.


    The dying rays of the late afternoon sun were hot on my back when we saw it in the distance. First there were the banners. A black tower on red. We dismounted, then sneaked closer. Concentric rings of palisade fences were set around the walls of Summerholm. Around them were trenches and spikes. Then, tents organized in rows.


    ¡°Two Legions,¡± Oswin stated. ¡°They pulled two whole Legions out from further in Callow to besiege the city from both sides.¡± He paused, then continued. ¡°I¡¯d bet they came from Marchford.¡±


    ¡°We should launch an assault now,¡± Merton declared and pointed. ¡°A quick strike to destroy those stockpiles and the war will be over within a week.¡±


    Remember yourself, Cat.


    I held back from interjecting. I wanted to agree with Merton. There was only one problem. I couldn¡¯t avoid using shadows for a fight this large. It was better to wait for a larger conflict where I could act within the chaos and still avoid being noticed.


    ¡°Remember your duty,¡± Oswin denied, pulling off his helmet. ¡°You were called upon to counter the Warlock.¡±


    ¡°Merton thinks only of his own glory,¡± Hilda spat, ¡°but I agree with him.¡±


    ¡°The Radiant Archer is the only one among us skilled enough with a bow,¡± the Silver Lancer reminded her.


    ¡°This is our chance to see them all burn,¡± Hilda spat. ¡°A strike here against their camp could-¡±


    ¡°Cuthbert has been captured,¡± Merton gestured towards a section of the encampment which was more heavily guarded. ¡°There are prisoners there. I can Perceive them.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Hilda grabbed at Merton and pulled him close, staring deep into his crisp blue eyes.


    ¡°Of course I am,¡± the arrogant archer¡¯s eyes narrowed, ¡°he¡¯s under watch by a sorcerer.¡±


    ¡°We strike,¡± the muscled woman insisted.


    ¡°It would be wiser to attempt a prisoner exchange,¡± the Silver Lancer ran a hand through his raven hair. ¡°The Legions of Terror may begin to execute prisoners should we make the attempt.¡±


    The Silver Lancer had soft grey eyes, round cheeks and a button nose. He was almost always earnest when speaking to others. It made it even more unfortunate that none of the heroes could tolerate each other. The fact that I was sitting among a group composed of one of the rare exceptions felt like a bad joke on the part of the Gods.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Hilda dropped Merton, then picked up the axe from the ground beside her and took a step towards the Legion camp.


    ¡°You would jeopardize our quest?¡± the black haired knight challenged.


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting another charge die.¡±


    ¡°There is no justice in allowing other prisoners to die so that one may be freed,¡± the Silver Lancer chided.


    ¡°Revenge is the only just I need,¡± she buried the head of the axe in the ground before her and scowled.


    These two aren¡¯t going to stop arguing if someone doesn¡¯t distract them.


    ¡°You argue so much that I¡¯d swear I¡¯m with three villains,¡± I declared. ¡°Oswin will free the Gallant Youth.¡±


    All three of them turned my way.


    ¡°The child thinks she can give me orders?¡± Merton sneered, ¡°why, she has no re-¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°The Gallant Youth is probably injured and needs to be carried out,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Oswin is the most skilled on a horse,¡± I pointed at the looming figure of the knight. ¡°He can get in and out of the camp the fastest. That makes him best for a rescue mission.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Hilda disagreed. ¡°He¡¯s my charge.¡±


    ¡°While dedication to your charge is noble,¡± Oswin replied, ¡°our duty is to-¡±


    ¡°Can your arrows break the wards on the sewer grates?¡± I interrupted and asked the man busy examining his lacquered green quiver.


    ¡°Undoubtedly,¡± he puffed his exposed chest out and preened.


    ¡°I know the way through the sewers and where one of the grates are. You,¡± I pointed at Hilda, ¡°will be the distraction while Merton and I sneak past their camp. You,¡± I pointed at Oswin, ¡°will use the distraction to free the Gallant Youth.¡±


    ¡°I should be the one leading,¡± Merton scowled. ¡°I refuse to follow the words of a-¡±


    ¡°Her words have merit,¡± the Silver Lancer interrupted, ¡°but better to use a sally point than create a breach in the city defences.¡± His eyes fell on me, ¡°you¡¯d also have a better explanation for why you¡¯ve been exploring the sewers.¡±


    I ignored the heat on my cheeks and avoided meeting his gaze.


    ¡°I know where there¡¯s a sally port as well,¡± I evaded.


    ¡°I¡¯d do better than Hilda as a distraction,¡± the Radiant Archer protested.


    ¡°Consider the glory you might earn defending the city from the walls, Merton.¡± Oswin nodded to him. ¡°Fire an arrow into the sky to alert us to your success once you are beneath the aegis of the city walls. We will pull back once the signal has been seen.¡±


    The three of them began to bicker over this amended plan once more, but the shape of the argument had changed. It wasn¡¯t long before all three were in agreement. We pulled back from the Legion encampment and waited until well after dark.


    ¡°May the Gods grant us victory,¡± Oswin clapped both of us on our shoulders before he and the Vengeful Warrior split off and approached the Legion camps.


    Hilda and Oswin mounted up.


    The Vengeful Warrior kicked her mount into a full sprint. Arrows began to fall towards her. It galloped towards the ditches, before she leaped off its back among the stakes and scattered them with her axe. The sound of a Legion horn reverberated through the darkness.


    Then there was a silver flash as Oswin joined the charge. He swung his lance and half a dozen torches flickered out.


    ¡°Lead on,¡± Merton ordered.


    I could hear the sneer in his voice.


    I swallowed back the cutting barb on my tongue.


    Both of us crept closer to one of the gaps between Legion camps. There was a soft twang as the Radiant Archer loosed two arrows, and two guards fell dead on the ground. We rushed forward, then slid into one of the ditches. Stakes smiled on my right like the teeth of a hungry dragon. I could hear every breath I took. The cool air settled on my shoulders. A cloud passed over the moon.


    The shadows deepened.


    Do I risk it? Yes, I can¡¯t afford not to.


    I loathed that they never answered me unless I was so out of my own mind that I was almost a different person. I hated how I needed to fight to keep myself under control. Anger sometimes worked, but it wasn¡¯t reliable when I needed to defend myself. I was almost helpless without the shadows. The dagger on my thigh slid silently out of its sheath. My hands trembled. Blood oozed as I ran its edge across the jagged scar down the length of my left arm. I bit back a cry of pain.


    This is wrong.


    Shut up.


    I shouldn¡¯t do this.


    Shut up.


    I know this is a bad idea.


    Shut up.


    The insistent voice in my head died.


    The ringing of steel and the screams of dying soldiers within the camp grew louder with each step we took towards the fortress city.


    We passed out of one ditch onto a narrow bridge. A gate into the Legion camp yawned on my right. Light from torches spilled across the ground. I spared a glance through the gap between camps towards Summerholm. The tent city outside the gates had been dismantled and turned into a maze of traps. Then we were beyond the bridge and into the darkness of a ditch on the opposing side.


    Shadows widened, danced, then whispered to me as the dizziness I¡¯d suborned myself to stole over me. I licked my lips and reached towards them. Their sickness repulsed me. Their sweetness filled me. It was cloying, rancid, like eating rotten fruit drenched in honey, only a thousand times more addictive.


    Don¡¯t fall for their tricks.


    The little voice in my head called me away from the brink. More blood welled as I bit my lips and reeled back from the call.


    The gap between camps narrowed the closer we drew to the city. My shoulders tensed. It wasn¡¯t long before light from torches near the leftmost camp spilled into the ditch. The sounds of fighting died away.


    The edge of my sight darkened. The world gained an almost surreal quality as-


    <hr>


    The palisade shattered under his mount¡¯s hooves. Bolts howled through the air like the cries of the damned. None found their mark. The sound of Hilda¡¯s fight became more and more frenzied. Oswin examined the prison and was puzzled by what he saw. There was a¡­ listlessness to the prisoners. Another bolt charged towards him, and he deflected it with his sword.


    ¡°People of Callow,¡± Oswin shouted, ¡°Raise your heads and do your duties, for the hour of your freedom is nigh and your nation calls to war.¡±


    A single prisoner turned his way.


    The breath went out of him.


    The heat of righteous rage swelled beneath his armour.


    Zombies.


    They were all corpses that had been brought back to life.


    For what reason were the dead being held prisoner?


    The Calamities deserved death for both this blasphemy and every other that had come before it.


    He would do his duty as a knight and put them all to rest.


    <hr>


    -the shadows pulled near to me. I forced them away and blinked. We¡¯d almost reached the end of the ditches. The light from torches flickered on the walls of Summerholm standing proud in the distance.


    Images of the soldiers standing alert on the walls flashed through my mind. Not just Callowens who had joined the rebellion, but support from other parts of Calernia as well. The watch had sent a contingent of troops from Daoine and mercenaries from the Free Cities had been hired with money from Wolof.


    Procer had refused to send aid. The thought of our western neighbours made me furious. They claimed that the Yan Tei fleet which had landed in Levant was a more pressing concern for them. Their heroes didn¡¯t even bother to show up on their own. Never mind that every city that wasn¡¯t under the control of Praes had fallen into chaos, or that our heroes could barely manage to keep the new villains ¡ª I didn¡¯t count ¡ª contained.


    The trembling of the earth shook me out of my reverie.


    The tremble evolved into thunder.


    Merton¡¯s pace shifted from unhurried to urgent.


    I strained myself to keep up.


    ¡°Why are we even here?¡± somebody complained. ¡°Nobody ever tells us. Just kept in the dark and fed shit.¡±


    The last of the moisture in my mouth dried out.


    ¡°Shut up and get to it,¡± another replied. ¡°You know our orders.¡±


    My eyes darted back and forth.


    The Radiant Archer broke into a steady sprint.


    We passed into the no man¡¯s land between the Legion camps and Summerholm and came face to face with two full patrols.


    Merton pulled back the string on his bow, but it was already too late.


    ¡°Alarm!¡± a sergeant with a hooked nose shouted from the back of a horse while reaching towards a horn.


    We couldn¡¯t afford to slow. There was no use hiding what I could do if both of us died. The sweetness called to me. It sang. It whispered. No, I couldn¡¯t give them control. I needed to maintain possession of my senses while I fought against the enemy.


    Don¡¯t do this, Cat.


    I ignored the voice.


    I reached out towards the shadows and-


    <hr>


    Hilda¡¯s axe arced through the air and tore through the throats of three more legionnaires. There was a dull thud as their heads hit the floor. Their bodies followed soon after. Over two dozen corpses stained the soil in blood.


    She dashed forward and broke the palisade walling off horses near the prisoners. Oswin had ordered her to stay away from the prisoners and create a distraction somewhere else. Oswin could always be trusted to do two things. The first was to do his duty and the second was to keep his word.


    Hilda would have obliged him had he given his word.


    The trouble was that he had not.


    So she fought within sight of the broken walls of the temporary cells. Oswin had carved his way through them with his usual thoroughness.


    Her blade rose and a horse died. There was a flash. Hilda¡¯s axe rose as she pivoted and deflected a bolt. A man holding a crossbow wreathed in a cloak of shadows stood behind her. Her lips puckered. Another puppet under the control of the Black Knight. She¡¯d already killed four of them, and they showed no sign of giving her a reprieve. The man was clever. Always fighting from the shadows. Never giving an honest fight. She could appreciate that part of him, even if she hated everything else.


    She darted forward and swung. A rain of splinters scattered to the wind as her weapon struck the toy. Her senses warned her of another bolt. Hilda leaned forward, then glanced towards the prisoners in the distance.


    She smiled as she saw Cuthbert. It was him. Even if she couldn¡¯t see any of his features properly ¡ª even if he was so far away ¡ª she knew that it was him.


    There was a flicker of silver. Oswin¡¯s sword rose and cut through the Gallant Youth. Her heart stopped. A traitor? Oswin was a traitor? Her eyes stung. They always died. Why did they always die? Her friends, her charges, everyone she came to care about. A heavy red wave washed over Hilda¡¯s eyes.


    Not again.


    Not again.


    She couldn¡¯t save him.


    She could never save them.


    Useless.


    Why were all her Aspects so useless?


    Useless, save for one of them.


    If she couldn¡¯t save Cuthbert, then she would Avenge him.


    <hr>


    -half a dozen men were dead. I was on the back of the sergeant¡¯s horse, staring into his wide, open eyes. I drew my dagger across his throat. He struggled against his bindings. My breath quickened as he fought against the shadows hidden beneath his armour. His efforts were futile. My heartbeat raced, my cheeks were warm.


    Who should I kill next?


    ¡°Catherine!¡± a voice shouted.


    Irritation. Should I kill him? No. I¡¯d decided not to.


    Resist it, Cat.


    What was that? Ah, it was the whining voice of the little girl that I¡¯d locked away inside a cage.


    I ignored it and revelled in how alive I felt.


    A wide smile stretched from one side of my face to the other.


    The Radiant Archer was loosing another arrow. I could tell that he would miss. The shadows slithered beneath the victim¡¯s armour and locked her in place. I heard a distant thud and almost chuckled in glee.


    ¡°Catherine!¡± a voice persisted.


    Annoyance. He was the reason I was hiding. I could do what I wanted if he was dead.


    Remember that this isn¡¯t what you want.


    What? Why wouldn¡¯t I want this?


    The shadows embraced me beneath my armour.


    I padded the underside of my palms with shadows and pushed myself off the horse, hurtling towards my next victim. He let out a terrified shriek. His armour shattered, and his skin parted beneath my blade only a few moments later.


    The beast purred as I pulled my knife clean.


    ¡°Catherine!¡±


    I snarled.


    A hand slapped my face.


    Yes!


    The bars of the cage bent, then broke.


    Something weak pushed against me. The nagging voice that I hated so much. It never went away.


    Another slap.


    No, I pushed against it. The Evil thing that I became whenever I slipped. I hated it. I hated what it did to me. I hated that I could never be rid of it. That it was always there and that I always ended up needing it. One step at a time, I forced the darkness back. It felt like trying to lift a mountain using a teaspoon.


    One last heave.


    The cage slammed shut.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I gasped.


    ¡°There¡¯s no point sneaking any more!¡± Merton shouted. ¡°Run for the walls!¡±


    I followed his advice and didn¡¯t bother to reply. Both of us sprinted away from the Legion camp. The situation was grim. Legion soldiers were hot on our heels, and there were at least two dozen people peppering us with bolts. I reached towards the shadows and felt the beast reach back. I waged a silent war against the monster in my mind.


    Syrup ran through me. My mind became fuzzy. I stumbled, but pushed through.


    Now it¡¯s easy.


    I bit my tongue to avoid swearing at the unfairness of it all.


    The beast was always less controlling after I indulged. The urges went away. Now I could wield the shadows without having them wield me. Not that it improved the situation much. I grasped upon the inky blackness around the bolts and nudged them. Their path shifted.


    Why did heroes get it so easy? Well, all of them except Mabli. I saw the kinds of gifts the heavens gave them. Almost none of them had costs. None of them went mad the way that I did.


    Then we entered the killing fields below the city walls and attacks against us ceased.


    Both of us slowed. My breath was shallow. A sea of lights swimming over an ocean of walls. Stars, innumerable stars. Voices. No, one voice. Caverns beneath the bastion of Summerholm burrowing deep into the darkness. The jaws of monsters rising up to swallow me. Why were there that many walls?


    No, it was only another nightmare, wasn¡¯t it?


    I smiled.


    Nightmares for a Nightmare Child. There was a symmetry there. What kind of Novice was I? I wasn¡¯t a Novice, I was a monster. A hand wrapped itself around my palm, only to slip. Ah, I forgot to heal myself again. I focused on the injury. Focused on my bloody dress.


    Absorb.


    The wound closed.


    The blood faded away.


    The fog within my head dissipated. Many walls resolved into two, caverns became ditches, monsters became stakes. The beast growled within my chest. It hungered once more. It hungered, and I knew that as much as I railed against it, I would feed it once again.


    I swallowed a whimper.


    ¡°Nobody warned me you suffer from battle fury,¡± Merton spat. ¡°To think they wanted me to follow you.¡±


    ¡°That way,¡± I pointed.


    Merton raised his bow and loosed a radiant arrow into the sky, only for the sky to open. Red, then orange, then purple. One colour, then the next, then the next. An angry black. Blistering fire and lightning arcing from nowhere to nowhere else. My mind boggled. Boulders the size of mansions floated in the air above us and crackled with malevolent energy. They were swimming towards us. Not swimming, falling.


    The beast inside me snarled.


    The Warlock.


    The thought was muted. I should have felt angry, upset, something.


    Instead, I felt tired.


    Why here? Why now? We¡¯d almost reached safety.


    The first rock that fell from the sky struck against Merton¡¯s arrow, only to deflect the projectile back towards the Legion camp.


    Then more of the hell-fire to start raining down.


    ¡°Run! Catherine!¡± the Radiant Archer shouted, ¡°I¡¯ll deal with the Warlock.¡±


    I didn¡¯t even consider arguing. Fighting would be stupid, I¡¯d already broken into a sprint.


    A wilting wind scoured its way across the ground outside Summerholm. Dust swirled, whipped around me. I raised my arm and shaded my eyes, then squinted up ahead. Traps lay between me and safety.


    A rock slammed into the ground beside me. Blistering heat sent me scrambling back. I stumbled, then righted myself. A glowing arrow arced into the sky, then another, then another. One after the other, rock met arrow and rock shattered or diverted.


    I reached towards the shadows and they answered eagerly. I couldn¡¯t afford to slow for the traps. There was no subtlety to my working. A black fog spread out across the ground ahead of me and swallowed it all in darkness. I ran along the path I made, even as sweetness coursed through me.


    Ran and made my way to safety.


    The roiling scarlet above me faded away. I didn¡¯t trust it. It was a lie. The safety was a lie.


    I panted as my hand touched against the walls.


    Bang!


    Bang!


    Bang!


    Words were said.


    The sally port opened.


    I was welcomed inside.


    It was only then that I realized that the Radiant Archer hadn¡¯t followed behind me.


    A terse few sentences were exchanged before I dashed through the gatehouse, found a staircase and climbed to the battlements. A wind that was both hot and cold brushed against my face. I blinked. It was an odd blend of both normal air and the fires of the hells.


    I ignored the voices of the soldiers and looked out over the killing fields. A light smattering of hell-fire coated the ground like hail during a storm.


    Where is Merton?


    I looked.


    Was that him? There was a corpse in the distance buried beneath a boulder. I couldn¡¯t see most of it, just the legs. No, it couldn¡¯t be him. There was a radiant arrow piercing the heel. Merton was a braggart, but I didn¡¯t see him shooting himself in the foot.


    I looked again.


    And looked.


    And looked.


    There it was. A hand sticking out from beneath a rock clasping a broken bow.


    My shoulders slumped.


    I swallowed.


    I turned away.


    So much for bringing the other heroes to our support.


    My first day during the hell that was the Second Siege of Summerholm came to an end.

 Perdition 6.08

    ¡°Victory is nothing more than the longest method of defeat.¡±


    ¡ª Isabella the Mad, Proceran general


    <hr>


    My second day in the Second Siege of Summerholm dawned with a visit to the outer walls.


    The crowds usually encamped directly outside the fifty-foot aegis had fled to the safety of the city with the arrival of the Legions. The streets were close to empty despite that. Only soldiers patrolled the road, and yet no matter where I went I could feel the accusing eyes of thousands follow me from behind the shutters.


    The Reluctant Strategist had her troops enforcing an edict preventing war refugees from staying on the streets. She had insisted that the few nobles remaining in Summerholm make room for them in their estates. The complaints against the edict had lasted until the first noble was evicted from the fortress city. It wasn¡¯t only the nobility who had been forced to accommodate the influx of refugees. I was told that there were more than thrice the number of people there should be within the walls.


    An air of desperation pervaded Summerholm.


    I smiled in spite of it.


    A part of me was worried, but that worry shrank like a shadow at dawn from having seen Mabli the evening before. I¡¯d met the silver haired woman in the war room, pacing back and forth before the maps on the table. She appeared not a day younger than sixty, and yet there was a life to her every action. Her gestures were fluid, animated in a way that I hadn¡¯t seen before.


    It was enough to convince me that she had a plan.


    It was enough to convince me that perhaps there was a chance we could still claw victory from the jaws of defeat.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just head back?¡± Abigail twitched and scratched at her delicate nose, examining the road ahead. ¡°The palace is safer.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll need to show me the palace tannery,¡± I mused, ¡°I haven¡¯t seen it.¡±


    We passed the blackened remains of a two-storey building that had been torched by Legion sympathizers within the fortress only two days past. The acrid smell of smoke still clung to every inch of the surroundings. It wasn¡¯t the only sign of the pressure we were all under. It wasn¡¯t the only place to have burned.


    ¡°The same place as your survival instinct,¡± she snapped and glared at me from my right.


    ¡°Ah, missing then,¡± I scratched at the black leather jerkin I wore. The gods damned thing itched something fierce.


    ¡°We could also stop at the nearby tavern,¡± she tried again, ¡°you know there¡¯s a small group our age that meets there.¡±


    I blinked at the suggestion. It was one of her better attempts to distract me from our mission. We¡¯d gone there a few times before when the hours were long, and I¡¯d had nothing else to do.


    ¡°This has nothing to do with the fact that Mabli will only punish me for not showing up,¡± I commented.


    ¡°Nothing at all,¡± she flushed and turned away.


    ¡°Naturally. Come on, Abby,¡± I tugged on her hand, ¡°we¡¯re almost there.¡±


    We passed another watchtower and reached an intersection right before the base of the last watchtower right before the main gate. Abigail stopped fidgeting with the arm pads of her jerkin, let go of my hand, then faded into my shadow.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them see me,¡± she whispered.


    I raised an eyebrow and peered towards the building again. Three oddly familiar guards stood beside a bench with the hands on the polished pommels of their swords beside the watchtower door. It took me a moment to place where I¡¯d seen them before.


    ¡°You¡¯re a bit too tall to hide in my shadow.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s plenty of room to hide here,¡± she shifted from one foot to another. I heard her take another step backwards. I knew without glancing that she was fidgeting with her hair.


    ¡°Let¡¯s visit them,¡± I took one step forward and Abigail¡¯s mouth began to run.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be in so much trouble if they see me again,¡± she howled, ¡°they¡¯ll probably-¡±


    My mouth twitched.


    ¡°-and their punishment duty is your fault not mine, but I got-¡±


    I bit down on my lower lip.


    ¡°-I didn¡¯t mean for them to hear that they had fewer wits than laces if they didn¡¯t see me sneak inside but-¡±


    She¡¯s still going on.


    ¡°-and I spent a week cleaning their boots, do you have any idea how filthy-¡±


    ¡°Abigail,¡± I interrupted.


    ¡°-not even my cousins smell that bad after three weeks without bathing and-¡±


    ¡°Abigail!¡± I exclaimed.


    The tirade petered out.


    ¡°What?¡± Abigail wrung her hands together.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to panic,¡± I reassured her.


    ¡°We¡¯re staying away then?¡± her head perked up and she beamed. ¡°Or how about circling around? We could go through that ally over-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be silly¡± I replied. ¡°The staircase is past the watchtower,¡± I grabbed her hand again and tugged. ¡°Come on.¡±


    ¡°More evidence that we should return to the inner city,¡± she grumbled, but allowed herself to be pulled along.


    ¡°-this rate, soon we¡¯ll be eating rats,¡± a guard with black hair and a curly moustache complained. ¡°There are slim spoils to be found.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you know it, Steve,¡± another replied. ¡°Pay¡¯s gone up, but even the price of bread has tripled. Merchants won¡¯t haggle. Nothing has-¡±


    The man¡¯s voice cut off as he glared towards Abigail. She pressed herself against my side.


    ¡°I suggest the two of you go cause trouble somewhere else,¡± he scowled.


    ¡°Trouble?¡± I blinked, ¡°wouldn¡¯t dream of it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a fat lot of lies,¡± the blonde giant spat. ¡°Why, the last time I saw her she-¡±


    ¡°Ah, Bertrand,¡± Steve said, ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea. That girl¡¯s-¡±


    ¡°Not going to be allowed to cause mischief a second time,¡± Bertrand interrupted.


    ¡°We¡¯ve business somewhere else,¡± I fingered my dagger, ¡°unless you have some other reason to keep us?¡±


    ¡°I think we do,¡± he lumbered towards me and folded his arms. ¡°Can¡¯t think of any reason for two little girls to be snooping around here.¡± he leaned in close and breathed down my neck, ¡°Walls are off limits. I¡¯m sure my captain would-¡±


    ¡°Bertrand,¡± Steve tried a second time, ¡°that¡¯s not a good-¡±


    What is that smell?


    ¡°Catherine,¡± a voice I hadn¡¯t heard in a long time interrupted, ¡°got a problem here?¡±


    ¡°Only this one,¡± I poked the soldier¡¯s chain mail vest and smiled at Sullivan, ¡°the other two aren¡¯t stupid enough to delay my meeting on the walls.¡±


    ¡°So we have someone who thinks she¡¯s funny,¡± the guard snarled. ¡°That won¡¯t save you from justice when-¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± I interrupted, ¡°it does most of the time.¡±


    ¡°Well, not this time,¡± he declared. ¡°This time you¡¯ll get the punishment you deserve. I swear it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the Novice,¡± I declared, ¡°and you¡¯re about to be down two limbs and crying on the ground if you keep holding me up.¡±


    He froze for a moment, before smiling at me.


    ¡°A likely story,¡± his fingers closed around my left shoulder. ¡°But I¡¯m not going to let the-¡±


    Abigail retreated from my shadow. Shadows danced at the edge of my vision. Their chorus whispered to me. Whispered, and promised to make my troubles disappear. It was a constant hunger, a need to satiate them.


    Don¡¯t answer their call.


    I listened to the voice and ignored the syrupy song. For once, it was easy. A fight like this didn¡¯t call for them. I twisted, reached up and slammed my open palm against his arm. There was a crack as it slammed backwards. My leg rose. He doubled over as it crashed into his groin. My other hand rose and slammed into his forehead.


    The blonde giant fell sprawling on the ground. He whimpered. I stepped away and examined the other guards. Both of them avoided meeting my eyes.


    ¡°You two,¡± I pointed towards them, ¡°Clean up this mess. I¡¯ve got other things to do.¡±


    ¡°You could have just gone with and explained the situation to his superior,¡± Abigail muttered.


    They heeled and toed it so fast with Bertrand carried between them that for a moment I wondered if they had been there at all.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°That was almost cruel to watch,¡± Sullivan clapped his hands. ¡°I think I¡¯ll give that man my sympathies.¡±


    Abigail stepped beside me again, although something was off about her. I spared a glance her way. Her eyes kept twitching. Up, then down, then up again. She shook her head, then scowled.


    ¡°The ghost returns,¡± I smiled at him. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen you in so long that I¡¯d forgotten you exist.¡±


    ¡°That happens,¡± I felt a prickle on the back of my neck, ¡°somebody¡¯s gone up in the world.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d recommend doing the same,¡± Abigail and I started towards the walls, ¡°it beats starving.¡±


    Sullivan fell into step beside us. His pace matched my own.


    ¡°Great,¡± Abigail muttered, ¡°now there¡¯s two of them.¡±


    ¡°There are dozens of us,¡± Sullivan crowed before examining Abigail, ¡°I don¡¯t remember you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m nobody important,¡± Abigail whimpered.


    I swear, sometimes she¡¯s as nervous as a page at a council meeting.


    ¡°People here are so jumpy nowadays,¡± I drawled.


    There was a rattle as I reached up, grabbed the rusted iron handle and opened the heavy set oak door into the gatehouse.


    ¡°The Black Knight offered to leave the citizens of Summerholm be provided they cast out the rebels,¡± Sullivan replied.


    Considering the sentiment towards the rebellion, that just might be tempting.


    ¡°Of course he did,¡± my stomach churned as we passed a pair of off duty guards drinking at a table and ascended the narrow fight of stairs at the opposite end of the room. ¡°I don¡¯t think you were ordered to follow us around.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± he answered cheerfully. ¡°Just finished my inspection of the sewer defences.¡±


    ¡°Explains the smell,¡± Abigail whispered to herself.


    ¡°They¡¯re as shit as usual?¡± I confirmed.


    ¡°They¡¯re as clean as an orc¡¯s cook pot,¡± he fell away from our side as we reached the second floor. ¡°I¡¯m reporting, then washing up.¡±


    I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s clean or filthy.


    ¡°What has you so jumpy?¡± I asked my friend.


    ¡°There¡¯s something wrong about him,¡± Abigail shuddered as he left. ¡°He¡¯s the type of person you ask for help with hiding a body.¡±


    ¡°Somebody you can trust?¡± I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Not that kind of person,¡± she denied.


    We continued up the stairs in silence. It wasn¡¯t long before the frigid teeth of the early morning wind was nipping at our heels. Soldiers spared us little more than a glance before continuing their patrol of the walls. I kept my eyes pinned to the parapet. It was better than looking at the drop.


    The Reluctant Strategist stood with a telescope pressed to one eye atop the battlements, facing towards the west. Her exposed arms rested against the crenellations. They looked more like parchment than flesh and bone. Beside her stood two figures. The first was a hooded and silent man that I recognized but didn¡¯t personally know. The man was shrouded in a brown cloak. He was one of the Watch sent as support by Duchess Kegan. The second was a bald man clad in a polished mail that I knew well and avoided at every chance that I got. Edric, the Learned Tactician.


    ¡°Catherine,¡± she turned as we approached, ¡°Abigail. Good.¡±


    ¡°What are we here for?¡± I inquired.


    ¡°This is Brennan,¡± she introduced the hooded man, ¡°he¡¯s the leader of the Watch contingent.¡±


    The silent figure turned my way. He said something in the Old Tongue, then realized I didn¡¯t understand what he said.


    ¡°I was told that you were here to learn,¡± his bloodless lips frowned. ¡°There isn¡¯t much to you.¡±


    ¡°For people who spend so long on a wall,¡± I met his gaze, ¡°it doesn¡¯t surprise me that you look down on everyone else.¡±


    I could almost feel his sapphire eyes carve me up one slice at a time.


    ¡°You have fire, at least.¡± His voice sounded like the beating of a drum. ¡°Pray that it is enough to see you through the days to come.¡±


    ¡°Enough pleasantries. Abigail and Catherine,¡± Mabli gestured towards the wall, ¡°both of you tell me what you think.¡±


    I stood on my toes and leaned over the crenellations. My fingers tried to dig holes into the wall as I stared out over the killing fields. It took me a few moments to realize what I was looking at. What must have been a hundred ogres formed up in four loose lines with some space between each of them. The ogres were close enough to the walls that we could easily see them, but still out of bow range. There were boulders piled to either side of the ogres. A man in plain steel armour sat on a horse in the middle of their ranks.


    It took me a moment to realize what I was seeing.


    The Dread Empire of Praes was taunting us.


    ¡°So,¡± I said, ¡°the Black Knight. There and waiting for us. I take it there¡¯s a reason you haven¡¯t given the order?¡±


    ¡°Where are all the soldiers?¡± Abigail rubbed her hands together as she asked from my right.


    ¡°Soldiers?¡± my eyes traced the path pointed out by her finger.


    The Legion camps in the distance were empty.


    ¡°They marched north in the early hours of the morning,¡± Mabli explained. ¡°The five Legions encamped on the opposite side of the city remain there.¡±


    I considered what I was looking at. I¡¯d been learning strategy from Mabli and I could tell that she was offering this as a challenge to the both of us. Retreating made no sense. Not unless the Black Knight knew something that we didn¡¯t. The Faithful Warrior¡¯s force was due to arrive later today, and now there was almost a clear path between them and the city walls. Perhaps the Black Knight was planning to allow them all in and then starve us out? Why did he leave the ogres, though? That made no sense. Not unless¡­


    ¡°It looks too good to be true,¡± Abigail muttered. ¡°It¡¯s a trap.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the Black Knight,¡± I guessed.


    Or is it? I¡¯m not sure.


    ¡°The Faithful Warrior will see the ogres and attack when he arrives,¡± Abigail continued, ¡°Then the Legions will attack them from behind.¡±


    I didn¡¯t think that was it. There was something still missing. This was giving the Faithful Warrior the opportunity to take apart what¡¯s left of the Legion camp. That, or to use them for himself against the Legions.


    ¡°The camp is trapped with Goblin Fire,¡± Mabli explained her thoughts. ¡°The ogres are there for two reasons. The first is to lower the morale of everyone on the walls. The second is to prevent us from inspecting it ourselves. They¡¯ll pull away when they sight the Faithful Warrior¡¯s forces.¡±


    Standing at fifteen feet tall, they¡¯d see any reinforcements heading our way long before those forces seen the ogres in turn. The Faithful Warrior would arrive and see the opportunity to dismantle the deserted camp. An opportunity that he wouldn¡¯t turn away from. His troops would enter the camp then start tearing it apart, and at some point the trap would be triggered.


    ¡°I¡¯d be sending archers out right now if I was the one in charge,¡± I drawled.


    ¡°The ogres threw boulders back at them when it was tried,¡± Mabli sounded amused.


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you sent out a harrying force?¡±


    ¡°That is what we are here to discuss,¡± Mabli cast a stern look in my direction. ¡°The Warlock is waiting for a large enough target to rain hell-fire down on.¡±


    Over the past year, Mabli had made me study the actions of the Calamities. They only ever raised the stakes after their opponents had done so first. I didn¡¯t understand why, but for now we could count on Summerholm remaining uncooked. They would resort to conventional warfare first and foremost. The only question that remained was why we had been summoned here. Most of what we were looking at could be explained without calling us to the walls. I didn¡¯t need to actually see the ogres unless I was expected to¡­


    ¡°Are trying to send me to an early grave?¡± I snorted. ¡°There¡¯s no way I can fight that many ogres alone.¡±


    ¡°The only reason I invited you here is to continue your lessons,¡± she denied. ¡°I¡¯m sending the Learned Tactician.¡±


    I blinked in surprise.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want me to help with this?¡± I asked, ¡°Then why did you invite me here?¡±


    ¡°Because I needed to review this front,¡± she grunted. ¡°There is so much that demands my attention now that I have to do more than one task at a time.¡±


    I closed my mouth and felt a strange knot in my stomach. What was it?


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be smarter to send a messenger out on horseback, ma''am?¡± Abigail asked.


    It took a moment for me to identify the sensation. Disappointment. I¡¯d really thought I¡¯d be sent out on this mission, even though it was a bad idea.


    ¡°Clever girl,¡± the aged commander praised. ¡°We tried, all eight of them died to sorcery.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m really not fighting?¡± I asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re staying out of this,¡± Mabli confirmed.


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an order,¡± she said it in the same tone of voice she used when executing soldiers.


    ¡°What if that really is the Black Knight?¡± I bristled and glared at her.


    ¡°Yes, what?¡± she gazed at me meaningfully. ¡°What are you going to do?¡±


    I wanted to say that I could fight him. That the Learned Tactician wasn¡¯t able to manipulate the shadows like I could. That I was our best bet at fighting him. I knew that she knew what I could do and yet¡­ I still couldn¡¯t say as much.


    ¡°Give it a rest, kid,¡± Edric commiserated. ¡°We do what must be done, not what we want.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say when you¡¯re not being tossed aside.¡± I glowered.


    ¡°Mark my words,¡± he reassured me, ¡°there will be opportunities aplenty for you to do your duty before this matter is done.¡±


    I turned my back towards the ogres and waited while the others continued to talk.


    ¡°The Watch sent sixty of their number to our aid,¡± Mabli paused. ¡°They will be under Edric¡¯s command and benefit from his wisdom.¡±


    ¡°What if the unexpected happens?¡± I inquired.


    ¡°A relieving force led by the Loyal Aegis will be sent to their defence,¡± she gave me a consoling smile.


    At least it meant that I wasn¡¯t the only one who would be sitting the fight out. The Stalwart Defender and Loyal Aegis wouldn¡¯t be participating unless something went wrong. They were both better at holding defensive positions than at launching offensive assaults. Their talents would be more useful if the Ogres could be baited into attacking somewhere else. The Legion soldiers were disciplined and unlikely to fall for such a ruse, but it was being considered for contingencies.


    I listened with one ear open as they continued to plan and occasionally threw in a word. It was an hour later before Abigail and I were dismissed. My stomach churned. I knew that I should remain uninvolved. That Mabli wanted me to remain uninvolved. But¡­ she¡¯d told me not to do something and meant the opposite before, right?


    Can I keep my secret hidden in a fight between a hundred ogres and sixty members of the Watch?


    This was the closest Mabli had come to outright giving me an order. Well, she had given me an order. It was just the first time that I was sure she actually meant it. Was I really considering going against it? Involving myself in the fight was risky. The ogres were clad from head to toe in polished steel. A lot went unnoticed in the heat of the battle but against enemies like this¡­ I didn¡¯t like the odds.


    That¡¯s right, make the smart choice.


    The trouble was that this was a chance for me to do something important. What if it really was the Black Knight and something went wrong? Sixty members of the Watch was a small force. So small that even the smallest of mistakes could send it spiralling out of control. There were less watch members than ogres. I didn¡¯t know what the Watch could do. I also wasn¡¯t willing to bet the safety of Callow on their competence, even if it looked like they felt comfortable with the odds.


    Mabli has a plan.


    The plan could go wrong.


    It will go wrong if you interfere with it.


    I could save it, too.


    There was a chance if I relied on anger instead of blood loss to fuel the shadows, then I could remain in control. It was less reliable, but I couldn¡¯t risk anything else. What could I do? Perhaps I could send shadows along the ground? Nobody would be looking down during the heat of combat. Then the shadows could rise up and bind them from beneath their armour.


    No, don¡¯t make this mistake.


    I didn¡¯t like ignoring the voice in my head.


    The success of the mission mattered too much for me to listen to it.


    I could do this. I just needed to remain unnoticed. So long as nothing went wrong, I didn¡¯t need to step in at all. And if something did go wrong, then I could stick to restraining enemies. I didn¡¯t need to attack them directly to contribute.

 Perdition 6.09

    ¡°History is written by the survivors, but stories are whispered by the dead.¡±


    ¡ª Lycaonese saying.


    <hr>


    Abigail and I stood just within one of the sally ports leading towards Callow. I¡¯d incapacitated the guard. The Watch stood just beyond the shadow of the walls. I was waiting for them to leave and build up a lead before I followed behind. Abigail could seal the way behind me once I¡¯d taken up pursuit.


    ¡°Our enemies to the east call that light shining down upon us a tyrant,¡± Edric marched back and forth in front of the Watch. ¡°Let us give them cause to remember.¡±


    There was a roar of approval from the small force behind him.


    ¡°Raise your steel for duty,¡± there was a pause then, a silence as sixty men listened that was magnified by the hissing of the breeze, ¡°for now is the hour of the sun.¡±


    Sixty swords whispered from their sheaths in perfect unison ¡ª an echo that lingered ¡ª filling the air like an unspoken vow. It was as if some unseen force swept over the Watch. Their movements grew fluid, light, each soldier synchronizing perfectly with the next. They moved as if bound by an invisible chain, like fish caught in a net.


    ¡°Life isn¡¯t a race to an unmarked grave,¡± Abigail breathed in and grabbed at my arm. ¡°Mabli told you-¡±


    ¡°Orders?¡± I interrupted. ¡°Those are for other people.¡±


    The sword in my hand felt awkward. I had some experience with the weapon, but I was more familiar with a knife. A knife wouldn¡¯t avail me much against the might of an ogre. I wasn¡¯t expecting to get into close combat with one, but I¡¯d rather be prepared.


    ¡°Are you even listening?¡± she let go and paced back and forth behind me.


    ¡°If Mabli says not to do something,¡± I evaded, ¡°then it¡¯s an invitation.¡±


    ¡°Today she meant it,¡± Abigail tugged at her hair. ¡°Must you always be this reckless?¡±


    You should listen to her.


    My nails bit into my palms as I clenched my fists, as if crushing the voice in my head in my grip.


    ¡°No need for you to worry.¡± I walked out of the fortress walls. ¡°It¡¯s only my neck that¡¯s on the line.¡±


    Abigail squawked in protest, but I ignored her and ran. I shielded my eyes against the late afternoon sun and gazed ahead at the fading forms of sixty Watch soldiers. They were spread out rather than clustered. Soon, they passed the killing fields, and the ogres started hurling rocks.


    Crash!


    The first boulder blasted into the ground. Then the next, and the next. Dust scattered into the air, then cleared away.


    My hand slackened around the blade.


    The Watch moved as if they shared a single mind. Rocks sailed past them, each dodge precise, each arrow finding its mark. There were no cheers among the ranks when the first ogre fell, only a deadly silence. Then, the gargantuan line of death began to retreat towards the tents. The last thunder of the rocks crashed.


    One of them hurtled towards me.


    I dashed.


    I ducked,


    I yelped as debris caught my side.


    Another stone slammed into the ground beside me, and I went down. Dust clawed its way down my throat, grit stinging my eyes like ash from a fire as I spat it out.


    Couldn¡¯t you at least keep your mad ambitions chained to after nightfall?


    I brushed aside the voice in my head and focused on the furnace smouldering away inside me. It was time. I remembered the crucifixions in Laure, the starving on the streets. These soldiers were the reason my home was broken, my people made into nothing more than an echo of what came before.


    Tenebrous limbs writhed at the edge of my vision, curling and beckoning like tendrils of smoke. When I reached, a sudden clarity burned through me, every heartbeat repeating rhythmically like the grinding of grain in a mill. Warmth flooded through my cheeks, a tempting, almost sickly sweetness sinking into my skin. A sickly-sweet floral scent clawed at my senses. It reminded me of the ghost of roses left to wilt on graves.


    I smiled.


    Alive.


    The heady, dangerous thrill that surged through me was what it felt like to be alive.


    Much like poison masked with honey.


    Fight it.


    I clenched my teeth and pushed back against the sensation. Control. I wasn¡¯t prepared to give up control. I breathed in, then out, then in again. My fingers tightened around the handle of the blade. The gloom fought back. They didn¡¯t like it when I was the one with the reins. They tried to slip between my ghostly fingers. I clung to them like a starving beggar to their last meal. At last, they gave in to my demands.


    Another boulder flew towards me. I nudged the murk at the base of it. Its course changed. A ditch lay just ahead and to my left that extended towards the Legion encampment. I crouched low and ducked into it. Shadows washed over me. I slowed. It was better to be more cautious now. The battle was close. I was only here to provide limited support.


    Hammers were raised over mountainous shoulders as the rocky hail ceased, and the ground shook with the ogres¡¯ charge towards the tents.


    The Watch were now near to their opponents. Bows were slung over their shoulders, and swords hissed like snakes sliding over stone. They ran far faster than normal soldiers. They ran faster than the ogres retreated. The Watch nearly ran as fast as me when I gave it my all. I clenched my fists.


    The leading member of the Watch raised his palm and shouted something ¡ª I couldn¡¯t make it out ¡ª and they all started to sprint. I tried to match my pace to their own while remaining silent.


    My effort was futile.


    The ogres stopped just short of the camp, facing the approaching force. It wasn¡¯t long before the distance on the hard, packed dirt between the Watch and the ogres had disappeared. The first of the Watch reached an ogre, and a mace came down with a mighty crash against the ground. The man darted to one side. A fist was raised, and a steel stake slammed into the ogre¡¯s leg. Using it as support, he threw himself further up the ogre and a bit into a position further up with his other stake.


    The ogre didn¡¯t even let out a grunt.


    The gap between me and the fight had halved.


    I jostled against the shadows. They slithered along the ground towards the conflict. Their sibilant whispers sent a faint tremor down the back of my neck. I brushed them aside. I couldn¡¯t afford to give in.


    The ogre I was watching took a step back, released the mace with one hand, and reached towards its veiled opponent. A flick of the wrist got the first peg out of the leg below, and the cloaked figure hoisted himself up once again. The hand smashed against a now empty leg.


    Twenty feet. Don¡¯t get any closer. This is mad enough already!


    My feet twitched. The sounds of conflict had shifted. No longer did it blend together into a single discordant noise. I could hear the striking of metal on metal and the sinking of metal into flesh and bone. Another ogre swung its hammer, and the woman jumped onto it, using the momentum to launch herself at the next assailant.


    Half a dozen other members of the Watch had each engaged in battle with an ogre of their own. They would push pin the beasts from either side and then force them step by step into the space of another ogre. Soon, their movements became so restricted that many of them were unable to wield their weapons at all.


    The first of my shadows coiled around an ogre¡¯s armoured legs and began to root it in place. I felt something then. Almost as if someone had trailed a feather over an invisible layer of skin. A layer of skin that I didn¡¯t even know that I had. What was it?


    There was too much to follow. Another one of the gargantuan mountains of steel launched itself towards the Learned Tactician. He ducked behind his shield, took a single step right, then charged. The ogre swung its hammer. Edric took a step back, swung his arm back and threw. His shield hurtled through the air and smashed the beast on the face. A hammer swung towards him from his left. He darted to the side.


    Five, six, seven ogres all rooted to the ground. I crawled closer. Light scalded my skin as my head peered out from the ditch. I felt eyes settle upon me.


    Thump!


    Thump!


    Thump!


    I looked up as a new patch of darkness fell over me. A hammer head larger than the Radiant Archer¡¯s ego swung towards me. It moved at a speed that would leave me as nothing more than a smear on the ground.


    Smash!


    My sword clattered to the ground as I threw myself out of the way.


    Dirt sprayed from the impact.


    Scrape.


    The ogre dragged the hammer towards me. I tried to clasp at the shadows around the weapon. I tried to push against it. My fingers tightened as they slipped from my grasp.


    I threw myself backwards.


    This is going about as well as that time you tried to sneak into a Legion camp by climbing on the rooftops.


    Could the voice shut up? An armoured leg came down like a hammer and pounded the breath out of me. I was sent me flying into the air. I blinked as I arced. Then I started to fall. I rolled as I struck the ground. I staggered to my feet and coughed.


    Where was I?


    I took another bleary look around. A shape darkened the edge of my vision. I cursed and ducked. The hammer passed over my head. I reached for my traitorous weapon of choice. For once, they obeyed. I slammed at the murky outline around the weapon¡¯s head. The ogre tried to correct for the added force, failed, then toppled to the ground.


    The glint of metal a few feet away hinted at my sword. I limped towards it and grabbed the handle, then turned to face my foe. The ogre had risen to its knees. I seized the reins of my slippery subordinates. They wormed and squirmed, but answered nonetheless. I threw them at the mountain of metal and flesh that had set itself against me.


    My nails dug deeper. Blood trickled from my palms.


    It took three tries before tendrils coiled around the ogre once again. They fought me every step of the way, slipping through my grip like a snake. The ogre grunted and tried to move. Its efforts availed it nothing. I risked a glance around.


    Everyone was too engaged with their own conflicts.


    Nobody¡¯s attention was on me.


    ¡°Could you die any faster?¡± Tough crowd. My enemy didn¡¯t even deign to reply. ¡°You¡¯re more stubborn than a tavern bouncer.¡±


    I dashed forward and swung. There was an almighty clang as a heavy plated arm intercepted by blow. I pulled back as the other arm reached towards me, then darted forward again and struck. This time I scored a hit through a gap between the helm and the rest of the plate. The ogre squealed like a stuck pig as I carved a line through its throat. It tried to raise its knee again. It didn¡¯t amount to much. A feeble arm was lifted and swung towards me. I pulled away, then returned for a second cut. Steel dug deeper into its neck.


    The ogre let out a gurgle as the last of the strength left its limbs.


    I glanced around the battlefield once more.


    Over two dozen ogres were dead and only eight of the Watch. The Learned Tactician had finished dispatching an Ogre and was turning towards another. It didn¡¯t seem like my help was needed. I swallowed, then spat.


    I rolled my shoulders and considered where to help next. That was when I felt it again. A reverberation in the gloom. It was like someone or something was beckoning to me from deeper within the broken camp.


    Ignore it and keep your head down.


    I knew that I should leave it alone. Nothing good could come from sticking my head into this orphanage. Besides, the Reluctant Strategist thought the camp was trapped. Entering it was a bad idea.


    Good.


    I felt another pulse, stronger this time. There was a familiar resonance to it. It reminded me of what it was like to feel the waves splashing against my legs at the shores of the Silver Lake when somebody threw in a stone, only through shadows instead of water. It was the first time I¡¯d ever felt something like it before. Before I even knew it, I¡¯d departed the safety of the ditch and moved between the stakes on my left.


    You just considered why this is a bad idea.


    What if it was the Black Knight or some other villain? Perhaps the Watch didn¡¯t need my help with the ogres, but that didn¡¯t mean I could help somewhere else. The villain could ambush the Watch at the wrong moment if I didn¡¯t stop them.


    I scrambled between the last of the stakes, flexed on my ephemeral limbs, then pushed at the palisade. There was a moment of resistance before it shattered beneath my palm. The dull throbbing in my side flared for a moment and fed into the murmuring in my head. I blinked, nudging them away. I examined the skeleton of a siege encampment as I scraped through the hole in the wall. Forlorn tents, dusty footprints, and not a soul in sight. The place had been abandoned in a hurry.


    There, nothing to see. Now get out of there before you set off that Goblin Fire.


    Maybe there wasn¡¯t any Goblin Fire? It had only been a guess. Mabli wasn¡¯t always right about everything. I swallowed down on the gnawing in my stomach and ghosted out of the shade into the camp itself. The sounds of the battle behind me faded away the further in that I explored. I passed the broken remains of what once was the prison and turned towards the west. There was another, larger series of holes in the defences.


    I turned back to the broken prison. The distant scraping of metal against metal gained intensity once again. Carrion eaters ate from the swollen bodies of corpses within the cells. The Legions hadn¡¯t even bothered to remove them before leaving. One stocky, headless corpse was set apart from the rest. I knelt down the decapitated remains of the Gallant Youth and stared at the blonde head beside it.


    I felt a presence behind me.


    There wasn¡¯t even a whisper of warning. I rolled to my right. The head of an axe buried itself in the ground beside me. I stumbled to my feet. The ground protested as the axe was dragged loose. I brought my blade up as I turned towards whatever it was. There was a heavy impact as it struck against steel. I staggered back. My arm tingled from the impact. I glanced towards my assailant.


    I smothered the unnatural prickle of dread that bloomed within my heart.


    Dented armour clung to a broken frame. Flecks of something floated from cracks in the metal. My eyes rose further and met the eyes of a scarred face that I already knew well. Maggots writhed beneath my skin and my grip tightened around my sword. It shouldn¡¯t have surprised me. Somehow it still did. There was nothing the Praesi weren¡¯t willing to do. This wasn¡¯t even that Evil for them.


    A part of me wondered which necromancer had desecrated this corpse.


    It was the Vengeful Warrior.


    There was an unsettling stillness to the zombie. There were rocks that were more animated.


    ¡°My mother died first,¡± the pallid figure drew back the two-handed axe in one fluid motion and swung again, ¡°because her life was cheaper than the price of a dress.¡±


    I advanced and deflected the blade. My arm trembled. My foe took a step backward and swung a fist at my face.


    ¡°Vengeful Warrior,¡± I ducked and swung upwards. ¡°You talk an awful lot for somebody who¡¯s already dead.¡±


    My enemy¡¯s fingers opened and seized the steel between its gauntleted fingers. It tugged. I staggered forward. The shadows whispered promises in my ears. I pulled at them. They slipped free from my grasp. I released the sword and leaped backwards as another hand reached towards me.


    ¡°My father died next,¡± the corpse reversed its grip on the sword and dropped the axe on the ground, ¡°in a back alley at the hands of common thugs.¡±


    The blade thrust towards me. I dodged. I was too slow. A hole gouged itself through the leather on my arm. I bit back a scream. The blade tore out of the wound. I leaped past the figure''s guard and hammered against the shadows. They whispered to me. They argued with me. I drowned the whispers with my anger, then slammed a fist against the elbow. There was a crunch as the metal warped under my onslaught.


    Don¡¯t listen to their lies.


    ¡°And next comes the friend. Tell me a story that I don¡¯t know, once and future corpse,¡± I smiled as I grabbed the falling sword. ¡°My name is-¡±


    I reversed the blade once more and scoured it across the breastplate. The metal shrieked. I danced backwards as an undamaged arm swung towards me and sucked at the syrupy sweetness once again. I shook my head. No, not sweetness. I needed to fight against their call.


    ¡°Catherine Foundling,¡± I growled as my enemy stole the satisfaction of introducing myself from me, ¡°of the-¡±


    Hissing spectral snakes pinned the woman¡¯s body in place. Step forward, arm up, arm down. Step away, duck the incoming fist, swing again. Pivot. Dash around. The corners of my eyes darkened. Life flowed through me as one leg then another were severed from the corpse. The body fell. I cut across and parted the head from the throat.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I exhaled and smiled.


    That was when I was thrown against the broken remains of the prison¡¯s palisade wall.


    What happened?


    The thought was distant. I blinked and stared at the broken remains of the corpse. Splinters had gouged themselves into my sides. My ears rang. I clawed my way to my feet and pushed past the spots in my vision. Crimson flowed down my chest. Flowed, then dripped onto the ground.


    Look out!


    My feet moved on their own as I did my best to heed the advice.


    There was a streak of movement in the gloom behind me.


    I threw myself forward as a clay ball sailed over my head and thudded against the soil. Dirt scythed into my side as the sharper detonated. I rolled once more. Who was he? I didn¡¯t think he was just another necromancer. I didn¡¯t have anything to support the feeling in my gut. The Black Knight was skilled at fighting. So skilled at it that even though I doubted this corpse had the same capacity to fight, there was still much for me to Absorb.


    I¡¯d been learning during the fight.


    Nothing good can come from staying.


    ¡°You¡¯re a monster,¡± I snarled, ¡°you¡¯re the Black Knight.¡±


    The Silver Lancer stood motionless, maybe a hundred paces away. He inclined his head from outside the prison as I looked up and met his soft grey eyes. Eyes that were lifeless. The raven haired corpse towered in the distance. It was still clad in a once polished metal plate that was now shredded by axe cuts, and held a sword at the ready. Half a dozen clay balls were slung over its shoulder.


    ¡°Creation is about stories,¡± the empty voice intoned, ¡°patterns that repeat themselves.¡±


    This isn¡¯t a fight we can win.


    I ignored the voice. This was my chance. A chance to kill the man who brought Callow to its knees. This wasn¡¯t him, but he had to be somewhere nearby. I was sure of it. Could I sense him? I drank deeper from the well. The last echoes of the fight in the distance died. Without turning around, the zombie took a measured step towards another walled off part of the Legion camp behind him. I followed behind.


    ¡°This is where your story ends,¡± my bloody boots ate the ground, leaving a trail of prints in their wake. ¡°Your pattern will never re-¡±


    The ghoul clasped a clay ball with a mailed fist and lobbed it underhand it my way. Ink slithered down my arm. I grabbed it out of the air and tossed it back in turn. I circled to the side. Three more calculated steps backwards, and he passed through an open gate and sheltered behind the fortification. There was a thunderous crack.


    ¡°You will try.¡± He declared from behind the wall. ¡°You¡¯re making an admirable effort at digging an early grave,¡± his voice grew more distant.


    I didn¡¯t know what the Black Knight was talking about. I also didn¡¯t care. He was the man who had ruined my home. Everything would be better off once he was dead. Lines of wooden stakes fell behind me as I strode through the gate into the enclosure. I glanced around. Another explosive appeared in the corner of my eye. An umbral tiger leaped out of the shadow of a tent and swatted it aside with its claws. There was a muffled bang in the distance.


    ¡°So what?¡± The distance between us closed. ¡°Your end will be the beg-¡±


    I grimaced as another explosive almost smashed against my face. A screen of darkness intercepted the sphere. The impact sent me sprawling to the ground. I brushed the hair out of my eyes and staggered to my feet. There was a glint of steel. My blade rose to meet his own. My vision blurred. Three gleaming points struck against one, and both sides held firm. A rush of heat flowed through me. It was so easy when I just let myself go. I grinned. A black fog billowed out from me and flowed along the ground.


    You need to keep your secret from the-


    I slammed the cage shut around the irritating gnat in my head.


    ¡°You¡¯re making a lot of stupid decisions,¡± murky wisps tightened themselves around the corpse¡¯s limbs, ¡°for somebody who spent so long avoiding orphanages.¡±


    I brought my blade up and carved through one restrained limb. A feverish heat rushed through me. The flesh puppet gave me a bloodless smile and tore itself backwards. The squelch that followed was music to my ears. I ignored the tingling in my fingers or the ringing in my ears. I felt alive. The fragile spheres rushed to the dirt.


    ¡°Callow doesn¡¯t want,¡± the tenebrous pool at my feet cushioned the balls, ¡°the dirt you feed us.¡±


    My sword swung again and traced a bloodless sickle across the zombie¡¯s throat. Three remaining arms swung towards me. I darted backwards, leaving a trail of scarlet prints as I went. A wall of shadows interposed itself between me and my assailants.


    ¡°Do you think this is what I want?¡± the corpses cocked their heads and rasped at me. ¡°The waste disgusts me.¡±


    I¡¯d had enough. I squeezed on one of the explosives. There was a soft crack. The darkness roiled as the contents of the balls detonated. It roiled, then dispersed in the aftermath. I panted as I surveyed the aftermath.


    Was that it?


    Scarlet poured from the wound down my arm. The edges of my vision frayed. I knew what it meant. A nightmare. Another waking nightmare was soon to come. I needed enough blood to fuel my Aspect. I required blood to resist the call of the darkness. My head swooned as I leaned down to inspect the corpse.


    The corpses were bloodless.


    No, no, this wasn¡¯t enough. I reached for my Aspect. It didn¡¯t answer. My heart leaped into my throat. I bit down on my tongue and struck out against the phantoms in the mist. They trailed their silky claws down my spine and purred into my ears. My fingers dug grooves into my palms. I lashed out with my sword. It availed me nothing. It never did.


    <hr>


    Edric twisted his blade loose from the pallid remains of the ghoul. He focused on Coordinate. He was unsurprised when it didn¡¯t respond. The phantom formation within his mind had long since abandoned its post. He turned around and surveyed the battlefield. Just over two dozen members of the Watch remained among the living. The fight was over.


    His lips pressed together.


    He ran his fingers along the length of his blade, then sheathed it in a single motion. He¡¯d caught more than one glimpse of the Novice during the fight. What he¡¯d seen placed a heavier burden upon him than the weight of his armour. Shadows obeyed her orders. It was enough to convince him that she was the one responsible for the culling of half a dozen merchant caravans on the outskirts of Legion camps.


    Edric marched over to where he¡¯d last seen her and examined the ground for further insight. Loose dirt, a dead ogre, signs of a scuffle. His eyes followed the faintest of trails leading towards a break in the walls of the leftmost camp. It was best for them to pursue the villain. There was no telling what schemes she was up to.


    ¡°Injuries?¡± he inquired.


    ¡°Minor,¡± Brennan spat, ¡°a hit was a death sentence.¡±


    Then they could proceed with his adjustments to the plan.


    ¡°Form up,¡± he gave Brennan a single measured nod, ¡°we¡¯re investigating the encampment.¡±


    He had been ordered to remain outside the encampment, barring extreme circumstances. The Learned Tactician deemed the presence of a villain significant enough to proceed.


    ¡°The girl?¡± the man leaned in close and rested a hand on his shoulder.


    Edric relaxed. The voice of his comrade and occasional lover from time spent in Daoine almost brought a smile to his face. He buried the emotion. There would be time for gentler moments after the conflict ended. Their dedication to their mission came first.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Edric stepped past the stakes, ¡°touch nothing and remain alert. There is no telling what traps are here.¡±


    Twenty-five men stepped through her breach into the enclosure. Her trail disappeared then. Edric had the men spread out. It wasn¡¯t long before one of them discovered the first corpse. Bloody prints on the sand were found soon after.


    <hr>


    The shadows rippled, contorting around me.


    The palisade climbed to the sky. Up, up and up again, then shifted into menacing brick walls. Empty tents became fortified turrets. Trenches became caverns. Stakes became the ravenous teeth of hungry beasts. A tyrant glared down upon me from above, waving its golden sceptre. I snarled back in return. The distant tread of boots on soil morphed into the clanging of chains. My head floated in the clouds.


    A little girl beat her arms against the bars of her cage.


    I smiled.


    All was as it should be.


    No, I needed to fight against this madness.


    I raised my hand to my brow.


    A ripple reverberated throughout my kingdom of nightmares.


    I leaned to the side as a bolt whistled past my ear. The outline of a person disappeared behind the safety of a castle wall. The rattle of chains grew louder. I staggered towards the fading figure. At last, somebody else to fight. I rounded the corner and came face to face with the crisp blue eyes of the Radiant Archer.


    I frowned.


    Hadn¡¯t I decided not to kill him? My thoughts were so¡­ distant. Why did he try to shoot me? I hadn¡¯t given myself away, had I? Hiding myself from everyone was so tiresome. It was easier to kill the witnesses. I couldn¡¯t let the heroes see me. Why wouldn¡¯t they just let me help them? Did he see what I did?


    ¡°A bolt?¡± I raised my sword and took another step closer. ¡°Interesting way to greet a friend.¡±


    ¡­ Did he really need to stay alive? I examined the lean muscled, black haired, swaggering braggart. The Radiant Archer reached for a bolt and reloaded his crossbow while I deliberated. He looked up again and met my eyes, then cocked his head to the side.


    ¡°We¡¯d get along like two sharpers in a fire,¡± his lips twitched. ¡°Do you know what a Novice is?¡±


    A Novice was my Name. A Novice was what I was. The girl in the cage wailed something at me. The Radiant Archer was dead. She screamed that the Radiant Archer was dead. This was the Black Knight. My thoughts returned to the battle before. A wave of darkness intercepted the bolt.


    Push back against it!


    The whiny voice squeezed past her cage.


    The fortified walls burned green beneath the moonlight. Moonlight? There was no moonlight. That hadn¡¯t happened yet, had it?


    Live now, worry about the future later.


    I shook my head.


    ¡°An apprentice of some kind?¡± I gritted my teeth. ¡°If this is a roundabout way to ask me to be your squire, then I¡¯m not interested. Not unless I get to stab you as part of the deal.¡±


    No, this wasn¡¯t me. This wasn¡¯t what I wanted. Castle walls became abandoned tents, became castle walls once more. My head throbbed and my shoulders shook. The little girl slammed against her bars. The bars did not give. Spectral abominations trailed their forked tongues along my ears. Kill him, kill the Radiant Archer¡¯s corpse. The beast purred. The rattle of chains was close. I hoisted my sword and narrowed my eyes.


    ¡°A Novice has many teachers but no master,¡± the puppet declared as it advanced through the arching castle doorway. ¡°She isn¡¯t even the master of herself.¡±


    He has Goblin Fire!


    What was that? My head throbbed.


    I darted forward. My shoulders loosened as I passed through the threshold. I slashed at my adversary. The corpse threw its crossbow at my head. An inky tentacle slammed it against the ground. No, stop it. I shouldn¡¯t do that. I needed to keep hidden. A flash, then a harsh clang. One blade met another. Sparks spurted off the edges. My eyes widened as the form before me transformed. A pale man with green eyes and a murderous grin. No, he wasn¡¯t here. This was nothing more than the corpse he used.


    ¡°A Black Knight is a White Knight but with a different colour armour,¡± I grabbed at his arm and twisted. It snapped. ¡°Any more trite commentary before I stab you?¡±


    The shadows wrapped themselves around me like the jaws of a slobbering beast. I pushed back against their whispers. He took a step back and withdrew his blade, then parried another of my blows. I cut low again. He evaded the blow.


    My eyes darted from side to side. A chair on my left. A table stacked high with dusty globes occupied the middle of the fortress room. Goblin Fire. What about it? There was a¡­ pattern to his fighting. He kept changing tactics. He kept¡­ peeling parts of me away. Layer by layer. Like an onion.


    Until there was nothing left.


    My eyes widened like the rising of the sun.


    ¡°The heroes will turn against you,¡± the pallid lips smiled. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Nightmare Child?¡±


    A scythe of shadows carved its way through his head. Goblin Fire¡­ I need to¡­ The corpse was seized by ephemeral claws, then thrown through the castle door. Green flames erupted as it struck the ground. I staggered into the chair. My sword slipped between bloody fingers and clattered to the ground. I ran my hands through my hair. My mind was swallowed by fog. My eyes drooped.


    Rest¡­ I could¡­ rest now.


    Oblivion whispered to me. No. I lashed out against the call of the grave. My hands dug crimson furrows into my legs. Shadows pooled around my feet. I hummed to the rhythm of a forlorn tune that I didn¡¯t even know the words of. I didn¡¯t want to go to sleep.


    The ringing of chains grew louder.


    I looked up. Bald head. Greying eyebrows. Not too tall. Edric. His name was Edric. He appeared at the door to the fortress. He was adjusting his gloves. Hero¡­ he was a¡­ hero. I couldn¡¯t let him¡­ see me like¡­ like what? Words. Words slipped from me. Two cloaked figures stood behind him. All three had their weapons drawn. The beast whispered. Feast. I could feast. No, I¡¯d promised not to. We were on the same side, weren¡¯t we?


    ¡°Catherine,¡± his hard voice broke through my thoughts, ¡°or should I call you the Nightmare Child?¡±


    Kill!


    Don¡¯t!


    Kill!


    Don¡¯t!


    Kill!


    Phantoms danced in the corners of my vision. Ghostly aberrations curled their spindly limbs and opened their jaws. Their fangs extended. They gave me the monstrous mockery of a grin.


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ come¡­ closer,¡± my jaws clenched, ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not¡­ in¡­ control.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t control it?¡± his voice quietened.


    I tried to speak. Decided against it. Words were difficult. Too much effort.


    I nodded instead.


    The madness wanted him. Wanted him dead. Drink deep, it whispered. Gorge on his blood. A lingering lethargy stole over me. It took monumental effort to keep myself restrained. How much time did I even have left? There was a faint rustle as he shifted from one foot to another.


    His eyes fell on the corpse.


    ¡°Did you kill the Radiant Archer?¡± he pressed.


    ¡°Black Knight,¡± I shook my head, ¡°uses zombies. Not them,¡± I let out a hacking cough. ¡°Need healing. Won¡¯t live otherwise.¡±


    Edric turned his attention back to me. He hunched his shoulders and sheathed his blade. He made himself smaller. Like he was trying to avoid the attention from gangs on the street. The predator in me stalked from side to side.


    ¡°Maintain discipline,¡± there was a softness to his scrutiny. ¡°I¡¯m approaching.¡±


    He reached out towards me with a hand wreathed in Light. The other hand remained pressed against the hilt of a dagger at his side. The beast snarled and the shadows chortled. Sweet sickness sang through my limbs. He was going to betray me. He was trying to kill me.


    You can trust him.


    The whining voice in the cage whispered.


    A small part of me tried to listen to the voice.


    The rest of me slammed the cage shut. He was going to end my life. He would draw his blade and use it to slit my throat. A manic laugh bubbled behind my lips. Not if I killed him first. I pushed back against the sickening voices. They quietened. No, I wouldn¡¯t hurt him. He would heal me. He was trying to heal me. There was a soft thrum behind my ears. The darkness screamed at me. No, I wouldn¡¯t do this. I wouldn¡¯t betray an ally.


    Billowing clouds clashed against my will. Fought, and lost.


    His hand touched against my arm.


    He stepped in closer. I heard the tell-tale sound of a knife leaving its sheath.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he whispered. ¡°It will be a merc-¡±


    My eyes widened. No, I¡¯d thought that I could trust him!


    Acid stained my tongue.


    The shadows slipped through my fingertips. They pressed against my hair thin restraint.


    My restraint broke.


    Absorb.


    Edric¡¯s pulled back his palm. It was already too late. Colour leached out of his skin. His face ¡ª already wrinkled ¡ª gained the texture of parchment. His cheeks became sallow. He staggered backwards. Muscles atrophied. There was a loud snapping. His limbs broke. The corpse of the Learned Tactician collapsed to the floor of the tent.


    A cage opened.


    I told you that you shouldn¡¯t have come here. How do you plan to escape from this?


    The inky blackness celebrated.


    The oppressive fog clouding my thoughts fell away. Fatigue sunk its languid claws deep into my limbs. My fingers felt cold, clammy. Salt rimmed the corner of my eyes and a dampness clung to my brow. I stood up and faced the entrance.


    ¡°You know,¡± I rasped, ¡°drawing a knife on someone that way doesn¡¯t seem all that heroic.¡±


    Two arrows flew towards me only to be smashed out of the air by a dusky claw. My eyes narrowed. I didn¡¯t deserve any of this! I was trying to help them. My cheeks burned and my fingers clenched. I¡¯d known that they would hate me if they learned my secret, and it still stung.


    ¡°He should have allowed us to skewer you with arrows from a distance,¡± the rightmost form ¡ª Brennan, I realized ¡ª spat. ¡°How many heroes lie dead at your hands, traitor?¡± He drew another arrow from his quiver. ¡°You fight with the Black Knight.¡±


    It was so nice how I could always trust the shadows to make me look bad.


    ¡°I found them like that,¡± I tried. ¡°This is all a misunderstanding.¡±


    Both of the figures stepped out of the tent and let out a cry.


    I grasped the handle of my sword and followed behind them with leaden steps. Two dozen arrows fell towards me. The shadows reached out and tore them from the air. The arrows flew fast. So fast that I almost missed them. Tendrils lashed out and speared their way through two of the Watch. They fell to the ground with anguished screams as their insides were mulched. The rest darted out of their reach.


    ¡°A blatant lie,¡± Brennan dismissed. ¡°When all four corpses bear the hallmarks of your brand of Evil.¡±


    Another volley of arrows raced towards me. Three umbral lances and a tenebrous rake hurtled towards my opponents. Another of them were too slow and screamed as the claws shredded them piece by piece. It wasn¡¯t long before she perished under the onslaught. The rest leaped aside with almost the same alacrity I¡¯d seen them display out on the open fields. It took me a moment to spot the difference. They lacked the unity of purpose.


    A river of sweat poured down my brow. I tugged on the gloom again, only my head was clear. The shade slipped from my ephemeral fingertips.


    ¡°Well you see,¡± I lifted my blade and deflected another arrow, ¡°there might¡¯ve been just a touch of necromancy involved.¡±


    The Watch withdrew further. They retreated through the open gate of the walled in enclosure and back into the camp itself. A rain of more arrows pelted towards me. Some of them slipped through my grasp this time. One of the projectiles screamed past me as I dodged to the side. My eyelids drooped.


    ¡°You murdered the man I loved,¡± the grey cloaked asshole dragged another arrow free from his quiver. ¡°If there is any good left in you, then surrender to the judgement of the Watch.¡±


    Why did the rebellion need to recruit the help of the one Watch member who would take the death of a hero personally? Would nothing go my way today? I retreated within the safety of the smaller camp and crouched behind the wall. Heavy gasps. I needed another plan or else they would grind me down through fatigue. A memory surfaced from the fight with the Black Knight. The train of my midnight dress snaked towards the abandoned tent.


    ¡°It¡¯s not murder,¡± I complained. ¡°It was pre-emptive self-defence.¡±


    The ringing of blades warned me of the arrival of my foes. Four cloaked men dashed through the open gate. Another shadow lance left my hands. All four dodged. I breathed in deep as I retreated further. My tenebrous fingers found their quarry. I gave a gentle tug. The sound of metal sinking into wood warned me of my enemy¡¯s intent. I glanced upwards. Dark skinned hands pulled their way up onto the top of the palisade fence.


    ¡°You are not an ally,¡± the voice of Brennan continued, ¡°but a traitor. A murderer.¡±


    My dusky monstrosities scattered the first of the arrows to descend from above. Wisps wrapped around the legs of the four men chasing me. I tried to tear into them. The shadows tore loose from my clutch. I parried the first sword with my own. The second tore my weapon from my grip and sent it to the ground. My opponents formed a crescent around me at a distance, cornering me like a fox in a snarel. I tried to turn the formless clouds of darkness at their heals into something more substantive. It felt like scraping at an empty bowl. Eyes like sharpened iron pinned me to the earth. They took a step closer.


    ¡°Judgment¡¯s easy in a white cloak, isn¡¯t it?¡± I challenged. ¡°There¡¯s no other difference between us.¡±


    I glanced upwards. The remainder of the Watch stood perched on the wall. Which was lovely. With my luck, I was about to be pinned to the ground by half a dozen arrows and maybe a bolt from another puppet for good measure. A dozen clay balls raced towards us. I tried to shape the shadows into a sharpened edge. I failed. My breath quickened. I tried again.


    ¡°Such a disappointment,¡± Brennan sniffed as he reached to his quiver, ¡°Mabli invested so much time into teaching you.¡±


    At least if you¡¯re burned by Goblin Fire, it will save people from wasting time disposing of your corpse.


    I scowled. Couldn¡¯t the voice in my head be nicer to me?


    An obsidian razor the length of my foot formed behind me and slammed into the palisade. There was a crack. I threw myself through the hole as pottery pounded against both flesh and wood. Four men howled. Hungry green flames rushed up the defence, then started to spread along the soil.


    I considered leaving a few parting words.


    The shimmering in the air convinced me otherwise.


    My chest heaved as I turned and staggered away. I dashed backwards and forwards. I didn¡¯t know if any would escape my trap. It was best not to take the chance.


    Where are we going now?


    The Reluctant Strategist needed to know that the Black Knight was still somewhere nearby. Was there a way for me to sneak back into Summerholm? They might let me into the city again. So long as there weren¡¯t any survivors, I should be able to get back in.


    Look out!


    My body turned on someone else¡¯s whims, but it was too slow. An arrow slammed into my back and sent me sprawling to the ground. Another slammed into my arm. I blinked, dazed. Who was that leaning over me? My vision darkened. Was this how it ended? No, I refused to die like this. I tried to struggle to my feet but couldn¡¯t find the strength.


    ¡°A mercy,¡± Brennan whispered and notched an arrow. ¡°A kinder fate than you deserve.¡±


    Something struck him from the side. A metal boot settled beside my head. The armour looked familiar. Was that the Loyal Aegis? I still didn¡¯t know who he was loyal to. With my luck, he was loyal to feeding me dirt. I struggled against sleep, but won no ground. My eyes closed. I listened to two voices argue over my body as I drifted into the land of slumber.


    I clawed against the gullet of darkness.


    The nightmares gulped.


    It wasn¡¯t long before I was swallowed whole.

 Perdition 6.0c

    ¡°Seventy-seven: Trust in patterns to guide your future, even when they appear to be nothing more than chance. You can always be assured that it is fate and not chance alone behind lucky repetitions.¡±


    ¡ª ¡°Two Hundred Heroic Axioms¡±, author unknown


    <hr>


    Just one more time, Abigail. Please, Abigail. It¡¯s not stupid, Abigail. Even if I come back with half a dozen less wits to show for it, Abigail.


    Abigail chewed on a strand of raven hair as she sneaked away from the sally port. Cat would be fine, and if she wasn¡¯t fine, she¡¯d find a way through, and if she didn¡¯t find a way through, she¡¯d kill the problem. There was a part of her that whispered traitorous thoughts in her ears about what if the problem was too big for her friend to kill, but Abigail brushed it under a dusty rag and ignored it. If Cat couldn¡¯t kill the issue, then was too big for Abigail to worry about.


    A brief stretch of the legs down the dark corridor and through the heavyset wooden door saw her back on the streets. Her shoulders relaxed once she was out of the gatehouse. Many of the guards knew that she was in with the Novice, but there was a slim chance she was caught and drilled by one of the grim-faced tin soldiers who didn¡¯t know any better. Still, she considered this plan better than setting all the horses loose in the stables, though less bad than the idea had landed her in enough hot water to drown the Tower was a low bar to clear.


    Abigail scowled.


    She took an abrupt turn away from the watchtower into the shadow of a nearby alley as she spotted those two god''s damned Akouan assholes once again. Small footprints marred the road ahead. Abigail frowned. There weren¡¯t that many children on the streets. Everyone knew that they were more Proceran than Callowan, and it showed with how they treated her. Why were they always patrolling nearby? Well, at least the third one wasn¡¯t around.


    Those guards reminded her of her brothers.


    Her brothers had nagged on her before she met the Novice, and since then had only become worse. When can we meet the hero, Abigail? Why do you never bring her home, Abigail? Why don¡¯t you have to learn how to be a tanner, Abigail? Never mind that her da had told her never to being the hero to visit, in case she turned up her nose at the smell.


    Abigail rounded the other side of the building and let out a sigh. The Summerholm guards stationed at this watchtower looked far more reasonable. She waited as a small crowd of children carrying rusted knives and wearing nothing more than rags chased a rat down the alley. She watched them for a few moments. Perhaps there were that many children on the streets, she thought darkly.


    God¡¯s Above, she shuddered as they disappeared, what a mess. Her da would warn her that it could be her. That it didn¡¯t matter if the ¡°hero¡± was daft, or shifty ¡ª or maybe, possibly, not a hero at all ¡ª she shouldn¡¯t squander her chance to pull herself up. He hadn¡¯t had enough coin to feed their whole family after Abigail¡¯s ma was knifed two years ago. Not enough people visited the family shop any more, and it wasn¡¯t long until it needed to be sold. Abigail and her brothers had helped her uncle out in the tannery outside the city walls to make ends meet.


    Abigail would rather run away from home than end up like that.


    A loud rattle above caused her to halt. She stopped and looked towards the flattened roofs above her. A crow cawed at her. She scowled, picked up a rock, and fed it what it deserved.


    ¡°Are you lost, little miss?¡± a blonde guard in heavy armour waved a hand at her as she reached the next watchtower.


    ¡°Headed to the Last Stop,¡± she shook her head and waved back in turn.


    ¡°You take care now,¡± the light skinned woman smiled down at her, ¡°times are hard on all of us.¡±


    Abigail scratched at the uncomfortable leather covering her chest as she left the shadow of the watchtower. It wasn¡¯t long before she arrived at the Last Stop. A dozen wooden tables with at least two to four times as many stools were lined up in a grid along a deck that extended outwards from the weathered brick building. The usual trio of girls had dragged two tables together and rearranged the seating as well. The fact that one table provided enough space for all of them had never been considered to begin with. The owner glared at them while dusting down a table from under the shelter of the rafter, but Abigail knew that she was kind at heart.


    ¡°Alone this time?¡± a clipped voice called out.


    ¡°For now,¡± Abigail looked to the speaker and lowered her eyes.


    ¡°So the Princess left her palace,¡± a petite girl with green eyes and narrow black eyebrows puffed out her pale cheeks. ¡°Who¡¯d she kill this time?¡± She drummed her skeletal fingers on the tabletop, ¡°Was it only one soldier this time, or did she get ambitious?¡±


    Abigail sat facing the main road. She hoped she¡¯d be able to see Catherine arriving. The other girls had stopped giving her lip about following Cat around all the time. Well, they¡¯d stopped after Cat had overheard and given them something to complain about. It didn¡¯t help that her da was trying to set her up with the hero, but he¡¯d told her he¡¯d be happy even if she got herself a well paying job out of the arrangement as well.


    ¡°Who knows, Elara.¡± Abigail fidgeted with her hair, ¡°She¡¯ll return.¡±


    ¡°Joining us?¡± a taller girl with long blonde hair and a freckled nose asked as she dealt herself a hand. ¡°We¡¯re starting a new round.¡±


    The cards were worn around the edges, but the girl palmed each one with care. The owner of the Last Stop loaned the pack whenever better off kids like these stopped by. Making a mess of that seemed like a fine way to have a good thing revoked. There was no harm in whiling away the hours like this while she fretted over past and present events.


    ¡°For a few hands, Teresa,¡± Abigail replied.


    The game started as the four of them fell silent. Abigail looked at her hand and fidgeted with her hair. She drew, discarded, then risked a glance over the Elara¡¯s shoulders on her right. Her rival had a bad hand. The narrow-faced girl opposite Abigail took her turn. Abigail peeked over Teresa¡¯s shoulders on her left. Another bad hand.


    It wasn¡¯t long before her attention drifted away from the game to the streets.


    Where was Catherine?


    The next game began and a couple of rounds passed. The last round came just as fast as it did during the first game. Abigail paid just as much attention to the outcome as well.


    The fighting should have ended by now.


    The cards were shuffled, Abigail drew again. The third and forth games passed in a blur of easy bickering. Abigail¡¯s mind was outside the city walls. The fifth game started. The other girls kept trying to pull her into the conversation, but didn¡¯t find much success.


    ¡°Hey Abigail,¡± a smile crawled up Elara¡¯s face as she raised an eyebrow, ¡°you should knife whoever stole your breakfast.¡±


    Some of Elara¡¯s mannerisms reminded her of Catherine.


    The cautious girl muttered a vague response and licked at her dry lips as the next hand was dealt. She told herself that nothing was wrong. That the Loyal Aegis would ride out if a drunk started a fight in the tavern. Abigail was about to begin her next turn when a procession caught her eye from behind Twyla¡¯s back. Her card¡¯s fell against the table.


    A score of bloody Watch members limped towards the inner city.


    Abigail was halfway towards the main road before she even realized it. She slowed and adjusted her jerkin ¡ª her nipples itched something fierce ¡ª then squared her shoulders and followed after the Watch.


    You don¡¯t care about Catherine, you¡¯re only looking out for her to look out for your own future.


    It wasn¡¯t long before she caught sight of Catherine. She was carried unconscious by the armoured form of the Loyal Aegis. Her hands were bound, her head was shaking from side to side. She had a pained look on her face, and blood stained her armour. The man¡¯s helmet was off and his short crop of crimson hair faced towards her. His procession stood apart from the rest of the Watch.


    Abigail¡¯s stomach fluttered like the wings of a dying moth as she approached. Every step felt heavier, the distance to her both too close and too far.


    ¡°What happened to her?¡± she tugged at the man¡¯s gauntleted hand.


    The Loyal Aegis halted. A single swift motion saw him facing her way.


    ¡°You are her friend?¡± his cow brown eyes fell upon her and softened, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Another?¡± a grey cloaked man glared at her. ¡°Ah, I remember you.¡±


    Shit. Abigail took one look at the malevolent storm cloud brewing beneath the man¡¯s face and thought to herself, feelingly. Shitshitshit. What had Cat done? Had she gone strange in the head and attacked the Watch members? Abigail knew that she was probably not a hero. Everyone knew that heroes didn¡¯t dress in black and get all dark and broody, or always jump to killing people first. The shadows didn¡¯t behave like kittens mewling for the attention of their mother around heroes, either.


    ¡°Whatever it is th-¡± Abigail cut off her words and took a step back as the man bared steel.


    There was a scraping noise as the Loyal Aegis placed himself between her and the Watch leader.


    ¡°You would shield her as well?¡± Brennan sneered.


    ¡°She has done nothing,¡± the Loyal Aegis shook his head. ¡°You know about my orders.¡±


    ¡°Stand aside,¡± Brennan took a step forward.


    The Loyal Aegis didn¡¯t flinch. His gaze was hard. His jaw set as if he was carved from stone. He was a wall between Abigail and the Watch leader.


    ¡°Your orders say nothing about this one,¡± the grey cloaked figure tried again.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep them safe,¡± Eadgar replied, ¡°that¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes narrowed. His grip tightened around his blade. He scowled, sheathed the weapon, then turned away and joined the rest of his fellows.


    ¡°Can I come with?¡± Abigail¡¯s hands drifted to her arm guards before she stilled them.


    ¡°You should find new friends,¡± Eadgar advised, ¡°she¡¯s not safe.¡±


    ¡°Green fire,¡± Catherine slurred in her slumber, ¡°walls, night.¡± Her fingers trailed along the pavement and she shook again. ¡°Watch out for the walls at night.¡±


    Abigail stiffened and looked down at her friend.


    ¡°She used Goblin Fire on the Watch,¡± Eadgar explained.


    Abigail thought about correcting the man. She decided against it. He¡¯d claim it was a fever dream and dismiss the importance of it. Her shoulders slumped. She backed away from the stubborn ox. She had spent enough time around the Loyal Aegis in the company of Catherine to know that he never changed his mind. It was all duty and blind loyalty to those he had devoted himself to with him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll consider it,¡± Abigail lied.


    ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± the Loyal Aegis denied.


    Her feet wandered as she considered what to do. She brushed aside a lock of black hair and scratched an itch on her nose. Abigail would bet her last aurelius that Mabli knew that Cat was a villain. She¡¯d also bet that was why Mabli had sent the Loyal Aegis after Catherine. She¡¯d only need to ask the man for an oath, and he¡¯d carry it out even if he disagreed with it later.


    Don¡¯t do anything.


    Abigail set coins that Cat had ¡°rightfully retrieved¡± from somebody else and given to her on the table before the owner of the Last Stop a few moments later. The woman¡¯s lips pressed into a line, but she said nothing and pushed over a vile smelling brew. She picked up the drink and approached the trio once again.


    Abigail hoped the drink would keep her from making any stupid mistakes.


    ¡°Back again?¡± Twyla¡¯s grey eyes met hers as Abigail sat down opposite her, ¡°Do we need to worry? I thought you¡¯d be sticking with your friend.¡±


    The wind died as she approached the table. Abigail spared another glance at the empty road. No, she wouldn¡¯t do anything rash. She¡¯d play the game and not think about the looming threat of Goblin Fire.


    ¡°I was told to leave,¡± Abigail explained as settled down to play cards with the others while she pondered the future. ¡°Deal me in.¡±


    She took a sip of the beer and grimaced. It tasted even worse than it smelt. Ah, well, anything was better than drinking the slop her da used to peddle. She clung to the hope that it would drown out her worries. Abigail was no hero. She had no lofty dreams of coming out of nowhere and saving the day. She was comfortable being as far as physically possible from anything dangerous. Her brief adventures with Cat had been enough to cure her of any ambitions in that direction.


    ¡°Two rounds passed since you left,¡± Teresa shrugged from her left and brushed aside a golden lock.


    Teresa finished shuffling the deck, then spread the cards out one at a time, going from right to left. Abigail picked up the hand she was dealt and frowned. It wasn¡¯t a good one. One of the cards was also upside down. It featured a dark, faceless woman holding a red banner with the word TRIUMPH written large. Abigail took another sip of the drink, then almost spat it out only a moment later. Did the woman just wink at her? No, no, it didn¡¯t. She shrugged to herself. She¡¯d be damned before she cared enough to think more about it.


    Or to turn it right way up.


    ¡°I heard she set the stables on fire once,¡± Elara fretted with the hem of her stained, threadbare shirt as she drew a card and discarded three cackling goblins standing at the mouth of a cave. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    Do something once and see it get recounted wrong forever, Abigail thought darkly. Just think about the game, forget everything else.


    With the Three of Pentacles gone, Elara could be counted to be playing something else. That, or she had some kind of mixed hand with the Major Arcana. Abigail rubbed the sweat off her brow. The strategy of play was a headache to keep track of. Her thoughts drifted.


    Goblin Fire.


    How was she going to deal with the problem of Goblin Fire?


    No, don¡¯t think about it.


    Abigail caught a glimpse of the new card in the other girl¡¯s hand. Five metal blades resting at the feet of a man in green. With the Five of Swords in hand, it stood to reason that she either held more of them or that the Three of Cups was her lowest card.


    Abigail fidgeted with her hair.


    The two Legions that disappeared were set to make a reappearance soon. Abigail was sure of it. Should she flee? Should her family? Abigail almost snorted. It was the kind of idea Catherine would come up with. It wasn¡¯t like there was anywhere for her to go in the middle of the siege.


    ¡°I only let the horses loose,¡± Abigail denied as dark and broody Twyla tossed aside a fair-haired woman subduing a lion. ¡°Anything else is made up.¡±


    That made two players who weren¡¯t playing the Major Arcana. Should Abigail aim to win that way? Her hand was so bad that winning by either rule was liable to take multiple rounds.


    Was this it? What was the Watch¡¯s problem with the Novice? Did the heroes know that she was a villain now? Abigail straightened her back and glanced towards the outer walls.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    The others at the table looked at her askance as she whined at the back of her throat. Too late. It was too late for her to bail now, she admitted to herself. There was nowhere to run. The Calamities were coming, and Abigail had already thrown her lot in with the creepy girl who made the shadows dance to her tune.


    ¡°Chin up and smile,¡± Teresa smiled at her and switched the Strength card out with a black spire of stone piercing even the clouds. ¡°Don¡¯t get all broody like your rich friend is.¡±


    Another player not playing the Major Arcana. Another thorn in her foot. Abigail shook the wool from her head. She didn¡¯t want to think about the game any further.


    Abigail needed to find a way to get back to her friend. No, that was the wrong pile of stinking leather to worry about. Mabli wouldn¡¯t allow Catherine to die. Abigail would eat her sole pair of shoes before the Reluctant Strategist changed her mind on that. The other heroes would leave if something didn¡¯t happen, though. Perhaps they¡¯d insist on having her imprisoned? Either way, Abigail had other rats to chew on.


    ¡°So hypothetically,¡± she changed the topic as she let go of a man holding two golden coins trapped in a knotted rope and claimed the Tower.


    Not that any amount of switching cards would do her much good. Her hand was hopeless, like fate itself was using her for a laugh. Discarding the Two of Pentacles didn¡¯t do much to change that. This game was as good as lost. At least it helped distract her for a few moments from the worries that Cat had dropped on her lap.


    You were always one for theory, Abigail.¡± Elara cast aside a skeleton seated on a throne while raising a razor-thin eyebrow at her.


    Perhaps Sullivan could help? No, bad idea. He was creepy. Besides, she¡¯d need to find him first. Abigail could never remember what he looked like. It was better to try something else.


    ¡°What if you heard something big¡­ and no one else believed it?,¡± Abigail tapped her foot on the ground, ¡°what do you do?¡±


    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s important?¡± Twyla scratched at her narrow jaw as she picked up Death, then discarded a man in plate with nine wooden stakes behind him. Her eyes never drifted far from her hand. It was almost as if she expected everyone around her to break the rules.


    Abigail scrunched her brow. That play puzzled her. Why pick up the discard if she wasn¡¯t building a band of five? No, better to focus on the real problems.


    Could she approach the Stalwart Guardian?


    Glytha was practical, she might listen. The problem was that Abigail would need to reach her first. Abigail wiped the sweat from her brow and took a sip of the poison beside her. Couldn¡¯t the sun set any faster?


    ¡°It was something the Novice said,¡± Abigail explained.


    ¡°She¡¯s trouble, but¡­¡± Teresa relinquished Strength and picked up the Nine of Wands. ¡°You could tell the guards you heard it from some other hero.¡±


    Abigail considered both her hand and the play while she chewed on the idea. Teresa was playing Wands. Abigail was certain of it. Now, what should Abigail do with her turn? Should she pull from the deck or the discard? Aiming for a win by five seemed out of her reach even now. She drew from the deck. A crowned woman holding a sword. Mistake. She couldn¡¯t discard that even if the rules prevented it, Elara would pounce on it. She discarded the Tower and held onto the Queen of Swords.


    ¡°Bad idea,¡± Elara shook her head and switched out a man holding four gold coins for the Tower, ¡°she¡¯d get punched for trying it.¡±


    What could she do? Maybe the Reluctant Strategist would listen to Cat. Mabli was sensible, but there was a chance that Cat never repeated what she said. It was best not to leave it to chance. Abigail didn¡¯t fancy the idea of being roasted in an open fire.


    ¡°They would doubt her,¡± Twyla murmured. Her eyes were downcast, locked to her hands. Then she set an upside down man hanging from a length of wood on top of the Four of Pentacles.


    Abigail turned away from the Hanged Man while she considered further. Perhaps she should try to reach Mabli? No, that was a waste of time. It was rare that Catherine could talk to Mabli and the Novice had a Name. Abigail wasn¡¯t anyone important. There was no chance of her arranging a meeting at all. She just needed to make do with the city burning while people with fancy colours on their clothes told others what to do.


    ¡°All right, who¡¯s brave enough to count?¡± Teresa gave a sly grin. Then she set her cards on the table. There was a clatter as everyone else followed her lead.


    Abigail scowled at her hand. Swords were her highest, but that didn¡¯t count for much with the Empress and the Moon holding no weight.


    Elara wasn¡¯t doing much better. The first card she revealed showed a dark-skinned man with a crown on his head: the Emperor. Then came the next. A hunched over, tanned figure clad in grey holding a lantern and a length of wood: the Hermit. Abigail turned her gaze away. The rest of the cards were dross.


    Twyla¡¯s set of five was such a mess that it made everyone else¡¯s look good. The first was a fair prince, riding a chariot pulled by horses both black and white: the Chariot. Next came the Two of Cups and the Queen of Pentacles. A fair skinned woman in the nude who was wreathed in gold came fourth: the World. Death was last. What had she even been doing the whole game?


    ¡°See?¡± Teresa winked and gestured to her cards, ¡°Clearly, Creation insists I¡¯m right.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see what the two have to do with each other,¡± Abigail mumbled.


    She glared at both the upside down clay wheel surrounded by creatures in the other girl¡¯s hand and the dark skinned youth with stars for eyes wearing a red robe. Calling a count was a ballsy play, and yet not even the empty weight of the Wheel of Fortune and Hierophant offset Teresa¡¯s win.


    ¡°I bet she cheated again,¡± Twyla mumbled. ¡°It¡¯s not by chance that she always wins when she deals.¡±


    ¡°Pffft,¡± Teresa exclaimed, ¡°well you see-¡±


    The clarion call of trumpets blared out and interrupted their talk. Abigail looked up and observed a procession march it''s way down the main thoroughfare. The Faithful Warrior, resplendent on his white steed, rode with his senior officers. Cat had shared some of the things she¡¯d heard the man say with Abigail, and she wasn¡¯t impressed.


    His arrival meant that the force under his command was either present at Summerholm or soon to arrive. Should she talk to him and warn him about the incoming attack? No, she decided that was a pants idea. He¡¯d never met her before, and it was doubtful he¡¯d take her at her word.


    Perhaps she should listen to Teresa?


    It was better to try talking to the local guards.


    But what should she tell them? Cat had muttered about the walls burning green. Goblin Fire. She couldn¡¯t go to the guards and warn them about that, they¡¯d tell her to take the piss at someone else. Abigail needed something more real. A lie that sounded believable enough that people would go along with whatever she made up.


    Abigail staggered to her feet and said her farewells. She ignored the heat on her cheeks, hunched her shoulders, then headed towards the second-nearest Watchtower, giving her two nemeses at the nearest watchtower a baleful glare as she passed.


    ¡°Back again?¡± the blonde woman asked. ¡°If somebody stole your-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got orders,¡± Abigail interrupted, ¡°you¡¯re to investigate the sewers.¡±


    ¡°Really,¡± folded her arms and gave Abigail a flat stare, ¡°and who gave you those orders?¡±


    ¡°The Reluctant Strategist,¡± Abigail lied. ¡°Goblins are infiltrating the city there.¡±


    It was a load of bullocks, but the idea was plausible enough that somebody might listen to her. There¡¯d been plenty of commotion around the sewers after the Novice used them to escape. She just needed to kick up enough of a fuss and somebody important would come and investigate. If she¡¯d learned anything from Cat, it was that. Then she just needed to pass on the warning.


    The challenge would be talking her way out of the cook pot afterwards.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good jest,¡± the woman gave her a half grin, ¡°but I¡¯m not falling for that unless you¡¯ve got those orders written down.¡±


    Abigail adjusted her armour and tried another watchtower. She was met with much of the same result. It took another three tries before she was frustrated enough to try an idea that she knew she¡¯d regret.


    ¡°No, no, no, no, no,¡± the black haired guard with the curly moustache raised his hands and backed away as she approached. ¡°I want nothing to do with whatever you¡¯re bringing my way.¡±


    What? Abigail hadn¡¯t expected that reaction. She¡¯d chosen the man because she knew that he¡¯d recognize her. Her shoulders relaxed and her fingers unclenched. She took another step closer.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got orders for you, Steve,¡± Abigail¡¯s lips twitched.


    ¡°Orders?¡± the man whimpered. ¡°You¡¯re sure they aren¡¯t for somebody else?¡±


    It feels good when somebody else is eating crow, the cautious girl admitted to herself. Now, she only had one chance to get this right. She¡¯d need to adjust her plan. Abigail couldn¡¯t waste time finding other guards who would listen to her. Perhaps she could use him? Having him along with her would make it easier to convince others of what she said.


    ¡°There are goblins in the sewers,¡± she confirmed, ¡°We¡¯re rounding up guards and sending them down there.¡±


    The man gave her another baleful glare. It didn¡¯t matter. She turned away to hide her smile when he nodded. Was it really this easy? After all the trouble that the three of them gave her? Perhaps there was some justice in Creation after all.


    ¡°We¡¯ll follow,¡± Steve muttered, ¡°better than the alternative.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t hard to make headway with two guards following behind her. Soon over a dozen watchtowers stood abandoned with men running from their posts.


    The dipping of the sun marked the passage of time.


    The roads grew more for a brief while. Then, there was an up tick in guard activity. Long lines of patrols marched out from the inner city along routes she wasn¡¯t familiar with. The back of her neck tingled. Those weren¡¯t regular patrol routes.


    Abigail¡¯s sunburned cheeks let out a sigh when the sun dipped just below the horizon. She almost smiled when a red-faced messenger accosted her. Now I just need to find a way out of the trouble I¡¯ve landed myself in.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who gave the warning?¡± he panted.


    Abigail¡¯s heart jumped.


    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± she squeaked.


    ¡°You¡¯re coming to the walls,¡± the blue-eyed blond youth demanded.


    ¡°Something the matter?¡± her eyes widened.


    ¡°Nothing much,¡± he shrugged, ¡°lot of people who want to know how you knew.¡±


    Wait, what?


    ¡°How I knew?¡± Abigail¡¯s voice rose an octave.


    ¡°About the goblins in the sewers,¡± he tugged at her hand. ¡°Come on. They don¡¯t have all day.¡±


    Abigail could feel her stomach drop. She allowed the boy to lead the way. She¡¯d wanted to land in just a bit of trouble. Enough to talk to somebody important. This was so much worse than she¡¯d expected. Were they going to hang her as a traitor? What would her family say when they found out? She could feel a wave of manic laughter bubble up in her stomach. She was dead. Completely dead. Any moment now, and one of the guards would tell her which rope she should be hanging from. She was sure of it. Why didn¡¯t she just run back home?


    What were those noises? It sounded like cries and the scraping of metal. The other guards with her drew their weapons. No, it wasn¡¯t her problem. She had other complications to concern herself with.


    Abigail followed behind the fleet footed youth as her mind summoned forth more and more horrors to torment her with. They had reached the base of the stairwell leading up towards the ramparts when it all went to the hells.The boy¡¯s scream was cut short as green shadows surged forward, a goblin¡¯s blade slicing his throat. Abigail stumbled back, heart hammering as blood sprayed the stones.


    Abigail stumbled back.


    Steel glinted in the afternoon light. Abigail dodged to the side. She barely avoided being skewered by another. She drew the blade at her side, swung wildly and wailed. Fuck, she exclaimed in her head, fuckfuckfuck. Abigail had almost no skill with the weapon. She¡¯d only been given it due to her friendship with Cat. What do I do? What do I do? Her sword met resistance. She wasn¡¯t sure what it was. So long as it wasn¡¯t friendly, she didn¡¯t care. She pulled hard and stumbled backwards. Another one of the little shits threw itself at her. She swung again.


    Red flew.


    Abigail panted and glanced around. Five of the bastards lay dead in a circle around them. The messenger let out a dying gurgle, and so did the second guard. She¡¯d killed someone. She¡¯d killed someone. She¡¯d really killed someone. What would her da think? What did she think?


    ¡­ What was that taste? Was that goblin blood? She had goblin blood in her mouth!


    Her vision blurred as acid tinged the back of her throat. What was that yellow mess on the floor?


    She trembled and spat.


    Deep breaths.


    Deep breaths.


    A voice interrupted her justified panic.


    ¡°Again,¡± Steve groaned and circled with his weapon drawn, ¡°why is there always trouble with you?¡±


    ¡°With me?!¡± she wailed, ¡°That¡¯s unfair! I¡¯m always dragged into this mess,¡± she glared. ¡°Catherine is the one who-¡± she cut off, took two deep breaths and gulped.


    The guard gave her a flat look.


    Abigail ran an ichor stained palm through her hair, then realized the mess it would be to clean. Perhaps she could convince him to leave the walls now that the messenger was dead? Staying here seemed like a bad idea. Besides, the guards appeared to have everything on hand.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she urged, ¡°We need to get away from the walls.¡±


    Steve looked like he was about to say something before shaking his head.


    ¡°Anywhere else,¡± he muttered, shaking his head. ¡°Anywhere else is better than-¡±


    Hisssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!


    His voice cut off as a line of green erupted along the base of the fortification. Both of them turned and sprinted. The air behind her shimmered. So fast. This couldn¡¯t possibly have been the work of a single day. How had the goblins pulled this off?


    Dark figures coiled out of the shadows.


    Catherine had said the walls would burn. What had made her think going to the walls was a good idea?


    She spared a glance over her shoulder. Veridian flames twisted and roiled at the base of large parts of the now distant fortifications. Large swaths of the walls were ignited with each passing heartbeat. A hole had been burned through the city gates. The reinforcements brought by the Faithful Warrior were camped just outside the walls. Abigail looked further. Dark shapes gathered at the horizon, foreboding as storm clouds. No, not figures. The black tower on a red background told a tale all by themselves.


    Abigail panted and pushed a lock aside as she stepped into a narrow alley. Boots echoed behind her. The missing Legions would crush the reinforcements against the burning walls. Then the rest of the rebellion would die horribly. The Black Knight had played them like a lute so far, so why shouldn¡¯t she expect anything else?


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t we sticking to the main road?¡± Steve scratched at his moustache.


    ¡°We¡¯re more likely to be attacked,¡± Abigail lied, ¡°it¡¯s more open.¡±


    She really just wanted to stay out of trouble. Somebody would notice her along the road and drag her kicking and screaming into another fight. The sound of conflict lessened the further they pulled into the city. Hiding was better. Much better.


    ¡°Just listen, and you¡¯ll come out the other side,¡± the man muttered.


    Abigail was about to reply when another green menace threw itself at her. She jumped to the side on instinct, then thrust with her blade. Her arm throbbed with the impact. Two more dropped from above, and then it was just a sea of terror.


    Run, stab, run, stab.


    Abigail didn¡¯t know how long the fight lasted. Steve let out a choked cough and disappeared somewhere along her mad dash to safety. That, or he died. He was probably dead. If only tanning hides could save you from goblin blades. She whimpered. It was hard to see anything. The moon only lit up parts of the streets. The monstrous shadows of buildings still loomed over her.


    Abigail stepped out of another narrow alley with a soaked brow, red lines down her face and snot staining her upper lip. Cooked. She was so cooked. The Greenskins were going to put her in a pot, and it was all over from there.


    Where was safe? Abigail glanced towards the inner city walls. Next to Cat was probably safe. She wiped her brow and sprinted towards them. Well, it wasn¡¯t safe. Cat would probably kill lots of people ¡ª was probably killing lots of people ¡ª but it was safer next to her than next to the people that Cat was killing.


    Abigail was so lost in thought that she rounded a corner only to arrive at a dead end. A pit trap, its spikes gleaming ¡ª rarer than other defences in Summerholm. She should have been more careful. She turned to backtrack when three small shadows darkened the other end of the ally.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± the one in the middle cackled. ¡°What do we have here?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t come closer,¡± Abigail trembled, ¡°I¡¯ve got a weapon!¡±


    Abigail needed a hero, or at least someone braver than her. This was when heroes rescued scared kids, right? She was backed in a corner with nowhere to go. Where was the hero? She glared as she backed away.


    ¡°Now then,¡± the rightmost goblin grinned at her, ¡°we were just-¡± its voice cut off as a knife slammed into it¡¯s head.


    Oh, thank heavens. The Catherine Maneuvre worked. Abigail blinked. The goblins began to run towards her. She yelped and stumbled back, then scrambled against the wall as her foot went over the edge of the pit. Fuckfuckfuck. There was a ringing noise as her blade clattered to the floor, as well as a loud scuffle. She ignored the latter. She needed her weapon if she wanted to live. Why couldn¡¯t she just have a normal life? Why did she choose to follow around a girl who wanted to be a hero? Abigail reached down and fumbled for the handle before the goblins killed her. A large shadow fell over her.


    ¡°Abigail,¡± a shiver ran down her spine, ¡°important people are looking for you.¡±


    Abigail¡¯s breath caught in her throat.


    That doesn¡¯t count as a hero.


    ¡°Sullivan,¡± she gulped, ¡°a pleasure.¡±


    It was a bald-faced lie, but she had enough on her plate to not want to antagonize him as well. Especially after he¡¯d just saved her from some goblins. Whattosaywhattosaywhattosay? Cat seemed to get along well with him. Perhaps this was something she could use?


    ¡°Where are you going in such a hurry?¡± he fell into step beside her. ¡°You¡¯re running as if death follows your every step.¡±


    Abigail glanced at the bloody sword at her hand. At the cuts marking her armour. At the gore staining her armour. At the three goblin corpses near the mouth of the alley. Then she looked at Sullivan and scowled.


    ¡°The Novice is being held prisoner by traitors,¡± Abigail lied.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that she¡¯s a cooperative prisoner,¡± Sullivan replied.


    ¡°I want to free her so that she can help,¡± Abigail winced.


    ¡°That¡¯s fortunate.¡± Abigail could hear the smile in the man¡¯s voice.


    She¡¯d bet it was the kind of smile a person gave when sharpening knives behind their back.


    ¡°Fortunate,¡± she narrowed her eyes at him, ¡°why?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to free her as well.¡±


    An image bloomed in Abigail¡¯s mind with those words.


    It was a vision of graves lined from one side of the horizon to the other.


    The vision did nothing to comfort her.

 Perdition 6.10

    ¡°A coup? Good Gods, of course not. I prefer the term ¡®administrative readjustment.¡±


    ¨DDread Empress Sinistra II ¡°the Coy¡±


    <hr>


    There was once a girl without a name.


    The third day of the Siege of Summerholm started with me singing along with the voice in my head. At least, I assumed it was the third day. There wasn¡¯t any way for me to measure the passing of hours, save for when the Stalwart Guardian brought me meals. The slate grey walls of my prison in the Comital Palace shimmered an insufferable shade of gold. It was like a constant reminder from the heavens that I was trapped. Delightful. I couldn¡¯t think of anything I¡¯d prefer to this. It was so nice being trapped in a drab room with a stone table, two slabs for chairs, no windows and a bed beneath my rear. I¡¯d tried asking for a cell that was less dingy only an hour past, and earned nothing more than a glare for it.


    There wasn¡¯t much for me to do.


    Nothing to do but think.


    The heroes will turn against you. Green eyes and pallid lips surfaced in my memory. They had turned away from me. It tasted like ash in my mouth. The Reluctant Strategist had come to my defence, but the Stalwart Guardian and Loyal Aegis had both remained staunchly against me. It was on Mabli¡¯s words alone that I still lived, otherwise they¡¯d have killed me while I was unconscious. I was expecting all kinds of fun once they¡¯d run out of larger worries. It was so nice to know that the only reason I lived was because there was a bigger Evil. How long ¡ª I wondered ¡ª before it was easier to kill me than keep me under watch?


    My fingers clenched around the edge of the woollen blanket. The candle on the table flickered. Dark shadows danced on the ceiling. I pushed them aside. I¡¯d tried using them to escape the Stalwart Guardian¡¯s Aspect already and failed. My progress had been pitiful. I¡¯d have laughed at myself if I wasn¡¯t the butt of the joke. I hadn¡¯t tried breaking out at meal times yet. Mostly because of the imposing figure of the Stalwart Guardian on the other side of the door. I didn¡¯t fancy my chances against her blade.


    It was all so unfair. They should be allowing me to do something. They should be allowing me to help. Now wasn¡¯t the time for us to be fighting amongst ourselves when we had a shared enemy. Instead, two of us were out of commission because nobody wanted me to help. I was trapped away under the Safeguard of the Stalwart Guardian. I scowled again at the thought of the Aspect. It sounded noble ¡ª like some form of shield against Evil ¡ª but it was nothing more than a fancy prison.


    The betrayal stung.


    A Novice has many teachers but no master. She isn''t even the master of herself.


    I trembled, leaned back against the wall, and closed my eyes at the memory. That wasn¡¯t true. I refused to let it be true. I¡¯d master the shadows no matter what. They were not in control of me. I wouldn¡¯t let them rule me.


    ¡°Going to take the words of that old pile of cogs at face value?¡± a voice that was both familiar and unfamiliar mocked.


    I opened my eyes. There was a girl that looked around seventeen summers with green eyes and platinum hair sitting on the stone table across from me. She was wearing long blue pants, a black shirt and an open jacket, with a battered metal flask in one hand and a lute resting by her side. Most of her clothing ¡ª save for the flask ¡ª were all made from fabrics that I didn¡¯t recognize, and the stitching was far, far too neat. It was the kind of clothing one of my marks would wear before I took them for a ride. The shirt had the words ¡®I distance myself from other people for a reason¡¯ written on it in white lettering.


    I snorted.


    ¡°If you¡¯re looking for the other heroes,¡± I commented, ¡°then you¡¯ve entered the wrong cell. You can find them in the other collapsing house of cards.¡±


    I could only guess who the girl was. I¡¯d heard her voice before in a conversation with the Reluctant Strategist, although it was now a distant memory. There was only one hero who I hadn¡¯t met in person. I wondered what she wanted with me. Certainly something. It wasn¡¯t like people broke into prisons guarded my someone with a Name off nothing more than a whim. Well, some might. I doubted she had. I remembered her talk with Mabli about something once, although the details were long lost.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± she gasped theatrically, ¡°little miss murder here has fallen on hard times.¡±


    She¡¯d found her way into my prison without being seen by anyone. That told me something. It told me that she didn¡¯t want to be overheard. Perhaps I should scream? My lips twitched. That¡¯d send her running. No, better to hear her out. I¡¯d still be cautious. Mabli had been suspicious of her. I¡¯d eaten enough dirt in recent days to not want to eat more. Not thinking things through had already done me enough harm.


    ¡°It¡¯s a tragedy,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Whatever shall she do?¡± the Wandering Bard took a pull from the flask then proffered it towards me, ¡°want some?¡±


    I thought about her offer for a few heartbeats before walking over. I took the battered flask from her, raised it to my lips, then let out a hacking cough. The back of my throat burned.


    ¡°You only needed to wait if you wanted me dead,¡± I wheezed. ¡°There¡¯s no need to poison me.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t work,¡± she dismissed as I passed the flask back, ¡°there¡¯s a trick to it.¡±


    ¡°My stomach disagrees,¡± I challenged.


    It was still the kind of advice that I¡¯d have killed a couple of heroes for if I thought it would do me any good. Not that it would. None of the new heroes seemed to know much about Names. It was as clear as a Praesi scrying mirror that I was woefully unprepared for fighting the Calamities after having my face shoved into the mud.


    The bed creaked as I sat again.


    ¡°You know how in tragic performances, there¡¯s often a plucky little hero who keeps getting kicked?¡± The Bard took a swig from her flask, then continued. ¡°It hurts to watch because they¡¯re nice. It¡¯s like watching somebody kicking a puppy.¡±


    Was she comparing me to a tragic hero? Abigail was closer to a hero than I was, and she didn¡¯t even have a Name. I hoped that she hadn¡¯t landed in trouble because of me. I didn¡¯t feel all that heroic at the moment. Not that I felt heroic at other moments, but I wasn¡¯t losing much sleep over that. Especially not now. The heroes weren¡¯t doing much for the rebellion. Never mind how much they were inconveniencing me.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I folded my arms and replied, ¡°this is awful. Clearly I¡¯m all misunder-¡±


    ¡°Pffft,¡± she waved a hand and scoffed at me, ¡°no you aren¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Ouch,¡± I gave her a wounded expression, ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that I¡¯m almost a saint. At least, by-¡±


    ¡°Proceran definitions,¡± she finished.


    I glowered at her for stealing the satisfaction of finishing the joke.


    ¡°You were saying something?¡± I urged her to continue.


    ¡°You know, when the second wave of Baalite settlers came to Ashur they brought animals from home with them,¡± she expounded. ¡°One of them was this stocky, muscular, four legged animal with black and grey fur called a honey badger. Tenacious little beasts. Liked to attack creatures much bigger than them. Not a feeling I can empathize with.¡±


    I had a sense of where this story was going.


    It wasn¡¯t a flattering comparison.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± I said, ¡°they broke out into the wilds and were killed by whatever monsters call Ashur their home.¡±


    ¡°Right on the money,¡± she agreed.


    ¡°This is the part,¡± I said, ¡°where you say something pithy about me being a honey badger and I punch you in the face for it.¡±


    ¡°You said it, not me!¡± the bard winked as she replied. ¡°You see, the difference between a puppy and a honey badger is that-¡±


    ¡°People cheer if you kick the honey badger,¡± I finished. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    The Bard scowled at me as I stole her punchline. But well, a turnaround was only fair now, wasn¡¯t it?


    ¡°Call me Lisa,¡± she replied. ¡°From Brockton Bay,¡± she raised a hand to forestall my question, ¡°don¡¯t ask me where that is. I¡¯m not telling you.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes, then blinked. Was she only here to trade barbs with me? I still had no idea. My mind returned to the first words she¡¯d said when she appeared. I didn¡¯t know who old cogs was. It wasn¡¯t like it was important. But¡­ it sounded almost like she was responding to the thoughts in my head.


    I stiffened.


    ¡°You¡¯re a bard,¡± I began, ¡°Tell me what you think a Novice is?¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t the foggiest,¡± she answered with a forced grin, ¡°but what makes you think that he does either?¡±


    That settled it. This menace was definitely responding to my thoughts. But how? Did her Name give her that degree of insight? Was she actually reading my mi-


    ¡°Your face is just that obvious,¡± she interrupted, tossing the flask at me.


    I caught it and took another pull, before throwing it back to her. She gave me a mocking grin. I didn¡¯t think it was possible to read that much from someone¡¯s expression alone. I considered laying her out for that if I didn¡¯t have the impression that she¡¯d let out a cry. That, or disappear. The smug girl would undoubtedly vanish at just the right moment to make my situation worse. There was a chance that she''d keep quiet ¨D she''d sneaked in after all ¨D but she had enough confidence that I wasn''t prepared to bet on it.


    ¡°You¡¯re a bard,¡± I pressed. ¡°Tell me what a Novice is.¡±


    There was no way a Name about telling stories knew less about stories than the Black Knight. She¡¯d be able to answer my question. I was sure of it. Perhaps she could even give me a way out. A way to avoid losing myself to the shadows.


    ¡°What do you think a hero is?¡± she asked.


    I hadn¡¯t spent much time talking to Lisa. One look at her insufferable face was enough to convince me that she liked showing off how much she knew. This was the most blatant attempt at evasion I¡¯d ever seen. She was avoiding answering my question by asking one of her own. I¡¯d play along for now regardless. It wasn¡¯t like I had anything else to do from inside the cell. Unfortunately, I didn¡¯t have a good answer. Only one hero I¡¯d ever talked to had shared her thoughts about heroism. It wasn¡¯t a hero that I held in high regard, either.


    ¡°Somebody once told me that a hero made messy, complicated choices that you won¡¯t regret later,¡± I paraphrased. ¡°That you don¡¯t need to be the person who solves every problem, so long as the problem is solved.¡±


    How Taylor¡¯s answer still rankled. The lessons I¡¯d received from both the heroes and other administrators had taught me to swallow the first part of that advice. That there wasn¡¯t just an easy answer to Callow¡¯s problems. A blade had been crammed down Mazus¡¯s throat, and our troubles hadn¡¯t gone away. We¡¯d starved even more once he was gone. Now two rebellions had failed, and the third was in trouble.


    ¡°Good answer,¡± the bard nodded, ¡°smart puppy must¡¯ve said that.¡±


    It was the second part of the advice that sounded a mite useless to me.


    ¡°She was the reason Liesse got burned down,¡± I challenged.


    She wasn¡¯t a hero. Not in my mind. Being right about some things didn¡¯t make her right here. Although perhaps she¡¯d been right to run away. The walls of Summerholm burned with us trapped inside, and seven of ten heroes were already dead without the Calamities even lifting a finger. The thought that she might not have been as strong as I thought she was back then was difficult to swallow. How could anyone who could survive that kind of fight not be strong enough to challenge the Calamities?


    ¡°Puppies pee on the floor sometimes,¡± Lisa replied, ¡°at least, until they¡¯ve been properly trained.¡±


    The green-eyed girl threw the flask at me again. I fumbled, almost dropping it. The bard glared as the whiskey sloshed all over the bedding.


    ¡°Is that really what makes someone a hero?¡± I asked before the drink sizzled down my throat.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me?¡± she returned the question.


    I wasn¡¯t about to cry at the altar for answers. As far as I was concerned, the Gods could come down and solve put everything right themselves if they cared. The trouble was that there wasn¡¯t anyone who mattered that was willing to fight on the same side as me.


    ¡°I want to know more about Novices,¡± I raised an eyebrow at her and tossed the flask.


    ¡°Funny thing that,¡± Lisa said in a way that sounded deeply satisfied. ¡°I want to know more about Novices as well.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied, ¡°that answer shed so much light on the mystery that it almost blinded me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have pegged you more as an Heiress than a Novice given what I know,¡± she caught the flask and quaffed it down, ¡°What do you think a Novice does?¡±


    An Heiress? Wasn¡¯t that a Praesi Name? Did I look like I waded neck deep in gore and participated in blood sacrifices? Why did she think I was an Heiress? I matched her emerald eyes with my own, but she remained unperturbed.


    ¡°I was told that-¡±


    ¡°Not what you were told,¡± she interrupted. ¡°What is it that you want?¡±


    I wanted to claim whatever it was that I needed to drag my home out of the mud.


    I wanted my choices to matter more than pissing in the wind.


    I wanted to put my boot to the Tower¡¯s throat.


    Perhaps there was a story that existed where those three things made a Novice, but it wasn¡¯t a tale that I knew.


    ¡°That tells me nothing,¡± I dismissed. ¡°The Black Knight is probably right.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a deft hand with stories,¡± she agreed, ¡°but not that deft.¡± Her eyes narrowed at me. I felt like a mouse being looked at by a hawk. ¡°What makes you think that he knows more about your Name than you do?¡±


    ¡°He knew things he shouldn¡¯t,¡± I explained, ¡°things that not even-¡±


    I stopped talking. My eyes widened. He knew things about me that not even the heroes knew. He¡¯d need the run of the rebellion to know that much. It had to be infiltrated from top to bottom. And if that was true, then it meant that all our efforts banging on the granary door were wasted. He¡¯d sneaked inside and stolen the crop already. The Reluctant Strategist had drilled into me the importance of keeping your secrets from the enemy, and we had none of them at our disposal.


    ¡°You''re making a lot of stupid choices,¡± the bard said, ¡°for somebody who avoided orphanages.¡±


    I shivered as her words drowned me beneath a frozen lake. They echoed those of the Black Knight. Apparently being a bard came with the ability to flap her lips and make me feel uncomfortable. I stabbed that little knot of unease in the cradle and considered what she said. What did he want with me? He¡¯d known enough about me that I was certain he could¡¯ve killed me if he wanted to. I searched his words for a hint. Any sign of what he could possibly want.


    ¡°What story is the Black Knight trying to tell?¡± I asked the green-eyed girl, ¡°What pattern is he trying to set?¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re asking the right questions,¡± she cheered as she replied.


    I waited for a few more moments. Waited with far more patience than she deserved. Wasn¡¯t she going to elaborate? She didn¡¯t. That smug smile was insufferable. I was starting to get the sense that she wanted me to dig up my own answers. Well, what did I know for sure? The walls of Summerholm were burning a lovely shade of green. The Black Knight knew everything about the rebellion, and thus it was doomed to a tragic death. The kind that people would commiserate in taverns about in years to come and not actually do anything about.


    ¡°I need to tell Mabli,¡± I spoke through gritted teeth, ¡°Perhaps she can-¡±


    My voice trailed off and my fingers clenched around the blanket. There was no way that Mabli wouldn¡¯t already know. I¡¯d been around the meticulous old woman too much to believe otherwise. She had the caution stick too far up her rear to have missed any spies. She must have taken leave of her wits for a week and decided to leave them there. Why? What was her game? It didn¡¯t make any sense. Why was she allowing him to win? My shoulders settled.


    ¡°So, what are you going to do?¡± the bard asked.


    First I needed to shake some answers out of the Reluctant Strategist. Then, I needed to figure out what was my next step. I wasn¡¯t sticking around for the dying whimpers of the rebellion if she didn¡¯t have a way to turn it around. I couldn¡¯t go to the heroes because ¡ª ignoring the Reluctant Strategist and the Wandering Bard ¡ª they would sooner lock me in a room. Not that I was willing to ally with Procer anyhow. They were as useless as tits on a bull.


    I could flee to the free cities, but it seemed like a spectacularly bad idea. The Free Cities were embroiled in civil war and weren¡¯t likely to help. I didn¡¯t have the people to replace the Praesi administrators, even if I did drive the Calamities out of Callow. The rebellion had shown that much. There would be no reforming the Kingdom of Callow. The Black Knight had made us reliant on licking the Empire boot for governance.


    Unfortunately, I was short a pocket full of learned scribes. Well, I was short more or less everything else as well. I needed an answer to that. One that didn¡¯t make us the slave of another nation. No, I needed to solve the minor complication of me going mad first.


    That meant I needed to learn about stories.


    ¡°I was told,¡± I examined the girl across from me as I talked, ¡°that it¡¯s a stupid idea to try to fix Callow from inside the Empire.¡±


    ¡°It is a stupid idea,¡± she agreed, ¡°for a hero.¡±


    There was almost a¡­ suggestion to her words. The hint of darkened alleys and demons I could choose to deal with.


    There was a tower no one could claim.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    I hummed for a few moments and thought about what she said. I narrowed my eyes when she picked up her lute and strummed a lilting tune. The bard chuckled. What was so funny?


    ¡°I¡¯m not a hero,¡± I stated.


    ¡°But are you enough of a villain?¡± she said as she took another pull.


    Was I? Could I lick the boot of the man I hated? Would he let me, even if I liked the taste of the leather? I couldn¡¯t think of a good reason that he would allow me to put my own sticky fingers in the system he was establishing. I¡¯d sooner stick a blade in me if I was the Black Knight.


    ¡°I¡¯d be really stupid to try that,¡± I told her.


    ¡°What does the Black Knight want?¡± she asked.


    The wonderful war contributions of the Principate had beaten it into me that Praes wanted food. A small part of my heart bled for starving Praesi citizens, but it wasn¡¯t a part that I cared to examine all that much. A proper neighbour would just buy food from us, but maybe allowances needed to be made for them to be properly Evil. Trade with the Sahelians had shown me that Praes wasn¡¯t just filled with snarling savages armed with pointier sticks. Some of them could even negotiate.


    No, if food was all that he wanted, then there was no reason for the conquest at all. It was clear that his goals were broader than that. Praes always tried to conquer Callow. It was the reforms that made this Black Knight different.


    ¡°He wants for Callow to be a part of Praes,¡± I concluded.


    Ice crawled up my spine.


    Perhaps he could be reasoned with. At least, in the way that one could reason with a hungry lion. He would be happy so long as Callow was a part of Praes. I doubted he would care what changes I made, so long as those changes didn¡¯t throw dirt all over his nice clean carpet. No, there was more to it than that. He wanted Callow to stop being Good. Well, that was fine by me. I¡¯d never been one for hymns. If praying was enough to win the war, then Callow wouldn¡¯t be stuck in the same hole seventeen years later.


    ¡°There¡¯s your answer,¡± she replied.


    Praes had villains that weren¡¯t under his command. I was proof that not all villains were cackling madmen falling to their doom off cliffs. So, there was a chance. The slimmest chance that I could try to gain power in Praes. A chance was better than the empty promises made by the rebellion. No, I wouldn¡¯t throw away the rebellion. Not until I¡¯d talked to the only other hero I knew who had a lick of sense.


    ¡°Can you get me out of here?¡± I inquired, ¡°I need to talk to Mabli.¡±


    ¡°You know what the funny thing about sealing Evil away is?¡± the Bard winked at me.


    ¡°Somebody always frees it?¡± I guessed.


    ¡°Somebody always frees it,¡± she agreed.


    I blinked. The blonde was gone when I opened my eyes. Did the breath she wasted on me even serve any purpose? Did she really ask all of those questions only to bug out? She hadn¡¯t even opened the door for me!


    I think you should flee to the Principate.


    Wait, what? It was vanishingly rare that the voice chose to address me directly, and it opened with something idiotic.


    I was about to reply when I heard a loud rattle from my right. Was it time for slop again? I looked at the heavyset door. There was a click and the door opened. Watery blue eyes and a sunburned face appeared on the other side. Flecks of blood spotted her armour. The golden barrier vanished.


    ¡°Abigail!¡± I exclaimed and ran over to her.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± she hissed and trembled, ¡°Sullivan distracted her and I stole the key, but any minute now she might-¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± Glytha¡¯s voice resonated down the corridor, ¡°I step away for one moment and trouble arrives.¡±


    Abigail yelped, then threw herself past my cell door. I stumbled backwards and let her in.


    ¡°If you lay one hand on her,¡± I threatened, ¡°then you only have yourself to blame.¡±


    The loud clanking of the insufferable hag¡¯s steel boots on stone echoed down the halls. Abigail and I retreated from the threshold.


    ¡°If Abigail wanted to survive,¡± Glytha¡¯s voice resonated down the corridor, ¡°she should¡¯ve stayed away from your cell.¡±


    I tried to pull at the shadows. They whispered sweet promises to me even as they escaped from my grasp. Slithered and slunk away, like they always did. My eyes widened and I tried again. There was a glint in the candlelight, then a ringing. The hulking form of Glytha stepped into the doorway.


    Remember what the Wandering Bard said about prisons and Evil.


    ¡°The cage has already been opened,¡± I licked my lips, ¡°I¡¯m owed my freedom.¡±


    The gloom became more responsive as I spoke. Not that it did much to help me. It took too much effort to make anything more than an inky gravy without bleeding like a dying pig. Then, they answered. I threw a darkened lance at the Stalwart Guardian. There was a flash of light as it fell apart on the edge of her sword. And yet ¡ª despite her fluidity ¡ª she moved like molasses.


    See, look!


    ¡°You¡¯re owed nothing more than an early grave,¡± Glytha spat. ¡°Just like all your victims.¡±


    Abigail stepped in front of me with a blade trembling before her. I seized her shoulder and pulled her behind me again. I wasn¡¯t letting her pull a heroic sacrifice. That was when I noticed it, the glimmer behind Glytha.


    A knife screamed towards her throat.


    Perhaps this would be it? It would be nice for it to be over in just the span of a heartbeat. Her eyes caught something in my own. The Stalwart Guardian spun. A heavy gauntlet grabbed the knife. Her head moved forward and slammed into the figure. There was a brilliant flash. The sword came up and struck against something.


    ¡°I¡¯m already out,¡± I snarled, ¡°and I¡¯m not going back in.¡±


    Another ringing of steel against steel. Then, a sickening crunch. Glytha took a step back into the room. The veiled figure of Sullivan stepped in with her. I placed my hand on top of Abigail¡¯s hand and clawed the blade from her fingers. Sullivan cut high again ¡ª aiming for Glytha¡¯s throat ¡ª only for a mailed fist to strike at the blurred shape of his face. He staggered. I pulled on the shadows and formed a blackened disc. Sickly sweetness rushed through me. Unfortunately, it achieved less than nothing when Glytha spun again and intercepted it with an incandescent sword. The grouchy old hag was proving a mite tough to kill.


    ¡°The breach is only temporary,¡± she dismissed, ¡°much like the staying of your death.¡±


    Glytha slowed once again.


    Sullivan ducked a vicious cut, then reached to a pouch and threw a yellow powder at the Stalwart Guardian¡¯s face. I almost winced in second hand sympathy before I recalled that I wanted her dead. That was nasty stuff. She spun around again. There was a flash. Sullivan stumbled back for a moment. Glytha¡¯s blade arced through the air, then his head tumbled to the ground. Glytha let out a hacking cough. Red clouded my vision. My blade came up and struck against the bloody edge of her own. She pushed against me. I refused to give ground.


    ¡°Was that a heroic sacrifice,¡± I pointed with the blade, ¡°I think that counts as a heroic sacrifice.¡±


    She pulled back her blade and thrust again. It was like watching someone wade through treacle.


    ¡°I do not glory in any of this,¡± she spat, ¡°all that matters is survival.¡±


    I stepped to the side of the mountain of metal. A palm shrouded in a darkened weave met the flat of her sword and forced it to the side. Glytha¡¯s eyes widened. I stepped into her guard.


    No one remembers why she has climbed.


    ¡°Survival is like an empty dream,¡± I hummed. ¡°Only nightmares will set us free.¡±


    Her armour parted like paper before my blade as I rammed it through her heart.


    I took in a deep breath as I stepped away from the falling corpse and looked towards Sullivan. A complicated feeling bubbled up inside me. I felt the faintest twinge of loss. I hadn¡¯t known him, and he¡¯d still thrown his life away for me. He¡¯d actually had a sense of humour. That set him apart from most of the rebels. Those tin heads didn¡¯t laugh even when the joke hit them on the head.


    I swallowed, then blinked away the salt around my eyes.


    Abigail was shaking my arm.


    ¡°-we¡¯re dead, we¡¯re dead, we¡¯re so dead,¡± she muttered to herself, ¡°what are we going to-¡±


    ¡°Abigail,¡± I interrupted, ¡°we can¡¯t stay here.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± she panted. ¡°We need to go somewhere. Where are we going to go?¡±


    ¡°Mabli,¡± I answered. ¡°Do you know where she is?¡±


    No, there was no point to me asking. She¡¯d be in her office. I ignored the muffled squawks of protest as I walked away. Abigail picked up Glytha¡¯s blade and held it before her much like one would hold a venomous snake, before trailing behind me skittishly.


    Servants took one look our way, then decided it would be the better part of valour to be anywhere else. We passed through almost empty corridors. The Comital Palace was deserted. I spared a glance out one of the balconies at the streets down below and stopped. I wasn¡¯t surprised by the green tongues licking the eastern skyline. No, I¡¯d made my peace with that particular omen. It was the crowds of people were gathered near the base of the inner city wall under the light of the moon that surprised me.


    ¡°I take it that we didn¡¯t win while I was imprisoned?¡± I asked. ¡°That isn¡¯t a parade, right?¡±


    Abigail didn¡¯t reply. I turned to her. Her eyes bored holes into the ground and her fingers twitched like a rabbit¡¯s ears. She was muttering under her breath.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry, Abby,¡± I pressed. ¡°Even if it¡¯s only the people of Summerholm throwing the rebellion out.¡±


    ¡°Oh, good,¡± she gulped. ¡°Because it is.¡±


    ¡°Is what?¡± I sighed.


    ¡°A protest,¡± she avoided my eyes.


    Of course, it was. It wasn¡¯t enough that the eastern walls were on fire. No, the people who actually lived in Summerholm had to make their displeasure known as well. It didn¡¯t actually surprise me all that much. Summerholm only had room to garrison four thousand soldiers within the walls. Mabli was not only garrisoning thrice that number, but she was also insisting that people offer housing to refugees as well.


    We picked up our pace, and it wasn¡¯t long before the door to Mabli¡¯s office slammed open. I walked past the Praesi mirror set opposite to her desk and turned towards her.


    My breath caught in my throat.


    Remain calm until you have an explanation.


    She¡¯d turned into even more of a prune in the time since I¡¯d last seen her. With the deep wrinkles on her cheeks and splotches on her face, I¡¯d place her at no less than eighty. Then the other details registered. My nose twitched. What was she doing?


    ¡°Tell me I¡¯m dreaming,¡± my voice shook, ¡°tell me that I¡¯m not seeing this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m toasting to my plan¡¯s success,¡± she explained. ¡°Good evening, Catherine.¡±


    There was a screech as the grip of my blade warped.


    The walls were burning, there were riots on the streets, and she was doing this? The piles of papers that once fought for territorial dominance on Mabli¡¯s desk had been displaced by the frail shape of her legs. Her steel grey eyes met my own as she raised a wineglass and took a sip, then smiled.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I growled.


    ¡°When I first received my Name I thought it was a curse,¡± she explained.


    I took a step around her desk and slammed the blade through the desk beside one of her legs.


    The door slammed shut. Abigail remained outside the room.


    Mabli raised a palm.


    She didn¡¯t even flinch.


    The sheer gall of all of this¡­ this¡­ something, was enough to drive away the crimson flecks dancing at the edge of my eyes with open whips and jeers.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s an absolutely riveting explanation for all this,¡± I gestured. ¡°If I were you, I¡¯d be worrying yourself about if it¡¯s enough to stop me from driving steel through your throat.¡±


    The Reluctant Strategist gave me a hard smile with red stained lips.


    ¡°What is a Reluctant Strategist?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Down a tongue if she doesn¡¯t start talking soon,¡± I threatened.


    ¡°I excelled at one skill. I can predict the worst outcome of a war that could reasonably happen.¡± she paused and took another sip. ¡°Imagine how happy I was when I received an Aspect that did the same thing. Forecast,¡± she let out an ugly laugh, ¡°allows me to live through a future year of my life in which a plan I make plays out, in the timeline where the worst comes to pass.¡±


    My grip slackened as my thoughts raced. She¡¯d lied about what her Aspect did. No, wait. I examined every conversation I¡¯d ever had with her. I examined every word I¡¯d stolen while hiding in the shadows. My eyes widened. I could never remember a time when she¡¯d told anyone what Forecast did. She¡¯d only told us that she could sacrifice a month of her life for answers. I¡¯d marvel at the sheer insolence of it if I wasn¡¯t one of the tens of thousands whose life was on the line because of it.


    ¡°That Aspect doesn¡¯t allow you to do anything near what you pretended it does,¡± I licked my lips.


    She gave a firm nod.


    ¡°There were some differences. Complications I didn¡¯t account for,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°I burned over half my life to determine how to stop that golden, glowing imbecile from making everything worse.¡±


    Oh, she did not just say what I think she did.


    ¡°Wait,¡± I said, ¡°you decided in your infinite wisdom to push away the one hero who went toe to toe with the Warlock?¡±


    ¡°My first major success was when I started planning for other people,¡± she ignored me and continued her monologue. ¡°The Black Knight is a talented strategist with a superior armed force. I¡¯d Forecast his grand strategy. Then I¡¯d Strategize to make that outcome worse. There were problems with that,¡± she sighed. ¡°The future is volatile. Intricate plans never work, so I¡¯d needed to aim for broader goals.¡±


    ¡°Why this,¡± I pressed steel against her throat. ¡°I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but even I can find better ways to make them bleed.¡±


    ¡°Assassin¡¯s been a part of the rebellion for a long time. Between him, the Scribe, the Eyes of the Empire and other infiltrators,¡± Mabli paused, ¡°it was a delicate balance just to remain alive. I soon realized that we¡¯d never win this fight,¡± she reached around the blade and took another gulp of wine, then spat. ¡°It was rigged against us from the start.¡±


    ¡°So you did nothing,¡± I concluded, ¡°you threw the fight for what? Shits and giggles?¡±


    ¡°Come now, Catherine,¡± she chided. ¡°You¡¯ve been learning economics.¡±


    ¡°That,¡± blood welled as I pressed in my blade, ¡°has nothing to do with this.¡±


    ¡°But it has everything to do with this,¡± she smiled at me. ¡°Don¡¯t think of the examples you were taught with,¡± Mabli dismissed, ¡°think of all the Mercantis coin that¡¯s being poured into Callow.¡±


    My mind spun as I closed my eyes. Callow hadn¡¯t been able to mint its own coin ever since the conquest. Our nation¡¯s economy was reliant on the Empire to regulate our coinage. Mabli had been spending Mercantis coin like water. The price of goods had risen as a consequence and¡­ My eyes widened. It would take decades ¡ª if not centuries ¡ª to mend this.


    This is horrifying. All those people, dead. Why would she even do this?


    ¡°Considering a scheme like this,¡± I whispered, ¡°you would think that I¡¯m the hero in the room.¡±


    My will teetered on the precipice. I trembled. Not from fear, but because of my crumbling restraint. Shadows whispered beneath my lips. Why shouldn¡¯t I end her life? It was obvious in hindsight, and I shouldn¡¯t have missed it. I was prepared to give myself a pass on account of the fact that I¡¯d assumed my closest allies weren¡¯t trying to kill their own people through elaborate schemes. Was this what the Black Knight and the Bard had meant when they¡¯d told me I had blinders over my eyes?


    ¡°The Black Knight would have waited another year before attacking,¡± Mabli said. ¡°The people of Callow would be happy by then to return to the Empire¡¯s fold. They would ask Praes to get rid of the heroes.¡±


    ¡°So you forced them to attack early by ruining us,¡± I surmised. ¡°Isn¡¯t it convenient when other people starve to support your war against the empire?¡±


    ¡°Coin from the Ravel Bank is Fae currency,¡± Mabli explained. ¡°What happens when it disappears?¡±


    ¡°And I thought the Faithful Warrior was the real monster,¡± my blade pressed harder against her skin.


    ¡°The Faithful Warrior''s plan would fail,¡± Mabli shrugged. ¡°Otherwise, I would¡¯ve used it.¡±


    ¡°The people of Callow will thank me for this one day,¡± I whispered.


    A moment¡¯s fury and my hand slipped. My blade carved its way across her throat.


    ¡°You will make a marvell-¡± Mabli¡¯s last gargled words faded away.


    I¡¯m sorry, Catherine.


    The light in her eyes dimmed.


    My arm trembled, and my breath caught in my throat. Why this? Why all this waste? I¡¯d trusted her. We¡¯d all trusted her. She was the hero who was cautious. The one who was supposed to know better. The one who was one step ahead of the Calamities, and then she¡¯d thrown the fight on purpose. Thrown it in the worst way possible on the vague hope that the harm she did to her own people would seed even more conflict in the future.


    Clapping.


    Somebody was clapping.


    Disgust welled in my stomach as I turned towards the mirror.


    ¡°You know,¡± I mused as I looked up and met the speaker¡¯s golden eyes, ¡°somehow it didn¡¯t occur to me that this thing might be active.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t the first time that I¡¯d seen the strikingly beautiful Soninke girl who lounged on an extravagent green velvet chair in the reflection. That didn¡¯t make her any less stunning to look at. She was perhaps a year or two older than me, but her skin was smooth and flawless. She had high aristocratic cheekbones, elegantly styled eyebrows and wore a red and gold skirt perfectly tailored to fit an hourglass figure that I could only envy.


    Think with your head, Catherine.


    ¡°Catherine Foundling,¡± the dark-skinned girl spoke amiably, ¡°it was past time that we met properly.¡±


    I already had a hint of how dangerous she was. I needed to keep my cool.


    ¡°Akua Sahelian,¡± I replied, ¡°I¡¯m a little busy at the moment.¡±


    Considering who I always saw her seated beside, it wasn¡¯t hard for me to guess who she was.


    ¡°It was hard not to notice that, my dear,¡± she chuckled, ¡°I assure you that it¡¯s worth your while to lend me one of your ears.¡±


    ¡°Speak,¡± I demanded.


    There was a brief flicker of emotion across her pretty mask.


    ¡°Summerholm will fall soon,¡± she consoled, ¡°and your rebellion ends with it. The Black Knight,¡± she spoke the words with distaste, ¡°has little use for a villain like you. He would much rather tie up loose ends.¡±


    So, this was the part where she tried to sell me on joining her rising band of murderers. The idea was almost laughable. Sure, I was willing to cross a few lines to save my own people, but that didn¡¯t make me anything like her. I didn¡¯t summon devils or demons, nor did I approve of slavery, and I certainly didn¡¯t bathe in the blood of virgins. That said, I¡¯d leave telling her of my opinion on blood sacrifice for after I¡¯d heard her offer.


    ¡°This is naturally where you make your offer,¡± I commented.


    ¡°Naturally,¡± Akua¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°You want to rule Callow,¡± she explained, ¡°that does not concern me in the slightest so long as you do so from beneath me.¡±


    From beneath her? How much land was she planning to conquer? It sounded like she¡¯d been touched by just a smidgeon of the famed Praesi megalomania. All things considered, it was sad that I was saner. She shouldn¡¯t be madder than the girl who heard voices in her head.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t?¡± I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°All I care for is that you oppose the Black Knight,¡± she confirmed, ¡°everything else is dust.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re expecting me to walk all the way to the wasteland¡­¡± I trailed off.


    ¡°One of the proxy ships is only a day¡¯s journey upstream,¡± she smiled. ¡°I trust that when the time comes you will make the intelligent decision.¡±


    The mirror shimmered.


    The smiling face of Akua Sahelian disappeared.


    Or all those she must have left behind.


    I hummed and stalked from one end of the room to the other while I thought over what to do. What I needed was power. The ability to make change. I¡¯d never really had it inside the rebellion. I¡¯d always been kept on a tight leash like a rabid dog. Every hero I¡¯d met so far had disappointed me. The villains were winning by such a wide margin that even the idea of choosing to switch sides was laughable.


    Seek refuge in Procer.


    I ignored the ill-considered advice. It wasn''t like the Principate would have any tolerance for me.


    The beginnings of a plan seeded itself in my mind.


    The first step was to bind my own demons. To overcome that little problem of blood thirst that consumed me whenever I tried to use the shadows.


    For that, I¡¯d bet that I needed to know more about stories.


    The Black Knight knew at least a little about stories. He would be dead if he didn¡¯t. Unfortunately, talking to him seemed like a fast trip to the grave. The trouble was my other option seemed even more dangerous. There was no doubt in my mind that the Sahelians could help me overcome my darker impulses. The only trouble was, I¡¯d bet they do that by convincing me it was a good idea to embrace them.


    So you¡¯re deciding between one small step off the Evil cliff or jumping all the way?


    It wasn¡¯t like there were better options available to me. Besides, I couldn¡¯t afford to hesitate at the first step. Not if I wanted to salvage the mess that Mabli had made of Callow. She¡¯d made us reliant on another nation to save our own economy. We couldn¡¯t afford to get rid of the Ravel Bank¡¯s coin on our own. It would take the influence of either Procer or Praes to save us. I wasn¡¯t feeling particularly charitable towards the Principate, which left me with only one choice.


    A choice that loomed on the horizon.


    If Callow would never be rid of Praes, then it was time for us to have our say in how the Empire was run.


    One day, in the distant future, I was going to climb the Tower.


    I thought about my two paths for a few more moments.


    I thought about the choice between the Akua Sahelian and the Black Knight.


    The first I knew would betray me as soon as it was convenient. The other¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure would even allow me to live at all.


    I gave the matter one last thought.


    Then, I made a choice.

 Perdition 6.0x

    ¡°One who fears to be stripped of the gift of the Gods has, by their own hand, become nothing more than a servant to them.¡±


    ¡ª Translation of the Kabbalis Book of Darkness, widely attributed to the young Dead King


    <hr>


    In the depths of a Hell that had long lost its name and number, a monster opened his eyes.


    Change, the world whispered.


    Change had arrived.


    Pale hands relaxed around an oak balcony railing as Neshamah Be-Iakim felt the moment Creation shifted. It was as if the hands of a master artisan had threaded a needle and stitched a new tapestry atop the old. Stitches woven so seamlessly that one could not discern where the old masterpiece ended and the new began. Then the alteration rippled forward. It passed through the gates of the Writhing Palace and into the depths of his hell.


    He wondered for a moment if his patience had at last paid dividends. If the Last Dusk had dawned and the final hours of Creation had come. Then, he dismissed the idle fantasy as he turned the full weight of his attention towards observing the phenomenon.


    Touch, taste, smell. Senses once stifled filled in much like liquid metal poured into a mould. The King of Death had done his utmost to replicate the trappings of life through artistry and artifice, but even his legacy fell short of the work of the Gods. The Dead King drew an unneeded breath and tasted the fruits of their labour.


    His Serenity, once lesser than creation, was diminished no longer.


    Dark bushy eyebrows narrowed.


    The King of Death had prepared for much over the many aeons that had passed since the dawn of his ascendancy. While this series of events was unanticipated, it did not fall outside the scope of his many contingencies. It was long before the first of those who would contest his Reign, and yet he could already sense the shape of the conflict to come.


    Light brown eyes roamed across fields of gold. They passed over paved roads, bubbling brooks and miles of scenic forestry. Neshamah cast one last forlorn look upon the fruits of his labour.


    The King of Death blinked.


    Visions of barren fields shimmered beneath his lids.


    Lands that had been carefully tended would soon fall to the ravenous maw of time.


    There was a sense of poetry in it.


    The Death of his Serenity would not come at the call of a crusader¡¯s horn. It would not follow from the baying of hounds, or the summoning of angels, or even from the devils or demons of Praes.


    No, Neshamah thought, Serenity would fall to no hand but his own.


    <hr>


    It had been long since Neshamah had last performed a ritual working personally.


    The Hidden Horror had come to understand that all actions had an import to them through both time and the many lessons taught to him by his old friend. Sorcery was best channelled through others, save for when it mattered most. Conflict was to be avoided, except for when it could not be. All action held weight when it was assigned meaning, but there could only be so much significance when worth was given to everything. It was the paradox of Creation, that the less one performed, the more power one had when they took to the stage.


    The King of Death knelt as he inscribed chalk lines against the stone. The many bands of gneiss felt rough beneath his shrivelled fingers. Transformation, continuity, the essence of life. It wasn¡¯t long before his deft hands filled in the last of the lines. He spared the inner calculations a brief glance, before turning aside. He was satisfied with his work. His elegant brown robes spilled to the ground as he rose and took two careful steps past the circular indent in the ground. There ¡ª within the outer circle ¡ª his labour continued. The limestone took easier to his careful ministrations. Purity, simplicity, the essence of the Garden. There, his work concluded.


    Neshamah cast his gaze across the ritual one last time for errors before he stepped beyond the outer threshold. Four candles flickered at each cardinal of the ritual circle. He raised a palm and began to chant in a sonorous voice. Blood flowed along the grooves in the rock. Flowed, then accumulated. Neshamah¡¯s voice rose. His skeletal fingers clenched. His voice cut off.


    The stone within the ritual circle darkened to a midnight black. Lights sparkled in the inky pool. A dense fog congealed above the circle, only for an imp to materialize. The Dead King chanted a quick phrase and the creature imploded. Infernal ichor dripped onto the surface below. A few moments later and there was a ripple ¡ª much like a lake at the touch of a rock ¡ª then shapes carved themselves upon the shadowed veil. The Chain of Hunger, the Principate of Procer, Keter, the Kingdom of Callow, Ashur, Levant, and even the Empire of Praes. A map of Calernia painted against the rock in red.


    The King of Death leaned down and examined the residue from his spell.


    It was as much as he had already surmised. The disturbance in the fallen Titan¡¯s City of Mirrors had done more than just upset the balance of Creation. The potential for the crown of a new Fae Court to manifest had been seeded somewhere in Callow. The crown did not exist yet ¡ª but it might ¡ª should the right events come to pass. The King of Death was too distant from the epicentre for a more accurate measurement.


    However, time had granted him a knack for stories that made the source of the resonance trivial to guess. It was the Aspirant who had turned Creation on its head. Her story had been birthed in the city of Liesse. It was there that the crown would one day be summoned forth. The corners of the King of Death¡¯s bloodless lips turned upwards at the thought of the trouble that would come of it. Wars would be fought among his enemies, and he would not even need to lift a finger. It was the work of a few more moments to dispel the incantation before Neshamah turned away from the empty circle.


    A few short steps saw him outside the laboratory and onto a balcony overlooking what remained of his Serenity.


    Farmlands grew wild, houses fell apart with disuse. A land which had once been idyllic buckled under the callous touch of entropy. A part of Neshamah had been tempted to have undead servants cultivate the Serenity ¡ª to maintain the pale imitation that he had crafted ¡ª however, the King of Death had been quick to set that sentiment aside.


    It had been months since those living within his Serenity had been called to join his host.


    It would be long before the life which had been bestowed upon his hell breathed its last.


    The old monster would wait out those centuries. He would wait until the last echoes of Creation had drained out of his Serenity before his work was renewed. Much had changed in the years since he had first claimed the hell. His methods had been refined. What had taken millennia to achieve once would instead be whittled down to the span of a few careful centuries. It would be weaker in its return. It was unfortunate that a story was never so strong as when it is first told. The King of Death had deemed it too dangerous to risk allowing new tales to find purchase in his domain.


    The present shape of Serenity was not his only loss to this unexpected turn of events.


    Both the Mantle and the Drake had failed to slip their bonds once again. The King of Death had decided this time that it was wiser to lay them to rest. His old friend was dangerous enough without him handing her the knife to press against his heart. He would not chance his own demise to the depredations of new and novel stories. The remnant of the Drakon which slumbered in his realm presented another complication that Neshamah had yet to resolve.


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    A stillness had fallen over the Kingdom of the Dead. Neshamah had halted all raids into the Lycaonese lands. Now only scouts ventured south. He had decided to watch and observe until new patterns could be discerned. It is almost as if the Gods have abandoned an old game in favour of a new one, the King of Death thought. There was no predicting what patterns he might fall prey to should he play the new game without first learning the rules.


    It was fortunate then that the burden of new stories had weighed his enemies down more than they had weighed down him.


    His scouts had brought word from neighbouring lands. News of chaos stretching across from one side of Calernia to the other. The first whispers had held the most promise. It had taken many attempts for a revenant to successfully thread the gloom of the Everdark and then journey past the Dwarven encirclement, but much had been learned.


    Discord scoured the Kingdom Under the Mountain.


    What had appeared to be the first seeds of a fourteenth expansion had withered and died at the stem. The War with the now fallen Empire Ever Dark in the north-east of their territory had intensified, only the tides had now turned. It had come as a surprise to the King of Death that it appeared the weight of new stories favoured the Drow. Machines that once cut down the Drow with ruthless efficiency now found themselves torn apart. The Drow had found renewed purpose in their sudden windfall and had turned the offensive back on their once unbeaten foes.


    Fire spirits ¡ª once bound tight by Dwarven sorcery ¡ª had broken from their fetters and brought chaos to the Kingdom Under. The King Under the Mountain had been struck down by one of his own people in an act of treachery that many were appalled by. Civil war had spread from one side of their empire to the other as many tried to lay claim to the now empty throne.


    A turn of fate that not even Neshamah could have anticipated had come from deep within the heart of the Kingdom Under. A dwarven sorcerer had collected pages of the Kabbalis Book of Darkness and toiled away at his own attempt at apotheosis. It was a masterpiece of artifice engineered by an expert who was seemingly unaware of the dangers that lay within the pages that he consumed.


    Neshamah¡¯s scouts had failed to uncover what occurred within the land of the elves. The result left him unsurprised. The Forever King had a history of executing any who stepped into the shelter of the Golden Bloom. Even in the face of what the King of Death was quickly coming to consider the Age of Chaos, the veil of secrecy the elves shrouded themselves with had yet to fade away.


    There had been a brief rise in conflict along the border shared with the Chain of Hunger before the more typical seasonal violence had resumed. Not that Neshamah expected to learn anything from behavioural changes in that damned species. There was no land more accursed than those to the west of Keter.


    Despite the Principate of Procer holding much less hard power, the matters which occurred there were arguably of far greater import. Procer had eaten its own tail for close to two decades. The King of Death had expected them to fall apart at the seams. Failing that, he expected them to lick their wounds after the civil war and eventually call a crusade against the east in the years to come. Neshamah had observed events within the principate with interest for some time. There had been a slim chance that circumstances would unfold in a manner that presented him with an opportunity.


    It had appeared at first as if the nation of Procer would dissolve in the aftermath of the now infamous political debate. Four of the southern Principalities had threatened to secede from Procer and another two had become consumed by internal succession wars. The King of Death would¡¯ve celebrated the fall of his southern neighbour, but was unsurprised when the Principate claws its way back from the brink. Cordelia Hasenbach had ridden south to negotiate a resolution, only for her journey to have proven without merit.


    A damaged fleet of refugee ships from Yan Tei had docked on the shores near Vaccei.


    Neshamah had puzzled over the arrival of the Yan Tei for some time before a revenant overheard a boast spoken in hushed tones from one refugee to another. They had whispered of the Emperor having perished while striking down a Gnomish sky ship. It appeared that the Yan Tei were content to suffer under their yoke no longer. The King of Death would applaud their temerity if he believed it would amount to anything more than the same futility of every other nation who had attempted the same.


    Those aboard had marched swiftly on the city and seized the walls. The Dominion of Levant had made two separate attempts to recapture their city, only to be rebuffed brutally on both occasions. Many dispossessed Levantine citizens had fled Vaccei across the boarder to the Principate.


    The southern Principalities had been quick to cease threatening to secede from Procer once it became evident how much of a threat their new southern neighbours posed. The new selection of Princes had all banded together behind Cordelia in the face of the new potential adversary. Diplomatic overtures were now being attempted by powers on either side of Vaccei. Both negotiations between the Principate and the Yan Tei refugees, as well as negotiations between the refugees and the Dominion of Levant.


    It had therefore come as an unsettling surprise when the Principate of Procer had proceeded to capitalize on the winds of fortune that had blown their way with an alacrity rivalled only by his own. There had been a brief period of strife where heroes and villains had risen up before a new order had crystallized. The Principate¡¯s newest rising hero had seen to the organization of heroes. There had been some resistance, but soon even that resistance was quelled.


    Neshamah tapped the balcony railing and frowned once again at what the hero had done.


    Heroes and villains within the Principate were required to put everything about their lives to the page. Who they were, when and where they were born, what injustice they sought to right, who they had come into conflict with, or even what masterpieces they wished to produce. Those details were then added to House of Light records, which were then made available to any hero who wished to further their own understanding of Namelore.


    Heroes were organized into groups of varying sizes according to mutual compatibility. Some were sent out into the wilds in the traditional bands of five. Some were sent out in groups of three. Lovers were assigned duties in pairs, and those with Names that encouraged solitude were expected to mediate disputes on their own. Heroes were never organized into groups of four, and the Aspirant had insisted that heroes fill in forms justifying their reasoning if they wanted to organize an alliance of chosen that numbered more than five.


    She had faced resistance to her attempt to bring order to the organization of heroes at first. Some heroes had ignored her claims to authority. Those complaints had died a swift death with every success that accumulated under her belt. Her Name was rapidly transforming into one spoken of with the same degree of reverence usually afforded to a White Knight.


    That was not even taking into consideration the new approach that she had insisted on taking towards the resolution of Named conflict within the Principate. Each time a new villain was encountered, they were categorized similarly to heroes. Their weaknesses were then assessed. Scribes were employed to sift through all the accumulated information and speculate on which narratives villains would be weak to.


    One of the scribes had even earned a Name related to the task.


    When a new hero or villain was first encountered within the Principate, they were approached by either a hero or members of the armed force under the command of Klaus Papenheim. Any Named individuals that proved benign were guided towards the House of Light. Those who reacted with hostility were either captured or killed, depending on the degree of threat that they posed. Villains who were deemed to be redeemable were assigned permanent mentors from those who were willing to fill the Role.


    So far only two had taken the offer.


    The effort that the Aspirant was undertaking to strip the magic and mystery surrounding Names away impressed Neshamah. She approached the subject of Names with the same degree of rigour that he had once done many millennia ago. The trouble was that she didn¡¯t sit on the same side of the table as he did. Instead, he observed as one press of the quill at a time his foes accumulated a wealth of knowledge which one day he would need to oppose.


    Neshamah had not seen anything near as absurd in all the many years since his ascendancy. That those carrion crawlers Above would cheat the game this way was enough to draw forth his irritation. The greatest danger posed by her gambit lay in that there was a chance that she established herself as an arbiter of either Names or stories.


    It wouldn¡¯t be the first time that either a hero or a villain had attempted to claim such a position of authority. However, it would be the first time that Neshamah would consider the ambition to have any chance of success at all. There simply were not enough people with Names at most times for such a gambit to succeed. The temporary addition of new stories into the existing pool had created the perfect opportunity for somebody to do so.


    The King of Death had intuited that new stories did not hold the same weight as older ones by observing how they played out across Calernia. Old heroes would face new villains, and the conflict would ¡ª barring exceptions ¡ª skew heavily in the favour of the old. The same was true when old villains came into conflict with new heroes.


    This was promising in that it suggested that with time they would fade away, however, it was not the only outcome that was possible. Some of the new stories that appeared might accumulate sufficient weight through conflict to become not only permanent ¡ª but also major ¡ª fixtures in the warp and weft of Creation. While that meant that there were opportunities aplenty for new villains, what was far more likely was the banding together of many new heroes.


    The old paradox first acknowledged by Irritant also remained a fixture in an altered form. The Aspirant had diluted the potency of Names by making them more present.


    There was also a less obvious truth that lay below the surface.


    Many smaller stories added together were able to accumulate a different kind of weight. The stories that did survive the coming culling would have a presence to them that made them almost impossible to remove.


    Neshamah would¡¯ve seen this as an opportunity in his younger years. A chance to make a play for greater power. Accumulated defeats at the hand of his old friend had taught him how far one could reach into the fire before losing a hand to the flames. No, he would not step outside the safety of his walls any time soon. He would do what he had done in the passing years instead.


    The King of Death would wait.


    Opportunity ¡ª after all ¡ª was ever eager to come knocking at his gates.

 Elysium 7.00

    ¡°There is an ugly truth about life as a diplomat. Your greatest duty on foreign soil is to maintain the illusion that you¡¯re not already planning your next betrayal.¡±


    ¡ª Prokopia Lakene, first and only Hierarch of the Free Cities


    <hr>


    The late afternoon sun beat down upon the two of us. I rolled my shoulders and circled around the flaxen haired man at a distance, examining him for an opening. He wore a green shirt with gold lace ¡ª with the sleeves rolled up exposing his muscled arms and the top button undone ¡ª and white woollen trousers. A light sheen coated his brow. His eyes were just as tightly focused as my own. I tensed as there was a subtle shift in Prince Frederic¡¯s stance. There was a muted clash as the blunted edge of his blade struck my own.


    ¡°So,¡± Prince Frederic said as he stepped backwards, ¡°tell me what¡¯s gnawing away at your thoughts.¡±


    The two of us sparred on an open arena. I spared a glance for the white sand floor. It was almost flat ¡ª except for a few obstacles ¡ª rocks that had been placed to keep the competitors on their toes. I had no intention of eating dirt during this fight. There was a light scuff in the sand as I stepped forwards. I waited for a moment ¡ª allowing his attention to return to the fight ¡ª before aiming a series of three aggressive strikes at him.


    ¡°Is it that obvious?¡± I replied.


    I grimaced as my friend parried the third strike and landed a touch on my arm. It would have been easy for me to avoid it. I could have transmuted my arm to Light for a moment, or I could¡¯ve stopped playing by human constraints and either overwhelmed him with brute force, or moved too fast for him to follow what I was doing. I wouldn¡¯t do any of that.


    ¡°Point!¡± he exclaimed, giving me an attractive grin. ¡°You¡¯re tense,¡± he continued, ¡°others might not notice it, but we¡¯ve been arranging our hour-long spars twice a week for half a year now.¡±


    Both of us halted for a moment and reset our stances.


    The next bout started off with a misstep on Frederic¡¯s part. A cloud of dust billowed forth and obscured him as he tripped over a loose stone, sending him tumbling to the dirt. An attendant would have stepped in had this been the early days when the two of us had first started sparring together. He¡¯d evicted both them and his guards after the second week of our meetings.


    ¡°It¡¯s the other heroes again,¡± I conceded.


    I reached down and pulled him to his feet. He muttered a few words of thanks in reply. I wouldn¡¯t take advantage of an opening like that. Not because I didn¡¯t see it, but¡­ because it would break the rules. I¡¯d taken up duelling as a sport on Prince Frederic¡¯s advice, and I was treating the rules as seriously as I could.


    ¡°They are still stirring the waters?¡± he inquired as he brought his blade into the guard position and the spar commenced once more.


    Both of us started to circle once again. I studied his eyes. Prince Frederic tensed, then feinted. I took a step to my right and evaded the blow.


    My decision to treat duelling as a hobby didn¡¯t mean that I wasn¡¯t competitive about it ¡ª I¡¯d managed to earn my fourth sun only a fortnight past ¡ª but it did mean that I was playing by all the guiding principles of it. Both the spoken and the unspoken rules. I had more than enough ways to kill people without turning to the games I entertained myself with. I didn¡¯t want to sour the last bastion of my sanity for myself. Prince Frederic had made it clear that he wouldn¡¯t mind if I cheated a little ¡ª I¡¯d caught the implication that he might even approve of it ¡ª then he¡¯d grumbled when I¡¯d chosen not to.


    ¡°Every day,¡± I complained, ¡°there is another hero that needs to see me personally.¡± I feinted forward, then aimed another strike at his upper arm. ¡°They¡¯re apparently too important to raise their issues with anyone else.¡± Frederic blocked my strike, then performed a complicated twist that ended with him tapping lightly against my fingers. ¡°Point,¡± I acknowledged.


    ¡°Third strike and match,¡± he said, smiling at me and extending a hand.


    I spared him a mock glare for a few moments before smiling and shaking it.


    ¡°Still not good enough,¡± I grumbled, ¡°haven¡¯t won a round yet.¡±


    Both of us walked towards a bench at the side of the arena and rested our swords. He sat down and lifted a silver pitcher of water on the accompanying ash side-table with grace and poured a glass of water, then extended it towards me. I took it the proffered gift and muttered a thanks, then sat down beside him while he poured himself a drink.


    ¡°It is remarkable how fast you learn,¡± he countered, ¡°considering how little time you spare for yourself.¡±


    Frederic took a towel from beside him on the bench and dabbed the sweat off his brow. He¡¯d given up on offering me those after the fourth time I¡¯d refused. I reached back and untied my hair, allowing it to spill over my shoulders.


    ¡°It¡¯s always ¡®Taylor, why can¡¯t I poison the whole town and then withhold the antidote until the villain surrenders,¡¯¡± I affected a high-pitched, whiney voice as I continued to rant, ¡°or ¡®Taylor, why can¡¯t I use half the church budget for my personal project.¡± I paused and took a sip of the water.


    The trouble wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t have capable people I could delegate it to. No, I had those in spades. The real problem was that at least half the heroes I¡¯d met were stubborn, hard-headed, unrelenting, well-meaning people who flat our refused to listen to the authority of anyone except the person at the top. It didn¡¯t matter if I had skilled people who could do the job if heroes wouldn¡¯t listen to them. It wasn¡¯t true for every hero. Every day there were less of them making themselves my personal concern. Unfortunately, I suspected that I¡¯d need to wait until the current generation were all dead before the cultural expectation went away.


    ¡°Were there more or less challenges for the leadership of the chosen this week?¡± Prince Frederic¡¯s lips twitched as he replied.


    He must¡¯ve heard this rant or one just like it from me by this point at a dozen times. I winced in sympathy. He had his own issues in Brus. I¡¯d taken to offering him an ear whenever he wanted to complain about them. Prince Frederic had refrained from grumbling about his angry bag of cats at first, but¡­ it hadn¡¯t taken me long to wear away at that particular foible of his. Granted, he was still much more polite when he lamented about the baby dragons that he had to herd in his lair than I was.


    ¡°Still only one this month,¡± I admitted. ¡°Still want to bash some sense into the rest of them.¡±


    It was bad enough that I¡¯d started praying for smarter heroes. Not all of them lacked political acumen, but most did. A pattern had begun to emerge among the new chosen. One that didn¡¯t surprise me at all. Those who suffered injustices were more likely to become heroes than those who did not. There were more peasants than nobles. Few among the nobility truly suffered to the extent of the peasantry. Putting both facts together, and, well¡­ most of the new heroes weren¡¯t the brightest stars in the sky. I didn¡¯t blame them for that, but I wished they would make fewer problems for me.


    ¡°Should it come to pass that all the advisors who recommend I rebel against the First Prince were to find themselves sharing lunch with you one day-¡±


    There weren¡¯t only negatives. My reforms were working. Some heroes had tried remaining separate from the House of Light at first. They had folded after the first six months had passed and incorporated themselves into my system. In part because of the pressure to do so. The law required them to do so and although the systems to enforce that law were still being established, it had been obvious that with time it would be enforced.


    ¡°I¡¯m not beating up your political advisors,¡± I interrupted, then scowled as he laughed. ¡°Sometimes I wish I had twenty-four Cordelia Hasenbachs under me to foist on everyone who thinks they''re too good to talk to anyone without a Name.¡± I furrowed my brow for a moment, ¡°wouldn¡¯t turn my nose at a few of her cousin either.¡±


    However, it was not the only reason that heroes submitted. Those that were under my authority prevailed more often than those who were not. Not only that, but they frequently succeeded in ways that people were happier with than before. I¡¯d heard rumours that in some towns, heroes weren¡¯t welcome unless they could prove they were a part of the House of Light. That was a complication of another kind, but I was glad that my plan was working.


    ¡°The Principate of Procer couldn¡¯t survive that much of our esteemed First Prince in one place,¡± Prince Frederic replied with a serene expression on his face.


    There was a difference in the successes between those who were a part of the House of Light and those who weren¡¯t. It was one that was so stark that stories were beginning to be told about it. That ¡ª in turn ¡ª had resulted in the victories becoming even more pronounced. People were starting to call it the golden age of heroics in the Principate.


    ¡°No,¡± I agreed, ¡°but with one for every principality¡­¡± I trailed off.


    Heroes won here. They won fast ¡ª with minimal collateral damage ¡ª and details of their opponents were recorded for others to take advantage of. Villains faced trials when they could, and death was only the penalty when it would be the penalty by law. It disappointed me how few villains were willing to try for redemption. However, the degree of my success was enough to make me consider the merits of Songbird¡¯s Dream. I¡¯d thought the Dream too ambitious ¡ª too far-fetched ¡ª but perhaps it did have a chance to succeed after all.


    ¡°They would have the strength your otherwise capable but not strong enough willed subordinates lack,¡± Prince Frederic finished.


    The first few trials had been ugly. Peasants had been quick to petition for investigations against their least favourite rulers. I spent most of my time during the first four months just being called on to adjudicate matters involving important nobles after the resolution had passed. Fortunately, the witch hunting had more or less ended by now. Another trouble had reared its ugly head in the aftermath. The heroes. There had been a few heroes who looked downright miserable when they were told they weren¡¯t permitted to steal from others for their quests. No, there was no such thing as the right of divine repossession. The House of Light could accommodate their needs, they didn¡¯t need to take from others.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed.


    A few nobles had tried to bribe heroes into ruling in their favour, and¡­ that hadn¡¯t ended well for the nobles. I was expecting that sooner or later there would be a major challenge to the rules I¡¯d established. That challenge hadn¡¯t happened yet ¡ª it was still the early days ¡ª but I expected the first hurdle to occur soon. A recent conversation I¡¯d had with the First Prince hinted at troubles to come. Very little of my time was spent apprehending villains. Most of it was spent leading the House of Light.


    ¡°How proceeds your writing?¡± Frederic inquired.


    My other projects were in their early days but were proving far more successful overall. Once I¡¯d finally acknowledged to myself that I wasn¡¯t suited to managing the minutiae and left reimagining my reforms to the right people, they¡¯d started to show promise.


    ¡°Faces of Virtue?¡± I checked. He nodded, so I continued. ¡°I¡¯ve finished my part of it. Need to find chosen of other choirs to continue.¡±


    I¡¯d spent enough time in the presence of Angels to realize that they could change, and that with time they did change. Faces of Virtue was my attempt to¡­ document what they were like at the present moment. I¡¯d recorded everything I¡¯d felt about Compassion. There were rumours of a White Knight sworn to Judgement in the Titanomachy, but I wasn¡¯t about to wander over their border and check for myself.


    ¡°Is there something else that is remiss?¡± the blonde asked. ¡°There is a tightness to your shoulders.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± I stated.


    ¡°The First Prince called upon you to assist in negotiations with Yan Tei?¡± he furrowed his brow.


    It would¡¯ve been an excellent guess if I hadn¡¯t talked to him about this already. The kind of supposition I¡¯d have made without further context. The Yan Tei arriving off the coast of Levant and seizing the city nearest to the Red Snake Wall had taken everyone by surprise. Cordelia had been forced to reinforce the southern borders against foreign incursion and had been locked in tense negotiations with our visitors from across the sea ever since.


    ¡°Not that,¡± I denied. ¡°Didn¡¯t you listen when we last talked,¡± I gave him a mock glare. ¡°The Fae problem.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Cordelia Hasenbach¡¯s warnings to our neighbours not to use Ravel Bank coin had fallen on deaf ears. The money that they had been pouring into Callow and Helike was starting to become a problem for Procer. Most of the Free Cities had enough sense not to use the poisoned coin. This common sense didn¡¯t ¡ª it appeared ¡ª extend to Helike. While the Principate was the largest surface nation on Calernia and could supply most of its own goods and services without external trade, it wasn¡¯t able to divest itself of foreign markets entirely. It didn¡¯t matter if Procer refused to barter with Fae money if its neighbours were reliant on it. They wouldn¡¯t trade with us if we refused their currency.


    ¡°Then you intend to journey through Constance¡¯s Scar into Arcadia?¡± the handsome man inquired.


    Constance¡¯s Scar had been contained with an admirable degree of swiftness. Cordelia had passed a motion to build a wall around the crater. The phantom raids launched by the Fae were troubling major trade routes in the area, and none of the Princes were prepared to allow the wound to fester. The First Prince had staffed the wall with wizards from her new Order of the Red Lion. She had established the headquarters of the Order in Salia itself, but a secondary outpost was built just outside the crater to contain the Fae incursions.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be gone for a while,¡± I told him. ¡°Don¡¯t know how long.¡±


    It would be a trial of the system I¡¯d established within the Principate. An opportunity to see how well it held up when I was not at the helm. Esme would remain behind and be responsible for most of my duties while I was away. She¡¯d shown a lot of promise over the year and hadn¡¯t tested any of the boundaries I¡¯d set, so I was willing to extend her this much trust. There were also other heroes who were willing to work with her now. I¡¯d have preferred if I¡¯d had more time before it was tested but¡­ I¡¯d already admitted to myself that there would never come a time when I didn¡¯t feel that way.


    ¡°Do you believe the House of Light can survive your absence?¡± Prince Frederic pressed.


    Yvette, Roland and I would be heading into Arcadia. I¡¯d have liked for Songbird to come along as well, but it hadn¡¯t taken much thought to determine that she¡¯d be better suited to investigating Mercantis itself. I felt sorry for Roland. He¡¯d only just returned from investigating the Free Cities before being pulled into this new adventure.


    ¡°It¡¯ll have to,¡± I replied.


    There was a new Tyrant in Helike trying to cause trouble. So far he¡¯d had little success. The Summer Fae were harassing his northern borders. They¡¯d been launching raids into Helike from the Waning Woods. Yvette had claimed it had something to do with the Fae needing to remain in balance. If one court attacked one place, then the other court needed to attack somewhere else. I¡¯d also been told there was also an important diplomat from Bellerophon that was wandering around from city to city, although I¡¯d put it out of my mind. Nobody knew quite what he was looking for ¡ª and considering which city he represented ¡ª it was unlikely to matter anyway.


    ¡°Do you truly?¡± he raised an eyebrow at me.


    According to Roland, there was little else of note occurring within the Free Cities aside from their usual squabbling. Callow ¡ª on the other hand ¡ª raised many concerns. They¡¯d been stuck in somewhat of a cold civil war for about a year now. One where the supposed heroes were causing more harm than villains. The golden glow around me intensified for a moment.


    Remember Taylor, one nest of vipers at a time.


    I breathed out.


    An icy breeze at odds with the Spring heat rustled my hair as it blew through the arena.


    Both Cordelia and the Circle of Thorns asked me to solve this,¡± I sighed, ¡°others are investigating in Mercantis but¡­¡±


    We stood up. Prince Frederic rolled down his sleeves. I picked up the folded jacket from the bench beside him and helped him put it on. The two of us walked side by side towards the double doors marking the exit to the sparring yard. The Prince of Brus placed a palm on the door handle and waited for a moment. It was almost time for me to go.


    ¡°There are few who can risk venturing into the lands of the Fae,¡± Prince Frederic nodded to himself as he finished my thought.


    I felt the tugging of every location where people could use my help at the back of my mind. It was an endless sea of scintillating stars. A sea so dense that it was impossible to navigate without assistance. Not that there was a good way to navigate it regardless. There wasn¡¯t any feeling of direction to any of them. Some stars shone brighter than others. They were places that could use my help more, but they could be anywhere from the Brocelian Forest to the Dread Empire of Praes.


    ¡°And even fewer who can attempt what I¡¯m planning,¡± I agreed.


    There were so many of them. Even if I solved one complication every heartbeat, I¡¯d never run out of stars to assist. I¡¯d made a promise to myself as a consequence of that. I¡¯d concentrate on the Principate first. Even if there were people elsewhere that might require my help more. There was too much suffering for one person to alleviate all of it. It was one thing to know that at an abstract level. It was another to feel it brushing at the edge of my mind at all times.


    ¡°Then I will pray for your safe return,¡± he said.


    The sentiment made me feel warm inside. Prince Frederic had a kind heart, Over the year I¡¯d come to value both his opinions and his friendship.


    I hope that nothing bad happens to you while I¡¯m gone, Frederic.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I gave him a quick hug.


    My plan was to finish establishing a working system in one place with the hope that others would adopt it. I¡¯d consider breaking that rule if a star shone so brightly that it drowned out its neighbours. That hadn¡¯t happened yet, although there were a few times it came close to it.


    ¡°My advisors would have a conniption if they ever saw you hugging me,¡± he mused.


    ¡°Let them,¡± I smiled mischievously, ¡°I better not catch you wrestling any crocodiles when I next visit.¡±


    ¡°That was only once,¡± he sputtered, ¡°I swe-¡±


    I need somebody somewhere near Constance¡¯s Scar, but not so close that I disrupt the warding.


    I gave a silent prayer, consumed a ghost, and all but a handful of stars winked out.


    There!


    One of the dimmest stars called out to me. A small conflict. Something that would be easy for me to resolve, but would put me close to where I wanted to be.


    Prince Frederic¡¯s voice cut off as I disappeared.


    I was standing beside a wagon with a broken wheel when I reappeared. A dark skinned woman and two children stood crowded around a man on the ground. The wagon had slumped over and squashed his leg against the ground. All four of them froze and stared at me with wide eyes as I appeared beside them. It was the work of a few moments to help shift the wagon ¡ª heal his leg ¡ª and then wish them luck on their journey.


    The ground fled as I surrounded myself in a sphere of light and ascended until the twenty-foot tall line of black granite appeared on the horizon. There had been some complications in its construction. There were no nearby mines, which meant the stone had been pulled from a quarry near the base of the Whitecaps. Workers could only toil during the day due to the Fae¡¯s nighttime incursions and the area had to be kept under constant guard, but¡­ after ten months, Constance¡¯s Scar had been completely enclosed.


    Wind battered against my barrier as I flew towards my target. Yellowed indentations marred the grass where the construction site had been abandoned. The clouds above Constance¡¯s Scar roiled like boiling water. Small figures walked atop the barrier. A man I didn¡¯t recognize hailed me as I passed. I waved back in turn. I circled the barrier until I reached an imposing stone tower with an adjacent stables built beside the gate leading in. It wasn¡¯t long before I touched down on the soil and started walking towards the door to the building.


    I stopped some distance away and dispersed my bubble as I rested my feet on the ground, then launched a fountain of Light that was more decorative than functional up into the air.


    Now, to wait.


    I tapped my foot against the cobbled road. There were some justified concerns that I might disrupt the warding scheme of the wall if I drew too close to it. I had no intention of permitting the Fae free rein inside the Principate again now that they were contained.


    The door opened. A blonde haired figure dressed in a green robe hesitated for a few moments. My lips twitched. She¡¯d been trying to decide for a while now if she was too old to hug me. It wasn¡¯t long before she made up her mind. Yvette seemed to blur as she rushed out of the building, before slamming into me.


    ¡°Ma!¡± Yvette exclaimed, hugging me tight.


    She''s just a little taller every time I see her.


    Yvette had grown in the year that had passed. Her eyes drew level with my mouth now. I¡¯d bet that at the rate she was growing, she¡¯d be taller than I was in a year or two. Cordelia had not so subtly sent her an invitation to the outpost the moment it had been finished. Yvette had pounced on the opportunity to study the Fae incursion at its source.


    ¡°Hey Yvie,¡± I reached up as I greeted her and brushed her hair out of her eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯re here now that means we¡¯re going now right at least I think that-¡± she cut off, before grimacing and beginning again. ¡°We¡¯re finally ready to leave?¡±


    All three of us had done what research we could in preparation for this journey. Yvette and Roland had both learned more about the magics of the Fae. Roland could help counter their abilities in a tight space and Yvette knew more about both Summer and Winter than any other sorcerer on this side of the continent. As for me¡­ I¡¯d put my hands on every story that I could. I doubted that anyone could outfox the Fae in a game of stories. That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t arm myself as best as I could to avoid any traps. Blaise and Michel were both sullen that I¡¯d told them they couldn¡¯t come with. I didn¡¯t believe it was wise for people without a name to enter the land of the Fae, no matter how skilled they were with the sword.


    I shouldn¡¯t count as a princess any more. At least, I don¡¯t think that I should. Running away from the Prince of Nightfall, however, is going to cause a whole host of problems.


    ¡°We are,¡± I confirmed. ¡°I¡¯ve said my goodbyes and temporarily handed over my duties. All that remains is¡­¡±


    I felt a prickle at the back of my neck and turned my attention towards the door again. The chocolate eyes of Roland met my own. He was dressed in his usual leather coat and trousers, with silks hanging off his shoulders. He walked towards the two of us at a more sedate pace.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again, Taylor,¡± he greeted me, then smiled.


    ¡°You as well,¡± I replied.


    I let go of Yvette and gave him a hug as well, then moved away.


    ¡°Learned anything new?¡± I checked. ¡°Like, which court is at fault?¡±


    ¡°Did I not shed light on that already?¡± Roland raised an eyebrow as he replied.


    Yvette¡¯s cheeks went scarlet. She danced from one foot to another.


    ¡°No¡­¡± I answered, ¡°but perhaps Yvie can explain what happened? After all, the ground isn¡¯t that hot.¡±


    She averted her eyes and mumbled something while examining the paved road.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t hear any of that,¡± I told her and grinned.


    ¡°I said I forgot to tell you,¡± she admitted, shifting from one foot to another. ¡°I was too busy experimenting with trying to replicate Winter. Did you know that Winter is more Essence than anything else? I think that it can actually freeze anything if it¡¯s concentrated enough. Even time. Maybe the hunger inside Ratlings can be frozen? Why, I¡¯ll-¡±


    ¡°Yvie,¡± I interrupted, ¡°focus. Which Fae Court?¡±


    ¡°Winter is to blame,¡± she blushed again as she returned to the topic at hand. ¡°Roland took the magic from a coin and matched it to Winter.¡±


    ¡°At least we don¡¯t need to march all the way to Summer, then,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°I do not believe that which Court is to blame is significant,¡± Roland explained, ¡°considering that you intend to bring an end to the current Fae cycle.¡±


    ¡°I disagree,¡± I shook my head as I replied. ¡°Every little thing we can learn matters. The coins will vanish once the seasons change, but-¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t going to disappear until we change the courts,¡± Roland interrupted.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I agreed. ¡°Did either of you learn anything else?¡±


    ¡°I haven''t been able to confirm this because somebody wouldn''t let me go into Winter on my own,¡± Yvette glared at me, ¡°but I think Winter is winning the war.¡±


    I folded my arms and ignored the glare.


    ¡°That¡­ what does that even mean?¡± I asked. ¡°Doesn''t Summer always win?¡±


    ¡°As far as I know, there is no historical precedent for Winter winning this conflict when it comes to an up front battle,¡± Roland confirmed.


    ¡°Is this a battle, or just trickery?¡± I inquired.


    ¡°That remains to be seen,¡± Roland replied.


    A chill ran down my spine. If Winter was winning a direct fight, then it was significant, and I wasn''t certain what to think of it. What would happen if Winter won a war? Did it matter? All we needed was for the seasons to change. Support the winning side until Spring and Autumn arrived, and then the Fae Coins would disappear. That would not end the problem. Every nation that was trading in them already was liable to face trouble in the aftermath, but¡­ the scale of the calamity would only grow if the boil wasn''t lanced.


    ¡°Either way, we¡¯re ready to go. Mind fetching the horses?¡± I asked, ¡°I¡¯d do it myself, but-¡±


    Time functioned according to arcane rules in Arcadia. It was the largest risk with this venture and what made me so nervous. We could enter for only one day and exit a decade later, or enter for a year and leave only a day later. I¡¯d chosen to enter mounted rather than fly as a result. There were stories that benefitted from riding on horseback. I¡¯d take any advantage I could in a land where time had little meaning and story had plenty.


    ¡°You do not wish to chance disrupting the warding scheme,¡± Roland finished.


    I was expecting trouble within Arcadia and despite that I was still eager to go there. It was a place where stories had power above all else. A place where a brief visit could make lasting change. A place where ¡ª with the right story ¡ª I wouldn¡¯t have to claw for months for only the smallest of victories.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± I agreed.


    Roland left and brought three saddled mounts laden with goods. Pandora took one look at me and snorted. The other two horses were far more demure. I flew up high into the sky and over the walls, then descended beside the others. There, I mounted up.


    The sun dipped below the horizon.


    Dust billowed behind as all three of us rode towards the crater¡¯s edge.


    Our stride carried us past the boundary and we entered a winter wonderland.

 Elysium 7.01

    ¡°It¡¯s perfectly reasonable to expect families to pay tax on members long since deceased. There is no telling how long they will remain that way.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Inimical, the Miser


    <hr>


    Reality became more vivid as we stepped across the border between Creation and Arcadia. It was hard to put my finger on the precise details of what had changed, although some alterations were obvious. It was almost as if existence itself had been exaggerated. I knew that it was in my head ¡ª but I noticed that if I looked at the environment out of the corner of my eyes ¡ª I¡¯d see the brush strokes that outlined this Winter wonderland. Hues had become more distinct. Lighter colours had become brighter, the shadows deeper.


    ¡°This air of this place is uncanny,¡± Roland murmured, then shivered as he glanced around.


    I did much the same. Our three mounts stood in the middle of what must have once been a beautiful Summer meadow. Frozen sunflowers withered under a hoary frost. At the far end of the dying glade was a path paved out of the blackest stone. It beckoned toward us. A frosting of icicles clung to the naked pines on either side of the road, and a dense curtain of white fell beneath them. One which made the distinct lack of snow on the trail itself even more obvious.


    There¡¯s no lamppost, so not the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ¡ª not that I expected as much considering the ghosts ¡ª but still.


    ¡°We were expected,¡± I declared while examining the sky.


    A tempestuous vortex swirled above. Lightning shimmered across the clouds. I could sense the oppressive weight of Winter settling down upon my shoulders. I turned away from it and looked at the others.


    ¡°That appears to be the shape of it,¡± Roland puffed out a stream of mist as he murmured from the horse on my left.


    ¡°Remember the rules?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We all went through your stuffy preparation checklist,¡± Yvette mumbled.


    ¡°Then you remember? I repeated.


    ¡°Yes ma.¡± Yvette rolled her eyes at me, ¡°all ten of them.¡±


    I stretched my phantom limbs towards the sea of stars. I wasn¡¯t surprised by what I encountered there. The immaterial pinpricks were present, but it was as if a veil had been cast between them and me. My mind strained against the ethereal boundary, only to find itself repulsed by a will harder than steel. The denial left me feeling uneasy, even if I¡¯d expected as much.


    ¡°No leaving until this is resolved,¡± I warned. ¡°The King of Winter has us trapped.¡±


    ¡°Then we have stepped into the lion¡¯s den,¡± Roland dragged a hand through his shaggy, brown hair as he sighed.


    ¡°Examine everything,¡± I continued. ¡°Every detail matters.¡±


    Rule one: everything in this realm is part of a story.


    I didn¡¯t think the story we were in was a story that I recognized the intricacies of. At least, not without more information. It wasn¡¯t bleak enough to be the Greek underworld. It was too much to hope for the Fae to have played into an Earth story rather than a Creational one. I¡¯d done my best to learn as many of those as I could, but there were only so many hours in the day. It remained to be seen if they would play into the roles of any stories from my last life.


    ¡°It¡¯s all essence, though,¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°Immerse yourself in the Light,¡± she licked her lips, ¡°it¡¯s all a complicated tangled web of illusions.¡±


    I focused for a few heartbeats. The surrounding glow intensified. For a moment, I glimpsed behind the curtain. The pines stood as frozen sculptures, their shadows cast on a road paved with ice. The world dulled as I dismissed the miracle an instant later.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± I countered. ¡°The lie is the truth here.¡±


    Pandora snorted from beneath me as I ran my fingers through her silky white mane.


    ¡°But-¡± Yvette sputtered.


    ¡°Taylor as the right of it,¡± Roland interrupted. ¡°The smoke and mirrors will swallow all of us whole if we choose to ignore them.¡±


    Yvette lips tightened for a few moments. She gripped her reins tighter, but still held her tongue.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I urged, ¡°let¡¯s see where this goes.¡±


    ¡°At least we can agree on that,¡± Yvette muttered and ran a finger through her golden hair. ¡°Space is all bendy. It¡¯s just as flexible as time here.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I smiled at her. ¡°No point to avoiding it.¡±


    We settled into an easy silence that was broken by the sound of hooves on the icy road. The glade fell away behind us like a scattering of Autumn leaves in the wind as we proceeded deeper into the woods. A harrowing breeze whistled through the trees. Taylor, the voice of Brian called out through Winter¡¯s bite. I blinked, then shuddered.


    It¡¯s nothing more than a gentle breeze, Taylor. Even if the gentle breeze sounding like a voice from my past is part of a story.


    ¡°This journey saps at my thoughts,¡± Roland yawned an hour later.


    ¡°It what?¡± I inquired.


    I glanced at my companions. Roland appeared worse for wear. Yvette¡¯s emerald eyes also drooped. Her horse kept adjusting itself in an effort to keep her from falling off.


    That¡¯s odd. Is this some kind of enchanted forest?


    Yvette reached into her pockets and muttered for a few heartbeats before pulling out a mirror. She scowled and put it back in again, then dug deeper.


    ¡°Dimensional pocket?¡± my fingers twitched against the reins as she pulled out the knife I¡¯d made for her, ¡°when did you make that?¡±


    ¡°A month ago,¡± her cheeks reddened as she turned away from me, ¡°but it didn¡¯t turn out well. The inside is an ugly knot that can¡¯t be easily organized,¡± she put the knife away and pulled out a phial containing a silver powder that I didn¡¯t recognize. ¡°It always takes me forever to find what I want, and somehow animals keep finding their way inside. I¡¯ve had to remove three lizards, a moth and a dove in the past week alone.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll get better,¡± I encouraged.


    Yvette¡¯s eyebrows knitted together. She muttered a brief incantation before making broad, sweeping gestures. Her fingers danced. Golden symbols traced themselves in the air. She froze, pouted, then huffed. One of the symbols disappeared. She resumed chanting. There was a blinding flash a few moments later. Yvette and Roland both seemed to relax. Yvette smiled like a cat that caught the canary, then nodded to herself.


    ¡°The forest is designed to induce torpor,¡± Yvette explained. ¡°See those trees,¡± she pointed ahead then behind, ¡°they repeat every few hundred paces. We¡¯ve not actually moved at-¡±


    I felt a chill. It didn¡¯t surprise me that I wasn¡¯t affected, but it worried me that I hadn¡¯t noticed that they had been under an enchantment. I needed to pay more attention. I didn¡¯t want to lose anyone else.


    ¡°Look to the horizon,¡± Roland interrupted Yvette, and pointed up ahead.


    I followed the trail of his finger. The tree line ended up ahead in the distance. I could barely make out the silhouette of a bridge crossing the glazed river on the other end. Half a dozen figures riding our way from the opposite side of the bridge. I squinted. First I observed them with my eyes, then I looked with the Light. A knot settled in my stomach.


    Of course. Why wouldn¡¯t the warping of space terminate now that we noticed it?


    ¡°Not enemies,¡± I guessed, ¡°but they are expecting us.¡±


    The Fae appeared as ghosts clad in formal black and silver ceremonial armour with open helmets when seen without piercing the illusion. They rode like shadows through a forest of mirrors. Their phantom horses flickered in and out of existence from one heartbeat to the next. I examined the beasts closer. The creatures possessed a regal bearing. I was unsurprised by how different they appeared when observed under the scrutiny of the Light. Six figures with horned helmets in scale armour of woven dead wood and obsidian, all riding shaggy unicorns. There was a snake-like cast to all their features.


    ¡°Those are the riders from the Wild Hunt,¡± Yvette¡¯s voice oozed with scepticism. ¡°You think they¡¯re going to invite us for tea?¡±


    It was their Dream that unsettled me.


    Freedom, escape, an end to the cycle.


    I¡¯d never seen two people that all shared the same Dream, never mind six of them. The Dream was blinding in its intensity. The Fae loathed their very existence. Loathed it so much that they would do anything to escape the trappings of the narrative coiled around them. It occurred to me then that I hadn¡¯t thought more about what it meant to be one of the Fae. They were bound to follow a cycle of stories. Trapped to repeat them again and again. Trapped, much like slaves. There wasn¡¯t really a way to interact with them without forcing them to act against their own will.


    The implications were horrendous.


    ¡°Seasoned with arsenic as well,¡± I agreed, ¡°but I think they¡¯re here as an honour guard.¡±


    What¡¯s the right thing to do?


    I prayed silently while I considered the Fae and received a silent blanket of reassurance in reply. Was there a good way to interact with them? Was there a right way to end this cycle of conflict? I¡¯d come into Arcadia thinking that I¡¯d help one side win, then leave in the aftermath. I was still confident that I could do that, but I was beginning to believe that my first solution wasn¡¯t the correct one.


    ¡°I doubt they mean us anything but harm,¡± Roland muttered.


    I examined the Fae further, then reflected on my memories of them. There was a cast to their features. A shadow that I¡¯d never seen on their faces before. They were serious about whatever role they were playing. It could¡¯ve been an act, but both the reassurance of the Angels and my own intuition told me otherwise.


    ¡°Doubt it,¡± I dismissed his concerns.


    The real question is what happens if I try to push them into one of the stories that I relinquished. Will they play the Role, or will they just ignore the attempt?


    ¡°It would be wiser to strike them down than risk becoming tangled in their web,¡± Roland cautioned.


    I could tell from the raised pitch of his voice that he didn¡¯t put much faith in my claim.


    ¡°Roland is right,¡± Yvette agreed with a curt nod while fidgeting with the hem of her robe.


    ¡°There¡¯s no point to it,¡± I argued, ¡°I can¡¯t kill the King of Winter without the right story.¡±


    And something tells me that sooner or later he¡¯s who we¡¯ll be fighting if we try to escape through force.


    We drew level with the bridge. The Fae had halted at the middle of it. None of them had drawn their weapons. The comforting reassurance blanketing my shoulders suggested that they wouldn¡¯t, either.


    ¡°I dislike the shape of this,¡± Roland pressed. ¡°I¡¯d rather meet them with steel and magic than play a puppet in their cosy curtain show.¡±


    I gazed down at the ice as we ascended the gentle slope. Light and shadows skittered like cockroaches right beneath the surface.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like it either,¡± I admitted.


    It would¡¯ve been easier if I expected the Fae would betray us. That was a familiar story, even if it was an unpleasant one. Conflict, violence, and backstabbing were what the Winter Fae had a reputation for. This was a new game they were playing. A game where nobody knew the rules.


    Rule two: Only ask a question in exchange for a question in turn.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± all six of the Wild Hunt greeted in unison, ¡°your arrival was anticipated.¡±


    There was something eerie about how they moved. Everything was synchronized. It was like watching a theatre performance acted out by script. One that had been performed thousands upon thousands of times. It reminded me just a little of the faithful during sermons. That was to be expected considering the circumstances. Unfortunately, it didn¡¯t tell me much about what I needed to know. The Fae hadn¡¯t referred to me by Name, Role, or title. Any of the three would¡¯ve given me at least a hint as to where I fit into the story.


    Careful to thread the needle of this conversation. I don¡¯t want to break the mould before I am aware of what¡¯s inside of it.


    ¡°My companions are road weary,¡± I gave the creature a meaningful glance.


    The Fae glanced from me to my companions. There was a brief flicker of emotion on their faces. A disdainful sneer that I would have otherwise missed without more than mortal senses. They weren¡¯t pleased to go along with whatever this was, but they were doing it regardless.


    ¡°Rest assured,¡± the Fae replied, ¡°we will see that you are untroubled for the remainder of your journey.¡±


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The six Fae approached. Both Roland and Yvette sent me a questioning glance. I gave them a subtle shake of the head in reply. We¡¯d play along for now until I¡¯d decided how I wanted to resolve this cycle of seasons. All of us formed up with the Fae as a retinue around us. Three on one side, three on the other. Roland rode in front of me and Yvette road behind. I was sandwiched in the middle of everyone else.


    ¡°The forest up ahead has unusual geometry,¡± Yvette commented.


    We passed over the bridge and into the forest on the other side. It wasn¡¯t long before I noticed that she was right. The trees appeared to twist and bend their bare branches towards us. They were like frozen hands grasping towards any who travelled the road. One of the members of our entourage clicked their tongues and the branches shied away.


    ¡°The Twisted Forest is one of the first traps faced by all those who oppose the advance of Winter,¡± the ghostly figure on my left explained.


    Wait, they¡¯re actually going to exposit if prompted? Honour guard might be wrong. Perhaps they¡¯re filling the role of guides.


    ¡°Times as dark as these present many opportunities to those who are willing to step into the light,¡± Roland fished.


    ¡°So you have heard of our victory over Summer?¡± the spectral soldier on Roland¡¯s right affected surprise. ¡°It is true that our esteemed Prince of Nightfall seized the Sun in a glorious clash with the Princess of High Noon.¡±


    Was that significant? It sounded like a piece of a puzzle that we were being handed. The trouble was that I was as good as blind and trying to solve it by touch. We needed more context. Winter was winning, but that didn¡¯t concern me as long as the war stayed within the Fae. Accelerating their victory would only resolve our troubles faster.


    Let¡¯s see what I can learn without asking any questions.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that there is freedom to be found in chaos,¡± I prompted.


    ¡°We have heard much the same, honoured guest,¡± the ephemeral rider to my left replied, ¡°but it has yet to be discovered.¡±


    ¡°Our host appears well-informed,¡± I mused.


    ¡°He sees much and misses little,¡± one of the riders replied.


    They won¡¯t answer every question then. Only ones that fit the narrative they¡¯re within. That, or questions that they want to answer. It¡¯s difficult to tell.


    ¡°Every story has a first and last page,¡± Yvette interjected from behind me, ¡°and there is magic in good endings.¡±


    A city rose in the distance. One that defied all my preconceived notions of what a city could be. It was like someone had taken inspiration from the works of an artist high on at least fifteen different kinds of drugs and then elected to carve them into reality. Grand towers rose into the sky in the distance. I squinted. They appeared to shimmer in and out of existence depending on where I looked. Bridges of mist linked one tower to the other. The city walls became visible as we drew closer. Walls that were forged from the dark of midnight.


    ¡°Not all stories end on the last page,¡± one of the Fae replied in frosty tones.


    The way he said the words made them sound like an oath.


    So they haven¡¯t discovered a loophole yet.


    My fingers slacked. There was an ominous crackle as we passed through archways made of thunderstorms. We neared the city gate. Carved into it were images that composed stories when taken as a whole. I blinked. The stories that were depicted had shifted. My first glimpse of the city within took my breath away. There were buildings carved out of moonlight and roads of solid water flanked by street lights made of auroras.


    ¡°If heaven was carved from dead wood, ice and stone,¡± I whispered under my breath, ¡°then Skade is what it would look like.¡±


    I felt giddy. There were still sights which could take my breath away even years after arriving in Creation. I reached out and caught a leave fluttering in the icy wind. Stone, with the texture of life within it. My fingers relaxed, and the leaf fluttered away. I smiled and looked around again. Avenues of trees carved from ice with leaves of stone stretched out on either side of me. Their leaves rustled as if pushed by an imaginary breeze. The movement was as lifelike in their movement as any tree I had known.


    ¡°Is it a marvel?¡± one of our escorts countered.


    I peered closer.


    Not a speck of dust appeared out of place. There was something eminently off about the city of Skade despite that. Something that was hard for me to put a finger on. I gazed down an alley and blinked. The park of ice sculptures became a hotel carved into the face of a glacier. I wasn¡¯t surprised. I¡¯d already expected space to obey different rules. Was that what churned my stomach?


    No, it¡¯s not that. It¡¯s something else. What am I missing? Look closer, Taylor.


    ¡°The fall of one curtain heralds nothing more than the rise of another,¡± Roland suggested while I mulled over the matter.


    A stillness fell over the Fae then.


    ¡°The time of masks is drawing to a close,¡± the rider on his left replied.


    A stillness stole over us as we proceeded through the city.


    Oh, that¡¯s what has me so unsettled.


    It was the inhabitants. I¡¯d been so enamoured with the architecture of the city that I¡¯d missed the obvious. I dug in my heels and Pandora slowed. The rest of the procession followed suit. The sheer wrongness of Arcadia filled me.


    How can a place so beautiful be simultaneously so horrifying?


    Everyone was miserable. It didn¡¯t matter where I looked or who I stared at. Oh, they hid it well. They affected a fa?ade of nonchalance or even outright happiness. But no, under the mask they all hid a well of vitriol so deep for their own existence that their dreams scalded me merely to look at. I couldn¡¯t spot any Fae who weren¡¯t trying to escape the story of their own cycle of existence.


    Not a single one.


    And it manifested in a way that would¡¯ve been comedic if I didn¡¯t have the proper context.


    I watched as a man with an elephant¡¯s head haggled with a giraffe person at the edge of the road. An empty hourglass was traded for the sand it would hold. Futile. Pointless. Then my eyes fell on another pair that were trading a stack of blank pages back and forth for book bindings. Almost all the Fae were engaged in activities with no clear goal. It didn¡¯t matter where I stared. A group of four inverted winged Fae were floating on my right. They were seated on chairs and drinking tea around an upside down table that bobbed in the breeze. There was no rhyme or reason to anything anyone did. It had been a long time since I¡¯d last thought about computers or electronics. Watching the Fae flounder was like seeing a computer attempt to execute faulty code.


    My breath froze.


    ¡°It is a pitiful existence,¡± the phantom on my right declared.


    What story were we caught within? We arrived in a new world and were led by ¡®spirit guides¡¯ to the city of Skade. Roland and I had been involved in conflict with the Fae in the past. There was a possibility I qualified for the role of an abdicated princess or escaped prisoner. Roland would be some kind of rogue. What about Yvette? There were many possibilities.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know the new stories,¡± I surmised.


    It could be an old Creational story, but it could also be one from Earth Bet. I dismissed any stories from most of Africa or Asia. Not because it couldn¡¯t be one of them, but because I didn¡¯t know enough about them to judge. How about an Egyptian Creation myth? The story of Osiris? No, I didn¡¯t feel like it fit. Norse mythology? Perhaps Odin¡¯s Valkyries? None of them were women, but I wasn¡¯t sure that mattered to the Fae.


    I bet it¡¯s a story from Creation.


    ¡°And yet we¡¯re still bound to them,¡± he continued my thought.


    Was their goal achievable without abandoning our own objectives? Yes, yes it was. In fact, it might be even better than that. We could shove a dragon through the eye of a needle if we played our hand right. We might hold all the cards because the Fae would simply give them to us. That might change if we became uncooperative.


    I wasn¡¯t feeling uncooperative.


    ¡°You¡¯re experimenting,¡± I added, ¡°trying to find a story that breaks your chains.¡±


    The Fae didn¡¯t care if they were caught in narrative traps like this because sooner or later the season would change. They¡¯d have a better understanding of the new stories they were subject to each time that they began their cycle again. My heart broke a little then. They were happy, I realized. Happy ¡ª even while miserable ¡ª because now they had a chance to escape the endless repetitions of the seasons.


    ¡°Not all have elected to break from established patterns,¡± the rider elaborated, ¡°only those who have adopted domestic roles during the present seasonal cycle.¡±


    It felt like a hint of some sort. A piece of advice that I was supposed to use to solve the puzzle that was the Fae. Why were they being so helpful? I didn¡¯t know any stories where the Fae tried to be downright accommodating. I stiffened. They knew that I possessed a greater understanding of the new stories than they did. They wanted me to solve their problem for them.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best,¡± I promised sincerely.


    I¡¯d need a far more elaborate plot than the one I¡¯d begun with if I wanted any hope of achieving the outcome that they desired. It was fortunate that I was certain the Fae were all more than willing to play along with whatever tale I attempted to weave.


    No pressure, Taylor. You have an entire species relying on you for freedom.


    ¡°Your best is all that we can ask for,¡± the rider replied.


    It wasn¡¯t long before we arrived at the foot of a silver gate to a more opulent part of the city. More opulent than places that had already been so extravagant that I¡¯d never seen anything so enchanting before. I¡¯d have been gawking if my mind wasn¡¯t elsewhere.


    ¡°We¡¯ll leave you here now,¡± the rider declared. ¡°Your host will be arriving soon.¡±


    The six riders galloped off. The three of us sat on horseback in a silence that was broken by the whistle of the wind. Then, Roland turned towards me and narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°You promised to break them from the shackles of their story,¡± he scratched at his nose while he spoke.


    The angry cries of a mob protesting my decision echoed out within his words.


    ¡°They¡¯re slaves,¡± I stated.


    The Winter Fae are ¡ª by nature ¡ª whimsical, haughty, dismissive and dangerous. Behaving that way was distinctly out of character for them, and how it must¡¯ve rankled.


    ¡°They¡¯re monsters,¡± he challenged.


    ¡°Because they¡¯re forced to be,¡± I argued.


    The denial felt forced. I knew that I was arguing for helping out a species where every member had committed atrocities. I knew that leaving the Fae trapped would likely be pragmatic. That wasn¡¯t something I was prepared to do. Perhaps with time they had earned this prison, but it certainly hadn¡¯t started that way.


    ¡°The Prince of Nightfall tried to trap you in a crystal sphere with thousands of other souls,¡± Roland pressed, ¡°or have past circumstances slipped from your thoughts?¡±


    I think that debating about whether the Fae deserve freedom in public in the middle of Skade when their restraints are already loose has got to be a novel form of ritual suicide.


    ¡°Look around,¡± I folded my arms and addressed them both. ¡°Think it¡¯s wise to argue here?¡±


    Both of them glanced around for a few moments. The streets in this part of Skade were abandoned, and yet I¡¯d bet there were eyes upon us.


    ¡°These words need to be said,¡± Roland shook his head.


    ¡°Roland¡¯s right,¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°Not all stories are darkness and trickery,¡± she sidled up beside me and laid a palm atop my shoulder. ¡°They chose this for themselves.¡±


    ¡°Does that condemn them to eternal servitude?¡± I asked.


    ¡°They¡¯re more essence than person,¡± Yvette retorted, ¡°imagine the horror they would unleash should they be free.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll do the same things if they stay as is,¡± I challenged.


    ¡°That is not an excuse to meddle with the nature of this plane,¡± Roland cautioned.


    ¡°Neither of you understand,¡± I dismissed, ¡°the Fae will do anything to escape their current shackles.¡±


    It was a far better idea for us to guide the nature of their freedom than to leave it up to somebody else to decide. The box was open, and the cat was alive. There was no returning it to the cage. It was best for us to keep it well-fed and happy rather than put it on the streets.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t excuse their past atrocities,¡± Roland argued.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t,¡± I agreed. ¡°Asking them to redeem themselves would be cheap by their reckoning,¡± I licked my lips. ¡°Besides,¡± I continued, ¡°they want to be free from their seasonal cycle. I¡¯m not even sure if I can free them from the narrative entirely.¡±


    ¡°Our goal is to change the seasons,¡± Yvette complained, ¡°not to interfere with the metaphysics of the Fae Courts.¡±


    Yvette would be my biggest supporter if she spent a heartbeat reflecting on what she just said.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Then why are you risking tangling yourself with a web woven by the Fae?¡± Roland challenged.


    ¡°We¡¯re playing a game with all the cards face up and everyone at the table doing their best to help us win,¡± I explained. ¡°At worst?¡± I shrugged, ¡°we get what we came for. We could achieve far more.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Yvette argued. ¡°We could-¡±


    ¡°The Fae are trying to accommodate us,¡± I interjected. ¡°We can¡¯t turn away from this.¡±


    Yvette was wrong. The outcome would be worse if we didn¡¯t try to help them because then every single one of them would have reason to fight against us. The Fae were playing nice because they didn¡¯t have a motive to be forceful. I¡¯d realized after years of struggling against the consequences of my own actions that¡­ it was stupid to give them an incentive to fight us if they were prepared to help.


    ¡°What of the story we are caught in?¡± Roland inquired. ¡°You are ignoring that in favour of righting this perceived wrong.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more aware of that now than ever before,¡± I shook my head as I replied.


    A plan was starting to take shape in my mind. My mistake was in thinking there weren¡¯t more than two solutions to the problem of the Fae Courts. There were far more answers than two of them. The challenge would be finding one that would work. Merging the two Fae Courts seemed feasible. So did the idea of splitting them into additional Courts, redefining the relationship of the Courts, or even utterly annihilating either one or both of them. I was spoiled for choice. Even if I wasn¡¯t certain how achievable all of those choices were.


    ¡°If this was my idea,¡± Yvette said, ¡°you¡¯d argue against it.¡±


    How about joining the Fae Courts through marriage? That felt like a sufficiently traditional Earth answer to this mess. No. Even if it worked, the idea left me feeling uneasy. It was the kind of story that sounded good on paper but was awful in reality. I wouldn¡¯t be happy marrying the two Fae rulers unless I had the approval of both of them. Neither of them could consent to an arrangement like that because they were bound to stories. Actually, how about a divorce afterwards? No, I was thinking about this the wrong way. I didn¡¯t even know if marriage would satisfy whatever arcane rules caused these complications to begin with.


    That¡¯s my first priority. Learn more about their restrictions, then determine what it will take to break them.


    ¡°Think of it as an experiment,¡± I changed my approach, ¡°a chance to advance your understanding.¡±


    Yvette bit her lower lip and furrowed her brow. A delicate finger played with her hair for a few heartbeats, before she at last replied.


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot we could learn,¡± she conceded while running her fingers through her horse¡¯s mane. ¡°Perhaps something that could even help with my own projects.¡±


    I averted my gaze guiltily.


    It¡¯s like stealing from a baby.


    ¡°Is the possibility of broadening your knowledge truly enough for you to set aside your qualms?¡± Roland sounded exasperated.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Yvette trailed off, ¡°Ma is the one with the strongest opinions on right and wrong. If she thinks this is the right thing to do, then it must be.¡±


    ¡°That is still-¡±


    Roland¡¯s voice trailed off as the sound of metal scraping against ice cut into our discussion.


    I turned towards the silver gate.


    Ice trained down my spine.


    I knew that face.


    I recognized that air of danger.


    A pale skinned, one-eyed Fae with thin red lips stood tall on the opposing side. He was wearing a black coat with white lace and silver buttons, and a black silk blindfold covered the missing eye. The Prince of Nightfall stood with one hand pressed against a slender sword and another against the barricade.


    ¡°So, you were chosen,¡± the Prince of Nightfall sounded amused, ¡°there is almost a symmetry to this. Isn¡¯t there? Come now,¡± Arcadia shivered as he spoke, ¡°your timing¡­ is most fortunate.¡±

 Elysium 7.02

    ¡°The divide between ambition and hubris is marked by which side of the dirt you lie on.¡±


    ¡ª Praesi saying


    <hr>


    I stared at the Prince of Nightfall while I considered what story I wanted to approach him with. His eye ¡ª black as night ¡ª flayed me under their gaze.


    Don¡¯t attack him for trapping you in a ball, Taylor.


    I took a deep breath, then exhaled.


    ¡°I greet you,¡± my fingers flexed and brushed against the white of my robe as I spoke, ¡°Prince of Nightfall.¡±


    I took a moment to examine his Dream.


    Liberation from stories, release from the chains that bind him.


    It was funny how he wished for freedom while putting so many others under lock and key. I wasn¡¯t sure how he reconciled the hypocrisy. It probably had something to do with mortals being lesser creatures. I didn¡¯t care enough about his exact brand of evil to learn the specifics.


    ¡°A wary greeting, High Priestess,¡± he commented. ¡°Do I truly cast so long a shadow?¡±


    That¡¯s one way to frame trapping thousands of souls in crystal balls.


    ¡°Only when it suits you,¡± I replied.


    There was a difference between his Dream and the other fae that I¡¯d seen. It was more fleshed out¡­ more real. He¡¯d put real effort into plotting the escape from his personal hell. Enough effort that it would take me some time to unravel all the plots involved.


    ¡°As cautious as when we first met,¡± he said while tapping the flat of his blade.


    I looked deeper. His plans were more of a juggler¡¯s act than anything else. Thousands upon thousands of balls in the air with the futile hope of one of them knocking the key off the wall and nudging it close enough so that he could grab it and set himself free.


    ¡°It keeps me alive,¡± I evaded.


    It¡¯s when I¡¯m careless that I make new regrets.


    I examined the dream further. He was either the second or third most important Winter fae I was liable to meet ¡ª I wasn¡¯t sure how he compared to the Princess of Silent Depths ¡ª and it was critical that I understood his goals. My aura flared brighter for a moment when I stumbled upon something infuriating. The Prince of Nightfall was responsible for the troubles in Mercantis.


    ¡°Your past trespass is forgiven with no debts owed,¡± he stated.


    Forgiven? Forgiven? He was the one who imprisoned me.


    Don¡¯t make a mistake because you¡¯re angry, Taylor.


    My chest rose as I breathed in and snuffed the flame of my anger.


    How should I frame this conversation? It would be so, so easy to just throw Light at him. No. Violence remained just as unwise as before, even if I sorely wished for it. Killing the Prince of Nightfall wouldn¡¯t make the problems in Mercantis disappear, and it would make new troubles for me with the Winter Court.


    ¡°How generous,¡± I replied frostily.


    Killing him doesn¡¯t matter because he¡¯ll come back anyway.


    No, I shouldn¡¯t think that way. There were political consequences to doing as much. It would be stupid to act before I¡¯d appraised myself of both Courts. That didn¡¯t mean there was nothing to gain from this encounter. I wanted more than a few concessions. The first would be to free his prisoners from their cells. The rest would be more complicated.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± he bent his head a fraction, ¡°you could say that whimsy¡¯s wild tide has swept me in.¡±


    Be cautious.


    We weren¡¯t leaving the city of Skade without permission from somebody high up in the Winter Court. I hoped that I could negotiate that with the Prince of Nightfall now that he was here, rather than the King of Winter himself. The former I might win a fight with if negotiations broke down. I didn¡¯t want to be anywhere near the latter until I knew exactly what I was planning to do.


    ¡°Talk.¡± I said.


    What story could I lean into? A story involving my prior escape would probably be my safest bet. I hadn¡¯t expected to encounter the Prince of Nightfall so soon, but I wasn¡¯t above taking advantage of it.


    ¡°Dismount,¡± he ordered. ¡°The road yields to none but me and my king,¡± the tone of his voice was like a silken leash trying to pull at my thoughts. ¡°Walk with care, lest it devour you.¡±


    The one-eyed creature gestured behind him. Three servants clad in blue appeared as if by magic.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll walk where it fears to swallow me,¡± I replied.


    ¡°That would be a performance worth watching,¡± he laughed.


    ¡°You know,¡± I drawled, ¡°the story usually involves giving a girl a horse and not the reverse.¡±


    Roland and Yvette glanced at me before we handed the reins to the attendants. Pandora snapped at a hand, earning a glare.


    ¡°Fish also like to bite off more than they can chew,¡± he replied. A faint smile brushed his lips, ¡°you¡¯ll find your tricks buy nought more than tragedy in these frozen halls.¡±


    His wits were unwelcome, but not unexpected. I put the mounting unease aside and returned my thoughts to the clouds ahead. He¡¯d alluded to me being chosen, as if I was following a prophecy of some kind. I wasn¡¯t willing to follow along an unknown script. Better to deny the role immediately and then find out where we stood.


    ¡°I¡¯m not your puppet,¡± I warned. ¡°I make my own choices.¡±


    All three of us strolled behind him through the gates onto a much wider, frozen avenue.


    ¡°It has been long since another sought to make sport of me through stories,¡± the Prince of Nightfall taunted with a voice that rang like the crackling of lightning. ¡°The soul of the last became a crystal chandelier. If you stand close and listen, sometimes you can still hear them scream.¡±


    ¡°Given all your other atrocities,¡± I glared as I addressed the fae, ¡°why would another surprise me?¡±


    The air felt heavier here. There was nobody walking around, despite how opulent the buildings were. It was fitting for a city of monsters to be so empty. Satisfaction swelled within me. I forced it aside. I shouldn¡¯t delight in the suffering of others. Even when it was really tempting to. I reminded myself that the Winter fae¡¯s new existence would come with some guiding principles. Ones that I would have a hand in.


    ¡°Look to the shore,¡± he extended a pale finger ahead as he replied.


    I ignored the unease I felt and followed the gesture. Ominous mansions sculpted from frosted marble flanked the road. They were cast in the shapes of screaming faces ¡ª which did nothing to easy my tension ¡ª and evoked an unnatural sense of anguish when observed. We trailed the path as it sloped downwards towards a coast in the distance.


    ¡°The fabric of Creation is an ocean,¡± his red lips smiled as he spoke, ¡°and the nature of existence is that of a ship attempting to navigate the waters.¡±


    I could barely perceive the skeletal outline of a ship on the waters if I squinted. A dense bank of fog had swallowed the shore.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the path to the Winter King¡¯s palace,¡± I surmised as my aura intensified.


    ¡°It is not,¡± he mused. ¡°You are ships adrift, blind and rudderless, clinging to hope in a storm that will not pass.¡±


    Roland arched a bushy brown eyebrow and tilted his head to one side. I shook my head in reply, then raised a hand and lowered two fingers. He nodded in acceptance.


    Rule three: Roland and Yvette take the lead when we want to lean into Earth¡¯s stories.


    ¡°We¡¯ll not play the part of puppets upon your stage,¡± the curly haired charlatan challenged from my left, ¡°our purpose is greater than to read lines in your script.¡±


    We¡¯d planned as much as we could for a meeting with the Prince of Nightfall. I¡¯d have been a fool not to, considering we¡¯d contested him before.


    ¡°Fate is an unyielding tide,¡± the raven haired creature rebutted from up ahead. ¡°No ship sails free of its pull.¡±


    I didn¡¯t think that I had a pattern of three with him. However, I wasn¡¯t willing to take any chances. There were some compromises I wanted from the fae if I was setting them free. Compromises that I felt were entirely reasonable. Being compassionate to their suffering didn¡¯t mean that I wasn¡¯t able to take into consideration the consequences of ending their plight. They weren¡¯t the only beings that existed, and I cared about everyone else as well.


    ¡°Providence should be malleable like any other part of Creation,¡± Yvette muttered from my right. ¡°You just need to know how to bend the rules,¡± she paused and bit her lip. ¡°Perhaps I could try to-¡±


    ¡°Yvette, focus,¡± I interjected.


    We don¡¯t need her trying to mess around with hero¡¯s luck any time soon.


    ¡°Some designs lie beyond the attainment of even the noblest of us,¡± the fae challenged.


    I wasn¡¯t sure which story we were in, and I wasn¡¯t willing to keep it that way. Creation had many stories involving runaway princes, abdicating princesses and also runaway brides. The third felt like the best fit to escape these circumstances.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen things that convince me otherwise,¡± Yvette pouted as she replied.


    I loathed being trapped in one of those stories, but I could leverage it into an escape.


    ¡°Not all principles are so easily bent,¡± The Prince of Nightfall tugged on his black collar. ¡°See those who fly above us,¡± he pointed at five Winter warriors mounted on winged horses soaring towards the edge of the city, ¡°their duty binds tighter than any other.¡±


    Fae cast into the roles of warriors found their bindings more restrictive than those cast into domestic roles this cycle if I understood what I was being told correctly. That might explain why the conflict between Summer and Winter continued, although I felt there was more to it.


    ¡°It is not their duty but fear that compels them,¡± Roland challenged.


    I guessed that Roland felt much the same as I did. I¡¯d seen enough of the fae imprisoned within recursive stories on the streets to realize the implications. They might fear what would happen if all of them suffered the same ending. It was possible for the fae to trap themselves in a new type of cycle. A cycle even worse than the old one.


    ¡°Perhaps there are elements of both,¡± the Prince of Nightfall mused.


    Could I twist the story here? It felt possible.


    Rule four: I take the lead when we want to lean into Creation¡¯s stories.


    ¡°Fate is a fickle mistress,¡± I argued, ¡°and I¡¯d make a poor bride to share this hell with. Wedding me won¡¯t ease your suffering.¡±


    We were in a city with ghostly citizens. One that might as well be hell. He¡¯d asserted that I belonged here. Almost as if I was his captive. Whatever story this was shared enough similarities with the story of Persephone¡¯s Abduction that I felt it fit. Only, I couldn¡¯t be Persephone.


    Give me Creation¡¯s equivalent to this story. I¡¯m betting it has at least one that fits.


    ¡°Think of this more as an adventure,¡± he laughed as if he was enjoying a joke at our expense. ¡°We embark on a perilous journey aboard my ship,¡± his voice thrummed ominously, ¡°one where I set the terms.¡±


    Why didn¡¯t it surprise me that he stepped into a story that I didn¡¯t recognize the script for? Conversation stalled while I chewed over his reply. The Prince of Nightfall slowed as we reached the edge of the fog bank, then stopped. All three of us followed suit.


    ¡°Proceed onto the deck,¡± he ordered, ¡°there¡¯s still much for us to discuss before we arrive.¡±


    Roland raised an eyebrow my way as if to ask whether we were following. I gave a hesitant nod.


    ¡°We¡¯ll follow for now,¡± I declared, ¡°but we¡¯re not your captives.¡±


    The smell of brine was strong in the air, and foam lathered the edge of the docks. It was almost enough to trick me into thinking this was an ordinary harbour. That is, it would be if not for the notable absence of people, seagulls, and bird shit.


    ¡°I don¡¯t trust this ship,¡± Yvette muttered, ¡°it¡¯s flimsy.¡±


    Yvette glared at the gangway leading onto the vessel. I felt much the same. The galleon was in a sorry state. With rotten wood, tattered sails and a barnacle crusted hull, it appeared as if it had been struck by a natural disaster.


    ¡°As if at any moment the waters would rise up and swallow it,¡± Roland agreed.


    Could I use this? A change in scenery meant a change of story. Roland nodded my way. I returned the gesture.


    ¡°It will serve for this voyage,¡± our guide stated, ¡°as it has done many times before.¡±


    The gangway retracted itself with an eerie creak. The Prince of Nightfall wandered away from us and stood beside the rotten steering wheel. All three of us shared a glance. Timbers groaned like a dying beast as we retreated towards the stern of the ship.


    ¡°Can you make it so we can¡¯t be overheard?¡± I asked Yvette.


    ¡°Can¡¯t do that,¡± she replied with a distinctly green cast to her features. ¡°We¡¯re so deep in Winter that he could break it at a whim.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t long before an unnatural breeze embraced the vessel. There was a mournful screech as it sailed onto the open waters. Ice floes drifted past our transportation.


    ¡°Put up a detection ward,¡± I pressed.


    That way we¡¯d at least know if he was listening. Yvette¡¯s hands trembled as she nodded. She leaned over the railing and emptied her guts. I walked closer and rubbed my hand against her back.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I asked.


    The ship rocked gently in the otherwise placid waters.


    Yvette shook her head. It wasn¡¯t surprising. I wasn¡¯t feeling too enthused about this myself, and I wasn¡¯t even seasick.


    ¡°No, no I¡¯m not,¡± she muttered. ¡°We¡¯re travelling on a strange ship,¡± she continued, ¡°neck deep in a land where our lives can be ended by the whims of that creature, and we¡¯re betting our survival on our ability to outmanoeuvre him.¡±


    Let¡¯s hope this isn¡¯t a re-enactment of the Titanic staged purely for our enjoyment.


    I pulled my glow back into myself as she traced silver lines into the air. Her hands trembled and each muttered part of the incantation sounded more forced. She leaned over the railing once again as she finished.


    ¡°Wizards shouldn¡¯t be on ships,¡± she complained, ¡°it¡¯s not natural.¡±


    I leaned over the damaged railing beside her. Roland did the same on her left.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find no argument from me,¡± he agreed. His brown eyes fell on me. ¡°There is something you wished to discuss?¡±


    Wind whipped through my hair, sending black strands flying every which way.


    ¡°The plan,¡± I stated. ¡°Our host wants to be free. The other fae want an end to their cycle.¡±


    And I hate that we¡¯re giving them both what they want.


    Roland folded his arms and pursed his lips before glancing towards the front of the ship. I followed his gaze. The Prince of Nightfall puffed a pipe by himself near the front of the vessel.


    ¡°Is this the course we are to chart, Taylor?¡± Roland inquired.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I empathized with him. Not just because I understood and agreed about how awful the fae were as well. What I wanted to try was beyond ambitious, but this was also the best chance we¡¯d ever have. I¡¯d already set out to accomplish the impossible. This¡­ wasn¡¯t that.


    ¡°It is,¡± I confirmed.


    It didn¡¯t mean that our goal wasn¡¯t improbable, but that we had a chance. We¡¯d come prepared to change the courts. This plan would require a little above and beyond that.


    Why couldn¡¯t the Winter fae have been happy instead? Then I¡¯d have no qualms about ignoring them.


    ¡°I have many misgivings,¡± he warned. ¡°It feels like a grave overreach¡±


    The breeze died away as the coast faded from sight beneath the fog.


    ¡°We can do this,¡± I licked my lips, ¡°even the angels think so.¡±


    It was so tranquil that it was only the reassurance of Yvette¡¯s magic that convinced me our words were not overheard. Our voices were the only interruption to the silence that had settled over the ship.


    ¡°We could use your first contingency,¡± Yvette¡¯s voice was almost pleading as she made the suggestion.


    Should we? No, it was too early. That could wait until we found ourselves cornered with no obvious out.


    ¡°We¡¯re aiming for the stars again,¡± I smiled as I spoke, ¡°but this time, we¡¯ll grab them.¡±


    With the hints about Summer¡¯s Sun, I expected that the grabbing might end up being more than a little literal than figurative.


    ¡°Ready to face the phantom haunting us?¡± Roland¡¯s shoulders slumped as conceded.


    Yvette still looked like she was suffering a fatal illness. I touched her gently on the shoulders. She gave me a shaky nod. The pulsing symbols dissipated in the fog.


    ¡°We are,¡± I replied.


    Roland examined my face for a few moments before inclining his head. I returned the gesture. Yvette leaned on my left shoulder as we approached our fae guide. I ignored the fact that the ship had become less battered over the course of our discussion. It was better not to allow Arcadia¡¯s foibles to unsettle me.


    ¡°For someone so grand,¡± Roland addressed the creature, ¡°you keep low company. Including this ship.¡±


    The Prince of Nightfall turned towards us and puffed a ring of smoke into the air, before emptying the pipe over the edge.


    ¡°The vessel fits my guests,¡± he mocked.


    ¡°It probably floats on pride alone,¡± Yvette muttered.


    I winced. Now wasn¡¯t the ideal time for Yvette to develop a rebellious streak.


    ¡°Freedom demands sacrifices from us all,¡± he stated with false modesty.


    I leaned against the railing while the two of them fenced with words. A violent wave sent spray splashing against my face. There was a brief flicker as my Light ate away at the offending Arcadian water.


    ¡°Thousands of souls sealed away in crystal spheres,¡± Roland challenged, ¡°your hospitality leaves much to be desired, Prince of Nightfall.¡±


    I peered into the distance. Something broke through the fog. Was that a tower looming on the horizon?


    ¡°They live out their lives in an eternal fantasy of their own making,¡± the creature mused.


    All of us tensed for a moment as the fae reached for his sword, only to relax when he used it to cut away at some rot on the railing. He leaned over the edge and stared up at the sky.


    ¡°If it is a bride who you can spirit away into a cell that you seek,¡± Roland continued, ¡°then you would do well to search somewhere else.¡±


    Roland and Yvette both walked up beside me. They stared at the shape looming in the distance. Dark figures circled in the cracked surface of the reflective ice below. I frowned at the broken mirror in thought.


    ¡°It¡¯s a far kinder fate than the one earned by most,¡± the Prince of Nightfall said blandly.


    The dangerous fae had talked of liberty and sacrifice. No, he¡¯d spoken of waters for some time. His gambit relied on a story of the sea somehow. What else did I have to work with? The Winter fae had stolen Summer¡¯s Sun. The ship was falling apart, and the fae were pretending to be ghosts.


    Is this some kind of ghost ship story?


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing kind about being imprisoned in a crystal ball,¡± Yvette snapped. ¡°Ma would never marry someone like you.¡±


    I shivered as the last of the fog died away. An imposing glacier jutted out on its own. The ship anchored beside a dock that had been carved on the foot of the ice. The shadow of a spire hunched over us all like a dragon¡¯s jaws in the distance. The gangway extended itself once again. We marched off the vessel together only a few heartbeats later.


    ¡°Let us speak of the dance between action and consequence, where every step seals a fate.¡± the Prince of Nightfall laughed. ¡°It was her decisions ¡ª not mine ¡ª that landed her in that sphere of glass.¡±


    I examined the spire closer. Its walls were made of literal dreams, but not the good kind. The kinds of dreams I had when I was at my worst ¡ª the temptations to hurt people ¡ª to take what I desired with no regard for anyone else¡¯s wants. The kind of dreams where I indulged in complete and utter excess. It was selfishness made manifest, crafted into a tower. It rippled from one dream to another ¡ª never remaining still for more than a moment ¡ª as if searching for a crack in my convictions. I shoved those feelings aside and returned my attention to the road. Our host continued towards it.


    Of course, he¡¯s taking us to a place made out of nightmares. Why wouldn¡¯t he? He¡¯s right at home.


    ¡°A choice made blind is no choice at all,¡± Roland replied.


    Could I use the story of Bluebeard¡¯s Bride to escape this story?


    The broader details were close enough. The trouble was that I wasn¡¯t sure if Creation had an equivalent for it. I guessed that it would throw me into one of Creation¡¯s stories of either a bride or a priestess if I tried it. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it was better than staying in whatever tale this was.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going back to that room,¡± I declared, ¡°I¡¯d sooner pray for deliverance than share the same fate as the others.¡±


    Snow danced around us and crunched underfoot as we approached the base of the spire. Nobody was comfortable. It wasn¡¯t long before all four of us climbed stairs of ice and reached the shimmering silver door.


    ¡°You¡¯re almost good at this,¡± the fae praised.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be good enough by the time we¡¯re done,¡± I asserted.


    ¡°Come now,¡± he smiled daggers at me, ¡°I invite you to join me for dinner in the Spire of Darkest Dreams.¡±


    I bit back an oath. Swearing wouldn¡¯t help me, even if it would be satisfying. What now? I knew that attempting to trap fae royalty in a story through conversation alone was perhaps overly ambitious. The King of Winter would definitely be out of my reach. But this? This was ridiculous.


    It¡¯s like I¡¯m trying to catalogue horses using a herbology textbook.


    ¡°That sounds less like an invitation and more like a warning,¡± Yvette whispered as she studied the tower from my right.


    ¡°No harm shall come to any of you while you remain within these walls,¡± he reassured us. ¡°However,¡± his lips were a razor, ¡°I cannot speak for what lies beyond.¡±


    That only meant he was planning to shove us out the building before he killed us if it came to blows. Or he¡¯d use delayed curses or poisons to inflict end us after we¡¯d already left. Or he¡¯d attempt to imprison me again. There were so many ways to do no harm while still making someone¡¯s life an absolute misery. I wasn¡¯t reassured at all.


    ¡°I speak for all three of us when I say that we accept this invitation under the condition that no gift shall bind us in debt,¡± Roland replied.


    ¡°Ask your leader if you don¡¯t trust my word,¡± he sighed in reply. ¡°Shadows and trickery won¡¯t claim the prize that I seek.¡±


    Roland turned towards me and I gave him a slow nod. The door opened. My boots echoed on the dark ebony floor. My shoulders stiffened. The inside of the Spire was surreal. It was more a dreamscape of twisting logic and illusions than a real place.


    ¡°Careful,¡± Yvette warned. ¡°This place feels like when I mess up a spell.¡±


    I turned around and let out my breath when I noticed the door was there. Whatever there meant. It was akin to a portal floating in the air. The interior walls of the spire did not exist. Clouds stretched out in all directions below us. I walked to the edge. The city of Skade was visible in the distance at what must¡¯ve been over a mile below.


    ¡°It¡¯s a trap?¡± I queried sharply.


    Frozen flames crackled in the hearth opposite the door. They cast flickering, jagged shadows that skittered like mocking phantoms along the platform floor. The misty smoke it precipitated floated up and coalesced as the cloudy outline of the floor above. Then, there were the stairs. I shook my head. It was no use trying to make sense of what I saw. There was a staircase made of literal rainbows that spiralled to the first floor.


    ¡°Not an obvious one,¡± she denied. ¡°The Spire changes itself to show our unconscious desires.¡±


    Lovely, just what we all needed.


    ¡°Your daughter is a credit to you,¡± the Prince of Nightfall praised, ¡°but it won¡¯t shift for the duration of your stay.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t even need a white van to win the creepy contest.


    ¡°Whatever that is,¡± I spoke as I peered towards the middle of the chamber, ¡°it¡¯s not dinner.¡±


    My gaze had settled on a sapphire table surrounded by four starlight chairs. Plates were set and laden with food, but that was not what caught my attention. A foot high, gloomy box that appeared to be coalesced out of midnight occupied the middle of the table. One that oozed malevolence. The Prince of Nightfall walked over to the table and set his hands upon the top of the casket. Wisps of darkness trailed through pale fingers and caressed at his chiselled features.


    ¡°That is a mystery best left for after you have savoured your meal,¡± he evaded.


    My thoughts raced. I bit back a smile. This was a story that I could use. Creation had the tale of Pandora¡¯s box. It was in a fair amount of religious scripture as well. That ¡ª if anything ¡ª made the story even stronger. The trick was to flip the fable in the direction that I wanted.


    ¡°I¡¯m curious what¡¯s inside,¡± I replied.


    All four of us sunk into the silky starlight seats. Roland took the chair on my left and Yvette the seat on my right.


    ¡°I think,¡± Roland muttered under his breath, ¡°that you¡¯ve opened enough boxes for one lifetime.¡±


    I sent him an affronted look before shoving him lightly on the shoulder. He grinned in return.


    ¡°There¡¯s always another,¡± I joked.


    I narrowed my eyes at the leg of lamb before me. It was served with garlic, rosemary, thyme and some other herbs that I didn¡¯t recognize with a caramelized skin. The dish looked incredible and was entirely wasted on me. My hand was halfway towards the silver fork before I realized that the food might be trapped.


    ¡°Heaven¡¯s forfend,¡± he groaned.


    I flared my aura for a moment. The surrounding illusion broke like glass as I examined the plate before me. The leg of lamb remained unchanged. The darkness around the container pulled back like a serpent coiled to strike. The walls of the building mutated under the intensified glow. No longer were we seated above a starlit sky. Instead, we sat inside an imposing tower.


    ¡°I ask that you refrain from miracles,¡± the dark-haired fae said irritably. ¡°No food offered to you tonight will be cursed or poisoned.¡±


    The intensity of my glow faded. I picked up the cutlery, then nodded at the others. They followed my lead. I didn¡¯t think that he would try to harm us that way. It would still be stupid to take the risk. We¡¯d only have ourselves to blame if we died to carelessness.


    ¡°I wonder if there¡¯s a way to make it safe,¡± Yvette whispered as she stared at the box on the table. ¡°There¡¯s so much I could learn from it. Perhaps if I¡­¡± her voice cut off as she took the first bite of her meal.


    If food could kill, then this would be the tastiest murder ever.


    The first bite was more indulgent than anything I¡¯d had at Cordelia¡¯s table. The meat was tender and far richer than I expected. The inside was moist. It had a buttery ¡ª almost creamy ¡ª texture that contrasted the crackle of the crust. My shoulders relaxed.


    ¡°My companions are road weary,¡± I said.


    The Prince of Nightfall gave me a too wide smile from the other end of the table before setting his glass down. I was certain that he didn¡¯t need to eat, so I presumed he did it for much the same reason I did. ¡°Truly?¡± he mused. ¡°Such a frail constitution for vaunted heroes.¡±


    I reached for my crystal glass. The creamy liquid¡¯s sickening sweetness provided an uneasy contrast for the verbal warfare we were engaged in.


    ¡°The circumstances are sure to be entirely coincidental and have nothing to do with your enchanted road,¡± Roland muttered.


    ¡°Naturally,¡± he agreed. ¡°The stewards will lead you to your accommodations once our discussion has concluded.¡±


    All four of us lapsed into a fragile silence that was soon broken by words from our host.


    ¡°Much has changed in the time since we last met,¡± the Prince of Nightfall mused.


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Even the Garden has been upended,¡± he taunted.


    I took another sip of the sickeningly sweet drink while mulling over his words. Stories had changed, but I suspected that the creature meant something more than that. I wasn¡¯t prepared to give him the satisfaction of me having asked. The stakes were too high.


    ¡°Evidently,¡± I said.


    ¡°The Court from Beyond the Stars knocks on the garden door,¡± the one-eyed fae gave me a sharp grin, ¡°they are eager to make their d¨¦but.¡±


    I swallowed forcefully. That was¡­ a whole other angle that I hadn¡¯t considered. Was the hypothetical Court something real now? No, he¡¯d said they were eager to show up. It implied that they didn¡¯t exist, but they could. Another piece of the puzzle slotted into my mind.


    ¡°I look forward to their arrival on the stage,¡± I answered our host.


    It wasn¡¯t long before we had polished off our plates and wiped down our hands on the napkins. A blue attired servant appeared almost as soon as the last fork was set down and whisked any evidence of our meal away.


    ¡°I trust that was ample time to whet your curiosity,¡± the Prince of Nightfall said as he stood and grinned from the opposite side of the casket. ¡°Step warily, lest you cut your own thread loose.¡±


    What should I say? I needed to be careful. No, I was making a mistake and assuming it wouldn¡¯t fit other stories as well. It was best to learn more details before I tried another gambit.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure there¡¯s a fascinating story behind that box,¡± I drawled.


    This was our best chance so far, and I didn¡¯t want to risk messing it up. The three of us had made no headway on our goals as yet. If anything, we¡¯d been played for fools. The Prince of Nightfall was skilled at dodging narrative traps. I hadn¡¯t really expected otherwise.


    ¡°The Midnight Casket was forged in ages past,¡± our host expounded, ¡°to contain Summer¡¯s Sun. The Gambit failed when it was tried,¡± the Prince of Nightfall raised a hand and closed it around some of the fog, ¡°like many others¡±


    This was both an opportunity and bait. Bait that I couldn¡¯t afford to not take advantage of. Trying to take the Midnight Casket would be stupid. We hadn¡¯t earned it. I had other plans.


    ¡°And this time it didn¡¯t,¡± I concluded.


    The creature gave me a tight-lipped smile.


    ¡°This time,¡± he leaned over the casket and whispered, ¡°it did not.¡±


    ¡°Are you asking me,¡± I took my chance, ¡°to open the box.¡±


    The room seemed to darken for a moment. Yvette and Roland both stiffened. I faced Yvette and inclined my head slightly. Her brow furrowed, before her green eyes widened.


    Now I need to hope she catches what I want her to do.


    ¡°You may do as you wish with the Midnight Casket provided it does not depart from this chamber,¡± a sparkle of mirth glimmered deep within the orbs of night embedded in the fae¡¯s head. ¡°However, your companions would not survive the devastation should you unseal its contents.¡±


    ¡°So opening it is dangerous,¡± I suggested once again.


    Come on, come on. I both need for the box to be dangerous and to have an established interest in opening it. That plays into both the Creation and Earth Bet version of the story.


    ¡°Most assuredly,¡± he acknowledged.


    I relaxed. I hoped that Yvette could pull off what we required here. Pandora¡¯s Box wasn¡¯t useful to us except as a stepping stone to somewhere else. It remained to be seen if she chose a narrative that we could use.


    ¡°Leave it, ma,¡± Yvette interrupted, ¡°opening it will only spell trouble.¡±


    What story was she attempting? That¡­ didn¡¯t sound like it was building towards an escaped prisoner story. Figures from the frozen fire formed into nightmare creatures that almost seemed to mock me as I contemplated the details of the discussion.


    ¡°It would be best for your continued survival,¡± the Prince of Nightfall drawled.


    ¡°If anything,¡± Yvette spoke quicker as she continued her gambit, ¡°you owe Taylor five favours to keep it that way.¡±


    There was an ominous crack as fingers of frost spread across the room from the foot of the table. Yvette and Roland flinched and stumbled behind me. I cast a protective Light across them.


    ¡°Even a fool knows not to presume so much,¡± our host declared.


    I ignored the insult except in the sense of the role it might grant me, and reflected on the situation. What did I have? A box with an unspecified danger inside. One that they were bargaining for favours to keep closed. Safe passage out of the lands of Winter would be the first step of our mission. It was something that a favour could buy.


    ¡°A fool she may be,¡± Roland¡¯s words came quick as he inched into the argument, ¡°but she alone among us dares the impossible.¡±


    Oh, she¡¯s leaning that way.


    ¡°You will grant Roland three wishes,¡± I interjected.


    The Prince of Nightfall looked like he was about to speak. I didn¡¯t afford him the opportunity. Creation had stories of Djinn granting wishes, just like Earth Bet did. They also didn¡¯t grant wishes. I suspected the story existed because of fae playing tricks on mortals, but that wasn¡¯t the point. The tale existed, and I could jam it down this abomination¡¯s throat.


    ¡°For three freedoms,¡± I continued. ¡°Freedom to right past wrongs, freedom to mend present troubles, and freedom from this same prison in the future.¡±


    My heart settled in my throat. I was making a bet. The raven-haired fae didn¡¯t know the story that I was invoking. I¡¯d already determined that he couldn¡¯t. He knew that I was compassionate and that I had a better grasp of the new narratives than he did. There was still an element of chance to the gambit, but I felt the risk was worth it. The Prince of Nightfall stilled and examined us carefully. The darkness pulled back and the cold retreated.


    Don¡¯t smile, Taylor. The monster could still put out another trick. It¡¯s not over yet.


    I nodded towards Roland.


    ¡°The first,¡± Roland began, raising his index finger, ¡°is the liberation of all those you¡¯ve either stolen, enslaved or barred from passage to the afterlife.¡±


    He¡¯s laying it on a bit thick here.


    The gloom twisted around us violently but remained at a distance.


    ¡°The second,¡± Roland raised his middle finger, ¡°is freedom for the three of us to journey the length and breadth of winter unimpeded until the turn of the season.¡±


    I stared hard at Roland.


    Come on, get the message. This is your story, Aladdin, not mine. I can¡¯t tell it for you, so don¡¯t mess it up.


    He caught my gaze and frowned.


    ¡°We will use that boon to the best of our abilities,¡± he sighed, ¡°to bring an end to the Fae cycle.¡±


    The cold fled from the floating floor.


    ¡°The third,¡± Roland raised the ring finger, ¡°will be used to break that which fetters you to Arcadia.¡±


    A cemetery of silence pervaded the platform. The Prince of Nightfall¡¯s eye narrowed and yet seemed to widen the more I stared at them. Two hungry abysses growing ever deeper, pulling us into their orbit.


    ¡°If only earning one¡¯s freedom was as easy as wishing for it,¡± the creature spoke wistfully.


    ¡°It could be,¡± Yvette interjected, ¡°if you allow it to be.¡±


    ¡°Many lifetimes have drifted by since I offered any concessions unbartered for,¡± our foe spoke icicles.


    Yvette shivered.


    I hugged her with one arm and swallowed the interruption that tugged at my lips.


    ¡°The price is in the asking,¡± Roland replied.


    ¡°I will grant you the second boon at no cost,¡± the pale faced prince conceded.


    ¡°The first and third remain unaccounted for,¡± Roland stated.


    The Prince of Nightfall seized the Midnight Casket under one arm and walked towards the rainbow stairwell.


    ¡°The first shall be withheld,¡± our host replied, ¡°until the condition for the third has been met.¡±


    The creature set a hand upon the grip of his blade. The edge pointed it towards me a moment later.


    ¡°If you wish to claim that which you first sought,¡± he gave me an uncanny grin, ¡°then prove the worth of your own word.¡±


    The Prince of Nightfall began to scale the stairs. He was halfway up when he turned towards us and let out an eerie laugh.


    ¡°If you wish to claim that which you first sought,¡± he repeated, ¡°then see to my liberation.¡±

 Elysium 7.0a

    ¡°A servant is eager to don their own fetters for a wage worth less than the chains that would otherwise bind them.¡±


    ¨C Extract from ¡°Bought and Sold no Longer¡±, a collection of the revised teachings of the Merchant Prince Mauricius


    <hr>


    The embers of revolution had spread like wildfire, scorching the paved arteries of Mercantis.


    ¡°Shall I play the dark echo to your thoughts once more?¡± his one-eyed collaborator inquired lightly.


    The Revolutionary strolled down one of the paved roads, side by side with one of the fae. Frozen footsteps trailed in its wake, and yet nobody noticed them or the proof of their passage. The Ravel Bank presented a pleasant front face to his cause that attracted avaricious merchants like flies to honey. It was those who toiled in the shadows that undermined the city from within.


    ¡°It is only by testing the metal of one¡¯s convictions in the hottest of forges that its worth may be assured,¡± Lennox clarified.


    Lennox knew that the creature''s words held less substance than ink on the page. They were said as part of a stage performance. However, even a mummer¡¯s farce could fan the flames that the Revolutionary needed to see that everything burned.


    ¡°I find little value is weighing that which is plain,¡± the creature pondered.


    The crowd parted. They were indifferent to Lennox, who moved in the background much like any other piece of the city¡¯s d¨¦cor. It was not their fault they were blind to him. The Revolutionary would frequently Fade when not ploughing the fields.


    ¡°Aqueducts like these,¡± he gestured with a sickly hand, ¡°they are veins that bleed wealth upwards while the roots shrivel. Do you think water tastes sweeter at the top?¡±


    The grand structure cast a pall over the branded who were huddled beneath its arches after their owners¡¯ failings. A cruel irony was etched into their hollowed faces as they sat parched in its shadow. They clustered around one of his many splintered hands on the street. The man shared bread that had been subsidized with illusory coin among those stricken with poverty. It was only one act among many that would see Mercantis burn. Often these acts of charity ended in violence. For once, cooler heads prevailed.


    ¡°Would you shatter the dam and call the drowning freedom?¡± the fae creature on his left murmured.


    It ran its fingers along the stall of a price gouger, then flicked them as if removing dust. The Revolutionary and his ally of circumstance reached one of the open markets situated partway between the wealthier parts of the city and the slums. Many stalls held nought but the wind. Some were laden with overpriced goods.


    ¡°The fields wither under the blight of greed,¡± Lennox countered indignantly. ¡°What good is a harvest if only lords taste its sweetness?¡±


    A finger extended towards a walking corpse that feasted upon the food with her eyes. The skeleton of a child huddled against her mother¡¯s leg as she argued with a monolith of steel and malice. One of the many vultures of the city doing their beast to turn those beneath them into carcasses for their own pleasure.


    ¡°Food distributed without regard spoils before eaten,¡± Larat tugged a midnight collar as he replied. ¡°It takes a careful hand to see it last the season.¡±


    Lines of disillusioned merchants mulled outside a gated wall that cut across the road ahead.


    ¡°See the gate ahead,¡± The revolutionary¡¯s hand extended forward as he spoke. ¡°Those men are nothing more than weeds in gilded armour, choking the flow of life. Beyond lies an empty field. One that is untended and unclaimed, starved only by their own greed.¡±


    The bronze statue of a past Merchant Prince seated atop an elephant sneered down at those who sought entrance to Forty-Stole Court, the Guild Exchange or the Princely Palace.


    ¡°Bandits would overrun the road were they not there,¡± his compatriot challenged. ¡°The fetters of society shield as much as they shackle you, no matter how much they weigh you down.¡±


    Lennox felt a swell of satisfaction burgeon in his belly as they drew closer to the statue. The words ¡®All Becomes Dust¡¯ inscribed into the side. Fellow travellers quickened as they passed beneath its gaze. He set aside the momentary urge to cast it down with his own hands. The time would come someday soon. He felt it deep in his soul. Much as he knew that the sun would rise at dawn.


    ¡°Monuments like this? They¡¯re stories written by the victors,¡± Lenox elaborated. ¡°Their cracks are erased, for their grandeur is a hollow lie.¡±


    The Revolutionary spared a moment¡¯s thought towards a letter that had found its way across land and sea and planted itself in his palms. The Tyrant of Helike had sent ¡°his dear friend in Mercantis¡± an invitation to his court. Lennox had yet to pen a refusal. There was an opportunity here. A chance for him to turn the madness of Helike towards his own ends. Lennox would topple the Tyrant with time as well. There was no government or institution that deserved to be spared the fires of his retribution.


    Not even one that served his ends.


    ¡°And yet they are also symbols that people draw strength from,¡± Larat said. ¡°The cracks would widen should the Merchant Prince be forgotten, and these roads would lie abandoned.¡±


    Lennox painted a palm atop a line of men and women clad in grey standing outside an estate on their right as they passed through the gate.


    ¡°Those servants stand barred unless their hands are needed,¡± he raised a heated fist as he pontificated, ¡°then blots away their freedom until the sum of their lives is spent.¡±


    A rune branded upon their necks would boil their blood should they fancy a chance at life beyond servitude. There was nothing of substance to be found within these blighted walls.


    ¡°Locks are as much a prison as they are a shield,¡± the Prince retorted. ¡°The frost claims all within the estate if you shatter the gates. Servants, master, even the hearth itself.¡±


    Words denouncing specific Merchant Lords had been engraved onto the wall leading into the Guild Exchange. The gilded doors lay open as they stepped into the building.


    ¡°This estate is no more than a blot on the parchment of Mercantis,¡± the Revolutionary said. ¡°A sombre symbol of what it values most. Profit, not people. Better to burn it to ash and write a tale worth living upon the embers, than leave it staining what remains of the book.¡±


    Crowds of merchants thronged and argued within the fortified bastion of their greed. Wards that had once barred entry to the fae had long since been sabotaged on Lennox¡¯s orders. Far be it for him to restrict his best tool¡¯s freedom of movement.


    ¡°I tire of my time here,¡± the Prince of Nightfall drawled and trailed his fingers in the air before him, ¡°the court beckons. I must answer its frostbitten call. See that your ruse does not fall to the predations of the West or the East.¡±


    The departure was not unexpected. Lennox had not discerned the rhyme or reason behind when the Prince of Nightfall chose to leave or arrive. The decision was unwelcome at this juncture. The creature often assisted in weeding out infiltrators within the revolution in exchange for mortal souls. A negligible cost when considering the long term value in maintaining a field bereft of rot.


    ¡°Then I bid you farewell,¡± he gave the fae a short nod before heading further into the room.


    Lennox ignored the many clamouring brephophagists and turned his attention towards a corpulent man who posed on a raised platform. The merchant pontificated on the dangers of dealing in coin from the Ravel Bank. The Revolutionary smiled as the man¡¯s words passed through the crowd unheard. He scoured the Guild Exchange until at last his eyes fell upon the damned. One who he considered recruiting. He¡¯d challenged the man to prove his worth. It was time for him to be judged.


    ¡°¡ªthink about this as a currency,¡± the Apprentice Salesman leaned forward conspiratorially as he argued, ¡°but instead as an opportunity.¡±


    The flaxen-haired youth sported an immaculate black and white outfit that had been tailored to fit him. Perfect white teeth shone as he gave his interlocutor an inviting smile.


    ¡°Procer and Praes both warn against the use of this currency,¡± the pot-bellied merchant replied. ¡°Why should I risk my wealth on money that holds no worth?¡±


    The merchant tugged at his extravagant green and gold shirt as he snorted his scepticism.


    ¡°Risk?¡± the Apprentice Salesman cocked his head and arched an eyebrow as he affected an air of surprise. ¡°Are you not a merchant? True wealth lies in seizing the opportunities that others hesitate to claim.¡± He licked his lips then continued feeding the man¡¯s greed in hushed whispers, ¡°just think: you could command the market while your rivals flounder.¡±


    The seeds of avarice glinted in the merchant¡¯s eyes for but a moment before being smothered once more by the stubborn weight of engrained caution.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be as indebted as half these other fools if that coin disappears,¡± he shook his head and scoffed.


    The Apprentice Salesman shook his head and plastered on a wounded expression.


    ¡°What about if I sweeten the deal with a guarantee?¡± he purred. ¡°Take the loan and invest it wisely,¡± he reached into a pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, running them through his fingers. ¡°Mark my words,¡± he explained, ¡°your rivals will come begging for scraps by the end of the year. After all, fortune favours the bold.¡±


    The merchant licked his lips and rubbed his fingers together as he watched the coins. The smile on the Apprentice Salesman¡¯s face didn¡¯t shift, yet the Revolutionary could sense his triumph.


    Yes, he thought to himself, this one would serve him well after all.


    <hr>


    Merchant Lord Mauricius heaved as he climbed the stairs of the Sub Rosa leading towards his favorite balcony.


    What he had at first believed to be nothing more than a minor counterfeit scheme that would fall apart in the span of a few months had grown into a problem beyond his wildest imaginings. Only expert sorcerers were able to deduce the difference between fae coins and regular gold or silver. Sorcerers who were unwilling to put their talents to dealing with what they termed ¡°mundane trivialities.¡±


    Some merchants had fallen back entirely on other means of trade for a time. It wasn''t long before those became compromised as well. Mauricius searched for a more permanent solution. He required something liquid which couldn¡¯t be easily duplicated.


    He stepped through the marble archway onto the balcony of the Sub Rosa. He found ¡ª to his mounting distaste ¡ª that he was not alone.


    ¡°Why do you haunt me like unpaid debts,¡± he complained with a wasteland dry tone while rubbing the sweat off his brow.


    There was a scarlet haired woman wearing a yellow sun-dress seated on the velvet chair opposite his own. She finished swallowing, then laid down her fork.


    ¡°Imagine the scandal if they saw us together?¡± she asked rhetorically while smirking at him.


    The Merchant Lord settled down into his chair and glared at her over the remains of a roast duck.


    ¡°And yet you arranged for a discreet meeting upon your arrival in this city,¡± he challenged as he cracked his knuckles and set them upon the table.


    It had been some time since Songbird had first darkened his door. The Proceran House of Light had sent a formal petition requesting for one of their representatives to meet with him. He had almost denied the request offhand, but his more mercantile senses had whispered of an opportunity to be seized. Besides, a creative punishment could always be purchased for her should she squander his time.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been snooping around,¡± Songbird shrugged and ignored his words as she wiped down her fingers.


    The meeting had proved fruitful ¡ª much to his surprise ¡ª and he¡¯d found himself an ally against the plague that had taken his city. The opportunity presented by the Ravel Bank had appeared novel at first. Then the scheme had not falled apart. Now the price of many commodities had begun to veer wildly. Once predictable rivals now made erratic trades.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    The political struggles within the Forty-Stole Court had become even more chaotic. He had expected the city of Mercantis to stabilize into a new normal after the span of a few months. It did not. Fifteen successive emergency sessions of the Forty-Stole Court had failed to elect a new Merchant Prince, and over half their number had perished due to infighting. Those who were raised to the vacant seats perished within a fortnight. The City of Bought and Sold was eating its own tail one day at a time.


    ¡°Did you stumble upon any new revelations?¡± he inquired.


    Procer was not the only nation to have shown interest in seeing the Ravel Bank¡¯s actions curtailed. Praes had also stuck its fingers into the coals of this raging inferno, only for their fingers to be burned. They had struck too late. Too many of the merchants within Mercantis had become reliant upon the fae coinage. They defended the Ravel Bank, blocking all action against its growing chaos.


    ¡°The usual,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Goldsmiths falter, masterless servants linger by the docks, posters are plastered on every other wall speaking of rebellion.¡±


    Mauricius had invested a small fortune into investigating the source of the troubles, only for his money to disappear down a dark hole. He¡¯d taken to investing into grain, silk and precious metals as well as other luxuries while the madness ran its course as a result. He had also shifted the focus of his foreign investments from trading weapons in the Free Cities to the Principate of Procer. The opportunity afforded by war in the Free Cities did not outweigh the risks of becoming reliant on Ravel Bank currency.


    Merchant Lord Mauricius furrowed his brow.


    ¡°You¡¯ve made progress on infiltrating the revolution,¡± he surmised.


    There was a lightness to her voice that he¡¯d come to recognize as a sign that there was more left unsaid.


    ¡°The Apprentice Salesman shifted schemes,¡± she explained. ¡°Take a look,¡± she gestured towards a pile of documents beside her.


    Mauricius clicked his tongue in understanding as he perused the trove she delivered to him. The Apprentice Salesman had been responsible for pawning off properties that he didn¡¯t own to people with fewer wits than Mauricius had expected. It appeared that he¡¯d abandoned his old game to promote the Ravel Bank. He smiled when he saw a note Songbird had made. A note that proposed they plant documents that implicated the Apprentice Salesman in running a plot against the Revolutionary after they¡¯d used him as a lever to find cracks in the revolution.


    ¡°Then we have a path forward,¡± he declared.


    Mauricius would advance his efforts to both undermine and denounce the actions of the Ravel Bank. Songbird would attempt to infiltrate the hidden part of the revolution. While both of them were certain there was some connection between the Bank and growing dissent within the city, neither of them had been able to discover the link.


    ¡°You tossed a few coins to the masses once, and look how they sang your praises,¡± Songbird¡¯s eyes flickered with mischief as she leaned forward and changed the topic.


    He reached towards a pitcher and poured himself a cup of mulled wine while her words rushed past him.


    ¡°There was more profit to be made in bribes from the other candidates than the cost I spent on the poor,¡± Merchant Lord Mauricius sighed.


    He concluded that this was another attempt on her part to sell him on ending indentured servitude within Mercantis.


    ¡°I spent some time plumbing the mind of Procer¡¯s newest hero,¡± Songbird noted.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been told she is unskilled at swimming these waters,¡± Mauricius mused.


    ¡°Quite true,¡± Songbird acknowledged, ¡°but her way of seeing the world is¡­ almost quaint. I¡¯d guess from listening to tales of the land she came from that servants who are paid are more productive than those who aren¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Are you insinuating that I would accrue more wealth through paying workers than I do through indentured servitude,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Humour me for a moment,¡± Songbird grinned, ¡°and think about this.¡±


    Merchant Lord Mauricius sat and listened while Songbird presented her argument. He wondered what she would appeal to this time. At least her words made for a fascinating diversion. No tugs on his heartstrings would see him moved. The only morals Mauricius adhered to were those which lined the walls of his vault with gold.


    <hr>


    Lennox froze mid-step. A glint caught his eye. His fingers twitched before he bent to pluck the coin, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger with a frown. Then the Revolutionary cast it to the side.


    The coin had no worth to him save for the ink it put to the page. The people¡¯s faith in gold had tarnished with time. Its allure had faded under the weight of lies. Merchants who were once eager to trade in coin now resorted to trading in other goods. It was a shift in the economy of the city which hindered the blossoming of the seeds he¡¯d planted, and the fault could all be laid at the foot of a single Merchant Lord.


    Merchant Lord Mauricius existed as a weed in his meticulously ploughed fields. A weed that refused to be plucked. The man had spread rumours about the illicit activities of the Apprentice Salesman, undermining his efforts to tempt the few more stalwart figures among the remaining Merchant Lords. The few guards who remained loyal to the Consortium scoured the city to apprehend the villain. An admirable adherence to their convictions that would nonetheless see them burn.


    The Revolutionary slowed as a heated argument blossomed into a fight further ahead. Desperate citizens attacking a black market profiteer. Nothing beyond what he¡¯d come to expect in his quest.


    Lennox veered off the main road and eavesdropped on the muttered complaints of a crowd clustered in the lee of a tower. It was time to test a new harvest. Some fields only bloomed when drenched in blood. It had taken some effort to find a sorcerer willing to remove brands from the city¡¯s indentured servants. That alone had provided him with an influx of supporters.


    The Revolutionary slowed as a figure atop the tower caught his eye. He smirked a moment later when they cast themselves over the railing. There was a satisfying squelch as their broken body fertilized the soil only a few moments later. Lennox approached the shattered carcass and examined it closer.


    Dead.


    Lennox spared not another thought before he continued his stroll.


    It was nothing more than another bloated merchant ¡ª fat on gold ¡ª collapsing under the weight of their own avarice.


    The city would drown in bodies before his work was done.


    His feet took him to an open plaza. A mob of disaffected citizens thronged on black and white tiles. Dissatisfaction had taken root within a handful of revolution cells in the past few weeks. His messengers were losing their way, and he had yet to determine why. Lennox was not prepared to see the seeds he¡¯d sown rot in the shadow of their greed. Better to throw more kindling into the blaze than allow the fires of revolution to dim.


    Lennox shoved his way past oblivious rebels and climbed onto a podium. The guards who patrolled this part of the city turn a blind eye to his activities. They had long been turned to his cause through purchased loyalty. One of the darker ironies of what occurred when everything was for sale.


    ¡°Is this enough for you?¡± he thundered as he swept his arm out towards the throng.


    He met the eyes of each person in the crowd, watching as their interest sparked. The veil he had once cast upon them vanished as he took to the stage.


    ¡°How many of you can afford to eat?¡± he asked.


    Silence fell as thousands of appraising eyes descended upon him.


    ¡°The Merchant Lords spirit the fruits of the earth away deep in vaults where they do nothing but rot while the workers who grew them starve!¡± he shouted and raised a fist into the sky.


    There was a hardened intensity buried within the eyes of all who turned his way. Lennox caught a glimpse of muttered disagreement near the back of the crowd. A crop of red flickered for a moment, then disappeared.


    ¡°They torture you for sport!¡± he shouted again while repeating the motion.


    The shoulders of a small army firmed as he spoke. His ears caught the muttered oaths from those who served among the Merchant Lords. They murmured of betrayals given, indignities suffered and possessions ¡°confiscated¡± by their rulers.


    ¡°They laugh while you die!¡± he bellowed a third time while pointing in the direction of the Princely Palace.


    An angry mob repeated his words.


    ¡°Do you feel it?¡± the echoes of his words whispered from the walls on the opposite end of the plaza. ¡°The ember in your chest? That spark desperate to ignite and consume the rotten foundation of their rule?¡±


    Now, his Name whispered to him.


    Now was the moment to Incite them.


    ¡°I ask all of you that live in the margins once again,¡± his voice rippled outwards. ¡°Is this enough for you?¡±


    The Revolutionary¡¯s smile widened as the mob returned his indignation.


    No.


    It wasn¡¯t enough for them.


    Mercantis was a book with no spine.


    Lennox could already see the pages falling apart.


    <hr>


    The wheels of the chariot rattled against the road as Merchant Lord Mauricius departed one of his many estates outside the city for the Guild Exchange, with four armed guards beside him. Hardly any among the richer merchants travelled without an escort these days. It wasn¡¯t long before he was beyond the walled safety of his own garden and out on the open road. He glanced through the window and grimaced at the eyesore that stained the view. Fabianus¡¯s mansion ¡ª once one of the jewels of the trip into the city ¡ª now lay in ruins. Squatters had taken up residence.


    Mauricius waited by the public gate, choosing not to use the private passages reserved for the wealthy. It was a calculated statement designed to build upon the respect he¡¯d earned among the peasantry. The chaos within Mercantis had become deleterious for his profits. It was time for order to be imposed. Merchant Lord Mauricius would campaign for the position of Merchant Prince once the city was secure again now that it was profitable to do so.


    Crowds parted as he approached the gate. The rabble roared his name in praise. They called him the common man¡¯s Merchant Lord. He waved out the carriage window in response. He¡¯d been popular among the mob ever since he¡¯d freed indentured servants working within his many ventures. That, and because Mauricius had sponsored bread distribution to undercut the Revolutionary¡¯s rhetoric. Little did they know that he¡¯d only made those decisions after running the numbers on his latest scheme to capitalize on the growing influence of the Revolutionary.


    He remained unconvinced as to the efficacy of the labour reforms Songbird had proposed. However, there were other intangible benefits that made them worth the cost. Both the trust and popularity he earned could be leveraged to encourage the people of Mercantis to buy into his newest innovation. It was a ploy that would fail without widespread adoption. One that he¡¯d invested much into the success of.


    Merchant Lord Mauricius made no choices save those which fattened his own purse.


    The carriage halted outside the walled enclosure separating the Guild Exchange from the more common rabble. Mauricius adjusted his cloak and huffed as he climbed out of the vehicle. His guards followed behind as he strolled towards the gilded doors.


    Six attempts had been made on his life by those who had bought into rebellious doctrine in the month and a half since Songbird had first set foot in Mercantis. His rise in popularity had undermined the Revolutionary¡¯s doctrine in a manner that made his continued survival anathema to the movement.


    The polished wood stairs creaked as Merchant Lord Mauricius ascended to the second floor of the Guild Exchange. He passed two of his rivals whispering to each other in a red leather booth and moved towards the gated podium overlooking the floor below. He handed the guards before the podium the permit that he¡¯d purchased. It wasn¡¯t long before they¡¯d verified it and ushered him through. Three sharp tugs of the purple silk rope beside him had the brass bell overhead let out a thunderous gong.


    ¡°If all of you would spare me a moment of your attention,¡± he cleared his throat as he addressed the assembly of Merchants.


    Numerous heartbeats passed before the raucous din that typically punctuated the Guild Exchange at last died down. Mauricius had paid the requisite fee to address the full gathering of the Guild Exchange. He would milk every moment of their time for what it was worth.


    ¡°Only six members of the Forty-Stole Court remain among the living,¡± he announced as he leaned over the gilded railing. ¡°Mercantis has no Merchant Prince. Rioters have taken to the street. Shipyards have been set alight and the people of Mercantis have lost faith in the value of coin.¡±


    Merchant Lord Mauricius pulled a steel token branded with an intricate series of markings out of the pockets of his green and gold jacket and raised it in the air.


    ¡°This token is a solution to our woes,¡± he paused for effect. ¡°I expect that many of you are confused by my revelation. You are asking yourselves how a circle of steel can restore order to Mercantis. Rest assured, that question and many others will be answered during the course of this demonstration.¡±


    There was nothing truly novel about the invention. It was a modification of an existing enchantment that he had commissioned from a talented Praesi sorcerer that had been provided to him full time by the Dread Empress. Malicia had a vested interest in seeing the fall of the Ravel Bank. She¡¯d deemed it more expedient to control the problem through him than by adding another ball to her juggling act. Mauricius was content to play the part provided it fattened his purse.


    Most of the complexity lay in adding deliberate layers of obfuscation to the final working. He examined the crowd below him for any hints of interest. None had taken root yet, but that was to be expected for any grandiose claims.


    ¡°This token uses a repurposed version of the brands we use to enforce servitude,¡± he explained. ¡°It was engineered to fulfil two purposes. The first is to prove the owner¡¯s identity. The second is to store and update a numeric value¡­¡±


    Merchant Lord Mauricius watched the eyes of the members of the consortium light up as he continued to both dive into the intricacies and extol the virtues of the token. It was nothing more than a variation on existing methods of banking backed by real gold. The enchantment ¡ª once set in steel ¡ª used for transactions wasn¡¯t replicable by the fae and thus any tokens produced by them would fail to trigger. Transactions were done through tokens instead of through coin or anything else, and were authenticated through a series of proprietary tools purchasable only from his new bank.


    Banking was a risky venture that Mauricius would¡¯ve remained away from less chaotic times. However, discord presented an opportunity. Mauricius was never one to turn away from new wealth. He¡¯d leaned on Malicia¡¯s sorcerer to authenticate his existing gold before establishing his new bank.


    Those who adopted the system were secure in the knowledge that any gold they traded in had real worth. It was unfortunate that the man claimed that providing such a service within the bank to others for a fee was a waste of his time. Sorcerers were truly blind to what mattered in the world.


    There were many ways he planned to capitalize on the trade upheaval that unfolded. Passing labour reforms to make newly freed workers dependent on his banking system would unfortunately have to wait for him to claim the position of Merchant Prince, but with time it was all but assured.


    It had been some time since Merchant Lord Mauricius had fought against such a stimulating opposition. He was under no illusions that this was the end of the game he played with the Revolutionary. No, it was nothing more than the start of another round.


    Profit remained his inocciduous guide. This contest of theirs afforded him the opportunity to fatten his purse. It was often claimed that there was nothing within the City of Bought and Sold which couldn¡¯t be purchased. Not even the city itself. Mauricius believed that he could put that claim to the test with enough time against his present foe.


    He eagerly anticipated the Revolutionary¡¯s next move.

 Elysium 7.03

    ¡°Heroes are often blinded by the very light that they wield. It follows from this truth that partway through the casting of a miracle is the ideal time to strike.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Terribilis I, the Thorough


    <hr>


    Something about the spire¡¯s interior unsettled me.


    The puzzle pieces in my mind spun circles while I tried to articulate what.


    It wasn¡¯t the two heavenly mattresses shaped from auroras or the dusky duvets woven from dreamless night that my two companions slept on while I kept guard. Nor was it the winter wardrobe. It wasn¡¯t even the veil embroidered from forlorn hope, or the cloak woven from the darkest woe, or even the crystal slippers made from dying anguish that screamed when I touched them hidden away inside.


    No.


    It was that the spire remained static.


    It had been obvious from the moment we¡¯d arrived that the tower was a trap. I¡¯d flared my aura a few times to ensure we weren¡¯t living in dreams. The fact that we were free was a warning. One that after a year of having scribes deconstruct stories for me was challenging to miss. So I read the portent that we¡¯d be coming back and filed it away for later.


    The hourglass flipped eight times while Roland and Yvette tossed in their sleep.


    I used the time to consider our next move from a starlight chair in the corner of the room.


    The original plan had been to enter Winter through Constance¡¯s Scar and earn free passage. We would investigate the war from both sides once finished, then attempt to push them into a final confrontation. I no longer considered that plan adequate. I¡¯d just about made up my mind on what to do when the other two woke up.


    Idly, I delved through the wardrobe further while I waited for them to finish taking turns freshening themselves in the adjacent bathroom. I didn¡¯t dig too deep in the closet. The faint possibility existed that I¡¯d end up in another world that way. A tempest sparked as I brushed against a wedding dress of cumulonimbus clouds. I¡¯d find its artistry tempting, if not for the storm goddess it¡¯d turn me into.


    The others emerged as Yvette set detection wards, and we discussed our next move


    ¡°We¡¯re adapting our old plan,¡± I paced while I talked. ¡°It won¡¯t work with our new goals. So we change it.¡±


    ¡°I thought you had no trouble with killing fae,¡± Roland brushed a hand through his curly hair as he replied.


    ¡°Not the problem,¡± I confirmed.


    Death was only temporary state of affairs for the fae. They didn¡¯t care about it. They likely didn¡¯t care about torture either. I was far more worried about what killing the fae would teach us about acceptable targets than I was about how the fae received it.


    ¡°Throwing out all our preparation sounds like it¡¯ll end wonderfully,¡± Yvette muttered darkly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t throw things out,¡± I repeated, ¡°I rebuild them better.¡±


    Streaks of Light appeared in the air around us as I painted out what we knew so far. The nascent Court Beyond the Stars, the fact that the fae didn¡¯t know the new stories but could be pulled into them. My growing suspicion that they had some kind of existing compulsion to play out their existing roles.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking a story with one final battle where both sides unite together against an outside threat,¡± I explained.


    Last battles had weight in stories. The kind which could be used to enact major changes. I¡¯d consider it unethical in other circumstances. Here¡­ not so much. I was prepared to blow up all of Arcadia if it got the fae what they wanted. They¡¯d even thank me for it.


    ¡°Perhaps your story of the Last Battle where King Tirian and Queen Susan unite in battle against the White Witch,¡± Roland mused.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I replied. ¡°We¡¯d probably need to side with the losing side to balance things out. Either way, we need to define the terms of our victory first.¡±


    ¡°This just ends with history repeating,¡± Yvette protested.


    ¡°Not if we¡¯re careful,¡± I disagreed. ¡°Ideally, we get to define their new restrictions. We want two courts devoted to good that differ only in how they achieve it.¡±


    ¡°Then our next step is to proceed as planned and visit Summer,¡± Roland smiled as he spoke.


    The Summer Fae would be able to detect the lingering trace of Winter from Roland¡¯s bargain. We wanted to leverage their expertise to search for any pitfalls we¡¯d missed.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I agreed. ¡°It also gives us a chance to learn more about their restrictions.¡±


    We continued to finalize our plans before deciding to set out. We soon departed the false sanctuary of the room. The rainbow staircase sparkled beneath our feet as we descended onto the ground floor.


    ¡°Ah,¡± the Prince of Nightfall hummed, then took a pull from a pipe before blowing a ring, ¡°the prodigal heroes awake at last. I trust your dreams were kind?¡± He stood with his back to us facing the flickering frozen flames and I could still hear the mischievous smile in his voice. ¡°Or perhaps you¡¯ve been dreaming all along.¡±


    I glanced towards Roland. He inclined his head an inch in return.


    ¡°We¡¯re awake enough to know when someone¡¯s angling for a repeat performance,¡± Roland folded his arms and leaned against my shoulder.


    Was the rainbow staircase shifting away from us? No, that lacked importance. I didn¡¯t know what story the one-eyed fae attempted to pull us into. Perhaps the myth of Cupid and Psyche? No, I didn¡¯t feel as if it fit. How about the children¡¯s tale of Rapunzel with the tower? That¡­ didn¡¯t quite fit either. No, I shouldn¡¯t dwell on this. We¡¯d bargained for free passage and weeping heavens we¡¯d have it.


    ¡°He just misses the audience,¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°The kind that doesn¡¯t walk out on him.¡±


    Not now, Yvette.


    I caught the echo of yesterday¡¯s smile on the creature¡¯s obscured face and grimaced.


    ¡°Who knows what might unravel if you aren¡¯t too careful,¡± I warned. ¡°We bargained for free passage, remember?¡±


    ¡°So soon?¡± the Prince of Nightfall mused. ¡°You¡¯ve only just woken and already you rush away. It¡¯s almost¡­ tragic.¡± An icy crackle from the fireplace punctuated his voice as he paused for effect. ¡°Or do you choose to linger, much like a good story? The end of one teases the dawn of another. What¡¯s one more dance between adversaries, hm?¡±


    ¡°We linger because you¡¯re blocking the door,¡± Roland challenged, ¡°not to stage another performance.¡±


    I ground together my teeth in frustration while I listened to them argue. The danger of allowing this to play out sobered me. The more we bantered, the further he might pull us into a story we couldn¡¯t escape.


    ¡°It¡¯s funny how he keeps fighting to have the last word,¡± Yvette whispered to herself as she surveyed the illusory city. ¡°He¡¯s a bad poet with no sense of pacing.¡±


    I swear I wasn¡¯t this bad as a teenager.


    ¡°We¡¯re heading to Summer,¡± I told the chiselled skinned fae before pointedly ignoring him and facing my companions. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my dear,¡± I could hear the villainous smirk from behind me. ¡°The road is long and lonely. Surely you won¡¯t object to my company along the way.¡±


    What? Why would he- No, you know what, no. Don¡¯t follow that line of thought, Taylor. It isn¡¯t worth pursuing.


    Engaging in a verbal spar that we hadn¡¯t prepared for with the one-eyed fae had defeat written on both sides of the page. The Prince of Nightfall had an upper hand that only grew more pronounced the longer we traded words. We were deep in Skade. We had prepared for a negotiation with Summer to check for lingering influences. Granted, we hadn¡¯t prepared for one where we had one of Evil¡¯s frozen manifestations hounding us, but¡­ I¡¯d rather improvise with that than walk blindfolded through this minefield.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I breathed out, ¡°It¡¯ll be easier to find another story to be rid of you on the road.¡±


    The others gazed at me as if I¡¯d grown a second head, before Roland¡¯s eyes widened in understanding. The menace in question passed me and through the door, and laughed whimsically as we trailed behind.


    ¡°That would be a sight to see,¡± the Prince of Nightfall drawled, ¡°considering the road bends where I will it to.¡±


    We conducted the trip down to the boat and across the glacial waters in silence. We mounted up and headed out of Skade in the opposite direction from where we entered less than a blink of an eye later. Pandora ¡ª the traitor ¡ª had been cavorting with an ebony unicorn.


    I waved my hand to the side as we stepped beyond the city gates. A ghost disappeared, and a length of wood with a truce banner at the end appeared between my fingertips. My eyes widened as my Name thrummed with life. This was my weapon. It became clear in retrospect, and surprised me that it had taken me so long to realize it. My fingers tightened around the pole instinctively.


    A prickle on the back of my neck warned me about danger as we passed through the Twisted Forest again. I furrowed my brow and took note of my surroundings. A stranger followed at the edge of my perception. Somebody who became better at avoiding my notice the longer I tried to focus on them.


    Remain calm and don¡¯t give away that you know they¡¯re there.


    My attention became diffuse once again. I didn¡¯t know the identity of our stalker or what abilities they had, but they were dangerous enough that they were confident to travel through Arcadia alone. Training them without knowing more about who they were sounded like a phenomenally bad idea.


    Time shifted into a dreamlike substance.


    Brief moments seemed to stretch on towards infinity.


    I had no idea how long we travelled.


    The temperature warmed as we passed out of the Twisted Forest.


    Dying wood gave way to sickly fields in the distance. Signs of the raging conflict were present all around us. Smouldering craters, a wilting withy of willows, frozen flowers and glassed over patches of soil.


    Should we confront our unknown follower? I glanced at the one-eyed monster left of me. He grinned at me from the back of his ebony mount in return. No¡­ I decided reluctantly. Better not to. I didn¡¯t know if it would become violent or how it would end. Being confident in my own survival didn¡¯t instil the same surety for the survival of anyone else.


    Everything is becoming so complicated.


    We passed beyond the sickly fields into the ravaged remains of a desert. White powder dusted blackened sands, and every so often the occasional cacti peeked out from between the otherwise glassy dunes.


    We spotted a black and white chequered bridge spanning a half frozen river between Summer and Winter in the distance. Frozen cacti lined our side of the divide. They were distorted into strange shapes and cast shadows that reminded me of ravens and crows. I stared upwards. Roiling thunderclouds clashed with an ocean of brilliant flames. I couldn¡¯t spot the faintest trace of sky at all.


    Reeds wailed, heralding unwelcome company.


    Considerations of our mystery guest faded to smoke as Roland, Yvette and I tensed.


    The red pavilion roof was the first sign of the madness that approached.


    My aura flared when I saw what arrived next.


    An opulent throne loomed from atop a massive dais. Fifty naked slaves carried it on their backs through the Summer wilderness. It peeked through the dying greenery as another ten marching ahead cut the fields of yellow down. Six animated gargoyles swivelled their heads towards us as their party marched onto the road.


    It took one glimpse of the Dream of the crippled boy on the golden throne to know that I¡¯d found my first nemesis.


    I stared at him


    He grinned.


    I glared at him.


    The grin widened.


    All we need now for this to be a Western is for a fucking tumble weed to roll down the-


    I cursed under my breath as a snowball rolled past me on my side of the bridge.


    I could almost hear the saloon music.


    This story did nothing for either me or my Gods.


    I needed to change it to something else.


    A woman with officer¡¯s stripes on her armour stood on the left of the ornate seat. I spared her only a moment¡¯s consideration before studying the opposite side. The familiar red haired figure of Princess Sulia clenched her fists and scowled from the right of the golden throne. She¡­ had no dream. What did that mean?


    I glanced away from the fae princess towards the sickly boy on the throne.


    Should I blast him off the chair and sort this all out afterwards? No, not yet. I bottled that up and set it to the side carefully. This slaver appeared confident despite knowing the face of his enemy. Confident enough that he lounged on the throne across the bridge from me without an apparent care in the world. It could be a bluff, but I was the one who would have to deal with the regrets if it wasn¡¯t. Who was he? What made him so brash?


    Use your head, Taylor.


    ¡°Beho-¡± the figure¡¯s arms raised in the air.


    Don¡¯t let him finish talking. His Gods appreciate this kind of panache, even if mine are indifferent towards it.


    ¡°Kairos Theodosian,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Is this your idea of a last stand, or just an act of vanity?¡±


    It had to be the Tyrant of Helike. He was a villain traipsing through Summer. There were many villains that could fit, but only one I believed had a motive to be here. Summer invaded Helike and here he sat before us.


    ¡°So you do know me?¡± he asked while slouching in his chair and pouting at the interruption. ¡°Your presence wilts flowers. Even puppies cry. It¡¯s impressive.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you should consider not being Evil if being around me offends you so much,¡± I commented.


    The gargoyles jeered.


    ¡°Not even my insufferable nephew had such a bleeding heart,¡± he derided me. ¡°Well, he didn¡¯t, until I ripped it out.¡± His eyes fell upon Roland, and he cackled before declaring, ¡°you¡¯ve even found yourself a page of your own.¡±


    ¡°What have you done to Princess Sulia?¡± Roland demanded angrily.


    My focus drifted from their conversation to the fields behind the Tyrant. Slaves and soldiers marched endlessly from the reeds. Their faces were marked by mixed expressions of loyalty and fear. It took conscious effort not to gawk. The sheer madness of it all fed my fury.


    Who marches an army into Arcadia? The casualty rate must be catastrophic.


    ¡°She¡¯s my wife,¡± the Tyrant said while drumming the shaking fingers of his one hand against the golden arm of his throne. ¡°We¡¯re happily married.¡±


    The Princess in question snarled at him.


    He could¡¯ve at least made the lie believable.


    ¡°Those slaves have unusual enchantments on them,¡± Yvette traced symbols in the air while muttering. ¡°Can¡¯t you feel it,¡± her fingers twitched of their own accord as she tilted her head towards Roland, ¡°those brands¡­ they do something when exposed to the Light.¡± Her attention shifted towards the villain on the throne. ¡°This sorcery is awful,¡± she sounded incensed. ¡°It¡¯s like it was done by a child with finger paints.¡±


    I stared at the slaves again for an instant before focusing on the Tyrant.


    ¡°They¡¯re my footmen,¡± Kairos¡¯s waved an ivory sceptre with a golden dragon¡¯s head before him as he spoke, ¡°you could call this my queen¡¯s gambit.¡±


    A knot of righteous wrath anchored itself within my soul.


    I clenched my fingers around the truce banner.


    He squeezed the ivory sceptre and cocked his head to one side.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    I imagined the faint outline of a Stetson ringing his head.


    I conceded to myself that he was exceptional at this.


    The monster killed what fun I could¡¯ve had engaging with the theatre. I found myself wondering if this is what Dragon felt when I held a school hostage in Arcadia. Or when I¡¯d pretended Imp had second triggered. Or what she¡¯d felt when¡­ Yeah¡­ I¡¯d been a really shitty teenager. A stab of sympathy, melancholy, and nostalgia for my long lost friend lanced my heart. I hoped that she¡¯d survived the end of the world.


    ¡°They¡¯ll die if we attack you,¡± I voiced my suspicion.


    There¡¯s probably something else to it as well. I¡¯d bet you gain something from the sacrifice.


    ¡°Quite right,¡± the madman¡¯s one malevolent red eye twitched as he cackled. ¡°You¡¯re more fun than I believed you¡¯d be to toy with.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the kid who never grew up from pulling the wings off insects,¡± I tapped the side of my leg as I replied from the back of my horse and reflected on what to do.


    Should I risk it? Perhaps I could heal them all before the brand killed them? The Tyrant reminded me of Jack Slash in some ways, only he had real charisma. Better to end this now than take the risk. I started to subtly spread out a diffuse cloud of Light.


    ¡°You do have a few limbs that need to be plucked,¡± he retorted while leering at me.


    The Angels leaned over my shoulders and warned me then. The brands would boil the slaves alive in under a heartbeat if they were interrupted by the Light. I detested the hollowness that accompanied that discovery. I couldn¡¯t strike him down or free them without killing them as well. Bile tinged the back of my throat as I released the Light. I¡¯d need to find another solution.


    ¡°Queen¡¯s gambit declined,¡± I scowled as I admitted that I wouldn¡¯t take the risk.


    Besides, he¡¯d have used the sacrifice to kill either Roland or Yvette. I¡¯m sure of it. I don¡¯t think that he can kill me, but he¡¯s the kind of person who will use his own death as nothing more than an act of spite.


    ¡°That¡¯s boring,¡± he taunted. ¡°Where¡¯s the swords and righteous rage? Come now,¡± he moaned. ¡°And here I¡¯d just said that you¡¯re fun.¡±


    ¡°You might be the worst person I¡¯ve ever met,¡± I told the Tyrant.


    I¡¯d met a lot of awful people in my time. People so terrible that exceeding their threshold for deplorableness was actually challenging. I suspected that he had the potential to outdo all of them.


    ¡°And you¡¯re the best person I¡¯ve ever met. It¡¯s nauseating, really,¡± he leaned forward as he insulted me. ¡°Tell me: Do you have the Book of All Things tattooed on your-¡±


    ¡°Rear so that whoever takes me from behind knows they¡¯re fulfilling scripture?¡± I interrupted. ¡°You¡¯ll need to find another joke. I¡¯ve heard that one at least five times already.¡±


    The jest didn¡¯t offend me nearly as much as it seemed he hoped it would.


    ¡°The people you teleported to must¡¯ve been mortified,¡± he said while laughing delightedly.


    ¡°It¡¯s worse when they¡¯ve hurt themselves in the bedroom,¡± I countered.


    That hadn¡¯t actually happened yet, but I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if one day it did.


    The Tyrant wheezed.


    Roland and Yvette were both looking at me as if I¡¯d been replaced by a demon. What? Just because I didn¡¯t banter all the time didn¡¯t mean that I didn¡¯t know how to.


    ¡°So,¡± he paused and leaned forward conspiratorially, ¡°do you?¡±


    Did I what? Oh, that. I was tempted to reply with, ¡®on both cheeks¡¯ but thought better of it. I¡¯d bet the Tyrant would insist on checking. Besides, there were more productive uses of my time than to exchange banter with this monster. Especially when I suspected that just being nice to him would be far more effective as a barb.


    ¡°Want a hug?¡± I asked, spreading my arms wide. ¡°Or a prayer?¡±


    The Tyrant of Helike froze for a heartbeat ¡ª and smiled after as if he¡¯d never stopped ¡ª but a heartbeat was plenty of time for me to notice the glint of fury that my words had evoked.


    You¡¯re not so unflappable after all, Kairos Theodosian.


    ¡°You¡¯re not as nice as you pretend to be,¡± he said with poisoned honey.


    I flinched.


    The Tyrant¡¯s grip on the sceptre loosened as he relaxed on his throne.


    ¡°Shall we trade,¡± I blinked as he continued and changed the subject. ¡°Sulia bores me. I¡¯ll take the Prince of Nightfall.¡±


    My skin crawled at the suggestion. Why did he want this? I narrowed my eyes at the Tyrant in consideration. I sensed something¡­ symbolic to switching partners here. The trouble lay in that I didn¡¯t know what he attempted to achieve. Especially when I suspected that fate considered him my opposite.


    ¡°You will burn one day for this, mortal,¡± Princess Sulia spat at him. ¡°There are devils who offend me less.¡±


    How did he even stop her from roasting him alive? Whatever he¡¯d done disgusted me, but I was still reluctantly impressed. He didn¡¯t have the advantages I did, and he¡¯d still stopped her from rampaging somehow.


    ¡°Who am I to deny our dear friend better company?¡± the Prince of Nightfall puffed at his pipe as he insulted Sulia. ¡°His choice is eminently reasonable.¡±


    Am I against switching partners?


    In theory, no. I didn¡¯t want the Prince of Nightfall following me around anyway. I could use this as a shortcut to speaking with the Queen of Summer without proceeding through a much more intricate piece of theatre.


    ¡°You are a better match for me,¡± Kairos agreed and gestured towards the bridge. ¡°I think it¡¯s time for the pieces to return to their rightful place.¡±


    ¡°You amuse me,¡± the Prince of Nightfall directed an eerie laugh towards the child on the throne. ¡°Do try to survive the game. I¡¯d hate to clean up another King¡¯s mess.¡±


    I considered the one-eyed fae¡¯s words with care, then reflected on everything Kairos had said. It appeared as if they were shifting this into a shatranj metaphor. Something similar to the story of the Chessboard of Fate. Could I use this? No, not this story specifically, but¡­ my heart leaped at the realization.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a prissy priest,¡± Kairos drawled. ¡°The devils always claim the last laugh.¡±


    You can have this win. Your victory here won¡¯t mean much once we set the board ablaze.


    I met Roland¡¯s eyes, then glanced towards the Prince of Nightfall. He followed my gaze.


    Come on, come on, come on.


    Roland stiffened.


    ¡°Beware, Tyrant,¡± Roland declared, ¡°we will free them all from your vile clutches.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m quaking in my boots,¡± the youth mimed the act while mocking Roland.


    ¡°Nobody shall be left under your spell,¡± Roland continued, ¡°not even the Prince of Nightfall.¡±


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Kairos Theodosian drawled with a smile as sharp as a blade, ¡°he¡¯s mine now.¡±


    You¡¯re not as clever as you think you are, Jafar.


    I bit down on the smile as triumph surged through me.


    ¡°The first game is yours,¡± the words tasted like ash as I conceded the fight.


    Both of my companions appeared as upset as I felt.


    ¡°Oh, Taylor,¡± he tutted. ¡°The first game hasn¡¯t started,¡± he sniffed and waved his now steady hand disdainfully at me. ¡°In fact, we¡¯ve yet to play the first move. Now: Scuttle off the road, will you?¡± he cocked his head and giggled again. ¡°Unless you¡¯d prefer for them to die from exposure?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll excuse me if I don¡¯t applaud your retreat,¡± I retorted.


    ¡°Oh, but you will,¡± his voice took on an ominous edge, ¡°everyone will applaud when the curtain falls,¡± there was a thunderclap as he waved his sceptre, ¡°whether they want to or not.¡±


    Our party grudgingly moved to the side of the road while the Tyrant and his entourage crossed over the bridge. The gargoyles blew raspberries as they passed. I forced myself to meet the hollowed out slaves in the eyes as they departed. To see the face of the monster I fought. It was nothing that hadn¡¯t already existed on Earth, but my instincts screamed that the Tyrant only needed the opportunity. I¡¯d known at the back of my mind that there were shades of Evil in Calernia up there with the worst I¡¯d seen on my old world. I wasn¡¯t sure if the Tyrant had done anything that atrocious yet, but I knew that he would do worse if nobody brought him to task.


    This isn¡¯t the end. I¡¯ll free you and stop him.


    A justifiably angry Princess Sulia dressed in nothing more than vines and flames flew over to us, while the Prince of Nightfall took her place.


    ¡°You will be spared the wrath of Summer if you swear yourself into our service, mortals,¡± Princess Sulia¡¯s lips curled into a sneer as she tried to assert ownership of my friends.


    She didn¡¯t even glance my way.


    ¡°We come under a flag of truce,¡± Roland argued.


    ¡°I can sense the taint of Winter upon you, pest,¡± she slandered my friend in a haughty voice, ¡°be thankful that I even offer you this much.¡±


    ¡°The Winter fae tricked me into a bargain,¡± Roland lied. ¡°I seek the guidance of Summer in escaping it.¡±


    Sulia¡¯s lips parted. I decided to insert myself into their discussion. I had a hunch. An unsubstantiated feeling that I bet would ease our progress. I wouldn¡¯t normally upset an existing plan, but this called for an exception.


    ¡°They are under my aegis as part of my court,¡± I told her.


    The fae looked as if she¡¯d swallowed a whole bag of lemons.


    ¡°Why do you bargain with those abominations?¡± she inquired. ¡°Their touch should offend you as much as it does us.¡±


    ¡°It does,¡± I agreed. ¡°That is why we have come to your borders to negotiate.¡±


    The Princess of High Noon¡¯s body language fluctuated between furious, confused, and relaxed for a few moments. It took effort to mask my mirth. I nodded to Roland. He stepped forward and began to negotiate with her. Part of my regard remained fixated on their back and forth, while the rest remained fixated on the army.


    There were¡­ thousands of men and women marching through Arcadia. Not just soldiers, but also slaves and camp followers. I stared as madness reared its ugly head. Complete and utter madness. The fervour in their eyes stoked the fires of my anger more than anything else. These people were devoted to this monster.


    They shared the same devotion I possessed for the Gods Above.


    Roland¡¯s attempt to placate Princess Sulia proceeded far smoother than I expected now that I¡¯d intervened. Her apparent absence of narrative awareness surprised me. Roland sold the story of the poor hero taken advantage of by the Prince of Nightfall with minimal fuss. I felt metaphoric pain seeing how easily Roland could soothe her wounded ego.


    She was eager to assert her superiority and tell him about the details of the agreement.


    ¡­ I hoped that the Queen of Summer didn¡¯t consider it rude when we asked for a second opinion.


    We crossed the bridge behind the Princess as the last of the Tyrant¡¯s army disappeared into Winter.


    The ice faded away.


    Winter dissolved into a fragile mirage behind us.


    A heightened awkwardness stole over the journey. Princess Sulia tried to engage me in conversation a few times. She ignored the existence of everyone else. I did my best to listen but cared little for what she said. She only spoke about war. War, war, and more war. It took what must¡¯ve been hours of navigating that swamp of zombies before she abandoned the topic.


    I¡¯d never met such a poor conversationalist.


    I wasn¡¯t even that bad after my mother died or after Emma had broken me down.


    Desolate plains gave way to lush fields.


    My thoughts turned towards both Kairos Theodosian and our concealed follower once again. Both of them had added themselves to the fragmented enigma I assembled in my mind. The follower had no hostility towards us. I was certain of it. However, they were using us as some kind of¡­ keystone to search for somebody else. Determining how to account for them would likely prove pivotal.


    Fields became orchards.


    Our stalker disappeared when I tried to approach.


    Not hostile, but not friendly either.


    It left me uneasy and I dropped further attempts. They were dangerous. I wouldn¡¯t be providing them with the opportunity to learn how to avoid the Light unless I knew they were on my side.


    The Tyrant presented a much thornier problem. I suspected that he attempted to run a scheme with the fae contrary to my own. He¡¯d be in bed with the King of Winter as soon as I¡¯d arrived at Aine. It shouldn¡¯t have surprised me that I couldn¡¯t have a goal with no clear antagonist. It still felt akin to having a wet blanket being tossed over the fires of my ambitions.


    Not knowing what his Sins were didn¡¯t help me at all. He was a Tyrant, so he¡¯d have something like Rule, or Coerce, or Manipulate. He was also my opposition, which meant¡­ maybe he had a twisted version of Dream? Could Nightmare be a Sin? I¡¯d need to think on it. I had no idea what his third Sin would be. The thought of seeing any of them filled me with dread.


    My mind returned to our plans. Some adjustments would be need to be made to our existing fallbacks. The second contingency wouldn¡¯t function in its current form and would need to be adjusted. Blowing up Arcadia when there were who knows how many thousands of living people traipsing through the countryside wasn¡¯t acceptable. The first contingency would probably need to be used, and I hoped we didn¡¯t go past two because then we were in uncharted territory.


    A welcoming city beckoned to us in the distance.


    It surprised me to discover that the Summer fae were not experimenting with their cage. What made them different from Winter? It appeared as if they only played out the tales they already knew all the steps for. They flocked and frolicked and danced to a frenetic beat beyond the realm of my hearing.


    Joy.


    Frenzy.


    Complete and utter madness.


    I ignored the rhythm and instead paid attention to the fae themselves. There were no dreams. None at all. I travelled through an entire society where every single person had given up hope. Profound unease ate at me. They were a people who reminded me of a book with no pages, a house with no residents, or a blade with no edge.


    I hadn¡¯t believed that I¡¯d see something worse than Winter.


    I imagined that existing as a fae was equivalent to living alone in a hyperborean hell with nothing more than a candle to survive with.


    Summer had snuffed the candle out.


    We passed beneath verdant walls manned my creatures clad in silk and steel who stood beneath red pennants trailing in an immaterial wind. I drank in the sight of the surrounding city. It lacked the both the coldness and intricacy of Winter, but just as beautiful despite its absence. I bitter smile graced my lips as I examined the spires of wood and leaves reaching towards the fiery heavens.


    Soon I lost interest in examining my surroundings for anything more than their narrative weight.


    Arcadia is an entire realm spun from the threads of tragedy.


    We were guided into a private garden housing flowers, shrubs, and trees of every variety imaginable. Firs grew beside Acacias grew beside Jacarandas. No rhyme and reason governed what we saw. I could find no hint to explain their arrangement.


    Then the flora switched from realistic to downright bizarre. Poppies that sang lullabies, trees dripping in golden sunlight and fungal abominations that changed shape whenever I looked away. It reminded me of Alice in Wonderland, but I doubted we¡¯d be playing into that story. Not unless Summer started experimenting beyond their past.


    Has all the strangeness I¡¯ve already seen inured me to this novelty?


    Princess Sulia left us waiting at a wooden table that looked grown out of the earth itself. A wooden teapot and cups sat atop the surface. None of us dared to pour ourselves something to drink.


    ¡°Remember the plan,¡± I whispered to the others.


    Both of them nodded.


    ¡°This place is so beautiful,¡± Yvette breathed out.


    ¡°It is,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let the scenery cloud your senses,¡± Roland warned.


    ¡°We won¡¯t,¡± Yvette assuaged his fears. ¡°Do you think we could paint a picture of it later?¡±


    ¡°We can,¡± I confirmed.


    We lapsed into an easy silence.


    Now came the risky part. Running a scheme on the Queen of Summer wouldn¡¯t be easy, but we had to at least make the attempt.


    ¡°Much has changed,¡± a soft voice said, ¡°and yet the underlying nature of the Garden remains the same.¡±


    My fingers tightened around the truce banner. A young girl with tanned skin and loose golden curls appeared before us out of nowhere. She had broad shoulders and couldn¡¯t be older than fourteen. Her hands had the lines and calluses of a farmer.


    There was nothing remarkable about her.


    ¡°I greet you, Queen of Summer,¡± I inclined my head.


    She has no Dream, either.


    That terrified me more than anything else.


    Two more voices echoed my own.


    ¡°I bid you welcome to Aine,¡± the Queen of Summer greeted us, ¡°may Summer grant you repose from whatever troubles lie beyond our mighty walls.¡±


    Her voice carried a gentle tone ¡ª a hymn composed by the rustling of leaves in the wind or the breaking of twigs underfoot ¡ª that sounded utterly terrifying in its simplicity. The underlying presence of it hinted at the futility of fighting. It felt as if the entire world had been squeezed into a straw and fought to force its way back out. Or like a steady mountain waiting to crush us under the weight of time alone.


    ¡°The Garden is an exquisite tapestry,¡± Roland remarked. ¡°Time may unravel it, and yet a new tapestry may always be woven.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s moving?¡± Yvette muttered under her breath. ¡°The pattern¡¯s moving,¡± Her head jerked around as she examined something that I couldn¡¯t see, ¡°or am I moving? No, definitely the pattern. Oh! Maybe if I adjust the fifth and the third sigil of the-¡± her voice cut off as I laid a palm on her leg.


    Now isn¡¯t the time to experiment.


    ¡°I see the shape of the tale you weave,¡± brown eyes met my own as she whispered to us, ¡°the story will correct itself.¡±


    She was humouring us. She was actually humouring us! My heart jumped into my mouth for a few heartbeats. It¡¯d taken little observation to realize that she didn¡¯t need to play along with us. That she could find a way out of any story we wove if she was inclined to, and squish us like bugs underfoot.


    ¡°The tangled patterns of old vines may yet be woven into something new,¡± Roland replied.


    ¡°Arcadia is nothing more than a complicated spell,¡± Yvette interjected. ¡°I might not know how to repurpose this one, but that doesn¡¯t mean that it can¡¯t be done.¡±


    ¡°Defter hands than yours have tried,¡± the Queen of Summer commiserated.


    I almost made a costly mistake when she plucked a rose from somewhere and set it into Yvette¡¯s golden locks.


    It isn¡¯t a threat. She¡¯s nice. She¡¯s nice. She¡¯s nice. Just terrifying as well.


    ¡°Every story begins with a new page,¡± Roland pressed, ¡°allow us to plant seeds where none thought they could grow.¡±


    I swallowed my smile when I noticed the faint outlines of a Dream blossom within the Queen of Summer. She must¡¯ve been right on the edge of believing. Close enough that only a small push provided the momentum she required to find hope.


    ¡°Sorcery that doesn¡¯t adapt fades away with time,¡± Yvette muttered, ¡°the same is true with the changing of seasons. Summer doesn¡¯t need to stay the same. Why, we could-¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± the Queen of Summer interjected. ¡°There is little to be lost in the trying.¡± Her eyes sparkled. ¡°You wanted something to remember this place, little one?¡± she asked Yvette.


    All three of our faces drained of colour.


    ¡°Oh, no. No, no, no. I¡¯m fine,¡± Yvette stammered.


    We¡¯re fine. We¡¯re fine. We¡¯re fine.


    I squeezed her hand gently.


    ¡°You ask me to gamble on this folly,¡± our host¡¯s voice rustled through the garden as she focused on me. ¡°Let us discuss the terms.¡±


    Careful, Taylor.


    The adjustments we¡¯d made to our plan involved taking on a quest.


    One that wouldn¡¯t be easy to fulfil.


    ¡°We seek three boons in exchange for retrieving Summer¡¯s Sun,¡± I declared.


    I raised my index finger.


    ¡°The first is a key that has always existed and will always exist, forged from the flames of Summer,¡± I almost stammered as I began speaking, ¡°and infused with the memories of Summer¡¯s victories from years long past.¡±


    I raised my middle finger.


    ¡°The second is knowledge of both your present restrictions and duties,¡± I continued.


    I raised my ring finger.


    ¡°The third is your aid in drafting and clarifying terms that satisfy my sensibilities, which will dictate the future existence of two new fae courts,¡± I finished.


    An oppressive silence descended upon the otherwise tranquil garden. I held my breath and examined the brown eyes of the absolute terror I negotiated with. She clasped her hands before her on the wooden table and blinked.


    Then, she spoke again.


    My mood soared.


    ¡°Bargain struck,¡± the Queen of Summer agreed, ¡°but should the flames consume more than they create, it will not be my hand that quenches them.¡±

 Elysium 7.04

    ¡°The only thing worse than immortality is immortality with bad company.¡±


    ¡ª Attribution unknown.


    <hr>


    Roland and Yvette had spent some time recovering in Aine from our previous trip before we were on the road again. I would have been in high spirits if it weren¡¯t for an unexpected addition to our party.


    Princess Sulia had decided to attach herself to our band and brought an entire army of golden skinned flying fae along for the journey. I¡¯d guess there were around eight-thousand of the winged terrors behind us, and they were nothing more than the vanguard. More Summer fae were out of my sight. I hadn¡¯t the faintest clue what to do with them.


    ¡°We¡¯d move faster without your mortal baggage,¡± Sulia sneered, her fiery hair crackled as she loomed over my shoulder.


    Sulia no longer questioned me about war. It could¡¯ve been a pleasant change if not for the fact that she¡¯d chosen to denigrate my friends instead.


    ¡°They¡¯re my friends,¡± I gripped the truce banner tighter as I replied.


    The two heroes ignored her, and I couldn¡¯t blame them for leaving me with Sulia. She treated me as an equal¡ªbut only in the loosest sense of the word.


    ¡°These mortals are a liability,¡± she insulted my friends.


    Pandora tossed her silky white mane to the side like a banner trailing in the wind and snorted in disapproval.


    ¡°They¡¯re fine,¡± I responded.


    Winter had crept further into Summer¡¯s lands, turning green fields to frozen wastelands.


    ¡°Both of them are cut from a lesser cloth,¡± she dismissed, ¡°you hamper yourself to protect those spun from little more than glass.¡±


    ¡°Sounds lonely,¡± I commented offhand.


    A minor fraction of my focus was spared for the flaming Princess. I didn¡¯t care to hear her demean Roland and Yvette. I only deigned to answer her because she was too dangerous to otherwise risk offending.


    ¡°The passage of years will lead you to forget what it is like to be mortal,¡± she buzzed at me. ¡°You will calcify into a cycle of your own.¡±


    I¡¯m counting the seconds until I can stop enduring this winged disaster.


    ¡°Then I should make the most of now,¡± I muttered back while gazing longingly at the horizon.


    Sulia almost makes me long for the Prince of Nightfall. He¡¯s pleasant in comparison.


    ¡°You are beyond the trappings of time,¡± she argued, ¡°why do you bind yourself to those who will fade within a fraction of your years?¡±


    It frustrated me how I could actually benefit from a nuanced perspective on immortality. The Princess of the High Noon¡­ wasn¡¯t that. I¡¯d be tempted to interrogate the Queen of Summer if her presence didn¡¯t terrify me. That remained true for all the fae that I expected had more encompassing philosophies. I¡¯d drag the Wandering Bard to a corner and pull some answers out of her the next time she showed up.


    ¡°Should do more with them,¡± I countered.


    Keep it together, Taylor. One war at a time. Just because she¡¯s been at it like this for at least five hours is not an excuse to blow up part of Arcadia. Remember the army in the sky behind you.


    ¡°Without them, we¡¯d already be at Skade¡¯s walls,¡± Sulia snapped with a tone sharp enough to draw blood.


    Perhaps I was being too judgemental of little miss murder machine. I¡¯d spent so long verbally sparring with people who veiled their words at least three layers deep in metaphor that I did find her flavour of bluntness refreshing. It was a pity that this hammer wasn¡¯t attached to somebody with a nice head. Everything that came out of her mouth was vitriolic.


    ¡°Aha!¡± Yvette exclaimed, ¡°I¡¯ve figured it out.¡± She looked at our confused faces and bit her lip, then coloured. "Not the time things. Or the Winter things. Or the Ratling things. The brands. They can be disabled. Now I wonder if¡­ No, not like that? Can I use it with-¡±


    Bless her heart.


    ¡°Yvie,¡± I smiled and interrupted her, ¡°focus. Slave brands?¡±


    ¡°I can disable them,¡± her eyes roamed across the tempestuous sky as she confirmed my suspicions. ¡°It¡¯ll take some work to cast, but I figured it out. At least, I think I did. I¡¯ll need to test on one of them to be sure. Now, if only I could-¡±


    My shoulders relaxed a small amount at the news. I¡¯d find a way for her to verify that. We wouldn¡¯t be allowing the Tyrant to escape in the future.


    ¡°You should teach your pets not to speak out of turn,¡± Sulia¡¯s wings flared as she interjected. ¡°It reflects poorly on you when they don¡¯t know their place.¡±


    I¡¯ve had enough of listening to her tear down good people.


    ¡°They¡¯re not my-¡± my voice cut off.


    Something felt off. I stared across the chequered bridge beyond the frozen cacti and the mounds of snow towards the fogged over horizon. Leaping lions, laughing foxes and other strange shapes traced themselves in the mist. Light spilled out from my eyes as I focused. Arcadia crystallized into something more real for a moment.


    ¡°Look,¡± I pointed as I changed the topic, ¡°Winter¡¯s army.¡±


    Winter¡¯s army advanced in crooked ranks. Deadwood fae marched with jagged limbs creaking as they moved. Their hollow eyes glowed faintly, casting eerie shadows on the frost-covered ground. Pale winged figures supported them in the sky. I¡¯d never been relieved to be facing down an army before. The novelty would wear off momentarily, but for now I allowed myself to relax. Their arrival prevented me from making a costly mistake.


    Sulia¡¯s lips curled. Her wings twitched with agitation as she spun towards her soldiers. She raised her hand and opened her mouth when I spotted a familiar one-eyed fae with a midnight black box under one arm. His other hand rested upon the hilt of his blade. Suddenly, he turned towards me and gave me a malevolent grin.


    ¡°Sulia,¡± I cautioned her, ¡°the Prince of Nightfall is here.¡±


    I cursed under my breath while I scanned the ragtag arrangement of Winter¡¯s forces. There were no other credible threats to the Princess of High Noon. I required the Prince of Nightfall alive to fulfil my bargain. While in theory I wouldn¡¯t need to uphold my promise if he perished, in practice that line of thinking had villainous leanings. I wanted my word to be worth something.


    ¡°His presence is anticipated,¡± she began, ¡°it is imperative that-¡±


    Sulia could kill him. She had all the tools to win a direct confrontation. I also couldn¡¯t afford to betray her for more than just moral reasons. Could I use this? Ditching Sulia appealed to me. The three of us had free passage into Skade and she didn¡¯t. We¡¯d need to check that the Midnight Casket first, but¡­ I¡¯d guess the Sun had been relocated.


    ¡°Truce banner,¡± I interrupted and raised the object in question, ¡°remember?¡±


    Maybe if I framed it right? I needed to set the stage for a story that favoured Summer, but had the potential to favour Winter if Summer broke their word. I didn¡¯t have a guarantee that it would work, but it was my best chance to untangle this mess without burying my own plans six feet under the ground.


    ¡°An easily rectified oversight,¡± she spread her wings as she dismissed my words.


    Come on.


    ¡°He has the Midnight Casket,¡± I pressed, ¡°we can negotiate.¡±


    The Prince of Nightfall had no reason to allow Summer¡¯s Sun out of Skade. I didn¡¯t understand the shape of the story, but it provided a potential solution to my issue.


    ¡°Even better to strike soon,¡± Princess Sulia¡¯s eyes hardened as she argued. ¡°It is a pointless delay. The Prince of Nightfall is capricious and would never accept a trade.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t see the Tyrant or his army at all. He should be here. The story had room for him to sweep in at the last moment and rescue Winter from Summer¡¯s forces, and I couldn¡¯t see him at all. I guessed he expected that we¡¯d find a counter to his last trolley problem and decided to find a new set of tracks, but¡­ that didn¡¯t fit my understanding of him. The Tyrant wouldn¡¯t flee. I set aside my unease. I couldn¡¯t do anything about any plots we were trapped in at present except for trying to decode them.


    ¡°Set a trap,¡± I cajoled.


    I¡¯ll be careful.


    ¡°We field a superior host,¡± she scowled as she retorted, ¡°we don¡¯t need to resort to such trickery.¡±


    The faintest of pauses before her refusal exalted my efforts. Summer was the season of war. Strategy and Battlefield tactics were their element. She¡¯d accede to my request if I proved it had even a sliver of strategic worth.


    ¡°New stories,¡± I urged her again, ¡°you might lose.¡±


    ¡°The open field is Summer¡¯s dominion. We do not lose. We scorch the earth before defeat takes root,¡± she denied.


    The unsteady beat of her wings gave the lie to her certainty.


    ¡°Midnight Casket never worked either,¡± I pressed.


    ¡°The success of one old scheme says nothing about the validity of another,¡± she countered, but settled down on the ground beside me.


    ¡°See that heap,¡± I pointed at one of the mounds of snow. ¡°We don¡¯t know how many flecks of snow it¡¯s made of. One, two, three¡­ a hundred. Each one of those dunes is a different size, but they¡¯re all still dunes.¡±


    The mosaic in my mind blazed as I spoke. What? Why did those words appeal to¡­ Oh, oh.


    And after I went to all that effort to relegate any useful story which might transition my Name into something that I didn¡¯t want into the first contingency.


    ¡°This metaphor is irrelevant to the army approaching us,¡± Sulia puckered her lips and folded her arms as she replied.


    One of the discoveries my scribes had stumbled upon as part of their research had been plotting a poor man¡¯s historical average for how long it took until a Name transitioned. A glance at the results had indicated I was an outlier. I should¡¯ve already transitioned into something else. Past records of Aspirants were sparse and while there were records of them losing their Name, there weren¡¯t any records of them transitioning.


    ¡°Mistakes are like the snow,¡± I explained. ¡°They pile up. Best way forward is to make none.¡±


    I¡¯d done a little introspection to learn more. Evaluating which stories that I knew appealed to my Name had led me to an obvious conclusion: Aspirants tried to do something impossible. It followed that an Aspirant transitioned if they either succeeded at it or lost their purpose.


    ¡°A single failure doesn¡¯t imply the collapse of the whole system,¡± Sulia derided, ¡°Our entire existence supports the contrary.¡±


    The discovery had soured me for some time before I realized there were some upsides to it. Possessing a challenging Name to transition meant that I had far more time to prepare. I could prune away stories that I didn¡¯t want to become stuck in. I¡¯d known a surprising number of stories that qualified. Most of them were some flavour of paradox.


    ¡°Things changed,¡± I retorted.


    I doubted that I¡¯d transition my Name by accident ¡ª the likelihood of achieving the impossible deliberately was low enough already ¡ª but I wouldn¡¯t leave it to chance. I had no interest in being the Bumbling Eternal Clockmaker, or whatever the person who makes perpetual motion machines by accident would be.


    ¡°The Garden¡¯s stories have always corrected themselves in the past,¡± Sulia said, ¡°this time will be no different.¡±


    Trying to argue her down was a waste of my breath. What else could I try? How about exploiting her pride and vanity? I caught Roland¡¯s eyes and inclined my head.


    ¡°A good general would set a trap,¡± Roland commented.


    Princess Sulia did whatever a Summer Fae does that isn¡¯t freezing, but implies the cessation of motion. It was fascinating to watch as even the flames in her hair stopped flickering.


    I bit back a smile.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Sulia hissed at Roland. ¡°We will entrench ourselves. But it is only my respect for your guarantor that stays my hand.¡±


    And you think mortals are useless.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Princess Sulia barked out orders to the Duke of Green Orchards, then matched her pace to our own. The four of us proceeded alone towards Winter¡¯s forces.


    ¡°Let me speak,¡± I suggested, ¡°he¡¯s more likely to listen.¡±


    Fishes would think water was toxic if Sulia tried to sell it to them. I needed her to remain silent so that I could drag this out a little. Long enough so that she acted by impulse, but not long enough that Summer would gain an advantage.


    ¡°You may take the lead,¡± she acquiesced, ¡°but I shan¡¯t hold my tongue.¡±


    That¡¯ll have to be good enough.


    The chequered bridge rattled like tiles under our mount¡¯s hooves as we travelled towards the Winter fae. We halted halfway. The reeds behind us towered like pillars supporting the rooftop of a cathedral. Granted, it was a cathedral with a violent conflagration for a roof.


    Deadwood creatures jeered from the opposing side of the bridge. A horrible realization flashed through my head. What if Sulia could sense Summer¡¯s Sun? It was possible. The Midnight Casket would need to contain the orb for that to be true.


    By the Gods, this better not go to the hells because I forgot something so obvious. No, better to verify. Steady yourself. There¡¯s no evidence that everything¡¯s about to go wrong.


    ¡°Is it in there?¡± I asked the angry arsonist before the Prince of Nightfall arrived.


    ¡°The Midnight Casket clouds my senses,¡± she admitted.


    ¡°Do you sense it anywhere else?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she stated, ¡°but I¡¯d be incapable of sensing it within Skade.¡±


    Tension drained out of my shoulders. I whispered a prayer of relief at the back of my mind. We¡¯d check if the Midnight Casket contained Summer¡¯s Sun, but¡­ the odds weren¡¯t good. Not if Larat brought it here. He would¡¯ve left the Sun secure inside the Spire of Darkest Dreams. It would be easy for us to stage a heist there while most of Winter¡¯s heavy hitters were embroiled with fighting the Summer fae.


    I wasn¡¯t sure whether to smile or frown when a single figure under an icy banner rode out to meet us.


    ¡°Truce,¡± I called out. ¡°The three of us are here to mediate between Summer and Winter. Defeat shadow the army of whoever breaks it. Let¡¯s discuss that box.¡±


    ¡°A truce,¡± the one-eyed fae drummed his pale fingers against the abyssal casket as he drawled. ¡°How refreshing to find wisdom travelling through the frost, even if it¡¯s borrowed and threadbare.¡±


    The Midnight Casked creeped me out whenever I looked at it or sensed it in general. It had no reflection and actively pushed back against the Light. The sensation was¡­ off. A defilement. Like part of me had been desecrated. Given enough time and I could see myself loathing the object¡¯s blasphemous existence. It was impure, unholy, wrong.


    ¡°Try a better lie,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Very well,¡± his smile flickered for a moment before he answered. ¡°I agree to your terms.¡±


    Both of us turned towards the fuming fae clad in greenery.


    ¡°Truce until this mockery of a negotiation ends and not one moment longer,¡± she snapped. ¡°Now return that which you stole.¡±


    Normally when I call someone brilliant it¡¯s a complement but¡­ I suspect that Sulia only glows like that when she¡¯s about to throw a tantrum.


    ¡°Winter keeps what it takes,¡± Larat taunted with a grin that fit the dragon who abducted an extra princess.


    Sulia twitched towards the box but restrained herself at the last moment.


    If only it was that easy.


    ¡°Only if you can hold it,¡± I countered.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you eager for that which is no longer yours?¡± he mocked. ¡°Never fear. It lies sealed away, waiting to be put to use.¡±


    ¡°This conversation is going nowhere,¡± I raised my hand and my voice.


    ¡°It is as I warned you,¡± the fiery Princess declared as she stepped towards Larat, ¡°there is nothing to be gained by trading barbs with these abominations.¡±


    ¡°Prove the Sun is in there,¡± I demanded.


    Come on. I don¡¯t need to do anything fancy. I just need to see the orb and to bait Sulia into attacking without it being obvious.


    ¡°There are less idiotic ways to take my own life,¡± the one-eyed fae replied, ¡°should I wish to do so.¡±


    I glanced towards my two companions. They caught my eyes and stiffened. Time to season this salad with mortal offence before the army arrived to eat it.


    ¡°We aren¡¯t here to debate the merits of your death-¡± Princess Sulia snorted as Roland spoke, ¡°but rather the ownership of the Midnight Casket and it¡¯s contents.¡±


    ¡°Can you show me the Sun,¡± Yvette perked up and interjected out of nowhere. ¡°I¡¯m looking for another reference for Summer¡¯s magic. Abstract flowers only go so far, and I had other worries when-¡±


    This is your chance to be a snarky teenager with my approval. Don¡¯t blow it.


    ¡°Does your nattering never cease?¡± Sulia¡¯s fingers sparked as she snapped at Yvette. ¡°It is not spirit but suicide to test my patience. Return it,¡± she flared gold and turned towards Larat. ¡°Your touch alone defiles it. The heart of Summer is no trinket to be bartered over in a market.¡±


    ¡°The artefacts should go back to their owners,¡± Yvette said. ¡°The Prince of Nightfall can keep his empty box, and Princess Sulia can take the Sun.¡±


    ¡­ And she blew it. This wasn''t the right setup for the Judgement of Solomon.


    ¡°The inside of the Midnight Casket looks better when lit up,¡± Larat drawled. ¡°You could say that they¡¯re married in purpose at last.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s little point to negotiating if you aren¡¯t willing to prove you have the Sun,¡± Roland argued.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there?¡± Larat taunted, ¡°I thought we were negotiating the terms of your defeat.¡± His grin widened, ¡°the old order is broken. A new tale is being spun. All of you will look far prettier once your arms are shackled in Winter¡¯s white.¡±


    Couldn¡¯t the Tyrant not have ditched his new ¡°spouse?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not happening,¡± I replied.


    ¡°Are Summer¡¯s chains snug around your wrists?¡± he mocked. ¡°I can see the silken knots you¡¯ve tangled yourself with.¡± The Prince of Nightfall reached into a pocket with his free hand and pulled out a pipe. It burned cold moments later. ¡°Your companions can have the Midnight Casket if you agree to spend the remainder of your years inside a crystal ball.¡±


    ¡°I thought ma was the one trying to do the impossible,¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°Talk about awful deals.¡± she reached into her pocket dimension and pulled out a slice of cake ¡ª of all things ¡ª then started to nibble at it. ¡°What?¡± she mumbled defensively as the rest of us all stared at her. ¡°This is going nowhere, and I wanted cake.¡±


    We¡¯re talking about appropriate goods to bring into Arcadia later. Along with this attitude being completely out of line with the severity of our situation.


    ¡°Summer¡¯s victory on this field is much like that cake,¡± the one-eyed fae said, ¡°it¡¯s transient. An old age passes,¡± he puffed at the pipe, ¡°and another dawns. The breaking of the circle lies in choices not yet made.¡±


    ¡°All this pontification is meaningless,¡± Sulia snapped. ¡°I¡¯ll tolerate the insult no longer.¡±


    ¡°There is no insult save that which-¡± Larat¡¯s voice cut off as Sulia shrieked.


    What do we do? We didn¡¯t see the contents of the reliquary before she lost her cool.


    The world ignited as Sulia threw herself towards the Midnight Casket.


    The bridge splintered into three fragmented paths under the heat.


    I cast a barrier between us and the Princess of High Noon.


    The flames dispersed against it.


    Another wave of fire cascaded across the battlefield from the forces behind us. It crashed against both my shields and opposing boundaries of ice. I spared a brief glance around the battlefield. Summer had used to opportunity to form up and assaulted Winter¡¯s forces in a three-pronged attack. The army of deadwood soldiers was retreating, only for another Winter army to strike at the assault force.


    I¡­ didn¡¯t have a good enough grasp of battlefield strategy to evaluate the outcome.


    Roland¡¯s hand darted inside his coat as he stiffened and surveyed the scene.


    He¡¯s probably preparing to Confiscate the Sun if I¡¯m wrong about it being empty.


    Should we stay to check the box if Princess Sulia succeeded in claiming it, or should we leave? We could also try stealing the box without confirmation, but¡­ I felt that was a mistake. It would add more layers of difficulty to negotiation. I might be wrong. No. Even if I was wrong¡­ leaving held more promise. I couldn¡¯t even guess how long it would take for this fight to resolve now that Yvette¡¯s story had fallen through.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving!¡± I exclaimed.


    The Prince of Nightfall let out a harrowing laugh as he danced back into the sky on platforms of ice. Glacial spears tore through the air and struck against incandescent walls. Sulia threw herself into the sky.


    Now, to get out of here.


    A disk of Light settled beneath our mount¡¯s hooves.


    I heaved.


    Yvette squawked around her cake as she jolted. Crumbs smeared themselves against her freckles, while her other hand traced rapid, precise symbols into the air.


    ¡°Don¡¯t attack anyone!¡± I ordered at the top of my lungs, ¡°we¡¯re holding a truce flag!¡±


    Flashes of orange and blue scattered around the landscape.


    Crackle.


    Bang!


    Lightning arced and rippled above us. One of the golden flag bearers toppled from the sky. Arrows hissed across the battlefield. I watched as the failed negotiation devolved into full on war in a matter of heartbeats.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t leave!¡± Roland exclaimed, ¡°not until we know for sure the box is truly empty.¡±


    Balls of fire streamed towards the Winter Fae. I raised my hand and threw up a shimmering silver dome. The inferno roiled over the top of my barrier and hissed as it struck against twisted trees and walls of frost. The world held its breath between one barrage and the next.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be,¡± I denied in the interval.


    A harsh corona erupted from Sulia as she blazed like the sun high up in the sky. Streams of fire and ash poured out from her, in stark contrast to the vines that wrapped around her body. Reality rippled under the heat and the reeds behind us blackened then disappeared entirely. The smell of molten dirt reached my nose as shadows stained themselves onto the now glassy landscape.


    My forcefield shattered against another harsh detonation that emanated from Sulia, only for the now weakened flames to be mitigated by a shield of frost. Roland shuddered from behind the shield and muttered words of prayer. There was a ripple as I attempted to summon another shield, only for it to buckle under another detonation. Smoke trailed from the truce banner.


    This is ridiculous.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that for sure!¡± Yvette protested around frosting. ¡°Maybe we should stay. I don¡¯t want to travel to Winter only to find out we wasted our time.¡±


    A stray shard of ice struck against an icy wall as Roland¡¯s held an ivory trinket before himself. Symbols wrapped themselves around Yvette as her dirty fingers danced in the air with one hand and withdrew a pendulum from her pocket dimension with the other. A ghost vanished as my silver barrier manifested once again.


    ¡°Better that than to pass at the opportunity,¡± I challenged. ¡°The Spire is empty. We can always return to the battlefield later if I¡¯m wrong.¡±


    Our group hurtled through the air perpendicular to the conflict. Neither side aimed at us, but that meant little considering the sheer volume of power brought to bear. Summer¡¯s next volley poured across the battlefield like fast moving treacle, only to be swallowed by banks of shadow and snow.


    ¡°There is-¡±


    Roland¡¯s voice cut off as the world lurched. A tornado of ice ripped up trees as it tore across the battlefield and smashed itself against my barrier. The force alone sent my ball spiralling through the air. I clung to my reins as our poor horses reared back. Purple symbols rippled outwards as Yvette¡¯s incantation ended. The tornado detonated. Icy splinters fanned away from us as we hurtled further away from the fight.


    ¡°This is a mess,¡± Yvette wailed, ¡°a mess. Such a mess! Just look,¡± she reached into her storage and withdrew a cloth and dabbed the cake out of her eyes. ¡°How are we supposed to fix this?¡± she gestured with the cloth at all the warring soldiers before storing it again.


    ¡­ We also need to talk about priorities. Removing cake from your face can wait until after the fight ends.


    A ripple of force stole the momentum from the next series of Winter¡¯s frozen lances that approached as Yvette concentrated and incanted.


    ¡°This is a mistake,¡± Roland complained. ¡°Do you think Winter could manufacture another Midnight Casket?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted, ¡°but they wouldn¡¯t bring it here. The Tyrant must¡¯ve given them an alternative.¡±


    ¡°He also could¡¯ve persuaded the Prince of Nightfall to bring it here,¡± Roland protested.


    Conversation stalled as the next wave of Summer¡¯s conflagration lit up the sky. I threw up barriers beyond our sphere between us and the warring armies. Better that being sent spinning again. Actually, could I do something about the momentum?


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± I denied. ¡°Larat¡¯s Dream hasn¡¯t changed.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not evidence if the Sun doesn¡¯t play a part in his Dream,¡± he ran a hand through his hair as he argued.


    A scorching wind slammed against an icy blizzard in front of us. Colour bled out of the world where both elemental powers met. A wave of Light rippled away from me and struck against both constructs. They dissipated under the onslaught.


    ¡°There¡¯s a chance I¡¯m wrong,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Then why do you insist we continue towards Skade instead of turn back and fight?¡± he inquired.


    ¡°This war will take a while to resolve,¡± I gestured towards the seemingly endless waves of soldiers. ¡°There¡¯s time for us to search the Spire and return to the front later. Being wrong now is safer than being right and passing on the opportunity.¡±


    Roland¡¯s eyes narrowed for a moment before he gave a grudging nod.


    I pulled our party low as we skirted the edge of Winter¡¯s forces and flew towards the Twisted Forest. Exchanges became less violent the further we drew from the epicentre. All of us sighed when we passed the last of the conflict and into the lines of trees.


    We passed successive lines of troops. Deadwood soldiers, winged unicorns, a pair of dukes. My unease spiked as we approached Skade. Forts we¡¯d paid no heed to on our journey to Summer lay abandoned. So many fae were all on the march. It had to be almost all of them.


    Where is the Tyrant?


    I kept expecting Kairos Theodosian¡¯s malevolent red eye to appear from the darkness and turn the tides of the conflict.


    He didn¡¯t.


    What is he plotting, and can I work around it?


    The trouble with Kairos Theodosian was that he had a Sin like Dream. Part of his Dream had changed to include spiting me from the moment he laid eyes on me. The nature of the alteration implied that he¡¯d inferred more about me than he could learn from a glance alone. I didn¡¯t know the specifics of the Sin, but I¡¯d learned what I could.


    The Tyrant had three parts to his Dream. To slight everyone in the way that hurts them most, to live, and to be entertaining to the Gods Below while achieving the first two. The second Dream would be pitiable if it weren¡¯t for the first and third.


    My sphere descended as we neared the walls of Skade. We passed through the storied gates and Escheresque streets again before boarding the slightly-less-skeletal-than-before boat. The other two expected we¡¯d need to fly across the waters. It didn¡¯t surprise me when the galleon sailed with no captain at the wheel.


    Lightning arced between darkening clouds that churned in the sky above. Haunting voices from past regrets crooned at me the longer I examined the Spire. Yvette hunched her shoulders and grabbed at the edge of her purple robe. Roland stiffened, then relaxed. A tranquil expression stole across his features.


    The Spire beckoned.


    We reached the base of the structure and opened the door.


    Three heroes shuffled into a darkened tower.


    Three heroes shuffled into somewhere else.

 Elysium 7.05

    ¡°Pity the villain who doesn¡¯t speak before their own downfall.¡±


    ¡ª Soninke saying.


    <hr>


    A cold dagger traced my spine as we stepped onto the first floor of the Spire of Darkest Dreams.


    City skyline, stars, dinner table, fireplace, everything looks the-


    ¡°Nothing appears different from when we last visited,¡± Roland commented.


    ¡°Bothers me,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°It¡¯s changing slowly,¡± Yvette¡¯s fingers twitched as she explained. ¡°It¡¯ll become more pronounced on the next story. I can¡¯t see the specifics,¡± her shoulders hunched. ¡°I think¡­ we¡¯ll see enticements. Visions designed to tempt us into never leaving.¡±


    ¡°Stay vigilant,¡± I commanded.


    ¡°Can you break this?¡± Yvette¡¯s voice wavered, and she clasped tight at her robe. ¡°I don¡¯t want to see whatever it¡¯s going to show us.¡±


    The sensation of a hot bath with scented soaps and rich chocolate suffused every part of me as I immersed myself in the Light. I smiled for a moment before my stomach dropped. Invisible claws scraped against the back of my throat. Space buckled like warped glass as I reached for the Light and funnelled the glow back into me. It was as if I had invisible bindings coiled around me. I strained against their clawing grasp. The constraints didn¡¯t budge.


    I swallowed.


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted. ¡°The King of Winter is here.¡±


    I could still use the Light. I doubted it was possible for anyone except the Gods to take that away from me. Even this was more than I expected the King of Winter to be able to do.


    The bulk of his attention is probably focused on pinning me down.


    ¡°We should leave then,¡± both declared.


    Defeat was bitter, but I wasn¡¯t arrogant enough to challenge Winter in its domain.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± I bit back an oath and replied.


    We turned.


    There should¡¯ve been an open door.


    A starry expanse stretched behind us instead.


    ¡°I suspect,¡± Roland said in measured tones, ¡°that our host is unwilling to grant us exit.¡±


    I scrutinized the missing doorway under the Light for another quarter-hour before admitting defeat.


    There were no seams to be found.


    ¡°I can¡¯t undo this,¡± I shivered as I spoke. ¡°We go ahead. Treat this like a fight with a powerful villainous Named. Monster, trial, pivot. We avoided the monster. This is the trial.¡±


    It¡¯s not an exact match, but it¡¯s better than proceeding off nothing at all.


    The others nodded like marionettes.


    The pivot required no mention.


    And we hope that we can talk our way out of this.


    The unsaid words must¡¯ve filtered through all of our thoughts.


    ¡°Remember the discussion?¡± I asked Yvette.


    Roland always remembered our planning sessions. Yvette¡­ needed reminders.


    ¡°What?¡± she quivered. ¡°Oh, that, yes.¡±


    ¡°Repeat it,¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Stick to the plan, stay in touch. That good enough?¡± Yvette¡¯s voice wavered.


    ¡°It is,¡± I confirmed.


    Particoloured sparkles cascaded off the rainbow stairs as we climbed in silence towards the first floor.


    Red flowers glistened with crystal dewdrops under the moonlight and carpeted a sleepy valley as we reached the landing for the first floor. Anemones and marigolds hugged the edge of a babbling brook.


    ¡°Beaumarais,¡± I breathed out. ¡°This changed faster than I expected.¡±


    Ice shattered between my fingers as I plucked one of the flowers to examine it closer. Blood spilled from red petals and rocks crunched underfoot.


    Nothing is real. It¡¯s all ice and darkness.


    ¡°The layer¡¯s not supposed to shift this fast,¡± Yvette interjected. ¡°This is deliberate. We can assume that-¡±


    Shadows deepened.


    ¡°The King of Winter had a hand in this himself,¡± Roland finished. ¡°We stand within the Knightsgrave.¡±


    Eldritch tendrils pawed at my robe before the gloomy figure backed away.


    My skin crawled.


    ¡°The apparitions aren¡¯t alive,¡± I informed the others. ¡°They have no dreams.¡±


    ¡°They are still weapons of the enemy,¡± Roland said.


    ¡°Where are the stairs?¡± I raised an eyebrow to Yvette as I inquired.


    Inaudible voices crooned around us.


    This isn¡¯t tempting, it¡¯s creepy.


    ¡°Give me a moment,¡± her breath frosted the air as she mumbled and scratched at her nose.


    Yvette pulled out a silvered mirror after a few hundred heartbeats of rummaging through her pocket dimension.


    ¡°It¡¯s either that way,¡± she pointed towards the town one whispered incantation later, ¡°or that way,¡± she pointed towards where the wizard¡¯s tower stood.


    ¡°Two directions?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°The results are muddled,¡± Yvette averted her eyes. ¡°One thing is off, but I can¡¯t quite¡­ Ugh! It¡¯s like a thread you can feel but can¡¯t pull. Perhaps we should-¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Yvette hugged herself and glanced around nervously as I interrupted her. ¡°Thoughts?¡± I asked Roland.


    ¡°I suspect,¡± he ran a hand through his curly brown hair while answering me, ¡°that the way forward either lies at my family¡¯s house or at the foot of the wizard¡¯s tower.¡±


    ¡°Where first?¡± I inquired.


    ¡°I had more fond memories of the home than the tower,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± I ordered.


    Phantasmal grass crackled and parted as we proceeded towards the town.


    The whispers became more pronounced.


    ¡°Breaks every tool,¡± shadows resolved into blurry outlines and danced around us as they hissed.


    I glanced towards Roland. He¡¯d hunched his shoulders and his fingers were clenched so hard that the knuckles had gone white. I pushed down the knot in my belly.


    ¡°These are your demons?¡± I rested a hand on his shoulder and asked in a soft voice.


    He pulled away from me and flinched.


    ¡°Turns cheese sour,¡± they ran tendrils through my hair as they mocked.


    Remain calm.


    The shadows let out haunting cackles and backed away.


    ¡°They are memories from my past,¡± a hollow voice affirmed.


    Yvette and I shouldn¡¯t be here. We¡¯re intruding on something private. Something that belongs to Roland and not us.


    If anything, that spurred my decision to leave.


    ¡°Come on,¡± I encouraged. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The tall grass parted along a frozen footpath. The false sounds of crickets chirping and frogs croaking died as we entered the abandoned streets.


    ¡°Can¡¯t even care for sheep,¡± the phantoms taunted.


    I shuddered as one of them attempted to lick my ears. Both my temper and my aura flared. Innovate threaded the icy shackles like a needle finding a path through a Gordian knot. I stumbled as they tightened.


    Contesting the King of Winter like that isn¡¯t a good idea.


    Ghosts whispered around us.


    ¡°Why this?¡± Roland whispered by a frozen fountain. ¡°I¡¯m more than my failures. Where are the enticements?¡±


    ¡°Deliberate,¡± I replied. ¡°They¡¯ll wait until you¡¯re vulnerable.¡±


    Shadows retreated as we entered a modest ice house.


    ¡°Olivier,¡± the shadowy image of my friend greeted Roland from the end of an unlit corridor, ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°Ignore it,¡± I said as we passed the kitchen.


    ¡°That¡¯s no longer my name,¡± Roland insisted shakily as we checked the kitchen. ¡°You¡¯re dead. I buried you with my own two hands, brother.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m worse than dead,¡± the room darkened as the other Roland mused as we climbed to the second floor. ¡°They call you a hero,¡± the phantom cackled. ¡°You stole my magic, my future, my face, my very existence,¡± the simulacrum hissed venomously. ¡°People think of you when they hear my name.¡±


    ¡°Would that it had ended otherwise,¡± Roland eyes glistened as he mourned. ¡°It¡¯s not here,¡± he declared. ¡°Let¡¯s return to the tower.¡±


    ¡°Olivier the leech,¡± the ghost sneered as we peered into the bedrooms. ¡°Taking from those better than you is the sum of all that you are. You still have nothing to call your own.¡±


    Roland stiffened.


    ¡°He¡¯s a good man,¡± I argued. The stairs creaked underfoot again. ¡°A better man than the one you ape.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I am a thief,¡± Roland¡¯s voice wavered, ¡°but there is virtue in taking from those who abuse their power in the defence of those who have none at all.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to it,¡± I insisted. ¡°You¡¯re more than that.¡±


    A golden flash of sorcery lit up the interior.


    ¡°Ma¡¯s right,¡± Yvette agreed, ¡°Nothing it says is true. It¡¯s designed to feed on your doubts. We should ignore it and look for the stairs. The less you say, the weaker it is.¡±


    Roland¡¯s mouth pressed into a bitter smile as it clammed shut.


    ¡°Think of us,¡± I continued and gestured to myself and Yvette. ¡°Does our friendship mean nothing to you?¡±


    ¡°Where is Alisanne?¡± the phantom taunted as we passed through the frigid corridor again. ¡°Did she abandon you like you abandoned your home?¡± The phantom grinned and looked at me. ¡°No, you cast her aside for the affections of another pretty priestess. You¡¯re nothing more than the right hand of a woman who will never return your feelings.¡±


    What do I even say to that?


    Roland¡¯s said nothing. His fingers tightened around his coat.


    The mist on the gloomy streets dampened my brow.


    ¡°You cannot escape the truth hidden in your own reflection, brother,¡± the simulacrum mocked from the door behind us, ¡°no matter how fast you run.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not following,¡± I said after checking over my shoulders.


    ¡°That is little comfort when the shadows return,¡± Roland responded with a shaky voice.


    We picked up our pace as we left the city and climbed into the mountains.


    ¡°Olivier the inconvenience,¡± another shadow jeered.


    I ducked as another tried to braid phantom flowers through my hair.


    It ate the Light for its efforts.


    I stifled a groan as splinters lanced through my mind.


    ¡°Olivier the failure,¡± one of the wraiths leaned forward and tried to kiss me as it sang.


    An incandescent fountain sent it spiralling away as it tried to lay its palms upon my wrists. The weird obsession they had with me had become downright putrid in light of the added context. I tripped. Roland caught me and pulled me to my feet.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I muttered as I brushed a strand of black hair away from my eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s no trouble,¡± he said as he avoided meeting my gaze.


    ¡°Run,¡± I ordered.


    The crackle of grass intensified as we sprinted.


    The foulness of the spire suffused me.


    The shadowed silhouette of the tower pierces the sky in the distance.


    ¡°Olivier the jinx,¡± another figure whispered as I dodged its attempts to trip me again.


    We panted our way towards the tenebrous tower. Shadows circled us like vultures overhead. The door creaked, then slammed shut behind us.


    Nostalgia warred with unease within me. Dusty books, drying herbs, tables, and chairs cluttered the tower¡¯s base. Every object placed as I remembered it on the day of my arrival. Only, warped. Twisted in a way that made it almost my memory, but not. Pages were coated in rime, herbs were frozen over, and chairs were wreathed in blackened fingers.


    ¡°Olivier,¡± Roland¡¯s creepy clone turned away from a crackling cold hearth and smirked as it greeted Roland, ¡°Back so soon?¡±


    Roland hunched his shoulders and didn¡¯t reply.


    ¡°You know,¡± the monster mused beside Roland while we searched the layer. ¡°Nobody can leave this story unless you will it.¡±


    We ignored the voice and canvassed the ground floor.


    ¡°All could be the way you remember,¡± the reflection continued. ¡°The part of me that you liked could live again, brother.¡±


    ¡°I have no desire to remain trapped within my past,¡± Roland snapped.


    ¡°Next layer,¡± I told the other two.


    ¡°Parts of you want a family,¡± the spectre whispered dark temptations. ¡°You could have one if you chose to stay.¡±


    All three of us said nothing while we searched the empty dormitories on the first floor.


    ¡°You¡¯ve taken so much in the service of others,¡± the creature drawled while stripping me naked with its eyes. ¡°Why not take something for yourself.¡±


    Cold tendrils danced down my spine like an army of spiders.


    ¡°I would never even consider as much,¡± disgust laced Roland¡¯s voice as he protested without missing a beat.


    Breathe. This is the Spire and not Roland, Taylor. Remember that.


    ¡°I never even implied as much,¡± the ghost laughed as it lied. ¡°All you need to do is choose to stay here and with time her heart will be yours.¡±


    My aura flared. I stepped towards the ghost. Space stretched as it flittered up the stairwell.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough,¡± I growled. ¡°This ends here.¡±


    My legs buckled as Winter pressed down on me.


    Should I use a ghost here? No, it¡¯s not worth it. Not when I might need it if we¡¯re to escape our host.


    ¡°See,¡± the monster¡¯s eyes sparkled with malevolent glee. ¡°Nobody can leave unless you will it. You could have peace, a family, all the smaller parts of life you¡¯ve fled from.¡± Its voice crackled like ice. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t even take you a year in this place to convince her.¡±


    ¡°Shed that face and defile my brother¡¯s memory no longer,¡± Roland snarled.


    Yvette helped me to my feet and pointed towards the hints of rainbow sparkles glistening at the opposite end of the stairs.


    ¡°Roland,¡± I tugged at the sleeve of his jacket as I addressed him, ¡°let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°There is nothing for us here,¡± Roland avoided my eyes and agreed.


    The apparition of his brother blocked the way forward.


    ¡°Fleeing so soon, brother?¡± the ghost mocked. ¡°I thought there was more fire to you. You are nothing more than the sum of what you take. Why not take what you want?¡±


    Roland stilled.


    His Dream shifted.


    Wants to be more than what he steals.


    ¡°I am more than what I take,¡± he told the ghost. ¡°I am more than the twisted mockeries of the darkest parts of my mind. Step aside,¡± He ordered in soft tones with eyes as hard as flint, ¡°I¡¯ll hear no more from you.¡±


    ¡°What about her?¡± our enemy taunted derisively. ¡°I¡¯m not so easily dismissed.¡±


    ¡°This is not about her,¡± Roland declared confidently.


    ¡°You would turn as-¡±


    The creature shrieked. An incandescent flash of purple light burned through the wraith as Roland raised a hand and took something from it.


    ¡°No,¡± Roland¡¯s voice was harder this time. ¡°This is about whom I want to be.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I ordered as I sprinted towards the spiral staircase, ¡°who knows if it comes back.¡±


    A stiff silence stole over our group as we ascended the wide rainbow stairwell.


    What was I going to say? I felt violated by the previous floor and while I understood that Roland hadn¡¯t created it and wouldn¡¯t ever act on it, my disgust still remained. It might not be fair or rational, but it didn¡¯t make the feelings disappear. I¡¯d not be surprised if part of the intended effect of the layer was to divide our group.


    We¡¯d climbed halfway to the second floor before I called a halt.


    ¡°Stop!¡± I exclaimed, ¡°we must discuss this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for-¡± Roland cut off as I folded him in a hug.


    ¡°I know,¡± I told him. ¡°You don¡¯t need to apologize.¡±


    ¡°But-¡± his voice died as I squeezed tighter.


    ¡°It¡¯s not you,¡± I insisted. ¡°I won¡¯t lie and say that it makes things better, but-¡±


    ¡°You two should go bar hopping together,¡± Yvette interjected with exactly the wrong thing at the wrong time. ¡°I¡¯m sure ma can help you find someone. Or you can find someone yourself. It¡¯s ridiculous how-¡±


    ¡°Yvie,¡± I growled at her. ¡°Not the time.¡±


    I let go of Roland and backed away.


    ¡°Why?¡± she retorted. ¡°When else are you two-¡±


    You were so much cuter a year ago.


    ¡°We need to discuss the dangers of the next layer in light of what we¡¯ve seen,¡± Roland¡¯s brown eyes met my own as he interrupted her.


    Message received and acknowledged. We¡¯ll talk about this more when Yvette isn¡¯t around.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I acknowledged. ¡°There¡¯ll be a story for each of us,¡± I hesitated. ¡°Mine will be some kind of dystopia,¡± the words crawled out of my mouth.


    What I won¡¯t say is that I expect they¡¯ll become more challenging. Yvette wasn¡¯t first. I don¡¯t want to demoralize her.


    ¡°You dream of horrible civilizations?¡± Yvette¡¯s eyes narrowed and her voice rose.


    ¡°I suspect it is the opposite,¡± Roland replied. ¡°She dreams of a perfect world, and so it follows that the fae will present her with an illusion of one.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I agreed. ¡°Knock sense into me if I forget that.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it will be so straightforward,¡± Roland disagreed. ¡°That construct targeted multiple vulnerabilities¡­¡± he trailed off. ¡°I suspect it would¡¯ve been harder to resist if I hadn¡¯t returned to Beaumarais at your urging.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what to expect,¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°Visions of my parents? No, they wouldn¡¯t hold up. A world with my problems solved? No, there¡¯d be nothing for me to do. How about a library? No, too simple. Doesn¡¯t solve my problems. I-¡±


    ¡°This place doesn¡¯t solve problems,¡± I interjected, ¡°but we¡¯ll find out later.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this place,¡± Yvette said as she clutched at her robes. ¡°It was interesting to examine at first. Now I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll get lost in it,¡± she shivered. ¡°Everything keeps catching my eye. How do I know that I won¡¯t look away for one moment and lose you two? We shouldn¡¯t have come here.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t either. Don¡¯t let it get to you,¡± I insisted. ¡°We¡¯re together.¡±


    ¡°This spire wants us to imprison us or divide us,¡± Roland added. ¡°We¡¯ll succeed so long as we stick together.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I encouraged. ¡°Let¡¯s find Summer¡¯s Sun before the King of Winter decides to start monologuing.¡±


    And somehow placate the King of Winter in the process.


    An uncomfortable wound had carved itself into the space between Roland and me as we ascended the remainder of the rainbow staircase. The last step ended on a tiled road. Roland gasped at the frozen modern metropolis around us.


    I gasped for a different reason.


    An ephemeral limb had attached itself to my consciousness.


    I didn¡¯t have direct control of it, but it did respond to my thoughts with a detached amusement.


    How about a country lodge near the mountains instead?


    The landscape rippled.


    We stood at the foot of an illusory snowcapped mountain range beside a modest blackened wood cottage.


    It appears that I can¡¯t get rid of Winter¡¯s influence from what I make.


    ¡°Why did the landscape shift?¡± Roland yelped.


    I winced as he glanced around with a wild look in his eyes.


    ¡°My fault,¡± I explained. ¡°The story responds to my thoughts.¡±


    I tried to wield the Light and met no failure until I tried to dispel the illusion.


    My shoulders slacked.


    This isn¡¯t perfect, but it¡¯s better. It¡¯s good to have some control over what we face. I suspect those emotions I detect belong to the King of Winter. It¡¯s not good, but¡­ we knew he¡¯s here. Better to see the face of our enemy then move forward blind.


    ¡°That part didn¡¯t change,¡± Yvette mused as she and pointed at a ruined city on the horizon. She nodded to herself after muttering a brief incantation. ¡°The staircase is in that direction. Can you turn this into a flat plane? Then we can walk.¡±


    I acknowledged her words with a stiff nod and pushed the thought at the floor.


    It rippled once again.


    ¡°How about distance?¡± Yvette contemplated. ¡°Can you shrink it? What about the night sky? Get rid of it or add clouds. Let¡¯s see exactly what you c-¡±


    ¡°Clouds work. Shrinking space is out,¡± I denied. ¡°Let¡¯s get walking.¡±


    I could feel Roland¡¯s sullen glare several feet away from me at the back of my head as we approached the anomaly on the surface of a tiled plane.


    Don¡¯t look at me. I also don¡¯t understand why I got a chamber that I can modify.


    ¡°The distance isn¡¯t changing,¡± Yvette interrupted two minutes later. ¡°We¡¯re no closer than before. Perhaps we¡¯re going about this wrong. Can you make a staircase instead?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± I frowned as I replied.


    ¡°Look over there,¡± Roland gestured towards the ruins. ¡°She looks like you did on the day I found you,¡± he noted.


    A figure headed towards us from the ruins. One that I could almost ¡ª but not quite ¡ª feel with my weird additional sense.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t,¡± I replied.


    A sense of angelic unease stole over me.


    ¡°She appears guarded and has the same mannerisms,¡± he clarified.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Angels warn me about her,¡± I said. ¡°Should we act?¡±


    ¡°Do they want her dead?¡± Roland asked.


    ¡°They never do. Just caution,¡± I replied.


    Roland turned towards Yvette and raised an eyebrow.


    A tense moment passed as we waited for her to finish casting a spell.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like your shadow, Roland,¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°It¡¯s more like Ma¡­ only with all the wrong opinions.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we should hold off on violence until we understand more,¡± Roland concluded.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I checked.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not take any irreversible actions until we understand the purpose of this chamber,¡± he confirmed.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I acquiesced. ¡°We don¡¯t act until we know for certain, and we look for the exit in the meanwhile.¡± I paused. ¡°I can feel her.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Roland questioned.


    ¡°Like everything else here,¡± I explained. ¡°Feeling¡¯s not as strong but¡­ I can almost change her.¡±


    All three of us stopped as the figure clad in my old Weaver outfit drew near.


    ¡°Not impressed,¡± my clone folded her arms and spoke.


    ¡°She even has the same mannerisms,¡± Roland shivered as he spoke.


    ¡°It¡¯s uncanny,¡± Yvette shuddered. ¡°How do we know who is real? No, bad question. Ma would never wear something like that.¡±


    That¡¯s rude.


    Yvette suddenly decided that the ground was interesting to examine as my duplicate glared holes into her.


    Earned.


    ¡°Exit?¡± I tried to defuse the situation.


    ¡°Good clone,¡± she ignored my words, ¡°convince me.¡±


    ¡­ What?


    I licked my lips and thought about what she¡¯d just said. The realization poured over me like an icy shower. I¡¯d experienced visions with a Good and Evil clone before. This shadow of me was implying I was the Good clone in a non-existent vision.


    ¡°Where¡¯d you come from?¡± I checked.


    ¡°Great,¡± fake me whispered, ¡°she¡¯s stupid.¡±


    This place has exceeded my weirdness threshold.


    My heart clenched as the sense I had of my clone faded slightly.


    ¡°Look,¡± Yvette pointed to the horizon. ¡°The distance to the ruins expanded.¡±


    ¡°The feeling also got weaker,¡± I warned the others.


    I want that back. It¡¯s like I¡¯m losing control of a part of myself.


    ¡°What¡¯s fake Ma implying?¡± Yvette asked.


    ¡°She¡¯s pretending that I¡¯m a figment of her imagination,¡± I clarified. ¡°Like I¡¯m the Good angel over her shoulder instead of a real person.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you should play the part until we learn more,¡± Roland¡¯s eyes darted from side to side as he suggested. ¡°We¡¯ve made no progress otherwise.¡±


    ¡­ Fine.


    What would be my most effective tool for persuasion? The landscape shifted around us into a metropolis once again. Fake people walked the streets.


    ¡°Walk with me,¡± I said as I strode towards the ruins. The feeling of progression mattered more than the fact that we didn¡¯t make any headway. ¡°Here¡¯s my argument,¡± I swept my arms across the misted over glacier city.


    ¡°So tall,¡± Yvette sounded awed. ¡°What kept these buildings standing? It reminds me of the Mirror City. What are these boxes on wheels? Or how about those poles? Or-¡± her voice trailed off as she examined the scenery.


    ¡°No religious symbols?¡± my clone asked as she raised an eyebrow at me.


    Yvette and Roland examined my phantasmal construction as they followed behind.


    ¡°No need,¡± I explained. ¡°Everyone¡¯s on the same side.¡±


    My stomach performed backflips as my mental hold on her intensified.


    ¡°Don¡¯t require them if you win?¡± she mused. ¡°Least you¡¯re not gauche.¡±


    A smile plastered itself onto my face as the distance shrunk and her star brightened in my mind.


    Was I supposed to convince my clone to choose a side? Why did this layer of the spire invert the roles? Didn¡¯t it make more sense to put me in the middle? Wasn¡¯t that how those dreams worked? Perhaps the King of Winter was trying to sell me on Evil by framing it as if I couldn¡¯t be more aligned with Good?


    I¡¯m not prepared to lose that fight.


    ¡°I think I need to convince her before we can move floors,¡± I explained to the others.


    I hated how my stomach churned when Roland¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    The Spire created that vision.


    He said nothing.


    ¡°Nice city,¡± my clone said as she nodded appreciatively. ¡°Evil¡¯s looks better.¡±


    ¡°No violence here,¡± I countered, ¡°It¡¯s a place with no suffering.¡±


    Why didn¡¯t that shift her allegiance at all? It would¡¯ve influenced me.


    ¡°Not possible,¡± she argued.


    ¡°It is,¡± I disagreed. ¡°Start with a benevolent government.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t work,¡± she dismissed as we passed under the shadow of a skyscraper. ¡°Some people are naturally awful.¡±


    Should I try to change her mind on this? I¡¯d thought more on the subject and came up with a solution that suited my purposes. I expected that my suggestion wouldn¡¯t be well received because she didn¡¯t share my perspective.


    ¡°You believe that we are all born Evil?¡± Roland asked as he toyed with a fire hydrant some distance away.


    ¡°Some people are,¡± she clarified.


    Don¡¯t lie to yourself here.


    ¡°There¡¯s a long term solution,¡± I bit my lip as I explained. ¡°One that requires Good to rule every nation first. An international vote to expose everyone to Compassion from that point onward.¡±


    It didn¡¯t surprise me that both Roland and Yvette looked unsettled by my words. I didn¡¯t expect many people would approve of my idea any time soon.


    ¡°So take away their free will?¡± she asked.


    My fingers clenched as the distance expanded and my connection with her dimmed.


    ¡°No,¡± I protested. ¡°The inability to do Evil is different from the inability to choose.¡±


    She ran a hand through her locks and opened her mouth. I raised a hand and concentrated.


    Roland clenched his fingers a few feet away as the cityscape shifted into a hedge maze with snow crusted leaves.


    ¡°You¡¯re in a maze,¡± I began. ¡°Here¡¯s an intersection. You can move left or right. Do you have no choice?¡±


    ¡°Not if there¡¯s only one exit,¡± the grey armoured girl replied.


    The leaves shifted around to allow us the illusion of forward movement.


    ¡°The maze has always had one exit,¡± I countered. ¡°Everything ends. Removing the ability to do Evil is like removing bad branches from the maze. Nobody wants hydra pits in the maze.¡±


    ¡°The hydra pit repairmen disagree,¡± Yvette muttered under her breath. ¡°You¡¯re stealing their income.¡±


    The distance shrank and the connection to the other me pulsed brighter as Yvette spoke.


    Okay, that joke is a little funny.


    ¡°There are other jobs,¡± I patted Yvette on the shoulder as I answered her. ¡°Not all choices should be allowed.¡±


    ¡°Look at the maze,¡± Other Taylor declared. ¡°See the flowers hidden between the leaves. Their beauty comes from the contrast between them and the green.¡±


    ¡°A bouquet is beautiful,¡± I countered, ¡°and it only contains flowers. Evil doesn¡¯t need to exist for Good to have meaning.¡±


    Star flared, space shrunk.


    The shattered buildings are only a couple of hundred feet away.


    ¡°Almost there,¡± I told the other two.


    Something flickered behind Roland¡¯s eyes.


    I beat mental fists against my emotions when he averted them the moment I looked his way.


    This place is like a cruel joke I¡¯m forced to laugh at. We¡¯ll sort this out. I won¡¯t allow an illusion created by the King of Winter ruin our friendship.


    ¡°There would be no violence if people couldn¡¯t even conceive of hurting others in the first place,¡± Roland murmured. ¡°However, it¡¯s hard to judge if it¡¯s worth the cost.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than relying on a government to prevent wrongdoing,¡± I said from beside a snow car.


    ¡°There¡¯s a difference between making something illegal and removing the ability to imagine even doing it,¡± fake me protested as the maze turned back into a metropolis again.


    My nails bit into my palms as space ballooned and life leached out of the star.


    No!


    How could I convince her of this? She had to see my way. I could do it. I needed the vindication.


    ¡°The difference is academic,¡± I argued. ¡°There are things that are impossible for us. Things we can¡¯t even imagine doing. Our inability to make those choices doesn¡¯t infringe on our free will.¡±


    The ruins vanished as my sense of my clone dimmed from a star into a street light.


    Perhaps persuading myself is harder than I thought.


    ¡°Taylor,¡± Roland said, ¡°this argument distracts from the mission.¡±


    ¡°Just a moment more,¡± I sighed. ¡°I can convince her.¡±


    ¡°Even the fae hated Arcadia,¡± Yvette quipped.


    Thank you for undercutting my argument.


    ¡°The fae know there are choices they can¡¯t make,¡± I countered with a glare. ¡°What if that awareness didn¡¯t exist at all?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about the fae,¡± other me mused, ¡°but that sounds horrible. Evil clone liked mind control too.¡±


    ¡°Not the same,¡± I insisted. ¡°You¡¯re asking for consent first.¡±


    Yes!


    Triumph swelled through me as the connection intensified.


    ¡°Fair,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°At least they¡¯ll agree to have no free will. How do you define Evil?¡±


    That¡¯s not¡­ never mind. It¡¯s a win. She¡¯s fine with it.


    The angels nudged me again.


    ¡°Taylor,¡± Roland repeated without looking me in the eye. ¡°We¡¯re going nowhere.¡±


    ¡°A moment, Roland,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯m progressing. Compassion¡¯s definition works.¡±


    ¡°Swear off violence,¡± she challenged.


    ¡°I would if everyone else did,¡± I argued.


    Brighten and shrink.


    ¡°Sharing your stories did more harm than good,¡± she leaned against a lamppost and declared.


    ¡°All I did was give people more choices,¡± I responded. ¡°They were the ones who chose.¡±


    Dull and stretch.


    ¡°Don¡¯t abnegate responsibility for your own actions,¡± she sounded incredulous.


    The cold mirage city ¡ª minus one crystal lamppost ¡ª transformed into a wintry hedge maze again.


    ¡°There are more paths,¡± I raised my arms and expounded. ¡°Some have hydra pits. The pits are labelled and fenced in. It isn¡¯t the fault of the gardener if you climb over the fence.¡±


    Nobody earns a Name without strong convictions about something to begin with.


    ¡°Bad analogy,¡± she countered. ¡°You¡¯ve given children sharpened knives and let them loose on an orphanage.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re either arguing the people of Creation are too stupid to make decisions, or you''re arguing against free will,¡± I mused.


    Come on, come on, come on. I can convince myself of this. I need to convince myself of this.


    Brighten and shrink.


    ¡°No,¡± she retorted, ¡°lots of bad things happened, and it¡¯s your fault.¡±


    ¡°Taylor-¡±


    ¡°Just a moment¡± I interrupted Roland. ¡°Blaming me is like blaming our grandfather for the choices we make,¡± I said.


    ¡°You¡¯ll shoot another baby if the Gods tell you to?¡± she shifted the topic.


    So you shift the topic the moment it looks like you¡¯re about to lose the argument.


    The nudging became more insistent.


    What? I¡¯m trying.


    ¡°TAYLOR!¡± Roland shouted.


    The connection faded again.


    ¡°You¡¯re making this more difficult,¡± I towards him and growled.


    ¡°Am I?¡± he took me by the shoulders and asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think I am.¡±


    The connection faded a second time.


    ¡°It¡¯s weakening,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Well?¡± Other me pressed. ¡°What¡¯s your-¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not important,¡± Roland interjected.


    ¡°What about convincing her?¡± I challenged. ¡°We agreed that¡¯s the goal.¡±


    ¡°There is-¡±


    My fingers clenched as the connection almost blackened entirely.


    ¡°You guessed,¡± Roland interrupted again. ¡°Tell us where the staircase is,¡± he addressed Yvette.


    ¡°I¡¯m not stick-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s her,¡± Yvette interjected. ¡°This makes no sense. The spell says the staircase is her. How does that even-¡±


    Oh.


    The frigid breath of Winter traced the hairs on the back of my neck.


    ¡°I think,¡± I whispered, ¡°that I¡¯ve justified enough.¡±


    The phantom howled as it burned under the Light.


    A haunting laugh echoed in my mind as the presence which allowed me to modify the floor pulled away.


    A rainbow staircase appeared in the phantom¡¯s place a moment later.


    ¡°What was what?¡± Yvette asked in a hesitant halfway up the spiral stairwell. ¡°Can you explain your dream? It made no sense. There was nothing interesting there. Why do you dream of arguing with yourself?¡±


    ¡°We thought wrong,¡± I explained. ¡°What are our darkest dreams? They¡¯re our vices. That manifested as¡­¡± I licked my lips. ¡°A debate that I couldn¡¯t win,¡± I whispered. ¡°My reflection put up enough of an argument to keep me invested, but not enough so I changed my mind.¡±


    ¡°We will all face parts of ourselves we¡¯d prefer for nobody else to see,¡± Roland placed a reassuring palm on my shoulder as he murmured.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°Let¡¯s not¡­ let¡¯s not judge each other for what this place tempts us with.¡±


    ¡°Did you mean what you said?¡± Roland inquired.


    ¡°About what?¡± I replied.


    ¡°That you wish to expose everyone to Compassion,¡± he clarified.


    ¡°Only if they vote for it,¡± I hunched my shoulders and repeated.


    ¡°Will they even be themselves after?¡± Roland¡¯s voice was thick with doubt.


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted. ¡°They¡¯ll change, but it¡¯s their choice.¡±


    ¡°Your plan might prevent Evil,¡± Roland said. ¡°But would you be happy with it? The Taylor I met wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    You¡¯re right.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I prevaricated. ¡°This layer has¡­ given me things to think about.¡±


    The remainder of the ascent to the third floor proceeded in silence.


    The staircase terminated on what I could only describe as insanity given life.


    We arrived at an island in a sea of inky blackness. An island of ice crusted books and scrolls and loose pages that sprawled out in all directions beneath our feet. Shadowy scribbles and figures and symbols stretched across from one tome to the next. Gloomy tendrils traced hints of glyphs into the air before us, only for them to fade away moments later. Books dove in and out of the umbral tides, only to take flight and soar through the night sky.


    ¡°Yvie,¡± I addressed her, ¡°where¡¯s the exit?¡±


    She bit her lip and traced silver symbols into the air.


    ¡°I think¡­¡± her voice trailed off as a flying scroll struck the side of her head.


    A symbol flared red. She growled and began casting once again.


    ¡°I think¡­¡± her voice cut off a second time as she stumbled when the books beneath us shook.


    ¡°Ahhhhh,¡± she huffed and brushed aside a golden lock. ¡°I think¡­¡±


    Her eyes lost focus, as a phantom sigil traced itself in the air before her.


    A thunderous detonation sent her stumbling to the floor.


    Third time is a pattern.


    I was beside her and cradling a broken arm in less than an eye blink.


    And of course the restrictions are back again.


    I bit back an oath when my attempts to heal her met spacial complications.


    Innovate had better do something here!


    Unreality warped.


    The Light twisted with it.


    One dead end.


    Another.


    Another.


    Thirty heartbeats of nothing but futility passed.


    I started progressing a few mental knots later.


    My head turned into a blinding headache as at last my healing took.


    ¡°No spells,¡± I ordered.


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°Doing anything with the Light is hard here,¡± I interrupted her protest. ¡°And our host won¡¯t let you.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Yvette huffed and pouted.


    The sullen glare didn¡¯t move me at all.


    ¡°This place is alien to all of us,¡± I continued. ¡°We¡¯ll search it one corner at a time and see what we can find.¡±


    Half an hour later and the atmosphere of the¡­ Eternal Library ¡ª for want of a better name ¡ª had become suffocating. The whisper of crackled pages, the sound of quill on paper and the sloshing of ink. A stillness that I could drown in pervaded every corner of the room.


    There were always more books.


    And the books were always moving.


    Yvette¡¯s eyes flitted from one book to another.


    ¡°The text on those manuscripts changes whenever I blink,¡± she muttered. ¡°Why does it keep changing? I can¡¯t read all of it that fast. I¡¯m certain to miss something.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s by design,¡± I explained.


    ¡°It¡¯s awful,¡± she pouted.


    Her fingers quivered like electrocuted cockroaches. She reached up and absently grabbed a tome that flew past her face on icy paper wings.


    ¡°Oh!¡± she perked up and exclaimed. ¡°This one¡¯s about the fall of Kerguel. It refutes the commonly held belief that the city fell to the Gods and instead asserts that-¡±


    ¡°Yvie, focus,¡± I chided her. ¡°Remember?¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes¡± she muttered under her breath as she let go of the book. ¡°Yvie, focus,¡± she mimicked my voice as she whispered. ¡°Yvie, ignore the books. Yvie, put aside your interests and do what we want.¡±


    Yvette¡¯s nightmare isn¡¯t scary; it¡¯s just sad. She¡¯d enjoy being trapped in here.


    ¡°We¡¯ll stop and do something together later,¡± I said softly as I laid a palm on her shoulder. ¡°Something for you.¡±


    ¡°You heard that?¡± she squeaked and turned beetroot red.


    ¡°I did,¡± I confirmed. ¡°Close your eyes if it''s too much. I can always lead you by hand.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Yvette¡¯s face lit up as she exclaimed, ¡°I don¡¯t need help. I can manage on my own.¡±


    It¡¯s like she¡¯s forgotten our mission entirely.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I acknowledged. ¡°It¡¯s easier together.¡±


    She avoided meeting my eyes.


    The sound of inky shadows sloshing against tomes died away as we passed through a narrow valley of books and into a grotto of pages.


    ¡°Are you sure we can¡¯t stop?¡± Yvette grumbled mulishly. ¡°We just ignored a historical treatise on old titan ruins. Or how about that-¡±


    ¡°It starts with one,¡± I interjected.


    ¡°Taylor is correct,¡± Roland agreed. ¡°That is how this place will ensnare you in its web.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± Yvette sputtered in protest. ¡°Come on! Just one book! How is that addictive? Besides, it¡¯s not like knowledge ever ruined anyone¡¯s life¡­ right? Why-¡±


    ¡°Do you think that you¡¯ll ever find what you¡¯re looking for here?¡± I countered.


    ¡°Yes!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°Well, possibly. With enough time. There are plenty of other useful pieces of information buried here that we could benefit from uncovering.¡±


    ¡°This island of false promises will only ever provide you with the barest of fruits,¡± Roland challenged.


    Yvette puckered her lips and pouted but said little more.


    The false cavern sloped downwards and hollowed out into an open chamber with a mountain of literature in the middle.


    ¡°Look over there,¡± Yvette pointed up the slope as she spoke. ¡°I think that¡¯s a shadow of me. Does this mean we¡¯re at the end? I hope it¡¯s the end because I don¡¯t want to stay here any longer.¡±


    A shadowy copy of Yvette stood at the peak.


    I¡¯m not hesitating to kill it this time.


    The Light surged and twisted and strained against the distortion. Specks of frost lined my skin as the King of Winter¡¯s grasp on space intensified. I transformed myself into a fountain of directed radiation ¡ª a river of Light straining against its bank ¡ª and the bank caved under the pressure. I panted and collapsed as a lance of agony dug its claws into my mind.


    There. Good. It¡¯s gone. It¡¯s gone.


    Yvette¡¯s clone ate a wave of Light as it opened its mouth to speak.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t listen to Taylor,¡± another shadowy figure whispered from behind us.


    A second actinic beam burned the shadow away.


    ¡°When has she ever let you do what you want?¡± a third voice sang from our left.


    I grit my teeth as it disappeared in a flash.


    ¡°A real family would let you grow up,¡± a fourth cajoled from our right.


    Yvette¡¯s eyes darted around the mountain of books like a caged animal looking for an escape.


    I clenched my fingers as the next fountain of radiance erased it from the stacks.


    ¡°She can¡¯t kill us,¡± a fifth apparition mocked from above. ¡°None of you can.¡±


    ¡°Ignore it and look for the exit,¡± I ordered. ¡°It¡¯s like Roland¡¯s shade all over again.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear this. I don¡¯t want to hear this,¡± Yvette muttered to herself, ¡°ignore the spectres. Look for a way out. Nothing they say is worth listening to.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave yet,¡± the creature continued. ¡°Time doesn¡¯t move in this place.¡± Yvette¡¯s walking slowed.


    ¡°Roland,¡± I barked. ¡°You try killing it.¡±


    Arrows of red and gold surged from a rod and struck against the shrouded figures.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Yvette wrung her hands as she exclaimed, ¡°all the books. You¡¯ll set the books on fire. Think of the damage!¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t real!¡± I protested.


    ¡°How do you know that for sure?¡± Yvette challenged. ¡°They might be. I haven¡¯t checked. There¡¯s so much that you''re risking destroying.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m more worried about how we¡¯ll get out,¡± I retorted.


    We summited the stacks and descended towards another parchment archway on the other side.


    The phantom figures faded back into existence only a moment later.


    ¡°You can read as much as you want,¡± the turning of pages rustled as we rounded another corner.


    A ladder of hard cover spines protruded from the rightmost wall towards a gap in the paper ceiling.


    ¡°There,¡± I gestured towards the umbral light streaming down from the hole.


    ¡°There are no consequences for staying here,¡± the scribbling of quills whispered.


    The rush of ink intensified as I pulled myself through a parchment porthole and onto a paper ship. Scroll sails billowed in an imaginary breeze. Lines of cryptic text annotated the otherwise empty deck.


    This better not be a dead end.


    ¡°Yvette,¡± my voice rose, ¡°don¡¯t listen to it.¡±


    ¡°Is that true? ¡±Yvette shouted out.


    ¡°Where do souls go after death? How to protect the people you love? How to end the Ratling hunger? What did the titans know? You can find all those answers and more,¡± the ink sloshed, ¡°if you choose to stay and read awhile.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s lying to you,¡± I said as I grabbed the spine of the cabin door handle and tugged.


    It didn¡¯t budge.


    We entered a dusty room after a concentrated ray resolved the problem.


    Where is the staircase to the next floor?


    ¡°Your mother¡¯s going to live forever,¡± a tenebrous figure said from behind an icy desk. ¡°How are you going to make her proud without an eternity to figure it out?¡±


    Yvette halted.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing stopping us from leaving afterwards?¡± she bit her lip and asked.


    ¡°Nothing at all,¡± the shadows purred. ¡°You have eternity to find what you want.¡±


    ¡°Yvie,¡± I called out.


    She didn¡¯t meet my eyes.


    ¡°Yvie,¡± I repeated.


    She took one hesitant step towards another book.


    ¡°Yvie!¡± I shouted.


    She swallowed and slowed.


    ¡°Yvette,¡± I pleaded. ¡°Trust me. Listen to me. Please.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps one of the books can tell us how to leave,¡± she prevaricated as she reached towards a thick tome.


    ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± I argued. ¡°I¡¯m already proud of you. You know that.¡±


    ¡°There are troubles you wish to mend,¡± Roland interjected. ¡°You cannot face any of them while imprisoned in this place.¡±


    ¡°It only needs to be a short stay,¡± she clutched a book tight against her chest and protested. ¡°Until I learn what I need to know.¡±


    Gods, I¡¯m praying that this works.


    ¡°Can you check if time is truly standing still?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I can,¡± she confirmed, ¡°but not without casting a spell.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to do that,¡± one of the shadows urged. ¡°Trust us.¡±


    ¡°If time is really standing still,¡± Yvette said, ¡°then you should be fine with me checking.¡±


    Shadows dashed back and forth.


    The rustling of pages became more insistent.


    Don¡¯t let the King of Winter interfere with it in a way that¡¯s catastrophic.


    ¡°Yvette,¡± I said as my mouth ran dry. ¡°I¡¯m shielding this room in a barrier.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t do that,¡± she shook her head vehemently as she spoke. ¡°We saw what happened when you healed me. This is about as complicated.¡±


    ¡°Prepare the detection spell,¡± I ignored her and kept elaborating, ¡°and find us a way out.¡±


    ¡°Pick up the book,¡± a shadow insisted. ¡°Your mother will calm down once she sees it¡¯s fine.¡±


    Wintry chains twisted and pulled at me as I tried to weave the Light into a shield. Reality rippled and snapped against me for my temerity. My body dispersed into a cloud before reforming. Yvette¡¯s eyes widened. The book she held thudded against the ground.


    This isn¡¯t working. I¡¯ll take the risk to protect her.


    I called and Persevere answered.


    A silver barrier shimmered into existence around us a moment later.


    ¡°Now Yvette!¡± I exclaimed.


    One hand¡¯s fingers danced as she incanted her spell. The other reached into the place she stored her possessions. Hundreds of spectres surrounded my shield and whispered temptations from beyond the barrier.


    ¡°They¡¯re lying,¡± Yvette whimpered as the first of her spells completed. ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ none of it is true, and I almost fell for it.¡±


    She closed her eye and clutched the mirror so tight that her knuckles had gone white.


    Another heavy press against my barrier broke me into a diffuse cloud again.


    One of the symbols shattered at my touch.


    I¡¯m sorry.


    ¡°I can do more than make mistakes,¡± Yvette cursed as she fumbled her spell. ¡°I¡¯m not just a forgetful mess.¡±


    I pulled parts of myself away from her ritual as the weight of a glacier pressed down upon me.


    ¡°Roland and Ma are relying on me,¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.¡±


    My barrier shattered.


    Yvette did her best to balance as the paper boat rocked.


    Shadows swarmed inwards.


    I struggled against our host again.


    Roland pulled out a rod and coated the shadows with flames.


    Purple sigils thrummed and cascaded outwards as the spell completed.


    ¡°That way!¡± she pointed and shouted.


    We sprinted as if death itself hounded our every step.


    Out the cabin, down the hatch, through the caverns.


    Yvette pointed, we ran.


    The world became a blur.


    Shadows laughing, cajoling, burning under magic and miracles.


    ¡°I think,¡± I said as we footed the base of the rainbow staircase, ¡°that I have some complaints for our host.¡±


    Yvette collapsed into a heap on one of the steps and sobbed.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I sat down beside her and hugged her with one arm. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay.¡±


    Roland sat on one of the stairs a few feet away and rested his legs.


    The first vision wasn¡¯t his fault, but that doesn¡¯t make it any less uncomfortable.


    ¡°But it¡¯s not,¡± she wailed. ¡°I¡¯m the one who keeps dragging you down.¡±


    ¡°Why do you think that?¡± I asked as I rubbed her back.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± she hiccoughed. ¡°You both did fine. I¡¯m the one who almost gave in. I¡¯m the one you needed to save.¡±


    Yvette wants reassurance and not answers.


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± I denied. ¡°You helped us navigate our visions.¡±


    ¡°It is true,¡± she spat.


    We sat like two rocks for a while. I waited in silence for the tension to drain from her.


    Her shoulders relaxed.


    ¡°Is there anything else you want to say?¡± I pressed.


    Yvette¡¯s eyes adopted a faraway expression as she thought it over.


    ¡°Later,¡± she said with all the enthusiasm of a moving sloth, ¡°when we¡¯re not in this place,¡± she shuddered.


    ¡°Later, then,¡± I replied.


    A brief discussion on how to approach the next level didn¡¯t yield much we could use. Stick to the plan. Don¡¯t offend our host. Don¡¯t start a fight. Follow our rules.


    The staircase beckoned.


    A heavy teak door set into a granite wall blocked the top of the passage.


    It groaned as Roland pushed it open.


    My hackles raised.


    The room was nothing but blue ice.


    Where¡¯s our host?


    ¡°Check for Summer¡¯s Sun,¡± I ordered.


    Best not to turn away from the opportunity.


    ¡°Are you certain it¡¯s wise to proceed?¡± Roland questioned while he examined an intricate ice armoire on the far left of the room.


    ¡°We¡¯ve already resolved to steal from a fae Prince,¡± I said.


    ¡°There¡¯s a difference between a Prince and the King,¡± Roland shook his head as he cautioned.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of this so-called adventure,¡± Yvette muttered beside a frozen painting on the right-hand side of the room.


    ¡°I know,¡± I paused and ran my fingers along the frozen dinner table in the centre of the chamber, ¡°do you have a better suggestion?¡±


    ¡°We take a seat and wait,¡± Roland suggested. ¡°Then our host cannot fault us for poor manners.


    My lips pressed into a line as I mulled it over. Summer¡¯s Sun had become essential to our plans, but¡­ perhaps we could negotiate for it.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I agreed.


    I pulled up one of the frozen chairs at the long table and waited.


    And waited.


    And waited.


    I¡¯m almost at the end of my patience.


    I blinked.


    A slender man with wavy black hair was seated at the far end of the table on the frozen throne.


    We turned towards the figure.


    The King of Winter¡¯s presence gripped the room like frost creeping over glass. Every breath cut like knives scraping down my throat. The weight of his eyes settled upon us like a mountain resting on a needle.


    He held a carved wooden dove with sapphire eyes on an open palm towards me.


    The sapphires gleamed.


    Adrenaline surged through me as my companions toppled against the hoary table like puppets who¡¯d had their strings cut.


    ¡°Taylor,¡± the King of Winter spoke. ¡°It¡¯s time we had a little chat, don¡¯t you think?¡±

 Elysium 7.06

    ¡°A clever thief ¡ª much like a fox ¡ª always checks for traps after it finds the hen house.¡±


    ¡ª Callowan thieves saying.


    <hr>


    The space between words hollowed out a place within my friends. Whatever affliction had taken them screamed wrongness to my senses. They shouldn¡¯t be that way. Nobody should be that way.


    An icy chair scraped.


    My aura flickered like a dying candle resisting Winter¡¯s gale.


    Useless.


    Three steps.


    Blood pounded louder than an organ in my ears.


    Innovate wove tapestries of icicles as it contested the arcane artistry of Winter¡¯s monarch.


    Another three steps.


    I reached towards Yvette. A barren wasteland littered with broken twigs intruded in the intervening distance. I swallowed back a scream ¡ª reminded myself to be exceedingly cautious ¡ª and turned towards our host.


    I stared into the eyes of eternity and felt small.


    ¡°Careful,¡± the King murmured, each word etching the air with unrelenting want. ¡°Ignorance can kill as surely as Winter¡¯s bite.¡±


    The ice beneath my feet groaned and crackled as he spoke.


    What¡¯s blocking me? Stay calm. Learn more


    ¡°You did something to them,¡± I accused.


    A claustrophobic phantom compressed the chamber with its haunting presence as he leaned back into his misted sarcophagus of a throne.


    ¡°Are you at war with the Tyrant of Helike?¡± the words spoken by our host reverberated throughout the room.


    My next accusation almost dived off the tip of my tongue before I realized the significance of his question. The Tyrant had negotiated with him for an unspecified favour that likely involved our conflict.


    ¡°Not at this present moment in time,¡± I replied.


    Re-evaluating entering the Spire of Darkest Dreams right about then counted as an adequate distinction for me.


    I exhaled as the weight of forgotten memories lifted.


    ¡°Then we may talk,¡± the dark haired creature said as he smiled at me.


    Now to find out what happened to Roland and Yvie.


    ¡°You did something to them,¡± I repeated.


    ¡°They will wake with time, though diminished,¡± he examined his sharpened fingernails as he dismissed my concerns.


    Diminished? Would they ever truly recover? My fingers dug grooves into the icy tabletop. I didn¡¯t know what I would do if it turned out the affliction had permanence. I¡¯d find a way to restore what he stole from them, no matter how long it took me. The King needed to negotiate with more heroes if he expected me to modify my order of priorities.


    ¡°You did something to them,¡± my teeth ground together as I rattled the request off a third time.


    I had to stick to our rules. No questions. No bargains without clarifying terms. No saying the first words that teased the tip of my tongue. The crumbling of the cathedral roof didn¡¯t excuse pillaging the vault.


    ¡°The bauble was crafted in Wolof,¡± the forlorn echo of a dying storm rumbled as the creature sighed with contempt. ¡°It¡¯s extremely sensitive to the Light ¡ª unlike my constructs ¡ª and so your companions¡¯ souls dangle over the abyss should you make a mistake,¡± the mist hissed with contempt. ¡°An elegant trap to enforce compliance.¡±


    Ah, Wolof. The home of cursed trinkets and awful decisions. I examined the dove with care for a few moments before admitting to myself that the danger of breaking it was too high. Could I risk leaving Arcadia and returning with somebody else to help negotiate? Possibly, but the King of Winter would probably laugh me off. The ugly weight of helplessness seeped over my thoughts like a fog of past regrets summoned forth from the bleakest parts of my past. I bit back my fury and exhaled.


    ¡°You¡¯ve stolen their souls,¡± I whispered as my fingers anchored themselves in the frozen tabletop.


    The dark-haired fae waved a hand and frozen sculptures of both of my companions appeared on either side of him, only to disintegrate into nothing more than white powder a moment later.


    ¡°You allowed mortals to follow you into the lands of the fae,¡± I flinched but held my ground as the words cut. ¡°I wonder where the blame lies?¡±


    They came because I asked them to help, and I¡¯ll make sure they leave in one piece.


    ¡°You said they¡¯ll wake up,¡± I pressed.


    An icy fog began curling from the King of Winter as he exhaled. A dark-skinned palm extended and set the dove atop the chilled surface. I heaved back my aura. Best not to risk breaking it by accident.


    ¡°They will wake with time,¡± the creature confirmed. ¡°Think of the trinket as a modified phylactery or soul box.¡±


    What could I do? The enchantment would undoubtedly fail if it ever came into contact with me. Even the idea of gambling on the hope that breaking it would restore their souls repulsed me.


    ¡°Some introduction,¡± I muttered as my nails gouged holes into my palms.


    Find out more.


    ¡°Your fascination with stories precedes you,¡± the King¡¯s voice echoed like a thunderbolt. ¡°Of how you conspire with your friend,¡± icy spheres pierced Roland for a moment, ¡°to do that which you cannot.¡±


    Ten years ago, I might¡¯ve interpreted that as the King of Winter admitting my tactic threatened him. I liked to think that now I saw a little further. An intelligent enemy would remove my advantages, regardless of how threatening they were. What to do? Demanding he restore their souls seemed like taunting the Dead King while visiting Keter, but¡­ they only served as a guarantee of my cooperation so long as they survived.


    ¡°Let them go,¡± I ordered as I clenched my fingers.


    My heart lurched as the dove¡¯s sapphire eyes flickered.


    A choir of lost souls wept through the frozen halls.


    Harrowed voices harmonized against the crystal pillars and chimed between the chandeliers.


    Then, an uneasy breath.


    A hollow not-light suffused every surface of the tomb.


    The chamber and its occupants: nothing else existed, as even the grains of sand in the hourglass froze.


    It¡¯s unsettling how silent Creation is when there¡¯s no sound at all.


    Silence died as the sovereign of Winter choked it out.


    An eerie not-noise haunted the halls in silence¡¯s absence. It sounded like staring at a mirror with another behind you and seeing yourself reflected infinitely, only, on one reflection there stood somebody else.


    ¡°Even the Meizans and Baalites learned with time that the waves bow to no King,¡± the hairs on my arms rose as I stiffened when the monster¡¯s voice slithered inside my ears. ¡°Are you bolder than them?¡±


    ¡°Release their souls,¡± I repeated.


    ¡°Mortal lives vanish faster than promises in Spring,¡± the fog whispered. ¡°Better they serve as incentive.¡±


    A suffocating air of tension plagued the tower apex.


    I forced myself to remain still.


    Gods, please forgive me if calling this bluff is a mistake.


    ¡°Give them back,¡± my voice cracked as the words echoed a third time.


    I met the steely eyes of the monster stare for stare as colour leached from the room.


    The monster sighed.


    That¡¯s right. I¡¯m not budging.


    ¡°If repetition was enough to stem the tide,¡± the King said, ¡°then Winter¡¯s tale would¡¯ve long since unravelled on its own.¡±


    Stick to the basics, Taylor. Holding heroes captive in Creation never ends well for the captor.


    ¡°This is a mistake,¡± I asserted.


    How many layers of hell would this negotiation turn into?


    ¡°How amusing,¡± words crackled in the air between us, ¡°that one so young thinks to teach me of mistakes.¡±


    First the Tyrant, now the King of Winter. This pattern would die here. Playing unwilling servant to a criminal mastermind for the uncertain benefit of rescuing a captive had been an act of stupidity that I had no intention of repeating.


    ¡°We can all learn more,¡± I countered.


    I required a crack to stick my chisel into if I wanted to escape from this trap. Actually¡­ his imprisonment was my leverage.


    ¡°My Hound of Winter told me of your second wish,¡± he mused.


    Larat talks with his boss? Colour me unsurprised.


    Were there any Earth stories I could wield against him here? Perhaps try to construe Summer¡¯s Sun as something like the Holy Grail? He fit the role of the Fisher King if I squinted through a dirty enough lens. Better that than something like Faust. It¡¯d be challenging to shove him into any story without being able to take any Role myself, but¡­ not impossible.


    ¡°Antagonizing the person fulfilling your dreams is a novel decision,¡± I challenged.


    How about flipping the hostage story? No, bad idea. Best not to jump into either of those hailstorms naked. I¡¯d been uncomfortable chipping at the sovereign of Winter¡¯s empire with the blade of narrative before he¡¯d taken away my support.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°A wiser woman builds her sandcastle higher up the shore,¡± he replied.


    His confidence rang false to my ears. A naked wound lay at the heart of my adversary. One that he couldn¡¯t hide from me. Only the King of Winter knew how long he had fought for his freedom. He wouldn¡¯t show his back to the best opportunity he had.


    ¡°A wiser sand monarch doesn¡¯t piss off the architect,¡± I retorted.


    The fog clouding the tabletop shrieked out a spectral dirge of despair as it broke ¡ª then returned an instant later ¡ª as murder rippled behind the monster¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Consider it an encouragement,¡± he replied.


    The throne groaned like a glacier, buckling under strain as the King rose. Miasma spread from the mouths of bleached skulls set along its base like tendrils reaching out to claim the room.


    Oh, look, Evil being Evil. That¡¯s as shocking as frost in Winter.


    ¡°Not helping,¡± I said.


    ¡°The naive musings of an untested mind,¡± he dismissed. ¡°You had no personal stake in our fate before my intervention.¡±


    This? All of this because he thought I required motivation?! Light danced on my fingertips. I drove stakes through my desire to strike against him before I made an irreversible mistake. It would be so easy to pit my will against his and lash out. I wouldn¡¯t win the fight, but I wouldn¡¯t lose it, either.


    ¡°I¡¯d have done it anyway,¡± my nostrils flared as my voice rose.


    I breathed in.


    Indulging my fury isn¡¯t worth the cost of my friend¡¯s lives.


    I breathed out.


    ¡°Our circumstances make slaves of us all,¡± a hint of menace laced his words. ¡°Now¡­ how about a bargain?¡± he strolled languidly before the throne. ¡°I¡¯ll return the souls of your mortal attachments to their bodies should you succeed.¡±


    The mental image of the table cracking under my fingertips bought me a moment¡¯s calm.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t the first to try controlling me like this,¡± I warned him as I stood.


    Snow trapped in the amber of frozen time clung to the air as the King of Winter opened the door and swept onto the balcony.


    ¡°The snow remembers everything,¡± he said as he picked out a stasis locked raindrop from the air and crushed it between his fingertips, ¡°even the shadows you¡¯d rather forget. It¡¯s fitting, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Repetition of tragedy held less appeal than swimming in Ater¡¯s sewers.


    ¡°They never upheld the bargain,¡± I explained. ¡°There¡¯s no reason to trust you, either.¡±


    ¡°Trust¡­¡± his voice trailed off almost wistfully, ¡°is a brittle blade, Taylor¡ªbetter to wield the weight of certainty than gamble on its edge. I have little use for mortals. They are fragile things that expire in the cold moments between three of my heartbeats.¡±


    The King of Winter almost had a point. The issue lay in the, ¡°almost.¡± Coil kept Dinah because of the value he placed on her power. The King of Winter might retain the hostages due to the leverage they granted him. Even less needed to be said about what would happen if anyone else discovered his successful use of hostages against me as a bargaining chip.


    ¡°Last time, I folded,¡± I murmured. ¡°I¡¯d do the opposite if I could go back in time and stop myself.¡±


    The mosaic in my mind crystallized for a heartbeat, before collapsing in the next instant.


    I shivered along with the Spire as the King of Winter turned around and laughed.


    ¡°The present mocks us all,¡± the monster acknowledged.


    My broken reflection stared back at me from the tabletop as I considered my next words.


    ¡°You need me,¡± I pressed. ¡°Your threat is empty, and we both know it.¡±


    I almost jumped towards Roland as blue frost creeped towards him before remembering the wooden dove sitting on the table between us.


    ¡°Empty?¡± a hint of danger threaded through his words. ¡°No, Taylor, it is merely well-worn. What threat remains sharp after eternity¡¯s embrace?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve had eternity,¡± I countered. ¡°Nothing has changed.¡±


    ¡°Yet here you stand,¡± the tower trembled beneath the weight of his words, ¡°bartering with me for lives you cannot save alone.¡±


    Why did the people I tried to assist keep pitting themselves against me? Why did they have to be so deplorable? Time and again, the fae turned themselves into obstacles. It burned like swimming in acid.


    ¡°I could refuse,¡± I countered as I stepped beside him on the balcony. ¡°Step aside unless you set them free.¡±


    Could I do it? Could I stand aside? I¡­ maybe? No, no, even if the possibility did exist I couldn¡¯t follow through with it.


    ¡°Can you?¡± the King mocked. ¡°What would remain of their souls when the season ends? The Tyrant offered to remove the Prince of Deep Drought from the conflict, provided I refuse to knowingly take any action which furthered the cause of Good for the span of this season in the aftermath.¡±


    The foundation of my entire understanding of events transformed with that one sentence. My hands tightened around the frozen railing. The sheer audacity of it rooted me to the ground. Anyone. He would betray anyone. Kairos intended to ruin everyone¡¯s dreams by creating some kind of logical trap through agreements with the different fae monarchs.


    ¡°That does nothing for you,¡± I enunciated each word with care.


    His promise and my own were incompatible. No, they were worse than incompatible. The Queen of Summer had negotiated for something similar but opposite. Fulfilling the King of Winter¡¯s Dream became inordinately difficult if Kairos killed the Prince of Deep Drought.


    There¡¯s a contradiction in the making here.


    ¡°Kairos Theodosian promised to fulfil my wish in exchange for something else,¡± the King said as his lips formed into a bloody crescent.


    The last flames of my hope that Winter¡¯s monarch required my assistance guttered out.


    He raised one hand and examined sharpened fingernails.


    ¡°That¡¯s not all he traded for,¡± I said from beside the monster.


    Devils during a church recitation were more useful than his last answer. What else could he have bargained for? Security of some kind. One bargain lay hidden behind the question of where I stood in relation to the red-eyed ruler of Helike. The second bargain stood in opposition to my own. There would be a third if his story mirrored my own.


    ¡°Many bargains were made under the lonely stars,¡± the false night deepened as he agreed. ¡°Of the seven players in this game, he¡¯s the one with the second most knives behind his back.¡±


    Seven players? Weren¡¯t there more? I blinked, then performed a silent headcount.


    Roland, Yvette, Sulia, the Queen of Summer, Larat, the King of Winter, the Tyrant, the hidden player and me.


    ¡°I count more than seven,¡± I commented.


    I winced as the balcony railing shrieked while he carved intricate glyphs into delicate frost with his fingernails.


    ¡°Princess Sulia is little more than a prop to be used by the real participants to proffer their own argument,¡± he dismissed my words.


    I winced in second hand sympathy. I didn¡¯t know enough about Princess Sulia to judge if that harsh evaluation of her competence held weight. That still left eight by my count. The King of Summer was either unaware of the hidden figure, or he¡¯d dismissed their significance, or he feigned ignorance of them.


    I had a hunch.


    ¡°Capturing Sulia must¡¯ve been quite the feat,¡± I fished.


    Capturing Princess Sulia on the fields of Summer presented the king of challenge that I doubted Kairos could achieve. He needed assistance from someone to pull it off. I¡¯d put my cards on the mystery player for the answer. Either the Warlock or the Ranger. It had to be. They had both the strength to subdue the Princess and possibly the mindset required to bargain with him. Another in a long list of people that Kairos intended to betray. An angry serpent coiled in the grass to strike when the hour struck midnight.


    ¡°She¡¯s been known to attend balls in Skade from time to time,¡± my interlocutor mused.


    ¡­ He either didn¡¯t know, or he found the feat less impressive than I did. That avenue of investigation had closed itself to me one way or the other.


    ¡°Give me Summer¡¯s Sun,¡± my heart leaped as the words flew from my mouth.


    I¡­ couldn¡¯t afford to stand aside. The Tyrant would undermine everything if I did, and my friends would still be missing their souls. I¡¯d always intended to negotiate with the King of Winter. Only, I¡¯d schemed around setting up an agreement where I had him on the back foot.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have it,¡± his eyes twinkled with dark amusement as he denied my demand. ¡°It¡¯s guarded by Larat at the boundary between seasons.¡±


    What? Why? No, obvious. Another bargain with either the King of Winter or the Prince of Nightfall. What did the Tyrant stand to gain? The Sun being present on that field presented me with the opportunity to claim it there. One that¡­ would¡¯ve come to pass had Yvette not bumbled the negotiation.


    I stiffened at the implication.


    Our group would¡¯ve avoided this meeting had we succeeded at the bridge and been unaware of the Tyrant¡¯s schemes. That realization doesn¡¯t placate me in the slightest. Not after what he did to Roland and Yvette. I¡¯m not leaving this tower empty-handed.


    ¡°Return their souls,¡± I demanded.


    ¡°Their souls will remain hostage until my will is done,¡± the King of Winter refused.


    His agreement with Kairos undercut all my efforts. Could I undermine it? Only one of us could win this race. My bargaining position became stronger the moment he lost confidence in his second horse.


    ¡°So,¡± I hardened my voice as I proposed my bargain. ¡°Here''s the deal: I ensure the Tyrant doesn''t sabotage your Dream for three boons, but not at the cost of my friends.¡±


    ¡°I see no reason to hear out any offers while I hold your companion¡¯s souls,¡± the dangerous fae replied. ¡°You may leave if you wish. Winter¡¯s end is nearer than yours,¡± his voice dipped, ¡°and theirs lies closer still.¡±


    I disregarded Winter¡¯s bite as I leaned over the balcony and stared at the frigid waters below.


    ¡°The Tyrant deceived you,¡± I told him, ¡°and I can prove it. I swear by the Gods Above, that he dreams to injure everyone in the way that hurts most,¡± I declared.


    ¡°Reneging on an agreement with me would be the height of folly,¡± he said with a steady voice.


    You can veil your words all you like, but I know my words struck a nerve.


    ¡°Not even you are exempt from his scheming,¡± I corrected. ¡°I also swear that his terms with you contradict my existing pact with Summer¡¯s Queen.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s proof of something else,¡± the King replied. ¡°He is bound by oath to assist me. His bargain stands if you fail.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t hold it,¡± I disagreed.


    The King of Winter examined me for several heartbeats.


    I examined him in return.


    The cracking of hail against the Spire¡¯s walls settled into a steady rhythm as the monster broke the amber and time took wing once again.


    ¡°No,¡± Winter breathed out as the King acknowledged my words. ¡°He is a storm without season. A child of Winter in name, if not in truth. Speak your terms and I will listen,¡± the King¡¯s voice dropped. ¡°Forget your place, Taylor, and Winter will remind you of it.¡±


    I almost opened my mouth and asked to free my friends immediately, before caution¡¯s whispers held my tongue. Acting on that thought would interrupt the story I¡¯d been establishing. I wasn¡¯t about to throw their lives away for a narrative, but I also wasn¡¯t about to throw away the narrative if it was the best chance to save their lives.


    ¡°The souls of my friends won¡¯t be traded away,¡± I stated with care.


    I swallowed bile as I contemplated what to do. Defeating the King of Winter in battle here ¡ª assuming that I even could ¡ª would come at a cost of so ruinous that I refused to pay the price. That left negotiation and capitulation. The swamp of negotiation threatened to drown the narrative we wove if I failed to traverse the perilous waters. I loathed the choice I¡¯d settled on. The thought of looking my friends in the eyes and telling them what I¡¯d decided nauseated me.


    ¡°I will neither trade them away nor release them early for one of your three favours,¡± the King of Winter confirmed my suspicion. ¡°They will remain in my custody until my will is done.¡±


    That leaves working this into the broader story. Be careful, Taylor. The order matters.


    Both the wording and intent of the first and second requests remained unchanged from the modified plan I¡¯d concocted with the help of Roland and Yvette. I had no intention of allowing fae troubles to follow me after I¡¯d succeeded, and both were necessary to clear myself of them. I also wouldn¡¯t risk the souls of my companions to the charity of the fae, which meant using the third request as insurance.


    ¡°Upon the successful completion of my quest to end the seasonal Cycle of Summer and Winter, all past debts, agreements, and obligations of any nature, written or unwritten, owed by me to any Winter fae, directly or indirectly, will be annulled.¡± I took a deep breath as I finished listing the first lengthy request.


    I¡¯d never have been able to word that without spending a year arguing with nobles.


    Mountains had easier faces to read than the glacier I bargained with. The stakes were too high for me to leave this to chance.


    ¡°Easily granted,¡± he acknowledged.


    ¡°The second is a key that has always existed and will always exist, forged from the deepest frost of Winter, imbued with Winter¡¯s timeless recollections of present defeats,¡± I listed the second request.


    ¡°A key,¡± he mused. ¡°What door are you trying to open? Whose chains are you trying to remove?¡±


    ¡°Not for you to know,¡± I snapped.


    The implacable monster stared down at me for an agonizing instant before he gave an almost imperceptible nod.


    I¡¯m sorry that I can¡¯t free your souls sooner.


    ¡°The third is the souls of my friends restored undamaged and unaltered to their bodies in the future at the moment when this cycle of seasons turns its last,¡± I grit my teeth as I recited the last request.


    ¡°Bargain struck,¡± the King of Winter smiled like a satisfied cat as he sealed the pact.


    I stomped down on my trepidation as the Spire of Darkest Dreams reverberated with his words.


    I¡¯d see this story through to a happy ending.


    I had to.

 Elysium 7.07

    ¡°Beware Winter¡¯s army: For while Summer crests from victory to victory, they march on spite alone.¡±


    ¡ª ¡®Essences of the Fae¡¯, written by Madeline de Jolicoeur


    <hr>


    On any other day, the scent of wood smoke and the dance of orange embers from the fire pit would¡¯ve reminded me of brighter times and lightened the weight on my chest. It did little to soothe me when the weight of failure clouded our thoughts. Roland sat on a log beside the fire and heated a boar over the open flames. Yvette huddled opposite him under a white woollen blanket. Her fingers twitched every now and again. The chill air congealed before her with every breath that she drew.


    The ever-present ghost of their hollowness haunted the edge of my thoughts.


    I could feel it ¡ª a horrible, empty, gaping wound that I couldn¡¯t heal ¡ª mocking my failure when I looked their way.


    The Angelic keening over my shoulders did little to comfort me.


    ¡°I know that it¡¯s insufficient,¡± my words were punctuated by another popping of the flames. ¡°That nothing I can say will fix this, but¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± I swallowed the lump in my throat. ¡°I invited you along for this journey, and you¡¯re the ones who¡¯ve suffered for it. Perhaps if I¡¯d-¡±


    ¡°The blame lies elsewhere, Taylor,¡± Roland sighed, leaned forward, and rested a palm on his knees as he interjected.


    It sounded as if he attempted to reassure himself more than me.


    ¡°But-¡± I could¡¯ve come alone.


    A flash of defiance hinted behind his brown eyes as he looked away from the fire.


    ¡°Did you load the dice, Taylor?¡± He asked.


    ¡°No, but-¡± I could¡¯ve decided not to invite either of you.


    The blanket dropped as Yvette stood and marched around the fire towards the log I sat on.


    ¡°Did you do everything you could to prevent it?¡± Yvette¡¯s voice trembled as she interrupted.


    I bit back at the words at the forefront of my mind. I bit back on telling her that she wouldn¡¯t sound like that if I hadn¡¯t invited her along.


    ¡°Yes, but-¡± it¡¯s my responsibility to care for you.


    ¡°You asked us to come with you,¡± her emerald eyes met my own as she snapped. ¡°You didn¡¯t order us. We knew the risks,¡± she clenched her firsts and spat on the snow to the side. ¡°We knew it wouldn¡¯t happen to you. So don¡¯t blame yourself.¡± Yvette bristled like a porcupine facing an overzealous predator. ¡°It takes away our-¡±


    ¡°Yvie,¡± I tried to interject.


    ¡°-own responsibility,¡± she ranted in a whiny teenage voice. ¡°I¡¯m not a kid any more-¡±


    ¡°Debatable,¡± Roland muttered. ¡°Especially considering that she thinks cake is an essential survival tool.¡±


    ¡°-I can decide things for myself,¡± Yvette¡¯s verbal barrage buried Roland. ¡°If I were smarter, none of this would¡¯ve happened. I failed-¡±


    Her voice cut off as I embraced her in a hug.


    ¡°Whether you want to be a sorcerer, a princess, a carpenter, or anything else,¡± I whispered, ¡°you¡¯ll always be good enough for me.¡±


    Roland met my gaze and gave a firm shake of his head, telling me to let it go.


    I swallowed back my next words.


    Yvette returned to her seat and buried her head in a book. She flipped the pages in quick, jerky motions. He eyes skimmed the text but never settled, and her fingers gripped the edges of the book in a way that screamed, ¡°leave me alone.¡± The familiarity it evoked turned my stomach and reminded me of darker memories. She only focused this intently when she desperately wanted to avoid necessary discussions.


    We sat like three sarcophagi in a graveyard while Roland tended to the fire.


    Shadows clung like frost to my thoughts as another pop from the fire intruded upon my malaise.


    I stood and went to help with the meal, trying to focus on something practical. Frosted grass snapped beneath my steps. A cosy nook which had once been part of a tropical Summer rainforest now suffocated under a thick layer of ice and snow.


    Thoughts circled like invisible tigers on the edge of the firelight while rummaging through our supplies. I knew my feelings were irrational, but that didn¡¯t stop them from sinking their claws in. Acknowledging the issue did nothing to mend it. Wishing myself to feel something else didn¡¯t achieve anything.


    My brow furrowed as I pulled out a bottle of Arlesite red. Who packed it? Certainly not me.


    ¡°Here,¡± I said, handing Roland the bottle.


    The memory of the first floor lingered, gnawing at the edges of my focus. I tried to push it aside, though it refused to stop pervading my thoughts.


    ¡°When did you revise your opinion on indulging in spirits?¡± he raised a bushy brown eyebrow my way as he asked.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t, but I might if this worsens,¡± I joked. ¡°Found it in the saddlebags. Did you pack it?¡±


    ¡°I thought that circumstances might call for it,¡± he confirmed.


    I held my composure, despite the pallor and quiver in his features.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s yours,¡± I said as I passed it over.


    A pop of the cork and he took a deep pull.


    ¡°Why not drink?¡± he inquired. ¡°There¡¯s no risk to you falling prey to the bottle.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I admitted quietly, ¡°but it¡¯s about more than that. It¡¯s about keeping promises to myself and others.¡±


    ¡°It is inevitable that oaths will conflict over the course of eternity,¡± he cautioned. ¡°You need to decide which ones to keep and which ones to drop.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± I agreed, ¡°but I¡¯m a long way away from needing to make that decision.¡±


    ¡°Best to make it now,¡± he disagreed with another pull, ¡°rather than be forced into it later.¡±


    I allowed the matter to rest.


    Roland swirled the wine in the bottle, watching the liquid catch the firelight, before setting it aside with a soft clink. He gestured towards the spit. I assisted him with the boar over the next couple of hundred heartbeats. Slices of meat were doled out to each person, and soon the three of us dug into our meals, cloaked beneath an oppressive silence.


    This isn¡¯t working.


    None of us were addressing our problems, and so long as that continued, it would come back to bite us later. Pressing the others might end in a verbal lashing and withdrawal, but¡­ I could open up myself.


    ¡°We all entered the tower,¡± my voice cut through the storm as I spoke around a greasy slice of pork. ¡°We all faced parts of ourselves we don¡¯t like.¡±


    The scraping of cutlery could hardly be heard over the bitter howling of the wind.


    ¡°It¡¯s unfair for me to judge either of you from the darkest parts of your reflection,¡± Roland averted his eyes as I spoke. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best not to.¡±


    Both of them looked up from their plates.


    ¡°Talking helps,¡± I continued. ¡°If you¡¯d rather stay quiet, I get it. Here¡¯s mine. The Spire showed me myself,¡± I whispered, ¡°because I¡¯m my biggest enemy. I can justify anything to myself with enough time. The se-¡±


    ¡°Taylor,¡± Roland interrupted. ¡°I would rather you not speak about this.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I blinked and inquired.


    ¡°We both understand what you attempt,¡± he said while gesturing to Yvette. ¡°I don''t wish to share my troubles yet.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t,¡± I replied.


    ¡°By unburdening yourself, you create an unspoken debt,¡± he explained. ¡°One that I would rather not weigh at the edge of my mind.¡±


    Avoiding problems doesn¡¯t make them go away.


    Should I press the matter? No. I bit back the unspoken truth, even as it burned the tip of my tongue. I didn¡¯t want to lose my friend. Forcing him to face his demons early was one way to do that. Whispers of the wind soon filled the void left by the departure of my voice.


    ¡°Let¡¯s discuss strategy,¡± the whispers died as I changed the topic.


    Roland narrowed his eyes at me before giving a shallow nod. Yvette looked up from her book.


    ¡°Kairos will betray everyone,¡± I explained. ¡°Even if it kills him. He wants to wound everyone in the way that hurts most, I paused. ¡°It¡¯s a pity. He¡¯d be brilliant if he devoted himself to Good. He¡¯s like a cut diamond. He shines, but you¡¯ll realize if you look closer that the gem was polished with blood. The reason he¡¯s hard to beat is that he has the simplest win condition. It¡¯s always easier to be the wrecking ball than it is to be the architect.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s about as surprising as spring raids in Rhenia,¡± Yvette grumbled sarcastically. ¡°How do we beat him? Our plan is complicated already. There are lots of parts to break. He only needs to undermine it a little, and he¡¯s already well on his way to succeeding.¡±


    Her claims weren¡¯t without merit. Our plans did hinge on pushing the conflict in a specific direction. One that would be easy to disrupt.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be hard,¡± I admitted. ¡°We need to adjust our plan so it can¡¯t fail.¡±


    ¡°Everything fails,¡± Yvette glared sullenly as she spoke. ¡°Look at me. Nothing works. Nothing ever works for me. Why-¡±


    Her voice cut off as I took a step towards her.


    ¡°-No hugs,¡± she groused sullenly, as if I¡¯d gifted her a viper.


    She leaned into it regardless.


    ¡°Attacking him outright could be disastrous,¡± Roland said. ¡°Should we prepare, or wait for him to make his move?"


    ¡°No,¡± I decided. ¡°It¡¯ll give him the momentum.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like letting him strike first,¡± Yvette complained. ¡°There¡¯s no telling how much damage he can do.¡±


    ¡°As much as he can,¡± I muttered under my breath. ¡°With at least three monologues to go along with because he thinks it''s funny.¡±


    ¡°There is another possibility,¡± Roland examined the flames as he mused. ¡°We could adjust the shape of our story into one where even failure is success.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ could work,¡± I agreed.


    Two fragile smiles lit up the camp.


    We discussed long into the night, but my mind returned to our earlier troubles. I allowed Winter¡¯s tranquillity to wash over me as I prayed.


    What should I do?


    Could I follow through with our plan without discussing our qualms first? I¡¯d never leaned this hard into using narratives as a weapon before. Heroes that entered major battles while quarrelling usually came through the other side better off from the experience. On the other hand: treating major conflict as relationship therapy flew against every instinct that I had.


    Could I afford to do otherwise?


    No.


    We¡¯d banked nearly everything on the success of this mission.


    Dawn arrived and we prepared for departure. Mounts bridled, burdens secured, we rose into the sky. Crisp air howled through my hair as we soared over trees buckling under the weight of snow. Tendrils of ice extended far into the territory once claimed by Summer. Trees that once bore succulent fruits now hunched under the weight of snow. Their branches were bare, their trunks less vibrant than skeletons. The air rang like frozen crystal in a brittle wind with every breath, a stark reminder that our time had nearly run out.


    The strength of Winter¡¯s grasp exceeded my expectations.


    The last green of fields were now blackened by decay, and Summer¡¯s many outer cities and bastions lay buried beneath mountains of frost.


    At long last, a familiar speck appeared on the ground. Storm clouds churned like warring tides with golden flames overhead, hinting at the conflict to come.


    We slowed and descended.


    All of us gawked mere moments later as details filled in. Aine¡¯s walls ¡ª once a symbol of Summer¡¯s might ¡ª now sagged under the weight of Winter¡¯s relentless siege. Frost coated their surface, creeping higher like an inevitable tide. Summer fae clasping golden banners rained fury from the walls on the entrenched army of Winter, only for it to splash harmlessly against seamless barriers of frost.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Winter¡¯s army had been divided into three hosts to the north, east and south of Aine¡¯s circular walls. Each host shared the same composition. Deadwood soldiers hunkered behind walls of frost on the ground, fae nobles patrolling the sky above and unicorns held in reserve.


    Princess Sulia and Prince Larat were nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°That¡¯s Kairos,¡± my eyebrows feather dusted the sky as I pointed to the west of Aine.


    Only the Gods understand the enigma of Kairos Theodosian.


    A ditch had been extended outwards perpendicular from the north-west of Aine. The army of Helike camped behind palisade walls, providing covering fire to a group of nymphs sallying forth against a platoon of deadwood soldiers to the north.


    ¡°Should we strike now?¡± Roland rested a hand on the pocket of his leather coat as he asked.


    Devils laughed from inside my stomach.


    ¡°No,¡± I swallowed back my desire to fight. ¡°It¡¯d be seen as a betrayal on our part. Summer wouldn¡¯t allow him to camp there unless he¡¯d allied with them. As ugly as it is¡­ we wait for him to betray them first.¡±


    I wouldn¡¯t even allow this much if they wouldn¡¯t return to life.


    ¡°Is that a ritual site?¡± Yvette asked as she gestured at a tiny irregularity ¡ª nothing more than a fingernail in length from our height ¡ª deeper into Kairos¡¯s camp.


    Light flared as I sharpened my gaze.


    A circular swathe had been scorched from Summer¡¯s fields, and a large flat platform had been raised just behind the palisade in the now empty patch. Wagons stacked high with reagents encircled the back side of the platform. Robed figures inscribed arcane sigils into bloodstained iron sheets. Large segments of the working flickered between darkened hues like a chameleon¡¯s skin. The entire structure had almost been completed.


    ¡°It is,¡± I confirmed.


    ¡°Can you tell me what it does?¡± Yvette¡¯s voice quivered even as she raised it. ¡°I can¡¯t see it from here. You know enough to guess, right?¡±


    My fingers tightened around the truce banner.


    I examined the ritual for several hundred heartbeats more before answering her question. The centrepiece of the array bore all the hallmarks of an adept or even master sorcerer. An elegant circle surrounding large piles of¡­something. Presumably a catalyst of some sort. That small piece showed signs of being designed by an artisan beyond my skill.


    The vast majority of the array ¡ª which stretched out a fair distance beyond the centre ¡ª appeared to be nothing more than the haphazard work of novices. Segments of poor spell work had been copied repeatedly. It reminded me of the kind of solution a five-year-old child would come to if asked to sum every number from one to a million. Plenty of paper wasted, even if the kid arrived at the right answer. The ritual had the same problem. The desolation would be¡­ considerable even if it worked.


    I doubted the Tyrant cared.


    ¡°It¡¯s a trap,¡± I declared. ¡°Designed to funnel power from something into a series of escapements and power an unspecified spell with it. I can understand most of the ritual, although I can¡¯t guess the end result.¡±


    ¡°Taylor,¡± Roland murmured, ¡°look to the field.¡±


    My eyebrows left the skies and inspected the surface of the moon as a frozen bolt tore wooden chunks from the walls of Aine. Sprouts of wood blossomed and repaired the hole only a moment later.


    I back traced the arc of the projectile. A subset of the deadwood battalion in the north had wheeled something that resembled a frozen ballista out from within their camp. The armies of Winter were not known for their strategic talent. Yet here they were, not only performing feats of engineering, but also employing both military discipline and strategy.


    ¡°See there,¡± Roland said, ¡°Kairos is launching an assault on Winter.¡±


    I exhaled as hundreds of Helike¡¯s soldiers pushed past their defences towards Winter. A small army of gargoyles circled overhead like vultures, cawing and taking bites from the fae in the air. His men ducked behind their shields as a barrage of bolts passed overhead.


    ¡°Puzzling,¡± I said with a frown. ¡°Any idea what he¡¯s doing?¡±


    Kairos directed his forces with a madman¡¯s glee, his laughter cutting through the chaos like a dragon¡¯s claw. Troops scrambled to obey his erratic commands, their faces a mix of awe and terror. Soldier after soldier would be shredded by the fae. Daggers bored holes into my heart. Should I intervene in their defence? Even the deadwood fae fought with the strength of lesser Named compared to the army under the Tyrant¡¯s command. Helikean bolts glanced off bark as if they were grown from steel.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Roland admitted. ¡°Of all of us, you are closest to a strategist.¡±


    False blood trailed down my lips as I set aside my desire to help. I glanced away. The empty sting of defeat stole over me. No, I¡¯d seen the devotion in his soldier''s eyes. The actual slaves ¡ª save for the ones lifting the platform with the throne ¡ª were back in his camp. Everyone else who fought wanted to follow the Tyrant.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a strategist,¡± I denied, ¡°but this isn¡¯t military strategy. He¡¯s setting up some kind of story. Kairos survives by knowing exactly when to run, even if it means trampling over others. He only loses when everyone else catches up to him.¡±


    This is also notable, but less important than the ritual.


    ¡°He¡¯ll betray Summer,¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°Just watch. Stab them in the back when the opportunity presents itself. Fits with everything else he¡¯s done. I bet if we cut him up, we¡¯ll find a special organ that just oozes with betrayal.¡±


    I cast my thoughts to the memory of the ritual and manifested a miniature illusion of it before us.


    ¡°We¡¯re not cutting anyone up,¡± I said sharply. ¡°Watch and tell me if anything changes,¡± I ordered Roland. ¡°What can you do with this?¡± I asked Yvette.


    She grimaced as she examined the ritual. Her eyed glazed over the drainage sections and narrowed in on the segment which I didn¡¯t recognize.


    ¡°This is supposed to animate something,¡± she stammered. ¡°I think it''s necromancy. I¡¯m not entirely sure. This isn¡¯t magic I¡¯ve used or recognize. The power expenditure is awful. Who de-¡±


    Necromancy? I scanned the centre of the site once again. The materials could be bones. It¡¯d even fit. Past Tyrants had a habit of throwing bone dragons crafted from their enemy¡¯s fallen at the walls of Delos. It lined up with what I knew about the Tyrant as well. I turned my gaze back to Yvette. The second fallback called for a major working. I¡¯d given up on it due to Kairos upsetting our plans but¡­ this presented an opportunity.


    ¡°Yvie,¡± guilt lanced me as I interrupted her gently, ¡°focus. Can you use it?¡±


    ¡°Probably not,¡± she mumbled. ¡°At least, not for anything complicated. It shares little similarity with any magic I use. I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m not good en-¡±


    Use plans where even failure is success.


    My heart thundered as the epiphany washed over me. A wave of guilt followed in its wake. Could I do this? Could I ask Yvette to struggle through a major working where I expected her to fail.


    ¡°You¡¯re fine,¡± her voice died as I interjected once again. ¡°Could you repurpose this into a scrying spell?¡±


    The Order of the Red Lion had succeeded in reverse engineering the scrying ritual used by praesi sorcerers over the past year. The principles were allegedly simple once they¡¯d been decoded, although I hadn¡¯t had time to read the theory myself.


    ¡°You want me to turn a ritual for animating zombies into a scrying ritual,¡± the words ambled out of her mouth with the speed of a tortoise.


    I¡¯ve heard you talking to slow wizards at Constance¡¯s Scar in that tone of voice.


    I did my best to ignore the tightness in my chest or the hot stinging at the corner of my eyes as more soldiers perished.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± my lips twitched upwards as I replied, ¡°the question isn¡¯t stupid.¡±


    A feminine winter fae with a presence that rivalled Larat turned its attention towards kairos¡¯s forces. Frozen hell rained down upon soldiers from above. The Tyrant ordered a retreat while the gargoyles harassed his foe.


    ¡°And to think you used to complain about my ideas being sloppy,¡± she complained.


    ¡°Write it down and frame it if it makes you happy,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°I suppose that I could do it if I cut out all the interesting parts in the middle,¡± she said with a sigh. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it be better to use this ritual for anything else? That¡¯s a lot of wasted power.¡±


    ¡°Could you,¡± I tested the words, ¡°scry something that happened in the past?¡±


    A Summer fae whose power rivalled Sulia¡¯s took to the field in contest to what must¡¯ve been Winter¡¯s princess. The Princess ignored the Summer Prince in favour of battering the army of Helike. Kairos¡¯s forces had pulled behind the palisade walls as the two fae royals battled overhead.


    ¡°Hypothetically?¡± she brushed aside a golden lock as she mumbled. ¡°It¡¯s possible. I don¡¯t see why it matters.¡±


    I feel like such a terrible parent for asking this.


    ¡°Yvie,¡± I said in a grave tone. ¡°Feel no pressure to follow through with what I¡¯m about to ask you. I understand if you say no, and I¡¯ll love you for it regardless.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed.


    ¡°What do you want me to do?¡± she accused.


    ¡°Think of yourself as the architect for this ritual. One responsible for building a tower,¡± I explained. ¡°A tower that will reach all the way up and touch upon the moment that the fae were first created by the Heavens.¡±


    Yvette tensed and stared at me for a long moment. I¡¯d told her this story before. She¡¯d understand the enormity of the task before her and why I felt so awful for asking her to undertake it.


    ¡°Fine,¡± my heart leaped as she nodded her agreement. ¡°That¡¯s easy to do in principle,¡± she whispered to herself. ¡°Erasing the centrepiece and replacing it with a far simpler construct isn¡¯t hard to do. I just don¡¯t see the reason.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to weave an illusion that crosses the full battlefield and rewrite the ending of the story,¡± I explained.


    ¡°That¡­¡± she trailed off. ¡°That¡¯ll take a lot of power to achieve that kind of feat. An unreasonable amount of power. We don¡¯t have anything near that much power. What about the des-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about the power,¡± I interjected, ¡°or the desolation. I told you I¡¯d blow up Arcadia if that¡¯s what it takes.¡±


    ¡°Taylor,¡± Roland heralded my attention. ¡°We¡¯ve been-¡±


    The buzz of wings alerted me to the arrival of one of the fae.


    ¡°Lady Taylor,¡± a musical voice whispered, ¡°Summer has little time for games. Who do you fight for?¡±


    A winged figure clad in an elegant green and gold jacket which wouldn¡¯t look out of place in Cordelia¡¯s court drew even with my platform. He juggled fiery green apples between his palms and tossed one every now and again at Winter fae below.


    ¡°The Tyrant will betray you,¡± I stated.


    ¡°The mortal is not our concern,¡± the fae said with his lips pressed in a line. ¡°He is bound by pact to kill the Princess of Silent Depths. So I ask again: Who do you fight for?¡±


    The next piece of the mosaic slotted into place.


    I pulled the cloth off the banner and stuffed it into a bag.


    ¡°Summer,¡± I said abruptly. ¡°Have you recovered the Sun yet?¡±


    ¡°The Sun remains in Winter¡¯s clutches,¡± the fae replied.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll reinforce the north wall,¡± I said.


    Both sides needed to balance on a knife¡¯s edge if I wanted to force them to capitulate. Summer stood at the verge of defeat, which meant¡­ they were the side I''d need to reinforce.


    ¡°Attacking the soldiers of Helike would violate our agreement,¡± the fae warned.


    ¡°I won¡¯t do anything unless they attack first,¡± I replied.


    The wind howled as we hurtled downwards and landed at the imposing base of the wooden wall. Mr apples hovered behind me like a bad omen. I scouted out a steward and handed off our mounts, before the three of us mounted the battlements. The walls lurched violently beneath us as another hail of projectiles struck, only for defenders to return a barrage of gold.


    Roland and Yvette flanked me as I stared between the teeth on the walls.


    Golden banners whipped as the wind screamed around us, their brilliance dimmed under Winter¡¯s shadow. Beams of liquid fire splashed against barriers of frost. The ground blackened as the inexorable advance of deadwood soldiers pressed ever closer. I raised a barrier of Light as another storm of darkness crashed against the walls. Yellow cracks spread through the once green and brown barrier beneath us.


    I winced.


    The fate of Aine looked grim.


    Were there any stories I could frame this fight as that I didn¡¯t need to play a part in? I didn¡¯t want to join the battle until the Tyrant had shown his hand, but I also needed to bait him out. Time. We needed time. I considered the stories I knew briefly and settled upon the least risky.


    ¡°There is a story from the land I came from about this,¡± I shouted across the battlefield. ¡°This isn''t a war, it¡¯s a race to Aine. The distance to Aine is not just far¡ªit¡¯s infinite. Every inch the armies of Winter close shatters into a hundred more. They¡¯re chasing a phantom, running faster, harder, breaking themselves against the idea of the walls. And by the time they fall, it won¡¯t be to steel¡ªit¡¯ll be to a race they could never even hope to finish.¡±


    Every mortal combatant paused and shivered as a feather-light presence brushed over the battlefield.


    The city rippled as a Summer gale whipped around it.


    Reality rippled with it.


    My perception of Aine warped as distances stretched out.


    The horizon itself folded inward. North, South, East, West. All were as one. The battlefield became an endless corridor where every step forward brought one no nearer to the goal on the other side. The army of Winter which had once seemed so close now appeared trapped in a living illusion where progress was forever denied.


    Another barrage of winter¡¯s projectiles fell from infinitely far away.


    None of them struck true.


    She must¡¯ve heard my words.


    I winced as my companions emptied their stomachs over the edge of the walls. Several tense moments passed where the onslaught continued unabated before Winter determined their efforts were futile. I smiled and whispered a prayer under my breath, thanking the Gods that my attempt at telling Zeno¡¯s paradox had worked.


    One step forward, and my grin widened even further.


    I¡¯m not participating in this story.


    The whispered warning of Angels trailed a chill across my neck.


    I glanced at the Tyrant¡¯s line, the distortion causing my mind to split in every direction. The pain of seeing everything simultaneously lanced through my head like salt over an open wound. I forced myself to focus. The cost of hesitation wasn¡¯t worth paying.


    A single crimson eye met my own from across the endless tunnel. I glared at the tyrant as I saw the slaves suspending the Tyrant¡¯s platform on their backs from behind the fortifications. He leaned back, even as his arms trembled on the sides of the throne.


    ¡°Oh, Taylor,¡± his voice sounded scandalized, ¡°how unsporting of you.¡±


    ¡°My gods find no issue with this,¡± I answered piously.


    ¡°Pfffft,¡± he snorted, ¡°even your advisor and pretty little princess think otherwise.¡±


    I spared Roland and Yvette a glance. Both of their mouths slammed shut. The filthy traitors.


    ¡°Never fear,¡± I joked. ¡°Their impiety is noted and will be held against them later.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± he said with childlike glee as he climbed to his feet. ¡°Then allow me to compose a strongly worded grievance.¡±


    The only reason I¡¯m allowing this monologue is that I can¡¯t interrupt it without violating one pact or another with Summer.


    ¡°Go on,¡± I waved dismissively and sighed.


    Let¡¯s get the Evil over with.


    Time almost seemed to slow as the two battling royals passed over the ritual site.


    The region behind the Tyrant¡¯s fortifications lit up and wailed like a banshee. Both royals struggled against invisible bonds, only to become caught in an eternal fall down a corridor with no end.


    With a flourish, he raised the ivory sceptre high and grinned as he spoke: ¡°The sun sets on the Age of Wonders, heralding the glorious chaos to come. My name is Kairos Theodosian, Tyrant of Helike. And I say that my Rule extends even beyond Creation. Come, Summer and Winter alike. Bend knee, or perish.¡±


    And there¡¯s the ¡®surprising¡¯ betrayal.


    Colour leached from the atmosphere as bolts of excess energy crackled up from the ritual and connected with the clouds above. Both fae Royals slammed into the circle below in spite of the abstract geometry. Dark tendrils twisted and writhed around the pile of bones. Two gargantuan skeletal dragons wreathed in shadows took to the sky only a heartbeat later and landed on either side of his platform.


    A lead weight sunk in my stomach as the Prince of Deep Drought died.


    No time to hesitate.


    Kairos had made a mistake. He¡¯d backed me into a corner in the one place where I didn¡¯t care about collateral damage and I had the bigger arsenal. He could raise the stakes as much as he liked. I¡¯d match him blow for blow.


    ¡°You said I couldn¡¯t attack Helike so long as they were on your side,¡± I addressed Mr apples. ¡°I assume this counts.¡±


    ¡°Yes-¡±


    ¡°Roland,¡± I turned towards him and interrupted the fae. ¡°Help Yvette sneak into the Tyrant¡¯s camp and disable the enchantments on the slaves. Then find and recover Summer¡¯s Sun.¡±


    ¡°What if it¡¯s-¡± Roland began.


    ¡°Yvette,¡± I interjected. ¡°Stick with Roland for now. Summer is likely to evict the Tyrant from those fortifications. Kairos has neither the time nor inclination to clean up his messes. See about building me my tower afterwards.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Me?¡± I asked rhetorically. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill those dragons.¡±

 Elysium 7.0b

    ¡°More? Now you¡¯re just being ridiculous. One flying fortress is enough to conquer Creation.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Empress Sinistra IV, the Erroneous


    <hr>


    Scythe-like claws twice the height of Yvette¡¯s mother tore through Arcadian earth as the bone-dragons flanked the Tyrant¡¯s dais. The left beast''s eyes blazed with blue light ¡ª frost swirling around its skeletal frame ¡ª while flames ignited around its fiery twin.


    ¡°-going to kill those dragons,¡± Taylor said before taking a step forward and throwing herself into the sky.


    The chaotic roar of a distorted battlefield flooded Yvette¡¯s ears. She wove a web of silence, but Taylor¡¯s halo shattered it instantly.


    ¡°Taylor,¡± Kairos¡¯s eyes widened as he dragged the name out, ¡°how compassionate of you to indulge me.¡±


    Yvette glared at her mother and reinforced the spell as she repeated it. This time she excluded noises selectively. Only the sounds she cared for would remain audible. She cast the spell on Roland as blessed silence engulfed her.


    ¡°Better to keep you talking than committing some other atrocity,¡± the radiant priestess retorted.


    Half a dozen arcs of Light sheared through the air, shattered by the cold snap of the leftmost dragon¡¯s glacial breath. The miracle splintered like glass. Yvette¡¯s breath caught as she observed the phenomenon closer. Should she inform her ma?


    ¡°Bone-dragons? That¡¯s what you¡¯re going with? Delos beat six of those without breaking a sweat,¡± Taylor mocked from somewhere overhead. ¡°What happened to learning from history?¡±


    Yvette dismissed it. Taylor would know that constructs fuelled by Summer and Winter couldn¡¯t be easily destroyed.


    ¡°Nothing less than expected for a mortal villain,¡± the fae duke sneered, ¡°I will lead the fight against Kairos Theodosian.¡±


    The fae energies reconstituted their bodies if they broke.


    It made dismantling the beasts complicated.


    ¡°That would benefit us both.¡± Roland said as he turned away from the fae before addressing Yvette. ¡°Did you hear Taylor¡¯s requests?¡±


    The brown haired charlatan lurched along the wall before stumbling down the stairs. Yvette wiped her mouth on her red sleeves after emptying her stomach. She staggered behind him again soon after.


    ¡°I did,¡± Yvette confirmed. ¡°Let¡¯s get to the horses and mount up. It doesn¡¯t matter which gate we exit from, so we¡¯ll take the closest one. Everywhere outside is more or less connected at the moment. Anywhere can be reached except Aine. I need to be near both the Tyrant and the slaves to free them. I think that-¡±


    The fae duke reared backwards and scowled as Yvette dry heaved again. Her jaws slammed shut as they continued their descent. Each step felt endless after witnessing the surreal chaos her mother had wrought with the Queen.


    ¡°Why does it twist so much?¡± Yvette complained. ¡°It feels like my thoughts are scattering like dust in the wind.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d thought you¡¯d be enthusiastic to witness this narrative.¡± Roland said, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°There¡¯s weird, and then there¡¯s this,¡± she gestured back as she retorted.


    ¡°What¡¯s madness to you may be poetry to someone else,¡± Roland countered.


    ¡°It¡¯s like trying to solve a puzzle missing half the pieces,¡± she muttered to herself.


    Scattered radiance illuminated the battlefield as roars shook the ground beneath them. Roland clambered onto his dappled horse moments after they reached the stables.


    ¡°Taylor¡¯s horse? She¡¯ll kill you if it bolts,¡± Roland called.


    The pure-bred Liessan flicked its ears back in annoyance and stamped a hoof, but it stood still, its nostrils flaring as Yvette approached.


    Such a majestic horse.


    ¡°She¡¯s quicker, okay?¡± Yvette blurted, avoiding Roland¡¯s sceptical gaze.


    Yvette stroked Taylor¡¯s horse and avoided her own mount¡¯s sullen glare.


    ¡°What about the reagents you require for interfering with the ritual?¡± he inquired.


    Hooves pounded against the stone road towards Aine¡¯s gates.


    ¡°All with me,¡± she affirmed.


    A company of gold bannered fae under the command of the duke trailed behind them. A terse few words were exchanged between him and Roland as the sally port opened.


    ¡°What light can you shed on our foes?¡± Roland¡¯s hair danced as he leaned forward.


    Winter¡¯s forces stood motionless at the horizon.


    Paved roads stretched through fields of green, clashing with the encroaching frost. Icy craters marred the Summer landscape as their addled mounts galloped, before halting in confusion. Futile. The word crawled through her thoughts, unwanted and insistent.


    ¡°Ma is stalling,¡± Yvette explained. ¡°It''s challenging even for her to destroy those constructs. They¡¯re fuelled by the animating force of two fae Princes. She might try to set up a story to defeat them on her own, but I doubt it. There is an easier possibility. They¡¯ll both fall apart if the Tyrant dies or the spell unravels.¡±


    The Helike camp folded into abstract shapes ¡ª much like everything else in this nightmare tunnel ¡ª but it simplified the headache to narrow in on a single point.


    ¡°She won¡¯t risk striking either until the slaves are freed,¡± Roland surmised.


    Yvette had to ignore her own burning curiosity and not think about the madness that surrounded her. Up, down, left, right. It didn¡¯t matter where she looked. All pointed the same way. Down.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Yvette agreed. ¡°Which leaves this next part for us. There¡¯s also nothing preventing us from doing both ourselves if we get the chance.¡±


    The battlefield had been transformed into a storied trap with no end. Straight lines twisted like tangled threads, walls of ice where the top and the bottom touched.


    Meaning frayed, the world consumed itself in defiance of logic.


    But did meaning have any purpose to begin with?


    Just one more glance. What harm could it do? Yvette squashed the thought immediately.


    Oh, all the things she could learn.


    ¡°Must be refreshing for Taylor, fighting without that conscience weighing her down,¡± the curly haired rogue quipped.


    ¡°Enjoying this?¡± Yvette screeched. ¡°I¡¯d bet she¡¯s cursing fate for making her clean up this mess.¡±


    A tense silence crept over them like errant thoughts.


    Wind tore at Yvette¡¯s hair, sending golden strands whipping across her face. Her mount¡¯s hooves thundered against the ground, each stride jolting through her bones.


    She shaded her eyes and examined the battlefield.


    Her heart stuttered like her frantic handwriting as she noticed a pale skinned Winter fae contesting a fiery woman clad in vines further along the tunnel. The first gripped an ominous box under one arm as he ducked and wove, wielding sculptures of frost in opposition to fiery armaments. The Prince of Nightfall and the Princess of High Noon, it had to be! She squinted as she spotted a lone cloaked figure darkening the furthest recesses of the warped passage.


    What else could she observe?


    What else could she learn?


    Perhaps if she looked¡­


    A shimmering dome of Light flared above, blinding Yvette as it clashed with the icy breath of the dragon. Frost hissed and cracked against the radiant barrier, cascading down like daggers of cold. Three blows and the aegis cracked, under the weight of draconic claws.


    Yvette gasped and squeezed her reins hard as she almost toppled from her horse. Her head spun. Why hadn¡¯t she glanced away? Her thoughts turned blue, yelped, then scattered like startled birds. It was like looking into her dimensional pocket and discovering the walls had come alive.


    ¡°How close to the Tyrant do you need to be to dispel the enchantment?¡± Roland exclaimed.


    Yvette stared towards Helike¡¯s encampment.


    Infantry guarded the road, with a ditch and raised dirt banks behind them, topped by crossbowmen and a palisade. A crackling bolt leached colour from the stormy sky as it rose from behind the barrier. Yvette shuddered. The canitude of the desolation heralded nothing pleasant. She brushed the thought aside. Soon they would pass into range of enemy projectiles.


    ¡°Within a hundred paces!¡± the blonde teenager replied.


    Bitterness stole over her as the dizziness faded away.


    ¡°You¡¯re more likely to elect a monarch in Bellerophon than achieve anything worthwhile this way!¡± the dark haired priestess challenged.


    ¡°Now there¡¯s an idea,¡± the Tyrant said, cackling.


    ¡°Yes, do that,¡± a barrier of Light intercepted a skeletal draconian claw as Taylor cajoled. ¡°Just think of how funny it¡¯ll be.¡±


    ¡°The joke of all times,¡± a malevolent red eye blinked from everywhere as Kairos agreed.


    You know what would be even better?¡± Taylor¡¯s voice veered as she evaded a wall of flames and sent the fiery monstrosity toppling from the sky with a lance.


    ¡°What?¡± The brown haired boy leaned forward as he replied.


    ¡°Doing it peacefully,¡± Taylor suggested. ¡°Imagine how hard it would be.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ peace,¡± the Tyrant stroked an imaginary beard as he mused, ¡°isn¡¯t that the thing you get when all your enemies are dead or broken?¡±


    Flash!


    Ripple.


    Sigh.


    Bang!


    Yvette didn¡¯t need to glance above to feel the oscillating helix of Light before it struck the dragon¡¯s wing. White of Salt, black of caramel, red of pepper, a drop of blue water on the tongue. The story had coiled itself so tight around them that she could taste the colours of the groove that had carved itself into creation.


    Three hundred paces.


    Yvette¡¯s fingers traced silver patterns into the air, while the other hand clutched tight at Pandora¡¯s reins. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°Gods Above see us safely through this battlefield,¡± Roland muttered from her left.


    The thrum of wings signaled another Summer fae cohort. Yvette''s gaze shifted from the distant palisade, but how? All points were as one. She glimpsed whatever she cared for without moving her eyes. And yet Arcadia Resplendent operated this way as if following nonsense rules. How did it work this way? They moved and yet they did not.


    Her hands tightened around the reins as the edges of her mind bubbled.


    Much like when she left a potion unattended for half an hour too long.


    She dry heaved again.


    Too much.


    It was too much.


    Two hundred and fifty steps.


    The entire formula warped as the rightmost targeting glyph reddened, and the vacuum spell which she had intended to use on the Helikean infantry lined between them and the ditch instead detonated in the sky.


    A skeletal wing that had been struck loose by another beam of Light exploded into a rain of splinters and fell upon their ranks. Shields rose, but the gap left by her spell was transitioned into by Roland. He brandished an ash-grey wand and sent a concussive wave of air that scattered the soldiers.


    An ominous red glow suffused the golden lion¡¯s head of the ivory sceptre as Kairos flourished it towards Taylor. Yvette¡¯s heart rattled like her laboratory equipment during a failed experiment as the second dragon¡¯s jaws closed around her mother.


    Taylor shifted into an amorphous cloud of Light that hissed as it ate at sorcery. The dragon recoiled, twisting mid-air before crashing into a line of Summer fae. A gaggle of gargoyles pounced on the opened groove. Mournful shrieks echoed from marble mouths as stone claws gouged holes in their golden banners.


    A third of the distance had vanished.


    Yvette pulled the oval badge from her pouch, grimacing. She felt unworthy of wearing it. The steel ornament marked with the outline of a yew tree also wouldn¡¯t help with her spell. She deposited it as she reached in again and withdrew a broken mirror.


    Another dozen paces, gone.


    Yvette began muttering an incantation for an illusion anchored on her foes. Three discs of Light carved towards the Winter dragon.


    They detonated as the monster deflected them with a cone of ice and blinded the second wave of infantry barring the path ahead. The air rippled with invisible seams as her spell twisted before it finished. Roland twirled his wand and another blast of air struck. Thirty men let out choked screams. Their insides became outsides as they were grated like cheese in moments.


    Ma won¡¯t be happy about this.


    Yvette averted her eyes.


    Only a hundred and fifty paces to go.


    Yvette¡¯s stomach lashed around like Ratling tails as she observed the narrative phenomenon. It stung like the kiss of another failed spell. She brushed the traitorous suggestions in her thoughts aside and prepared her next spell in step with the story that unfolded. Her ma had asked this of her. She¡¯d trusted her with this task.


    A hand reached into her dimensional pocket and withdrew a chunk of amber as a barrage of bolts screamed towards them from Helike¡¯s ranks. She spared a glance upwards as she raised the crystal and began to incant.


    A harsh corona of Light blazed in the sky above as Taylor ran along golden platforms upwards towards her foe. Could Yvette replicate the feat herself? It¡¯d be faster than riding on horses like this.


    Pandora snorted as the two of them passed the first line of foes.


    ¡°History will remember you as nothing more than yet another villain who monologued their way down a cliff,¡± Taylor derided. ¡°Why not do something that matters for once?¡±


    The mounds of packed dirt towered over them as another dozen steps vanished.


    ¡°Memories are for tombstones,¡± the Tyrant snickered as he replied. ¡°I prefer to live in the now.¡±


    Soldiers wailed as they died to fiery fruits or scorching lances cast by furious Summer fae behind them.


    ¡°You say that,¡± Taylor replied, ¡°and yet you¡¯re the only villain like this.¡±


    A shimmering arc of Light intercepted a skeletal draconian claw.


    Three circles cut by two triangles. Another sigil shimmered as Yvette completed it. Taylor blasted away a fan of ice from the singled winged beast on the left and enclosed it in brilliant chains.


    ¡°I know!¡± Kairos lamented from his dais. ¡°Really, villains these days have no sense of commitment.¡±


    ¡°A tragedy, I¡¯m sure,¡± Taylor deadpanned.


    The monster writhed. Smoke curled from its body as it fought against chains of searing light. How did it even remain airborne with only one wing? Winter, it had to be. Time flowed in reverse as shadows wrapped themselves around the shards of broken bones on the battlefield and tugged the scattered splinters towards it.


    Yvette examined the process for a few heartbeats.


    Furious tears trailed at the edge of her eyes as she allowed the words to twist in her mouth. The stasis field she¡¯d intended to catch the arrows slowed the bones instead. A column of golden flames whooshed past her and swallowed the rising remains. Roland flourished his wand again and bolts dispersed around them.


    Bitterness ate at her.


    Her shoulders slumped.


    Another failure ordained by fate.


    Less than a hundred paces remained.


    The chains vanished as the second creature bore down upon Taylor from the right. Yvette pocketed the amber and withdrew a silken cocoon as an incandescent pillar smashed the beast away from her ma.


    Roland put away the wand and fished out a jade figurine of a sitting man holding a cup. The soil beneath the soldier¡¯s feet turned to thick mud as the figurine flashed. Green glyphs blazed in the air and mud rushed like water to fill the ditch ahead of them as Yvette raked her fingers before her. Another spoken word and mud sighed as it hardened once again.


    Taylor summoned chains around the crippled monster again and heaved it away from the sky above Helike¡¯s camp.


    ¡°They¡¯re all about victory at all costs,¡± Kairos whined.


    ¡°Woe is me, Evil isn¡¯t Evil enough,¡± Taylor said sarcastically.


    ¡°Quite right,¡± the Tyrant mourned. ¡°No sense of dedication. They¡¯re as boring as that city of scribes,¡± the boy¡¯s voice dipped as he collapsed into his throne, ¡°and I¡¯d rather make a spectacle than a scroll.¡±


    ¡°All this complaining about days gone by,¡± Taylor drawled. ¡°You¡¯re the first Evil geriatric teenager I¡¯ve met.¡±


    The Tyrant laughed from the back of his retreating platform as he flourished his ivory sceptre. Taylor scattered into a nimbus as the second beast assaulted her from the right. The fiery beast struck against the golden chain, only to send its undead brother plummeting towards the ground.


    Crash!


    A tide of loose dirt washed over soldiers as the single winged dragon slammed into the fortifications ahead of them. Yvette winced in sympathy even as she incanted once again. Who knew how many had perished? A whirlpool of ice and shadows swirled around its shattered body, obscuring the monster from view entirely.


    Pandora¡¯s hooves rang against the road as they bore down upon Helike¡¯s broken fortifications. A chill stole over them all as the ice-bound dragon reconstituted itself. Billowing clouds of darkness dispersed, revealing a serpentine creature as much ice as it was bone.


    Symbols shimmered and pulsed in the air around Yvette. They hummed with energy as her voice wove the binding spell. Each word she spoke tugged the air tighter, limiting the world around her.


    ¡°You know these dragons are more footnotes than threats?¡± Taylor taunted.


    Roland muttered a prayer under his breath as he withdrew a now familiar dragon oak wand and pointed it at the monster. A volley of fiery projectiles smashed into it. The beast reared back, only to be hoisted into the sky by a golden lasso.


    ¡°Footnotes?¡± Kairos placed a palm over his heart and gasped. ¡°Why, Taylor, I¡¯d argue they¡¯re masterpieces.¡±


    Yvette scowled as another word slipped. Binding became blinding, and Helike¡¯s last line of soldiers cried out as their eyes transmuted to wood.


    ¡°This ploy failed every time it was tried,¡± Taylor said as she dispersed a vortex of flames with a radiant beam.


    A dozen cackling gargoyles plummeted towards them, then shattered under a concentrated barrage of golden flames from the banner wielding Immortals. Stygian sorcerers raised both their hands and their voices in incantation, only to lose both to perish in a hail of fiery fruits. Ephydriads marched deeper into the Tyrant¡¯s camp after following them through the breach. Yvette winced. The slaves Taylor was trying to free weren¡¯t likely to survive their onslaught.


    It¡¯s about trying to do the right thing.


    ¡°Details, details,¡± the Tyrant laughed.


    Kairos flourished his ivory sceptre as his platform retreated, slaves hauling it toward the battle between Sulia and Larat. Ranks of soldiers formed around him as a woman standing beside him bellowed orders. Projectiles of ice and fire alike struck against a golden sphere as both airborne lizards circled Taylor like airborne sharks. Bone flaked from Summer¡¯s dragon, only to be reborn in flames.


    Yvette¡¯s hackles rose as the two of them slowed and dismounted as they approached the site of the Tyrant¡¯s ritual.


    ¡°It bears all the hallmarks of a classic Praesi villain¡¯s handiwork,¡± Roland muttered as he examined it, ¡°grandiose and impractical.¡±


    The once two-dimensional construct now floated in the air. Glyphs traced hypnotic patterns while pulsing between dark red and black. Roland flinched as another malignant bolt of darkness crackled skywards from the outer boundary.


    ¡°He¡¯s animated two bone-dragons with the power of upper fae nobility,¡± Yvette replied. ¡°I don¡¯t think practical or efficient matters any more.¡±


    Yvette¡¯s heart thundered. Could she? She shouldn¡¯t, but here was a chance to make her mother proud. Taylor always said she was proud of Yvette anyhow. Perhaps it was even true. It didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°There is truth in that,¡± Roland agreed.


    Yvette¡¯s hands trembled as a volatile storm of shadow and flame bore down upon the ritual site.


    ¡°See, a masterpiece!¡± the mad ruler exclaimed.


    A sheet of Light rippled across the sky and intercepted the tempestuous conflagration.


    ¡°There are better ways to waste money,¡± Taylor replied.


    Esme ¡ª the horrible girl ¡ª had earned Taylor¡¯s trust. She¡¯d been given authority to act in Taylor¡¯s stead in the House of Light while they were in Arcadia. Her mother didn¡¯t see Esme as cute, she saw her as capable. Yvette yearned for more than just unconditional approval. She wanted to be acknowledged for what she could achieve as well.


    Yvette set aside the surge of guilt she felt and considered the opportunity. The ritual had been designed by a villain, and thus it didn¡¯t surprise her that it had no safety limitations on how much power could be funnelled through it.


    ¡°This is more complicated than I expected,¡± Yvette admitted. ¡°He¡¯s bound the lives of the slaves into the ritual as well.¡±


    A thirteen-by-thirteen-by-thirteen cubic grid bounded by twenty-three flickering braziers occupied the centrepiece. Could she repurpose this into something more? Cut out the parts which were strictly Praesi and fill it with something of her own? Perhaps. It was fortunate that she hadn¡¯t discerned this while examining the two-dimensional projection of the working. Her ma wouldn¡¯t have missed the glint in her eyes or the lie that followed.


    ¡°Is it beyond you?¡± Roland asked, concerned. ¡°The escapement looks like standard Trismegistan sorcery, if a little bare.¡±


    Besides, Taylor had asked her to build a tower of hubris. A ritual where they would win regardless of the outcome. Yvette was tired of failing. Here she would succeed so spectacularly that nobody could doubt what she¡¯d done. Yvette squashed the whispers of doubt. Was it really wrong to give this her best attempt by trying to usurp the working as part of a greater spell?


    ¡°It isn¡¯t,¡± she denied, ¡°Disentangling them is possible. Fortunately, distance to the slaves no longer matters. It all falls apart if I fix this, but there¡¯s also a trap. It¡¯ll expend as much of the two prince¡¯s power as it can and blow up if not stopped.¡±


    Why settle for an illusion of changing the past? She¡¯d been studying the both Titan¡¯s leavings and the Winter fae for over a year. She¡¯d understood enough to glimpse the shape behind the curtains. The past could be changed. With no power limitations and two fae princes to fuel her working, who knew how much she could achieve?


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll leave this in your hands,¡± Roland declared. ¡°See in the distance.¡±


    Yvette followed the trail of his fingers. The fae duke had departed their company and joined the fight between Princess Sulia and Prince Larat.


    A fight which was swiftly approaching Helike¡¯s camp.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to claim the Sun?¡± Yvette inquired.


    Roland acknowledged her words with a silent nod. He negotiated a guard with half a dozen golden banner wielders for Yvette while she prepared to repurpose the ritual.


    Yvette reached into her pocket dimension and withdrew one reagent after another. More vindication. Other sorcerers could prepare many of their workings in advance. Not Yvette. Scatterbrained, stupid, incapable Yvette. Her magic lost intensity if it wasn¡¯t prepared at the moment, or if it didn¡¯t fail in a way that she didn¡¯t find funny.


    Roland and Taylor had hardly struggled through their visions in the Spire of Darkest Dreams. Yvette had almost trapped them there permanently. Sure, Taylor¡¯s talk with her copy had been uncomfortable to listen to, but¡­ she changed her mind on things. It wouldn¡¯t be that hard to convince her that she was wrong, right?


    Yvette muttered a brief prayer under her breath. All the others had their part to play. She had to prove her worth, or she¡¯d be left behind. She was the weight pulling everyone else down. How long until they realized it and cast her aside?


    No, don¡¯t think that way.


    She¡¯d push past her own failures and earn the trust she¡¯d been given.


    She¡¯d succeed where it mattered for once.


    Her fingers tightened around the handle of the dagger Taylor gave her. One cut, then another, then another. Lines traced into an iron sheet.


    She winced as she sliced her palm by accident and blood pooled in the grooves.


    Clean. It needs to be clean.


    She¡¯d need to hide that from Taylor, but what did it matter if she bled a little?


    It was fine so long as the spell worked, right?


    ¡°You walk among the bones of the past, Taylor,¡± Kairos¡¯s fading voice declared. ¡°My dragons reign here.¡±


    Yvette stared skywards as a stillness swept over the battlefield.


    ¡°You dragged out past dragons, Kairos,¡± Taylor¡¯s voice gained confidence as she spoke. ¡°But I¡¯ll bury them with the dragons of the future.¡±


    A ghost of a younger Taylor shrouded her mother for an instant, before disappearing. Taylor erupted into brilliance, her body reshaping in a cascade of radiance. Two slits of molten gold pierced the battlefield. Luminescent claws curved from her fingers, and her metallic wings unfurled with a thunderous crack that silenced the chaos.


    A sinuous tail twirled and struck the Winter dragon above absently.


    Yvette gawked.


    Why couldn¡¯t Taylor just delay the damn thing?


    How was Yvette supposed to account for this?

 Elysium 7.0c

    ¡°Sixty-four: While the person your nemesis just betrayed might be another ally, they could just as easily be another knife positioned to stab you in the back.¡±


    ¡ª ¡°Two Hundred Heroic Axioms¡±, author unknown


    <hr>


    The warped battlefield felt eerily quiet once one took into consideration the fact that the cacophony of combat hadn¡¯t abated. Taylor and Kairos had ceased trading barbs now that he¡¯d begun his rear-guard manoeuvre. And it was a rear-guard manoeuvre, not a retreat. Another might¡¯ve been fooled, but Roland was wise to the tricks of the Tyrant. He¡¯d spent enough time in Taylor¡¯s counsel to know when a scheme played out.


    Kairos Theodosian wouldn¡¯t leave without planting a knife in everyone¡¯s back.


    He still had many more to spare.


    Roland recoiled as a childlike laugh echoed from further ahead.


    A line of Helikean crossbowmen sighted him.


    The tents blurred in his vision as he leaned forward on his dappled stallion. It was darkly humorous how slow the soldiers appeared as their weapons rose in unison. Roland summoned forth a wand from his pouch. The quartz at the Pelagian artefact¡¯s tip vibrated as it heated. It unleashed a blast of air that swept through the retreating soldiers and scattered their bolts a heartbeat later.


    Roland scowled as the magic struggled against his control.


    Wild magics contested his ethereal grip, causing the focusing crystal to shatter. The brown-haired rogue suppressed a curse. Despite the House of Light''s funding making artifact acquisition a mere formality, the loss of the crystal still stung deeply. He dared not draw magic from the parched riverbed where his soul once flowed since their clash with Winter¡¯s monarch.


    Now, he drew from his dwindling collection of rare relics instead.


    It stung each time one of the precious tools he¡¯d sooner not part with broke from overuse.


    Roland slipped the rod into his pocket as his mount bolted behind the next wooden barricade. His weathered hand trembled as he drew a fluted wand. The modest potential it held was a far cry from the grandeur of Taylor¡¯s blazing miracles. With a deft flick, he unleashed a flurry of radiant projectiles, scattering the crossbowmen like leaves before a sudden gust.


    A chill ran down Roland¡¯s spine as an ominous hiss split the air. His eyes darted toward the source of the sound. A bolt of nothingness crackled upward and challenged the seasons for dominion over the heavens. Roland¡¯s grip tightened. With each grain that fell from the hourglass, the Tyrant¡¯s spell spiralled further out of control.


    He had to trust that Yvette could reign in the ritual before it swallowed them whole.


    A deafening roar was his first warning before a surge of flames tore through the air as the Summer dragon dove and crashed into the fortifications ahead. Roland tore his gaze away from the sight as the enemy ranks accelerated their organized flight. The beast struggled to rise from the wreckage of a supply dump, only to be battered again by a concentrated breath of Light.


    His knuckles whitened as his horse reared at the sight. He fought to steady the beast, then with a single hand, he tapped the garnet-studded bangle around his leg. The stallion relaxed as soothing energies flowed into its tense body.


    Please, Gods, spare my tools from any more of Taylor¡¯s ¡®incidental damages.¡¯


    The brilliant barrage engulfing the Summer Dragon faltered as the Winter Wyrm lunged at the draconic priestess in the sky. Her frilled neck dissolved into a nebulous mist, consuming pieces from the beast before she reformed and clamped down upon its throat. Ice shattered under an incandescent strike. The skeletal drake lashed out, sending her sprawling with a gust of darkness and frost.


    Roland shifted his attention away from their aerial clash to the grounds below.


    Organized bands of Summer fae had marched outwards from their point of incursion. Roland tried to ignore the eldritch horrors older than the written word who were gleefully turning the Helikean camp into a roaring inferno as he trailed behind the Tyrant¡¯s retreating army. Then the force split.


    The bulk turned toward Winter¡¯s lines, where deadwood soldiers parted to allow Kairos¡¯s troops to bolster the defences. Barriers of Light manifested before them, only to be struck down by a relentless cascade of frost. Summer¡¯s forces trailed behind them uncertainly. A few violent skirmishes flared before the banner wielding fae and their cohorts withdrew from that front.


    Roland passed behind a mound of loose dirt as the Summer dragon took flight. His mind trailed along the groove. What would it mean to be more than what he was? To be more than merely a finger righting tilted scales. He shook his head. A battlefield was not the place to become mired in thoughts.


    He pulled a moonstone-studded silver ring from his pouch. Use, he winced as he scraped the now hollowed out place his soul should be raw. Both his form and that of his horse blurred a heartbeat later. It wouldn¡¯t fool the Fae, but it would hide him from the other combatants.


    He dismissed the larger force, and focused his attention on the Tyrant¡¯s back.


    The villain carved a path toward the clash between Sulia and Larat. Roland had thought that it was a mistake when Taylor had let the Tyrant leave at their first meeting, but he''d held his tongue. Now, her moral stubbornness had come home to roost.


    He spurred his mount onward as his thoughts returned to Taylor.


    For how long could she hold back both Summer and Winter alike?


    How long until another card slipped from the tower she¡¯d built and the whole structure collapsed?


    The sanctity of his soul hinged on the answer.


    It gnawed at him whenever his mind wandered.


    Their group had thrown themselves into a devil infested tunnel with no end in sight.


    The visit to the Spire had been illuminating. It helped with clarifying both his own purpose and deepened his understanding of Taylor. As captivating as she was, faith like hers burned too bright for him. Even the most pious would rarely condone calling upon angels for all but the most catastrophic conflicts. That realization had purged the last remnants of his infatuation, leaving wariness in its wake.


    Taylor had transformed from the aimless girl he''d first encountered on Procer''s roads. Her unwavering devotion to the Gods Above now eclipsed all else. What once seemed noble now appeared treacherous, and the zeal he¡¯d once found alluring unsettled him. He¡¯d thought she might become like an angel but hadn¡¯t grasped what that meant.


    Angels were absolute in their purpose.


    And she became a better approximation of one with every day that passed.


    He still considered Taylor a friend, albeit one who with a fatal flaw. A flaw that he¡¯d take it upon himself to help her overcome. She valued Roland¡¯s counsel, and with time he could guide her along a gentler path. The girl he¡¯d met wouldn¡¯t be pleased with the woman she¡¯d become.


    That wariness had to be set aside in the face of a more immediate concern. The Prince of Deep Drought had already perished. Plans upon plans began to unravel, and Taylor had trusted him to weave the threads together. Their agreement with the Queen of Summer wasn¡¯t worth the air it was spoken with unless he returned with the Sun.


    Two dozen fiery emerald projectiles streaked overhead and collided with a howling wind. A Winter duke swooped high, retaliating against his Summer counterpart. Most attacks fizzled harmlessly, but a few scattered wide. Roland¡¯s heart raced as he urged his mount away from the onslaught.


    The clash between Sulia and Larat climbed from the Helikean encampment to a crumbling summer palace perched on a distant mountainside plateau. Roland urged his dappled horse past the camp¡¯s edge, following the battle¡¯s ascent. His mount reared as two dragons slammed into the road ahead, ploughing furrows of upturned soil.


    Taylor soared skyward. Her luminescent claws clamped onto the Summer dragon¡¯s frame with every beat of her wings. A silver barrier shimmered into existence behind her as she dragged the beast back into it. Plumes of frost fell from above and were funnelled into her gleaming trap as the dragon fought against its binding.


    The necromantic beast thrashed and fragmented limbs of Light, only for them to reform less than an instant later. Winter¡¯s frost hammered against fire-wreathed limbs, forcing the creature deeper into Taylor¡¯s corrosive hold. A candle contested the might of a storm as each successive coruscating wave of Summer¡¯s flames sputtered weaker than the last.


    Roland was sure that it wouldn¡¯t be long before the monster was annihilated.


    A quiet voice muttered at the back of Roland¡¯s mind that nobody should wield that kind of power.


    His eyes snapped away as two dozen stray emerald fireballs streaked toward him.


    He yanked his mount aside but couldn¡¯t avoid them all. A searing orb struck the beast¡¯s throat. He released the reins and grimaced, tucking into a roll before staggering upright. He brushed off the dust and pressed onward, and spared a fleeting regret for the saddlebags he¡¯d lost with his mount. Shadowy tendrils of doubt clawed at the fragile walls of his resolve.


    Roland cursed under his breath.


    Tracking these two fae monarchs was like chasing rogues through the streets of Salia.


    It pushed him even before the horse¡¯s untimely demise.


    It would be worse this time.


    He tensed as another thought darkened his door. The return to Summer on foot would be a gruelling ordeal. He wasn¡¯t even sure how to complete the journey without Taylor and the Queen of Summer unravelling the tale they¡¯d woven together. Roland reached the snow-swept mountain¡¯s base and began his ascent. The fading cries of the Summer Dragon drove him up the slopes.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Both the sounds and sights of Taylor¡¯s battle died away as he approached the fight between Sulia and Larat. Gloomy fingers cast by Summer architecture ¡ª buried beneath the weight of Winter¡¯s frost ¡ª prickled the hairs at the back of his neck. The Tyrant lounged on his gilded throne set atop his dais. It had been ensconced within a tiled palatial chamber with a broken roof. Two dozen gargoyles circled like vultures and threw taunts at the battling fae above. Roland squinted into the tumultuous sky.


    Sheets of fire and ice clashed above, heralding the chaos to come.


    ¡°Call all you like, Sulia,¡± Kairos twirled a sceptre and taunted. ¡°Even the heavens mock you.¡±


    Roland weighed the Tyrant¡¯s words, probing their edges for the story being spun. While he couldn¡¯t see the shape of it, he was certain it was a tale he didn¡¯t like the end of. What malign purpose did Kairos steer the fae toward?


    Aged stone groaned as Sulia raised a hand and pulled a flaming twister from the heavens. The conflagration screamed toward Larat, only to wither against the edge of his sword.


    ¡°Silence, traitorous abomination,¡± Sulia snarled as a snowflake landed on her brow. ¡°I¡¯ll burn you from existence soon as this fight is done.¡±


    She swept toward the Prince of Nightfall as her blazing spear slicing empty air as he twisted into shadow. Three serpent-quick strikes scored at her side, but the wounds sealed almost instantly.


    Roland''s fingers brushed over his emerald-studded bracelet. The piece was designed to gather harm dealt to its wearer. It wouldn¡¯t shield him from devastation on this scale, but the thought steadied his nerves.


    ¡°You wound me,¡± Kairos gasped. ¡°Come now, Princess. Fly higher. Don¡¯t sully yourself among us mere mortals. Your hubris is so great that surely it belongs among the stars.¡±


    Could Roland determine what Kairos Theodosian sought to gain from this fight? Perhaps he aimed to imprison Larat? The best method to ensure that would be to end him in some way or another. No, that would see Summer''s Sun into Sulia''s care and Taylor''s bargain with him unfulfilled. Killing Sulia would force a harsher reckoning. One that Roland wasn''t confident he could thread. He couldn''t allow this drama to unfold unchecked. What net could he cast to reel in the catch?


    More¡¯s the pity that Roland couldn¡¯t risk confiscating it without a narrative strong enough to justify his claim.


    Even a moment of unearned contact would reduce him to little more than cinders.


    A howling blizzard engulfed Sulia as the sky rumbled. The fae duke who had trailed them past Aine¡¯s gates joined the fray. He hurled emerald flames at Larat, only to be assaulted by the Tyrant¡¯s stone-winged cohort.


    ¡°Your shadows cannot dim my sun, Larat!¡± Sulia dispersed the blizzard with a roar. ¡°I am the noon that banishes Winter¡¯s icy grip. I soar above them, unbound by their reach.¡±


    Roland gripped tight around the hilt of an old Mavii Dagger at his side. Should he use it here to drain power from either of the fae? Better not risk it. Their might far exceeded what the tool had been made for.


    ¡°Even the brightest sun burns itself to ash, Sulia,¡± Larat drawled. ¡°It¡¯s the way of things.¡±


    The Prince¡¯s blade flickered, twisting in and out of existence as it slashed toward her. Sulia dodged and the edge of the weapon parted nothing but smoke.


    ¡°I¡¯ll burn ever brighter, clawing wretch,¡± she snarled, ¡°and leave your shadows to wither in my wake.¡±


    Larat swooped backwards as a fan of frost bubbled like wax against the tip of Sulia¡¯s spear.


    ¡°The sun pales before such ambition,¡± the Prince taunted. ¡°Do you feel the dark closing in? If only you could rise higher. After all, even the brightest flames can burn out.¡±


    There were two keys to this contest. Roland had to establish Larat¡¯s ownership was illegitimate and that his freedom lay in playing along with the story he wove. That would be the safest path to securing Summer¡¯s Sun.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t have to end in blood and frost, Larat,¡± Roland declared. ¡°Return Summer¡¯s Sun, and we can rewrite the story.¡±


    Unease crept over Roland as the Tyrant¡¯s crimson eye locked on him. He missed the following exchange above as he matched the monster¡¯s gaze. Roland shuddered as Kairos grinned.


    ¡°Winter''s gifts are paid in frost and shadows,¡± the one-eyed Prince replied, ¡°each kindness has its price.¡±


    Fiery spears rained down on the Prince of Nightfall as Sulia lunged. Larat spun and cut with his blade, scattering the flames.


    ¡°Give back what you¡¯ve stolen,¡± Roland cajoled. ¡°Let¡¯s close this book before the story unravels and open another.¡±


    Gargoyles returned to their roost on the Tyrant¡¯s dais. Roland tried to ignore the one tearing up a free cities version of the Book of All Things, or the other that theatrically mimed slitting his throat.


    Three strides across icy platforms landed Larat before the fae duke.


    ¡°Why should I hand you the quill?¡± Larat challenged. ¡°My future isn¡¯t yours to write.¡±


    ¡°Every unwritten page is a battlefield where potential wages war against destiny,¡± the Rogue Sorcerer explained.


    Another lick of the Prince¡¯s blade saw the duke clutching at a slit throat.


    ¡°I¡¯m not abandoning one set of chains only to claim another.¡± icy wolves leaped from Larat¡¯s shadow as he laughed derisively.


    Sulia drowned the wolves in a sea of flames. Roland scrambled to the side as flailing vines burst forth from the ground. It appeared that Sulia had no regard for anyone else¡¯s safety in her bid to end the Prince of Nightfall.


    ¡°Ah, the advisor,¡± Kairos twirled his sceptre and cackled as he emphasized the word. ¡°You¡¯re more interesting than the Page.¡±


    An orb of quartz materialized in his right palm as half a dozen gargoyles descended. His eyes narrowed. A bolt of lightning surged from the sphere, split, and struck. The creatures'' mocking caws turned to snarls as stone splintered under the force.


    Roland intensified the barrage.


    ¡°I have little interest in dancing on your strings, Kairos,¡± Roland said as he ducked another stony blow.


    Roland frowned and sprinted behind a neighbouring wall as another gargoyle lunged. Claws scraped against blackened masonry as he fished out his dragon oak rod. He stumbled backwards as a stone wing clanged against another brick, before blasting the beast with a tightly controlled beam.


    The beasts hissed, but returned to the Tyrant¡¯s side.


    Roland peaked out from behind his temporary barricade as vines withered under frost.


    ¡°At least you have some fire of your own,¡± the enthroned youth acknowledged with a grudging nod.


    The charlatan''s frown deepened as he measured each word. Allowing Kairos to guide the story was perilous. Taylor believed the child had an Aspect like hers. He¡¯d catch a glimpse of Roland¡¯s utmost desires. What other choice remained? Should he ignore the Tyrant? The best method to disarm a trap was often to sidestep it entirely.


    The Rogue Sorcerer risked a glance away from the Tyrant and stiffened at what he saw.


    ¡°My flames will never falter!¡± Sulia shrieked. ¡°Even your darkness can¡¯t swallow them whole.¡±


    Sulia¡¯s eyes ignited with an unrelenting fire as she called and an inferno answered. Roland shaded his eyes as he hid behind the broken wall once more.


    The world buckled beneath her implacable will.


    ¡°Until they''re not,¡± Larat challenged as he threw himself into the clouds. ¡°Even the day dims, as all things must.¡±


    The prince¡¯s words held little effect as golden banks in the sky pushed back the encroaching fog.


    Even the air scorched Larat with only a touch.


    ¡°This ends now,¡± Sulia declared. ¡°I¡¯ll not allow you to desecrate my relic any longer.¡±


    Her wings flared as she lunged for the Midnight Casket, which was still gripped tightly under Larat¡¯s arm. A mirthless smile curled on the Prince of Nightfall¡¯s lips as he swept to one side and hurled his blade. Sulia¡¯s eyes widened as the weapon pierced her heart and grasped feebly at the hilt.


    The Princess was too slow.


    ¡°Alas,¡± he said as he dashed forward and seized her by the throat. ¡°The sun has scorched its wings, and now the night rises in its place.¡±


    A river of gold streamed from Sulia as Larat forced ice and shadow down her throat. Blight took the vines trailing her figure. Her once resplendent wings blacked under the ravenous claws of Winter, then crumbled as her eyes glazed over in the moments that followed.


    A tense stillness smothered the battlefield.


    The silence was shattered a heartbeat later by the Tyrant''s mocking applause.


    ¡°It is¡­ an auspicious day,¡± the Prince of Nightfall sighed as he dropped from the sky and gave the Tyrant an assessing glance. ¡°The smallest measure of one debt, paid. Another: soon to be collected upon.¡±


    ¡°My friend,¡± Kairos purred as he looked at Roland. ¡°What a position you¡¯ve found yourself in.¡±


    ¡°There is much to be said about my position,¡± Roland prevaricated.


    Half his attention went towards assessing the Tyrant¡¯s words.


    The rest tracked Larat¡¯s every move.


    ¡°So much power, yet none of it your own,¡± the Tyrant said as he laid a palm over his chest. ¡°Your talents seem¡­ wasted.¡±


    Roland chewed over the words. Why was the Tyrant casting him as a traitorous advisor? He had reservations about Taylor¡¯s choices but hadn¡¯t turned his back on her. The path remained clear either way. Roland had to deny the claim to undermine his enemy¡¯s scheme.


    ¡°I prefer to be under someone who won¡¯t toss me into a tiger pit for entertainment,¡± Roland retorted.


    ¡°Really?¡± Kairos drawled, ¡°don¡¯t you appreciate how they¡¯d brighten your day? No matter,¡± the madman dismissed with a wave. ¡°I¡¯d say you¡¯re already halfway there.¡±


    ¡°Seeking to be more than what I was is not a betrayal of Taylor¡¯s trust,¡± Roland replied.


    ¡°Uh, uh, uh,¡± the Tyrant tutted. ¡°You left Taylor¡¯s little princess in that trap and her time¡¯s running out,¡± he cackled. ¡°Now. For my third Wish:¡ª¡±


    Roland¡¯s eyes widened as he grasped the shape of Kairos¡¯s true intent. Taylor had believed the boy had an Aspect like Dream, but her perspective was too narrow. Roland clenched the sphere in his palm. It blazed, and arcs of lightning surged toward the Tyrant.


    His efforts proved futile.


    ¡°Existing agreements prevent me from striking you down,¡± the Prince said as his blade intercepted the bolt, ¡°but you¡¯d be surprised what you can live through.¡±


    Roland tried to bypass the creature and blast the villain again. His stomach examined the depths of the Everdark as the one-eyed fae positioned himself between the Rogue Sorcerer and the child. All but the final dregs of his hope were pilfered by the thief on the throne.


    ¡°-may Larat be freed from all but his oaths to me until the seasons change,¡± Kairos exulted, ¡°only to then be imprisoned by his nature once again.¡±


    A violent storm clouded the face of the Prince of Nightfall.


    Roland clenched his fist around the orb. Enough was enough. The Tyrant might have complicated their quest in Arcadia by killing the Prince of Deep Drought and disrupting their pact with Larat, but even his interference knew limits. The Rogue Sorcerer seized upon the opening created by the boy''s treachery.


    ¡°Larat,¡± Roland¡¯s voice cut through the gloom, ¡°tell me your plans.¡±


    The weight of a glacier bore down on him as the Prince of Nightfall¡¯s furious gaze fixed pinned him to the palace floor. The Rogue Sorcerer remained unmoved. Each betrayal enacted incurred a hidden debt to the victim. A debt that he¡¯d call in.


    ¡°My plans,¡± a wintry voice mused. ¡°I¡¯ve stolen Summer¡¯s Sun and cast its princess from the sky,¡± he raised a tenebrous black casket out before him. ¡°Winter¡¯s victory is now inevitable. Your defeat is assured.¡±


    Roland¡¯s resolve firmed as the story lurched.


    ¡°What did you say about keeping what I claim?¡± he grinned as he asked rhetorically, ¡°I think I¡¯ll see this back to its rightful owner.¡±


    He reached out to Confiscate the box.


    A swarm of gargoyles descended upon him.


    And the Tyrant laughed.

 Elysium 7.08

    ¡°Huzzah! The beast is dead! Now, if you¡¯ll kindly turn around, its twin seems quite cross about the whole affair.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Irritant I, the Oddly Successful


    <hr>


    I swooped to the side as the Winter Dragon¡¯s claws scraped my wings. Piloting a dragon unsurprisingly fell well outside my normal arsenal. I relied upon both Innovate and the narrative to keep me aloft.


    On any other day, soaring like this would¡¯ve instilled me with a sense of wonder.


    Instead, I felt numb.


    The black fog shrouded my thoughts much as when I thought of those slain by Endbringers or the many victims of the Nine. I¡¯d estimated that over a third of the Tyrant¡¯s army had perished during his strategic repositioning. I¡¯d known this empty lassitude would smother me the moment Kairos had appeared. That eventually the bodies would be stacked so high that it was no longer possible to understand the loss.


    There was no avoiding tragedy when fighting a villain who savoured other''s suffering.


    Golden clouds shimmered above the dragon¡¯s frostbitten frame, their shifting hues reflected faintly in the creature¡¯s eerie eyes. I lunged as it tilted its wings. It had unleashed a fan of icicles the last three times I¡¯d observed that tell. Dozens of the Tyrant¡¯s men died screaming alongside bands of the Summer fae each time it did so. The Winter dragon twisted in an attempt to evade. A crack reverberated as I struck the beast and smothered it in a cloud of radiance.


    The most aggravating part of this conflict?


    The sheer pointlessness of it all.


    It was far worse than any regular fight. Our strikes were just empty gestures. Both of us hunted for a weakness when our weapons were as effective as trying to stem the tide with more water. There were stakes despite that. I saw it in the creature¡¯s hollow blue orbs. A cold malice lurked there, watching behind each counter.


    Malevolent eyes narrowed.


    The skeletal frame dropped and reformed a dozen heartbeats later.


    Its tail scythed toward me as a spear of black ice formed at the tip. I twisted and unfurled my wings, deflecting the blow with a luminescent wave. A tremor reverberated through the air as they collided and shattered the ice into fragments. Silver tears stung as the screams below drove nails into my eyes.


    Another reminder of my imperfection


    Another reminder of the people caught in the aftermath of our struggle.


    The trouble with destroying the Winter Dragon was that I¡¯d transformed the battle into a clash of concepts. Summer, Winter, and me¡ªthe future. The narrative favoured me, but it wasn¡¯t that simple. I still had to carry through that victory myself.


    I¡¯d needed to turn Winter against Summer to break its dragon.


    And destroying the Winter monstrosity would take something more.


    I chased the beast as it plunged toward the erratic streaks of grey that raked the sky. The errant bolts had reduced in both quantity and scale now, with more fading with each passing moment. One of my claws closed around the dragon¡¯s wings and knocked it off course. It crashed into once verdant soil now blighted by frost.


    Hadn¡¯t this been green less than a quarter-hour ago?


    Suppose that makes this a crash course in dragoneering.


    I blocked the snap of frozen jaws, but three icy claws gouged holes across my wings. Tendrils of frost spread towards a loose band of Summer fae who¡¯d wandered nearby. Cries rang out as their defences weakened under the encroaching ice. I severed the attack with a vicious cut and spun, then clamped onto its neck. Gloom bled from bones and ate at me. We both pulled back and circled each other on an iced over plain, waiting for the next blow.


    The miracle I¡¯d been preparing while I stalled completed.


    I wove radiant threads through the undead dragon into a grand tapestry.


    What if the wild hunt didn¡¯t hunt down lost peasants in the waning woods and instead guided them to safety? What if the princess didn¡¯t attend the ball only to be knifed in the back? What if betrayal became chivalry and vice became virtue?


    Again and again and again.


    One question after the other.


    The manifestation thrummed.


    My aura surged as a burst of shadows draped itself around my masterpiece and tore into it with jagged teeth. Light streamed, faster and faster. A pair of joined hands, a nest with eggs, the laughter of children not yet born.


    Mockery resounded as the darkness gave its reply.


    Broken vows, an empty house, a stillborn babe.


    An involuntary snarl tore from my golden snout as the miracle shattered.


    Shadows wreathed the skeletal frame as the dragon took to the sky. I followed behind it. Arcs of radiance extended from my claws. The beast lashed its tail towards me as it snapped into motion. Daggers of ice deflected my attack and tore through my neck, scattering shards of Light like broken glass. A heartbeat later and I reformed, still hurtling after the monster.


    I couldn¡¯t stop.


    I didn¡¯t think it could, either.


    How could I destroy this beast? My biggest obstacle to miracle based combat was how most of the faithful resorted to pointy beam diplomacy. The sufficiency of that approach against many enemies did nothing for me in a war of concepts. While the angels did resort to more esoteric combat, the tactics they used did nothing in the type of war that I waged.


    That left this entire fight in an uncharted realm.


    One where I pioneered all the tools.


    Perhaps a prismatic prison would work? One that would splinter the creature¡¯s attacks and send them spinning back. Fragment the present into metaphoric pieces. No, that idea wouldn¡¯t work. The present was trapped in stasis already, and I needed something removed from that if I wanted the dragon gone. How about¡­


    Yes, that could work.


    The next several exchanges passed as a blur.


    My mind wandered while I wove my next miracle.


    Muted thoughts of Kairos lingered, like the waning rays before sunset.


    I was certain that the pointlessness of this clash of titans was the entire point of it. Kairos required tools to undercut my story. He didn¡¯t actually care about the dragons at all, he only cared about tying me down. So he forced me into a major slog with no real stakes to cut away the weight of what I worked towards. I¡¯m sure somebody found it hilarious. I didn¡¯t. The near certainty of my victory was irrelevant. The Tyrant had insured that I¡¯d not have the oomph required to challenge the King of Winter or the Queen of Summer in the aftermath.


    Not that my chances had been good to begin with.


    And I couldn¡¯t decline the clash with the dragons, either.


    Villains like the Tyrant were petty attention whores. The kids causing problems when the teachers stepped out of the classroom. He was the abused child who¡¯d decided to perpetuate the cycle rather than attempting to end it. He¡¯d find a way to sabotage my plans using these dragons if I¡¯d decided to ignore them. Or he¡¯d hurt somebody else with them. His repugnant nature led to a situation whereby I had to engage with his game on some level ¡ª even while I tried to cut past all his bullshit ¡ª in order to prevent more lives from being lost.


    I thought about striking him down anyway, consequences be damned. Yvette hadn¡¯t indicated yet that the slaves would survive if I acted. The thought still lingered. Was I the teacher who let the abusive student run wild? Or the Taylor who let her bullies keep taking swings because fighting back felt like giving in?¡­ No. Not this time. I was doing my best to fix this. I just had higher standards than I used to.


    It unsettled me that the urge to lash out at him burned as hot as it did.


    Much about the Tyrant worried me.


    His inversion of Aladdin had come at a time when I¡¯d been too preoccupied with ending the Summer Dragon to intervene. It had been a twist I¡¯d not anticipated. Well, it hadn¡¯t been completely unexpected. I¡¯d guessed the broader strokes of his scheme without knowing the finer details. His betrayal of Larat had been unsurprising. I suspected Kairos would die the moment his Gods found him boring, and ploys like this were his method of survival.


    I¡¯d need to take care in how I countered that story.


    The hells would freeze over before I approved of a relationship between him and Yvette.


    Seeing him use Wish had rung church bells deep in my soul loud enough to crack the pews. It was enough to confirm that he was certainly my rival. I¡¯d bet it had limitations, even if I didn¡¯t know what they were. They were likely tied to frequency or some abstract narrative logic. Perhaps the circumstances had to be amusing? It would fit my understanding of the boy shouting for attention because nobody had heard him before.


    I doubted that Kairos knew enough about the story of Aladdin to invert it. That suggested he¡¯d wished for knowledge of Earth¡¯s stories. It made sense. The Gods Below couldn¡¯t possibly allow their favourite toddler to be punished for throwing a tantrum. No, consequences were for other people. Such a high level of potential story awareness elevated him as a threat far beyond almost every other hero and villain I knew. I¡¯d tentatively place him third to the Bard and the Dead King until I knew more, and suspected that Kairos¡¯s position and the Dead King¡¯s might be interchangeable.


    Enough had been recorded on the Hidden Horror throughout history for me to guess at his goals. He wanted to live forever more than anything else. There was no other reason to turn himself into a living corpse. That kind of motivation rewarded patience. I¡¯d bet he was cautious, brilliant at manipulating stories, but hated upsetting the status quo. That made the Dead King predictable, in the sense that I¡¯d always know the general shape of how horribly we were about to be fucked if he knocked at the door.


    Kairos liked chaos.


    Kairos wasn¡¯t predictable.


    I needed to end the Tyrant while he was in Arcadia, and not just because developing a proper threat profile on him for the House of Light would be an exercise in frustration. The battlefield of Arcadia favoured me more than anywhere else, and I didn¡¯t want new heroes travelling to Helike and adding weight to his story down the road.


    My mind returned to the conflict as I finished preparing my next gambit.


    Tassels of radiance streamed from my maw and coalesced into a resplendent sphere. One that swallowed the Winter Dragon whole. The surface gleamed ¡ª smooth as polished glass ¡ª but its reflection told a story of what could be and not a story of what was. It didn¡¯t matter where the beast looked, the visions remained the same. A world thawing, ice melting into streams, grass budding, trees erupting with blooms.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The surface rippled with countless refracting visions.


    Much like a stone tossed onto the surface of a pond.


    Then the inevitable walls of the future encroached.


    A blizzard of ice and darkness swept across my silver prison¡¯s interior and whispered of the inevitable end. A world freezing, the frozen peaks of the Whitecaps, soil buried beneath ice, the last leaf falling from a tree. The reflection dimmed as gloom occluded the interior. A skeletal claw lashed out.


    Once.


    Twice.


    Thrice.


    My frills flared as the walls shattered.


    At this rate, I¡¯m going to need to start giving miracles fancy names like wizards with spells.


    The echo of frustration tolled in the recesses of my mind as the dragon escaped my claws.


    What else could I try? I could attempt to trap it in illusions, but I doubted that the illusion of change would be enough to overcome the idea of a world trapped in ice. How about leaning even further into something I¡¯d already done? I didn¡¯t have the time to invent novel miracles. They¡¯d all have to be variations on the same themes and ideas. The seasons would switch by the time I¡¯d invented even a single entirely original miracle, and handing Kairos victory on a silver platter wasn¡¯t an outcome I¡¯d accept at all.


    The air vibrated with frost and Light as the beast twisted and dove towards me. Its jaws parted. I veered as an icy abyss poured forth. Its breath screamed of a timeless eternity that heralded the end of all things. I answered with a chaotic, scintillating spray, even as the frigid death trailed whispers along my scales. The necromantic construct swerved as the darkness dispersed, but it was too slow.


    The Winter Dragon¡¯s icy wings caught the glow and shattered like glass.


    I examined the battlefield while threading Light as the beast began to reform.


    Ice had crept halfway up the paradox trap. It inched forward like frostbite on flesh. In theory, there was little meaning to halfway through infinity. I concluded something else as I read the portent inscribed in cold. The King of Winter approached. I needed to conclude my struggle before the war reached its end.


    A storm cloud brewed on the face of the Prince of Nightfall. For now, he lingered beside a broken throne within the palace ruins, but I didn¡¯t expect that to last.


    Roland conducted a mad dash down the hills with the cursed casket clutched tight against his chest. Both the Tyrant and his gargoyles were relentless in their pursuit of my friend. Roland ducked and darted behind rocks or into craters for shelter, often trading barrages of lightning or flames against equivalent gestures with the child on the throne. I tried intercepting the menaces seven times with both lances and barriers. Each attempt was foiled by either my undead assailant, the Tyrant, or the Winter fae.


    My aura surged as my attention waned and the intricate net I¡¯d woven unravelled between my jaws.


    Trust that Roland can handle those pests, Taylor.


    The dragon turned and exhaled a storm of icy shards that hummed with the breadth of the present. The shards tore through the air. They didn¡¯t just strike the battlefield, but also close to the fragile camp where Yvette worked her ritual. I felt my wings falter as one jagged icicle narrowly missed one of the braziers.


    Another storm of icy shards sheared after me only a heartbeat later. I capitalized on the beast¡¯s mental slowness and wove between them. My form blurred into nebulous clouds as icicles pierced where I had been only moments before. The dragon roared again in false frustration and flapped its wings in a pale mimicry of the life it once had.


    A line of gold split the air as my attack burned through the dragon¡¯s wings and gouged a path through its chest. Ice sealed over the injuries as it recoiled. My talons sparked against its frozen scales as I struck again. The inevitability of the future trailed lines down the bones of the immutable now.


    Darkness bled from the bones as fragments of ice spilled into the air.


    Ice and shadows snapped back into position.


    I exhaled a searing breath in frustration as I restarted the fabrication of my greater miracle.


    The nymphs had departed the Tyrant¡¯s camp for an assault on Winter after ransacking the last remnants of it. The golden-bannered Immortals harassed deadwood soldiers from the safety of their walls. Winter had surrounded itself in walls of shadows and frost, although they did little to stem the assault when geometry held less meaning than morality in Praes.


    Impatience dug at my heels as I waited for Yvette to signal that I could strike against the Tyrant without causing mass casualties. The ritual had transformed from a three-dimensional grid into an intricate sphere composed of many interlocking segments. A twenty-fourth brazier had also been located and now flickered around the inner circle. Each one of the burning hearts on the pyres had been disposed and had been replaced with a drop of my blood.


    The vial had been emptied.


    Worry about my daughter gnawed at me.


    There was far too much High Arcana in the working she was creating.


    Scrying didn¡¯t require High Arcana at all.


    Yvette had disappeared into a reality of her own. She¡¯d been consumed with an intensity that gouged deep furrows of guilt into my heart. She kept muttering or reaching into her pocket dimension and pulling out additional reagents. Every so often she¡¯d stop and stroke my horse on its mane.


    Should I have avoided asking her to do this? I knew that she wouldn¡¯t refuse. That she¡¯d see this as an opportunity to ¡°earn¡± my affection for her. The affection she already possessed and didn¡¯t need to earn at all.


    I hated what I¡¯d done.


    I knew that she¡¯d come to resent me if I¡¯d avoided asking her instead.


    How did I determine the correct choice? Should I respect her autonomy or refuse to allow a child to walk into the hungry maw of danger? On Earth, I¡¯d have said the latter without question. But here? In Creation? Yvette almost fell within their standards for adulthood. Most people I asked would declare that I was wrong.


    I wanted for Creation to be more like Earth.


    I couldn¡¯t insist on them following my principles without turning myself into a tyrant.


    Errant thoughts were dusted away as I returned my attention to the greater conflict.


    The strategic situation had become precarious, even with the potential return of Summer¡¯s Sun. I¡¯d long passed out of the realm of established planning and into the realm of thinking on my wings. The situation also wouldn¡¯t improve any time soon. I wasn¡¯t certain who the Tyrant had betrayed. Sulia or Summer, Winter or Larat?


    I was putting my money on Summer and Larat for now, but it hardly mattered with Kairos. He wouldn¡¯t abandon this fight until he¡¯d betrayed everyone else. I suspected there were two major betrayals left. The King of Winter and the hidden player. The only way he could betray Roland, Yvette, and me was by subverting our expectations of him.


    I¡¯d need to turn the betrayed into allies against the malignant youth. I¡¯d win If I reached the end of the tale I¡¯d woven. His goal was cutting it short. Kairos might¡¯ve taken fighting the fae monarchs off the table, but negotiation wasn¡¯t. The King of Winter¡¯s initial question all but confirmed he¡¯d struck a deal with the Tyrant. One that would complicate coming to an agreement. I was still prepared to bet that the King was eager to betray the Tyrant if Kairos tried stabbing him in the back.


    The Tyrant¡¯s death was the real heretic in the cathedral. He was the kind of villain who¡¯d use his own death to spite the world. I had to undermine that. I had to manipulate him into a less catastrophic ending. But how? Kairos didn¡¯t fear death. I also couldn¡¯t exploit his hatred of being ignored. I¡¯d need to find something else.


    My third miracle neared completion as Roland stumbled into the Tyrant¡¯s former camp.


    My golden corona warped into a halo of possibility. Threads streamed from my claws and entangled Winter¡¯s construct like vines choking a dying tree. This time, I struck with something different. This time, I struck with the idea of Creation from nothing. A match struck, stars lighting up the night sky, the void being populated by the will of the Gods.


    The beast tried to contest my working.


    It struggled and lashed and raged and fought.


    It threw possibility after possibility at the radiance which suffused it.


    Futile.


    Each attempt at escape was futile.


    One piece at a time, I slammed the puzzle that was its tomb into place.


    Triumph swelled within my chest.


    I risked a glance towards my friends.


    Frost encroached upon the Helikean camp. Roland faltered as the stone monstrosities closed in. My claws twitched. I couldn¡¯t intervene without risking my working. My friend passed behind the shelter of a barricade. A dim sputter of sparks sent a gargoyle reeling backwards. Splinters erupted. A winged monster screeched as it smashed through the wood.


    The dragon thrashed harder, and I wove faster to compensate. The wintry glow in its eyes dimmed as its struggles weakened. My web tightened. One vision after another hammered it into submission.


    Almost done.


    A stone menace lashed out and missed my friend, but struck a tent line in the process.


    A layer of frost spread beneath Roland¡¯s foot.


    The Rogue Sorcerer tripped as he tangled himself against loose fabric.


    The Midnight Casket hurtled through the air.


    Roland lunged after it with a cry.


    A gargoyled did the same.


    Both were too slow.


    Pandora galloped in like vengeance incarnate. Her hooves struck against the base of the box and sent the casket spinning. Summer¡¯s sun exploded free as its lid flew open. It bathed Arcadia in blinding radiance and streaked through the air, before vanishing into the now crackling silver heart of Yvette¡¯s ritual. The centre of the spell flickered, then spiralled in dizzying, vivid circles as it strained against her intent.


    Perfect. Another setback.


    Yvette stilled for a heartbeat before exploding into a frenzy of movement. Desperation lit up her emerald eyes as she dashed from one side of the ritual to the other. I couldn¡¯t follow her attempt to contain the calamity. I doubted anyone else could, either.


    Silence almost fell over the battlefield.


    The Tyrant wouldn¡¯t allow an opportunity like this to pass without giving applause.


    I¡¯m not allowing you to kill my hope, Kairos. You can topple as many dominoes as you like, there will always be one more beyond your reach. That, or I''ll pick them up and set them at the end.


    A lead ball of bitterness sank into the swamp of my exhaustion. It¡­ didn¡¯t do much to the water level. I was so far beyond justifiably upset that deepening the mire didn¡¯t budge my resolve. Now I needed to end this conflict without knowing the principle motives of either side. So what? Fine. I¡¯d already known this fight would be ugly. The King of Winter had my friends¡¯ souls, and his was the only deal left intact.


    I had absolutely no idea what to do with Larat¡¯s keys any more. Well, it wasn¡¯t even given that I could earn them now. Kairos had shattered that story, but I¡¯d find a way to obtain and use them. I¡¯d keep the promises that I made. It didn¡¯t matter that Kairos had wished our oaths away. I¡¯d see the story through, even if I needed to rewrite history to do it.


    The last threads of my miracle tied together between my claws.


    A crack split the air as the bone dragon imploded in a cascade of Light and frost.


    I dropped from the sky as fast as I could and landed as close as I dared to my friends. The Tyrant¡¯s ¡®withdrew¡¯ from the broken camp and returned to his now severely diminished force in the distance. The sight of his fleeing back offered little satisfaction for all the harm he¡¯d done. Yvette had still not provided me with the signal to attack, and I expected the next betrayal to arrive at any moment.


    A suffocating presence arrived at the other end of the twisted tunnel.


    ¡°Night falls across two realms,¡± the voice of the King of Winter whispered from the frost strewn across open plains, ¡°and Winter devours until the ache of emptiness feels almost like satisfaction.¡±


    I froze as the sky darkened.


    Vast sheets of lightning rippled from one side of the sky to the other.


    Hail began to fall.


    ¡°And so it came to pass: what once was and what is have crumbled beneath the weight of what must be,¡± the ground groaned as he spoke. ¡°This distortion of distance stretched a single breath into endlessness,¡± his voice dipped into the low thrumming of thunder. ¡°And yet, she severed the thread, leaving the timeless undone beneath her claws.¡±


    The infinite became finite again as the horizon unfurled like a scroll. North, South, East, and West returned to their places on the plane. Concepts that had lost all meaning found their identity once more. Soldiers that had stood side by side were now separated by vast distances.


    That which was forever denied had become obtainable in truth.


    I¡­ didn¡¯t have enough care left to properly appreciate the sheer artistry that was the King of Winter twisting my victory against the dragon into a weapon to undo my story.


    Frost licked Summer¡¯s walls.


    The ground shuddered beneath the rhythmic march of Winter¡¯s remaining infantry.


    Step.


    Thud.


    Step.


    Thud.


    Each newly claimed inch blighted the last dregs of life in the ground below.


    The battle for Aine began.

 Elysium 7.09

    ¡°When the Tower fell, what remained was not silence, but the echo of a broken nightmare.¡±


    ¡ª Eleanor Fairfax, founder of the Fairfax dynasty


    <hr>


    Figures bearing golden banners scrambled behind the walls, releasing streams of gold into the atmosphere as their wings beat against the air of defeat.


    Flames roared in the sky to the north and south.


    They crackled like a hundred quills scratching in a church scriptorium.


    Walls of ice groaned and rose, cutting off the deadwood soldiers.


    The first wave struck. Steam and smoke spat into the air.


    Nymphs charged through breaks in the ice.


    Exhaustion clawed at me, but I shoved it aside. The King of Winter was treachery incarnate. He wasn¡¯t being manipulated¡ªthis was part of his role, or a scheme. Likely both. The Queen had enacted my version of Zeno¡¯s Paradox. The King had retaliated. Their intervention balanced out. However, the tide of the battle favoured the King. I couldn¡¯t let either of them win. Not if I wanted to uphold my oaths.


    The acrid tang of burning wood snapped me out of my thoughts.


    My eyes flitted over a figure in the distance. A figure who vanished before I could learn more.


    Wants to fight worthy opponents.


    ¡°How to fix, how to fix!¡± Yvette¡¯s voice trembled as she voiced her distress. ¡°It broke everything! I was almost done. Perfect. Not my fault. Not this time!¡±


    A lance of guilt stabbed through my heart. Yvette¡¯s hands fluttered like birds. Silver and gold sigils surged from her fingertips as she did her best to contain the budding catastrophe. My mouth ran dry as the ground lurched around her. Each stumble of hers felt like a fracture in my own resolve.


    Light flared as I focused and healed Roland while he staggered through the wreckage. Splintered palisades framed his path like broken ribs. Should I transform back? No. Not yet. Not until I had a plan.


    The clouds churned in the sky. Silver lightning stabbed upward, thrumming in a continuous pulse of static.


    Ice projectiles slammed into Aine¡¯s walls, then shattered, their jagged edges crumbling to mist.


    The ground quaked under Winter¡¯s inexorable advance.


    Walls of ice groaned and rose again, protecting the deadwood soldiers.


    Steam hissed as the heat of the assault met the unyielding cold.


    ¡°The Tyrant played us for fools,¡± Roland growled, reaching my left flank.


    I spared him a glance before returning my attention to the Tyrant¡¯s line.


    Should I risk striking now?


    ¡°I¡¯ll name my next horse ¡®Triumphant the Second,¡¯¡± I muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s see if it can conquer Calernia. Pandora¡¯s the only one that seems to be winning around here.¡±


    As frustrating as I found it, Yvette hadn¡¯t given the signal to attack Kairos yet. Fair enough. She had enough on her plate. The Tyrant had probably tied the slaves¡¯ safety to the ritual. It¡¯d fit his kind of awful.


    ¡°Heavens forfend,¡± Roland exhaled, ¡°I¡¯d rather you don¡¯t. I wonder what part we shall all play in this performance?¡±


    A third bolt of nothingness connected to the sky. The ominous swirling sphere of silver and gold at the heart of the spell didn¡¯t bode well, either. Should I risk attacking Helike¡¯s ruler anyhow? Summer¡¯s sun might¡¯ve disrupted any traps in the working. But if I was wrong¡­


    The thought stuck in my throat as the battlefield roared.


    The wooden walls groaned behind us, buckling under the impact of ice.


    Unicorn-mounted Winter Fae darted and spun above Aine. Their silver lances clashed with the golden blades of Summer¡¯s riders. The Tyrant¡¯s army had marched closer. His crossbowmen fired into the chaos. Bolts arced, shredding banners and piercing golden flesh. Immortals screamed as their flags tore. Life seemed to leech from them as the fabric frayed.


    The army of Winter encroached.


    No frozen fortifications rose this time.


    No streaks of flames cut loose in retaliation.


    ¡°Thinking,¡± I muttered, picking up from where we¡¯d left off.


    Could I force the King to move and tilt the scales towards Summer? Summer had no heavy hitters left except the Queen. Winter had Larat. At least, it did in theory.


    ¡°Maybe there¡¯s still a chance for someone to rise from the ashes,¡± Roland mused.


    I glanced at the ruined palace. Larat hadn¡¯t moved from near the broken throne. I doubted he would any time soon. Even if he did¡­ He¡¯d bested Sulia, but I¡¯d fought two dragons. I¡¯d bet I¡¯d win in a direct fight.


    ¡°Do you think it fits?¡± I asked.


    Roland had done his part. Yvette¡¯s story unfolded, just not for combat. The Tyrant¡¯s army couldn¡¯t touch me. Well, nobody could touch me. I could shut the entire battlefield down except for the King and Queen.


    ¡°Consider the story,¡± Roland pressed. ¡°The hour is late, the sun is gone, and hope is all but lost.¡±


    What if Aine fell? Could I risk it? No. I didn¡¯t know the stakes. One fact remained true: I needed the balance of power close enough to force an agreement. Attacking Winter¡¯s army would do nothing. The King didn¡¯t care about his soldiers.


    ¡°We¡¯ll save it for an emergency,¡± I drawled.


    I ignored the flat stare Roland gave me and thought further. Had I missed anything critical? The cloaked figure hadn¡¯t struck. They¡¯d had plenty of chances at everyone except the rulers of Summer and Winter. That narrowed the list. My initial bet of the Ranger or the Warlock remained unchanged.


    ¡°We need to move, Taylor,¡± Roland urged. ¡°Indecision kills faster than any spell.¡±


    I glanced his way. Gaunt faced, he gripped the hilt of his dagger so tight that his knuckles had gone white. He was also correct. Regardless, our mystery figure wouldn¡¯t make their move until the monarchs clashed. They¡¯d wait for an opening and strike with their chosen ally¡¯s momentum behind them. That gave them the edge they needed. Perhaps I should¡­


    ¡°I¡¯ve got an idea,¡± I blurted. ¡°I¡¯ll force the King¡¯s hand.¡±


    My lack of weight didn¡¯t matter against ordinary soldiers. They were hopelessly outclassed. As brutal as it was: their contribution only counted when all major participants were removed from the conflict.


    ¡°Is this wise, Taylor?¡± Roland inquired.


    The Tyrant would betray whoever our mystery figure was, then skew the confrontation towards one side or the other. I¡¯d have to tilt it towards even again.


    ¡°Wise? No,¡± I admitted. ¡°Necessary? Yes¡±


    ¡°Is it worth the cost?¡± his voice grated as he asked.


    ¡°I think it is,¡± I confirmed. ¡°I¡¯ll trust you to anchor me if I¡¯m wrong.¡±


    The Rogue Sorcerer examined me for a few moments before giving a reluctant nod.


    ¡°Fate cuts its teeth on choices like these,¡± he sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it doesn¡¯t devour us whole.¡±


    ¡°Keep watch,¡± I ordered. ¡°My mind will be elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°I will protect Yvette,¡± he agreed. ¡°She¡¯s our best hope should all else fail.¡±


    I transformed as our conversation ended. The shimmering dragon collapsed inward, leaving me human again. My second ghost faded. Light streamed from me as I wove one of the simplest miracles.


    A barrier.


    Not just any barrier.


    This one was vast, expanding in a gleaming dome to encase all of Aine.


    The shield glimmered under the impact of countless projectiles. Bolts, sorceries, and hail struck in an unending symphony. Each impact rang against my protection like a church bell. The barrier held, but the vibrations reverberated through me. Thousands of tiny teeth gnawing at the edges of my mind. A buzzing storm of angry insects.


    The first crack came fast. A tiny fissure, barely perceptible, rippled across the resplendent barrier. My mind stretched thin as ethereal fingers sealed it shut.


    Then another appeared.


    And another.


    Each fracture came faster than the last, webbing through the dome like frost over glass. My focus strained as my hands wove invisible threads to mend the tears.


    Futile.


    All futile.


    Three more erupted for every one I repaired.


    It was like juggling knives blindfolded, each blade aiming for my resolve. My breaths came sharp and shallow as I struggled to prevent the collapse. The pressure of the dome drove slivers of ice deeper into my mind with every passing second.


    I wouldn¡¯t drop it. Couldn¡¯t drop it. I only needed to force the King of Winter to take the field.


    Even if I felt like I might shatter before the shield did.


    Pressure bloomed at the base of my skull.


    A sharp and insistent sensation.


    I staggered.


    T.t.too much.


    The throb strained against the limits of what I could endure. At least, so long as I pretended to be human. A person would¡¯ve crumbled already. But I wasn¡¯t a person, was I? I set aside my trepidation even as my nails carved lines into my palms.


    An angel¡¯s whisper slowed me for a moment. A reminder of my own decision to maintain the illusion of humanity. I acknowledged their concern, then chose to press onward. Hesitating would cost us too much. Mental fatigue? A luxury I couldn¡¯t afford. I folded it up and threw it away.


    Later, Taylor. You can cry over your tattered humanity when this is over. For now, be something else.


    The agony dulled as I dismissed it, fading into a faint echo beneath the roar of duty. Nothing existed but me, the warmth of the angels, and my faith in the Gods Above. Everything else dulled.


    I buried my thoughts in the shield.


    No, I did more than maintain the shield.


    I became the shield.


    A strike rippled in the north. And so I smoothed it away. Another fracture to the south. The dome reformed. The world outside my aegis blurred into chaos: a feeble blizzard hurled by a Winter duke, ice lances crashing against my barrier, and the thunder of unicorn riders¡¯ hooves.


    The shield quaked under the relentless assault. A jagged tear ripped through the side as gold and silver lightning arced from near where my body lay face first in the soil. The hole vanished under my touch an instant later.


    I can actually do this.


    None of the conflict mattered. None of it could affect me.


    A host of Winter Fae charged my body where it lay, crumpled, outside the barrier. Their leader ¡ª a count, judging by his presence ¡ª bore down upon my body with the all the weight of an empty prophecy. The air crackled with their icy malevolence.


    Pointless. All of it. I wasn¡¯t there. Not truly. My existence was the shield.


    And yet, I needed to protect my friends.


    The fingers of my body twitched in the dirt. Light rushed outwards from me in a searing arc. An arc as brilliant as it was merciless. The count and his vanguard disintegrated in an instant, their forms sublimating into steam. The scent of scorched air and vaporized snow lingered. They had little protection in conflict when they were so hopelessly outmatched.


    Distantly, I noted as Roland darted towards where I lay. He heaved my body onto his shoulder with a grunt and staggered towards the ritual. It shimmered ahead, the spiralling interior wavering like an unsteady flame. Gold and silver threads twisted in patterns which refused to settle. Roland pushed towards it, then set me down as close as he dared.


    I let him.


    My fight was above Aine.


    Larat descended the shattered palace like a spectre. He strolled towards the battlefield with a palm upon the pommel of his blade. His shadow flickered strangely against the icy ground, bending and twisting as though shaped by an unseen flame. I spared him only a moment¡¯s attention before ignoring him. I sensed no outward hostility towards us. Gods willing, he¡¯d fight by my side against the Tyrant.


    Another strike from a Winter ballista.


    Another repair.


    A second flying band of fae skirted the edge of the ritual. I honed my attention to a fine edge as Roland exchanged flames with frost, only for my efforts to prove unnecessary. The assailants were swallowed by a violent, golden discharge.


    Nothing existed beyond the shield.


    The sublimity of the experience suffused every part of me. Was this what it felt like to be an angel? To shed everything except purpose. To be able to reach out and change the world with but a touch. The barrier gleamed as I toiled. Layer upon layer of Light reinforced until even the dukes failed to find purchase.


    And still, the army of Winter advanced.


    They didn¡¯t care. They didn¡¯t need to.


    Summer¡¯s forces were trapped inside my aegis. They couldn¡¯t fight while I held the dome. Their fiery banners, their spears, their rage against Winter. All meaningless, so long as I maintained the shield.


    I felt his arrival before I saw it.


    Frost clawed at the air.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The clouds folded in on themselves like curtains drawn against the sun.


    The ground cracked under the weight of ice.


    Arcadia held its breath as a man wearing a grey wood crown that wept blood-red sap strolled past the Tyrant¡¯s army onto the western front. His every step seemed to freeze the air, the weight of his arrival pressing down upon the battlefield.


    ¡°Time shatters, but stillness endures,¡± the King of Winter said. ¡°Eternity is the edge no shield can blunt.¡±


    Lightning crackled against my shield as the King of Winter raised his left palm to the sky, while holding his right behind his back.


    Once.


    Twice.


    Thrice.


    ¡°Even broken threads can be rewoven,¡± roared the thunder, ¡°if chaos serves as the needle.¡±


    The dome shattered.


    Red, green, gold.


    Colours.


    A wash of colours.


    The sky?


    I shook my head.


    The ground, the ritual, the palisade I leaned against.


    It all rushed back to me as my perspective shifted.


    All at once; I felt as if I¡¯d been dipped in cold water.


    I examined the battlefield for alterations. Yvette flitted around the ritual site. A wild creature haunted the back of her eyes, and she twitched every so often while she worked. A fresh barrage of fiery projectiles crested the walls and slammed against newly risen fortifications of frost. The King of Winter waved a languid hand and all the flames snuffed out.


    ¡°Yvette¡¯s finished disentangling the slaves from Kairos¡¯s ritual,¡± Roland informed me.


    He leaned beside me with a dagger clutched tight between his fingers. He looked like he¡¯d aged a decade in an hour.


    I must¡¯ve missed the signal.


    ¡°Then we go after the Tyrant,¡± I surmised.


    A familiar dais hid in the coat tails of the King of Winter. The Tyrant. Of course. He wouldn¡¯t miss this for the world. I stared at the gaunt faces hauling the gaudy platform. Why were the slaves carrying it? An ugly emotion swelled within me.


    ¡°How many times can you break yourself, Taylor, before there¡¯s nothing left to rebuild?¡± Roland whispered.


    A lance of Light departed from my palm. It crossed a quarter distance to the horizon, only to vanish at a single glance from Winter¡¯s monarch. I swallowed a scowl.


    Message received. For now.


    ¡°As many as I need to,¡± I sighed. ¡°I learn to burn a little brighter every time I fall.¡±


    What story is this?


    Time. The King of Winter had started with an assertion about time. He could be continuing with his prior extension of my story, or he could be establishing a larger plot of his own.


    ¡°It helps when you don¡¯t turn to ash in the attempt,¡± Roland complained under his breath.


    Perhaps he played the role of someone like Chronos from Greek mythology? Attempting to manipulate the King of Winter with stories remained a terminally stupid idea, but at least I could attempt to glimpse the shape of his larger scheme.


    ¡°And yet here we stand opposed once more,¡± the wind whispered from atop the walls of Aine.


    The earth trembled under the weight of unnatural fury. A tangle of living vines surged from beneath the walls, passing around Helike¡¯s camp and snapping through the frozen deadwood soldiers like brittle reeds. Frosted limbs and splinters flew as the forces of Winter were hurled back towards the horizon in a cascade of raw, primal power.


    A lone figure ¡ª and some villainous attaches ¡ª stood undisturbed on an island of tranquillity.


    A symphony of primal violence lapped at the frozen shores.


    ¡°Waging both the same and a different war,¡± Winter¡¯s monarch sang a mournful tune.


    Vines shrivelled, their vibrant green fading to ashen black as frost clawed up their stems. The air turned brittle. Ghostly howls of forgotten souls rose from the frozen expanse. The broken furrows in the earth stilled, ice surging across them in jagged veins, sealing the land beneath a sheet of gleaming death. Aine¡¯s walls buckled under the weight of ice. The sky dimmed overhead as clouds swirled with unnatural fury.


    ¡°Another battle,¡± the Queen of Summer sighed, ¡°they¡¯re all the same. And so the pattern reverts again.¡±


    The broad-shouldered girl stood between the smoking gates of Aine, golden curls dancing around her tanned face. She lifted a yew spear streaked with white that resonated with me towards the clouds. The sky split wide open. My eyes traced the point of the spear. Fire rolled overhead. A thick and slow treacle soup that gradually pushed back the darkness.


    Lines of now distant Winter fae perished under the raining inferno. The horizon trembled as elemental forces tore at the land, reshaping valleys into jagged peaks and melting frozen rivers with but a touch. The sky itself seemed to groan under the strain of another repetition of the cyclic clash arguably older than Creation itself.


    ¡°Even time stills,¡± the dark skinned ruler whispered through the hissing of melting frost.


    A deafening silence thundered across Arcadia as a metaphoric tornado of shadows swirled forwards from the monarch¡¯s fingertips. It churned like a conceptual whirlpool of nothingness. A whirlpool devouring everything it touched. Colour bled from the world in threads¡ªred, green, blue, gold. All of it drained into a lifeless grey.


    Momentum vanished. The false twister devoured it, leaving a surreal emptiness in its place. Anything it touched froze, caught in an unnatural stasis. A small voice at the back of my mind screamed of danger. It was as if time itself had been suspended.


    Causality had once again been severed at the hands of Winter¡¯s king.


    ¡°It¡¯s usually the villains who try to play god, princess,¡± Kairos mocked and blew a kiss at Yvette from behind his father¡¯s coattails. ¡°Why cage a brilliant mind when the world¡¯s begging to be remade?¡±


    I tensed and shifted my attention towards Yvette.


    ¡°Tower? No, no!¡± Yvette talked to herself. ¡°A tower? Wobbly. Wobbly towers are disasters waiting to happen. A bridge, though? Bridges don¡¯t wobble¡­ mostly. Except when they do. Safer. Yes, seems safer. Not a big change. Just tip the tower. Stupid horse. Can¡¯t fail ma. I need to -¡±


    ¡­ She ignored his casual taunting as she monologued to herself below her breath.


    I stomped down on the temptation to interrupt the working. To remind her of the original goal. Who knew what disaster would unfold if her concentration wavered? All of us relied upon her now. I¡¯d trusted her with this task. Revoking trust at the eleventh hour sounded like an easy path to failure.


    My focus switched back towards the Tyrant.


    Yvette might ignore him, but I wouldn¡¯t.


    How should I head off his relationship gambit? I¡¯m sure he¡¯d find converting Yvette to villainy hilarious. Unlike everyone with a functioning moral compass. Perhaps swap it with a story of an unwilling relationship? Something like Persephone¡¯s Abduction? Then from there into the story of either a rescue or no relationship at all.


    ¡°Hey Kairos,¡± I shouted, ¡°Instead of abducting her, why don¡¯t you come over here and chat with the family?¡±


    Come on, Yvette. Finish your ritual soon.


    ¡°Taylor, really,¡± he scoffed. ¡°What¡¯s the point of brilliance if it¡¯s shackled by the book? Let her soar with me instead, priestess!¡±


    Spotting the Tyrant proved challenging, considering he¡¯d positioned his dais ¡ª safely in the lee of the temporal storm ¡ª behind the King of Winter. Kairos lounged on his throne with one leg draped over the armrest. He tapped his sceptre against his chin. A slow grin spread across his face.


    I¡¯d bet he loves the sound of his own voice.


    ¡°I know how that ends,¡± I retorted, ¡°you offer her the world, then take everything else.¡±


    ¡°You wound me, Taylor,¡± he laid a palm over his chest. ¡°Betrayal¡¯s your art, not mine. I¡¯m all about freedom from the right kinds of tyrants.¡±


    Of all the¡­ no, don¡¯t entertain his nonsense.


    ¡°Try to be more convincing next time,¡± I countered, my voice drier than the Wasteland.


    ¡°I only sting when I¡¯m betrayed first,¡± Kairos purred. ¡°Don¡¯t act surprised when the tides come in, and you¡¯re still at sea.¡±


    It would be nice if anywhere else had acoustics like these.


    ¡°What did I do to deserve this?¡± I muttered.


    ¡°What surprises me is that you think any of us want to drown alongside you, Roland interjected.


    ¡°So dramatic,¡± Kairos sighed. ¡°How about a nice lakeside retreat in Helike?¡±


    I¡¯d bet Helike doesn¡¯t have any lakeside retreats worth visiting.


    ¡°I¡¯ve no desire to swim in treacherous waters,¡± Roland replied, ¡°and I¡¯m not so easily bribed.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Roland, my dear, you wound me,¡± Kairos chided. ¡°I offer you a new home, and you whine about getting wet.¡±


    All of us stilled as the weight of Summer pressed upon Arcadia. The Queen of Summer stepped beyond the walls and prepared to challenge Winter¡¯s dominion. The flash of a blade stole the next words from her tongue. She turned towards a cloaked figure strolling onto the field and blinked.


    ¡°I have no quarrel with you, Lady of the Lake,¡± the Queen of Summer said, brow creased slightly.


    Alarm prickled at my spine as the nothingness spread. I glanced towards Yvette. The ritual hadn¡¯t been completed. I didn¡¯t know what would happen if the King of Winter¡¯s attack struck it. I didn¡¯t want to, either.


    ¡°I looked for you, before,¡± the Calamity said.


    ¡°Could you do something about the weather,¡± I interjected and pointed towards the growing disaster.


    A heaviness slammed into me then. A crushing presence coiled around my ribs like a vice. The suffocating awareness of being a small creature caught in the gaze of something vast and hungry. The sensation clawed at my spine, daring me to flinch. I didn¡¯t. I¡¯d faced larger monsters. She was nothing in comparison. The feeling withdrew.


    ¡°It¡¯s your mess, kid,¡± she dismissed me with a shrug.


    A stab of fury lanced through me. She didn¡¯t care about all the careful plans she broke, so long as she got her uninterrupted fight. It would likely take all of us ¡ª including the Tyrant ¡ª to stop the King of Winter¡¯s attack. She¡¯d tied us all up for a chance to fight Summer¡¯s ruler, and Kairos wouldn¡¯t cooperate.


    Have faith, Taylor. You can do this. You expected this.


    ¡°A fight between us is meaningless,¡± the Queen said.


    A streak of black lightning illuminated Roland¡¯s blade as he swung it upward, cutting through an intangible tendril of shadow. The absence of light crawled along the edge of his weapon as he called upon his Grace. A stretch of greyness surrendered to colour once more. The shift rippled outward, vibrant hues bleeding into the void.


    It¡¯s not over yet, Taylor.


    ¡°So you had me running through a maze instead,¡± Ranger snorted. ¡°Cute. No maze here now, though. Not while your seat is contested.¡±


    The blade in Roland¡¯s hands began to glow.


    Dim.


    Brighter.


    Searing.


    An incandescent star in the shape of a weapon.


    He yelped, then tossed the blade aside. I caught him as his knees buckled. Light flowed from me to him an instant later.


    ¡°This strife is unnecessary,¡± the Queen insisted.


    Yvette¡¯s hand darted out and the blade levitated towards her. Her eyes widened as she gripped the Mavii steel. Grey not-light radiated from its edge. The Ranger cast a glance back at us. Her lips raised a fraction, into something between satisfaction and a smirk.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve ever been properly introduced,¡± the figure said with a laugh, ¡°I am the Ranger. I hunt those worth hunting for. Rejoice, for you qualify.¡±


    The honey-skinned half-elf unsheathed her second sword in one fluid motion. She darted towards the destroyed gates of Aine.


    ¡°Desist,¡± the Queen of Summer said. ¡°Even should you survive this conflict, there are more pressing concerns.¡±


    The Queen spun past a blade with the eerie, weightless grace of a leaf caught in a breeze. Her spear lashed out, its golden tip slicing a faint red line along the Ranger¡¯s arm. A focused intensity stole over the Ranger¡¯s face as she stepped back enough to gather her momentum for another strike.


    ¡°Right,¡± Kairos crowed, ¡°put on a show for the rest of us. Even the strongest pillars-¡±


    The Tyrant heckled the Ranger as she pulled an arrow from her quiver and hurled it at him. A gargoyle caught it between stony jaws.


    I glanced at Yvette.


    She¡¯ll be fine. I trust her.


    I swallowed the lump in my throat. She shook like the light of a candle. Was she laughing or crying?


    ¡°Taylor,¡± Roland¡¯s voice broke my reverie. ¡°You need to repulse this.¡±


    The Ranger surged forward without hesitation. Her twin blades shimmered in the flickering light. A cascade of flames erupted ahead of her, raw and vicious, but she met it head-on. Her swords slashed through the Queen¡¯s conflagration as if it were nothing but mist. The remnants of the effect dissipated in a glittering spray.


    ¡°I know,¡± I replied.


    I¡¯ll hold this at bay for as long as you need to win this for us.


    My attention drifted away from the battle as my third phantom vanished. I raised another barrier around our group. This time, I acted with extreme care. The barrier enveloped all three of us while being wide enough to avoid disrupting Yvette¡¯s ritual.


    The Prince of Nightfall skirted the edge of the void and approached the two combatants.


    The greyness pressed closer. It tested the edges of my aegis; much like the mobs tested palace walls during the fall of Aisne. I braced myself for another barrage against my psyche. I expected something akin to when I shielded Aine. A brutal fight where I had to outpace the enemy¡¯s ability to tear holes into my defence.


    The actual clash took me by complete surprise.


    The creeping catastrophe wasn¡¯t a force I could meet with any miracles I knew. It wasn¡¯t a thing. It was an absence. Not quite the same as the absence demon, but similar. It licked at the edges of my barrier. Winter¡¯s icy grip split and into disparate threads like a hydra the more I contested it. I felt it contest my control over the aegis. A clash of wills between me and Winter¡¯s monarch. I struggled ¡ª I don¡¯t know for how long ¡ª then faltered. My protections didn¡¯t shatter. They didn¡¯t fall.


    They flickered in and out of existence.


    It was the moment between falling asleep and waking up.


    The time between times.


    I imagined if I took a knife and kept dividing something in half forever, what was left at the end would have more significance to it than the creeping numbness that I fought. And it kept extending its domain. Its presence was an anchor on my chest, a scream just on the edge of hearing. I pulled my shield inwards as it wavered, flickering under the malign influence.


    I gritted my teeth and pushed more of myself into it.


    Innovate strained to find me an answer.


    But I knew that I delayed the inevitable.


    ¡°There is some irony in a hunter being snared in their own trap,¡± Larat murmured. ¡°I might sabotage many deals, but this one? Even with my liberty stolen, I''ll savour upholding it.¡±


    I spared a glance towards the fight. Ice snapped and spread in jagged veins beyond my barrier across the battlefield. The one-eyed fae swept forward, a blur of pale steel and shadows. His blade gleamed as it arced towards the Ranger¡¯s eye. Graceful as a swan, she pivoted, her twin swords meeting his single blade with a ringing clash. Sparks flared, soon swallowed by a scorching salvo of fire. The Ranger ducked, narrowly avoiding the flames licking the air above her head.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t know you were so eager to donate a second¡ª¡± The Ranger¡¯s quip cut short as her words were stolen by a sudden stumble.


    ¡°Rend!¡± Kairos flourished his ivory sceptre with a laugh from his position on the golden throne.


    The Ranger staggered, her leg buckling as a crimson slash carved across it. She snarled, turning the fall into a roll. She raised her blade to carve through another wall of encroaching flame. The fire parted, but her balance faltered. Larat¡¯s next swing came too fast, too precise. She tried to counter, but his weapon drove past her guard, slicing deep into her eye.


    A spear wreathed in flame arced through the chaos. It struck the Ranger with a sickening impact, piercing clean through her heart. Blood sprayed, painting the air in fleeting crimson arcs before vanishing into the all consuming greyness.


    ¡°A fire stolen is a fire burned twice as bright,¡± Larat mused as he pulled an eye from her falling corpse and pushed it into his own head.


    The temporal anomaly surged.


    My barrier fragmented.


    Winter passed my defence a heartbeat later.


    The Tyrant opened his mouth from behind the King of Winter.


    The Queen of Summer raised her spear and sent plumes of fire his way. Kairos laughed from his seat, even as barriers of frost stayed his end.


    And then, cutting through the suffocating dread, came the enthusiastic voice I¡¯d been waiting for.


    ¡°I was wrong! I was wrong!¡± Yvette''s laughter rang out, manic and triumphant. ¡°Doesn''t matter what it is. Only how you look at it. Like, like mirrors, maybe? Or like the first word of a sentence¡­ how it''s only the first word because the rest of the sentence follows. Everything hinges on context. Even whether a sentence is true or false. Isn''t that funny? It''s perfect.¡±


    No, it¡¯s not funny!


    My breath froze in my chest.


    ¡°There is more to strength than fire or steel,¡± the Queen of Summer agreed as flames leaped again towards Winter¡¯s working.


    Yvette waved a hand as if swatting away a gnat, and the air popped. Something felt different about her. As if she¡¯d stepped into new shoes, or become comfortable with old ones. Sigils ¡ª dozens, perhaps hundreds ¡ª snapped into existence around the steel platform. They formed intricate patterns that seared themselves into the surrounding grey.


    ¡°But that¡¯s okay,¡± Yvette said as she reached into her pocket dimension and tossed an hourglass into the roiling mess. ¡°Pandora showed me accidents are inevitable,¡± she glared at the horse. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if I¡¯m involved. What matters is that we keep trying. That all of us keep trying.¡±


    The nothingness struck her wall of sorcery like a tidal wave meeting stone. It rippled and twisted upwards like a shoal of fish under assault by sharks. Then it folded inwards, drawn into the vortex forming at the ritual¡¯s centre.


    ¡°Ergh,¡± Yvette scowled while her fingers danced. ¡°Enough with this already. Bypassing Light with Winter that way is clever, but nothing I can¡¯t put right.¡±


    She brushed aside a stray golden lock with movements so delicate I almost wanted it strangle her. It was as though the weight of the world pressing in didn¡¯t concern her in the slightest. Her emerald eyes burned with a jubilation so fierce it bordered on insanity. An excitement I hadn¡¯t seen since soon after we first met. She practically vibrated with energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet like a child on the brink of a great discovery.


    Then she turned and levelled an absolutely insolent grin at the King of Winter.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a God,¡± she declared. ¡°Not even the palest imitation of one.¡±


    The King of Winter returned her grin with a foxlike grin of his own.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen what they can do,¡± Yvette said. ¡°I¡¯ve also seen what you can do. And there¡¯s nothing you can do that together we can¡¯t Replicate.¡±


    The dagger blazed in Yvette¡¯s hands. She didn¡¯t hesitate. She hurled it¡ªpoint-first¡ªinto the heart of the ritual. Time seemed to slow. I could feel the grains of a metaphoric hourglass fall upwards as the blade approached.


    Gold and silver spiralled skywards, twisting like a serpent as it climbed toward the heavens. A brilliant helix cast its light across the battlefield much like the rising sun, turning the grey horizon into a veritable riot of colours.


    The


    dagger


    struck.


    Arcadia


    broke.

 Elysium 7.0d

    ¡°Anyone who tells you justice is blind has never seen someone smote by the executioner.¡±


    ¡ª King Jehan the Wise


    <hr>


    Esme sat rigid, her back straight against the chair beside the balcony railing of Les Horizons Lugubres. She fought the urge to adjust the silvered badge ¡ª its scales askew over her heart ¡ª as the autumn wind tugged at her blue and white dress. The garden¡¯s frost-kissed statues glittered below, but her mind was far from those distractions.


    Her mind sailed through darker waters.


    ¡°I appreciate your willingness to meet once again,¡± she spoke in measured tones.


    Time once again slipped through her fingers like water in a leaky cask. It had ever since she¡¯d been appointed to Taylor¡¯s station. One demand after another fought for her attention. Squabbles among the chosen and the endless churn of internal politics were the most common culprits. Each tide dragged her further from her own course.


    ¡°It is of little consequence,¡± Louis de Satrons said as he smiled indulgently from the opposite end of the table.


    Each week that passed with vengeance unquenched sapped further at her choosing. She hardly felt her Name these days. What would become of her once it slipped away? Would Taylor cast her aside like a broken net? Esme feared she would. Esme hoped she would not.


    ¡°It is important to foster both new and old relationships,¡± she replied.


    The surface of the ornate bottle on the table between them was etched with swirling vines and serpents coiled in a mockery of elegance. It gleamed under the fading sun like a jewel trying too hard to be noticed. Esme¡¯s lips tightened as the servant filled her glass.


    ¡°First,¡± Louis suggested as his skeletal fingers swirled the contents of his own crystal glass. ¡°A drink.¡±


    Esme lifted her glass. Her jaw clenched as she swirled the russet liquid in slow circles. She narrowed her eyes. It was a foreign vintage that she didn¡¯t recognize. Her thoughts drifted to the bottle¡¯s origins. Perhaps it had languished for decades in a forgotten cellar or crossed with traders from distant shores? She suppressed the urge to grimace as she brought it to her lips. Mud. The taste clung to her tongue, earthy and foul, as if it had been bottled from the bottom of a swamp.


    ¡°Is the wine to your liking?¡± Louis de Sartrons inquired with a raised eyebrow.


    So, it was to be another round of their game. Another carefully baited test, ending with a pointed lesson dressed as wisdom. Esme knew these waters well. She¡¯d swum their currents before and would do so again, no matter how perilous they were. Justice demanded she not flinch from her purpose.


    ¡°An excellent vintage,¡± she lied with a forced smile.


    ¡°It is the finest wine imported from the Green Stretch,¡± the corner of the spy master¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°A rare indulgence.¡±


    ¡°I can almost taste the fruits of the earth with every sip,¡± she answered diplomatically.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not tarnish this conversation with easily discerned falsehoods,¡± the spy master chided.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she conceded, setting the wineglass down. ¡°It tastes like the sea floor. And not even the better parts of it.¡±


    Esme¡¯s eyebrows arched as her companion lifted the bottle to pour himself another glass. Was he truly willing to endure such torment?


    ¡°An apt description,¡± Louis mused. ¡°We acquired several bottles when we discovered that the Dread Empress imports this by the barrel to the tower.¡±


    It was a fitting measure for the Circle of Thorns. There was reason in testing every patch in the hull of the ship that was Praes, seeking the smallest leaks to exploit. But Esme had learned that this man never stopped at one lesson. His every move was a quiet instruction, cloaked in subtlety and patience.


    ¡°I doubt the farmers of Praes store their spirits in such decorated bottles,¡± Esme said.


    ¡°They use more modest glassware,¡± the ageing man acknowledged.


    Only her lessons in propriety kept her from snorting outright. Esme knew better than most what lurked beneath every smile and frown. She needed no lecture from this old spy on when to spare a second thought on the appearance of those she spoke to. Or perhaps Louis offered commentary on the nature of origins? A reminder that the truth of a person always lingered ¡ª hidden beneath the surface ¡ª no matter how far one strayed from the shore. If one had the resolve to dive below the waters, they¡¯d find it waiting.


    Let¡¯s see what he can discern from the scraps I pretend to have gleaned.


    Esme¡¯s gaze shifted to the bottle. ¡°It reminds me of the octopi caught off the shores of Mercantis,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve watched the fishermen haul them in many times. Their appearance is always a deception. They are smooth stones one moment, waving kelp the next. Many layers of camouflage, all to obscure the reality beneath.¡±


    She hid a smirk, watching the flicker of disappointment in the spy master¡¯s eyes. Genuine, feigned, or imagined? Her gut told her it was real, but she¡¯d been fooled many times before. Esme knew better these days than to trust her instincts without a second thought.


    ¡°A fair lesson,¡± the spy master replied. ¡°But consider that Malicia drinks this wine because it reminds her of home. Her nostalgia blinds her to its mediocrity. Might you, too, be clinging to sentiment, masking it as something more noble?¡±


    Louis de Sartrons judged her wrong. Taylor had bestowed trust upon Esme. Trust that was not so easily earned and came with rules and limitations. It rankled, stung like the sting of salt against a rash. How was she to find vengeance with all those measures preventing her from ripping out corruption by the roots? But¡­ Taylor had also achieved what no other hero had managed in living memory. She¡¯d brought change to the hallowed alls of the Highest Assembly. There were also slower ways to drown than by earning her ire.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here for sentiment,¡± Esme countered.


    ¡°Then let us not deceive ourselves,¡± Louis said with a razor-thin smile. ¡°Your inquisition wields many tools ¡ª zeal, power, intimidation ¡ª but sentimentality may yet be its undoing.¡±


    Her inquisitors often sailed headlong into still waters. These failures had pushed her to seek the counsel of the Circle of Thorns. Taylor¡¯s insights on legal procedures had limits. Documents and records were meaningless when the crooks were clever enough to keep their heads below deck. Interrogations fared no better when faced with foes who¡¯d rather ingest poison than speak to her in person when caught.


    ¡°The House of Light has many principles,¡± she prevaricated, ¡°I¡¯m adhering to them.¡±


    It was not her only complication, either. No matter how hard she clung to Taylor¡¯s rules, others seemed far less dedicated to them. Troubles had arisen after Taylor¡¯s three and a half months of extended absence ¡ª so far ¡ª in Arcadia. Complaints had surfaced about the inquisition. The accusations ranged from overzealousness, to those who indulged in torture, to those who used their power to settle old grudges. How was she to fulfil her duty and keep the inquisitors in line when they were so eager to stain the very purpose they were meant to serve?


    ¡°How proceeds your first major audit of House of Light holdings?¡± Louis pressed.


    Esme glanced away.


    ¡°Not all ships survive their first voyage,¡± she answered softly.


    ¡°You would do well to learn the lessons of those who came before,¡± the spy master advised. ¡°Truth and the blade go hand in hand. Both can also cut if you aren¡¯t careful where you press the edge.¡±


    The spy master didn¡¯t understand ¡ª couldn¡¯t understand ¡ª what it meant to befriend someone who cared for everyone she tried to help. Someone whose very presence made Esme feel unclean. It was a relentless reminder to do better. A reminder to not walk the same path as her mother. To rise to the expectations that had been placed upon her, no matter how impossible they seemed.


    ¡°The First Prince has vastly different expectations of you,¡± she retorted.


    ¡°And what if the Aspirant fails to return from her journey?¡± Louis mused. ¡°How long can you keep the House of Light from collapsing while adhering to her principles?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll weather the storm for as long as necessary,¡± Esme replied.


    They both quietened as silverware laden with food was set before them. The meal passed without a word. The silence gave way to a heavier discussion when it concluded. Louis de Sartrons urged a harder hand. A hand Esme couldn¡¯t afford to take.


    Esme rose and left the Les Horizons Lugubres as the sun dipped below the horizon. Her thoughts weighed at her like an anchor. The entire meal had been nothing but a waste. The net she¡¯d cast had come up empty when searching for solutions to her problems.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Esme looked over her shoulders thrice before stepping into her carriage.


    Nobody trailed behind her.


    The journey to her office was brief and uneventful. She brushed past the sneers and upturned noses as she stepped into the Starlit Cloister. Her status as one of the damned won her no favours here. She¡¯d never expected it would. Let them snub her. A full season had passed since Taylor¡¯s voyage, and still, not one of them dared to act on their opinions.


    There was a hidden truth in that.


    She unpinned her badge as she arrived at her office and set it aside on the pile of documents waiting for her attention. She leaned back in her chair and sighed.


    Any hope of rest was shattered as her gaze fell over the paperwork.


    Demands never ceased.


    Entanglements clung like barnacles to her purpose.


    Justice forever evaded her grasp.


    The first document she picked up was tossed aside with a scowl. A report about a Callowen damned, allegedly openly offering allegiance to one of Praes¡¯ High Seats. Unusual, but not worth her time. Whoever had sent it had likely delivered it to the wrong office.


    Her bloodied fingertips skimmed the latest reports on the chaos consuming Helike. Their tyrant had been absent for months. Not strictly her concern, but Esme suspected a connection between his disappearance and Taylor¡¯s vanishing. That suspicion had driven her to insist on regular updates.


    Reports of Malicia¡¯s suspected active involvement in foreign affairs were marked for further investigation.


    Esme¡¯s gaze settled on one of the proposals she¡¯d drafted for Taylor¡¯s return. This one leaned on what Esme considered the priestess¡¯s most positive trait: her growing zeal. Esme had seen it from the start, even if she hadn¡¯t voiced her observations to the others. Taylor¡¯s faith was a fire, slow-burning but steadily blossoming with each passing day. That zeal had begun to chip away at the fear that stayed her hand from striking at those who deserved justice.


    The Saint of Swords had wielded her faith as a blade, but the Aspirant? She was extreme in a quieter, gentler way. Both kinds of faith could scour the rot from the Principate, though Taylor¡¯s weapons would be kinder to those caught beneath the edge.


    Esme intended to help guide that edge.


    The proposal would allow those sentenced to death for their crimes to petition to be touched by compassion in place of execution. It needed the approval of the Highest Assembly, although that was something Esme believed she could secure even in Taylor¡¯s absence. No prince would turn their back on free, docile labour, and the accused could always accept their death if they preferred it. Yet, Esme held back.


    Taylor needed to present it herself. The act of making that choice ¡ª of standing before the Assembly to argue for it ¡ª would be the wind that buoyed Taylor ever closer to her destination. Deep down, the Aspirant knew what needed to be done. Esme was only giving her a nudge. She pushed aside the persistent doubt that warned her against championing that cause.


    Surely it was for the best?


    Esme set the document aside and reached for another, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes scanned the page. More reports on the refugee crisis. The matter had been a barnacle on her hull for some time. Those driven by the escalating conflict with Yan Tei to flee Levant were flooding onto lands held by the House of Light. The House could only sustain so many before the strain on logistical supply chains in the southern principalities became impossible to ignore.


    Something niggled at the back of her mind.


    Was it paranoia, or justified concern?


    Esme¡¯s frown deepened as she studied the reports. Priests had noted a disproportionate number of southern refugees arriving at the doors of House of Light holdings. Something about it didn¡¯t sit right. She flipped through one document, then another, her brow knitting tighter with each page. The more she pieced it together, the sharper her hunch grew. Most church lands weren¡¯t near the borders, and thus there was little reason for refugees to seek them out. And with the rise in banditry across Orense, such routes should¡¯ve been all but abandoned. The pattern didn¡¯t fit, and that was enough to set her teeth on edge.


    All of a sudden, the pieces all fit together.


    Esme¡¯s fury spiked as the dregs of Connect assembled the remaining details that she¡¯d been too blind to see. A scheme ran by the First Prince to undermine the authority of the House of Light. A ploy to strain their resources during a time when they couldn¡¯t afford to fight among themselves at all.


    A sharp knock at the door washed away the edges of her growing rage.


    ¡°You may enter,¡± she said as she forced her shoulders to relax.


    Esme brushed a stray lock of onyx hair aside and honed her attention to a point. That matter demanded a cool head fore she made a dangerous mistake. Her gaze lifted, meeting the cold sapphire eyes of one of Taylor¡¯s advisors. Sister Jade stepped into the room.


    ¡°There is a matter that demands your attention,¡± the sister declared.


    The woman¡¯s lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line as she took in Esme¡¯s presence. No recognition of her status. No show of respect for her position. Not that Esme had expected otherwise from any members of the clergy.


    Justice, not vengeance. Recall the difference.


    ¡°Is it more news of the refugee crisis?¡± Esme bit back a sigh.


    ¡°A different complication,¡± Jade denied.


    ¡°I want a discreet investigation launched,¡± Esme said, ¡°into the possibility of the First Prince stirring trouble on House of Light holdings.¡±


    ¡°It will be done,¡± Jade acknowledged. ¡°Our eyes and ears in Aequitan have passed along news of a newly minted villain.¡±


    Taylor might have weathered the endless demands on her attention with grace. Esme did not. She had no patience for new heroes strutting into the House of Light only to make unreasonable demands. It never took long to shatter their delusions. Half an hour of verbal lashing beneath her tongue was often enough to send them stumbling back out the door with storm clouds over their heads. News of specific heroes and villains rarely warranted her notice unless something set them apart.


    ¡°Is the principality about to drown at sea?¡± Esme inquired, her focus returning to her work.


    She penned a refusal for yet another unjustified demand for increased budgeting from the priesthood in Lange while she waited for a response.


    ¡°We¡¯ve caught word of an inventor,¡± the sister spat the word out vehemently.


    Esme¡¯s hackles rose at the mention. Inventors were the sharks swimming among a school of bass, a perpetual thorn in the side of both the House of Light and Klaus Papenheim¡¯s Wardens of Procer. There was no telling if their contraptions violated the Gnomes¡¯ edicts until a Red Letter arrived. Devices powered by sorcery or miracles were historically safe. Anything else, however, was a risk too great to even consider.


    ¡°What kind of inventor?¡± she asked, looking up from her work.


    ¡°A mechanist of some kind,¡± the sister explained, ¡°the person who reported them mentioned many cogs and finicky pieces.¡±


    An invention that would likely breach the edicts, then. No need to ask if he¡¯d sought guidance from the House of Light. Those gifted with technical brilliance seldom ever did. Furthermore, those who showed that level of foresight never became troubles at her door in the first place.


    ¡°Have the Wardens been informed?¡± Esme checked.


    ¡°They have not,¡± Jade hesitated for a moment, ¡°the chosen have been kept in the dark as well.¡±


    Esme swallowed the kind of curse that only sailors would dare utter. This reeked like fish rotting in a market stall. She¡¯d wager this was an ill-considered political manoeuvre. One capable of dragging the House of Light into treacherous waters.


    ¡°Is there a particular reason for this?¡± she inquired.


    ¡°There is evidence that some among the nobility are aware of this inventor and sheltering him from discovery,¡± Jade explained.


    Esme¡¯s bloodied fingers tightened around her quill. The nobility. It always came back to the nobility. Twenty years of civil war hadn¡¯t been enough for them. Now they had to flirt with disaster once more. For what?


    No. Focus. Think.


    ¡°And I suppose you¡¯ve got more nets you¡¯re itching to cast,¡± she muttered darkly.


    ¡°I do not,¡± Jade declared hotly. ¡°However, there are others,¡± she spat the word, ¡°who insist that I bring this to you. That I suggest the House of Light simply¡­ lose record of the alert.¡±


    Esme¡¯s blood simmered. Of course, there were priests who¡¯d suggest that. A second Red Letter. It could technically be argued there was no real cost in letting it arrive. No immediate one, anyway. But the political fallout? The fallout would be legendary if word spread that the nobles were harbouring someone responsible for a Red Letter. The House of Light ¡ª currently under her control ¡ª could make a serious play for power in the aftermath.


    ¡°Are there any Wardens in the vicinity?¡± Esme inquired.


    ¡°The closest Wardens have been dispatched to contain a ranging monster tamer further north,¡± Jade explained. ¡°However, there is an unassigned band of heroes which could be put to the task.¡±


    Esme¡¯s mind turned the problem over like a wheel caught in rough waters. Solutions were plentiful, but none without consequence. The virtuous solution would be to deploy heroes and inform both the First Prince and the child prince of Aequitan. The inventor would be brought to heel quietly in the background and nobody would be any wiser. The nobles would escape any true accountability in the process, but the principate would remain stable. Then there was the ill-considered choice: to look the other way and allow the Red Letter to strike like a storm, then capitalize on the outcome. But a third option lingered, the one she suspected Sister Jade would favour most.


    ¡°You¡¯d advise sending the heroes but not informing the nobles,¡± Esme surmised.


    There was risk in this game. Launching a full investigation into the nobility without their knowledge could easily be seen as overstepping her authority. Yet, it could also further erode their standing, provided she framed it well. But was the cost worth it? Taylor would never approve, of course. Then again¡­ did the Aspirant truly need to find out? She could frame it as action taken by a group of heroes without her oversight if organized correctly.


    ¡°It would be a fitting chastisement of the nobility,¡± the sister said as she smiled.


    ¡°How long do I have to decide on this?¡± she pressed.


    ¡°Not long,¡± Jade warned.


    Esme furrowed her brow in thought. There were other possibilities, other considerations to weigh besides those three. This was a dangerous game, and she would be sailing without stars to see by.


    ¡°We¡¯d only need to allow nature to take its course,¡± she said slowly.


    ¡°We¡¯d only need to allow nature to take its course,¡± Jade agreed.


    She would consult with a few more advisors first. She¡¯d also need to launch some more discreet investigations. This would be the kind of plot she¡¯d lay to undermine herself. After all, why shouldn¡¯t the nobility bite off more than they could chew for once?


    Still, in spite of the fact this looked like bait, the idea tempted her.


    More than she cared to admit.

 Elysium 7.10

    ¡°Do not ask why a betrayal happens. Ask why they believed they could live with the consequences.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Terribilis II


    <hr>


    A torrential downpour battered us in sheets of molten gold.


    Blinding.


    Relentless.


    Arcadia had shattered.


    We stood on an island of wreckage: broken palisades, shattered wagons, and dugouts abandoned by the tyrant''s fleeing soldiers. My eyes trailed along the ground until it reached the very edge of reality. An uncomfortably close rend located only a thousand feet away. The edges were jagged, torn as if Arcadia had been nothing more than a sketch on parchment, ripped out and thrown into a cosmic chasm. The perimeter of the island crumbled away, dissolving like sand. Every crack in the ground widened with the sound of splintering glass, sending shards spiralling into the abyss.


    Beyond the edge was pure nothingness, a place where even the Fae¡¯s rules unravelled.


    Moving felt wrong, like wading through thick smoke. My head swam through a surreal soup as I turned toward Yvette. I grimaced. The world dragged behind me. Every motion trailed as if it was woven through coloured incense. I hesitated before stepping forward, the parting of Arcadia underfoot a stark reminder that every move might unravel reality itself.


    The choir of compassion drowned me in a sense of danger.


    One that overwhelmed every other emotion that I felt.


    Be extremely careful here, Taylor.


    ¡°Like mother, like daughter,¡± Roland exhaled.


    ¡°Yvie, what did you do? Explain. Now.¡± I demanded.


    Yvette stood there. A perfect sphere of stillness among the storm surrounded her. She blinked languidly at me, then smiled.


    ¡°The light¡¯s fading,¡± Yvette said as she shaded her eyes with one hand and gestured lazily at the sky with the other, ¡°we¡¯ve got to cross the bridge before it¡¯s gone.¡±


    I followed her finger.


    An enormous hourglass floated horizontally in the sky above us. Both chambers swirled with grains of liquid sunshine. A familiar dagger pierced the stem. The blade emitted an eerie grey glow, one that steadily drained colour from the world around it. Sand bled from the break, a steady rain of light cascading down onto us.


    ¡°Drop the theatrics, Yvie,¡± I crossed my arms and chided her.


    ¡°Let me have my moment,¡± she huffed and folded her arms.


    Gods Above, save me from teenagers. If we survive this, I¡¯m putting Yvette in time-out until she¡¯s thirty.


    ¡°Moments can wait,¡± I cajoled. ¡°I¡¯ll make it up to you later. Promise.¡±


    ¡°Deal,¡± she said with a smile.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± I asked. ¡°How long do we have until everything breaks?¡±


    ¡°Somewhere between life and death,¡± Roland whispered.


    ¡°Half the light¡¯s left before the ritual collapses,¡± Yvette said, her tone clipped. ¡°I¡¯ll explain while we walk. Best that we don¡¯t let the present catch-up to us.¡±


    ¡°Will the sun run out?¡± I asked, concerned.


    I hoped that we weren¡¯t permanently damaging a vital part of Arcadia.


    ¡°The sun can always rise again,¡± she shrugged.


    You¡¯re doing a terrible job at reassuring any of us.


    Roland and I exchanged wary glances before trailing after Yvette. She skipped ahead past scorched and battered books with the reckless energy of someone oblivious to the void beneath her feet. The arch stretched out from the edge of our island across the void to another. I narrowed my eyes. It wasn¡¯t stone or wood. It was bone.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± I repeated as I stepped onto the bridge.


    The spine of Summer¡¯s dragon reverberated rhythmically beneath our feet. It had been stripped bare and repurposed into a path. Skeletal wings flanked it on either side. Their joints had been locked into unnatural curves to form railings. Flames danced along their edges at even intervals. Torches that lit the way ahead to the icy island on the opposite side.


    ¡°You wanted to go back,¡± Yvette said snarkily from the front of our group. ¡°We¡¯re back¡­ or close enough.¡±


    Her answer told me nothing. I¡¯d told her to build a metaphoric tower, something to manifest an illusion of the moment the Summer and Winter courts first came into existence. Metaphysics wasn¡¯t my domain of expertise, but this didn¡¯t look pretend at all.


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Back¡­ where?¡±


    ¡°The beginning,¡± she said. ¡°I replicated the moment it all began.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Roland interjected from behind, ¡°you¡¯re claiming this is where Summer and Winter began?¡±


    He sounded somewhere between spooked and awed.


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Yvette sounded chagrined. ¡°There wasn¡¯t enough of a link to lock onto the exact moment.¡±


    Find out what happened first.


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± I enunciated each word with care. ¡°What exactly did you do?¡±


    ¡°A tower of hubris,¡± Roland muttered, ¡°built upon illusions of grandeur.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she skipped uncomfortably from one foot to the other, ¡°I managed to¡­ sort of reach the culmination of their first great clash. Maybe not perfectly. Summer and Winter, locked forever in their stupid dance. Look over there,¡± she pointed.


    I shaded my eyes and stared into the distance.


    A glacier towered like a frozen monolith on the horizon. A shard of primordial chaos frozen, adrift in the sea of the abyss. Two figures moved atop it, locked in an eternal battle beneath the radiant rain. The King of Winter and the Queen of Summer were trapped in their duties. Frost and fire collided in waves that rippled across the battlefield.


    ¡°Could you shed light on the etherealness of reality?¡± Roland interjected.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t actually send us back,¡± Yvette¡¯s shoulders hunched defensively as she paused. ¡°That would be too much even with the Arcadian sun to fuel the ritual. So I created a bridge, then sort of projected a shadow of us into events of the past. That projection can influence historical events to a limited extent, but only so far.¡±


    Oh, wonderful. A teenage wizard playing with the fabric of time. What could possibly go wrong?


    ¡°Only so far,¡± I said woodenly.


    ¡°Big changes to history? Boom! Arcadia explodes, and we die. Simple. No pressure at all,¡± her laughter wavered as she shrugged.


    I exchanged a glance with Roland. Waiting it out tempted me. Just standing here and allowing the timer to run dry seemed like the safer option. But the illusion of safety wouldn¡¯t get them their souls back. I¡¯d trusted Yvette this far. I¡¯d said that I¡¯d play every card that I had. Well, we¡¯d played one card I didn¡¯t believe existed at all. Now I might as well see it through. I hesitated, my hand clenching and unclenching as the seconds bled away. Then ¡ª with a shallow nod ¡ª I forced myself to move once more.


    ¡°A reassuring state of affairs,¡± the Rogue Sorcerer muttered. ¡°I should¡¯ve stayed in Beaumarais.¡±


    I didn¡¯t blame him, either.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make an exception to my no drinking rule when we¡¯re done,¡± I agreed.


    Yvette sputtered, before shooting me a betrayed look. Although she didn¡¯t appear to be truly offended. She was riding such a high from having succeeded that I doubted she could be upset.


    The spine twisted below us like a living thing. It¡¯s skeletal structure groaning under unseen strain as the island behind us fractured further, splitting into two.


    ¡°We need to hurry,¡± I urged. ¡°Which story are we leaning into?¡±


    I didn¡¯t know any Calernian time travel stories, and I wasn¡¯t particularly keen on leaning into the Earth ones that I was aware of. Most didn¡¯t end too well. I had no intention of killing my grandfather, even if he was here. Perhaps we could rely on a regular Creation story instead?


    ¡°Calm yourself,¡± Yvette stretched out the words. ¡°I¡¯ve thought this through. We can use it; we just need to-¡±


    ¡°Even shadows move to their own rhythm tonight,¡± Larat drawled. ¡°A fine evening for scheming, is it not?¡±


    Yvette stopped mid-step.


    I froze.


    The Prince of Nightfall emerged from behind the entrance to a maze of ice as we stepped off the other end of the bridge. Two mismatched eyes fell upon me.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here,¡± Yvette accused.


    ¡°Seven and one titans once sought to unmake Creation¡¯s weave,¡± the creature mused.


    Spiders ran down my spine.


    ¡°They found that audacity is a blade that cuts its wielder. Of those titans,¡± Larat said, ¡°only the shadow of one lingered, bound by its scars.¡±


    The Prince of Nightfall paused and blew another ring from his pipe.


    ¡°Fitting, is it not,¡± he cocked his head, ¡°that the shadow is now the one to pay the price?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not changing the past,¡± I challenged, ¡°Just the future.¡±


    ¡°Yet here you trespass,¡± he spread his arms wide and gestured with the pipe, ¡°clinging to the shattered bones of a history not yours.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here,¡± Yvette repeated her accusation.


    ¡°Shadows twist to their tale,¡± the Prince of Nightfall¡¯s voice dipped, ¡°even when the light demands for stillness. For even the brightest light casts a shadow. The darker the illumination, the longer the reach.¡±


    ¡°You want something,¡± I concluded.


    ¡°I want what I¡¯ve always wanted,¡± he replied. ¡°Now, a deal, if you will.¡±


    I inclined my head at Roland slightly.


    Roland crossed his arms and shifted on his feet. ¡°The-¡±


    ¡°Every wasted move in this game hastens the fall of the final grain in the hourglass of fate,¡± the fae interjected sharply.


    I squinted at him. Smooth. Unperturbed. Like he hadn¡¯t just been betrayed by the Tyrant and stripped of his path to freedom. He might have another way out, but I doubted it. His best bet remained in ingratiating himself with me.


    ¡°Speak,¡± I said.


    The egg of time¡¯s golden yolk continued to rain down upon us.


    My breath caught when I noticed that a tenth of the sand had fallen already.


    ¡°I will uphold your original offer,¡± the Prince of Nightfall said, ¡°and I will help you see your ends through.¡±


    It remained unsaid that he wanted me to fulfil my side of the bargain.


    ¡°Nothing binds us,¡± I asserted. ¡°You know that.¡±


    ¡°I know you will act, Priestess,¡± he puffed out a cloud of poppy. ¡°Your nature demands it of you.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°So you will see our purpose fulfilled,¡± Roland challenged.


    ¡°The wrong step here will see your designs unravel,¡± Larat explained.


    ¡°A single mistake here might see us all fall,¡± Roland agreed.


    I stiffened as I felt the air lighten subtly.


    ¡°The path forward is littered with shattered mirrors,¡± Larat¡¯s voice whispered through the murk, ¡°each shard a story left untold.¡±


    I glanced around.


    The already flimsy vision of the past had frayed a little further.


    ¡°That¡¯s one way to put it,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Perhaps a prophecy will light the darkened path,¡± the prince of Nightfall proposed.


    His eyes darted towards the monarchs fighting in the distance. I furrowed my brow. A prophecy. One could provide us with the edge we needed if it was worded correctly. That wouldn¡¯t change the past too much while giving us a lever on the future.


    ¡°Not much to go on,¡± I countered,¡± and we need to hurry.¡±


    ¡°I was going to suggest a prophecy earlier,¡± Yvette groused.


    ¡°Then know that the Tyrant is also here,¡± Larat warned.


    ¡°Can I kill him?¡± I sighed as I asked Yvette.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s true, but if it is, and you kill him, the ritual breaks. Why is he here?¡± she complained. ¡°I tied it to everyone in a small region of space. Nobody but us should be here unless¡­¡± her voice dropped into ominous tones. ¡°Somebody folded Arcadia at the last moment.¡±


    The King of Winter. Of course, it had to be him. He¡¯d been grinning at the end, like he¡¯d already won. He would have some plan ready to twist this mess to his own benefit.


    ¡°The Tyrant betrayed every other agreement,¡± Roland dramatized, ¡°why would this be any different?¡±


    ¡°Even the most fragile puppet may yet sever its strings,¡± Larat agreed. ¡°However, the spawn of chaos craves an audience for his jests. There is no certainty that your failure would not seed victory of another kind.¡±


    What else could I bargain for? I still didn¡¯t know the Queen of Summer¡¯s duties. I¡¯d planned to ask for her role and not Winter¡¯s, then piece the rest together from context. That plan had gone nowhere. Larat might lie if I asked, but even his lies might leave breadcrumbs. Better something than the nothing I had now.


    ¡°List the King of Winter¡¯s duties and uphold our agreement. I¡¯ll consider it,¡± I said.


    ¡°Do you truly not know?¡± he sounded genuinely surprised. ¡°Any among us could have answered. We have all seen our story play out in full.¡±


    Is he suggesting¡­ Fuck, why didn¡¯t I just ask some random fae instead of complicating everything.


    ¡°Answer the question,¡± I sighed.


    ¡°To destroy Summer, to Protect Skade, and to see the Sun defeated,¡± his lips twitched as he replied.


    I couldn¡¯t tell if he was lying, but it provided me with a starting point. I could reasonably assume that Summer¡¯s goals might be the inverse. The destruction of Winter, Aine¡¯s protection, the Sun¡¯s triumph. It would explain the attack on Aine. Not much to go off but¡­ better than nothing. I¡¯d all him to tag along if he¡¯d free the souls as a gesture of goodwill.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I conceded, ¡°I¡¯ll uphold the original offer. A prophecy it is then.¡±


    We walked in silence along a jagged path to the end of the second island. Another arched spine thick with frost stretched from its far edge. Ice clung to its surface in jagged streaks, glinting cold and sharp under the golden downpour. The wings swayed as we crossed the dead beast.


    Another island lay on the opposing side.


    One that reminded me of a sleepy town in Procer more than anywhere else.


    All of us tensed as a thunder crack detonated from somewhere up ahead. The Tyrant of Helike stepped out from behind a flowing fountain, twirling his ivory sceptre as he approached. He strolled towards us as if the imminent collapse of reality wasn¡¯t a significant concern, laid a malevolent red eye on me and grinned.


    ¡°Friends!¡± the Tyrant said. ¡°What a delightful lie to tell ourselves this evening.¡±


    ¡°Wow!¡± Yvette exclaimed sarcastically. ¡°He¡¯s mastered the art of false sincerity.¡±


    ¡°Gratitude is such a fleeting pleasure, isn¡¯t it?¡± the Tyrant grinned at her. ¡°Still, I¡¯ll commission a picture of this moment when we¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°I doubt he even has to try to be an asshole,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Charm is but one weapon among many,¡± the Tyrant twisted my words with a nod, ¡°and I do so enjoy wielding it.¡±


    All of us stumbled as the ground lurched. The broken vision warped. My heart thundered as events from the future overlapped in an incomprehensible kaleidoscope of colours.


    ¡°Half our time has already dwindled. The sword of fate hangs by a thread,¡± Roland urged, ¡°let¡¯s not waste it.¡±


    ¡°No kidding,¡± I said shakily.


    ¡°Time aplenty for five heroes riding forth,¡± the youth replied while falling into step beside us.


    ¡°Five prisoners, bound by fate,¡± Roland countered. ¡°None of us are free in this tale.¡±


    ¡°Fate and I are old lovers,¡± the Tyrant declared.


    ¡°See the hourglass?¡± I said with a gesture. ¡°That¡¯s your lifespan.¡±


    ¡°She understands that she¡¯ll get out of my way,¡± the Tyrant ignored me as he postured, ¡°or I¡¯ll break her beneath my boot.¡±


    Despite his posturing, his pace picked up.


    A malevolent red eye fell upon the Prince of Nightfall.


    ¡°It appears one person¡¯s missing from our merry band,¡± Kairos said. ¡°Tell me, where¡¯s your friend with the bow?¡±


    ¡°Her spirit lingers among us,¡± the prince winked with Ranger¡¯s eye.


    ¡°Ah, sacrifices,¡± the Tyrant sighed whistfully.


    ¡°Every story demands its share of casualties,¡± Larat concurred. ¡°I wonder who else might wear the mask of the martyr today?¡±


    ¡°Sacrifices are always sweeter when someone else is on the altar,¡± the Tyrant said.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± the Prince of Nightfall mused, ¡°what cost will the story demand from you before for its inevitable end?¡±


    ¡°See anything new with that eye?¡± Kairos evaded.


    ¡°I see enough,¡± Larat replied. ¡°The next step of the path is yours to shape,¡± Larat gestured to me and the glacier in the distance.


    I weighed it for several heartbeats, then acceded to the request. We didn¡¯t have enough time for me to reflect. The others waited for me to finish. A lattice of interlocking barriers soon shimmered under the falling rain.


    The dream trembled again.


    We all broke into a sprint.


    ¡°No draconic transformation this time?¡± Kairos shouted, ¡°A pity. Really. I¡¯ve never walked over the spine of a slave so well shaped for the role.¡±


    ¡°The hells built a special throne just for you,¡± I countered.


    ¡°Curious, isn¡¯t it?¡± he replied. ¡°What lies beyond death¡¯s veil for you? Oh, that¡¯s right,¡± he grinned, ¡°you¡¯ll never find out.¡±


    ¡°Can I silence him?¡± Yvette panted. ¡°He needs to stay alive, that doesn¡¯t mean he needs to keep talking.¡±


    Could we risk it? Allowing manipulators to talk always ended poorly. He could twist events in his favour with only a few words. If we silenced him outright, though¡­ He¡¯d retaliate. I took a deep breath. I still didn¡¯t know the limitations on Wish, and the Tyrant would no doubt blow all of us up if he didn¡¯t have the opportunity to perform.


    ¡°If you¡¯re so eager to silence me,¡± Kairos mocked, ¡°a kiss will do. Consider it my charitable act of the day.¡±


    He smiled as my eyes bored holes into him.


    ¡°Nothing would please me more than to sever his tongue,¡± the Prince of Nightfall threatened. ¡°Alas, it would likely slither off and sow chaos on its own.¡±


    The Prince of Nightfall was the unknown element. He wouldn¡¯t back the Tyrant, but that didn¡¯t mean he¡¯d side with me either. How much should I trust him? How much could I? Temporary freedom allowed him to chase his own interests. Those interests lined up with mine at present. He knew I strove to make his freedom permanent. Fine. If I thought the alliance held no worth now, there was no point in involving him at all.


    ¡°I can always burn it then,¡± Yvette wheezed.


    ¡°Dearest princess, I knew your heart would falter someday,¡± Kairos gasped, ¡°who could ever resist?¡±


    I thought about silencing him for longer than I¡¯d like before replying.


    ¡°No, Yvie,¡± I said reluctantly.


    Her pout mirrored my frown.


    ¡°See,¡± Kairos cheered, ¡°even-¡±


    God¡¯s Above, I¡¯m not listening to another word from this monster.


    ¡°Want me to try fixing your leg?¡± I interjected sweetly.


    I didn¡¯t know if I could pull it off, but I had a better chance than anyone else. He was a villain, after all. A redemption story begged for it. If he accepted, it meant the odds were already leaning my way.


    Kairos¡¯s mouth snapped shut.


    A small measure of guilt blossomed as dark satisfaction surged.


    The rest of the trip across my bridge was silent save for the sound of breathing and footfalls. Not calm, though. My thoughts gnawed at the edges as our two temporary companions flanked us on either side. We crested the thawing glacier.


    ¡°There is no victory without sacrifice,¡± Larat said solemnly, ¡°no end without a beginning.¡±


    Nobody replied.


    The top of the ice mountain plateaued, only to slope into a narrow path on the far side. A magnificent galleon waited there, docked in a frigid sea. Its sails snapped in the wind and rain. The King and Queen clashed atop the plateau. Frost bit and flames licked through the air in bursts, marring the otherwise tranquil environment.


    A brief moment was spared to discuss how we¡¯d approach the fae monarchs.


    Kairos did little more than throw barbs in at the side.


    Wants to destroy Winter.


    Wants to consume Summer.


    At least I didn¡¯t need to worry about deterring them from their goals.


    ¡°Go ahead, Taylor,¡± Kairos said as he waved disdainfully towards the fight. ¡°Breaking things is your true art, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I clamped my jaw shut before the words slipped out. A sharp retort would only bait him into proving he could interrupt the fight, and I didn¡¯t care to see how that ended. No, better to leave that fate untempted. I was the most durable of this temporary ¡®alliance¡¯. If someone had to draw the ire of the fae monarchs, it should be me.


    ¡°You two!¡± Light flared as I bellowed, ¡°Stop! Listen!¡±


    My words slid past them like Songbird and responsibility. No surprises there. Fury drowned out their capacity to reason. It didn¡¯t mean I shouldn¡¯t try.


    The King of Winter¡¯s movements were hard to follow. He danced with the elegance of entropy, his face sporting a grin sharp enough to draw blood. Waves of ice lashed out from his hands, jagged and merciless, only to shatter against the edge of the Queen¡¯s yew spear. She met his attack with a feral smile, her teeth were bared as if she dared him to do worse. Two monsters, trapped in the earliest rendition of their eternal dance.


    Neither participant was willing to yield.


    I called twice more in the vain hope that I¡¯d not need to attempt a riskier plan.


    No success.


    One glance at the sky told me we had only a fraction of our time left.


    This is a really stupid idea.


    I riled myself up while waiting for the right moment.


    One step.


    Then another.


    I swallowed hard as I stepped into the space between them. Knowing intellectually that they theoretically were unable to harm me did nothing for my nerves. The Queen of Summer¡¯s spear streaked toward me, faster than thought.


    My hand shot up on instinct.


    The weapon cracked in my grip. The sky trembled. The void closed in. The gilded deluge died down to a trickle as the prismatic mirror we walked within fragmented even further.


    ¡­ What?


    The world seemed to hold its breath as everyone stilled.


    Another puzzle piece fell into place.


    This was so far back in time that the Fae monarchs were barely more than archetypes. No layers of story yet to bolster what they could do. Just raw power. Still terrifying, but stripped of any additional context. It explained why I¡¯d been able to damage the spear. It also explained something else.


    My mouth went dry as I squinted at the hourglass in the sky. Time bled away like water from a leaky gourd. Every glinting grain seemed to echo as it fell into the void, an unrelenting reminder of our narrowing chances. Less than a tenth of our time remained. No room for clever plans. No time for caution. I moved without thinking. Lines of white sealed over the breaks as I returned the spear to the Queen.


    ¡°Wait!¡± I declared.


    Both combatants examined me like animals examining a new predator intruding onto their territory.


    ¡°Step aside, strangers,¡± the Queen of Summer said, ¡°I have no quarrel with you, whoever you may be.¡±


    ¡°My Prince of Nightfall,¡± the King of Winter mused. ¡°You perished during the last clash. What trickery sees you standing before me?¡±


    My heart thundered in my chest as Roland spoke, ¡°Five heralds stand mired in the past, bearing a prophecy of that which is yet to come.¡±


    ¡°The march of eternity holds for nobody,¡± I continued, ¡°Many seasons will pass and yet the tale of Summer and Winter will forever be the same. But time is the river that quenches all flames, and the rage that now consumes you will one day die away.¡±


    ¡°In a future far off,¡± Yvette continued, ¡°in an age yet to come, another cycle of war will rage once again.¡±


    ¡°What was once said in the distant past will have almost faded from memory,¡± Roland declared.


    ¡°Only this time,¡± I recited, ¡°events will pass differently. A Princess from a far off court will wander among the lands of Summer and Winter both. Born from a Court from Beyond the Stars, she will be a prisoner to the hounds of Winter and an ambassador to Summer¡¯s finest warriors.¡±


    ¡°Her arrival will warn of the end of an age,¡± Yvette foretold. ¡°For a time will come when the Princess sets down the crown of her past. A time will come when Summer and Winter unite in purpose. A single court that stands guard for that which is within against that which is without.¡±


    I stiffened as Larat spoke.


    The Prince of Nightfall leaned forward slightly, his mismatched eyes glinting as his lips curled into a knowing smile. He opened his mouth and spoke: ¡°Seven bindings shall tie seven makers to their fates before the seasons will end.¡±


    Seven agreements? That meant Kairos had made four. One with the King of Winter, one with Larat, but who were the other two? Perhaps one with either Sulia or the Queen of Summer and one with the Ranger? Either way, it wasn¡¯t a problem.


    I bit back an oath as the Tyrant opened his mouth.


    Weeping heavens, I swear if you mess this up for all of us, I will haunt you in the afterlife.


    ¡°Seven agreements will be upheld,¡± Kairos grinned as he spoke.


    Of course. Now I somehow need to uphold all my existing agreements in order to end this nonsense.


    ¡°And as the final turning of the season ends, an eighth agreement will be debated over the corpse of the last,¡± Larat declared, sounding unperturbed. ¡°One that will shape the future to come.¡±


    Why isn¡¯t he worried?


    The Tyrant opened his mouth again. I tried to jam it shut with Light, only for the fraying reality to rend my miracle apart.


    ¡°And as the final deal is struck, a new court will be born,¡± Kairos finished with a bow and a grin. ¡°One that will drown the future in chaos and blood.¡±


    My fury spiked.


    I tried to speak.


    Tried to voice my protest.


    Darkness swirled around us.


    The void swallowed the edges of our reality like ink blotting out parchment.


    The vision shattered as half the sand in the hourglass ran out.

 Elysium 7.11

    ¡°The sun will always rise again, but it will never burn the same way twice.¡±


    ¡ª Eudokia the Oft-Abducted, Basilea of Nicae


    <hr>


    The clouds churned, darkened, and then solidified, reshaping the world as the very fabric of reality bent. We stood once more at the battlefield outside Aine. Little had changed, and yet somehow, everything was different. A continuous torrent of grey struck the sky from the centre of the ritual. The heavens bled of colour as life itself drained from the air. Arcadia folded in on itself at the will of whichever fae monarch chose to manipulate it.


    A deafening crash rippled outward.


    A sound that shook the very ground beneath my feet.


    The explosion echoed across the land.


    Arcadia trembled.


    A fragile barrier stood between us and the catastrophe beyond.


    We stood in the eye of the storm.


    And beyond it? Nothing. The world crumbled away. Arcadia withered as if the very essence of it had been erased. Only the hollowed out remnants of something once grand lingered.


    The last remnants of desolation faded away.


    The world expanded once more.


    The wasteland vanished over the horizon.


    I swallowed.


    My breath was tight in my chest as my fury returned to me.


    Why had Larat betrayed us? Or perhaps the better question was: why had I ever trusted him? No, too defeatest. I couldn¡¯t afford to distrust everyone. So, what had I missed? The prophecy had been twisted by Kairos, and now everything felt like it was slipping from my grasp. I had no time to waste on regret, but the weight of it threatened to drown me.


    I¡¯d trusted the Prince of Nightfall. But I¡¯d been wrong.


    I needed to focus. Focus. What did I have left to use? Nothing I could see. No tricks. No plans. Just the remnants of every attempt I¡¯d made. But I wasn¡¯t done. Not yet.


    I would not let Kairos win.


    Not while my companions were still missing their souls.


    Gold and silver rays cut through the darkened sky, pulling my thoughts back to the ritual site. The dregs of Summer¡¯s Sun coalesced before us. A tear-drop shape of silver light now replaced half the warmth. Cold, unfeeling. A mockery of what it had once been.


    My fists tightened until my nails bit into my palms.


    ¡°Whoa. That¡¯s¡­ a lot of desolation,¡± Yvette scrambled backwards and yelped. ¡°Okay, so maybe I didn¡¯t think this part through, but¡ªhey!¡± she shifted guiltily from one foot to another. ¡°This new Sun is fascinating! I mean, what can we do with that?¡±


    Not the time.


    ¡°At least we can uphold one agreement,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°Uphold it?¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°You mean, hold it together with prayer alone?¡±


    I darted forward, snatching the Sun within a reinforced barrier of Light. Both to prevent Yvette from experimenting with it and to stop anyone else. It hissed silver and gold as it fought against my interdiction. I forced it into submission. There was no room for failure. Not here. Not now.


    A pit formed in my stomach as I examined my companions further.


    Want to have their souls back.


    I reached out and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.


    My grip was firm, but my hands trembled just slightly.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said softly. ¡°Chin up, both of you. We¡¯ll get your souls back. Promise.¡±


    That¡¯s easy for you to say when you still have yours,¡± Yvette crossed her arms tightly and scowled at the floor as she muttered. ¡°Must be nice. Do you even know what it feels like not to? No, of course, you don¡¯t.¡±


    I stepped forward and enfolded both into a brief, tense hug.


    ¡°I know it doesn¡¯t sound reassuring, but I¡¯ve pulled through worse odds than this,¡± I consoled them.


    ¡°That does little to assuage my fears,¡± Roland said.


    I swallowed a lump of dread like curdled milk.


    ¡°Have faith,¡± I said. ¡°Just a bit longer.¡±


    An ominous crackle split the air above us and interrupted the moment.


    I watched with anguish as a mask of false indifference pulled its way across both their faces.


    ¡°The tide waits for the sun to guide it,¡± Roland said, pointing, ¡°what strategy will see us to victory?¡±


    I followed his finger. My stomach twisted.


    The fae rulers were sizing each other up like predators circling their prey.


    They stood at opposite ends of the field.


    Waiting.


    Just waiting.


    Kairos lounged on his gilded throne in the shadow of the King of Winter. An infuriating grin crossed his face as his fingers drummed an irregular rhythm on the armrest. The same mocking, triumphant one that I¡¯d come to loathe. My breath caught, and I fought the urge to lash out.


    The Tyrant¡¯s army numbered stronger than I¡¯d expected given the catastrophe. At least half remained behind Winter¡¯s lines, their survival insured by whatever force had twisted reality into this sandpit. I¡¯d guess one of the fae monarchs had saved their hide.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know,¡± I sighed.


    What can we do? Think, Taylor. What¡¯s the first step here?


    The first step was in theory simple: stop the erupting conflict. Depending on how well I¡¯d read the fae courts, this wouldn¡¯t be as challenging as it seemed. Merging both courts resolved everything. Winter and Summer would both fall if they combined, Aine and Skade would both be protected, and the Sun would be defeated but triumphant. Now, how to make that happen?


    ¡°I thought you said the fae value freedom above everything?¡± Roland asked, subdued.


    Hearing Roland speak without his usual theatricality stung.


    It stung a lot.


    The Queen of Summer glanced at Larat. Two mismatched eyes met my own as I stared his way. He stepped away from Ranger¡¯s fallen body with calm, deliberate, movements. The air was thick with tension. I could almost taste it.


    Their nature. That was it. Larat hadn¡¯t looked surprised when the Tyrant had interjected. I refused to believe that he¡¯d act against his own best interests. That meant a path through this mess still existed. I just had to find it. It also meant that he might not have backstabbed us.


    ¡°They do,¡± my voice caught as I confirmed. ¡°Walk with me, both of you.¡±


    It meant something if Larat wasn¡¯t opposed to us. It meant that Kairos had made a mistake. We only needed to shine a light through the stained-glass window to illuminate its shadow.


    What could I use here?


    I needed to think.


    Sulia¡¯s death? I¡¯d warned her that accumulating mistakes would kill her before she¡¯d gone on to make another. If I counted that, whatever blunder she¡¯d made to get captured by Kairos and her dying to the story of Icarus, then it had taken three to kill her.


    I could use that.


    ¡°But-¡± Roland sputtered.


    Claiming that all the agreements had been upheld might buy us a chance. Unfortunately, I doubted it would count as an outright win. Kairos still had more hymns in his dark book, waiting to murder any hope I prayed for. But it could stall. I needed time to dredge up another two mistakes. Could I present a convincing argument? Perhaps if I argued for the letter of the agreements rather than the spirit of it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll convince them that our agreements are upheld,¡± I declared with an entire monastery¡¯s worth more conviction than I truly felt.


    The first mistake was obvious: he¡¯d cornered the hero. That was one. But I struggled to identify a second mistake. Betrayal was a strategy and not a misstep for Kairos. How about sending the Midnight Casket to the front? No, that was tactical too. Leaving it in the spire would¡¯ve been a worse blunder. It¡¯d mean I¡¯d have gained both the Sun and an audience with the King of Winter. No, neither of those counted.


    ¡°Convince them?¡± Roland pressed. ¡°You know that¡¯s no small thing, Taylor. You¡¯re banking on stories we barely know.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I sighed, ¡°but we can¡¯t just give up.¡±


    How could I beat the Tyrant at his own game? We could only stall for so long before we reached a pivot. I didn¡¯t want to go into that fight blind. I required a weapon to use.


    ¡°What about-¡± Yvette spoke.


    ¡°I need you both to stall negotiations,¡± I interrupted. ¡°Pick stories, any stories, that strengthen our argument. Debate twitch the Tyrant while I find a crack in his armour.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Roland and Yvette both agreed.


    We stepped hand in hand past shattered walls, splintered wood, and blood-soaked earth. The battlefield was a grotesque wound stretching between Winter and Summer. The Queen stood beneath Aine¡¯s broken gates. The King stood distant and cold.


    I raised my hand.


    ¡°Hold!¡± my voice cut through the still air as I barked.


    The silence that followed stole the words from my mouth.


    The Queen¡¯s eyes shifted.


    Her attention flickered for the briefest moment from the King of Winter to me.


    ¡°The battle is far from over,¡± she whispered. ¡°The war is not yet won.¡±


    I stepped forward and proffered the fractured Sun towards her.


    ¡°The return of the Sun marks the completion of our pact,¡± I announced.


    ¡°I see only half of Summer¡¯s radiance,¡± the Queen said with a sceptical stare. ¡°Tell me, what is it you truly offer as proof of our pact fulfilled?¡±


    I¡¯m so out of ideas. Think, Taylor.


    I wanted to scream.


    I only had terrible ideas left.


    Better try and fail, then don¡¯t try at all.


    ¡°I promised the sun back,¡± I urged her. ¡°Never said how bright it¡¯d shine.¡±


    ¡°Oh dear, priestess,¡± the Tyrant chuckled as he mocked. ¡°Did you strike your head during our return? You¡¯re calling unsettled agreements settled now.¡±


    I gritted my teeth and spared a glance in his direction. Two stone gargoyles flanked either side of his gilded throne. The one on the right had a book balanced on its nose. I resolved not to consider that insanity any further and focused on my goal.


    This was as good a chance as any to introduce my story.


    ¡°I warned Sulia that mistakes pile up like snow,¡± I said through clenched teeth. ¡°She didn¡¯t listen. You¡¯ve seen where that led. Make sure it doesn¡¯t bury you too.¡±


    ¡°Taylor!¡± Helike¡¯s insufferable monarch laid a palm on his chest and exclaimed.


    The gargoyle¡¯s head swivelled towards Kairos.


    The book fell off its nose, bounced off the dais, then landed with a dull thud in the snow.


    ¡°No, not you,¡± the Tyrant tutted. ¡°The other Taylor. Tragic blunder there,¡± a crimson eye fell upon me, ¡°but it was only a Book of All Things,¡± Kairos shrugged. ¡°Nothing of value was lost.¡±


    Did he really?¡­ Of course he did. Why wouldn¡¯t he?


    ¡°Did you paint it¡¯s rear as well?¡± I muttered under my breath.


    ¡°Oh, not until I¡¯ve seen yours,¡± he said with a laugh. ¡°Need to make sure it has the right verses.¡±


    I took a moment to steady my breath.


    Could the Tyrant pull off another betrayal here? He¡¯d backstabbed everyone except me, Roland and Yvette. It was possible ¡ª but unlikely ¡ª without compromising one of us. I¡¯d keep my guard out for another betrayal nonetheless. I couldn¡¯t afford not to when dealing with this monster.


    ¡°Let¡¯s say the Tyrant had a tragic accident here,¡± some of my ire bled through as I addressed Winter¡¯s monarch.


    ¡°And they say I¡¯m the villain here,¡± Kairos twirled his sceptre as he cackled. ¡°Please, Taylor, whisper more poison into our ears.¡±


    Shut up, Kairos.


    ¡°My agreement with him, unfortunately, ensures his survival,¡± stones crunched as the King of Winter commiserated, ¡°until he departs Arcadia for a land beyond your reach. Winter abides by its spoken agreement¡­ though it frays at the edges.¡±


    What an unexpected surprise.


    Another flash of cold weariness buried itself in my chest.


    I brushed it aside.


    ¡°My heart bleeds, truly. Just not too much,¡± Kairos feigned a cough, ¡°you know how fragile I am,¡± he raised a quivering arm.


    ¡°I call for a truce,¡± I ignored his theatrics as I prepared my ploy. ¡°The duty of both sides are upheld by merging the courts.¡±


    ¡°There is no precedent for that,¡± the King of Winter said as a chill wind howled through the air.


    ¡°The prophecy is satisfied,¡± I countered. ¡°Every term upheld.¡±


    The story shifted as the Queen of Summer set her spear down against her will.


    Her brow furrowed in thought.


    It was macabre to watch.


    ¡°A claim has been made,¡± she recited. ¡°A prophecy has been invoked. But all claims require proof. What do you have to show?¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Kairos dragged the word out. ¡°Explain how to the rest of us. You see, I¡¯m something of a rarity,¡± he laughed. ¡°I¡¯m someone who actually kept all his deals.¡±


    ¡°Not even the wind believes you,¡± Yvette muttered.


    ¡°A unique spin on fidelity to one¡¯s bargains, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± the Prince of Nightfall said with enough sarcasm to drown in. ¡°Winter does adore its loopholes.¡±


    ¡°Larat is free,¡± I argued. ¡°The fae need only negotiate the duties of the new Court. I¡¯ve kept my bargain.¡±


    I swallow hard. The words feel thin, but they were all I had. This gamble relied on the belief that Winter¡¯s monarch and Larat valued their freedom above everything else. They both had reason to turn on Kairos. His betrayals cut them as well. Switching sides fit both their nature and their goals. But for this to work, they had to trust in my nature. I required them to trust that I¡¯d follow the spirit of the agreement, despite demanding the letter of it.


    Please, Gods, let this work.


    ¡°The bargain is upheld,¡± Winter¡¯s monarch said as he brushed a hand across his crown of thorns and grinned wickedly. ¡°For now.¡±


    He didn¡¯t volunteer companions souls.


    Not that I¡¯d expected him to.


    I¡¯ll see this agreement through.


    ¡°My bargain, too, is fulfilled.¡± Larat taunted with a smile of his own.


    A small spark of hope ignited in my chest. I sent a quiet prayer to the gods and did my best not to smile as the sparks in all three fae present pulsed a little brighter.


    ¡°That leaves you,¡± I said.


    ¡°So be it,¡± the Queen of Summer said, nodding with regal grace. ¡°We will speak of terms in the shadow of Aine¡¯s gates. Let it be known: Summer does not shrink from its bargains.¡±


    The battle hadn¡¯t ended. This was only the first round.


    Kairos¡¯s mask of calm cracked for a heartbeat.


    A flicker of irritation flashed across his face before it slid once more behind his mocking fa?ade.


    My prison shattered as the sun floated free from its constraints and returned to its rightful owner.


    I flinched.


    Kairos clambered from his throne and exchanged a few quiet words with the general beside him. His gargoyles flanked him as he stepped off his platform and followed in the shadow of Winter¡¯s King. The general moved the dais towards Helike¡¯s army.


    All seven of us drew closer to the gates of Aine.


    ¡°Miss me, princess?¡± Kairos pouted, feigning hurt. ¡°Oh, come now, not even a greeting?¡± he groused.


    I took a deep breath.


    ¡°Like the filth on my boots,¡± Yvette spat back. ¡°At least that scrapes off.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have your hand one day,¡± the Tyrant winked at Yvette. ¡°How about you, my trusty lieutenant?¡±


    ¡°Not one bit,¡± Roland wiped his brow with a cloth and sighed.


    ¡°You know, my beloved comrades,¡± the Tyrant drawled, ¡°both of you could have your souls back. All it takes is siding with me.¡±


    They won¡¯t side with him. They won¡¯t. Trust that much.


    ¡°You think so little of me?¡± Roland¡¯s voice rose. ¡°You really believe I¡¯d sell my soul to you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not so stupid as to reclaim my soul only to trade it to someone else,¡± Yvette snarled.


    ¡°A pity,¡± Kairos sighed theatrically.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    We reached the gates. There was an awkward silence, broken only by the Tyrants wit, as we waited for a round table and chairs to be brought forth. One that was worsened by the presence of Ranger¡¯s corpse beside us.


    ¡°What about the corpse?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Whoever¡¯s agreement prevails may claim it,¡± ice crackled as the King of Winter replied.


    The Queen of Summer sent him an assessing look, before giving a stiff nod.


    All of us sat down. Roland, Yvette and myself on one side, with me sandwiched in the middle. Kairos sat opposite us, with a gargoyle flanking him on either side. The King of Winter and Larat sat on our left. The Queen of Summer sat on our right, with Ranger¡¯s corpse behind her.


    An attendant brought forth a sheaf of papers and handed them to me.


    I raised my eyebrows.


    ¡°What is this?¡± I inquired.


    ¡°The terms you seek are here,¡± the Queen of Summer¡¯s voice rustled like dying leaves.


    ¡°A moment,¡± I prevaricated. ¡°My companions and I need to talk.¡±


    ¡°You came all this way without a plan?¡± Kairos sneered and rapped the table.


    ¡°Delays are meaningless to me,¡± the King of Winter lied. ¡°The frost preserves time, even as the land decays beneath its stillness.¡±


    The Queen of Summer didn¡¯t reply, but the weight of her disapproval fell upon the tyrant.


    He smiled at them both.


    ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from you, isn¡¯t it?¡± Yvette barked with a scowl. ¡°All you ever do is break things, and leave the rest of us to pick up the pieces!¡±


    ¡°Heroes,¡± Kairos said snidely. ¡°The world bends over backward for fools with swords.¡±


    ¡°Swords? We have no swords. Swords are for people without magic or miracles,¡± Yvette protested. ¡°Ma¡¯s the closest we have to one.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Kairos mused while stroking at an imaginary beard, ¡°so that¡¯s how Taylor got this far. I wonder which pointy end she sticks into people?¡±


    Yvette reddened and glared at him.


    ¡°Beyond the veil of death lies a land of always plenty,¡± a Gargoyle interjected, ¡°which will only be open to the just.¡±


    Everyone stopped and stared.


    ¡°No, not you, Taylor,¡± Kairos chided. ¡°The other Taylor,¡± His smile widened. ¡°I¡¯m teaching it hymns from the Book of All Things. I don¡¯t think anyone will be able to tell them apart.¡±


    I am not that bad.


    An awkward silence stretched.


    I quickly skimmed the documents in front of me, before handing them over to Roland and Yvette. I thought about the contents while they perused the text. It outlined a boundary for the fae. A boundary that kept them out of Creation but left them free to act within Arcadia. Segregation had no appeal to me. I wouldn¡¯t quibble over the details if they fae proposed it and were happy with it. It also allowed them to start whatever stories defined their court anew. Not true freedom, but better than what they had now. It was something.


    Larat puffed lazily at his pipe.


    Kairos swirled his wine glass and cavorted with a gargoyle.


    Roland and Yvette whispered together.


    ¡°The ranks are set,¡± Roland informed everyone, ¡°let the field of negotiation decide the truth.¡±


    ¡°Is delegating your new hobby?¡± Kairos teased. ¡°What happened to pulling the strings yourself?¡±


    ¡°I trust them,¡± I bit out my words.


    A flicker of unease hinted behind the Tyrant¡¯s eyes before vanishing a moment later.


    That¡¯s right, Kairos. We¡¯re all sitting at a negotiating table. This is my game now.


    ¡°Allow me the honour of studying those documents,¡± the Prince of Nightfall interjected. ¡°And if your light blinds me, priestess, rest assured that I will find my way through the dark.¡±


    Should I let him? Larat had sabotaged me enough times already. Handing him the notes for no good reason sounded terrible. But was anything to lose? He¡¯d find any loopholes when the agreement passed, regardless of whether he reviewed them now or not. No, I didn¡¯t think there was a risk. I nodded to Roland and Yvette. They handed Larat the documents. He began to skim.


    ¡°The first duty of the Court Within the Stars is to uphold this past agreement,¡± Roland stated.


    ¡°Uh uh uh,¡± Kairos waved a finger in mock admonition. ¡°That¡¯s not permitted, so long as it furthers the cause of Good.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course. They don¡¯t, do they?¡± Yvette shot back caustically. ¡°Maybe you¡¯d notice if you spent less time flirting with me and more time reading the damned agreements!¡±


    The King of Winter steepled his fingers on the table and grinned.


    ¡°Oh, all right, princess,¡± Kairos blew Yvette a kiss. ¡°Just for you. But next time, bring flowers or something.¡±


    Yvette scowled and sputtered. Kairos made a show of snatching the papers out of Larat¡¯s hand. The Prince of Nightfall raised an amused eyebrow in response.


    ¡°The second duty of the Court Within the Stars,¡± Roland continued, ¡°is to ensure that any present pacts made now between mortals and fae need to further the cause of Good.¡±


    Kairos looked up from the document and tutted.


    ¡°That¡¯s unacceptable!¡± the child king looked up and tutted. ¡°Violating my agreement of no Good allowed.¡±


    Come on. Give me something to work with.


    ¡°No, not the fae themselves,¡± Roland said as he scratched at the lobe of his ear. ¡°The pacts. It¡¯s the pacts that must further Good.¡±


    ¡°Do you think the agreements write themselves?¡± the Tyrant drawled.


    A flicker of heat radiated from the Queen of Summer as the spark inside her dimmed.


    My mouth dried.


    ¡°The third duty is for the Court Within the Stars to guard against the chaos spread by the Court Beyond the Stars,¡± Roland finished.


    ¡°No crusade?¡± the Tyrant whined. ¡°What kind of heroes are you? Do try harder, will you?¡±


    ¡°Fine! Let¡¯s hear them!¡± Yvette snapped. ¡°Show us what you¡¯re really planning.¡±


    ¡°Flip the terms of this scrap of paper, for one,¡± Kairos explained. ¡°The second? All pacts must serve Evil. The third? That war you wanted. The Court Within the Stars against the Court Beyond the Stars.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know if a Fae Court could exist within Creation.


    That wasn¡¯t enough for me to base my argument upon.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your glorious crusade for Evil?¡± Yvette twirled a lock of hair as she countered. ¡°All that criticism, and there''s nothing on your end.¡±


    My nails dug holes into my palms.


    Don¡¯t encourage him, Yvette.


    ¡°Never fear,¡± Kairos drawled as he rapped his sceptre on the table. ¡°There¡¯s time aplenty to rectify that oversight.¡±


    ¡°I am not prepared to accept such a perversion,¡± the Queen of Summer said with a voice as sharp as a blade.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t just stand there! You should both listen to Taylor. She¡¯s trying,¡± Yvette emphasized. ¡°She¡¯s the one who can set you free. She¡¯s doing everything to help you, and the Tyrant? He¡¯ll betray you again as he has done before!¡±


    Fire and frost crackled as the presence of both fae rulers intensified.


    Yvette sputtered, then flinched.


    What had I missed? The tale of seven and one was obviously significant, otherwise Larat wouldn¡¯t have told it. I knew some versions of it. Just not the one he¡¯d called upon.


    ¡°Winter is barred from serving the light,¡± Winter¡¯s King reminded us through the hissing of the wind. ¡°It may not serve Good, only itself.¡±


    ¡°Then change it! Twist the oath or whatever you need to do,¡± Yvette huffed and pointed across the table, ¡°he¡¯s no legend, and he does it all the time!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid my wording was tighter than your grasp on time, dear,¡± Kairos laughed.


    I drummed my fingers on the table.


    ¡°Not possible,¡± Yvette growled as she defended herself. ¡°My interpretation of time was perfectly tight. It¡¯s a closed causal loop and everything happened exactly the way it had to!¡±


    Yvette was correct. It had also evidently always succeeded here. Too many clues pointed to it. The Queen of Summer¡¯s spear had been mended by my Light before we¡¯d been travelled back in time. The empty hourglass the two fae in the market traded back and forth for sand was also a hint in retrospect.


    Are my troubles with Winter trying to imprison me my own fault? No, forget it, Taylor. Not helping.


    Larat''s gaze pierced me over the rim of his goblet of wine.


    The corners of his lips tugged into a grin.


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s still bound to my terms,¡± the Tyrant asserted with a cheery smile. ¡°Which brings us to the Queen of Summer. Ready to swear yourself to Evil?¡±


    My chest tightened as the Queen hesitated.


    Time teetered on the edge of a blade.


    ¡°A simple wish could resolve this,¡± Larat drawled, ¡°if only both sides would trust the blade.¡±


    The Queen of Summer¡¯s mouth paused half open.


    My thoughts leaped from one idea to the next.


    What did Larat imply?


    A wish. My breath caught. That was something. Maybe nothing. Possibly everything. I forced my features still, even as my mind leapt ahead. Kairos? No, it wasn¡¯t about how he¡¯d freed Larat. Couldn¡¯t be. How about the¡­ it took effort not to react as I found the Tyrant¡¯s second mistake. It relied on trusting the Prince of Nightfall to have my back here, but right now? My companion''s souls were still trapped, and I couldn¡¯t afford to turn my back on the opportunity.


    ¡°The Prince of Nightfall has thoughts,¡± I stated. ¡°Why not share them?¡±


    The Queen of Summer closed her mouth.


    Yvette¡¯s eyes narrowed.


    Roland tilted his head.


    Both watched me like I¡¯d gone mad.


    ¡°Taylor,¡± Kairos exclaimed mockingly. ¡°Allowing the pieces their own voice now? How open-minded of you. So open-minded,¡± he drawled, ¡°that something should fall out.¡±


    ¡°You made a wish,¡± I shrugged. ¡°You set the precedent.¡±


    Kairos¡¯s had incorrectly assumed there were only seven agreements active at present. He¡¯d missed the eighth agreement. My negotiation with Larat. The promise to uphold the original offer that I¡¯d given him. That wasn¡¯t the offer that Roland had made. I¡¯d wished for three freedoms, then stated they would be worded by Roland.


    Roland¡¯s wording had been elaborate.


    My wording was loose.


    Freedom to right past wrongs, freedom to mend present troubles, and freedom from this same prison in the future.


    ¡°I suppose there¡¯s more fun to be had with another player at this game,¡± Kairos said as he scratched at his nose.


    Larat had already promised to uphold the spirit of the first wish. The second wish could theoretically be used to use Larat as an arbitrator, but I wanted my story as impregnable as possible before I took the risk.


    I needed to find one more mistake before I buried the Tyrant.


    ¡°Should we not honour the brightest claim first? That of the Queen of Summer. It would be rude not to,¡± Larat paused and puffed at his pipe, ¡°don¡¯t you think?¡±


    It meant I could offer the Prince of Nightfall freedom with the third wish. I hadn¡¯t been the one to make an agreement with him. I¡¯d made no wishes. Roland had. The table creaked as I gripped the edge tighter and did my best not to grin.


    This fight isn¡¯t lost.


    ¡°This,¡± Kairos wheezed, ¡°from one of the fae? How did Evil fall so far?¡±


    Could I accuse Kairos of trying to subvert the prophecy? He had been trying to prevent the formation of a new Court by establishing contradictory agreements. No. He could always pivot that argument and accuse me of the same. If I was using prophetic subversion as an argument, it needed to be grounded on a different term.


    ¡°It¡¯s what happens when you chew off your own foot,¡± Larat replied.


    ¡°Careful, Kairos,¡± the ice crackled as the King of Winter warned. ¡°The snow beneath your feet is thin, and my patience thinner still.¡±


    ¡°And then there is the second: a delightful little amalgam of Taylor¡¯s faith and Kairos¡¯s audacity,¡± Larat continued. ¡°A single court with split duties. Those from Summer extend blessings to virtue, while those from Winter ensures vice pays its price.¡±


    I inhaled slowly. I could live with that. It wasn¡¯t perfect. Perhaps it was too greedy to shape all bargains into blessings. Anyone desperate enough to step into Arcadia already knew the stakes. They could pay the cost.


    ¡°Still counts as helping Good, you know,¡± the Tyrant mocked. ¡°Is the ice too slippery for you, little fox?¡±


    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± Yvette bristled as she spoke. ¡°I¡¯ve seen enough of the Light to know that it shines best when wielded with care. That¡¯s Summer¡¯s purpose. Winter does something else.¡±


    ¡°The third duty,¡± the Prince of Nightfall ignored the interruption, ¡°is to shield Creation¡¯s fragile lattice from the chaos of the Court Beyond the Stars.¡±


    ¡°Why shackle yourself to Arcadia at all?¡± the Tyrant cajoled. ¡°I¡¯m offering true freedom. The kind that lets you snatch whatever you want.¡±


    The sense of the story shifting was as subtle as a tide pulling away. I observed it in the behaviour of the fae. Both monarchs turned toward Kairos, their interest piqued against their will. My chest tightened. We couldn¡¯t walk back our offer. That would be handing the Tyrant a win. Which meant I had two choices. I either had to sweeten the deal or call in the eighth agreement without having a third mistake.


    ¡°You¡¯ve lived it, haven¡¯t you?¡± Roland addressed the King of Winter. ¡°The cost of the freedom Kairos promises. The endless compulsion to sow chaos, no matter the ruin it leaves behind. Is that truly a life you¡¯d want again?¡±


    ¡°Chains?¡± The King of Winter scoffed. ¡°The weight of these bindings would be as snowflakes compared to an avalanche. What I wear now is far heavier.¡±


    ¡°Larat¡¯s proposal hews tighter in some ways than the alternatives to what binds us today,¡± the Queen of Summer confirmed.


    ¡°There¡¯s no reason to settle for the scraps of the world when you could take the whole platter,¡± the Tyrant cajoled.


    ¡°Does it?¡± Yvette countered. ¡°He¡¯s twisting the rules, inverting agreements, and dragging you into Creation for no reason at all. Isn¡¯t that enough already?¡±


    Inverting. All. The. Agreements.


    The narrative tipped in our favour again. I ignored it. That wasn¡¯t my focus. I had my third mistake. Subjective, yes, but still a blunder. The King of Winter hadn¡¯t called it out yet¡ªfor reasons I could only guess¡ªbut he¡¯d seize the opportunity to stab the Tyrant in the back.


    Kairos would regret it.


    ¡°You¡¯ve made three mistakes,¡± I declared.


    Kairos opened his mouth to argue.


    I didn¡¯t let him.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had your three monologues already,¡± I snapped.


    He spat some retort, sending gargoyles and red lightning flying my way. They didn¡¯t reach me. Both crumbled to dust. The fae monarchs ¡ª one or both ¡ª were making their opinions known.


    I raised my index finger.


    ¡°Your past mistake?¡± My lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. ¡°Backing a hero into a corner. You should¡¯ve known better.¡±


    I raised my middle finger.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t-¡± Kairos sputtered as snow buried his side of the table, the Tyrant¡¯s malevolent red eye glaring as he clawed his way free.


    The King of Winter hummed with a smile on his face.


    A smile that promised bloody murder to whoever stood in his way.


    Careful, Taylor, it¡¯s not over yet.


    ¡°Your present mistake?¡± I continued. ¡°Thinking there were only seven agreements. There are eight. The second term of my eighth is simple: resolve this conflict. Larat, it¡¯s time.¡±


    The Prince of Nightfall smiled.


    Don¡¯t forget the monster that lurks behind that handsome face because for once we¡¯re on the same side.


    ¡°A pleasure to arbitrate,¡± he purred.


    I raised my ring finger.


    ¡°Your future mistake?¡± My tone hardened. ¡°Attempting to subvert an unfulfilled prophecy. A single court that stands guard for that which is within against that which is without. Inverting the first agreement binds the Court Within the Stars to Creation, which means it¡¯s no longer able to fulfil its purpose.¡±


    ¡°Frankly,¡± Kairos sneered as he pushed snow away from his face, ¡°they¡¯d do the whole ¡®Within¡¯ part of their Court far better stuck in Creation. Don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    That argument might hold water, except for logistics.


    ¡°Arcadia bends time and space,¡± I countered. ¡°Creation doesn¡¯t. The Court Within the Stars can¡¯t defend against a foe that crosses the world in moments.¡±


    Kairos opened his mouth again.


    I didn¡¯t let him get in another word.


    ¡°No, this is my win,¡± I emphasized with a slam of my fist into the table. ¡°Mistakes have piled up. I¡¯m owed this.¡±


    Tension bled out of me as I rolled my shoulders.


    I grinned as I sensed the story shift.


    ¡°A bargain has been offered,¡± the fae monarchs chorused. ¡°A bargain has been struck. Three duties for a new fae court, as decreed by the Prince of Nightfall. May the joining of Summer and Winter stand guard against the chaos that is to come.¡±


    For a single heartbeat, everything crystallized. The fragments in my mind assembled into something clear and impossible. My Name lurched in one direction. My breath caught in my throat.


    No.


    Relief washed over me as the vision dissolved.


    I hadn¡¯t crossed into something else.


    Arcadia shifted and bent, reshaping itself as Winter and Summer became one. Frost kissed the emerald leaves, their edges shimmering as though carved from glass. The remnants of Summer''s fire wove themselves through Winter¡¯s icy touch. Bridges of mist and rainbows arched above ebony fortresses wrapped in living vines. Stars flickered faintly behind Summer''s gold and silver sun.


    The monarchs stood unchanged: the glacier-faced elder and the serene youth. It wasn¡¯t a surprise. They didn¡¯t need to change. Their duties might differ, yet their strength came from a shared story.


    I felt the presence of Winter¡¯s former monarch fall on me before I heard him speak. ¡°Some learn not to reach too high.¡±


    He pulled a wooden dove with sapphire eyes out of nowhere, then proffered it towards me. The eyes dimmed. Roland and Yvette gasped, then smiled and relaxed as colour returned to their cheeks.


    ¡°You may keep this trinket,¡± the King of Winter declared as he set the dove on the table before me, ¡°as a gentle reminder of this entertaining diversion.¡±


    I¡¯m not stupid enough to debate that wording.


    ¡°This weapon has no purpose in my hands now,¡± the Queen of Summer said as she set her spear before me, ¡°and so now it is yours.¡±


    I have no idea what I¡¯ll use either of these for.


    ¡°Reach too high?¡± Kairos scoffed as he finished freeing himself from the snow. ¡°No such thing.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± the King of Winter mused with a sigh, ¡°others reach higher still. Don¡¯t they, Kairos Theodosian? Run if you like. Your Court of Chaos will rise, and with it, the tide that drowns you. That tide will wear your name, for it is your blood that shall stain its waters.¡±


    ¡°Run?¡± Kairos gasped. ¡°Perish the thought. Carrying me is what slaves are for.¡±


    ¡°The Tyrant¡¯s yoke is fragile, mortals. The Court Within the Stars offers you freedom from his chains,¡± there was a thunderclap as the King of Winter directed his voice towards the Tyrant¡¯s camp, ¡°Step forward, masterless slaves who would claim their freedom in full.¡±


    The ground rumbled beneath his feet as he spoke, fissures spreading through the frost. Kairos hesitated ¡ª just for a moment ¡ª but I caught it. A flicker of fear flashed in his eyes before arrogance reclaimed his face.


    ¡°Naughty, naughty,¡± the Tyrant tutted, ¡°our agreement prevents this kind of give and take.¡±


    ¡°You misunderstand the intent, Kairos Theodosian,¡± the clouds rumbled as the King of Winter replied. ¡°I may not exact whatever toll pleases me from you or your troops, but those who depart your service are your servants no longer.¡±


    It was a pity that I couldn¡¯t take his life. A pity that he would escape justice this once. That pity was drowned out by the overwhelming satisfaction of having claimed almost every single prize that I wanted.


    ¡°Those who would cast aside the Tyrant¡¯s chain may find sanctuary under the light of our sun,¡± the Queen of Summer¡¯s voice was a clarion call as she declared. ¡°Step within the gates, and their sanctity will shield you. Any who would raise their hand to bar the way will find their lives burned to ash.¡±


    A faint smile tugged at my lips as one slave after another broke from the ranks and trudged towards us. Their faces bore the marks of suffering, but they moved nonetheless. Even the Tyrant¡¯s dais had been abandoned. Not as many as I¡¯d hoped had lived, but better than none. I¡¯d have nothing now but corpses and regret if I¡¯d attacked him when we¡¯d met.


    ¡°Oh, fine!¡± Kairos snarled like a cornered beast. ¡°You may have this fleeting triumph. But mark my words, the stars will mourn your arrogance before the end!¡±


    Now is my best chance to undermine his dying wish. It¡¯ll be hard to get a stronger story.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, Kairos. Run,¡± I emphasized. ¡°And you best wish that no one can bring you back when I kill you. Else I¡¯ll drag your corpse to the foot of the stairs to redemption, find someone to raise you, and haul you up. One. Step. At. A. Time.¡±


    The absurdity of my own threat almost made me laugh. Almost. Redemption for Kairos? That was a joke only the Gods Below could appreciate. I didn¡¯t even want to follow it through. But perhaps it was enough to sow doubt, enough to make him pause in the future before using his death as one final act of chaos. Kairos would find the thought of eternal penance under my watchful eye worse than anything else.


    The Tyrant opened his mouth to retort.


    His words turned into a sputter as a snowball smacked him square in the face.


    The King of Winter is cutting away any weight Kairos has by turning him into a bad joke.


    The corners of my lips twitched.


    Kairos turned and stormed towards his army.


    One ball of snow after another pelted him from behind.


    Was this everything? No. As ugly as it felt, I needed to truly infuriate the villain. He was too dangerous to have him fixated on anyone else. I¡¯d have to rub enough salt in the wound to make this all personal. He had to have a reason to come after me.


    ¡°You wanted applause?¡± I stood, plastered a false grin on my face and clapped mockingly. ¡°Well, here it is.¡±


    I¡¯d feel bad about this if you were anyone else, Kairos.


    My cheeks coloured as somebody cleared their throat.


    ¡°A key that has always existed and will always exist, forged from the flames of Summer, and infused with the memories of Summer''s victories from years long past, was promised,¡± the Queen of Summer declared. ¡°A key is yours to claim.¡±


    The Queen of Summer proffered a key towards me. One that hissed and spat flames. Triumph swelled within me as I seized it gingerly within a barrier.


    ¡°And here is a key that has always existed and will always exist, forged from the deepest frost of Winter, imbued with Winter''s timeless recollections of present defeats,¡± the King of Winter continued.


    The King of Winter proffered another key towards me. An ominous mist slaked off the artefact. That key was placed in another barrier again.


    I turned towards the Prince of Nightfall.


    Another ghost vanished as a key made of Light manifested between my fingers. One that promised of a far off future, of a world that I wished to make.


    A look halfway between anticipation and fear lay beneath his mismatched eyes.


    ¡°Three keys for three freedoms,¡± I announced. ¡°Larat, Prince of Nightfall, I offered you your freedom in exchange for a wish. Here it is. I wish for you to claim these three keys. Shatter the shackles of past victories. Break the chains of present defeats. Free yourself to shape the world to come.¡±


    The Prince of Nightfall smiled as he took each key from the palms of my hand.


    ¡°What a peculiar thing, to hold in one''s grasp after an eternity of chains,¡± he mused.


    ¡°Now,¡± I said, ¡°how about you uphold your side of the bargain?¡±


    ¡°And what of our other diversion?¡± the Prince of Nightfall joked.


    I stiffened. He was joking about the bridal narrative. At least, I assumed he was joking. Still, it was best if I headed it off right away. Actually¡­ maybe I could use this. Use one problem to address the other. It was unlikely he would succeed. And if he did actually succeed, it would be such a monumental win for me that I¡¯d deal with the difficulty then.


    ¡°There is an immortal teller of tales,¡± I exposited. ¡°She¡¯s never died, but she craves it. Convince her to value her life above all else, or guide her to the grave. Fulfil this quest without harming anyone, and I¡¯ll entertain your request.¡±


    A look of fear crossed the Prince of Nightfall¡¯s face.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± Larat insisted, ¡°when did you acquire such a delicate hand at a game shaped by those who walked before your kind first drew breath? It¡¯s an impressive attempt, I¡¯ll grant you.¡±


    ¡°I told you,¡± I replied without missing a beat, ¡°that when all was said and done, I would be good enough.¡±


    The Prince of Nightfall stilled.


    I turned away and smiled.


    I hadn¡¯t done the impossible.


    Not yet.


    But this was damn close to it.

 Elysium 7.12

    ¡°-Every voice will fade;


    Every quill will dry.


    Every song will end;


    Every tale will die.¡±


    ¡ª Excerpt from the Gigantes Song of Mourning.


    <hr>


    Desolation had taken the Twisted Forest.


    Nothing remained of the trees that once craned their branches to snag unwary travellers.


    A barren wasteland extended as far as the eye could see.


    The former slaves trudged into Procer. I¡¯d healed their wounds, but the shadows in their posture remained. Their hunger would have to wait until later. One of them stopped, their yellow eyes locking onto mine.


    ¡°Hero,¡± he said.


    ¡°Taylor,¡± I corrected, offering my hand.


    ¡°Darius,¡± he replied, shaking it.


    Faint white scars extended along the length of his arms.


    ¡°You claim to have freed us,¡± he said. ¡°This freedom, what does it mean?¡±


    ¡°What you do from here is up to you,¡± I explained. ¡°There are no slaves in Procer.¡±


    ¡°Up to us,¡± he snorted. ¡°You expect no service of us?¡±


    I could have tried appealing to my nature. I didn¡¯t. The Tyrant¡¯s former slaves had seen the worst that humanity had to offer. They¡¯d be distrustful. They had every reason to. So I offered him something else, instead.


    ¡°Do you think I need you to?¡± I inquired.


    He stared at me for a few moments before shaking his head.


    ¡°No,¡± he murmured wistfully, ¡°no, you don¡¯t. What does this freedom mean for us?¡±


    ¡°I know that freeing you doesn¡¯t solve everything,¡± I replied. ¡°That it doesn¡¯t undo what happened. That some will never adapt. The House of Light will do what it can to help.¡±


    ¡°That is all we could ask for,¡± he said with a slow nod. ¡°Call, and we will come.¡±


    Warmth blossomed within me as Darius left. I exhaled softly, the tension in my shoulders easing, and a faint smile playing on my lips. One after the other, I watched as the former slaves departed from Arcadia.


    The next fight against the Tyrant would be harder. I didn¡¯t delude myself about that. For one, we wouldn¡¯t have the benefit of being in Arcadia. Even ignoring the looseness of the rules here¡­ I could fight without fearing the damage I caused to my surroundings. The victory was soured by the fact that I couldn¡¯t just teleport into the Tyrant¡¯s bedroom and end his life.


    I¡¯d tried.


    He¡¯d likely wished for something to keep me away. Part of the web in my mind had darkened. Not all of it ¡ª I could still teleport most places ¡ª but I guessed Helike was out of bounds until after I¡¯d dealt with him.


    I¡¯d be hounding him as soon as I¡¯d made certain the House of Light was in order. I didn¡¯t know if Callow would be better off with the Calamities dead. Helike, however, would be better off without a Tyrant. All of Calernia would be.


    A loud pop shattered my reverie.


    Roland and Yvette stood beside a fire burning on an iron plate. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows on their faces. Yvette¡¯s hair caught the light as she twisted a golden strand absently. I grimaced. Food cooked over magic always tasted like the dust in the church archives.


    I looked at the spear in my one hand, then at Yvette. Should I pass it to her to do something with? I didn¡¯t need a spear. I had enough ways to kill someone without it. Besides, magic weapons had a habit of breaking on their wielders at inconvenient times. Should I give it to her to do something with? I bit my lower lip in consideration¡­ No. No, I shouldn¡¯t. I might not plan on using a spear, but that didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t use something else.


    Something more symbolic.


    I ambled over to Pandora, opened one of the pouches on her flank, and withdrew the wooden dove. The spear¡¯s tip slid into the base like it was made for it. The white banner I¡¯d saved from earlier peace talks still held together. With a little work, it could make a proper truce flag.


    A yelp caught my attention.


    A black fox darted off Yvette¡¯s lap and into the wasteland.


    ¡°Where¡¯d it come from?¡± I asked, placing the spear and swan down beside her.


    ¡°Ugh, my dimensional pocket.¡± Yvette yowled like a wet cat. ¡°Now I¡¯ve got to fix it¡ªat least my Name won¡¯t mess with magic any more.¡±


    Her Name had transitioned during the conflict, although there hadn¡¯t been an opportunity to talk about it at the time. The Bumbling Hierophant Bumbled no longer.


    ¡°Don¡¯t want a pet?¡± I asked with suppressed mirth.


    ¡°Not a fox,¡± she protested with a vigorous shake of the head. ¡°Definitely not. They stink. Besides, this one has already tracked mud all over my reagents.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of reagents,¡± I commented, ¡°Anyone know what happened to the Midnight Casket?¡±


    ¡°Not sure,¡± Yvette muttered. ¡°Think the fae picked it up.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly reassuring,¡± I replied.


    Roland uncorked a bottle of wine and took a deep pull, his eyes glinting mischievously before he extended it to me with a flourish. I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head.


    ¡°What happened to that promise of drinking with me once the dust settled?¡± Roland asked.


    ¡°Thought better of it,¡± I muttered, brushing a strand of dark hair behind my ear.


    ¡°I think it would be wise for you to consider once again,¡± Roland said.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I sighed.


    I had told him that I would.


    I took the bottle and took a tentative sip.


    ¡°That¡¯s not wine,¡± I choked out, wiping my mouth and grimacing. ¡°What did you ferment? Regret?¡±


    If I¡¯d dissolved salt into vinegar to the point it started crystallizing and then drank the solution straight, the contents would¡¯ve been less horrid.


    Roland and Yvette both burst into laughter. The traitors.


    ¡°Ah, well,¡± he said between snorts, ¡°it''s a taste that takes time to acquire.¡±


    ¡°You mean that if you drink enough, you can¡¯t taste anything at all?¡± I asked, arching an eyebrow.


    ¡°I dare say there¡¯s a touch of truth to that,¡± he chortled.


    ¡°So,¡± I said, sitting down on a scarred boulder beside them. ¡°Thoughts?¡±


    I passed the bottle back to Roland. He took it, sprinkled a heavy dose of whatever it was over the meat on the fire, then took another deep pull.


    ¡°There are matters¡­ we ought to discuss,¡± he said with a sigh.


    How should I handle this? I needed to be careful. The circumstances had been beyond what we¡¯d expected. Some words had to be said, but¡­ that was less important than reassuring people they¡¯d done well. Because without a doubt they had.


    ¡°I agree,¡± I said, pausing before adding, ¡°But first, I want to acknowledge something. I¡¯m proud of you both. There were ups and downs, sure, but we made it through some harrowing trials. Roland, you handled those negotiations better than anyone could''ve expected.¡±


    Roland smiled and dipped his head.


    ¡°Yvette,¡± I said, voice softening, ¡°You changed the past. You went further than I imagined possible. If you don¡¯t wear that badge, I¡¯ll pin it on you myself. I¡¯m proud of you.¡±


    ¡°You looked more scared than proud at the time,¡± she accused.


    ¡°I¡¯m allowed to be both,¡± I replied.


    Yvette¡¯s dream faded away as I finished. Not broken, completed. I shoved aside the guilt that weighed on me and returned her brilliant smile.


    She shouldn¡¯t have felt the need to earn that to begin with.


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of myself as well,¡± she admitted at long last with a grin, ¡°finally.¡±


    I allowed a moment of quiet jubilation to pass before I pressed onward.


    ¡°I owe you an apology, Roland,¡± I said, meeting his gaze. ¡°How I treated you after the Spire wasn¡¯t right.¡±


    ¡°There is no bruising, Taylor,¡± Roland shrugged.


    ¡°I also owe you an apology, Yvie,¡± I continued. ¡°I asked you to do something knowing it was likely to fail. That wasn¡¯t fair.¡±


    ¡°Why apologize?¡± Yvette bristled. ¡°You gave me the chance to prove I could do it!¡±


    And that¡¯s exactly what I feared you¡¯d think.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have expected you to fail,¡± I said, shaking my head.


    ¡°Alright, fine,¡± Yvette said, biting her lip. ¡°But there¡¯s something I need to say, too.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead,¡± I urged.


    ¡°Now that Constance¡¯s Scar is resolved, I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± she paused. ¡°I want to travel.¡±


    Travel? My mind stalled. I hadn¡¯t seen that coming. My first instinct was to say no, to tell her to stay safe in the Principate. I shoved it down. Yvette rarely asked for anything. This was the first time she¡¯d shown interest in leaving or meeting new people. Saying no would break something I couldn¡¯t fix.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°Where?¡± I asked


    ¡°The Titanomachy. I¡¯ve studied the Titan¡¯s scripts, but it¡¯s not enough,¡± she complained. ¡°I need to learn from the Gigantes since the Titans aren¡¯t around any more.¡±


    Not Praes or the Kingdom of the Dead, at least. But the Titanomachy wasn¡¯t much better. They had a nasty habit of killing Proceran heroes. I doubted they¡¯d make an exception. Still, Yvette cared more about their magic than anything else.


    ¡°Try Levant first,¡± I suggested. ¡°It¡¯s a good starting point.¡±


    ¡°I knew that you¡¯d wait-,¡± her mouth flapped like a fish for a few moments, ¡°you¡¯re not saying no?¡±


    ¡°Offer to help out Cordelia in Levant,¡± I proposed. ¡°Make a good impression there, then ask if they can introduce you down the line.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually a good idea,¡± she admitted grudgingly.


    And it will stop a diplomatic incident in the process.


    ¡°Now, we need to talk about what went wrong in Arcadia,¡± I declared.


    Both of them stiffened.


    ¡°It has to happen,¡± I insisted.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Roland said. ¡°Let us lay our demons to rest.¡±


    ¡°So, Yvette,¡± I reproached her, ¡°I understand you were upset during the negotiation between Sulia and Larat. But that was hardly the time to bring out cake.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t going anywhere anyway,¡± her cheeks coloured while she sputtered, ¡°so why not indulge?¡±


    ¡°It probably wasn¡¯t,¡± I agreed, a wry smile tugging at my lips, ¡°but it certainly wasn¡¯t after you caked it.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± she huffed and pouted. ¡°I¡¯ll admit, maybe I should¡¯ve thought it through more. Perhaps I should¡¯ve waited until after Sulia attacked first.¡±


    I inclined my head toward Roland. His eyes lit up.


    ¡°Snide remarks about Kairos and the fae, while tempting, aren¡¯t exactly prudent,¡± Roland added,


    ¡°Come on!¡± Yvette exclaimed. ¡°They deserved every word I said!¡±


    ¡°Wit is a fine weapon,¡± the Rogue Sorcerer agreed, ¡°but it¡¯s sharpest when wielded with care.¡±


    She met his glare for a few moments before turning my way.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± she grumbled.


    ¡°I think,¡± I evaded, ¡°you could consider your words with more care.¡±


    ¡°Sure, next time I¡¯ll get a signed approval form before back-talking the next monster,¡± she complained sarcastically.


    That wasn¡¯t what we meant, but it wasn¡¯t worth arguing. Now for the bigger issue. If I pushed too hard, it¡¯d cause problems. How to phrase it?


    ¡°I¡¯d also like to ask you,¡± I said carefully, ¡°to ask before you meddle with time in the future.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re not saying no outright?¡± an inquisition¡¯s worth of suspicion bled from her voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m asking for oversight,¡± I clarified.


    I¡¯d never win the argument.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she acceded. ¡°I¡¯ll do it your way.¡±


    ¡°Shall we delve into your conviction that stripping others of their capacity to feel Evil is the answer, then?¡± Roland challenged.


    ¡°I did some thinking,¡± I admitted. ¡°You were right-¡±


    I raised a hand and forestalled Roland from interrupting.


    ¡°-the Taylor you met,¡± I continued, ¡°wouldn¡¯t have considered it. She was grieving, lost, displaced. That doesn¡¯t make her wrong. Or right.¡±


    Roland narrowed his eyes and stiffened.


    ¡°Your thoughts on the matter remain unchanged?¡± he said.


    ¡°Undecided,¡± I murmured. ¡°Still thinking.¡±


    ¡°Hardly anyone would accept the loss of choice as easily as you seem to imply,¡± he asserted.


    ¡°If someone commits murder,¡± I asked, ¡°what would you do to them?¡±


    ¡°They would meet their end at the edge of an executioner¡¯s blade,¡± he replied.


    ¡°Now, you¡¯ve got two dead people,¡± I declared.


    ¡°I fail to see where the issue lies,¡± Roland said, folding his arms.


    ¡°In my solution,¡± I replied, ¡°you have none.¡±


    ¡°Not all deaths end with a corpse,¡± he countered.


    ¡°You¡¯re protecting the right to do awful things,¡± I challenged. ¡°Ask every single one of those slaves if they¡¯d rather live in this world, or in a world where people like Kairos can¡¯t exist at all.¡±


    ¡°And if the people must defend themselves from new tyrants,¡± Roland said, raising an eyebrow, ¡°what then?¡±


    ¡°If everyone¡¯s touched by compassion,¡± I mused, ¡°who would they need to defend against?¡±


    ¡°So, you would suggest a different form of slavery, then?¡± the Rogue Sorcerer challenged.


    ¡°People need to vote for it,¡± I argued. ¡°It¡¯s their decision that matters.¡±


    ¡°They would be wrong to do so,¡± he asserted.


    There was some irony in that claim. He was presuming that he knew what choices other people should make for their own lives better than they did.


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked. ¡°And don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s because you feel that way. I want a real answer.¡±


    Roland hunched his shoulders.


    ¡°Consider this,¡± I pressed, ¡°I came from a society that valued freedom more than yours does.¡±


    ¡°I fail to see how this is relevant to our discussion,¡± Roland protested.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t start thinking this way,¡± I reflected. ¡°My mind changed over time. That should tell you something.¡±


    ¡°Not all changes are for the better,¡± Roland replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m undecided,¡± I admitted. ¡°I have no intention of doing this any time soon. You¡¯ve got plenty of time to change my mind.¡±


    ¡°You set out to do the impossible,¡± he asserted.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I agreed


    ¡°And how long will it be until you exchange dreams for pragmatism?¡± Roland inquired.


    ¡°I trust you to warn me whenever you think I¡¯m going too far in one direction,¡± I replied.


    ¡°And who,¡± Roland muttered, ¡°will temper your will when no equal holds your counsel?¡±


    ¡°I listen to you,¡± I protested.


    ¡°You do,¡± he sighed.


    The crack of a twig ended our discussion. I looked up, stiffening at the sight of mismatched eyes in the shadows.


    ¡°Ah, Taylor,¡± he greeted, his voice smooth as silk. ¡°I come to fulfil our little agreement. Or has the weight of it slipped your memory?¡±


    I glanced at my companions.


    ¡°Coming?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Proceed without us,¡± he gestured lazily while speaking, ¡°some distance will cool the flames of this moment.¡±


    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± I groused.


    Silence fell between us, heavy and deliberate. I swallowed hard. How many souls would he be handing over? A hundred? A thousand? More?


    I didn¡¯t know. I didn¡¯t want to guess.


    The air shifted as space warped around us. I both was and wasn¡¯t surprised. more cooperative since the agreement than I¡¯d expected. Not that I¡¯d complain.


    I glanced away from Larat as we arrived outside a familiar stadium. Walls of blackest night, a roof of transparent ice and rows of plinths all around me from one side to the other. The basin in the centre of the room was empty. Crystal spheres sat atop cushions resting on every plinth, each containing a soul. I didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d spirited any away to keep them. There was no way for me to tell. Either way, I was closing a chapter on the first problem I¡¯d sworn to fix.


    The angels¡¯ silent presence steadied me. I ignored the scene, focusing on the task.


    Exhale.


    Dead. They¡¯re all dead, Taylor.


    A light brighter than the sun erupted in the stadium, shattering every sphere. A single anguished wail echoed before a cemetery of silence reclaimed the space.


    I straightened. The souls were free, their torment ended. It was the right thing. The good thing.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. ¡°Consider our deal upheld.¡±


    ¡°Your words with your companions reached my ears,¡± Larat said. ¡°Naturally, I found them most... illuminating.¡±


    I tensed once again.


    ¡°What of it?¡± I challenged.


    ¡°I felt compelled to share a thought of my own,¡± he continued, his lips curving into a faint smile. ¡°Would you not agree that perspective is the prism of wisdom?¡±


    ¡°Your perspective?¡± I inquired sceptically.


    ¡°These shattered spheres of yours,¡± he mused, gesturing toward the glistening remnants.


    ¡°Your point?¡± I pressed.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± he leaned forward, ¡°did you pause to ask their desires before you passed sentence?¡±


    ¡°They couldn¡¯t choose for themselves.¡± I said, folding my arms.


    ¡°And yet,¡± Larat challenged, ¡°what grants you the right to decide they were unfit to choose?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not real,¡± I protested. ¡°Even if they saw what they wanted.¡±


    ¡°Contentment, is it not?¡± he remarked, with a casual shrug. ¡°They found joy within the stories they told themselves.¡±


    A sliver of unease wormed its way into my thoughts.


    ¡°There is no point,¡± I argued.


    "Oh, I quite agree with your argument,¡± Larat conceded, his eyes lighting up. ¡°But consider this: their lives are without pain, without harm. Could we not call it... perfect? An improvement on your own idea.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t my idea,¡± I bit the words out.


    ¡°Before you extinguish this one,¡± he said, producing a pristine sphere with a theatrical flourish, ¡°why not engage in conversation? I spared it for your enlightenment.¡±


    I examined it.


    This snow globe looked like it contained a woman sitting at a bar. Inside, a woman in a red dress drunk to her heart''s content.


    ¡°Why should I bother?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°There is value,¡± he mocked, ¡°in hearing a soul speak before judgement is meted out.¡±


    Fine, I¡¯d entertain this travesty. The woman would likely want peace the moment she realized her predicament. I reached out as if towards a viper and seized it in my palm. The contents swirled between my fingers. It didn¡¯t take much effort to project a part of me inside.


    The woman turned and looked at me.


    ¡°Welcome, Taylor!¡± she exclaimed, raising a false tankard my way.


    A chill ran down my spine.


    ¡°How do you know my name?¡± I inquired.


    ¡°He told me to expect you,¡± her voice reverberated against illusory wooden walls.


    She¡­ she knew she was dead. She had to. Why was she still here?


    ¡°Do you want peace?¡± I asked softly.


    ¡°No,¡± she denied, letting out a loud burp. ¡°I¡¯m happy here.¡±


    ¡°None of this is real,¡± I explained.


    ¡°Why does that matter if it makes me happy anyhow?¡± she took a sip and challenged.


    ¡°You¡¯re dead,¡± my voice rose, ¡°and you¡¯re fine with it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want this to end, Taylor,¡± she affirmed. ¡°I¡¯m happy where I am already.¡±


    ¡°The Gods wouldn¡¯t want for you to be here,¡± I protested.


    ¡°So?¡± she raised a brown eyebrow. ¡°What if I¡¯m not set for the heavens? There¡¯s no guarantee I¡¯d end up anywhere better than here.¡±


    She trailed a drunken hand towards false merrymakers around her, winked salaciously at a scandalously dressed woman, and pinched an imaginary man on the rear.


    What could I even say to that?


    She wasn¡¯t hurting anyone.


    I didn¡¯t say anything.


    I swallowed and forced the sliver of me back out.


    Why had he allowed me to take their lives, then shown me this? What was the right thing to do? The Angels thought ending their sentence was correct. A part of me still thought that terminating their sentence was correct. Almost every person I spoke to would consider this unambiguously a case of good. But the person in the prison cell?... They thought the opposite.


    And that made me hesitate.


    Was I really like Larat? I wasn¡¯t, was I? He¡¯d taken their souls by force. Voting on being touched by compassion was not the same thing. Removing some options was different to replacing all options with an illusion.


    No, it didn¡¯t matter if they were mind controlled to like it now. An influenced person couldn¡¯t agree to anything because they were compromised. The act of imprisoning her like this was a violation and not comparable to what I was proposing at all. And yet¡­ that didn¡¯t give others the right to end their illusion without asking first, did it?


    ¡°Why?¡± I growled.


    ¡°All lessons worth learning are drenched in blood,¡± Larat quoted.


    I¡¯d heard the phrase before. It was from one Praesi tyrant or another. I didn¡¯t agree with it. My nails dug grooves into my palms. A large part of me urged me to lash out at Larat. To exact vengeance for what he¡¯d done. Except¡­ he hadn¡¯t killed them.


    I had.


    I¡¯d even asked to do it.


    ¡°I won¡¯t forgive you for this,¡± I said through gritted teeth.


    ¡°Ah, but you will,¡± Larat laughed as he left. ¡°Mark my words, Taylor. One day, you will.¡±


    I clutched the crystal ball to my chest as I mulled over his words.


    What was the right thing to do?

 Elysium 7.0x

    ¡°The sea remembers what the survivors forget.¡±


    ¡ª Lessons of the Left.


    <hr>


    The rain pelted the deck in relentless sheets, whipping across the mast and rigging like the lash of a thousand invisible hands would beat at a peasant who spoke out of turn. The sea roiled beneath the Masked Fleet ¡ª named for the faces of past Emperors painted on the bow ¡ª with a fury fit to challenge the very heavens.


    The storm rose swiftly and caught the armada off guard. It arrived with timing so poor it had to have been orchestrated by an enemy plot. There was no worse moment for this weather than when they approached the reef shielding the Ashuran shores.


    A heavy stillness suffused the inside of the cabin. The air kowtowed to the demands of its rightful rulers, standing as a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s Voice of the Court placed delicate porcelain cups on a lacquered tray before her before stepping aside.


    No thoughts of what came before.


    Calm.


    Remain calm.


    In contrast to the howling storm.


    The ship danced to the ocean¡¯s cruel rhythm, and yet her cabin remained a haven of peace. Her gaze lingered on the rich jade of the tea as it swirled in the pot. Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s pale fingers moved gracefully towards the tray. She picked up the prayer sheet beside the pot, consigned it to a candle¡¯s flames, then lifted her cup.


    Zh¨¬ Y¨«n sat opposite her. His hands remained steady as he mirrored her and sipped from his own cup. The warmth from the brew seeped into both of them and cut through the chill of the tempest beyond. His long, dark robes barely stirred as the tempest raged. A tranquillity that was reflected in his sea green eyes.


    Not even the turbulence encroached upon his resolve.


    Even the shadows of his eyes held no hints of what troubles haunted them.


    ¡°Have the waters ever been so restless, do you think?¡± Ti¨¡n F¨³ asked.


    Zh¨¬ Y¨«n¡¯s eyes lingered on the candle as the waves crashed against the flat-bottomed hull.


    He deliberated for a moment on his reply.


    ¡°The silence of the world is its most profound truth; it speaks louder than chaos, if we are wise enough to hear.¡± he murmured. ¡°Perhaps it is simply reminding us that nothing is ever truly ours to control.¡±


    A grimace flickered across Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s face before vanishing beneath the waves. Her gaze lowering to the surface of her tea.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± she whispered. ¡°Control is a fragile thing.¡±


    The words hung in the air. Both spoke around the subject without acknowledging it directly. Both did their best to ignore it. The very mention of their burden might shatter the illusion of safety they maintained. The ship, their fleet, the refugees, their quest. Was this all that remained of their people? Was this to be Yan Tei¡¯s final legacy? Even now, as they fled far from home, there was a fathomless depth to the silence between them that neither dared to break.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³, I charge you with defying the heavens themselves. I failed, but you must not. You are all that remains of our dynasty. See to our vengeance. See that our people are born anew.


    The final words whispered by her dying father returned to her.


    Her fingers tightened around her cup.


    He¡¯d tasked her with defying those who claimed the very heavens as their own.


    An impossible quest.


    A challenge few had dared.


    None had succeeded.


    And yet¡­ their hidden cargo whispered of hope. Her father had struck down one of the Gnomish sky ships before his death. And Zh¨¬ Y¨«n had spirited away what they could claim from the wreckage. Not only that, he¡¯d hidden it from the eyes of the Gnomes.


    The Shrouded Custodian presented them with an opportunity they¡¯d never had before. An opportunity to unravel the secrets of the Gnomes and perhaps exact vengeance for the many atrocities they¡¯d committed. One day, she would see her people returned home. One day, she¡¯d see the Gnomes held to account for every wrong they¡¯d done.


    Zh¨¬ Y¨«n¡¯s gaze lingered on his cup.


    He waited for her to sip at her tea.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³ lifted her cup.


    He mirrored the gesture.


    The steam¡¯s warmth did little to banish the ghost which had been summoned forth into the room.


    ¡°The land ahead,¡± he said, with the smallest shift in tone, ¡°is not without its defenders. The storm may pass, but they will not.¡±


    Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s brows drew together in annoyance for a heartbeat before smoothing into calculated neutrality. She adjusted the cups on the tray while she considered her response.


    ¡°Guardians,¡± she mused. ¡°These people have not faced our fires since the time of Triumphant.¡±


    A sudden knock on the door interrupted the quiet exchange.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³ stiffened, then gestured with one finger. First towards her Voice, then towards the door. It would not do for one beneath her station to hear her spoken words. She¡¯d never hear the end of it on the sixteenth terrace of the Hundred Lotus Court in¡­ a knife cut through her heart. Nothing more than a crater remained where the Court had once stood in Sing Du. No more spring dances, no moonlit trysts on coastal ships.


    Duty to my family and my people are all that is left.


    As the eighth child, Ti¨¡n F¨³ had never expected for this kind of responsibility to one day rest upon her shoulders. She¡¯d nonetheless learned the lessons her tutors had imparted upon her, only to then drift through the world as listlessly as a leaf caught in a gale. She¡¯d traded barbs and secrets like all her other siblings, but there¡¯d never been any real steel to any of it when she¡¯d had nothing to gain. Now she found herself thrust into a role that she¡¯d never been meant to fill.


    L¨¢n Y¨©ng slid forwards and peered through the window atop the entrance.


    ¡°It is Zh¨¤n Zh¨¬, honourable princess,¡± she signed.


    ¡°He may enter,¡± she answered L¨¢n Y¨©ng in turn.


    L¨¢n Y¨©ng unbolted the door.


    A tall, wiry man entered with hurried steps a moment later. His cloak was drenched from head to toe. Constant vigilance hinted beneath his tired grey eyes. Eyes that remained averted from her as he glanced briefly at the interior before giving a deep bow.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³ gestured towards L¨¢n Y¨©ng.


    ¡°Rise,¡± the woman ordered.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been sighted, honourable princess,¡± Zh¨¤n Zh¨¬ rattled out. ¡°A signal fire burns, and their ships are already on the move.¡±


    Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s fingers tightened around her cup until her knuckles turned white. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Even this much of a lapse in her mask would¡¯ve earned her ridicule from her sisters back home. Composure had been a mountain to maintain ever since the¡­


    Pools of molten rock, ash, clouds of noxious gas. Groves drowning in a sea of green fire. Another anguished scream. The taste of burning meat thick in the air. The corpse of her sister. Half her face eaten by acid, the other half a mess of welts. Dead. Dead. Dead. Everywhere she looked. They were all dead.


    She bit her tongue and signed her handmaiden.


    May the Guardians not judge me unworthy for my lapse in thoughts.


    Not that any of their warrior priests could call upon the Guardians.


    Their presence had vanished ever since their fleet had crossed the open waters.


    ¡°How many?¡± L¨¢n Y¨©ng interpreted her next words.


    ¡°Five, honourable princess,¡± Zh¨¤n Zh¨¬ replied, eyes not meeting her own. ¡°More are gathering.¡±


    Her fingers relaxed.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Not many. The shattered remnants of the Masked Fleet numbered just over a hundred warships. Sailing the open waters with this many ships always posed risks. It always attracted predators. This journey had been worse than any which had come before. It was as if every enemy that Yan Tei had ever made had hounded them during their flight. Even once they¡¯d escaped to the ocean¡­ many of their smaller vessels had faltered under the assault of sea leviathans. Many had sunk beneath the waves. Few of the ships had survived with their warding schemes entirely intact.


    Fortunately, their fleets were not without teeth of their own. More than just harpoons and crossbows. They¡¯d brought over two hundred Spirit Bearers and their scrolls with them during their flight. They were well-prepared for a fight. Only¡­ it was never wise to unleash spirits on open waters on damaged ship.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³ dismissed thoughts of diplomacy. The natives were little more than savages, and even now posed little threat to their diminished fleet. It also mattered little when the numbers were skewed so far in their favour.


    ¡°Then we strike,¡± L¨¢n Y¨©ng spoke in her stead.


    A flicker of something hinted in Zh¨¤n Zh¨¬¡¯s eyes before vanishing without a trace.


    The storm¡¯s fury seemed to swell in the distance. Ti¨¡n F¨³ rose, her robes billowing as she turned toward the open door. She stared past Whispers of the Moon¡¯s triple sails.


    She looked far.


    Farther.


    Even farther still.


    There, in the distance. Ti¨¡n F¨³ glimpsed the distant silhouettes of five ships emerging from the mist. Their sails had been torn free by the gale, and yet they journeyed onwards. Closer. Their movements were surely driven solely by the spite of Ashuran sorcery alone.


    She turned back to Zh¨¤n Zh¨¬ without a word. He was already stepping toward the door.


    A white light soared into the air above the ship.


    Peace, they wanted to negotiate.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³ hesitated as the words of her now dead tutors cautioned her.


    Was it wise to spurn peace?


    It would take the full manpower of at least a continent to bring vengeance to those who had claimed the heavens. A people that would not serve her by choice. Both her head and her heart were in accord. The people of Calernia had been the ones to usher in this Age of Chaos. Let them be the ones to carry the cost of their own folly.


    Her teacher¡¯s caution had not saved the Court.


    Why would their wisdom fare any better here?


    ¡°Prepare the fleet,¡± L¨¢n Y¨©ng issued her command.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s gaze lingered on the distant ships for a moment longer. The natives. Her lips curled in distaste. The ones to blame for this disaster. Her brothers and sisters would¡¯ve suggested diplomacy. Ti¨¡n F¨³ had once been just as soft.


    That innocence had died with them under the fire of the heavens. Now, she held no such reservations. Diplomacy had failed them against the Gnomes. And now, parley gave way to the inevitability of war. Every moment that passed was another where their theft might be caught. There was no telling for how long Zh¨¬ Y¨«n could Hold the sky ship before its location was discovered.


    The last of her prayers had been burned.


    There was no shore to return to.


    No place to call home.


    The first clash ended abruptly.


    ¡°Let them come,¡± she whispered to herself softly. ¡°The rain will pass. But we will remain.¡±


    Bolts hurtled towards the sailors aboard the Ashuran ships. A gust of unnatural wind saw the galleons cut starboard, narrowly evading the projectiles of over a hundred ships. Ti¨¡n F¨³ furrowed her brow. The sailors moved with uncanny precision, forcing her to reconsider their abilities. She plucked a weed from her garden of thoughts and cast it aside. Numbers would see them through. Another truce marker launched into the air. Loud, insistent. Ti¨¡n F¨³ signed a second denial when Zh¨¤n Zh¨¬ asked for her orders.


    Negotiations always weakened any conflict that followed.


    Sailors ducked behind railings as the second volley hurtled between ships. The ocean rumbled as a band of Ashuran sorcerers twisted the current violently. Two of Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s ships almost crashed into each other, only for the Spirit Sage to reach out and disperse the native sorceries. Then, the enemy fleet sailed into range of more direct attacks. Fires erupted on the deck of the first ship as clay globes marked with detonation runes and filled with oil were lobbed across the water.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the first of the enemy ships took a breach in the hull.


    The wind howled as enemy sorcerers painted the skies with their magics once more. Enormous waves crashed against the Masked Fleet, rocking ships from side to side.


    Crash!


    Calamity struck.


    Light streaked across the open ocean and struck against the already vulnerable warding array shielding the one of the Spirit Binder¡¯s vessels. Vital segments of the protections unravelled in the wrong way. Protective enchantments thrummed. Another monstrous wave raced towards the vessel and tipped it into the water.


    The chiming of a warning bell cut through the howling of the wind.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³ stiffened.


    One of the bindings faltered.


    A cut streaked down Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s face as rain pelted her. She pulled back fast into the relative safety of her cabin and watched as chaos unfolded.


    Water was water, and yet it sliced through skin like the edge of an obsidian blade. The sound of wood grating against cutting water echoed throughout the battlefield as a Spirit of Order laid its influence upon the surface of the waves. Soldiers on the distant ship stiffened as blood in their bodies shredded them under the hostile effect. The ocean bubbled violently as the current pulled new water into the Spirit¡¯s domain.


    ¡°The river moves, the heavens turn; so too must you!¡± the Spirit Sage chanted, palm outstretched. ¡°Return to this scroll, your chapter complete. Bind.¡±


    The ocean lurched once again.


    The effect dissipated.


    Another cry echoed through the squall as a ship struck against the reef.


    The cries of splintering wood and roaring waves merged into a chaotic symphony as the battlefield unfolded. Ti¨¡n F¨³ steadied herself against the cabin¡¯s lacquered frame. Her heart thundered as the Spirit Sage¡¯s chants echoed again. Had another of the Spirits been loosed?


    No.


    The waves calmed as he wrested authority over the seas from the enemy wizards.


    Good, Ti¨¡n F¨³ thought.


    The beat of her heart slowed as the final Ashuran warship started to take water. It was done. The conflict had ended in their favour. Her breath caught. Another sound emerged from the mist. A low, rhythmic drumming, carried by the wind. Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s eyes narrowed as she searched for the source.


    They appeared.


    At least another two dozen more enemy ships emerged from the storm¡¯s veil. They sliced a path through the waves like spirits of vengeance summoned by the ocean itself. Their sails shimmered in the tempest, glowing faintly as runes etched into the fabric caught flashes of lightning. Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line.


    ¡°More of them,¡± Zh¨¤n Zh¨¬ reported, bursting into the cabin, rainwater streaming from his armour. ¡°They¡¯re summoning down hail from the sky.¡±


    A sharp crack split the air as lightning leapt from the clouds, striking the mast of one of Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s ships. The protective wards flared, but held. The glow of their magic didn¡¯t even dull under the relentless assault. Another group of Ashuran sorcerers raised their hands and chanted together, twisting the winds to their will. The rain thickened, becoming a torrential downpour that blinded the sailors and masked the enemy¡¯s movements.


    ¡°Reinforce the defences,¡± Ti¨¡n F¨³ ordered through her Voice. ¡°And ensure the Spirit Sage is not interrupted while he works.¡±


    The Yuan Ti ships sailed with mechanical precision under the captain¡¯s command. Defensive spells flared to life as talismans were activated along the decks. A dome of shimmering energy blazed into being around the nearest Masked Ship, deflecting the next wave summoned forth by the enemy sorcerers. The sailors shouted in unison as they loaded their repeating crossbows with enchanted bolts.


    On the enemy side, the Ashurans worked as one, their actions more fluid than rehearsed. The storm roared in time with the drumbeats. The crests of waves rose higher with the magics woven into them. The sea itself had been turned into a weapon.


    Another Spirit Binder vessel found itself under siege.


    ¡°Hold formation!¡± the muffled voice of the fleet admiral roared.


    Then came the fire.


    The Ashuran fleet had weapons of their own.


    Clay orbs arced through the air and struck against the rain-soaked deck of a Masked ship. Flames ignited and licked across the surface. Another found its mark near the rear of a Spirit Binder¡¯s vessel. Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s lips pressed in a line. Another threat to the scroll storage. A detachment of sailors rushed forward and smothered the flames before they could reach the ship¡¯s most precious cargo.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³¡¯s mind raced as she assessed the battlefield. Should they stay? Should they leave? Her thoughts returned to the many horrors she¡¯d witnessed. They returned to the oath that she¡¯d given.


    ¡°Your Highness,¡± Zh¨¤n Zh¨¬ urged, his expression grim. ¡°The fleet cannot hold in these conditions. Not with the storm against us. Not with the damage to our wards and the nearby reef.¡±


    Her sharp eyes flicked between him and the battlefield. Another ship was struck by a bolt of condensed lightning as its wards collapsed. The vessel erupted in a cascade of splinters and screams before capsizing beneath a wave.


    She clenched her jaw. Every instinct screamed against retreat. She¡¯d run when the skies had first darkened. She¡¯d run when her brothers and sisters had remained to fight. Would she really flee again? Ti¨¡n F¨³ knew that victory was within her reach. That even know the Ashurans could be made to bow. But was victory worth the cost?


    No.


    Not when the Masked Fleet was all that remained of her home.


    They could¡­ they could sail to the north and west. The lands of Levant were home to savages not known for any talents with navel sorcery. This trouble would¡¯ve never arisen were their fleet in good repair. Had their situation been less dire, then the Spirit Binder¡¯s full arsenal could¡¯ve been deployed against the enemy fleet. Spirits unleashed at sea on ships with damaged warding schemes marked an early journey to the flower gardens.


    Once they reached dry land, their Spirits could be called upon once more.


    A distraught princess sobbed behind the regal mask that she dared not cast aside.


    Survival of their people came first and foremost.


    Vengeance came second.


    All else could wait until those troubles had been laid to rest.


    ¡°The fleet withdraws,¡± Ti¨¡n F¨³ signed swiftly to her Voice.


    Zh¨¤n Zh¨¬ bowed and turned on his heel, barking orders to the fleet. Lantern signals flashed in the storm¡¯s gloom, the coded lights cutting through the chaos. Slowly, the damaged remnants of their fleet began to disengage. Defensive spells flared brighter as they absorbed parting blows.


    Ti¨¡n F¨³ lingered at the cabin door and observed as the remnants of her people withdrew. The Ashuran navy did not pursue, content to hold their position as the storm continued to rage. She memorized the rhythm of their drums, the choreography of their sorcery.


    A day would come when she would hold the sky to account.


    For now, she would ensure her people survived to swing the gavel.

 Interregnum 8.00

    ¡°There is nothing sweeter than the poison we drink willingly.¡±


    ¡ª Praesi Saying.


    <hr>


    This is truly pathetic, the voice taunted.


    I ignored it. Barely.


    Golden eyes lit with sly amusement met mine as Akua turned to smile, her fingers trailing idly along the edge of her dress. My gaze darted away for the twentieth time, and I scowled. She knew exactly what she was doing, the damn tease. The stunning red dress she wore emphasized every curve that I didn¡¯t have. It had to be against at least one law. And I¡¯d be adding a new law the moment I took over if it wasn¡¯t.


    No, I wasn¡¯t jealous. Not one bit.


    That I wore a matching dress did nothing for my mood. I¡¯d look good anywhere else. Next to her? I was little more than a convenient mirror to make her shine brighter.


    I reminded myself ¡ª not for the first time ¡ª that I planned to plant a knife in her back the moment it suited me. Climb the Tower, kill the Empress, and claim a side dish of dead Heiress before taking the throne. Of course, she was plotting the same for me. I didn¡¯t doubt that for a moment. The silk gloves and delicate smiles didn¡¯t change that. But at least the knives were visible with her if I looked closely.


    Unlike the Black Knight.


    He would¡¯ve killed me outright. I doubted he¡¯d keep a traitorous apprentice around. That, or I¡¯d have grown complacent around him. Akua? She was a walking lesson in paranoia, a reminder that trust was a fool¡¯s currency. She expected treachery from me. Encouraged it, even. She was a shining example of every Praesi virtue.


    ¡°Prepared, I trust, Catherine?¡± Akua inquired in a tone that sent a shiver down my spine as we strolled down a wide ¡ª and strangely deserted ¡ª avenue.


    The dark cloud overhead shifted, briefly revealing the Tower. A hulking spire of black stone clawing at the sky like a hungry beast. One that defied all reason. Stories didn¡¯t do it justice; you had to stand at its feet to grasp its sheer scale. The entire Blessed Isle ruins could¡¯ve fit inside its walls, and it was so tall that its peak disappeared into the haze.


    ¡°Enough to make it through the evening,¡± I muttered. ¡°Does that suffice?¡±


    It still boggled my mind that the empire would fall apart without its nobles stabbing each other in the back. The Tower was merely another monument to their dysfunction. Poisoned food and wine were just the appetizers of its politics. Those who didn¡¯t bring antidotes made a fool of themselves. I¡¯d already planned to cleanse anything I ate with my Name.


    ¡°Confident, are we?¡± she teased, a sly smile tugging at her lips. ¡°At least we¡¯re sparing the gate your¡­ colourful repartee.¡±


    Only official summons granted entry through the front gates. This was to be my unofficial introduction to the court at the Tower. Heiress would¡¯ve preferred more time for me to ¡°absorb civilized culture,¡± but circumstances had forced her hand.


    ¡°Nobody¡¯s stupid enough to trade barbs with a demon,¡± I complained.


    ¡°After the memorable affair in Okoro¡­¡± she mused.


    ¡°Once is hardly a pattern,¡± I excused.


    ¡°Then consider the complications in Nok,¡± she teased.


    ¡°Hardly my fault he couldn¡¯t handle his drink,¡± I defended.


    It didn¡¯t take me long to realize I could get away with exacting a spot of vengeance on nobility here, so long as I played it right. The trick was to frame the deaths as an unfortunate political necessity. Poison was approved of, though I failed to understand the appeal. Knifing someone in a back alley was apparently uncouth, but poisoning their wine at a dinner party? Why, that was practically high art.


    ¡°You poisoned him,¡± Akua drawled, ¡°Despite my warnings, of course.¡±


    ¡°The Squire, then,¡± I deflected as my cheeks warmed. ¡°Let¡¯s start there.¡±


    Akua allowed my evasion with an amused smile.


    The Black Knight had taken on a Squire, a Callowan boy named William of Greenbury. His sister perished in the flames set on a farm during a strike by the rebellion. He¡¯d tried for vengeance and nearly died for it, only to be saved by the Black Knight at the last moment.


    ¡°It would have been preferable to wait before presenting you to the Court,¡± she affected care.


    Heiress wanted me as her Black Knight. She claimed that made this Squire my rival. She loved to preach about how our iron only grew sharper by cutting it against those fate had so graciously lined up for us to crush, as if she were handing out life advice instead of plotting murder. For now, I¡¯d play the part. Later, I¡¯d decide whose throat to cut first.


    ¡°Patience is a luxury we can¡¯t afford right now,¡± I agreed.


    ¡°Acquainting yourself with your rival is vital,¡± her eyes lingered on me as she spoke. ¡°It should not be overly challenging; he is yet unpolished in the ways of Praes.¡±


    I squashed the warmth the words evoked under the heel of my shoes. They were spoken in a tone that I¡¯d come to realize meant genuine praise. No surprises, the monster was approving whenever I became more monstrous.


    ¡°Right,¡± I acknowledged. ¡°Blend in, listen, and keep out of trouble.¡±


    We climbed the stairs in silence. The steps ¡ª carved into the likeness of weeping men and women ¡ª pressed a steady rhythm into my back as we ascended. Charming. Was there a specific branch of architecture for Evil? Because this was a strong argument for it.


    Twin rows of steel-clad soldiers in black iron masks flanked the staircase. The silent march of their presence alone was sufficient to make anyone feel insignificant. A fitting reminder for the madmen who passed through these halls.


    At least I knew what I was doing when I climbed my Tower, the Voice mused.


    When you climbed the¡ªwait, what? I thought back.


    The voice didn¡¯t answer. Typical.


    Heiress led me to a side passage near the gates, the sound of our heels echoing against smooth obsidian walls. Runes and symbols thrummed with latent sorcery. The air thrummed with energy, an almost imperceptible vibration that raised the hairs on my arms. I shivered despite myself, grateful we weren¡¯t entering through that demonic gate.


    The antechamber led into a high-ceilinged room of cold black stone, barren of tapestries or warmth. The mosaics on the walls ¡ª an unsettling weave of reds and greys ¡ª drew the eye despite the gut-deep instinct to look away. I knew better than to look. The gibberish that would pour out of my mouth afterwards was a humiliation I had no intent of enduring. Two sets of spiralling stairs rose to the first level, their railings sculpted into snake tails so lifelike that I half-expected them to writhe. I kept my hands to myself.


    Akua paused at the top of the staircase and spoke, ¡°sharpen your resolve, Catherine.¡±


    Resolve. Right. I¡¯d confided in Akua about my struggles to control the shadows clawing at my mind¡¯s edges. She¡¯d suggested with the usual flavour of Praesi Evil that fulfilling my Role would help. As if giving in to mass murder or megalomania was an eminently reasonable solution to my woes. I¡¯d decided to accept what I could. Leaning into the parts of villainy I could stomach without wanting to claw my own skin off.


    You¡¯ll justify liking all of it before you reach the top, the words intruded on my thoughts.


    ¡°I do,¡± I ignored the voice as I replied.


    We stepped through an archway into the aptly named Hall of Screams. The place where people ended up when they tried for the Tower and failed. The air reeked of blood and rot. Rows of human heads were strung up on silk ropes to either side. They swayed gently like gruesome wind chimes, before turning as one to face us.


    The moaning started.


    A chorus of agony sang in over a dozen different languages I couldn¡¯t name.


    My breath hitched. My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my palms.


    This is what I chose. I¡¯ve seen and done worse. I can live with this.


    The voice in my heard laughed at my lie.


    We stepped foot on the second floor. Carved from the same unyielding stone, the space sprawled open with no real walls, just sculpted archways leading to oversized circular balconies. Masked guards in eerie silence stood between them like statues. The only sound was the faint echo of our footsteps against stone.


    Akua led us to a balcony adorned with the number twenty-four in Miezen numerals. She whistled a sharp, commanding note as we approached. A shadow fell over the balcony as a monstrous, grey-skinned creature with bat-like wings descended. Its hissing revealed jagged, blood crusted teeth. I swallowed.


    ¡°I expected something more¡­ impressive,¡± the words slipped out of my mouth.


    ¡°In Aksum, they come much larger,¡± she suggested.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll pass,¡± I said dryly.


    ¡°Best to steer clear of the head,¡± she advised, ¡°they have a penchant for snapping.¡±


    I stepped back quickly, not trusting her casual tone. She offered her hand as she climbed onto the beast. I hesitated before clasping it, her touch as infuriatingly steady as her gaze.


    Leather handles bolted into the saddle offered the illusion of safety as Akua gave the order and the creature leapt. I clenched the handles. Shadows whispered in my ears as I bit down a scream that would have delighted the Tower¡¯s residents. The wings snapped open, catching the wind, and we climbed steadily. My stomach still hadn¡¯t caught up when we landed. I exhaled as solid ground welcomed us like an old friend.


    The balcony we disembarked onto was as ostentatious as everything else in this damned place¡ªgilded, jewelled, and suffocatingly rich. Catherine of the past would¡¯ve called it gaudy. It barely registered after five months in Wolof. Golden hooks jutted from the walls for coats we didn¡¯t have. I flexed my fingers, burying the wince at the ache from gripping the saddle beneath a mask.


    The creature hissed at me again. I glared back.


    Go ahead and try me.


    My first thought upon stepping into the chamber was that there was no way this absurd space actually fit inside the Tower. It was excessive in every way. The ceiling soared like it wanted to touch the heavens. Black marble was back in full force, with an extra helping of ostentatious red, green, and gold drapery. Subtlety had clearly been dragged out behind the Tower and put out of its misery along with all the other peasants that had died building this monument to hubris. The floor was a massive mosaic featuring a chaotic tangle of scenes that practically screamed, ¡°Look at me! I¡¯m historically significant!¡± A stylized siege of Ater unfolded beneath my boots. I¡¯d guess it was the First Crusade, but I wasn¡¯t entirely certain.


    However, my attention didn¡¯t linger on the d¨¦cor.


    The gallery teemed with hundreds of people, all engaging with each other in quiet conversation. I¡¯d grown used to Praesi nobility after five months in Wolof, but they still looked magnificent in their element. Silk and brocade, velour and velvet in every gaudy shade under the storm clouds. Hairstyles so elaborate they could double as siege engines. Arcane patterns shaved into scalps, emeralds braided into hair, and more than one outfit that should¡¯ve been declared a crime against good taste. Taghreb, Soninke, human, orc¡ªall here to preen and sneer. No goblins, though. Not that I could see, anyway. They might have been hiding behind someone¡¯s robes.


    Akua swept ahead, serene and imperious, a queen among lesser mortals. I schooled my expression into neutrality, the only safe mask in a room like this. A strange melody lilted quietly in the background.


    ¡°Lady Akua, Lady Catherine,¡± Fasili greeted with a shallow dip of the head. ¡°Gods turn a blind eye to your schemes.¡±


    Ah, Fasili. His voice practically dripped with the kind of affected warmth that made me want to scrub my ears after hearing it. He stood beside Hawulti Sahel. I¡¯d met both of them before in Wolof. They were apparently our allies. Both of them shining examples of everything I hated about Praes. I tucked away the hint of hesitation in his voice for later. It might not matter tonight, but I¡¯d enjoy thinking of it when I one day slit his throat.


    ¡°Lord Fasili, Lady Hawalti,¡± I greeted them with false cheer. ¡°May blood never whet your blade.¡±


    The glimmer of anger that flashed across Fasili¡¯s handsome face was worth the effort. A lovely thing, veiled insults. I¡¯d learned them from Heiress. The suggestion that he wasn¡¯t worthy of facing real opponents since Aksum¡¯s loss to Malicia must¡¯ve stung. It was meant to.


    You only did that because it made Akua smile, the words invaded my thoughts.


    ¡°Lord Fasili,¡± Akua interrupted, ¡°how proceeds matters at court?¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    I allowed the conversation wash over me and contributed only when addressed. My responses were the sort of vapid platitudes that were common within these walls. Meanwhile, I kept an ear out for anything of use.


    The lull in conversation was sudden, a palpable shift in the air as the music dwindled away.


    I turned, and fury coiled hot in my gut. A green-eyed familiar figure in black armour marched toward the throne. The Black Knight. A boy trailed behind him. Dark-haired, green-eyed, maybe fifteen summers old. He wore the sort of brooding expression that belonged on the cover of the books I¡¯d caught Abigail reading. A pang of worry struck me. She¡¯d had to stay behind in Wolof.


    The boy looked utterly lost in the court. Like a child playing dress-up in armour. The anger burned brighter. Stupid, irrational anger. I¡¯d considered trying to apprentice under the Black Knight once. I¡¯d thought it might be my way forward. Then I¡¯d decided it wasn¡¯t worth the cost. And now here was this fool, walking in and siding with the man who¡¯d broken Callow.


    A touch on my arm pulled me from the spiral. Akua¡¯s fingers lingered a fraction too long, sending a shiver up my spine. Her nod toward the boy was subtle, but the message was clear. I mirrored the gesture with a smile that was all teeth. It was time for me to become acquainted with my ¡°rival.¡±


    He could be trying to do the same thing as you, my mental partner explained.


    The flames of anger sputtered but refused to die completely. The voice had a point, which only irritated me further. There was nothing more grating than when I agreed with the voice in my head, since half the time it advocated for heroism.


    Maybe the boy wasn¡¯t an enemy. Perhaps his path only looked like a betrayal because it mirrored my own. But that was a problem for another time. I¡¯d play Akua¡¯s game for now. I¡¯d decide whether he was a traitor or not when we met again in quieter circumstances.


    The path cleared ahead, revealing the throne¡ªand her.


    I spared the legendary chair little more than a glance.


    My attention was drawn to the woman seated upon it.


    Dread Empress Malicia.


    I¡¯d seen beautiful women before, but compared to her, they might as well have been pigs. She was more than beautiful; she was alive. Radiant, commanding, impossible to ignore. She wore her power like a second skin, her silk dress of green and gold flowing like water over her figure. Even the sharpness of her Soninke features was rendered irrelevant by the sheer force of her presence.


    She rose with the easy grace of a predator.


    ¡°All kneel for Her Most Dreadful Majesty Malicia, First of Her Name, Tyrant of Dominions High and Low, Holder of the Nine Gates, Sovereign of All She Beholds,¡± a harsh voice rang out.


    I wanted to spit.


    Instead, I bent at the knee along with everyone else.


    For now.


    You¡¯ll never get a better chance to kill her than this, the voice suggested.


    How many other people thought that? I argued with the poor idea.


    The illusion of safety is an illusion, it protested.


    I¡¯d just die in the process, I challenged.


    Better than becoming a monster, it countered.


    ¡°We,¡± The Black Knight¡¯s voice cut through my internal argument, ¡°do not kneel.¡±


    His quiet words carried like the dying of a pig in the hush of the room. Heavy with meaning, a claim, a challenge. He wasn¡¯t bound by the law¡ªhe was the law. There he and William stood, clad in steel and black like a pair of crows perched on the edge of a feast, surrounded by preening peacocks in silks and gold. The only ones still on their feet while the rest of us played ths stupid game of submission.


    A sharp and familiar resentment clawed its way up my throat. A press of the boot. Another chain to pull me to the ground. I bit down hard on my lip, my glare slicing across the room like a dagger aimed for no one and everyone at once.


    They¡¯re not the ones with a boot on your neck any more. You are.


    Dread Empress Malicia¡¯s smile was a thing of silk and poison as she sashayed toward the two of them.


    I swallowed down the bitterness with a promise.


    One day I¡¯ll see you all dead.


    One day.


    ¡°Welcome home, Amadeus,¡± the Empress said. ¡°I see you brought along your Squire.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good to be home, Malicia,¡± the monster replied mildly. ¡°If I may introduce William, formerly of Greenbury.¡±


    The boy¡¯s face flickered with confusion before he realized they were talking about him. My lips twitched in mirth.


    ¡°My dear Knight has long been delaying the taking of an apprentice,¡± she mused. ¡°I look forward to finding out how you changed his mind. I must confess I have great hopes for you, Squire.¡±


    Her smile could have lit a battlefield. I suspected it might¡¯ve once or twice, if only to watch the carnage. She turned that same devastating expression on the rest of us.


    ¡°We all have great hopes for you,¡± the Dread Empress asserted.


    We rearranged our faces into polite agreement, like marionettes tied to the same strings.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do everything I can to live up to them, Your Majesty,¡± the red cheeked boy croaked earnestly.


    ¡°How is the Empire, Black Knight?¡± the Empress asked, her voice carrying like a songbird in the cavernous chamber.


    ¡°Quiet,¡± the green-eyed monster replied, flashing the kind of grin that made me want to wash my hands. ¡°But eager for another reminder.¡±


    ¡°And the provinces?¡± she inquired.


    Provinces. My face settled into something appropriately neutral, hiding the bile rising in my throat. Provinces. That was Callow to them. Nothing more than a rough, uncivilized backwater meant for stripping bare. And the worst part? They weren¡¯t entirely wrong. I¡¯d walked the streets of Wolof. I¡¯d seen its grandeur. Even at our best during the rebellion, Laure and Summerholm looked like a child¡¯s sketch of a city in comparison.


    ¡°Settled,¡± the Black Knight continued. ¡°For now.¡±


    Malicia cast a soulful look at the nobles.


    ¡°After the threat of gnomish intervention¡­¡± the Tyrant of the Tower trailed off with false sincerity. ¡°I do hate ending old bloodlines.¡±


    I stilled.


    Gnomish intervention. Because of course. As if dabbling with apocalyptic consequences were a pastime for them. Did they think they¡¯d tinker their way into invincibility before the Gnomes turned the entire empire to ash? I¡¯d read what I could on Procer¡¯s little disaster. I¡¯d read about an entire city blotted out as casually as swatting a fly. Insanity. Or maybe arrogance. They tended to mix the two around here until it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.


    ¡°It is,¡± the Empress spoke with genteel regret, ¡°a great shame that the High Lady of Foramen forced our hand in such a way again.¡±


    She played the picture of a grieving young woman, but her words coiled like a whip.


    Black turned to face the gathering, and his expression held no such pretence. The thing I¡¯d fought outside Summerholm looked out at them through his luminous green eyes, grinning with too many teeth.


    ¡°That is ever the way, with those who overreach,¡± he said, his tone almost pleasant. ¡°It should be remembered that unsightly ambition so often lead to an unsightly end.¡±


    He raised a single nail, tapping it against his palm with deliberate slowness. The room fell still, breaths caught somewhere between fear and anticipation. A single gesture was all it took to remind them that High Lady Amina had been left to rot on a cross.


    Look at them all squirm. How many of these vultures are rehearsing the same insincere regret for you, I wonder?


    The realization hit me like a punch. None of this was spontaneous. The easy exchange between the Black Knight and Malicia was choreographed. Not rehearsed, exactly¡ªit was too fluid for that¡ªbut practised nonetheless. They¡¯d been performing this duet for so long that it had become instinctive.


    So this is how it works.


    Malicia¡¯s was the diplomat. The voice of reason. The one who respected the old families and their so-called ¡°contributions.¡± And standing beside her was the monster. He was the reminder that the Empire¡¯s aristocracy would be nothing more than decorative stains in the Hall of Screams without her. Her hand brushed his arm lightly. Hundreds of stares followed the deliberate motion. We all read the message nestled within: Look at my monster. Isn¡¯t he dangerous? And aren¡¯t you lucky that I¡¯m the one holding the leash?


    ¡°Now that the inevitable politics are out of the way,¡± Malicia said with hollow cheerfulness, ¡°we can get back to the part of the evening you¡¯re all actually here for.¡±


    Polite and obligatory laughter rippled through the room. I forced a smile, though I wasn¡¯t entirely sure what I was supposed to be amused by. Malicia clapped her hands, and the music swelled to life once more. The court dissolved into cliques as nobles and their sycophants weaved through the chamber like hungry rats. The smell of something sweet and cloying filled the air as servants emerged with trays of wine.


    Malicia¡¯s parting smile was one of practised warmth as she drifted away into the throng. It was impressive how she managed to seem approachable without ever being truly accessible. A lesson in appearing human while keeping the knives tucked firmly behind her back.


    Are you watching closely, Catherine? This is what Evil winning looks like. A constant game of knives in a Tower where everyone wants you dead.


    I ignored the voice and wandered to one of the refreshment tables. It took only a few moments before I selected an Arlesite red¡ªa bold, acidic vintage that matched the mood of the evening. I let the liquid roll over my tongue for a moment before burning the poison away. It didn¡¯t take long to spot Akua, her entourage of vultures forming an elegant circle. Our minions, I corrected, teeth gritting at the thought. My steps carried me back toward them, though not without a glance at William.


    The Squire stood in the centre of the court, looking like a lost lamb in a den of wolves. He exchanged a few awkward words with a woman with ink-stained hands, only for her to disappear moments later. He shuffled toward an orc girl beside another table. The Squire¡¯s gaze lingered on her distrustfully for a few moments, before he squared his shoulders and whispering something under his breath.


    ¡°-taking care of my sisters up north,¡± the orc said, ¡°so I got stuck doing it.¡±


    I let my feet carry me closer as the orc skewered a cutlet with efficient brutality and loaded it onto her plate. I mirrored the action with a deliberate calm, allowing the tension to ripple.


    ¡°Should I even ask if those are safe?¡± William asked the orc.


    Safe? The question almost made me laugh. He didn¡¯t know how to burn poison with his Name?


    ¡°Completely,¡± I lied, looking up and meeting his gaze.


    The long tusked green skin snorted, her tone dry as ash.


    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her,¡± she advised. ¡°They¡¯re poisoned. Should¡¯ve planned this one better, Squire.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an unusual sight for a place like this,¡± I said.


    ¡°It feels as if everyone wants me to die,¡± the Squire muttered under his breath.


    ¡°Smile, nod, and pretend you care,¡± I advised. ¡°It¡¯s the safest way to survive.¡±


    ¡°Good advice,¡± the orc interjected. ¡°You should listen to it.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t exactly look old enough to belong here,¡± he said.


    ¡°Power opens doors here,¡± I explained, rolling my eyes. ¡°Not years.¡±


    The Squire examined my face like he might find a hidden truth in its angles.


    He hesitated.


    ¡°You¡¯re no Taghreb,¡± William accused.


    He thought I was Taghreb?


    ¡°Sharp eyes,¡± I agreed sarcastically.


    William stiffened.


    ¡°Traitor,¡± he snarled.


    A knot of nausea tightened my stomach, but I shoved it aside. I couldn¡¯t afford vulnerability. My ¡°allies¡± would jump upon it.


    ¡°Who are we blaming now?¡± I feigned confusion.


    ¡°People talk about you,¡± he declared.


    ¡°Only good things,¡± Hawulti interjected, ¡°or so I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    I felt the weight of another¡¯s presence behind me. My gaze flicked left and right, confirming what I already knew. Hawulti and Fasili had positioned themselves at my flanks, boxing me in with their presence. It took all my willpower not to roll my eyes. I looked every inch the scheming villain they painted me as, with these two at my sides.


    This would be funny to watch if it wasn¡¯t so abysmally tragic, the Voice drawled.


    ¡°You brought your lackeys with you?¡± William mocked.


    ¡°Where are your friends?¡± I asked. ¡°Mine came on their own.¡±


    William¡¯s face darkened further.


    ¡°Of course,¡± William snarled, ¡°the Reluctant Strategist¡¯s monster sides with the Truebloods.¡±


    ¡°Poor breeding is no excuse for poor manners,¡± Fasili said with a sigh.


    I swallowed the first unwise retort that came to mind and shaped it into something fit for the audience.


    ¡°Those who wallow in the circumstances of their birth deserve only scorn for it,¡± I drawled.


    William¡¯s fists clenched.


    ¡°You slaughtered Callowan farmers,¡± he said through gritted teeth.


    Angels will switch sides before he hears you out, the Voice snorted.


    The voice was probably correct. Unfortunate. I shrugged, feigning indifference as I met his gaze.


    ¡°Which farmers, exactly?¡± I said with a shrug. ¡°There¡¯s been such a long line.¡±


    The air between us turned brittle as his hands reached for his sword.


    ¡°What exactly do you mean by that?¡± William hissed.


    I took another sip of my wine.


    ¡°Do you expect me to keep a tally? It¡¯s exhausting,¡± I replied.


    There was a flash. I felt a sting as a line of red cut itself across my face.


    The crowd quietened.


    ¡°Must barbarity be your sole contribution?¡± Akua interjected with a sniff.


    William¡¯s eyes darted from me to Akua, to everyone else. Then, it sank in that he¡¯d made a mistake. I was about to open my mouth and turn the moment to my advantage when another voice cut in.


    ¡°My, my,¡± the Empress murmured. ¡°Such spirited youths we have in attendance tonight. What seems to be the problem, my dears?¡±


    I saw Akua¡¯s knees begin to bend. Recalling what I¡¯d learned, I followed suit a heartbeat later.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± I spoke as I rose to my feet. ¡°I was only offering advice on etiquette when the Squire turned his blade upon me.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the real argument,¡± the Squire challenged, before his eyes widened.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you explain the nature of the disagreement?¡± honey dripped from her tongue.


    William hunched his shoulders.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± William stammered. ¡°Just a mistake.¡±


    ¡°I trust that we will have no more mistakes of this kind, hmm?¡± Malicia¡¯s eyes sparkled as she spoke.


    William nodded stiffly.


    The Empress¡¯s gaze lingered on us for a few moments before she swept away.


    The Squire spared me one more glance before stalking off in her shadow.


    Approval radiated from Akua as she smiled beside me.


    The knot in my stomach tightened further.

 Interregnum 8.01

    ¡°Faith may move mountains, but gold buys the shovel.¡±


    ¡ª Mercantis saying.


    <hr>


    The carriage rolled past the last watchtower before Wolof, a red-brick silhouette rising from the hills like a finger to the heavens. Three stories of elegance and menace pierced the sky, crowned with an open rooftop for spellcasting. Functional. Ruthless. A fitting monument to the glories of Praesi ambition.


    Magnificence is a thin veil over the graves beneath, but you already see that, don¡¯t you?


    The many spectacles of Wolof lay nestled in the lands below us. I hated how much I admired it.


    ¡°What do you think,¡± I asked, gesturing towards the scar on my face, ¡°intimidating or just tragic?¡±


    I didn¡¯t actually care. Vanity wasn¡¯t my sin. Well, not my only sin. But the cut William had given me hadn¡¯t faded away. It slashed down my cheek in a way that screamed aspiring cackling Tyrant, and I needed to know if it screamed weakness as well.


    ¡°A mark worthy of the title you¡¯re chasing,¡± Akua reassured. ¡°Tell me, how fares your scheming against the Squire?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t plotted anything against William. Yet. Preparing for his inevitable self-righteous tantrum didn¡¯t count. The Squire still thought of himself as Callowan. Funny, if hypocritical. The broody idiot had dared to call me a traitor at court when he was the one serving the Black Knight. I¡¯d try to talk sense into him again. Better to focus on building alliances in this pit than to poke the sleeping tigers with a stick. I had enough of those after me already.


    ¡°He¡¯s predictable enough to plan around,¡± I evaded. ¡°That¡¯s a rare kind of useful.¡±


    Akua¡¯s face lit up with a feline smile, her lashes lowering in mockery as her fingers traced the hem of her sleeve. Twin suns held my gaze. I tore my eyes away, but I doubted she didn¡¯t notice me staring.


    ¡°If you¡¯re seeking inspiration,¡± she suggested, ¡°the Seventy-Eighth Hell offers a concoction that devours the body from the inside out over a week.¡±


    More horrors from Akua¡¯s collection. She had an uncanny knack for solutions that involved devils and long-term suffering. If I complained about rats in the granary, she¡¯d suggest summoning a demon to salt the earth.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking of something with distilled Elfsbane,¡± I lied.


    ¡°Hawulti laced her rival¡¯s meal with a toxin extracted from a Redtailed-Nightclaw,¡± Akua mused. ¡°A bold choice, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    ¡°That was my idea,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Truly?¡± the pretty girl feigned interest as she asked. ¡°I had no idea you were involved.¡±


    ¡°It was practical,¡± I explained. ¡°An uncommon poison. Having no antidote means no escape.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± she agreed. ¡°The fact that the first symptom of the poison is a swelling around the groin is irrelevant.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± I lied.


    Warmth bloomed in my chest as she smiled, and I hated myself for it.


    ¡°Every legacy worth remembering was built on a foundation of broken rules,¡± she encouraged. ¡°New Evils are the mark of those who dare.¡±


    Ahead, Wolof unfurled like a tapestry: pale red bricks and sunlit stone sprawling upward in impossible grandeur. Palaces perched on hills like vultures watching over veins of aqueducts, which spilled water into rooftop cisterns and crowded streets below. Houses clung together with arches and pillars thick as tree trunks, as if the city itself was attempting to climb into the sky.


    Colours bled through it all: banners of every hue strung between buildings, rooftop gardens green with ivy, and bricks that glowed like embers in the setting sun.


    It was beautiful.


    It was alive.


    And my fingers twitched with the urge to tear it apart.


    The worst part? Not even the palaces in Laure came close. Nothing in Callow compared to this.


    I couldn¡¯t help but notice how the city wards caught the light as we neared the gates. Intricate carvings shimmered in the sunlight, like the city displaying itself for an audience. The bazaar buzzed with life beyond, stands thrown together from wood and cloth in a chaotic patchwork. Spices, jewellery, copper, silver, gold ¡ª all displayed like they were baubles at some village fair. The only thing conspicuously absent?


    Food.


    That was rationed elsewhere.


    Enchanted goods were treated with the same casual disregard as lives around here. Ever-sharp kitchen knives, stone cold-boxes carved with intricate runes, prettily sculpted magelights, alchemical brews, remedies for colds ¡ª all of it bartered over with the enthusiasm of people arguing about cabbage. Actually, the cabbage might garner a larger audience in Wolof. None of them were sorcerers, yet magic was woven into their lives as seamlessly as the thread in their robes.


    I wondered how long it¡¯d all hold up in the face of a plague. Magic might slow it down, alchemy might buy them a week or two, but no priesthood would ride to the rescue. They¡¯d end up trading each other to devils before it was over.


    Charming, isn¡¯t it? Or perhaps it¡¯s only a distraction from what truly matters.


    I frowned, tuning out the voice.


    The bazaar felt quieter than usual.


    ¡°Is there a famine?¡± I asked. ¡°Did somebody suggest holding ballots for ritual sacrifice?¡±


    ¡°An oddity, to be sure,¡± Akua agreed.


    ¡°Any guesses?¡± I inquired.


    ¡°No word was sent,¡± she replied, ¡°which suggests this is likely trivial.¡±


    She said that, but I noticed the way her gaze swept the crowd. It also didn¡¯t hold much weight. A large gathering near the administration buildings caught my eye. It wasn¡¯t long before they craned their necks and pointed in our direction. My stomach churned as they smiled and cheered. That¡­ somehow made it worse.


    None of them looked hungry or desperate. They never did. The Sahelians took care of their own people, and ¡ª despite their many sins ¡ª the loyalty that bought felt almost unshakable. It was heady in a way that put acid on my tongue.


    Power. Not the messy kind, but distilled and clean.


    And I felt it all the more keenly with Heiress beside me.


    Power tempts when others bow, doesn¡¯t it? William felt the same.


    The words landed harder than I wanted to admit.


    Wolof had become too familiar. Evil lay buried beneath the pretty coat. And yet there was something undeniably alluring to me about it regardless. I almost laughed. Bitter, dry, unpleasant. I detested it because I could feel it pulling me in. How long before I looked in a mirror and started to like the person looking back?


    The road¡¯s always there. It just gets narrower with every step, the voice offered.


    I¡¯ve burned a few too many bridges for that, I argued.


    What binds you here, truly? Is it duty, or something else? The voice asked.


    You¡¯re as useful as tits on a bull, I snapped.


    I know little of silk and poison, it countered.


    Seems like you don¡¯t know much at all, I pressed.


    My mental parasite paused.


    Swinging swords or being a hero, it replied.


    Well, finally something useful. It only took it five months to come up with that gem. And even ¡°useful¡± was a stretch. I¡¯d have been better served with a sheep for company. At least a sheep wouldn¡¯t waste its time begging me to leave for Procer. I also doubted it held any truth. It¡¯d given me plenty of commentary on both philosophy and politics.


    Got any useful ideas on how to wade through this snake pit without coming out fanged myself? I challenged.


    The voice was quiet for a while.


    Remember what keeps this place standing, it said, fading away.


    As if I could forget.


    The stories about demons were never far from my mind. They were the worst kind of Praesi horror, the kind that kept me awake at night. Yet they were the foundation this city stood on. They kept the streets clean. They kept the people alive.


    Smiling faces passed by, blissfully unaware of what kept their peace intact. Or worse, aware but indifferent. It was hard to reconcile the immaculate streets with the secrets I¡¯d learned. The people of Wolof were free of the madness that plagued the rest of Calernia. Free of the madness the Aspirant unleashed. They didn¡¯t even seem to know ¡ª or care ¡ª what it had taken to make that freedom possible.


    My fingers clenched.


    This city lived up to its reputation in every way.


    ¡°You look like someone just suggested you visit the House of Light, Catherine,¡± Akua pretended concern. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    Her voice was like velvet wrapped around a blade.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°The folly of heroes,¡± I lied.


    Our carriage clattered past the kufuna, turning onto a broader avenue. Outside, students traded black stones with grim efficiency. It wasn¡¯t just teaching betrayal; it was elevating it to an art form. No, more than that. A tool to determine whose blood would wet the altar when the famine struck.


    I brushed aside the unease in my thoughts.


    The system was revolting, but it worked. Efficient. Ruthless. I¡¯d known hunger before. I knew what it was like to be desperate. Would Callow have embraced something like this to keep its people fed?


    Probably.


    I loathed that I couldn¡¯t fault them for it.


    The carriage halted before the Empyrean Palace, an absurd name that somehow felt earned. The architecture was every bit as grandiose as its title promised, towering marble and gilded trim almost enough to make me forget the Evil within. Almost.


    We passed through the main doors into the greeting halls and flashed our tokens to the ever-present guards. A waste of time, if Praes wasn¡¯t brimming with assassins and spies. Then came half a mile of white and pink marble. The Grand Gallery. Was the pink natural? Or bloodstained? Either would fit this den of snakes.


    It suits you, the voice in my head commented wryly.


    Choke on it, why don¡¯t you? I retorted.


    Why? You¡¯ve shaped yourself to survive here, though survival has its price.


    I ignored it, stepping past the threshold gates into Issa¡¯s Garden. Servants bowed low as we passed, eyes glued to the floor. Soon enough, we reached the parlour where High Lady Tasia was supposed to meet us.


    Or so I thought.


    ¡°Lady Akua, Novice,¡± a familiar voice greeted. ¡°May the Gods turn a blind eye to your schemes.¡±


    Sargon Sahelian. He leaned against the hickory door frame, all awkward angles and unfortunate proportions. Most Sahelians were strikingly beautiful. He wasn¡¯t, which made him all the more dangerous. I suspected that many tombstones dismissed him too easily.


    ¡°Sargon,¡± I said, matching Akua¡¯s polite venom. ¡°Always a pleasure.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll have to return later,¡± he commiserated. ¡°Mother is engaged in negotiations with the other High Seats.¡±


    ¡°Is there any particular reason for this delay?¡± Akua asked, arching a perfect eyebrow.


    ¡°The Empire¡¯s unravelling, and the provinces are starting to eat each other,¡± he explained.


    ¡°Surely you jest,¡± Akua said, amused.


    ¡°But no less true,¡± he declared. ¡°The Tyrant of Helike has resurfaced after his extended absence and taken Liesse. Furthermore, the Ravel Bank¡¯s coin has all disappeared.¡±


    Liesse, conquered? When? How? Helike? Why?


    It was difficult to appreciate the sheer level of absurdity contained within that one small sentence.


    ¡°How did this state of affairs come to pass?¡± Akua inquired.


    ¡°The Tyrant of Helike marched his army through the Waning Woods,¡± Sargon explained.


    ¡°Did he really?¡± someone blurted out.


    My cheeks reddenned when I realized the someone was me. Akua¡¯s brief flicker of surprise was the only solace I had. At least I wasn¡¯t the only one caught off guard.


    ¡°We are certain,¡± Sargon replied, sounding amused. ¡°It¡¯s been confirmed by over a dozen agents.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Akua said slowly. ¡°The provinces burn while Wolof remains steady,¡± her mask returned, ¡°this is an opportunity, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Hasn''t Callow suffered enough under one Tyrant?


    I bit down on my anger and frowned. Wolof had been distancing itself from the Ravel Bank for months, trading away fae coin for anything more stable. Callow hadn¡¯t been so lucky. The Reluctant Strategist¡¯s ¡°gift¡± had flooded our economy. The High Seats might get ideas if Callow¡¯s economy collapsed. And, well, without their funding the Legions of Terror would fall apart. The Black Knight¡¯s soldiers were loyal, but loyalty didn¡¯t fill empty stomachs.


    ¡°The worthy will rise,¡± I parroted.


    I¡¯ll eat the rubies on my heels If the Empress missed this.


    ¡°I¡¯ll dig into it,¡± she declared. ¡°We¡¯ll speak again once I¡¯ve gathered more. The servants will alert you.¡±


    The dismissal didn¡¯t surprise me. Trust had no place within the Empyrean Palace. There were many secrets I had to discover on my own. It was even expected of me. She swept off without a backward glance and headed towards the parts of the palace I wasn¡¯t allowed to see.


    You¡¯d think her world was falling apart, the way she rushed off.


    I snorted. It wasn¡¯t wrong. This was Wolof. Excessive curiosity didn¡¯t just kill here, it eviscerated and left only silence as a warning. Alive sounded smarter than dead, so I turned back to the Western Wing. Time to visit my friend while I dwelled on our next move.


    A quick knock at her door. No answer. Another knock. Still nothing.


    A sinking feeling twisted in my gut. Shadows writhed in the gap beneath the door and tore through half a dozen trigger mechanisms. I turned the handle and stepped inside. Abigail lay on the bed, shivering, her sunburned face pale as bleached bone. My gut twisted into knots, panic scratching at the edges of my resolve.


    There were days when impassive Catherine believed she¡¯d surpassed the capacity to panic.


    Then there were days like this.


    ¡°Abby, you still with me?¡± I whispered.


    Her eyes fluttered open¡ªbarely. Glazed, distant. She shuddered, her body jerking like a string was pulled too tight and about to snap. Fever. No, not fever. This was the Empyrean Palace. A wizard would¡¯ve helped with fever. It could only be poison. My palm pressed to her forehead, and the heat radiating off her skin could¡¯ve boiled water.


    ¡°You¡¯re burning up,¡± I muttered. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll fix it. I always do, right?¡±


    I glanced around the room, hoping for something¡ªanything¡ªthat would give me a hint as to the source. A half-eaten dish, incense burning too faintly to notice at first, maybe even an empty glass. Nothing. Just a bare room, Abigail trembling under thin blankets, and me.


    ¡°Stupid,¡± I hissed. ¡°So very, very stupid.¡±


    Why did I bring her here? Why had I thought this would be fine? Praes chewed people up and spat them out, and I¡¯d dragged my only friend into it like she was just another tool. Sure, she¡¯d asked to come. She¡¯d been lost, broken, clutching my arm like it was the only thing keeping her afloat. But still.


    Her body jerked again, cutting through my thoughts. Sweat rolled down her too-pale face. My stomach twisted into knots. Not a simple toxin. Something more insidious. Slower.


    Her arm was limp as I lifted it, pulling back her sleeve. Nothing. No rash, no swelling. That ruled out Melasax and Grinth¡¯s Cord. Paralysis wasn¡¯t setting in, either. Thryssine? No, the fever didn¡¯t match.


    I let out a string of muttered curses as my mind raced through the catalogue of fascinating ways to kill people I¡¯d learned about during my stay. Mirithene? That could fit. It was a fruity poison often added to drinks. I quite liked the taste. Subtle, slow-acting¡ªmeant for a long, drawn-out death. I forced her mouth open to check her tongue. Not swollen. Damn it. Not Mirithene either.


    ¡°Shit,¡± I exclaimed.


    Think, Cat. Think.


    Praesi games. There¡¯s always a reason. Whoever did this wanted something from me. Sure, they might¡¯ve poisoned Abigail just for fun, but they wouldn¡¯t have used something I didn¡¯t recognize unless they wanted to twist the knife.


    I started tearing the room apart. Drawers, cupboards, the underside of the bed. It wasn¡¯t pretty or quiet, but I didn¡¯t care. Something had to be here. Some kind of clue. I found it under her pillow. A crumpled piece of parchment marred by the stench of sweat.


    The note was terse, while still dripping with condescension in the way only my hosts could achieve. A list of names, some crossed out, and a brief reminder of Abigail¡¯s ¡°failing health.¡± The letter made no threats or demands. It didn¡¯t need to. The message was implied. Kill these people. Then, maybe, they¡¯d consider an antidote.


    My fingers clenched around the paper. Shadows began curling at my heels.


    ¡°Ma¡­ Da¡­ are you alive?¡­¡± Abigail whispered deliriously. ¡°Why¡­ won¡¯t you answer me? Cat¡­ are they there?¡±


    Her words hit like a knife between my ribs. Fever dreams. Her family¡¯s screams had echoed in the siege¡¯s final moments. The flames had consumed them while I dragged her away.


    ¡°I¡­ I followed you¡­¡± she said as she shivered, ¡°but what if it was wrong? What if I should¡¯ve stayed¡­? It wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this. It wasn¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t want to¡­ I don¡¯t want to die like them.¡±


    Her voice cracked, and the sob that followed shredded what little composure I had left.


    ¡°You¡¯re not dying on me, Abby,¡± I protested. ¡°I¡¯ll drag you back myself if I have to.¡±


    The room was too small, too stifling. I needed to move. To think. To do something.


    Whoever did this thought they had leverage. That I¡¯d roll over and play their little game. They¡¯d get nothing from me but regret.


    What else did I know?


    Anyone who tried this was important enough that they believed they could get away with it. Interrogating the servants would lead nowhere. They''d remain loyal to whoever was pulling the strings, even if I used some of the more creative tricks I¡¯d learned.


    No, that couldn¡¯t be it.


    I wasn¡¯t going to let my only friend die. Abigail was the last shred of decency left in my life, and I¡¯d be damned before I let this place take her from me.


    The surrounding shadows thickened as I paced. The names on the list might have a pattern, but that felt like a waste of time. Whoever was behind this would¡¯ve thrown in a few unfortunate souls to keep me off the trail. It¡¯s what I would¡¯ve done in their place.


    There was no guarantee they¡¯d provide an antidote. The Praesi nobility had a fondness for cruelty. I doubted this one would be any different. They wouldn¡¯t honour the other side of the deal.


    No. There was no trust here. And that suited me just fine.


    The real clue was the poison itself. Abigail dying meant they¡¯d lose all their leverage. It wasn¡¯t a quick poison. No, it was a slow death. The kind designed to make me watch and despair. Days, maybe longer. That gave me time. Time to dig, to hunt, to tear through whatever miserable plot they¡¯d spun and gouge out their eyes for daring.


    The knot in my stomach tightened as I stalked out her room. The first servant I ran into quivered as I addressed them.


    ¡°Make sure she¡¯s taken care of,¡± I ordered.


    ¡°It will be done,¡± she stammered, ¡°esteemed guest.¡±


    The halls felt stifling as I continued. Too many servants, too many nobles skulking about. I walked quickly, searching faces for anything suspicious. The pit in my stomach only grew as I returned to my quarters.


    Someone had left tea on my desk. A delicate silver tray with steaming cups.


    ¡°Not now,¡± I muttered, ignoring the sickly sweet smell and brushing past it.


    The bookshelves loomed ahead. Ars Tactica and volumes on military strategy caught my eye. My study material for my ¡°future¡± as the Black Knight. I¡¯d even received a small army of mercenaries from Mercantis to go along with it. Not that strategy or soldiers would help me purge poisons.


    I reached for a tome on toxins instead. High Lady Tesia Sahelian had practically preened when I¡¯d asked to learn about them, calling my interest in poisons ¡°proof that the provinces can be civilized.¡± One day, I¡¯d show her exactly how civilized I was when she choked on her own fingers.


    The first book was a dead end. I scowled and tossed it aside before grabbing another. Then another. My fingers flicked through pages faster and faster. The books were old, their pages yellowed and crumbling under my touch. I didn¡¯t care. The knot in my stomach grew tighter with every empty answer.


    Nothing.


    I slammed the last tome shut and laughed bitterly. It wasn¡¯t funny, but I needed to make some sound, or I was going to start screaming. The tea tray rattled as I shoved the book aside. Dust and desperation coated the back of my throat.


    Fine. The unrestricted sections of the library were next. Maybe I¡¯d find something there. Or maybe I¡¯d hurt the librarian until they told me what I needed. A knock at the door interrupted that thought. A servant shuffled in, trembling like I was about to bite his head off.


    ¡°Esteemed Novice,¡±  he stammered, bowing low enough that I could have balanced a teacup on his back. ¡°There¡¯s an invitation for you. Lady Akua has invited you to a theatre performance after the meeting with High Lady Tasia.¡±


    Akua.


    The name hit me like a punch to the gut. I took the note with a trembling hand. It was perfumed. Of course it was. I read the words, though I already knew what they¡¯d say.


    She¡¯d know what poison it was. She wouldn¡¯t tell me ¡ª otherwise the lesson on protecting that which is precious to me wouldn¡¯t stick ¡ª but she¡¯d know. And the worst part? I couldn¡¯t even bring myself to hate her the way I should.


    Not the way I hated all the other nobles in this cursed city.


    My jaw tightened.


    Still, this presented an opportunity. She might be untouchable, but others weren¡¯t. My hands moved without thought, filling a small pouch with a few carefully chosen poisons. I¡¯d track down master herbalists and see how far their loyalty extended ¡ª or how easily it could be twisted.


    If that failed¡­ well. I¡¯d give Akua a theatre performance worthy of her curated tastes. All I needed was the right audience ¡ª a deserving target with the skills necessary to make my problem theirs.


    And in Praes, there was never a shortage of deserving targets.

 Interregnum 8.02

    ¡°In the end, the knife knows no sheath,


    The crown knows no master,


    And the Tower knows no equal.¡±


    ¡ª Extract from ¡®And So I Dreamt I Was Awake¡¯ by Sherehazad the Seer


    <hr>


    The parlour door creaked like it had a personal vendetta against me as I shoved it open. Hickory walls ¡ª studded with enough gemstones to feed a farmer for life ¡ª caught the dim light and cast jagged shadows everywhere. Four polished mirrors sat atop a table in the centre of the chamber. Spice and wine hung heavy in the air, clinging to my throat with every breath.


    Akua arched an eyebrow as I stepped inside. She looked as though she¡¯d been waiting to see me squirm. Her silk gown shimmered in the magelight as she rose. One of her hands brushed my arm as she swept forward. It took all my will not to stiffen. She probably thought it was funny. Like she was taming a Callowan horse. We¡¯d see who was laughing when the knives came out.


    ¡°Late again, Catherine,¡± she clicked her tongue as she mused. ¡°Tardiness doesn¡¯t suit you.¡±


    I glanced around. Mother snake was nowhere to be seen. Great. I was only half as likely to get my throat torn out today. A relief, of sorts.


    ¡°The streets held me hostage,¡± I excused insincerely. ¡°My apologies for the inconvenience to your schedule.¡±


    ¡°Punctuality is a virtue even in Praes,¡± I shivered as she reprimanded me. ¡°A pity you seem intent on discarding it.¡±


    I ignored the instinct to snap back, though my jaw tensed. Now wasn¡¯t the time for an outburst, though the thought of wringing her neck did appeal a smidgeon more than it usually did. The theatre performance loomed. Another opportunity to ply people for answers. I hadn¡¯t had much time to search before this meeting. The herbalists I¡¯d tried had been a dead end, and Abigail still looked like a living corpse. The event would be useful. I¡¯d make it useful.


    ¡°Any new corpses to count during my absence?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Only minor matters,¡± she dismissed. ¡°Though I did wonder if you intended to arrive at all.¡±


    Idly, I wondered what the Catherine of two years ago might think of herself. Would she be ashamed? Or would she understand what I¡¯d chosen to do? I almost snorted. As if. She¡¯d think I¡¯d sold out, become everything I hated. And hells, she¡¯d be right. But that Catherine achieved nothing of worth. At least I had a chance.


    Akua¡¯s hand lingered on my arm a fraction too long as she guided me to the couch. I didn¡¯t look at her. Didn¡¯t even want to feel the heat from her body beside mine. Fadila was already in the corner, nodding like a piece of furniture that had learned to talk.


    I sank into the chair as Akua sprawled out like a cat beside me.


    ¡°Let us dispense with the pleasantries,¡± Akua murmured. She leaned forward and brushed her fingers against each of the mirrors. ¡°Show me not my reflection but the face of your brother.¡±


    The surface of each mirror shimmered, blurring until faces emerged one by one. Barika Unonti¡¯s eyes narrowed as she surveyed the room. Fasili Mirembe followed, lounging beside some kind of four-headed cat with the casual disregard for sanity only the Aksumite nobility could achieve. Hawulti Sahel¡¯s chin jutted out imperiously as she appeared next. Ghassan Enazah materialized last, with a grin so fake it might as well have been painted on.


    Some days, I wondered what cruel joke had dropped me into this nest full of vipers. Other days, I just sharpened my teeth. All we were missing was someone actually playing the Role of Black Knight. Dark, broody, dressed in heavy armour. Perhaps a goblin? Who could I complain to about obtaining minions that were less archetypical?


    ¡°Lady Sahelian,¡± Barika said with a smile, her gaze sweeping over me like I was an unruly servant. ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought¡­ company.¡±


    I could taste the venom dripping from her fanged words. She¡¯d stab me in the back without a second thought if I gave her the chance. Her opposition to me had always felt personal, which I couldn¡¯t blame her for. I¡¯d be jealous too if someone else got to be so close to Akua¡¯s pretty face. Well, I would be if I didn¡¯t know any better.


    ¡°Barika,¡± I said, the wine sweet on my tongue, ¡°I hear your gift for tongues has the Tower talking. Must be exhausting.¡±


    Her face tightened, and I had to fight back a grin. Hells, she was so easy to taunt. It only took one reminder of how she spent an entire week speaking half a dozen foreign languages for the pretty mask to slip off.


    Akua shot one of those exasperated ¡®don¡¯t start¡¯ glances, but I could see the amusement flickering behind her mask. She enjoyed it as much as I did.


    ¡°Catherine,¡± she chided insincerely. ¡°Is there a reason for such¡­ pleasantries among our friends?¡±


    Friends. Sure. A knife in the back did count as friendship here.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure our friendship will last forever,¡± I said insincerely.


    ¡°Is it true, Novice, that Laure¡¯s winters are kinder to those who crawl its gutters?¡± Barika¡¯s lips twisted into a sneer.


    Really? Digging at my time on the streets? Times like this I wished I hadn¡¯t chosen to side with the Truebloods. Punching her in the face wasn¡¯t accepted in this outfit, no matter how satisfying it would be. Worse, backtalk had to be sophisticated. How about I return the barb in kind? Unonti had been stricken by the aftershocks of Ink Blot. They had yet to recover from the havoc it had caused.


    ¡°I hear your people talk to stones when they want an equal conversation partner,¡± I drawled.


    Fury simmered behind her eyes as Barika¡¯s mouth slammed shut.


    Ghassan picked that moment to slide into the conversation. I had to bite down the urge to gag. I heard the sneering voice of guilds masters in Laure demanding price hikes whenever he spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯ve acquired a modest force,¡± he began, ¡°two thousand Stygian soldiers.¡±


    My gut twisted, but I didn¡¯t let it show.


    ¡°Stygian, you say?¡± Fasili mused. ¡°I imagine their loyalty did not come cheap.¡±


    ¡°True loyalty rarely is.¡± Ghassan countered.


    I kept my face smooth. Stygian slave soldiers. Slavery was illegal within the Empire. But he¡¯d not be fielding them if he cared at all.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± I lied, leaning back in the couch. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine the Tower¡¯s fines are doing your treasury any favours these days.¡±


    ¡°Tower fines?¡± Ghassan snorted. ¡°Irrelevant. They are all free men employed for the defence of the Empire.¡±


    Freed. Sure. Another reason to want my allies dead. Did the leash really matter when you unclipped it if you¡¯d trained a dog to heel from birth? I tensed, expecting the voice to compare me to a hound. No commentary came at all.


    I bit back a sharp comment and forced a grin.


    ¡°Careful now. Nobody likes a benevolent master,¡± I cautioned, ¡°especially one within stabbing range.¡±


    A bout of insincere laughter echoed through the glass.


    I felt the amused gaze of Wolof¡¯s Heiress settle upon me. I ignored it and focused on a particularly plump date. My hatred simmered beneath the surface as the rhythm of the group drew me in.


    ¡°Let¡¯s set aside the theatrics,¡± Akua said as she set aside her glass. ¡°It is time that we address more pressing matters.¡±


    ¡°Go on, Akua,¡± I said as I mirrored her. ¡°Don¡¯t keep us all in suspense.¡±


    ¡°The Empress¡¯s Legions march on Liesse,¡± she began. ¡°Wolof will not sit idle. Catherine shall lead my forces in securing the city.¡±


    ¡°Not aiming for Malicia¡¯s throat yet?¡± I asked, surprised.


    I couldn¡¯t help it. She had me curious. A hostile force in Callow, splitting Malicia¡¯s attention between two fronts. A potential uprising in Callow itself. We could wreak havoc just by striking now. So why was she bothering with Liesse? Not out of any sudden care for the people of Callow, that much was clear. This was the moment to make our claim. Why did she hold back?Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± she said, smirking. ¡°The opening move must be more¡­ calculated.¡±


    So there were more layers to this. My eyes narrowed.


    ¡°A magnanimous gesture,¡± Ghassan interjected. ¡°Though I suspect there¡¯s more to it than simple loyalty.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Akua replied, inclining her head. ¡°Wolof does not serve without purpose, Lord Enazah. We will claim the governorship of Liesse as its due, and, as promised, you will all be compensated in turn.¡±


    She wanted Liesse for something. But what? It couldn¡¯t be the city itself.


    ¡°A curious stratagem,¡± Barika murmured.


    ¡°How long do we have?¡± I pressed, focusing on Akua again.


    Her smile never wavered, but I caught the faintest flicker of tension at the corner of her mouth. She knew what I was really asking. How long could we afford to field mercenaries? How long until the coin ran out?


    ¡°Sufficiently long to see plans set in motion,¡± she evaded.


    ¡°We don¡¯t want the window to slam shut on our fingers,¡± I countered.


    ¡°Would you rather Liesse serve the Empress, kneel to Helike, or free from both?¡± she inquired.


    The attempt to manipulate me with the troubles of my people fell woefully short. What did she want? Maybe to use me as the face of a Callowan uprising? Possible, but I didn¡¯t buy it. Too simple. I stared back at her, but the look she gave me made me rethink pushing any further. Later, she promised with her eyes. Not here. Not now.


    ¡°Do the scouts have numbers for us, or did they come back counting on their fingers?¡± Ghassan asked.


    ¡°The Tyrant¡¯s march through the Waning Wood has cost him dearly,¡± Akua explained. ¡°His forces number just over ten thousand and are split between a mix of Helikean heavy infantry, light infantry, and Cataphracts.¡±


    Ten thousand? Our mercenary force only numbered four thousand. I¡¯d also require proper reports before I could decide on a path ahead. Without the benefit of city walls¡­ The fight would be ugly even when fighting beside the Legions. On the other hand, that made petitioning for governorship more plausible.


    ¡°Has any insight been gleaned into the Tyrant¡¯s motives?¡± Ghassan inquired.


    ¡°They remain obscure,¡± Akua lied. ¡°Scouts report his supply train and slaves are missing, forcing him to pillage the countryside.¡±


    Akua was an excellent liar, but this act? It was thinner than some of the nicer dresses she wore. She didn¡¯t know what the Tyrant planned. She only suspected it involved whatever she wanted.


    ¡°And what happens if we lose the governorship?¡± I challenged.


    ¡°We will not,¡± she replied, her eyes sparkling.


    ¡°When do we march upon the Tower?¡± Barika inquired.


    ¡°When the governorship is ours,¡± Akua replied. ¡°The strike upon the Tower must be swift and decisive. Then we will march on Ater and claim what is rightfully ours.¡±


    How could I twist this to my advantage? Alliances outside of Akua¡¯s little circle were looking mighty attractive right now. I needed a force of my own if I was going to pull off something as dangerous as sticking a knife into the heart of this little game once the dust had settled. But who could I convince?


    ¡°Are the matrons involved?¡±  I asked, to no one in particular.


    The matrons ruled the goblin tribes. I didn¡¯t understand them, and what little I knew convinced me that no outsider did. However, I had heard enough to convince me they were the right sort of people to talk to if I wanted to peddle an extra serving of treason.


    ¡°Leave it to the provincial girl to grovel for scraps from her kind,¡± Barika said as her face twisted into a positively charming expression. One that wouldn¡¯t look out of place on a frog.


    ¡°Bold words,¡± I replied without missing a beat, ¡°considering you¡¯re swimming in the mud without me.¡±


    Akua¡¯s gaze shifted to me. ¡°Do you believe the matrons can be swayed?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± I said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°They¡¯ve got a habit of stabbing both backs when the wind changes.¡±


    ¡°Securing their support would grant us access to munitions,¡± Ghassan acknowledged.


    ¡°They¡¯ll demand concessions,¡± Fasili added. ¡°It would be an insult to our pedigree to accept them.¡±


    Insult to pedigree, huh? Nice to know that some people¡¯s heads were still firmly lodged in the clouds. The wealth must¡¯ve had something to do with it. There was something to be said about too much coin pushing the nobility a few too many feet past the shores of sanity.


    ¡°I like to think that it¡¯s obvious to all of us that the Black Knight¡¯s success is in part due to the reforms,¡± I drawled.


    ¡°To cede even an inch to the greenskins is to betray the old truths,¡± the airhead of Unonti asserted. ¡°They remain lesser than some of us.¡±


    Some of us. My lips twitched. She couldn¡¯t waste another chance to plant a barb.


    ¡°Truth is mutable,¡± I countered, ¡°or so Akua informs me.¡±


    Barika¡¯s mouth snapped shut.


    ¡°Catherine is correct,¡± she acknowledged. ¡°We will engage the matrons when the time is ripe.¡±


    ¡°Promises are easy to break when you¡¯re the one holding the throne,¡± I suggested.


    That proposal mollified the venomous snakelets. Good. Let them do that. I could offer to uphold those promises instead. I had no issues with granting goblins control of, say, Foramen. Better them than the Truebloods.


    ¡°Then it is agreed,¡± Akua said. ¡°We will engage the Black Knight further and reconvene when we near our foe. This meeting is adjourned.¡±


    Barika, Fasili, and Hawulti and Ghassan offered polite farewells, before four mirrors dimmed.


    Akua rose from the couch.


    I matched her without a second thought.


    I¡¯d need to speak to the men and women who were presently under my command. It wouldn¡¯t be my first engagement ¡ª I¡¯d put down a group of nomadic brigands at the request of mother snake ¡ª but it would be the first one that mattered.


    The scent of scheming hung in the air as we left.


    ¡°Come, Catherine,¡± she murmured. ¡°The theatre beckons.¡±


    Another chance for me to find somebody who could identify the poison. And if that failed¡­ My fingers clenched. I¡¯d think it over if it got that far.


    ¡°Does the mask ever get heavy?¡± I asked, as we walked. ¡°Or have you forgotten you¡¯re wearing it?¡±


    ¡°What mask? ¡±Akua mused as she pulled a cloak around herself.


    We moved like two spiders in our red-and-gold threads as we departed the Elysium Palace. I wouldn¡¯t fault anyone from turning the other way. We reached one of the many amphitheatres decorating the upper stretches of Wolof. The glimmering boughs of arches towered over us, illuminated by magelights. The place was packed, people crammed into every available space.


    The two of us ignored the cheaper seating as we swept towards the upper levels.


    The guards took one look under Akua¡¯s hood and allowed us through.


    I scowled.


    None of the seats were free.


    ¡°A pity,¡± she mused aloud. ¡°Perhaps someone should leave, unless they¡¯d rather face an¡­ accident.¡±


    ¡°And maybe you should''ve come earlier,¡± somebody in the crowd jeered.


    I raised an eyebrow. Her face might¡¯ve been hidden under a hood, but¡­ surely they could recognize Akua Sahelian from her gait alone? I tilted my head and studied the faces above. I didn¡¯t see who said the words, but I admired their brazenness. Laughter rippled through the upper level. Nobody moved.


    ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d care about their own survival,¡± I remarked.


    Akua¡¯s smile stretched, but her eyes flicked to me, expecting something. Seriously? She wanted me to play the role of the Black Knight to her Empress here? I blinked. An early onset of megalomania did suit her perfectly. I saw what game she was playing, and I knew exactly where she was hoping I¡¯d fit in.


    Her monster.


    I swallowed as my nails dug into my palms.


    Could I do this? My mouth dried. This was¡­ violence without reason. No, not true. It¡¯d build upon my existing relationship with the Sahelians. Besides, anybody here deserved what came to them. Still, if I was going to do this¡­ best do it in a way that furthered my own goals. I examined the crowd as unease settled in my stomach.


    My eyes caught the familiar face of a master herbalist seated beside a merchant. Esran. He¡¯d had the gall to sell me the wrong herbs the first few times I¡¯d made use of his services. Even went so far as to call it a lesson. I shoved aside my nausea as I decided to teach him a lesson in turn.


    Whispers of darkness darted forwards eagerly and carried a gift from the pouch at my side. They slithered towards the pair unnoticed. The shadows hardly ever demanded the spilling of blood for subservience these days, and never when I did something villainous. Surely the most ringing of endorsements.


    The merchant¡¯s drink got a quick dose of something fast-acting. The herbalist¡¯s poison? Slower, subtler. Exactly what I¡¯d need to make use of the man later. The merchant took a skip and gasped only heartbeats after my tendrils withdrew, clutching at his purpling throat.


    ¡°Curious,¡± I murmured to Akua.


    The herbalist froze as the smile on Akua¡¯s face widened.


    ¡°A pity about your friend¡¯s sudden illness,¡± I commented. ¡°Bad timing, wouldn¡¯t you say? Might be worth a chat later ¡ª if you¡¯re still breathing.¡±


    His face paled as realization struck. He had offended the wrong person. I let my gaze linger, meeting his wide eyes with a faint, knowing smile. He¡¯d run first. He¡¯d try to cure it on his own. The antidote was ruinously expensive. He¡¯d come to me for help when he failed, and I¡¯d demand Abigail¡¯s life as my price.


    ¡°Efficient,¡± she whispered as the herbalist bolted from his seat. ¡°I¡¯d wager that was a better performance than the one we''ve come to watch.¡±


    My smile mirrored hers before I caught myself.


    I swallowed.


    Bile tinged at the back of my throat. I shoved the corpse aside as we ascended to the empty chairs. The whispers of the crowd died. Hundreds of eyes fell upon us before finding safer places to look.


    Akua¡¯s hand came to rest on my arm.


    I stiffened.


    The performance began, but my mind was elsewhere. Akua wanted me to be her monster, and every day I felt a little closer to it. The silence in my head rang of judgement. Should I have listened? Should I have run for the Principate? Was it too late to change my mind?


    The thought fled almost as soon as it appeared. No. I wasn¡¯t running West. They were no better than the monsters I¡¯d surrounded myself with. At least the Empire¡¯s was honest about its plans to ruin Callow. Procer would demand we thank them for it.


    Shadows shifted at my feet, restless and hungry.

 Interregnum 8.03

    ¡°No one fears an honest man, Chancellor. That¡¯s why I killed all of mine.¡±


    ¡ª Dread Emperor Malignant III


    <hr>


    A pair of vultures crowded a patient¡¯s bed.


    Tables and chairs, shoved aside. Another half dozen people could¡¯ve fit beside us, yet the room felt crowded.


    Loose strands of dark brown hair caught in my fingers as Abigail writhed in the space below, caked in sweat from head to toe. All she needed was some chains, and she¡¯d look about one twitch away from auditioning as a ghost in a theatre performance.


    I swallowed.


    ¡°Fix this. Now.¡± I demanded, looking up at Esran.


    Green eyes like buttons, bulbous nose, swollen face¡ªthe Taghreb alchemist looked like an overripe melon left out in the sun too long. He sucked in his flabby cheeks before replying.


    ¡°I¡­ I need time to examine her condition,¡± the fevered alchemist stammered.


    Esran poked and prodded, muttering over bubbling concoctions. A prick of the knife drew blood, but his chants yielded no answers.


    ¡°It¡¯s beyond me,¡± he declared. ¡°I can¡¯t help her.¡±


    Nothing, huh. Well, at least we¡¯d established a high baseline of uselessness today. I should¡¯ve known better.


    ¡°Try again,¡± I insisted.


    The room darkened.


    The herbalist shivered, gulped, stumbled backwards.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand!¡± he exclaimed. ¡°There¡¯s no cure. No antidote. Saving her would take a miracle.¡±


    A miracle? In Praes? Might as well pray for a polite demon or a blizzard in summer. The only miracle here was how Esran still lived.


    ¡°Miracles, huh?¡± I mused, ¡°Guess you¡¯ll need one too.¡±


    Black threads wove through loose furniture.


    ¡°Please, Novice,¡± he begged. ¡°I did everything I could.¡±


    Shadows cackled around us as I took a step closer.


    ¡°Start convincing me why I shouldn¡¯t gut you right here and now,¡± I challenged.


    Esran¡¯s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for water. It would¡¯ve been funny if I didn¡¯t want to shove a knife into his gut. Abigail¡¯s chest rose and fell beneath my hands, each breath weaker than the last. My fingers twitched with the urge to shake her awake, as if stubbornness alone could keep her alive. She¡¯d been so talented at staying out of trouble that I scarcely believed she¡¯d fallen so deep into it.


    ¡°I have a family!¡± he wailed. ¡°Two daughters¡ªMalaika and Farah. A son who¡¯s just learning to walk. Please, Novice, I beg you¡±


    I stared at him. A family. Everyone except me had one, didn¡¯t they? All of them so precious, save the ones I¡¯d taken away. Those families didn¡¯t get stories or second chances. Neither would his, if it came to that.


    ¡°The last rebellion killed thousands,¡± I replied, shrugging. ¡°What makes your kids so special?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± he stammered, confused.


    ¡°Every street orphan¡¯s got a story,¡± I explained, fingers clenching as something sharp twisted behind my ribs, ¡°and most of them don¡¯t end with mercy.¡±


    The alchemist met my gaze, unflinching.


    ¡°Wrong place for mercy, Esran. Start being useful, or your family will be mourning you come dawn,¡± I continued.


    ¡°Have you no heart at all?¡± he pleaded. ¡°You¡¯re not Praesi.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t be dancing on your grave,¡± I shrugged, ¡°but I won¡¯t be losing any sleep over this, either.¡±


    The light in his eyes dimmed. His shoulders sagged, and his trembling hands clutched his robe as though it could shield him. Good. Maybe now he¡¯d realize that poking the monster with a stick was a bad idea.


    ¡°Please¡ª¡±


    ¡°Save it,¡± I snapped. ¡°If she dies, so do you.¡±


    A dark promise hung in the air between us. My pets prowled at my heels. They curled up his robes like a noose testing the fit. Pathetic. I¡¯d seen alley rats with more grit¡ªand less pleading. The satisfaction I felt curdled almost instantly. Disgust? Guilt? Probably both. It¡¯s not like I¡¯d be earning my way into the heavens regardless.


    A faint noise slipped from cracked lips as Abigail stirred beneath me. I froze, leaning down so close I could feel the heat radiating off her fevered skin.


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­¡± she muttered, her voice barely audible over the pounding in my ears.


    I froze.


    ¡°What did you say?¡± I asked.


    Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused but bright with fever.


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ do this,¡± she whispered. ¡°Not for me.¡±


    For a moment, all I could do was stare at her. My shadows dispersed like fog under the glare of the sun. Then, memories returned. Abigail helping me escape through the sewers. Abigail breaking me out of prison. Abigail watching her parents die.


    Anger surged.


    ¡°You¡¯re dying, Abby,¡± I told her. ¡°What else am I supposed to care about?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer, just squeezed my hand weakly. Her fingers were so cold.


    ¡°Not like¡­¡± she murmured. ¡°Not like¡­¡±


    Her words broke off into a cough as her whole body convulsed.


    ¡°Not like what?¡± I urged.


    ¡°No point winning if you¡¯re like¡­¡± she trailed off.


    How thoughtful of her to echo my words, the voice commented.


    Shut up, I snapped.


    Taking the Tower means nothing if it changes nothing, it said in the judgemental tone a priestess used when reading scripture.


    A mountain of spite demanded I say something. Demanded I retort. I shoved it aside. The room blurred. I didn¡¯t let go of her hand. Couldn¡¯t. My other hand shot to my belt, fumbling with the small vial tucked inside.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I spat, yanking it out and tossing it at Esran. ¡°Catch.¡±


    He fumbled in his rush to grab it.


    A strangled sound left his throat.


    I leaned forward and caught it.


    ¡°Careful,¡± I warned. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to turn this stalled murder into a suicide.¡±


    Esran didn¡¯t reply. His trembling fingers fumbled with the stopper, his hands slick with sweat. He gulped audibly, then bolted like a rat escaping a burning granary. The door slammed shut behind him, and silence swept in, broken only by Abigail¡¯s laboured breaths. I stared at the empty doorway for a beat longer, then turned to my friend.


    ¡°You¡¯re not dying, Abby,¡± I whispered. ¡°Not while I have a say.¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer.


    My desperation curdled into something darker. What was left? Vengeance? No. Filleting the snake responsible might be satisfying, but it wouldn¡¯t heal my friend. I needed another answer, fast.


    Darkness purred in my ears.


    Akua¡¯s name slithered into my thoughts, uninvited as always. Could she help? Unlikely. If sorcery could fix this, Esran wouldn¡¯t be trembling in my shadow. She wouldn¡¯t help regardless. What did that leave me with? Purging the poison with an Aspect was an option, but I wasn¡¯t sure how it would pan out. Exsanguination wasn¡¯t the prettiest death I¡¯d seen, but¡­ it might be better than poison.


    My hand hovered over her chest, trembling just enough to be annoying. ¡°You know, Abby,¡± I murmured, ¡°a dozen sorcerers would scream themselves hoarse over what I¡¯m about to try.¡±


    Absorb.


    It happened much as I expected it. My Name thrashed against my control. Fought against my desire to make somebody else whole. I wasn¡¯t a healer. I wasn¡¯t supposed to make others better.


    I grit my teeth and honed my will to a point.


    My friend stiffened as darkness sank beneath her skin. A sickening miasma lurked beneath. I panted as my Name struggled against my demands. One last push and my Name burned the poison away in a heartbeat. I doubled over, spilling my guts all over the floor. How inconvenient.


    I spat the last of the foulness out and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Abigail¡¯s breathing evened out, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Relief hit me like a cavalry charge ploughing through Legion ranks.


    ¡°How many times do I have to tell you?¡± I inquired, smiling. ¡°Watch what you eat and drink.¡±


    ¡°What did I say about running here?¡± she retorted.


    ¡°That it beats dying in a mob?¡± I replied.


    ¡°It was a sweet smelling tea,¡± she explained, snorting.


    Sweet smelling tea. The words dug into my thoughts like a jagged blade, catching on memories of tea in my quarters. Few had access to those rooms. Akua and her mother flitted through my mind, only to be set aside. No, they had no reason to strike¡ªyet. This nest of snakes had other vipers, though, and I¡¯d root them out. And when I did? The price would be the longest one.


    ¡°The poison?¡± I queried.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    She started to respond, her lips parting, but a ragged cough stole her words.


    I froze, before relaxing again. I wanted to believe she was fine. Needed to. Anything else was unthinkable.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± I declared.


    ¡°It started this way,¡± she grimaced.


    My hands clenched into fists as despair threatened to drown me. I swallowed it down, forcing myself to my feet. If my power wasn¡¯t enough, then I needed something¡ªor someone¡ªelse.


    ¡°Akua might know something,¡± I mused.


    I didn¡¯t have much hope of that. Not after everything else. Still, I¡¯d only have myself to blame if I didn¡¯t make the attempt.


    ¡°She¡¯d probably dissect me for fun,¡± Abigail muttered, shivering.


    ¡°You¡¯ll make a better zombie that way,¡± I agreed.


    I glanced back at Abigail, her pale face partially hidden by the pillows, as if shrinking from the world. My jaw tightened. The problem had shifted from desperation to academic curiosity. If the poison returned even after I¡¯d burned it away with an Aspect, it wasn¡¯t something mundane. Akua¡ªdespite her devil¡¯s contract worth of flaws¡ªwould find that interesting.


    The sharper in the orphanage would be in the convincing. Specifically, convincing her not to treat Abigail like a cadaver while she investigated. I glanced around the room while I thought and frowned. The surrounding clutter didn¡¯t help, either. Best to pull Abigail somewhere else. How about¡­


    ¡°Come on,¡± I urged, ¡°let¡¯s get you out of bed.¡±


    ¡°Why are we moving?¡± Abigail asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to the Gardens,¡± I explained.


    Abigail raised a hand to protest, then thought better of it. Her watery blue eyes bored holes into me. Saint that I was, I didn¡¯t comment on it. She¡¯d roused a nest of wasteland bees in the gardens shortly after we¡¯d first arrived and come out worse for wear from it.


    I hauled Abigail out of bed. Each step towards the door felt heavier than the last. It felt as if her fading strength leached into my own. The Western Wing was quiet this late at night. A sort of easy stillness had settled over servant quarters. The kind that signified a full day¡¯s worth of schemes unravelling to plan in the background. Abigail leaned heavily on my arm as we made our way down the corridor. Her knuckles whitened where she gripped my wrist, but she hadn¡¯t complained. Yet.


    ¡°You there,¡± I addressed a young Taghreb man in neat livery. ¡°Let Heiress know I¡¯ll be in the Gardens¡ªthere¡¯s something she needs to see.¡±


    The servant froze mid-step when I called out to him. I watched him hesitate for half a heartbeat before nodding sharply and hurrying off.


    ¡°You¡¯ve really got a way with words, don¡¯t you?,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°I¡¯ll charm the paint off the walls,¡± I replied.


    Abigail snorted.


    ¡°I¡¯m just delegating to my future servants,¡± I joked.


    The halls of the Empyrean Palace were quieter here, less ostentatious than the main galleries but no less striking. Copper fixtures gleamed under the soft glow of magelights, and colourful tapestries depicting Wasteland victories added a muted warmth to the otherwise severe stone walls. Servants we passed gave us a wide berth. Smart. I¡¯d have done the same.


    The palace paths gave way to gravel and greenery. The cooler air smelled of lavender and basil, a welcome contrast to the sterile halls. A faint rustle caught my attention. My shadows stirred uneasily at my feet, slipping over the gravel like spilled ink. Something was always hiding in this place. Hiding, and watching.


    ¡°See?¡± I said, leading her toward a bench nestled near a cluster of flowering rosemary. ¡°A garden¡¯s a better deathbed than those sheets, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the first one I¡¯m haunting if I die,¡± she warned.


    I couldn¡¯t tell from her tone if she was joking.


    ¡°Get in line with the other ghosts, then,¡± I replied.


    A laugh turned into a cough. I held her until she waved me off, sinking weakly onto the bench.


    The Gardens were quieter than usual, save for the faint rustle of leaves stirred by a breeze. Pink lilies bloomed beside nenuphars in a small pond, their petals shifting hues with the light. It was peaceful enough, but my eyes lingered on the plants that released a faint purple mist when disturbed. I snorted. Beauty masking danger. Couldn¡¯t even cultivate a garden without having it kill the unwary.


    I sat on the edge of the bench, facing her.


    ¡°From now on, you¡¯re staying close,¡± I declared. ¡°You¡¯re not leaving my sight.¡±


    Her brows rose.


    ¡°Not sure if that¡¯ll improve or worsen my odds of survival,¡± Abigail muttered.


    I wanted to laugh, but the words stung more than they should. Monsters didn¡¯t protect people. They just picked who to eat last.


    ¡°Rude,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯m excellent at stabbing people, thank you.¡±


    The humour slipped from her sunburned face, replaced by something heavier. She looked down at her hands, fingers trembling like worms in her lap.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t come here to stay, Cat,¡± she said. ¡°If winning means joining the Empire, it¡¯s not worth the price.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± I admitted. ¡°But where else do we go? I wouldn¡¯t trust me either, so why would anyone else?¡±


    ¡°Walking away doesn¡¯t mean much if we¡¯re already dead,¡± she snapped. ¡°And for what? Is this what you want to become? You¡¯re Callowan, Cat. Not a proper Summerholm girl like me, but still.¡±


    I met her gaze, her stubborn defiance mirrored in my own.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I lied. ¡°But for now, we wait¡ªthe real game¡¯s only just begun.¡±


    Her glare said she didn¡¯t believe me. A shadow stirred at the edge of the garden path before she could press any further. Akua emerged from the dark like a serpent sliding between stones.


    ¡°Catherine,¡± she greeted, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I understand you¡¯ve found something worth my attention.¡±


    ¡°Abigail was poisoned,¡± I explained. ¡°I burned it out with an Aspect, but the effects have returned.¡±


    ¡°How fascinating,¡± my pulse raced as her eyes lit up. ¡°The Wasteland does have a way with cruelty, doesn¡¯t it? We¡¯re nothing if not¡­ resourceful.¡±


    The deliberate we hung in the air. The weight of it pressed down like a hand on my shoulder. I wanted to fling it off but found myself silent instead. She wasn¡¯t wrong, not any more, and the thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.


    Akua turned to Abigail with a grace so practised it made my shoulders itch. Her mask slipped neatly into place as her hands moved in intricate gestures. Incantations flowed from her lips, shimmering faintly before fading like whispers in the dark.


    ¡°There is little of interest to me here,¡± she declared nonchalantly. ¡°Traces of the poison remain. Your intervention delayed its effects but did not nullify it.¡±


    My stomach clenched, but I kept my voice steady.


    ¡°How long does she have?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The poison¡¯s effects will return in full within a fortnight,¡± she explained.


    Abigail yelped as my fingers tightened around her own. I winced and let go. A fortnight? Wonderful. Another two weeks of watching Abigail¡¯s health wane. I knew that poison would become a regular part of my meals when I visited Praes, just not quite like this. We¡¯d find a cure for this damn toxin, even if I had to force a miracle out of a hero.


    ¡°Whoever dared to orchestrate this treachery will find their infamy long outlives them, I assure you,¡± I swore. ¡°Echoes of their torment will still reverberate a thousand years hence.¡±


    ¡°That, Catherine, I have never doubted,¡± she said, smiling widely with an almost fond look buried within her eyes.


    Akua strolled away down the garden path, disappearing into the darkness.


    The two of us trailed behind her.


    The garden''s stillness lingered in the back of my mind as I laid my head down to rest. Akua¡¯s words clung like noxious perfume to my thoughts, heavy with their own brand of malice. A fortnight. At last, troubled thoughts were swallowed by sleep as I welcomed the land of nightmares.


    Dawn rose.


    Abigail followed behind as I departed the Elysium Palace for the force under my command.


    The camp was a mess: orderly rows of tents and well-placed supply wagons surrounded by a riot of mercenaries doing everything but behave like soldiers. Already, a game of dice spilled into a scuffle near the picket line. Someone cursed in what sounded like Kharsum, and a goat¡ªbecause of course there was a goat¡ªambled through the chaos like it owned the place.


    ¡°Friendly bunch,¡± I muttered, dodging a bulky man who staggered past with a skin of something that smelled flammable.


    ¡°Mercenaries sober before noon?¡± Abigail muttered behind me. ¡°That¡¯s the real surprise.¡±


    ¡°Give it an hour,¡± I shot back. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯re just pacing themselves.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t much of a walk to the command tent, but I was tempted to clear a path with shadows just for the peace and quiet. My sickly friend flinched as a brawler stumbled too close, but the flicker of darkness curling at my feet sent him scurrying away without a word. Sometimes, I acknowledged, there were benefits to being a monster.


    The tent itself was simple¡ªpractical canvas reinforced with wooden beams, no frills or wasted space. The tattered Proceran banner fluttering at the entrance was the only concession to pride, which I supposed matched its occupant. Teresa waited inside, her grey hair tied back like she thought the world might end if a strand got out of place. She stood over the map table, arms crossed, her expression suggesting I was already late for something I hadn¡¯t been told to attend. Amusing, considering I was the one in charge.


    ¡°Finally,¡± she barely raised her eyes from the map as she groused. ¡°Got orders? I¡¯ve little time for theatre dressed as strategy.¡±


    ¡°The Tyrant has taken Liesse,¡± I explained. ¡°Long and short of it? We¡¯re helping the Legions kick him out of Callow. Think pest control, but with more screaming and fewer actual rats.¡±


    Teresa¡¯s eyes narrowed, her expression sceptical enough to put holes in parchment.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware of a Callowan tradition involving bringing sick rabbits to war,¡± Teresa said.


    Her chin jerked toward Abigail, who was doing her best to fade into the canvas.


    ¡°She¡¯s here to keep me from strangling the first idiot I see,¡± I evaded. ¡°So far, you¡¯re not helping.¡±


    Abigail¡¯s hand reached towards her hair, before she froze.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say she didn¡¯t warn you,¡± Abigail muttered. ¡°Definitely not here for the company. Or the smell.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d live to see a Callowan licking Praesi boots,¡± the ageing mercenary commented.


    ¡°On the contrary,¡± I countered, ¡°doesn¡¯t surprise me at all to see a Proceran doing the same. You¡¯re paid to fight, not mouth off.¡±


    ¡°You still expecting us to march like proper Legionnaires,¡± the former fantassin inquired, ¡°or can we drop the charade?¡±


    ¡°It worked for the Legions, didn¡¯t it?¡± I said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯d restructure you all into proper Legions if I thought you¡¯d follow along, but I¡¯ll settle for keeping things disciplined on the field.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you get somebody else to serve as intermediary with the mercenary companies?¡± Teresa complained, sighing. ¡°They¡¯re already griping about the no-pillage rule.¡±


    ¡°The others elected you,¡± I drawled. ¡°Something about you having the most experience. Seemed flattering at the time.¡±


    ¡°How considerate of them,¡± the mercenary muttered. ¡°Truly an honour to be chosen.¡±


    ¡°Logistics are being handled by our hosts, but¨Cbarring major changes¨CI left internal operating procedures to each band,¡± I explained. ¡°Seemed better than cracking skulls over whose wagon wheel broke first.¡±


    ¡°Promote the captains who don¡¯t need a map to find their own heads,¡± Teresa suggested with a grudging nod. ¡°Let the amateurs dig trenches.¡±


    ¡°Knew there was a reason I kept you around,¡± I replied. ¡°Pick the ones you trust and get them organized. Have them report back to me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re trusting me with this?¡± she asked, squinting at me like she was trying to figure out if she¡¯d stepped into an elaborate trap.


    ¡°You¡¯ve spent decades planting corpses like seeds, Teresa,¡± I explained. ¡°And I trust you want to stay alive as much as I do.¡±


    ¡°If we¡¯re waltzing into a trap, I¡¯d rather know where the teeth are,¡± she commented.


    ¡°Tyrant¡¯s got eight to twelve thousand split between cavalry and infantry,¡± I elaborated. ¡°He¡¯s been playing games with the Legions across southern Callow, all the while pillaging wherever he goes. Weird stuff¡ªmore theatre than war. Retreats, counter-retreats. They¡¯ve been dancing around like they¡¯re charging admission for a show.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not much to go on,¡± the grizzled commander replied.


    ¡°He only just showed up,¡± I excused, ¡°and it¡¯s all we¡¯ve got for now. We¡¯ll talk with the Legions as we get closer.¡±


    ¡°It smells like a trap,¡± Abigail asserted.


    Both of us turned her way. Abigail had taken to some of the reading I¡¯d been assigned like a goblin to explosives. Considering how frequently she¡¯d stolen coin off me in Summerholm in games of strategy, it didn¡¯t come as a surprise. Still, I hadn¡¯t expected her to throw an opinion into this discussion regardless of that.


    ¡°Or maybe that¡¯s just the goat,¡± she squawked.


    ¡°What?¡± both of us asked.


    An awkward silence killed all discussion.


    ¡°It¡¯s a fox testing the guards at the hen house,¡± Abigail eventually explained. ¡°Or worse, setting them up to open the door for it.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s something to that,¡± Teresa mused, her eyes narrowing in thought.


    ¡°Probably trying to bait out a story,¡± I agreed.


    I leaned over the map, tracing lines with one finger.


    ¡°Pick your captains, and we¡¯ll see who deserves the title,¡± I declared. ¡°Let the journey test their performance. I want everyone ready to move by nightfall.¡±


    ¡°Consider it handled,¡± the mercenary acknowledged with a smile.


    I smiled as I departed.


    The Sahelians never bothered to speak directly with the mercenaries in their pay. They probably considered it beneath them. True, they were loyal to coin before anything else first but¡­ with the right words in the right ears, I was certain I could encourage a spot of treason among their ranks.

 Interregnum 8.0a

    ¡°The best remedy to poverty is being born into a wealthy household.¡±


    ¨C Mercantis saying.


    <hr>


    Lennox¡¯s fingers drummed an erratic beat against the splintering wood of the table. The rebellion spilled like sand from a broken hourglass in meticulous efforts. The city had gone from teetering off a precipice to standing behind a guarded railing in the month that had passed since the tokens had first been announced. Blood that had once promised to spill like ink now flowed back into the well. Perhaps the fault lay with him. Perhaps his ambitions were too small. He''d believed that it only took a spark and kindling to light a fire, when only a raging inferno would survive when the rains began to fall.


    At first, he''d dismissed the threat of the tokens, believing that none would be so foolish as to entrust all their wealth with a single Merchant Lord. At first, it had even proven true. The market squares turned violent at the cries of starving peasants. Most remaining market stalls had morphed into deserted husks. Those still open were now shadowed by fear, their wares bought and sold with trembling hands in dark corners.


    Then, practicality gave way to desperation and that preconception had proven false. The Merchant Lords bound their fate to that of Merchant Lord Mauricius. Now, Mercantis did its utmost to brand itself under Mauricius''s quill.


    The Revolutionary''s scheme with the fae dragged on like an ox at the end of a hot summer day, although not all momentum was lost. It would be long before Mauricius''s tokens had trickled down to the destitute. The poor traded false coins in dark corners. Lennox could encourage the practice by refusing to trade in anything else.


    The Ravel Bank had also expanded in foreign markets, but progress abroad meant nothing if the scheme unravelled at the source and people became less reliant on his fae coins by the day.


    ¡°Prepare another message,¡± Lennox muttered. His thoughts spilled across the page as he examined the future. The cracks in the once fertile soil of the city widened. Something else was remiss. Secrets spilled like grain from an open sack into the hands of his enemies. Lennox hadn''t found the culprit, but a reckoning would come when he did.


    The Apprentice Salesman had woven through their operation like quicksilver through cracks, his silver tongue and false promises preventing the collapse of the Revolution with the same ease he once used to sell the Guild Exchange. His charisma and deception allowed him to effortlessly pull key figures into their current. Perhaps he could use the man to search the fields for those who made the tokens and bring the system to its knees?


    Lennox had already planted seeds of doubt within the crowds. He¡¯d whispered of a failing system built on nothing but honeyed lies and the glint of gold. It was time to accelerate the sabotage: those most loyal to the Revolution would seek to undermine the token validation system, while Lennox sought to kill Mauricius and topple the system he established.


    ¡°Focus,¡± Lennox muttered under his breath. His mind often drifted as the weeds grew. He would give the orders to find the sorcerers, but would it be enough? Would it burn the fields as it had been meant to? Or had the harvest passed him by without him even realizing it.


    The first clouds had appeared on the horizon, for those with the talent to see. The Merchant Lords and their bloviating servants were restless despite the tokens. A whisper here. A rumour there. Empty pages he could fill, if he could seize them before they were claimed by the flames.


    There was talk of new voices rising within the Revolution¡ªfigures who spoke not of overthrowing the old, but of reforming it. Some even flirted with the idea of making peace with Mauricius. They had coined the phrase From Dust, We Build, an open betrayal of the very ideas he extolled.


    Madness.


    Lennox sneered.


    As if the cow could ever reconcile with the butcher.


    How long before the lines of his support wavered entirely?


    Lennox could read the storm on the horizon. It was only a matter of time before the Revolution tore itself apart. The will to rebel against authority was akin to a sheaf of loose papers set beside an open door. It wouldn''t be long until the wind blew it away.


    Lennox leaned back, rubbing his temples. He had to harvest the crop. But first, he needed to restore momentum, before the rains arrived and doused the fires he¡¯d set. He''d free more of those bound in servitude, stoke their fires to stage an uprising and tear down the Merchant Lords before the Revolution fell apart.


    Lennox stared at the graffiti through the cracked window. The image was crude ¡ª a bird in flight, a token clutched in its talons ¡ª but the message was clear. The streets whispered rebellion. Streets that had been empty for days.


    ¡°What have we here?¡± the voice of the Apprentice Salesman drew him in like a fly to honey.


    Lennox turned towards the figure chewing a loaf of bread by the door.


    ¡°Use your charm to write us an open invitation to the sorcerer¡¯s lairs,¡± he ordered, ignoring the man¡¯s pout. ¡°They¡¯re the roots of this cursed tree, and I intend to rip it from the ground.¡±


    The pretty boy shrugged, then grinned. ¡°Careful with roots. Pull one,¡± the boy closed an empty fist, ¡°and the whole garden comes down.¡±


    ¡°What happened to the man motivated only by those he could fool?¡± Lennox prodded.


    ¡°Still here,¡± the Salesman mumbled between bites. ¡°It¡¯s why I haven¡¯t left.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not gardeners,¡± Lennox said, sighing.


    ¡°Careful, Lennox,¡± the Salesman replied as he departed. ¡°Lest you look in the mirror and see only the weed.¡±


    Lennox considered the words as he fingered the invitation on the desk beside him. Rumours had arrived from Helike. The Tyrant hadn¡¯t been seen for months. His absence combined with his proclivity for making use of fae coinage presented fertile soil for those prepared to till the fields. Was it time? Should Lennox depart from Mercantis?


    No, not yet.


    Not before the city had burned to the ground.


    <hr>


    The chilled Baalite red in his goblet had begun to lose its frost, but Mauricius still hadn¡¯t touched it. The Irenian Plaza below glittered with life, its mosaics shifting in hues under the setting sun. From this hidden balcony at Sub Rosa, the City of Bought and Sold looked almost tranquil¡ªan illusion of serenity.


    Mauricius was too jaded to trust illusions, no matter how beautiful. Whispers of fae gold resurfacing in the black markets added another layer of instability to the city. A shadow economy that not only emboldened his rivals, but also undermined Mauricius¡¯s efforts to establish the tokens as the bedrock of Mercantis¡¯s recovery, compounding the economic challenges he faced. It rankled that his best recourse to counter that complication was to offer his own alternative at cost.


    He adjusted his rings as he leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as his thoughts returned to the day¡¯s correspondence. The Revolutionary¡¯s attacks on the Praesi specialists had grown bolder. Three estates housing sorcerers responsible for the manufacture of tokens had been struck in a single week, two of which had fallen silent for hours before mercenaries drove the attackers out. The delays alone had been costly, but the rumours spreading through the city?


    Those were potentially ruinous.


    The Revolutionary had taken to branding these strikes as a fight for the freedom of indentured servants, claiming the token system served only the Merchant Lords. The man was a dangerous ideologue, Mauricius thought. Dangerous because he was clever enough to dress his chaos as liberation.


    ¡°Wine,¡± he said aloud.


    An attendant appeared instantly, pouring another goblet with practised precision. Mauricius dismissed him with a flick of his fingers, turning his attention back to the cityscape. Rebellion festered somewhere out there.


    Not for long.


    His next response to the attacks would have to be swift. Mauricius would order the construction of fortified facilities with enchanted wards woven like webs through their perimeters. Their defences would be designed by the finest enchanters available for hire. Thick walls of enchanted stone would rise into the city skyline, guarded by well-paid mercenaries whose contracts guaranteed loyalty for as long as the coin flowed. Relocation of key personnel would also begin. Mauricius had already overseen the movement of one particularly valuable sorcerer to his countryside estate, ensuring their work continued uninterrupted.


    He knew these measures were not insurmountable. But insurmountable wasn¡¯t necessary, provided his pockets held until after the Revolutionary starved. Still, the Revolutionary was nothing if not resourceful, and desperation bred creativity.


    Countering the rebellion¡¯s propaganda would require more finesse. Rumblings of discontent from those stricken by poverty grew louder. The dismantlement of the perception that tokens only served to enrich Merchant Lords at the expense of the poor was imperative, before rivers of blood painted the streets of Mercantis. Mauricius¡¯s propaganda campaign sought to pre-empt this by framing the tokens as a shared safeguard for all, linking their stability to the survival of the city itself.


    It was necessary for the Merchant Lords to be framed as essential to the city¡¯s survival. The attacks would likewise be labelled as reckless acts of sabotage. Labelled as nothing more than ¡°strikes against the very stability that fed the poor.¡± Mauricius would see to it that in addition to the posters adorning the markets and docks during his next food distribution campaign. Posters that bore slogans like: "Protect Our Prosperity¡ªProtect the Tokens, or Where There Is Steel, There Is Hope."


    The true finishing touch to his masterpiece, however, would be the Token Assurance Program.


    Mauricius would unveil it soon during his next speech at the Guild Exchange. For a modest fee, citizens would be able to insure their tokens against a variety of eventualities, including theft and physical destruction. The offer of security would strike a nerve in a city gripped by fear. Mauricius could already imagine the lines for enrolment snaking out of his new bank within hours of his announcement.


    Capitalizing on fear remained a reliable method for accruing currency, after all.


    But defence and propaganda alone were not enough. Mauricius was not one to wait idly for the next blow. The rebellion¡¯s fractures had become increasingly apparent, and he had every intention of exploiting them.


    Agents had begun to infiltrate the rebellion¡¯s lower ranks through intermediaries, whispering poison into the ears of discontented groups. Mistrust spread like rot. Some rebels began to question whether their neighbours were Revolutionary loyalists or Mauricius¡¯s spies.


    And then there was Songbird.


    Her charm and resourcefulness had earned her the trust of key parts of the Revolutionary¡¯s organization, although she had yet to catch the snake himself. She balanced on a razor-thin line of intrigue. Her carefully planted whispers drove suspicion between their leaders and destabilized their unity, while she funnelled intelligence back to Mauricius. It was a surprise how she always managed to ensure her own position remained unassailable.


    Her capture of the Apprentice Salesman¡¯s capture had been a devastating blow to the Revolutionary. She¡¯d arranged for another ¡®Merchant Lord¡¯ to show interest in purchasing the Guild Exchange. Why the Apprentice Salesman had been convinced another would fall prey to the same feat remained a mystery, but regardless, the crook had been caught. Songbird had claimed no credit for the feat in an effort to ensure her cover remained intact, but Mauricius could follow the money to its source.


    All of a sudden, the shadowy silhouette of an attendant standing past the sculpted marble arch moved.


    ¡°Merchant Lord Mauricius, there is someone here to see you,¡± the girl said, her hazel eyes not meeting his own. ¡°A representative from the breakaway faction of the Revolution.¡±


    ¡°Send them in,¡± Mauricius replied.


    The Merchant Lord did not bother to ask if the man had been searched for weapons. Only those who had undergone the most extensive of checks would be allowed into his presence at all. A thin, weathered man entered as the servant stepped aside. His eyes flickered around the Sub Rosa, though he quickly masked the unease with a polite bow.


    ¡°Lord Mauricius,¡± the man greeted, ¡°A proposal-¡±


    ¡°Sit,¡± the Merchant Lord said with false warmth. ¡°I assume you have grievances?¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    The man¡¯s fingers twisted in the hem of his cotton shirt as he nodded.


    ¡°We¡¯ve seen the kind of freedom the Revolutionary offers¡­¡± the man trailed off for a moment. ¡°His promises were lies. Word is, you offer real change.¡±


    Mauricius studied the man for a moment before dismissing him and leaning back in his chair. ¡°Tell me, what is it you want?¡±


    Mauricius was certain the rebel''s impassioned speech was fascinating, but he found more wisdom in the rim of his wineglass while he sat and nodded along. The Merchant Lord plastered a consoling frown on his face as he nodded along. Yes, this presented an opportunity that he could use.


    ¡°It¡¯s a terrible thing,¡± Mauricius lied.


    There was some irony, Mauricius reflected, that the man who had sold the man his wife had cheated with into slavery now considered ending indentured servitude. It could serve as a powerful public gesture. The other Merchant Lords were his most likely detractors. Fortunately for him¡­ they had become dependent on his tokens and could hardly refuse his terms.


    Mauricius smiled and leaned forward. ¡°Tell me,¡± he said, ¡°what if I offered to abolish indentured servitude as my first act as Merchant Prince?¡±


    The rebel¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You would do that? But¡ª¡±


    ¡°I would,¡± he agreed.


    He would also increase fees on various services in order to recoup any losses incurred, but the rebel didn¡¯t need to learn about that at all. They could have their freedom and he could line his pockets in the aftermath.


    The rebel leaned forward. ¡°We¡¯ll spread the word. Tell others to support you.¡±


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Mauricius said with a smile. ¡°Consider this an investment in the future.¡±


    Mauricius hummed as the rebel left. One small act had seen to it that the Revolution would splinter even further. Meanwhile, he¡¯d expand his influence further, all while appearing the benefactor. The other Merchant Lords would have no choice but to fall in line.


    Mauricius swirled the wine in his goblet, finally taking a sip. It was warm now, but for once he didn¡¯t mind. His attention drifted to the mosaics below, and the thought struck him that Mercantis itself was much like Aeolian¡¯s work: a fragile beauty maintained by sacrifice.


    The city would endure.


    He would ensure it.


    Despite the Revolutionary''s best efforts, trust in his system slowly grew. The Sahelians had approached, seeking to negotiate for both mercenary contracts and the acquisition of both rare and unusual commodities. He¡¯d gone so far as to not only arrange a mercenary contract for them, but for himself as well. Best to be prepared for when the Revolution let out its last, hacking cough.


    The acceptance of his system among one of the more powerful Praesi noble houses had done much to bolster its reputation, and others would soon follow the path they paved. Mauricius intended to expand his ambitions beyond Mercantis with time. Perhaps it was possible to extend his bank across the full length of Calernia.


    The Revolutionary¡¯s flames burned bright now, but those fires consumed themselves faster than anything else. All Mauricius needed to do was stoke the panic, sow division, and wait.


    And when the city turned to him¡ªdesperate for stability¡ªhe would be ready.


    The most prosperous Merchant Prince to ever have lived.


    Mauricius allowed himself a smile.


    <hr>


    Lennox felt more exposed than he had in some time.


    Old farmer¡¯s instincts screamed at him like they once had when storm clouds gathered over unprotected crops.


    The sun had dipped below the horizon, spilling fire across the Mercantis skyline as he stood on the broken parapet of an abandoned watchtower. He¡¯d rather be anywhere else, and yet this opportunity demanded he show his face. The coins would not disappear a second time.


    And so he looked down upon this who followed the lines he spilled.


    The city unfolded below like pages of a merchant¡¯s ledger, its columns of light and shadow charting the balance between profit and loss.


    There would be no balance tonight.


    It had been some time since the Prince of Nightfall had last shown his face, and Lennox had thought little of it. The whims of the fae were not to be gleaned by mortal minds. A mistake, in retrospect, for the disappearance of the Prince was but a prelude to the vanishing of his currency.


    A disappearance which also marked the end of Lennox''s time in Mercantis.


    His plan was reckless.


    Mauricius had made fortresses of estates. Striking at his holdings required precision, magic, and desperation in equal measure. But precision had frayed in the hands of those who had turned their backs on revolution, and desperation was the only currency the few that remained had left.


    ¡°Our fields of mercy may lie empty,¡± he announced, ¡°but our rivers of spite run full.¡±


    Yet even as his voice carried over the assembled saboteurs, he felt the weight of empty space in the crowds below. Familiar faces had vanished in recent weeks, and murmurs of mistrust tainted what remained of their unity. The fields of new schemes had perished under Winter''s frost. Many flocked to Mauricius''s cause in the wake of the bread he offered the poor. Even Lennox''s own men hesitated at striking the Merchant Lord now.


    The disappearance of fae coin presented Lennox with an open window. A brief opportunity to turn the people against the Merchant Lords before they realized it was his hands, and not theirs, which had sowed the fields they now reaped.


    ¡°Tonight we claim our vengeance,¡± he declared. ¡°Tonight it is them we cull.¡±


    He brought his hand down in a chopping motion as the strength of his aspect surged through him. He knew their strikes would not go unchallenged. Mauricius¡¯s spies had whispered into too many ears. Many had turned coat.


    Incite.


    A crop of red flashed between the crowd.


    ¡°Their walls are high, their guards are vigilant, but their greed blinds them to the truth. Tonight, we remind them who built this city. Tonight, we strike,¡± he said, the single word carrying over the gathered saboteurs. Torches burned in their hands, flickering shadows across their faces.


    A defiant cheer rose.


    A unified voice against the Merchant Lords.


    It rang quieter than he wished, and yet it rand loud enough.


    Then, the hiss of an arrow.


    The shaft plunged into his eye like a farmer¡¯s spade into frozen earth. He clutched at the shaft as he staggered. Agony seared through his skull like fire spreading through dry fields.


    Ink fled from the page of the world as his Aspect sprung forth unbidden.


    Fade.


    The cheers of his allies morphed into confusion as their faces turned towards him and saw nothing. Lennox ignored the faltering fervour behind him. He ignored the arrow jutting from his eye. He ignored all else as he sprinted down the stairs and passed through the open door.


    Escape.


    He had to escape.


    All else was secondary.


    The Revolution would die without him to whisper it onwards.


    The Revolutionary caught a brief glimpse of a bedraggled red-headed woman in the distance. She''d raised her bow for another shot, but he''d already left, slipping away through the spaces between words on a page.


    Chaos bled across the square as a mob surged forward, shouting curses against the Merchant Lords. Mercenaries under Mauricius¡¯s employ formed a wall of iron and shields, their captain barking orders. ¡°Hold the line!¡± A hatchet carved through a boiled leather helm, tearing its way through the shrieking soldier like a knife through paper.


    Lennox moved through the labyrinth that was the streets of Mercantis like ink spilled across a page. ¡°Stand down!¡± another mercenary roared, but the mob answered with shouts and stones. A woman brandished an empty box, waving it in fury. ¡°This was supposed to tide me through Winter!¡± she screamed, before being shoved back by the butt of a spear.


    Lennox darted past another bloodstained wall, sparing not a glance for either the markings or posters as he ran. Then, a shout. ¡°Don¡¯t care if the street looks empty. That feisty redhead is paying us to blockade it regardless.¡± The Revolutionary slowed as he spotted mercenaries ahead, lining the street from one side to the other. The realization struck: seeing him was unnecessary if they could square him away in a trap.


    Lennox''s heart thundered, blood poured down his face as he turned down a narrow alley that trickled like a stream towards the shores. He stumbled as he almost ran head first into two armoured guards as he stopped onto an open street, then edged through a gap between them. The arrow in his eye pulsed with each step, a constant reminder of his one misstep. He rounded another corner, only for his progress to be stalled by a full blockade.


    A blockade that marched slowly towards him.


    Lennox spun and bolted.


    He reached a narrow bridge spanning one of Mercantis¡¯s canals and found it blocked. A hoarse laugh bubbled at the back of his throat. Not one of these mercenaries had a clue where he stood, and yet still they surrounded him. Lennox glanced over his shoulder. Another group approached, their shadows long and sharp against the cobblestones.


    The ledger was almost balanced.


    But not yet.


    Lennox vaulted over the bridge¡¯s side and plunged into the icy waters below. The icy chill of the river bit deeper than any blade as the currents swept him away to safety. The river spat him out what felt like hours later onto the rotten boards of a neglected dock.


    He let out a choking cough.


    The water had scouring away blood and grime but left the arrow lodged firmly in his eye. He clawed at the dirt with one hand as he tore the shaft free with the other. Blood welled in his mouth as he bit down on a scream.


    The world spun as he forced himself to his feet. Mercantis¡¯s docks were a hive of activity, even this late into the night. He stumbled beneath his Aspect towards a battered galleon with Atalante''s flag hoisted proud into the sky.


    Lennox floated among the crew like a forgotten ghost. He slipped into the hold where barrels of dried fish and crates of salted meat lay stacked like forgotten tomes, and settled into a corner, wrapping himself in a ragged cloth to stave off the cold.


    An ember of rage nestled deep within the Revolutionary''s chest as the ship set off come dawn.


    Not a total defeat, but not a victory either.


    If fate saw fit to meddle with his plans, then fate could face the fires as well.


    <hr>


    The steps spiralled upward like the ambitions of a lesser Merchant Lord¡ªnarrow, uneven, and always threatening to collapse under pressure. Mauricius wiped sweat from his brow as he ascended without hesitation, his polished boots clinking against the stone like coins in one of his many coffers.


    Songbird fingered the bow over her shoulder as she followed behind him. Five months since she''d first arrived, and she was still garbed in that affront of a coat. Mauricius''s lips puckered at even the thought of it.


    The iron-bound wooden door to the Apprentice Salesman¡¯s cell came into view ahead. Mauricius''s lips curled into a frown. The Merchant Prince didn''t appreciate coins left unaccounted for. The Revolutionary had escaped from Mercantis and Mauricius wished to determine if the Apprentice Salesman knew where he might''ve gone.


    ¡°Appropriate, don¡¯t you think?¡± Mauricius asked, his voice soft, almost conversational. He gestured toward the door with an elegant sweep of his hand. ¡°The man who trapped so many others finds himself trapped in turn.¡±


    "There''s some humour in it," Songbird agreed, tilting her head and listening.


    He''d come to realize that she always listened. A useful trait, though it bordered on unnerving.


    The hinges creaked like an old merchant tallying debts long overdue as Mauricius opened the door. The room was sparse¡ªno more than a cot, a desk, and a narrow window barred against escape. At least, it had been barred.


    Sheets tied into an impromptu rope swayed gently in the breeze.


    Mauricius stilled.


    ¡°I believe,¡± he said, anger masked behind a mask of civility, ¡°that we now have two rats to drown.¡±


    Songbird moved to the window. She leaned out, her bow already in hand. Mauricius joined her. Both of them peered into the distance. A faint figure in a white shirt scrambled across the tiled rooftops below. Mauricius''s lips puckered.


    The Apprentice Salesman.


    "Rat''s not gone yet," Songbird commented.


    ¡°Your aim had best be as sharp as your tongue.¡± Mauricius murmured, stepping back to allow her space. ¡°I would hate for this to end messily.¡±


    "Suppose I could tie up this loose end," she replied.


    She drew her bowstring back in one fluid motion and released.


    The arrow flew.


    The Apprentice Salesman stumbled mid-stride, the shaft buried itself between his shoulder blades.


    Another followed and carved its way through his skull.


    He let out an anguished wail and crumpled, then crawled forward as he fell to his knees.


    A third arrow carved through the trickster''s heart.


    Songbird lowered her bow.


    Mauricius folded his hands behind his back as he considered his next move. The vote was in. He''d claimed the title of Merchant Prince despite his promise of reform. His position was more tenuous than it had been before the murder of two Praesi sorcerers, but he wasn¡¯t overly concerned. Reconstructions were already proceeding in the aftermath of the failed rebellion, and the sentiment among the population was more positive than not. It came as no surprise that Malicia had shown strong interest in doubling down on his token scheme. After all, it gave her more threads to wield in her hidden war against Cordelia Hasenbach.


    It would take some time to weed out the last rotten influence of the Revolution.


    Already, he¡¯d had to uphold several insurance claims made against lost tokens. That wasn¡¯t even the worst of it, either. Mauricius grimaced. Opening his coffers to the dregs of the street to combat the disappearance of fae coin felt like a betrayal of his own truths, and yet with time he''d reap the investment back in full.


    Besides, offers from both Procer and Praes had already found their way to his door.


    ¡°You do make an impression,¡± Mauricius said. He turned to her. ¡°It strikes me as curious, though¡ªhow a woman aligned with the House of Light reconciles her past with her present. They are, shall we say, at odds.¡±


    Songbird¡¯s lips curled into a faint smile, though her eyes remained distant, fixed on the horizon.


    "Are they?" she challenged.


    "Come now," Mauricius replied. "There''s a stark difference between assassinations, courtly intrigue and service to the church."


    ¡°What¡¯s the difference between the truth and a Hallow Mask,¡± she whispered, ¡°when the mask is all you¡¯ve known?¡±

 Interregnum 8.04

    ¡°Every plan fails at the first blow. Therefore, the general who plans only failure cannot falter.¡±


    ¡ª Isabella the Mad, Proceran general


    <hr>


    The air felt strangely hot for a day with snow crunching under Pony¡¯s hooves. Frosted breaths hung in the air, and the horizon gleamed redder than any Winter sunset had a right to. Ominous? Probably. Something to worry about right now? It wasn¡¯t high on my list of stabbing priorities.


    I tugged at the hem of my armour¡¯s dress as Pony picked her way between the trees. Wearing dresses and silks was already a recent concession to practicality¡ªor so I told myself¡ªbut elegant armour? That was still a novelty.


    The Sahelians, of course, had spared no expense. Tailored, polished, and impractical enough to make me feel like the world¡¯s deadliest peacock. Lacquered steel scales overlapped in what was apparently an ancient Taghreb style, though I was dubious of the historical authenticity of that claim. Surely they didn¡¯t decorate their armour like this? Either way, my split skirt made riding an exercise in frustration it hadn¡¯t been in plain armour. The helmet was rounded and almost practical, wrapped in a scale aventail that I¡¯d draped with a red silk shawl. All of this came together to conveniently leave my face visible, so everyone would know exactly who to aim at. I was a walking beacon fire, the perfect target for any ambitious archer.


    At least my boots were comfortable.


    ¡°I¡¯ve half a mind to hang the fool who suggested marching through the night,¡± I muttered.


    ¡°If I recall correctly, wasn¡¯t that brilliant notion yours?¡± Akua mused, arching an elegant eyebrow. I kept my eyes locked on the road ahead, rather than on the red and gold dress which hugged all her curves.


    ¡°We are so close, Akua,¡± I grumbled, ¡°It seemed inspired at the time.¡±


    Abigail snorted on my right.


    ¡°Oh, undoubtedly, Catherine. I¡¯m certain it seemed inspired in the moment,¡± Akua lied.


    ¡°Have the matrons budged, or are they still waiting to pounce after everyone¡¯s exhausted?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Regrettably, we¡¯ve heard nothing further,¡± Akua denied.


    Negotiating with the matrons before leaving for Callow had been as fruitful as I¡¯d expected¡ªwhich is to say, not at all. A pity,¡± I muttered, ¡°though hardly surprising.¡±


    ¡°The matrons will wait until the dish is properly spiced,¡± Akua agreed, smiling.


    ¡°Hoping they''d tip their hand first was asking too much,¡± I replied, matching her smile. ¡°They¡¯ll wait until half the empire is armed to slit throats.¡±


    ¡°Better watch your back, Lady Akua,¡± Ghassan said slyly. ¡°With how the Novice has been making eyes at you, I¡¯d expect the first assassination attempt sometime soon.¡±


    My teeth dug into my cheek as warmth crept up my neck in spite of winter¡¯s cold. Praesi. Only they could treat assassination as a declaration of courtship.


    ¡°Careful, Ghassan,¡± I drawled, ¡°it¡¯d be a shame if an attempt on your life conveniently pointed to Nok¡¯s high seat.¡±


    The obnoxious man let out a choked cough.


    ¡°Now, consider that-¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s stick to strategy, shall we?¡± I suggested. ¡°That is, after all, your only expertise.¡±


    Akua let out a delighted laugh.


    My cheeks warmed.


    I let the conversation slide into the background as I nudged Pony ahead, the trees closing in around us. I glanced around as her nostrils flared, and her ears flattened against her skull. The narrow pass between the hills ahead felt more like walking into the maw of some great beast than a battlefield. Fifty soldiers across at best, and we¡¯d be stuck like a pig on a spit if the Tyrant decided to bottle us in. And yet, I couldn¡¯t spot anything off.


    Abigail clung to my side, much like the part of my conscience I¡¯d been doing my best to ignore.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking distracted,¡± I said.


    ¡°Just appreciating how much nicer this is than the wasteland,¡± she mused.


    ¡°You mean how not everything is trying to kill us,¡± I quipped.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not get crazy,¡± Abigail snorted, then coughed. ¡°There¡¯s still plenty that wants to kill us.¡±


    Her cough had me tensing before I could help myself. ¡°How bad is it, Abby?¡± I asked softly.


    Abigail swallowed hard, her shoulders stiffening as she glanced at me. ¡°A day, maybe two, before it gets real bad,¡± she paused. ¡°We could still leave, you know.¡±


    An awkward silence fell between us for a few moments while I considered what to say.


    ¡°Can we, though?¡± I asked.


    Abigail was about to reply when Teresa rode up, looking as gruff as ever. If she was here, it meant something had gone wrong. The woman had a talent for finding problems that exceeded my own.


    ¡°Lady Novice,¡± she grunted.


    ¡°Whose pulling knives this time, Teresa?¡± I inquired.


    Her lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost. The list of things she¡¯d bothered me with ranged from drunken brawls to someone deciding that three wheels on a wagon were a good idea. What would it be today?


    ¡°The men are getting rowdy. Weather¡¯s shit and there¡¯s been slim pickings. Are you sure we can¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°No looting, Teresa,¡± I cut her off. ¡°They¡¯re being paid enough. Anyone who tests me hangs.¡± The back of my neck prickled as I felt the judgement of two golden eyes. Was she disappointed? No, not important. I wasn¡¯t about to burn my own homeland for little more than an empty smile.


    ¡°Scouts spotted the Regicides on our southern flank,¡± Teresa added, switching topics with the grace of a drunk on a tightrope. ¡°There¡¯s mention of the Squire being present as well. Orders?¡±


    William was present? Expected, and not unwelcome. This was an opportunity to speak to him away from the trappings of court. A chance to see if he could be an ally, or if we were doomed to fight each other.


    ¡°Coordinate with Marchford,¡± I ordered. ¡°Get ready to-¡±


    <hr>


    A sleepy guard resting on a stool beside the weathered stone walls of a modest temple roused to wakefulness as an anguished cry echoed from outside. Reaching for the sword at his side, he stumbled to his feet, only to stagger as an arrow took him in the throat.


    The rustle of mail and the clinking of steel on stone heralded the arrival of a single company of Helikean soldiers. They marched in unison into the empty church, then stopped before a large standard plunged into the ground, pitch black, with a golden snake swallowing its own tail embroidered into the cloth.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± A dark haired soldier asked, approaching the chalk circle inscribed around the banner.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know,¡± a deep voice replied. ¡°Think we should leave it alone.¡±


    ¡°Looks important. Better to show it to the higher ups,¡± the first argued.


    ¡°This thing feels off,¡± the second muttered.


    ¡°More reasons to tell someone,¡± the first declared.


    ¡°Better to leave it alone,¡± the second said, shuddering.


    ¡°What happens if I-¡± the first soldier¡¯s voice cut off as his friend pulled him backwards.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go closer,¡± the second soldier hissed. ¡°That looks warded to the hells and back, and we don¡¯t know what it does.¡±


    The erratic sound of a limp announced the arrival of a boy dressed in red and gold silks. Both soldiers went stiff as a pair of tombstones, then stared at him in open awe. The boy twirled a golden sceptre as he set a malevolent red eye upon the banner and grinned. ¡°Well, well, well: our drunken friend didn¡¯t lie,¡± he laughed, then spoke to a marble Gargoyle beside him. ¡°How about that, Tay-¡±


    <hr>


    I blinked away the vision. My blood ran cold. That banner? I¡¯d recognized it from some of the more quintessentially Praesi lessons I¡¯d been tortured with by my hosts. One of Triumphant¡¯s old banners. It could only mean one thing: a Hell Egg. Demons. That someone had told the Tyrant where to find it was lower on my list of priorities. Something that future Catherine could brood over after we¡¯d pulled through.


    ¡°Soldiers,¡± I gasped as the vision ended. ¡°They¡¯ve walked right into a-¡±


    My voice cut off as a muted scream reverberated throughout Creation.


    Louder.


    Louder.


    Louder still.


    The sound of thousands of soldiers collapsing into the snow echoed across the hills of Marchford. We all clutched our ears in agony. I looked over Pony¡¯s sleek black mane through tears of pain and into the sky above. A streak of blood ran across the horizon, painting the world red from one end to the other.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Then, the pressure vanished like a veil lifted from a corpse.


    ¡°You feel that too?¡± I hissed.


    Akua raised a delicate finger and opened her mouth, before her words were stolen from her mouth by a choked scream among the troops.


    ¡°To arms, godsdamnit!¡± I screamed, but I was too late.


    The first sign was the trees.


    They didn¡¯t fall or burn. They¡­ changed. Branches swelled like lungs as bark peeled away to reveal veins pulsing with dark ichor. Teresa was too close. Boughs twisted and reached towards her as she barked orders to my troops. Shadows spilled from my outstretched fingers, snapping like a whip against the branches just before they grazed her armour. Teresa stumbled back, cursing, her face pale as death itself.


    ¡°Get moving!¡± I snarled. She pulled herself to her feet, then looked at me like she was seeing a monster. Maybe she wasn¡¯t wrong. I cursed a moment later as roots erupted from the ground, writhing like snakes to drag soldiers into the earth. I tugged at the shadows and hurled them at the trees, only for them to slip from my control. My fists beat against my legs as the men screamed.


    Down.


    Down.


    Down again.


    They scrambled, but it was futile. One by one, the roots pulled them pulled under. Their dying screams swallowed as soil sucked them under.


    Why here? Why now? Each attempt to buy Abigail time had both weakened my Name and eroded my control. I swallowed my fury. There was no use blaming anyone except the Tyrant for this. It was beyond us. I pulled the knife from the sheath on my leg and ran it down the length of my palm. It had been some time since I¡¯d needed to do this, but demons were truly the best form of encouragement. I¡¯d rather not risk any half measures against a horror like this.


    I called, and my dark beasts answered, raking through the branches with claws of shadow. Threads of flame spun from Akua¡¯s fingertips, wrapping themselves around the writhing wood. The snow beneath hissed and spat in protest.


    ¡°What in all the Hells is this?¡± Abigail hissed, struggling with her helmet. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I just stay in Summerholm? Stupid, stupid!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them touch you!¡± I snapped, twisting in the saddle. The snow was turning into slush beneath Pony¡¯s hooves as I shouted orders. ¡°Shields up, fall back in order! Archers, shoot anything coming from the north¡ªI don¡¯t care what colours it¡¯s flying!¡±


    Ghassan galloped off to manage his own men. Teresa was already relaying my orders, though I was betting discipline would crumble the moment fear turned into full-on panic.


    The ground trembled, sending a shudder through me as twisted creatures charged our northern flank. Lions with six legs. Boars with scales. Deer¡ªwell, three-headed deer. A part of me noted I¡¯d seen stranger monsters in Aksum. Then another part of me laughed at the absurdity. Shadows swarmed at my call, biting into the oncoming horde.


    Then came the rancid stench.


    Soldiers closest to the corrupted beasts clawed at their throats, their skin bubbling as their bodies twisted into grotesque shapes. A young man who couldn¡¯t have been older than twenty turned to look at me and screamed as his face mutated into a patchwork of scales and bone.


    The sound that came out was wrong.


    Like the scraping of steel against glass.


    My stomach twisted, but I swallowed it down.


    ¡°A demon, undoubtedly,¡± Akua murmured. ¡°But what kind, I wonder?¡±


    She opened her mouth to continue, but a sudden choked scream interrupted her, followed by the thumping of hooves as her mount bolted. Akua¡¯s golden eyes swept the battlefield with a diabolist¡¯s efficiency, her dress not even a little worse for wear as she gracefully rolled from the fall.


    ¡°That much was obvious,¡± I bit out, shadows flickering at my feet as I tore through another misshapen tree limb grasping towards our flanks. Arrows drove an apelike monstrosity away from the north, before two more hurled themselves against a mercenary shield wall.


    ¡°Summoned forth by the Tyrant, perhaps?¡± she replied, her brow furrowing. ¡°No, I doubt he has the necessary talent at his beck and call. One of Triumphant¡¯s Hell Eggs. Madness, or Corruption. The latter, I think.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the expert,¡± I snapped. ¡°If anyone can fix this mess, it¡¯s you, Akua.¡±


    ¡°Fix a demon? Oh, Catherine, if only it were so simple,¡± Akua purred. ¡°There are no heroes among us, and someone ¡ª likely a provincial imbecile ¡ª has loosed a Hell Egg. Finding the banner remains our only recourse,¡± she said, raising a hand to summon forth another sphere of flames. She hurled it toward a cluster of corrupted soldiers, incinerating them before they could spread further. ¡°Not an easy task, I assure you.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t taming demons and flying fortresses an art to you?¡± I challenged.


    My gut churned as another rank of mercenaries buckled and warped. The corrupted animals surged towards us again, their twisted forms moving faster than a normal eye could follow. One of them ¡ª what was left of a bear, judging by its mishappen shape ¡ª lunged toward my side.


    Tenebrous clouds reacted before I could, swatting the creature away with the kind of disdain that the Sahelians reserved for everything except their own reflection.


    Not you, though. You¡¯re a good little abomination.


    I ignored the voice as I caught sight of another branch swerving towards a line of fantassins. My shadows twitched in anticipation. I tightened my grip on the reins, my knuckles going white. A curse slipped out as the shadows wrested themselves from my control. They lashed out in a fit of rebellious spite, slicing through a line of mercenaries. Then another. And another. These weren¡¯t corrupted. These were mine.


    And now they were dead.


    ¡°No!¡± I snarled, struggling to regain control. Darkness recoiled like an unruly cat, but the damage had already been done. At least two dozen soldiers lay dead in the snow, their blood steaming in the frigid air. My chest tightened. I needed to focus. Now wasn¡¯t the time for tears. They could come later.


    ¡°We should push forward,¡± Abigail insisted. ¡°Warlock¡¯s supposed to be in Marchford, right?¡±


    I bit my lip as I considered her words. There was merit to the idea. I didn¡¯t know of any villains who could solve this problem, but I¡¯d bet on the man who rained hell upon Summerholm before anyone else.


    ¡°An hour to Marchford, Catherine,¡± Akua noted as if commenting on the weather and not a budding catastrophe, ¡°though the demon will make short work of us before we ever reach its gates.¡±


    Abigail glared mutinously at Akua, only to let out a hacking cough. My eyes darted from one to the other. Whose advice should I listen to?


    Teresa¡¯s voice cut through my deliberation. ¡°We¡¯re losing the northern flank, Catherine! If we don¡¯t move now, they¡¯ll blockade the road behind us!¡±


    I twisted in the saddle and examined that part of the battlefield again.


    A chill ran down my spine.


    She was right. Those corrupted by the demon were closing in, their malformed bodies cutting off the road behind us. Akua was right, I wasn¡¯t about to order our force to charge forward without knowing what lay ahead. Which left what? My thoughts became tangled in a labyrinthine web. What did I even have? Certainly not a hero. First Liesse, then Summerholm. They only ever showed up when they wanted to burn some place down.


    Determination lined Akua¡¯s face as she chanted under her breath. The mercenaries broke ¡ª because of course they couldn¡¯t stick around in the face of an actual fight ¡ª slipping on the melting snow as they charged back along the road. I sneered, ¡°Any deserters caught will be strung up by dawn!¡±


    A bearded veteran dropped his shield, his wide eyes fixed on the warped faces of our foes. ¡°I can¡¯t fight them,¡± he stammered, stumbling away from his former friends.


    ¡°Fight, or you¡¯ll look like that come dawn,¡± Teresa snarled, then drove her knee into his gut when he didn¡¯t move. His hands shook as he reached for the shield, but he listened to what she said. They always did.


    I scowled.


    ¡°Threats, Catherine, lose their weight when the enemy inspires greater terror than you do,¡± Akua observed fondly.


    ¡°Here, on my horse,¡± I said, offering her a hand up. She took it without hesitation. I was keenly aware of her warmth as she slid into the space before me.


    The shattering of clay balls took everyone by surprise. What now? What else had gone wrong? Green flames erupted along the northern edges of the battlefield, consuming everything in their path. I breathed out a sigh. Goblins had arrived, their gleeful cackles audible even over the mounting turmoil.


    I glanced right. There was no mistaking that red paint around their throats. The Ninth Legion. Under different circumstances, I might¡¯ve cursed their presence. Today? I¡¯d take whatever help I could get.


    ¡°Move, damn it!¡± I bellowed, spurring Pony forward. ¡°Retreat in order! Teresa, keep them moving¡ªstragglers die where they stand!¡± A pale faced man stumbled as the line shifted. He cast a desperate glance over his shoulder and met my eyes for a fraction of a second. That was enough. He scrambled back into place.


    Sigils formed in the air before me as Akua chanted. I leaned to the side and squinted around them. The mercenaries slowed and did their best to form up into ranks. Abigail trembled as emerald flames surged to our left. I didn¡¯t know if the conflagration could do anything against demons, but it did buy us seconds against the fresh wave of nightmares approaching.


    I felt the pressure of the knife at our collective throats, the sands of the hourglass running dry. My head became fuzzy as blood dripped from my palm. I gripped Pony¡¯s reins tighter in one hand and the knife in the other. We were almost at the mouth of the valley when another wave of corrupted creatures emerged from the hillside. My stomach sank as a line of green flames burned away our exit, because of course there wasn¡¯t enough going wrong.


    ¡°Forward!¡± I shouted, though I doubted anyone heard over the sounds of combat. It didn¡¯t matter. The waves of heat from the goblinfire were enough to send everyone scrambling forward. Forward to Marchford, whether they liked it or not. Anyone who disagreed could voice their complaints to the demon. I said nothing as the ranks broke again.


    Akua was also right about this.


    Nobody could browbeat hired sellswords into holding their ground against this kind of enemy.


    Malformed willows flanking the road ahead of us twisted, writhed, then morphed into a gargantuan, hulking, abomination. Swollen heads extended from branches, blood leaked from now scaled bark, claws stretched from leaves. My shadows splashed harmlessly against a hand the size of a small house as it crashed into a cluster of mercenaries. Over a dozen soldiers, pancaked in an instant.


    ¡°Infantry, fall back!¡± I shouted. ¡°Archers, oil your arrows¡ªpretend the thing¡¯s a boss who hasn¡¯t paid you in three months!¡±


    The abomination lunged again, raking through shields as if they weren¡¯t there at all. Men scattered. One of the soldiers tripped, landing hard on the snow. He clawed at the ground as the thing¡¯s shadow fell over him. A pair of clay balls towards struck against the branches, the hiss of green fire masking the soldier¡¯s terrified sobbing.


    ¡°You¡¯ll die when I say you can,¡± Teresa barked, yanking him to his feet. ¡°And not a moment sooner.¡±


    The now flaming monstrosity took another pass at some of my men. I snarled as my vision swam, pulling hard against the darkness and concentrated it around the monstrosity. An umbral whirlwind swirled around the arboreal nightmare, pulling loose boulders and smashing them against its hardened hide. The ground trembled as roots pulled loose from the soil, tearing through another line of men on course with us.


    Clay balls hurtled towards the monstrosity, only to be grabbed from the air by sharpened claws and hurled back at the perpetrators. Black smoke obscured the sky as another line of green erupted, this time to the south.


    ¡°Maceris, lord of ruin, devourer of flesh,¡± Akua¡¯s voice echoed across the valley as she spoke, ¡°By the blood I have taken, by the suffering I have sown, I call upon you.¡±


    The sigils surrounding Akua snapped into place as she pointed towards the monstrosity before us.


    ¡°Contracts were made, debts incurred,¡± she continued. ¡°My grasp holds even the emptiness of the void. From the hells you have come; to the hells you will return. Kiss the world with hunger.¡±


    I shivered as the sound of millions of invisible locusts thrummed through the air. Layer after layer of the corrupted creature peeled away. First the scales, then the sap, then whatever horrid fleshy stuff was hidden underneath. An aeon¡¯s worth of spite consumed the monster in moments, leaving nothing but a husk on the road.


    ¡°Not over. Not yet,¡± I muttered, gripping Pony¡¯s reins tighter as the battle surged around us.


    ¡°It won¡¯t end until we claim the banner,¡± Akua panted as we charged past the hollowed out remains.


    ¡°How many more delightful horrors do you have hidden up your sleeve?¡± I asked, shivering.


    A part of me questioned at what point I¡¯d started considering contracts with devils an acceptable method of problem-solving, but that part got boxed and set aside for careful examination later. As far as I was concerned, anything was acceptable when dealing with demons. We could leave worrying about the sanctity of my soul to the nuns.


    ¡°Not nearly as many as I¡¯d prefer,¡± Akua admitted, ¡°but I¡¯m nothing if not resourceful.¡±


    Blood dripped from my palm to the ground.


    I stared into the darkness ahead.


    How many more of those monstrosities awaited us?


    The night, after all, had only just begun.

 Interregnum 8.05

    ¡°Diabolism is only dangerous if the summoners are-¡±


    ¡ª Dread Empress Sinistra IV, the Erroneous


    <hr>


    Drip.


    The night pressed in on us like a guild master spotting an unlicensed street vendor, relentless and entirely too personal. The snow beneath the soldiers¡¯ boots crunched with every hurried step, a sound that might have been comforting if not for the green flames dancing with the blood-red sky behind us. Another nightmare willow whipped at us with its branches, sending soldiers sprawling as it scythed through the ranks. Shadows slithered across the snow and neatly decapitated a feathery, tentacled abomination slinking from between the northern trees. Really, couldn¡¯t Aksum keep their pets to themselves?


    Screams ate at the darkness.


    A fresh barrage of clay balls soared overhead, crashing into the northern countryside with a sound that rumbled through the ground¡ªa sound a little too familiar, if I was being honest. Like my stomach back on the streets of Laure, loud enough that I once convinced someone it was an angry stray just to make off with their bread. The vibrations deepened, a slow crescendo that echoed through the road ahead. Shadows began to buzz like a hornet¡¯s nest on the warpath as another corrupted monstrosity¡ªa bear-like thing with lanterns for eyes¡ªtore free from the ground in a spray of dirt and malice.


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, I¡¯m gaining a grudging respect for invisible tiger armies,¡± I muttered. ¡°At least they had the decency not to slime the hills of Marchford.¡±


    The monstrosity bounced toward us, tentacle paws trailing goo that hissed as it hit the snow. It might have been funny if we weren¡¯t its meal of choice. Not quite as amusing as watching Praesi bureaucrats skitter along a lard-coated road, but still.


    Ahead, the infantry braced, their shields forming a ragged line just off the road as the creature encroached. Shadows hugged my shoulders, pleading to be unleashed. Tempting, but experience had taught me that using them in situations like this was an excellent way to add another hundred men to the casualty lists. My Name chose the most useful moments to be utterly useless to me. Wager declined, I turned to Teresa, who was barking orders as the infantry flanked us.


    ¡°Infantry,¡± Teresa shouted, ¡°Dr-¡±


    ¡°Pull back, now!¡± Akua¡¯s announced, her lips pressed into a line. I shivered as the warmth of her hands settled atop my own. ¡°Unless you¡¯d rather die proving your valour.¡±


    ¡°Run like a demon¡¯s behind you,¡± Teresa ordered, ¡°because there damned well is one!¡±


    And run they did. The soldiers carved a parallel line through the snow, scattering faster than I¡¯d seen starving kids in Laure tear through a month-old loaf. Impressive, really. Who knew grown men could run that fast when properly motivated?


    Akua¡¯s voice dipped into a murmur as she began chanting under her breath. I nudged Pony forward and jerked my head just in time to avoid the jagged thorns that sliced through the air toward us. Blood¡ªmine, I think¡ªsplattered into the snow. With a flick of my hand, shadows unfurled like eager dogs, shredding a cluster of flying porcupines into grotesque ribbons. It might have been satisfying if I could focus on it for more than a heartbeat.


    Drip.


    Darkness lapped at the edges of my vision, like the creeping haze of too much wine¡ªor one of Tesia Sahelian¡¯s lectures on Praesi taxation laws. Both were equally deadly, really. My head spun, and the whisper of temptation stirred. My aspect could clear this, I thought. I just needed to Absorb something monstrous and push back the haze. But no. I was enough of a monster already, wasn¡¯t I? Adding demon ichor to the mix felt like one step too far.


    ¡°Aim!¡± a shrill voice called, cutting through the chaos like a knife.


    The screams of soldiers tangled with the howls of too-many-toothed wolves and the crackling limbs of gnarled tree-beasts. Twisted shapes scrambled through the snow, tangling with our flanks as the creak of drawn bowstrings spread across the valley. I caught flashes of mercenaries struggling against horrors, their weapons parting flesh with satisfying rips.


    ¡°Loose!¡± the same voice ordered.


    The hiss of a snake arcing through the air filled the valley, the sound nearly drowned out by the screeches of malformed monsters as they fell. No, not snake, arrows. I shook my head. Patches of red and black filling my sight as my vision swam. Glyphs floated in the air around me¡ªexcept they weren¡¯t glyphs, were they? Snowflakes, maybe. Or thorns. Or nothing at all. Pony craned her neck and narrowly avoided the lash of a tree¡¯s animated branch. I held on to her like a Merchant Lord grasping their last coin.


    The praesi tax collector advanced, its lanterns for eyes pulsing brighter with every slither it took. Akua¡¯s chanting cut off as she snapped her palm toward it. A frigid wind blasted out, shrivelling its lanterns and turning its tentacles into limp, blackened husks. It screeched, its death throes more pathetic than threatening, before collapsing into the snow with a heavy thud.


    ¡°The next wave won¡¯t wait,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s make haste, unless you¡¯d prefer to meet them unprepared.¡±


    I said nothing as she leaned against me. Friendships in Praes, I reminded myself, were mostly a matter of convenience and thinly veiled hostility.


    ¡°Move your asses,¡± my voice slurred, but I forced the words out. ¡°Let''s find a place with better drinks and company.¡±


    Trees blurred, melting into walls. The snow underfoot became marble tiles, red skies shifting into a painted mosaic. My head swam, and my eyelids drooped. Everything was wrong. Wrong.


    Wake up, Catherine. The words reached me as though carried on a breeze, faint but persistent.


    I clawed at the fog dulling my mind, tried to shake it loose like snow from a heavy cloak.


    Tried, and¡­


    If you die, the last words you hear will be me saying I told you so. That grounded me, much like being locked away in a cell had introduced me to the harsh realities of heroism.


    I¡¯ll live forever just to prove you wrong, I thought back. The world wavered, but I latched on to the words like a noose to a throat. Walls became trees, marble tiles became snow, and the crimson sky slid back into place like a shattered mosaic poorly glued together.


    I stared ahead, disoriented.


    Twenty steps.


    We¡¯d moved twenty steps!


    That was it?


    The haze clawed at the edge of my mind, but I wrestled it back. Then the ground split open, and a scaled stinger erupted before us, scattering my thoughts like crumbs on a plate. Pony reared, Akua yelped, and we hit the ground in a tangle of limbs. The stinger slammed down, missing by inches, before twisting into a leering grin as it burrowed into the soil.


    Shadows gleefully tore free of their leash. They ripped into the thing until it was no more than scraps and ichor splattered across the snow.


    I turned my head and winced.


    Pony¡¯s broken body lay sprawled by the road.


    Ahead, another wave of twisted creatures cantered into view.


    Drip.


    The fog seeped in again, dragging me under. My thoughts festered. Demons to the north and east, goblinfire to the west. The poison spread, and I didn¡¯t need the Black Knight¡¯s tactical brilliance to know we were already choking on it.


    ¡°To the south!¡± I ordered, my words dragging from my lips. ¡°We¡¯re pulling off the road.¡±


    ¡°You heard her!¡± Teresa shouted. ¡°Onward to the other fields of Callow. We¡¯re not paid to die a swift death on this one.¡±


    A weak cheer broke through the ranks, the kind that comes when someone promises ale but serves goat¡¯s milk instead. Progress was agonizing. Every hundred paces came at the cost of another soul. Monsters dogged our every step as we forced our way through the snow.


    The world rippled again.


    Trees bent and blurred, stretching into towers, then books, then cups. I stopped trying to make sense of it. My grip on reality was fraying, and every step forward shredded it further. I could do it, a dark part of me whispered. I could use my aspect: not on a corrupted monster, but on an ally instead.


    No.


    We just had to last. To¡­


    To¡­


    Marchford. Marchford was where I could rest. Where I could close my eyes.


    Coolness touched my hand, startling me. I blinked, sluggish and unfocused. A palm. Abigail? No. Too smooth. Akua. Right. Healing. That was something magic could do. Not that it helped with the blood already staining the snow.


    ¡°The snow along that hill looks disturbed,¡± Abigail pointed up the side of a page. ¡°Perhaps Goblins?¡±


    ¡°That way,¡± I murmured. ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s goblins and not another waking nightmare.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll-¡± Her voice cut off as the ground heaved beneath us. Snow rippled like water, ink spilling into the air. The sound of scribbling quills filled my ears, and I ducked as a hissing metal blur¡ªa grotesque blend of a letter opener and a swan¡ªshot past my head.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Instinct took over. Shadows sharpened and lashed out, striking back.


    Thump.


    The lid of a teapot bounced once, then rolled to a stop on the tray.


    Abigail¡¯s woollen horse reared in the corner of my eye as a twenty-legged tablecloth lashed at her. She clung to the reins, much like I clung to the last vestiges of my sanity. I called for my shadows again, but a lanky puppet in plain black armour stepped from the gloom.


    Black strings? William. It had to be.


    His sword flashed, slicing through knitted legs one after another. A line of steaming cups¡ªno, goblins, not cups¡ªflanked him to either side. His blade struck true, again and again, until the beast collapsed into a lifeless heap.


    ¡°William,¡± I mumbled, ¡°if you¡¯re done grandstanding, we¡¯ve got a demon to deal with. We ne-¡±


    ¡°You will keep your troops away from ours,¡± he snapped, cutting me off like it was his duty to be as insufferable as possible.


    His ship sailed parallel to ours¡ªwait, ships? No, not ships. Marching columns. Or maybe trees. The ninth¡ªthat much I was certain of¡ªmoved in behind him. More cries rang out as something glittered to the side. A flying fish with iridescent scales vaulted over an imagined railing, snapping at sailors who weren¡¯t there, before its head was neatly severed by a sword that probably was.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± I croaked, my bloody palm tightening around the hilt of my blade. Shadows coalesced into a spear in my other hand, and before I could think better of it, I hurled it at a hovering jellyfish that was¡ªoh, no, not jellyfish. Birds. Definitely birds. And absolutely dissolving someone. My crew? My thoughts tripped over themselves as the spear tore through its target.


    Fine. So long as the corrupted thing was dead, we were fine.


    ¡°Catherine Foundling,¡±  a dry voice called out from somewhere below. ¡°Akua Sahelian. I know exactly who you two are.¡±


    I squinted, struggling to pin the voice to something solid. A goblin, yes. Deep yellow eyes, skin like old parchment, and a thin red line painted along her neck. Marshal Ranker. Of course. I spent a humiliating amount of time piecing that together as she raised her arm and barked out an order. Clay spheres arced through the air moments later.


    Heat shimmered as green fire erupted around us, cutting the sky apart.


    ¡°Marshal Ranker,¡± Akua greeted smoothly, not missing a beat as she hurled a fireball at something blistered and writhing. ¡°Allow us to add our forces to yours. A demon is loose in Marchford¡¯s hills.¡±


    ¡°Way I see it,¡± the goblin continued, raising her hand again and ignoring Akua, ¡°you old breed of villains are all the same. You¡¯d find an opportunity to knife us in the back. There¡¯s no proof you didn¡¯t set this demon free on your own.¡±


    I tried to laugh, but it came out as a ragged cough. Me? Summoning demons? A Callowan girl? Sure, the armor and my current associations painted a picture, but it was the kind of story only a Praesi could buy. Callow¡¯s Named didn¡¯t bother with demons, likely on account of our Named being less inclined to monologue. Really, I hadn¡¯t even had the chance to do that yet, either. You¡¯d think they¡¯d realize I was a mite opposed to marching demons across the continent, considering I¡¯d only dipped my toes into the lake of Evil and not dived right in.


    ¡°We played no part in this, I assure you,¡± Akua said, her poise unshaken even as the ground trembled beneath her feet. She turned a stumble into an elegant recovery with a fluidity that made me wonder if she practised even her mistakes, brushing the hem of her dress.


    The back of my neck prickled as black specks blotted out the crimson above. Oh, crimson? Well, the sky was back, at least. Malignant crows cawed as they dropped into the ranks, their claws raking at mercenaries who screamed and twisted in agony. A net of darkness spread from my fingers, shredding a cluster of birds mid-flight. Another murder rose from the distant trees, and I cursed under my breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure,¡± the goblin said, her tone bone-dry, ¡°but I¡¯ll see to my men¡¯s safety regardless.¡±


    She barked an order, and bolts streaked through the sky, tearing into the flock. Teresa picked up the call, and a hail of arrows followed close behind.


    ¡°Soldiers are dying, and all you¡ª¡± I growled, stepping forward.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been threatened by scarier Names than you,¡± she interrupted. ¡°I considered ordering my troops to drown your little crew in goblinfire. Save Amadeus the trouble of putting you down himself. Keep your distance, Novice, lest you touch something that burns.¡±


    Threats. Now. Of course. Because soldiers dying and a loose demon weren¡¯t enough to deal with. Eldritch tendrils rippled around me as I took a step toward her. Ranker smiled as she raised two fingers to her lips, and I tensed. Another step.


    Akua¡¯s hand closed around mine, her grip firm despite the blood slicking my skin.


    I froze.


    ¡°You won¡¯t survive if you do that,¡± I said.


    ¡°No,¡± Ranker agreed, with a sharp, humorless grin, ¡°but neither would you.¡±


    I pushed aside my exhaustion and peered deep into her eyes.


    I caught a glimpse of something cold and ugly. The same look I¡¯d seen in the eyes of the Reluctant Strategist as I¡¯d taken her life all those many years ago. Years ago? No, only months. Forget the past. Now was what counted. Ranker would do it. She¡¯d throw away her own life, so long as it kept us out of stabbing range.


    Summerholm grasped tight in green fingers rose unbidden from memory.


    I drowned it in other nightmares instead.


    ¡°And what about you, William?¡± I asked, attention drifting to the boy on strings. ¡°Fine with sitting back and letting us die?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± the Squire muttered, his eyes darting away. ¡°It¡¯s an opportunity for you to betray us.¡±


    I shared a glance of collective disdain with the pure hearted maiden beside me. What had the Calamities taught him about Praesi politics? To think, that he¡¯d assume I¡¯d resort to such a pedestrian plot while simultaneously assuming I¡¯d let a demon loose. A true Praesi betrayal wouldn¡¯t be anything so obvious. No, political deaths were arranged by poison. Personalized murders were for friends and family.


    Dipping her toes in the water, she says, the voice added.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like you enough to kill you with anything other than poison,¡± I mused.


    ¡°All the same,¡± the Squire dismissed, ¡°I don¡¯t want you close.¡±


    ¡°He feels safer with someone else between him and the demon,¡± Akua drawled.


    ¡°So the mistress has some claws as well? Not just leaving this to your-¡±


    Her words ended in a hiss of breath as a dragon surged out of the clouds below us. William moved first, blade flashing in a series of precise strikes¡ªone, two, three¡ªand scales scattered to the wind.


    Dragons and clouds blurred together as the world twisted. I blinked, fighting the darkness gnawing at my thoughts. My stomach turned as the scene resolved. Not a dragon. A tree. An invisible, gods-damned tree had crept up on us.


    Splinters rained down, exploding on impact. Soldiers screamed as aberrant vines slithered over their armour, twisting it into grotesque growths. Men gurgled and lurched as the corruption claimed them, only to turn their blades on their comrades moments later.


    ¡°Cull them!¡± I ordered, swallowing back the deep feeling of helplessness the fight evoked.


    My vision darkened, but I allowed the nightmares no hold.


    The air cracked and screamed as Fasili brought lightning down on the afflicted. Another root erupted from the ground. I ducked beneath an errant vine, then dodged a snapping branch. Shadows twisted of their own accord, wrapping themselves around a trunk and weaving through the bark.


    BAn ape-like creature howled, its cry sharp enough to draw blood from soldiers¡¯ ears. I staggered and swung my arm down, shadows tearing another branch free. Goblinfire roared along the edges of the battle as Ranker¡¯s troops burned the corrupted growths, but there were too many. William and the ninth retreated, their blades angled toward us as much as the enemy.


    We stumbled closer to Marchford.


    Closer to nowhere.


    I swore. What could we do? The longer this dragged on, the worse our odds became. Akua had called upon a devil¡¯s contract before. Could she call on one again? ¡°Tell me you¡¯ve got something up your sleeve, Akua, because I¡¯m about two nightmares away from losing it.¡± I declared.


    ¡°We could sacrifice the mercenaries for a temporary contract,¡± she mused, ¡°but the cost would be altogether not worth it in the long term.¡±


    The word no balanced on the edge of my tongue, but I swallowed it. Wasn¡¯t it better for a few to die if it meant the rest of us survived? I¡¯d refused to Absorb any of my soldiers, but¡­ my shoulders sagged. Had I sunk that far?


    Abigail¡¯s accusing eyes pierced my own.


    No. Not yet.


    ¡°I do-,¡± my words were ripped away as another arboreal monstrosity roared its displeasure. Akua and I stumbled, shadows and fire lashing out to carve space between us and the creature¡¯s thrashing limbs.


    ¡°Negotiating a contract mid-battle with a demon is certain to end in our death,¡± Akua declared, apparently under the misapprehension I¡¯d decided to ask her to follow through with it.


    Hysteria bubbled in my throat. Twigs with razor sharp leaves pulled perilously close to my skin, before a wave of shadows hurled the malformed limb away from us. I¡¯d read about what demons could do. Read about how they changed people, destroyed cities, mutated forests, twisting everything they touched into something aberrant. And still, never had I thought I would experience being on the other end.


    Didn¡¯t you say you could teach me to swing a sword? I asked the voice.


    Roots pulled free from the ground and smashed into the ground beside us. Soldiers¡¯ swords dug uselessly through bark, only for it to harden into metallic scales in the heartbeats that followed.


    Now¡¯s hardly the time for a lesson, Catherine, it replied.


    Akua spat an incantation, only for a thunderous detonation to throw her to the ground as another burning branch struck the earth before us.


    ¡°I¡¯m not dying to a demon,¡± I snarled. Shadows sheared away at metal and wood, creating space between us and our foe. I grabbed my friend by her hand and pulled her to her feet. Friend? Yes, friend. What we had counted as friendship in Praes anyhow. It would be my hands, and not poison, that strangled her pretty throat.


    What you want and what reality dictates are not one and the same, the voice replied.


    A bolt of lightning shattered the burning construct, but it wasn¡¯t enough.


    Then the thought struck. Absurd and desperate, but the kind of idea I could only consider with everything going to hell.


    Take the reins. I thought at my parasite. I¡¯m running out of options here.


    Your meaning eludes me, the voice lied.


    Don¡¯t play stupid, I know you followed along. Can you possess my body? I insisted.


    The voice claimed it could swing a sword. Claimed it knew how to be a hero. Somebody who could hold their own against a demon and inspire loyalty among those they commanded. I didn¡¯t like giving up control. The idea terrified me, but¡­ well, a hero was what we needed. A hero, not¡­ somebody like me.


    ¡°I¡¯m not-¡± The voice cut off as another wave of monstrous poultry fell upon us from above. A quilt of darkness rose, only to be torn right through. Because why not? It was a corruption demon. A demon that subverted existence. Of course, it undermined my weapon as well. A flagging wave of arrows cut down many, but far more made it through unharmed.


    I wasn¡¯t about to take a refusal from the voice.


    Not after everything else had gone wrong.


    ¡°Enough¡¯s enough.¡± I declared. ¡°Nightmares have haunted my every step. It¡¯s time that I Haunt them in turn.¡±

 Hiatus warning

    Yesterday, a 30h power outage interrupted my posting schedule. Now, while this is not the first time my posting schedule has been interrupted by something outside my control, it is the first time it''s felt like a break (rather than an annoyance). I promised myself that I''d treat writing as something I do to enjoy myself (and not as a second job), but sometimes it''s hard to draw the distinction between those 2 things because of how much I appreciate routine (If I was a parahuman, I''d be Accord).This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    As a consequence of this, I will be taking a break from WHD. I cannot promise that I will come back to it, only that I did plan out the entire plot of this story, and I''d (hopefully) like to finish it at some point. I won''t be writing anything else during this time, because it is a break from writing and not so much a break from WHD specifically.


    -- Regards: Sharp.