The League of Lesser Evil

The Calamitous Bob

Book Seven

Alex Gilbert

Copyright ©️ Alex Gilbert 2021

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover by:Antti Akosaari

Formatting by:David Morrison

Editing by:David Morrison

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Disclaimer

Acknowledgments

The Story So Far

Chapter 141: The League Conspires

Chapter 142: Administration

Chapter 143: The League Slanders

Chapter 144: Banking with Bob.

The League Steals.

Chapter 145: The League Engages in Casual Terrorism

Chapter 146: The League attempts murder.

Chapter 147: Oh, Neriad, I won’t change.

Chapter 148: Harrak is back

Chapter 149: Economy of Scale

Chapter 150: Important business

Chapter 151: Sovereign meeting

Chapter 152: Coronation

Chapter 153. Extra Diplomatic

Two weeks later.

Two weeks later.

Chapter 154: The Paramese Alliance is in shambles

Chapter 155: Halluria

Chapter 156: The Weavers of Fate

Chapter 157: The War for Param.

Chapter 158: Stand.

Chapter 159: The Swing

Chapter 160: Might of a Continent

Chapter 161: Fraudzilla

Chapter 162: Roaring Harrak.

Glossary

Places:

Races:

People:

Kazar:

Viv’s Crew:

Enoria:

Helock::

Map of Param

Afterword

About the Author

Social Media

Other Books by the Author

Disclaimer

The Calamitous Bob is a web serial published on Royal Road and Patreon under my other pen name, Mecanimus. I like to think that serials are to traditional books what series are to movies, though I might be biased. As a result, you should expect a slower pace. The Calamitous Bob includes violence, racism, sexism, references to sexual violence, and slurs. It is meant for a mature audience.

This is a work of fiction.

Acknowledgments

A book is a group project. I, the author, write down the scenes happening in my head, and then others gently help me make it readable with suggestions and corrections. It starts with helpful and dedicated beta readers. I would like to take a moment to thank them:

JP Koenig, Selkie Myth, Ikelos, Meabhy, for always being there to provide constructive feedback. Readers on Patreon and Royal Road offer more suggestions and often find little discrepancies or continuity errors that might have escaped me. It is also their comments that allow me to fine tune scenes so they provide the expected experience. This fast feedback loop really helps me a lot as a web serial writer. I would struggle a lot more without them.

And now I’d like to thank you, the reader. I can only live from my passion because you decided to support me, so thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy the show, Meatbag!

The Story So Far

The League of Lesser Evil.

The story so far:

Viviane, army medic and rebellious daughter of a politician, has been forcefully sent to the magical world of Nyil by an irresponsible God of Luck. It didn’t start very well, with her being remade at the epicenter of a cataclysm that destroyed the old empire of Harrak. Fortunately, she was ‘lucky’ enough to escape with the help of Solfis, an ancient war golem, and Arthur, a misnamed female dragon whelp.

After some adventures, Viv landed in the border city of Kazar where she mounted a rebellion against the abusive forces of Prince Lancer, potential heir to the throne of nearby Enoria. She won. Now, the freshly resurrected Empire of New Harrak flourishes as the encroaching deadlands are pushed back.

It was still pretty small though, and no match for its neighbors.

Viv’s woes were far from over, however. Her unique connection to black mana was killing her, just as it had given her the power to liberate her new people. The only solution was to journey to the continent’s academy of magic where a solution might be found.

On her way, Viv accidentally ended the Enorian civil war by causing the death of the entire loyalist faction’s leadership. She also met the exile and fallen prince Sidjin, with whom she started a relationship. Sidjin is also the man who designed the teleportation spell and kept the secret so far. Viv learn it from him, intending to develop a portal network across the continent.

Her eventful school year ends with a state tournament to defend the honor of her paramour. A betrayal leads her to the maiming of her young friend Rakan, and the death of the guilty party. It is at this moment that her magic gets out of control.

Fortunately, she had made a pact with the resident Archmage, a powerful man by the name of Elunath.

Unfortunately, the man turned out to be a sociopath offering a slave contract.

Refusing his offer, Viv turned to a desperate gambit: accepting the help of a Lich bent on personal revenge. With his help, she transforms into a part-elemental, capable of wielding the power of black mana without harm. Now there is the matter of helping the Lich take down Elunath, but first, she needs a bit of recovery.

A glossary with character names and factions can be found at the end of the book for your convenience.

Chapter 141: The League Conspires

“I still do not understand why Jack’s death was necessary,” Sidjin grumbled. “Surely there was enough room on that plank for both of them?”

The improvised arcane projector played the Titanic credits, Emeric’s gift lying on a nearby table. Voicing over the entire movie had been a pain but worth it for the moment shared together, Viv decided.

“It’s for narrative reasons. The point is not that the two try their best to save each other, The point is moving the spectator with sacrifice. If his death upsets you then it worked.”

Abanezigel nodded. He had stood for the entire movie which weirded Viv a little but since he didn’t move and kept his mana under control, she could force herself to count him as furniture with some effort.

“The famous catharsis you mentioned, yes, Viviane the traveler. What surprises me is that despite the awesome technology that leads to such vast ships, the death of hundreds could not be prevented.”

“If I remember correctly it was a set of unfortunate  circumstances. The ship was going too fast, it tried to dodge the iceberg instead of ramming it and losing only a few sections, and there were enough boats to save everyone but many left before they were full. Just mistakes upon mistakes.”

“Hmmmm. I see. No amount of magical or technological prowess can make up for human stupidity.”

Viv used her wing to drag the nearby box of grilled meat while resisting the intense urge to sing EEEEEVERY NIGHT IN MY DREAAAAAAM at the top of her lungs. It took a remarkable amount of self-control.

The meat was not quite chicken because the fowl in question was much larger, but it was nice nonetheless. Rakan complained when the bucket slid to the side, preventing him from getting another serving.

“Can’t you use your hands like a normal person?”

“It’s practice. Practice!” Viv lied.

The truth was that the wings had more reach, that is to say, she didn’t have to move to, that is to say, her arms were too damn short. There!

In the month she had spent resting and binging three years worth of top tier TV series, her human body had barely changed. Her wings were now the width of a handspan and long enough to go over her head while the tip touched the ground. It even affected her balance.

So getting used to them was important. Really!

“You’re just grumpy because there was not enough action.”

“I want to watch ‘Rescuing infantryman Ryan’ again.”

Viv rolled her eyes. Voicing over a war movie had proven worse than a romance because she had to explain what a gun was, what a tank was, and how a plane could fly. She also wished Emeric had been more generous with newer works. That filthy god really loved the classics.

//I have concerns that the message of this movie might be insidious.

“Here we go,” Viv moaned in her metaphorical beard.

//The female lead’s fate glorifies infidelity and lowering one’s station by forfeiting an advantageous marriage.

//Thus sacrificing resources and making a powerful enemy.

“It’s a romance!”

//While it would have been more productive to assassinate her husband and keep the street urchin as a paramour.

Viv prepared to complain then stopped.

“Wait, are you advocating for the murder of rich scions?”

//The movie is, as you mentioned, a romance, not a societal study.

//Assuming that my purpose is to maximize the happiness of Rose, the death of a controlling spouse after their financial union represents the best outcome.

//Before you complain, yes I am aware that she is a weak fleshbag without the courage to order a hit.

“Huh.”

Silence returned to the room while most pondered the experience they had been through. Only the grunts of efforts of Rakan wrestling with Viv’s wings for access to the fried not-chicken bucket broke this moment of contemplation. He lost.

Viv considered that there was enough arcane might in that room to devastate a mid-sized city. And they were bantering and eating grilled meat.

Viv found herself missing Arthur.

Their bond had been more active recently. She thought the dragonette missed her as well. At least, she was fine.

“Well, that’s it. I believed you wanted to get started on planning, Abe?”

“Yes, however, the mood precludes it. The cultural content you offered us granted us a unique insight into a civilization whose achievements you take for granted, while we can only marvel at the resourcefulness of those who live without mana. I believe that a change of scenery is required to achieve a full break. I propose that we retire to the boudoir for a cup of klod, whereupon I shall share what I know with you, following which we can come up with more ideas.”

The group agreed, then left the viewing room together. It had been quite busy since Viv’s friends had realized they could now access decent entertainment. Nyil actors may reach someone’s soul with their performance but Earth’s actors had risen to the top of a competitive profession through sheer talent. No amount of effort and magic could out shadow genius. Viv was glad she got to share it with them. It had made the ‘League of Lesser Evils’ a more coherent force.

Abe guided the group through the multiple corridors that crisscrossed his troglodyte base, bypassing libraries filled with ancient tomes and complex ritual rooms. The boudoir benefitted from the best skylight in the base, the glass revealing the crisp sky over the floating Chalice. It was raining today. A pitter patter chime provided a pleasant background while everyone sat in their designated chairs.

No one spoke when Abe warmed the pot of fresh water, nor when he picked his favorite dry klod. Although the Lich could no longer taste food or drinks, it had built an artificial sense of smell for security purposes. Klod remained pleasant and familiar. Viv guessed it helped anchor him in his remaining humanity. His gestures were calm and deliberate, sometimes even a little awkward as he tried to veer away from the automatisms that made using his arms less taxing. Abe was a soul piloting a construct, not a person living in their body. It would be easy to slip into idleness. Use telekinesis for everything.

“Before we begin, I would like to say a word,” the Lich finally began.

“Do we really have to do the whole evil cabal thing?” Viv asked, impatient to get into the meat of the subject.

“Viv. I have been waiting for this moment for three hundred years. Elunath stole everyone I knew, everything I had, and everything I was. Please, please let me have this moment and shut up until I am done.”

The witch lifted her hand in surrender, chastised.

“Good. I am aware that your transformation has shortened your patience, and I appreciate your efforts. I need you to understand why I started because this is what drives me now to linger in this world and also because it will give you an insight into what kind of person Elunath really is, the way he thinks, the way he acts.

“The story starts three hundred years ago. At that time, Helock was technically a free city with an imperial envoy by the name of Jeol. The city was… different then. The immigration from the Shadow Lands was still going strong while Hallurian warbands conducted constant raids. The fiercely defended independence and arrogance of the old family had not reached the level you would see nowadays. Jeol was a de facto provincial governor and we, Elunath and I, served in his cadre. Do you know what a cadre was?”

//A special detachment of battlemages typically accompanying a legion during their expeditions.

//Their role covers battles but also engineering, project management, research, and occasionally diplomacy.

//Although nominally under the orders of the legion commanders, cadres would answer first to the imperial ministry of the arcane.

//It was a prestigious position.

“And one loyal to the throne. All battlemages were trained at the imperial college which gave us a… a shared sense of purpose.”

The lights flickered in the Lich’s empty eye sockets. Viv was not sure how much Abe could feel or if those were emotions at all but the memory clearly upset him.

“One night, we received news that the capital had been lost in a disaster. Everyone was dead for leagues. Fallen where they stood. Elunath and I, we were both Helockians by birth. We volunteered for the assignment which was only tolerated because the cadre was low on earth specialist at that time. It was our friend Jesar who got the message. She told us. She should not have. The shock was too much. We lost many of our friends that night.”

The Lich glanced up and he was no longer in the room with them, lost in his memories.

“It was the end of our world, a true cataclysm without forewarning that shook me to my core. Envoy Jeol only took ten minutes to come to a decision. The empire was a centralized power and now it had been decapitated in a single blow. We knew it would collapse. There could be no other possibility, not with so many nations kept loyal through coercion. So Jeol took us and told us the cadre would move into Helock the very same night, to take over the government and slay the most powerful families in order to safeguard our control. We were to set out immediately and planned on being joined by the nearby legion the next day. Of course, Elunath and I met to talk on the way because those were our compatriots Jeol planned on slaughtering. We came to the conclusion that our best option was to kill Jeol then abscond into the night to warn our people. Without his political acumen, the cadre and legion would be directionless. They would perhaps consider leaving peacefully. Of course, Jeol was not stupid. He had expected our move and we engaged his loyal bodyguard.”

There was a moment of silence then.

“Elunath struck me as I attacked. He shattered my spine. He killed Jesar whom I had convinced to join us. We never stood a chance. After that, Jeol was very impressed by his performance and his loyalty to Harrak and himself. They left while I feigned death which was not a very difficult thing to do. Anger needled me so much… I traced the circle by crawling inch by inch with the only hand I could still move. Every movement sent searing knives into every fragment of my broken body. It was… excruciating. But he had to die.

“Only later did I learn that Elunath betrayed Jeol at the gates, had him murdered and climbed to the top of the Helockian hierarchy immediately after the ensuing battle. He was hailed as a hero. My family were driven out as relatives to a traitor. I never found them again.

“Elunath has never been a hero. He has always been an opportunist. The most important thing to Elunath is Elunath. He will go to any length to gain and conserve power. He is a blight. A self-sustaining parasite. And he killed Jesar. Why did he kill Jesar? It just does not make any sense…”

Viv blinked. Something had just gone wrong. Abe seemed broken in a machine-like way, his skeletal frame as if stuck in time. Only the flicker of blue flame still danced in the empty sockets. No one dared speak in the few seconds it took for his soul to reassert control.

“Where was I? Oh yes. Elunath may delude himself in thinking he cares about the city, or honor, or reputation. He is a purely rational self-serving creature who will inevitably do what serves him the most. If he believes it serves him more to break his word because he can get away with it, he will.”

“Don’t I know that…” Viv grumbled.

“That will make him predictable but no less dangerous for it. Now for the assassination part. First, I would like to inform you that I hired an assassin to help us in this endeavor. He should arrive quickly. In the meanwhile, I propose that I share what I know and then you may discuss and propose solutions as you may think of solutions I did not think of. Now, onto the explanation.”

Abe gestured and a detailed plan of Elunath’s domain appeared as a light construct of exquisite complexity. Viv easily recognized the entrance lobby, the corridor, and Elunath’s study but there were also a research laboratory, and personal quarters. She recognized storage rooms, a kitchen, and the various other locations thanks to careful labels. The magical defenses were shown just as thoroughly, and they were quite formidable. Viv counted three entrances in total but they might as well be fortress walls for all that entailed.

Abe gestured a second time. A list of profiles bearing the likeness of wanted portraits appeared next to the map, this one detailing Elunath’s entourage and an estimation of their capabilities, complete with anecdotes and public display of power. A last gesture brought Elunath’s chiseled, perfect face and a much more comprehensive list of his abilities.

Viv had never seen such in depth preparations.

“As you can see, in addition to his own formidable abilities, Elunath enjoys the support of a group of trained mages, a fortress-like setup, and he must be slain within ten minutes at most.”

“Why is that?” Viv asked.

“As a vital defender of Helock, Elunath is backed by the council of elders. Gryphon riders and battlemages will flood the place as soon as the alarm is given. That is why I need your help, if I have to be honest. We are trying to fight a superior, entrenched enemy. The odds are not in our favor.”

Abe went on a long description of the multiple layers of defenses around the elemental Archmage. Brown mages were superior defenders and Elunath exemplified their entire caste. Redundant systems would make infiltration almost impossible. Even the windows were not made of glass but of specifically enchanted panes of hard stone designed to let the light through. The odds did seem overwhelming.

For all of his foe’s superiority, Abe had still found, not exactly flaws, but opportunities. Elunath could sense anything moving through stone in a radius that covered almost the entire city. He could also pay more attention to specific places and possibly even eavesdrop on conversation, though he could not be everywhere at once. Abe surmised Elunath could also find someone from their footsteps.

Abe’s immediate solution was to use Elunath’s confidence against himself. He would set up a diversion before sneaking into the manor from underneath, digging through the earth where protections were only nominal while Elunath was distracted. Abe was absolutely confident that Elunath would rush back to punish whoever dared enter his domain. This still left the attackers inside of a stone structure belonging to an Archmage who specialized in stone manipulation. Black mana saturation would remedy some of the dangers but… the outlook was rather bleak. Viv gave them maybe one in five chances of success which was still impressive for such a daunting task. Abe was right to brainstorm the problem. Piling powerful people could only get them so far. Abe’s planning was not up to par with his intelligence gathering, that was for sure.

“What if he doesn’t have reinforcements?” Viv asked.

Abe glanced up, his blue glare disturbingly intense.

“A diversion?”

“No. Well, not really. What if we cut off his support first? Helock accommodates him but there is no arguing he’s an asshole and he must have made enemies throughout the years. I think we can convince the city to… ah… punish him a little.”

“There is a great way to do that, actually,” Sidjin said.

“Please tell me more,” Abe asked with singular intensity.

“Helock law allows for a ‘vendetta’ against interest groups if a sufficient cause is offered to the Council of Elders.”

So far, the discussion had been conducted in old Harrakan since most of the group was more familiar with the language. ‘Vendetta’ was the best translation Viv could think of to fit the northern term Sidjin had used.

“When a vendetta is declared, the council may not offer support to either side. It will not intervene so long as the conflict is limited to the contestants. It’s a seldom used mechanism because the conditions to set it up are stringent. Most conflicts would be better solved using negotiations or a tribunal.”

“I remember. The law was voted after the Narkis family debacle,” Abe replied.

“It’s a last resort for failed clans who believe they no longer have a chance for fair treatment. The Narkis family went out in a blaze of glory against a superior alliance but the collateral damage was so dire and their attacks so indiscriminate that the city still bears the scars of that conflagration. A vendetta limits the violence and gives options to revenge-driven individuals by guaranteeing that the authorities will leave them alone. In return, civilian lives are spared. Mostly.”

“And we can declare one?” Viv asked with some doubt.

“Not we. You,” Sidjin replied. “You see, only citizens in good standing can make the request. None of us are but… there is a loophole.”

“I’m a student of the Academy,” Viv remembered. “For at least another few months. Academy students enjoy the same benefits as citizens except for voting rights!”

“You will have to pay your dues first but then you can start the process. You are also lighter and have a different balance compared to before, which means that Elunath will struggle to find you, especially if you limit the number of steps you take.”

“I could float.”

“You should. And the council will never refuse your request because you have cause and are extremely dangerous yourself and, mostly, well…”

“They won’t be too worried?”

“No one in their right mind could think that Elunath would lose to anybody right now.”

“Right. That seems like a good idea. It will warn the man that I’m still alive but I’ll sacrifice the element of surprise for the withdrawal of Helockian help. That should be one hurdle removed.”

“Most likely lessened. They will still covertly provide some assistance,” Abe corrected.

“And concerning this, I have another idea,” Viv continued. “Look, let’s take a step back. We’re thinking about this too, err, tactically. This isn’t a battle. It’s a campaign. Right now our isolation and small numbers seem like a disadvantage but actually, it’s a strength. We’re conducting covert operations. A small group of experts is the ideal set up.”

“Your earthling mindset bleeds through your words,” Abe remarked, “however wisdom being universal, I would hear your proposal.”

“We need to sap his resources. Make the city lose confidence and respect. Force him out of his comfort zone to make him sloppy, tired, prone to mistakes.”

“He will just hunker down,” Rakan said.

//Not if we make it too costly.

//Basic analysis of Elunath’s profile hints at extreme arrogance.

“I concur,” Abe added.

//Attacks against him will be answered.

//Most likely, they will be answered with excessive force.

//He will seek to make examples.

//It would play to our advantage.

“I can ruin his reputation with a smear campaign,” Viv said. “I have ideas. That’s his political capital. Next, what about the money?”

Everyone looked at Viv.

“The… money?” Rakan asked.

“Money means nothing to the likes of him,” Sidjin concurred.

“No, hold on,” Abe said.

They all waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“I understand what she means. We can strike at his resources. His possessions. His supporters as well. We must attack everything. He is but one mind who trusts nobody with his personal affairs while we are many. If we can overwhelm him with issues, his mental state will eventually deteriorate. I have gathered detailed information on his financial holdings. Please wait while I go collect them.”

The Lich literally flew away. Viv used the opportunity to serve herself another cup. Resisting cold did not mean one enjoyed it, after all. Abe returned a few minutes later with several files which Viv immediately set to arrange before her. She went over notes, statements, intercepted transmissions, schedules. Her mind absorbed everything in her quest to inflict maximum damage. There were no skills of hers that promoted duplicity but she was her father’s daughter and one didn’t grow the child of a devious politician without learning a few tricks.

“Can we help?” Sidjin asked with some hesitation.

“Do you have a polymath skill or something similar?”

“Well, no.”

“Then wait a bit please. I’m almost done.”

The crew — Viv had decided they were a crew since they intended to break quite a few laws — gathered around her with steaming cups to watch her work. It took her less than ten minutes to gather piles and eventually brandish a schedule like one waves a flag.

“This. Elunath frequently visits the Bank of Helock to access a private safe.”

“Wouldn’t his possessions be better hidden in his manor?” Rakan asked.

“You’re right. Whatever’s in there is meaningful enough that he keeps it in one of the most secure locations in the city yet still makes sure it’s not in his house. Whatever it is, it must be precious. And the good news is that he didn’t pick the Manipeleso Bank and Exchange.”

“How is that relevant?” Abe asked.

“Because we’re going to burglarize it and I would hate to step on the feet of people who keep my money.”

Abe considered her proposal for a few seconds.

“Marvelous. I have more information on the bank’s structure. Let us reconvene tomorrow after the assassin has arrived. I must admit, as attractive as killing Elunath is, I will enjoy humiliating him first even more.”

“Here it is,” Viv said a little nervously.

Rakan watched Abe move with trepidation. The Lich used careful movements to remove an oak staff from the pedestal where it had been engraved. Four small cores shone over its length at equal distance to each other, one for each of the primary colors.

The young mage took the staff in trembling hands. Immediately, his leaking aura settled. Power dripped into the cores at a steady pace while the two others watched in wonder.

“It appears to be working,” Abe stated. “Although not my best creation by far, I believe you will find this tool suitable to your needs, young Rakan.”

“Yeah. Thanks, I… I can’t really repay you?”

“Fret not. I have vast amounts of resources at my disposal. It pleases me to see Hallurians rising above the cutthroat customs of their home nations to seek greatness elsewhere. You are a credit to your people, young Rakan.”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“I believe that taking care of my allies will eventually pay off. Altruism is… is important. Is it not? I believe it is. Yes. Now you can leave with your mind at peace?”

“If you’re sure you don’t need me…”

Rakan’s sister was in Harrak with the hunters by now for the sake of safety. Viv didn’t know Tarana very well. Their relationship had always been frosty since the young woman pictured her brother’s life as peaceful and stable, two things Viv was known to deny by her mere presence. The recent events had not proven her wrong either. Nevertheless, she had accepted to relocate without struggle. The recent race riots had removed any illusion she had on how Hallurians were perceived around the city. Now, Rakan could join her to recover and learn how to make the best of the situation.

“I just feel like I’m running away…”

“You’re hurt,” Viv said. “You need time to recover and adapt. I assure you that there is enough to do around the land we’ve reclaimed. You might also want to try your hand against the undead. No shortage of those.”

“I know that. I mean that you’re all here. I know I’m being a burden.”

“A unit is composed of many members,” Abe interrupted. “If those members are hurt, the unit worries. Taking care of yourself and returning once you have recovered is the best service you can render right now. Your companions care about you.”

“What if you get hurt and I could have been here to help? To prevent it?”

“With enough ifs you can sit atop the divine throne in Larrean with Maranor upon your lap.”

Rakan crossed his arms, half surprised and half amused.

“Forgive me for the outburst,” Abe continued. “Do not mull over dark thoughts until they poison your mind with hypothetical scenarios that will never see the day. You do not have to wait or be idle. Your task is to learn how to function with the staff then help around the city. I am certain Viviane’s seneschal has a list of chores she cannot wait to hoist upon your shoulders, young Rakan.”

“You’re right. I guess. Yeah, I have my own path to follow. Thanks again. I really can’t repay you but I will certainly try.”

Rakan left, eager to try the staff in the ritual room. Viv watched him go with just a little bit of guilt. It was not that they were getting rid of him. She really believed in her own words. It was that, even though Rakan had decided to take part in the tournament himself, the tragedy that led to him being maimed could arguably be born from her spark of luck. History happened while she was around and that history made victims. She knew it. She just couldn’t help it.

Perhaps a broken core could be repaired. At the very least, she knew whom to ask. Her return to the Academy was going to be interesting.

Viv’s wings were weird.

The smooth surface of solid black mana hid things inside she didn’t quite understand. There were no obvious muscles designed to move them and yet they moved, and they did so with a strength only limited by Viv’s stature and weight. Viv could direct them with as much precision as her own arms. They gave tactile feedback. For all intents and purposes, those were extra stabby limbs and yet they were clearly not designed for that purpose. They were meant as an anchor, a signal that magic was going to happen. The need to use them as such always lingered at the back of Viv’s psyche, even during exercises.

Which was bothering her right now.

The Chalice’s surface was small but cluttered with stones, ruins, and the craggy trees that grew up at this altitude with the constant wind twisting their trunks like snakes. One could grow familiar with this place which was why Viv was never given enough time to study it. Her maddened race sent her climbing over a beheaded statue, wings planting into nearby growths to carry her the last few inches. Sure steps on roots and she was off at a dead run towards the entrance to the underground.

Her instincts screamed at her.

A stone bounced on her instant shield, deflected into a nearby column. Viv ducked under another. She launched herself at a dead sprint, wings balanced behind her. She stopped. She jumped to the side. Her wings tensed. Her balance was wrong. She lost her footing.

Solfis crashed where she had been a moment before. His clawed feet punched through the old stone with a ghastly crack. Viv’s instincts still told her he was a danger. She was on the ground. Too slow.

Anger took over.

With a scream of rage, she pushed herself back towards him. The wings extended like twin blades towards the golem’s ribcage, stopped at the last moment by two pinching hands. Viv had recovered before they could land but that didn’t matter. She would never stand a chance against Solfis in a physical contest anyway.

“Sorry,” she said, “I, ah, sorry. Lost it for a minute there.”

Fury still pumped through her veins though it was directionless now.

//Think nothing of it.

//It is all part of your recovery and training.

“How do you make the instincts work anyway? It never triggered during training before but now I feel like you’re real threat to me. That you mean to hurt me.”

//I designed this method to train your acuity reflex skill.

//By abusing the way it works.

//I convince myself that you need to suffer in order for the training to be effective.

//Then I convince myself that applying that suffering is no longer necessary as I reach for you.

“I. Err. You can do that?”

//The advantage of a perfect mind instead of a mess of hormones and poorly firing neurons.

“Wow.”

//Though I admit that you are far ahead of the fleshbag curve.

“I just thought you couldn’t hurt me at all.”

//I can inflict discomfort in the name of progress and overall safety.

“Right. Well, speaking of discomfort, I’m done for now.”

Even a month after the fact, Viv still couldn’t move for a full hour without feeling a deep exhaustion. She also ate more and spent half the day sleeping. Low, unceasing pains had become a constant companion, though it never affected the same place twice. It wasn’t too bad though, and she was too bored to stay in bed. Moving with her wings deployed had become a priority. Getting a new wardrobe equipped with flaps was another.

Her super cool black and silver armor no longer fit.

That was only temporary. Yep!

//A word before we return.

“Tell me.”

//The making of Liches was strictly forbidden by the empire and all Liches and people participating in the making of Liches were to be executed without trial.

//There were no exceptions.

//The reason why Liches still occurred was that it remains easy for a caster with enough time to become one.

//All it takes is tethering the soul to one’s deceased body.

//A feat that veteran mages at the top of the fourth step can accomplish with enough will.

//Incidence of Liches remained at around one per year on average during my time as an asset for the Harrakan military.

//Despite their numbers, no effort was ever made to accept and weaponize them.

//The cause is due to a combination of several factors.

“Which apply to our host.”

//Indeed.

//First, Liches grow in power as time passes.

//Thus, a Lich left alone grows more dangerous.

//In this they are similar to Necrarchs.

//Second, Liches are driven by a single purpose decided during death.

//They are incapable of deviating from that course.

//Thus Liches cannot be directed nor controlled.

//Third, Liches lose their humanity and their empathy the longer they operate.

//The phenomenon can be mitigated as Abe’s example shows but never stopped.

//Thus, a Lich will eventually lose the incentive to act as a citizen.

//Fourth, once their purpose is accomplished, they grow listless and destructive.

“So after Abe kills Elunath…”

//When it happens, Abenezigel will quickly suffer from the completion of his reason to live.

//Resulting in a quick degeneration of his social skills followed by a transformation into a true monster.

“Fuck.”

//I apologize.

//I did not expect you to grow friendly with an undead.

//However, I do admire his resilience and his ability to maintain focus and sanity.

“Damn. It’s like you admire him.”

//Despite vastly different origins, we have much in common.

“So… uh… you plan on killing him?”

//Killing him serves Helock.

//Therefore, I will avoid doing so unless forced to act.

//Nevertheless, we should leave him as soon as we are done.

“Wait, so we both transferred our soul to a different body, more or less, right?”

//Yes.

“But mine is still alive so it’s… better?”

//Yes.

//The seat of your mental functions is still an organic brain.

//It relies on mana-altered biological processes.

//His mental functions rely on mana alone.

//He is missing key subconscious aspects.

“So his body is flawed. What if we found a way to… improve it?”

Solfis’ yellow glare bored into Viv’s.

//Elaborate.

“We may be able to return his carcass to a likeness of life. A sort of flesh golem. It might be possible for me.”

//You are getting very close to necromancy and the domain of Gomogog.

“How close?”

//Close enough to be careful during your research.

//We may as well look for options.

//Abenezigel’s contribution to Harrak might be… invaluable.

“So, kill an elemental, find a way to cure Rakan, find a way to help Abe. Looks like we got our work cut out for us.”

//I do expect a lot of cutting, yes.

Chapter 142: Administration

It felt weird to be back at the Academy after everything that happened, Viv thought. Her steps carried her past the entrance and the uncaring gaze of the guards, then through the familiar entrance garden and to the administrative building. No one gave her a second glance. No one paid much attention. The reason was simple. Viv had a disguise.

Abenezigel had prepared thoroughly, though it had now become clear that he lacked the sort of vision that could lead to a great plan. She now wore an amulet that masked her more prominent features, her eyes and peculiar skin tone. For everyone watching she would appear as a brown-eyed, dark-haired mousy young woman of Enorian origin, pretty much a second class citizen. Although it took more than what Abe was capable off to bullshit an inspection skill, the amulet also bore a disturbing and most likely turbo illegal charm that made the inspector dismiss her. In short, they still saw all her information. They just didn’t care. The guards didn’t let her through because she was a student here but because she was uninteresting and harmless. As Viv opened the door to the administrative building, she was fully confident in her heart that this little trick would come back to bite her in the ass sooner rather than later.

Pissed her off a bit, that did.

Between the amulet and the gravity harness she wore just in case, she was confident Elunath would not start looking for her until after she completed all her errands.

Few people remained in the lobby so late in the morning. Darla, the head admin, gave her a dismissive glance at first, then her gaze zeroed on Viv with laser focus, confirming Viv’s opinion that there was more to the prim woman than what was obvious at first glance. Darla straightened in her white uniform and placed a hand behind her back in a gesture even Viv found threatening. The elemental witch raised her hands, then slowly removed the amulet.

Viv’s appearance returned to normal, sans the wings as she wanted to keep that a secret until forced to reveal them. Darla gasped in shock.

That made the next three seconds very awkward as Viv was forced to wait. Behind her, a student filling a form looked on with some curiosity.

“Oh… Oh, it’s you!” Darla sputtered.

She gave Viv a look over.

“Well, most of you anyway.”

“Har har. I assure you it’s only temporary. I would like to re-enroll for this semester. Unless there is a problem, of course.”

“Well, the student register lists you as ‘most likely dead’ but seeing as you stand here without trying to eat my face off, I will assume that the rumors were exaggerated. Enrollment for the next semester is done with a simple signature. I will also update your student chit and there is the tuition fee. Fifteen gold talents and seven silver please.”

Viv grumbled about rising prices. The Academy asked for a low fee from first years but then expected people to make money for themselves, even if it meant spending weekends recharging wards for rich families. Viv could afford it. It was the principle of the thing.

Her business concluded, Viv made her way to her dormitory where she expected to find Ereska. Her nice dress meant that students took her for a relative or a runner, though many frowned as she passed. The Academy was an exclusive place for mages and she didn’t register as one. Many resented the intrusion in their sanctum.

It was the first time she realized what it meant to be a non caster in no position of authority. She was a nobody. The low rung of a highly hierarchical society. Her presence was barely tolerated on the assumption she would not be there if the authorities had not decreed it acceptable, and even then only temporarily.

Her mind wandered. Was she not the same, dating only casters and acting high and mighty? How bad was it, really? What if she had appeared in this world, not through Emeric’s intervention but by some mishap like, presumably, plenty of others? How many outlanders had died in the Hallurian wilderness or slaughtered by parochial villages who could not trust a stranger before Nous’ blessing could give them an edge? She shook her head as the path led up to the remote stone building where she had slept so many nights. It was not a good time for what ifs.

It turned out that Ereska wasn’t here. Viv easily tracked the aristocratic mage to the nearby library. Ereska was working on her ‘thesis’, a way to generate mana from artificial dams to increase grain output. She no longer attended classes. Viv had to flash her chit at the librarian who would have pushed her off on her ass in an instant. Even Ereska looked at her with haughty annoyance when she dared interrupt.

“It’s me, Viv.”

“What is the meaning of… impossible. Really? Prove it.”

“You snore when you’re drunk.”

“HUSH! Not here. Come.”

The now much taller woman dragged her to a rest area where a nasty glare reminded a group of first years they ought to be studying and not gawking.

Viv removed her necklace. Ereska gasped as well. She also placed a hand against Viv’s shoulder, going through the tightly controlled cloud of mana that formed Viv’s aura.

“So much mana. Maranor’s tits.”

“Language?”

“Not now. And your eyes… Incredible. A black mana elemental caster. I… don’t think there are any records of one.”

“Nope. I’m the first.”

“Fascinating. And… but wait…”

Ereska finally frowned.

“Did… the transformation fail on your legs?”

“It’s temporary! Temporary! Is everyone going to comment on it?”

“You’re two heads shorter.”

“I know. I noticed.”

“And almost completely flat. Like a boy.”

“Cut it out.”

“Still, I am delighted to see you again. You could have sent news, or did Elunath not permit it?”

“That is why I am here. I did not take Elunath’s offer. He is not what he said he is… and I will make him fall for that.”

Immediately, excitement left the mage’s frame. Her slanted eyes grew keen and narrow. Viv had her attention.

“Elaborate.”

“Elunath keeps sex slaves.”

It took a good fifteen minutes for Viv to recount her entire experience, not because she gave much detail but because Ereska’s sharp mind latched on the terms of the contract and would simply not let go. Their stats meant that Viv’s recall was perfect, which meant swearing on Neriad’s name that she wasn’t lying a mere formality. Her mana was drained and a soft golden glow surrounded her raised right hand in a soft halo.

“By all the gods light and dark. That is… The Academy exists exactly to protect young mages from such predatory practices! How could Dean Tallit not know?”

“How did you not know?” Viv countered. “How did I not know? Exclusively female mages recruited at the end of puberty? We were being naive.”

Ereska slouched against the wall. Ereska never slouched, and she seldom swore.

“And you say he hunts after those who have no choice?”

“Or little choice. People from very poor backgrounds usually.”

“The local nobles always pick those up when their powers fully manifest. Elunath is a liar! Of course, anyone with talent would be nurtured as much as possible. Casters are too valuable to be left raising a brood of fishermen. Poppycock. He is lying to entrap promising prospects. Arg! Wait until I tell everyone. You will tell everyone, yes?”

“I suspect Tallit will find me before long. I want to see Tod as well.”

“I will walk you to the medical faculty.”

Ereska was not fully absorbed in her outrage. She agreed to spread the word to her friends and the noble families as much as possible. The old guard wouldn’t give two shits about what an Archmage did with poor strangers but younger nobles had a natural aversion for forced marriages and old men going after much younger partners.

“I know what you think. Most of us will not care what Elunath does with peasants and coal burners. After all, the higher classes have been abusing their powers for generations and will continue doing so as long as mankind is mankind. But Elunath is not preying on fishermen, he is preying on mages, my dear. It will be enough to raise quite a few eyebrows. Oh, I still cannot believe it.”

It was now Viv’s turn to question Ereska, not least because she had not expected the cold woman to adopt this cause with such fiery passion.

“Be careful not to poke him too much. I can hide. You, on the other hand…”

“Oh do not worry. If I criticize Elunath then suddenly disappear, the clans will be in an uproar. If he wants to stay here at all, he will not escalate. I regret to say that the same will apply in reverse. Never will the council of elders oppose his practices, no matter how despicable they may be.”

“If everyone knows him for what he is, that is enough.”

“It is not!”

“It is enough for your part in this,” Viv amended. “Perhaps we can prevent future entrapments as well.”

“You have a plan,” Ereska stated.

Viv spared a glance at the mage, tempted. But no. Ereska was a daughter of Helock. Viv couldn’t trust her with more, couldn’t risk her with more.

“I have and you should not get involved. Breaking his grip on Helockian society is a daunting enough task, don’t you think?”

“Yes. I suppose you are right. I should be on my way. I will be heading home immediately. Ugh, I still cannot believe my ears! Disgusting. Goodbye and good luck.”

Viv walked through the far gate leading outside of the Academy’s walls and to the plateau above Helock where the medical faculty welcomed the sick who could make their way there. On her way, Viv was confronted to her new reality.

“Get in fucking line, wench.”

“I’m a student,” Viv replied to the thug outside with patience and understanding. Couldn’t betray her return with a casual dismemberment.

She dangled the chit in front of her.

“The fuck is that?”

A local guard stopped the thug before Viv could explode. Apparently, they accepted outside help to keep the unwashed properly lined up in stressful situations. Viv did her best to shut off the stench of filth, disease, and outright rot spreading from the mass. She was pretty sure the old man in a wheelbarrow dragged by a crying girl had been dead for at least an hour. After more than a month of bed rest and earth series watching, the return to reality was giving her whiplash.

“Hello, could you please let magister Tod that I am here? My name is Viv.”

“Magister Tod is busy at the moment. Please wait in line and we’ll be with you shortly,” the staff lady at the front told her without a glance.

Viv was not familiar with her but the staff rotated between all departments so that wasn’t unusual.

“I expect him to be busy. I just would like him to know I’m here,” Viv calmly insisted.

That was fine. This was the emergency service of an overcrowded hospital. It was only natural that people could be curt. She wouldn’t raise her voice, she would remain calm. Many people were suffering much more than she was. Just take a step back and breathe.

The wood of the lobby groaned under her grip. It cracked. The staff lady looked up in silent alarm, then saw the splintered crack snaking towards her.

The guards shifted.

“I appreciate that you are very busy and I do not expect the magister to rush out to see me or anything. My request is simple. Make the magister aware of my presence then he can decide what to do. Look, you’re here to filter people out. I got it. I’m the person who regrows limbs.”

“You’re not magister Ashra.”

Viv blinked. Apparently they’d managed to make the spell work without her! That was great news.

“I’m her assistant. The other one? I haven’t been there in over a month.”

“Suuuuure, I’ll let him know but if you’re trying to fool me…”

The wood creaked even more. The staff lady suddenly remembered that little detail. Viv’s pleasant smile was growing more strained by the second.

“Don’t make threats, pretty please with a nice slice of permonn on top.”

The message was sent in record time. In the meanwhile, Viv sat down to wait.

“This is a place of healing, little lady. Please don’t make trouble,” an old guard told her with a fatherly tone.

Viv sighed. There was so much impatience in her, suddenly. Rage thundered in her brain at the slightest frustration and it was all she could do to keep it at bay. Even her enhanced mind struggled to keep a lid on the constant need to put people in her place.

“Not going to be an undercover agent for very long, that’s for sure,” she grumbled to herself.

“VIVANE!” a familiar voice yelled.

Tod was an ancient black man with a majestic beard, rail thin and with a permanent sore throat. It felt strange to see him hurry down a nearby corridor with a panicked assistant in tow. She stood up and saw the confusion on his face, and damn the subtlety, she removed her amulet. Her eyes put a stop to Tod but he recovered quickly. Much more quickly than the guards, in any case.

“You made it. You are alive!”

“Yes, magister. I heard you managed to regrow a limb without me? Well done.”

“Examination room. Now.”

“Errr, I was just here to — “

But Tod had turned away without waiting for confirmation, leaving Viv with no reasonable choice but to follow.

“Ashra and a bishop of Enttiku and it takes them six hours. For an arm!”

“Hey it’s a proof of concept. I’m sure you can refine the process.”

“Young lady, this is the heart of learning on Param. If we can’t do it, no one can, and we can’t. Not without Ashra developing her understanding of change.”

“Just be patient.”

Tod stopped to glare at her. The effect was lessened when he met her eyes and flinched.

“Not going to get used to that. In there now, young lady.”

“I’m really just here to ask questions.”

“I’m very old and in charge and your medical practitioner, That means you do what I say.”

“Fine, fine.”

They entered a freshly deserted room. The linen on the bed was still damp and the scent of soap and alcohol barely masked that of dream weed, a local intoxicant.

“Hmph. Sit down so I can have a look at you.”

Tod cast several spells in quick successions, passing his gnarly hands over the still dressed form of Viv with increasing puzzlement.

“Well, congratulations. According to my measurements, you’re perfectly dead.”

“I”ve heard that before.”

“And inexplicably shorter!”

“Heard that one too.  I’m fine, really.”

“I could write a treatise on elemental anatomy if you give me a bit of your time.”

“Wouldn’t that be of… very limited use?”

Viv withstood a two minute rant on science and the necessity of understanding first before considering practical applications.

“And you’d better not forget it! And why did you disappear on me? When are you coming back? We have a waiting list of amputees. Veterans from the latest Hallurian adventure. Well?”

“About that. I’m going to be busy for at least a few weeks.”

“Doing what exactly?”

“Blood feud with Elunath after he tried to sign me into becoming his sex slave.”

Tod glared but then that was his normal state of being when he was thinking about something.

“Explain.”

Viv did so, sharing the details of the contracts. She swore on Neriad, sent the golden god some more mana in prayer and got him to back her word again. For the longest time, Tod didn’t react.

“Young Tallit knows?” he finally asked.

“I can’t be sure. I’ll probably see him afterward.”

“If he knew and did nothing I’ll be very, very cross. The Academy stands for freedom of mages to pursue their craft for themselves and offer their services to those who deserve it. I know we’re competing with the ambition and greed of local rulers. We can’t do anything about those! But a poacher and sexual predator in our own gods-accursed city? Wait. You are going to declare a vendetta?”

“Yes.”

Another glare, this one more cautious. Viv was growing used to Tod’s different flavors of evil eye again.

“I assume you have a plan.”

“Yes.”

“It’d better be a good one because Elunath is many things but he’s not a pushover. Do you know he once crushed an entire fortress?”

“He did it at least twice that we know of.”

“Well, at least you’ve done your homework. And we? Wait, don’t tell me. In the meanwhile, I’m going to request a physical for all the poor ladies under his care.”

“He probably won’t agree.”

“Then at least it’ll piss him off. Off you go now, I’m busy. Don’t die. Hop to it!”

“Wait. I had a question. Rakan has a—”

“I know he has a broken core and I already told him it was not something fixable with medicine.”

“Oh, he already came to you.”

“People have their own brains and drives, you remember, yes? Of course he came to me. I’ll tell you what I told him. He needs to focus on mana control and channel development. Cores are not static things for us mortals, yes? The most important thing is not to give up. He can still cast well enough! I gave him instructions and exercises, the rest you’ll have to see with him. Enough dilly dally. Be on your way!”

“Yes you old curmudgeon, I’m going. Neriad’s buttocks.”

“No backtalk!”

Viv rolled her eyes, replaced her pendant and made her way out. As expected, there was a runner requesting her presence at the dean’s office. It did not take long for her to explain her position to the singularly ugly man, which made his bushy eyebrows furrow even more. Dean Tallit gave her his blessing to be excused from class for the duration of the blood feud. He was also the first person not to remark upon the fact she was a little diminished.

“This is quite worrisome. Elunath is a frequent sponsor of promising students so we always assumed he had an interest in Helock’s development. Between what you swore and some other hints I elected to disregard due to a lack of complaints from the participants, it appears we will have to give all his contracts a very thorough look. I assume you have a plan?”

“Of course, I have a plan. Why is everyone asking? I very often have a plan.”

“Shortly after your first meeting, you rushed out and destroyed a warehouse looking for your kidnapped dragon. You killed two people in plain sight.”

“They had it coming.”

“I do not deny that. You just seem… impetuous at times.”

“Look, which of us defeated a prince and poured molten gold down his throat? I did. I have plans.”

“You are not exactly filling me with confidence. Elunath has been at this game for a very long time. If he finds you…”

Tallit eloquently smashed his hand on his desk.

“Splat.”

“Yes, yes, everyone takes me for an idiot. I know he will kill me if he corners me. It will be fine. I haven’t declared the feud yet.”

“Very well. You should go now then disappear. I don’t believe other students have recognized you so far but there will be rumors and Elunath will hear them.”

“I’m going as soon as we are done here.”

“Very well. We will investigate your assumptions and if they are true, it will be clear that Elunath has benefitted from our institution and our talent while violating everything we stand for. The Academy will not join in with your feud but we will not support Elunath either. Quite the contrary.”

“That is all I can ask.”

Afternoon had barely started when Viv made her way down the noble quarter. Hunger needled her but she hesitated to find food because time was not on her side, even with the disguise masking her identity as half elemental. Elunath would learn of her survival sooner or later and, contrary to everyone else so far, he would seriously wonder how she managed to transition. The fact she had not declared a blood feud would not stop him if he really wanted to get his claws on her.

No one paid attention to her while he walked at a brisk pace, having failed to locate a cart. The road was muddy today, the sky depressed. It was the first time she had returned to Helock since the change and she wasn’t having fun. The city had changed, or maybe she had. Elunath could feel every footstep around and could have perhaps recognized her if she had kept the same weight. It made her paranoid, eager to activate her gravity harness to escape the danger under her soles. She squashed the urge. It was going to be fine.

The avenue broadened and the sashes and shoulder pads of the nobility gave way to the red uniforms of civil servants out to grab a bite. She ended on the large central square, sparing a glance to the ominous form of the Bank of Helock. It was just as monolithic and hermetic as the Manipeleso banks she had seen everywhere. The austere facade tolerated no windows at all on its front and only barred, thin ones on the side. Tough nut to crack.

The town hall was a buzz of activity, civilians and civil servants rushing in and out of the outer wall that surrounded a massive rectangular building. It was the largest man-made structure she’d seen since leaving Harrak, with several entrances. Battle mages and soldiers alike kept a vigil all over the place. One of them, an officer, frowned when he saw her. He moved to intercept with two blade mages in tow.

Viv let them catch up to her. She wasn’t doing anything wrong yet. There was also a food cart on the side that had just gotten her attention. She was constantly ravenous these days and the scent of grilled meat and tuber was more than she could resist.

“You are not what you appear to be,” the officer told her without preamble. “Unless you can reveal your real identity and justify the obfuscation, I will ask you to follow me.”

“I can reveal my true appearance and the reason of my presence but I’d like my privacy respected. I’m in good standing.”

She waved her Academy chit. which was at the end of a chain conveniently attached to her bank token. The officer picked it between two gloved fingers with an amusing level of apprehension. Not too weird considering physical power and lethality related much less to size here than it did on earth. Viv watched the shock bloom on his expression once he read her name.

“You? We thought you were dead…”

“It didn’t stick. I am very much alive.”

“What? Oh. Then…”

“I am here on official business. My obfuscation serves to protect my anonymity while I do so. I am sure you understand.”

“Yes, of course. May I ask what it is? I can direct you to the right place.”

Ah, it felt good to get the VIP treatment again. The constant annoyance boiling in Viv’s veins simmered down a little.

“I’m here to declare a vendetta against Archmage Elunath.”

Viv could have shoved a whole egg in the officer’s mouth without touching the teeth. His sidekicks were not faring much better. They were attracting some attention around, with three heavily armed men showing signs of shock next to a petite woman of no discernible interest. It took a few long and frankly boring seconds for them to recover. Next they were going to ask her if she had a plan or something.

“That… well, are you quite sure? I believe only Helockian clans may declare one.”

“Nope, any citizen in good standing and I am considered one under the law.”

“But…”

“Trust me, I checked.”

“Against Elunath? Lady, you are out of your mind…”

“That is for me to decide, is it not?” Viv replied, her annoyance returning with a vengeance.

“Yeah, sure. Your funeral. Look, Elunath has been at this game for hundreds of years…”

“Show me the way or get out of the way. I’m not debating my life choices with you.”

The officer breathed in with thunder on his brow. He breathed out immediately though, his anger bleeding out. Viv got the impression it was a common occurrence.

“Fine. It’s your decision. Follow me.”

The advantage of having an escort of three burly men, two of whom radiated mana, was that queues immediately became a problem of the past. Viv was led through a door and up three flights of stairs through what appeared to be a government wing. The place was heavily guarded and comparatively empty. The officer finally stopped in a crowded room filled with desks overloaded with papers and equipment, including a few mana-fed contraptions she did not recognize. A pallid man who looked offended that someone dared enter his domain turned to glare.

“Yes? This is the clan relationship management office. Are you lost?”

“The little la— that is, Academy student Viviane would like to, ah, make a request. For a vendetta.”

The civil servant glared some more, this time in silence. He was still leaning over one of his subordinates, two hands planted on the woman’s desk. She was looking increasingly uncomfortable. The rest of the office had frozen likewise. Viv was wondering if she should just use a sound spell and scream her intention over the entire city to get it out of their system.

“You are not an offended clan. You’re not even Helockian.”

“And yet, the law allows me to declare one as a student of the Academy.”

“I don’t know where you come from but here in Helock, we do not play rule mangling like Baranese baronesses arguing over taxes. The vendetta is one of our most ancient and respected traditions. It’s meant for the desperate to die with honor. Do you understand that? You want to make a mockery of our honor and you think we will just smile and get you on your way.”

“I just want to declare vendetta in a timely manner as the law permits. I am not mangling any rules and I assure you, I am very serious.”

The man huffed. Viv had to take several deep breaths not to explode. She felt her core heat, the sensation new and unsettling. There was so much power in here, waiting to be unleashed. Sadly, no amount of might had ever helped defeat bureaucracy.

“Yes, though I believe I need to enlighten you as to what you can actually do. The laws of Helock do not allow you to ‘declare’ a vendetta as you seem to believe. What they allow you to do is to petition the council, following which they will decide if your request has merit. Fortunately for you, the council happens to be in session this afternoon.”

He gave a condescending smile.

“I will transmit your request as is your right, and as is my right as servant of Helock, if you are refused and considered to be wasting the time of the council, I will fine you for the maximum legal amount of two gold and seven silver talents. Iskes, get me a copy of form twelve.”

“We… don’t have any form twelve sir?”

“Then copy it…” the civil servant slowly enunciated as if to a particularly slow child.

It took the lady five minutes to find the original form which was lodged between two archives, then ten seconds to copy it, her hand a blur. Skills applied to every path here.

Viv filled said form which was a little annoying because first, it asked several questions that related to a Helockian clan she never had. That reinforced the impression she was only abusing a loophole. Her second source of annoyance stemmed from the fact she was filling a bloody paper with her name and address just so she could legally engage in a fight to the death with a man who could swim through stone. It just felt so damn weird and illogical.

“There, I’m done.”

“Excellent. Follow me, the council should have just convened. I am sure they will be delighted with the diversion.”

Even the corridors leading to the council room were cramped. Viv remembered that the town hall had started as a keep, which was why it was huge and monolithic rather than spread across various buildings. It was clear the Helock government had outgrown the facility a long time ago with how cluttered every inch was with offices, desks, and screaming people. Viv walked through meandering rows of richly decorated corridors that felt more stuffy than solemn. One couldn’t just lay a rug on naked fortress stone and expect it to turn into a palace. Eventually, they reached a heavily guarded sector and Viv was let into a large room with windows opened on one side.

It was perhaps the only room that didn’t feel entirely crowded. Rows of seats lined the back where richly dressed men and women attended the proceedings, muttering and moving in small groups. A large circular table occupied most of the remaining space. Clan leaders sat and conferred around it. Viv recognized several from her etiquette class, including Pendath, current ruler of the majority. Ereska had some choice words to say about the man who facilitated the ethnic riots as a ‘way for the trash to take itself out’ as he had worded it. He sat, obviously bored while a man droned on about what appeared to be a trade dispute. Many of the seats were empty. On a far corner, the scribe on duty yawned. Viv noted four battle mages, one in each corner. There were wards as well. She hoped it wouldn’t become relevant.

It might, because Pendath was an asshole.

The office manager made his way to the front, where a sort of master of ceremony picked up the form. The pair muttered seriously. By then, several nobles had noticed Viv and the disturbance she was causing. Most were hostile, which Viv blamed on her demure appearance and simple dress. People rudely inspected her.

“Alright,” Pendath interrupted. “Enough with the secret conference. What is going on?”

“A new council request made by that lady over there.”

“What is that request and how is it more important than the future of our food production!” the droning noble bellowed, clad in outrage and gaudy yellow cloth.

“The migration path of starlings isn’t our ‘food production’, Eustath. I’ll hear what this is about or risk falling asleep.”

“The little lady is a member of the Academy. Viviane.”

“The Outlander? I thought she was dead. And… taller.”

Viv fumed in her boots.

“That’s the thing. She claims she made it and errr… that she has a grudge against Elunath who apparently tried to enslave her. Sexually. She wants to declare a vendetta.”

This time there was little shock to be shown. There were, however, a lot of sneers. Pendath scoffed.

“Elunath can have everyone he wants. You’re delusional if you think he’d make any effort for an ugly little thing like you. And you’re not even a clan.”

“Nevertheless, I can request a vendetta.”

“And we are free to tell you to sod off.”

“The law—”

“We are the law, wench. If you want to kill yourself against Elunath because the change made you hysterical, feel free to so but don’t waste our time with preposterous requests! Someone escort her out. This isn’t a circus, by Sardanal. It’s a ruling council!”

Well, Viv thought.

I tried.

Viv casually snapped the fingers of the office manager as he grabbed her shoulder. She felt the guards behind her move forward to stop her just as the battlemages rushed forward. She suspected they were screaming orders under their mask but she couldn’t be sure. She had just suppressed the sound in the entire room. Another colorless spell amplified her own.

With one hand still gripping the gnat’s shattered digit, she slowly removed the pendant, letting her eyes return to their natural colors. The battlemages slowed down. Several cast wards.

[Helockain Battlemage, dangerous. Fourth step casters who form the backbone of Helock’s military. Killer. Disciplined. Coordinated.]

They tasted of many colors but they were not her match. Not even close. Her aura expanded until the room darkened and black mana fumaroles hissed on the ground at her feet.

“Listen, it seems we misunderstand each other. I am not making a nice request. I am courteously offering you an opportunity.”

Three of the mages had stopped by the council and activated wards. They could speak again but wisely elected not to. The last approached Viv at an angle with manacles out so she lifted a finger and smashed a bench into his tibias. Though his shield held, his balance did not. He wisely decided to stay at a distance after that.

“I’m going after Elunath for what he’s tried to do to me. I don’t care if you believe me or not. Your opinion is inconsequential. What I need you to understand is that the result for Helock will be different if we are legally bound by rules.”

“Cease this instant! Are you mad? I demand you to stop!”

“And I demand you to do your fucking job. Now I’ll ask one last time. Do you grant the vendetta or do you want to get acquainted with the phrase ‘collateral damage’?”

“We could also put you in jail for outrage until you have learned some respect!”

That was it.

Viv’s fury, which she had kept bottled for some time, erupted like a volcano to pour from her soul in the form of a wave of intimidation more powerful than anything she’d ever managed. She let her wings extend from her shoulder blades while scales as dark as the abyss bloomed over the dress. Excalibur spells snaked from her closed fist to lick the air with a subtle hiss. Pendath took a step back under the onslaught despite his obvious social skills. Even the soldiers at Viv’s back fell back. As for the nobles, they collapsed where they were. Viv saw herself reflected on a nearby shield. The only thing that remained of her mild persona were two viridian circles and the hungering void.

“You can certainly try.”

Come on come on come on come on do it just fucking try me. Do it. Do it do it do it so I can let go.

Black mana rolled out of her form. The wings chafed from wanting to anchor her so very badly. She could just do it now. She could just kill them all to the last one. That would help just as surely, no? Behead the snake and the city turns into a pit of chaos and she did like chaos very very much. They just had to give her the excuse. Just try to get her. Just lay their hand on her. The last remnant of self-control clung to that last, unyielding, uncompromising condition that they had to fuck up first.

Slowly and without breaking eye contact, Pendath picked up the form. He stamped it.

“Request granted. And impressive display. Elunath is still going to squash you like an insect.”

Viv pulled everything back in.

With slow, mechanical movements, she replaced the pendant. The manager lying at her feet had soiled himself at some point and the room was definitely not improved by the stench.

Her task was done.

Things had gotten… rather closer than she intended.

Viv turned around and left. To her surprise, the officer who had guided her all along walked ahead to guide her out.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you’ll get disciplined,” Viv allowed.

“I think they’ll want to forget this ever happened. Was it true what you said? About Elunath?”

“All of his ‘assistants’ were recruited as young girls and he beds them all.”

“Huh. Powerful people and their quirks. Sorry, that was inconsiderate.”

“Rather so, yes.”

“And you’ll go after him now?”

“No, first I want Helock to know what kind of degenerate he is.”

The officer pondered her words for two sets of stairs and a lobby.

“The council knows now, at least, even if they might not believe you. Looks like your demonstration fulfilled your purpose.”

“Oh no no no. I come from a civilization that has elevated smear campaigns to a science. Believe me, I am just getting started.”

Chapter 143: The League Slanders

“You?” Viv asked with total shock. “You? But I thought you were retired! Abe hired you?”

Irao winced, which caused Viv to lower her voice immediately. The Hadal leader looked good in street clothes with a nice hat. Just dandy in a slightly gaunt sort of way.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, he hired me.”

“And you are fine with that? The assassination?”

“Not really.”

Viv weighed her options. Irao seemed a little ill at ease in their secondary base in the craggy forest of eastern Helock. Maybe he wasn’t here of his own accord. She wasn’t sure how far she could or even ought to push but confirming consent seemed like a good idea.

“Irao, why are you here if you do not wish to be an assassin for someone else anymore? Are you being forced by someone?”

“No. I—”

He scratched the side of his head and sighed. Viv waited for a little while. The Hadal sighed deeply when he was done. He made his point, moving his hands to accentuate every new sentence.

“You are in danger. I don’t want you to die. So I help. I am here of my own accord so I can leave if I want. I missed you, and… I love bank heists.”

He grew a little animated.

“They always have the best wards and the best gates. Sometimes golems. A great enigma. I love to crack them open but my previous Helockian employer always used that bank and didn’t want me to get in.”

“Not Elunath, right?”

“No. A high clan. Can we go steal soon?”

“Yes. I just want to get started on my first little project. Can I count on you to join with the preparations? You can just write us notes if you prefer.”

“Yes. Yes, that would be good. I have been looking forward to this. Goodbye.”

The more Viv walked and the more she thought this was a bad idea. It was only because the others were too noticeable, too well known that she was willing to take the risk. Abe didn’t have a solution to change footsteps or Sidjin would have gone instead. It didn’t matter that she could depopulate the entire South Gate slums in ten minutes. A shiv through the ribs would always remain an unpleasant experience. It was not so long ago that walking alone in a bad district was something she would never have entertained, special forces training or not. Good form could stop a stronger man. Maybe two, if she really caught them off guard. Five people and she would get her teeth kicked in no matter what. The phantom threat hanging over her made her heart beat faster. Erupt here, and Elunath would come rushing. Then…

She might just die.

Viv forced down a shiver and hastened her steps. A trio of men followed her jaunt with unblinking eyes like a pack of stalking hyenas. Mud and worse things squelched under her boots. It stank of human refuse and unwashed bodies. The spring sun removed the cloak of darkness from the pavement to reveal the utter state of everything, from decrepit walls to broken roofs and filthy steps. The people were constantly on guard. Women moved in groups. Viv was standing out like a sore thumb and that attracted a lot of attention. The bad kind.

She sighed in relief when the street angled right, opening onto a small square around a well from which paupers drew water under the vigilant gaze of goons armed with truncheons. A two-storied inn reigned over the surrounding hovels like a beggar king. Its sagging frame still stood solid despite its old age. A corroded metal sign read “The Dog’s Bollocks” over its entrance. Viv spared a glance to the mastiff standing vigil by the door. The chain was barely long enough to reach the handle.

The dog stood still. It had a better sense than the hovering thugs.

Viv got in.

There was light inside, enough to see that the main room was rather large, with a bar at the far side and stairs leading up on her right. The ground had been swept and covered with fresh hay. Sadly, basic hygiene didn’t extend to the patrons. It took every scrap of self-control she had not to wince at the heady cocktail of rancid sweat and cheap perfume assaulting her nostrils with eye-watering intensity. The people inside tried to look the part of those with more than two iron bits to rub together and failed spectacularly. Ragged upper class coats and stained jackets barely concealed the handles of clubs and pig stickers. Those were, Viv realized, the muscle. The brain was nowhere to be found. Maybe it was still asleep.

Having pushed through legs and snickering comments, Viv sat at the counter though she hated exposing her back to the room. Her contact was due any time soon. The barman moved in to take her order with a curious look. He was a completely shaven, older man and the cleanest person here. Sad, droopy eyes gave him an air of constant worry.

“You sure you should be around here?”

“I’m meeting someone,” Viv replied carefully.

Maybe if she implied she was under someone’s protection, they would leave her alone. No one would look at her and believe she could defend herself. Another inspection brushed against the amulet. It warmed a little against her skin.

The sharks were circling.

“I’ll have a beer please.”

The local variety was made from a popular cereal and flat water, with a slightly salty taste. Viv was elated to discover that the mug was clean and the drink rather tasty. She paid her three bits and listened in on conversations. She failed. People used some sort of cant she couldn’t follow. Pressure mounted, as did her annoyance. Mostly, she was annoyed at being scared, and especially at being scared of low-lives the average heavy could probably have for breakfast. They couldn’t realistically kill her but her brain wouldn’t listen.

It reminded her of days of fear and powerlessness.

Her core pulsed softly. The energy wanted out.

The door opened and shut. A moment later, a man sat down by her side with a smirk of amused incredulity. He wore better and cleaner cloth than the surrounding thugs but only just so. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with curly hair and long fingers stained with ink blotches. She had found her contact.

“You must be Busson.”

“I am, and you are my mysterious customer! I expected someone… taller.”

“You could have picked a better place for a meeting,” she hissed, out of patience.

Busson shrugged unapologetically.

“A man cannot be too careful. Some folks can’t tell that I’m just the messenger, not the author yea? I just make copies and sometimes, I don’t even distribute them! The targets blame me for ‘unkind words’. I’ve had to move my workshop twice since last year, me, a poor and innocent entrepreneur.”

The sarcastic sneer showed how much Busson cared about it all.

“I’m just being careful. The owner of this place and myself, we have an understanding. He will protect me, yeah? Though when you contacted me, I didn’t expect a little lady to be the one to come. So, what will it be and how much will you pay?”

Viv placed a small engraved sphere on the counter before activating it. Abe had given her a sound barrier tool just so she wouldn’t reveal herself as a caster.

In the following silence, she slid several pamphlets over to her prospective hire.

“A thousand of each.”

Busson whistled at the amount, then he read and took a sharp breath. His fingers clenched at the copies. His breath quickened.

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“Five gold talents per delivery. A third in advance. We will handle the distribution ourselves. You only need to give us the finished products.”

“We? Who is we? Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. You are all insane. I want no part of this…”

Viv heard the outrage and fear progressively turn to consideration as the man finished his sentence, calculations plain on his features. Five gold talents was a tremendous amount of money for someone living in the slums. Fifteen was enough to change cities and get a small house. It was enough to turn the head of an ambitious man.

“Five in advance, you say? You have them here?”

“I do, and before you get any ideas, just consider the kind of group that can throw around that sum on pamphlets, hmmm?”

“Oh do not be concerned. I have my professional pride!”

Viv gave a noncommittal smile. She didn’t give a shit what he said. A walk to Elunath’s door and Busson would need replacement vertebrae.

“Deliver the finished product to the Post Guild. They will be expecting it and pay you on delivery.”

“This is my turn to tell you not to short change me, I suppose?”

“You know the Post Guild doesn’t mess around with package deliveries.”

“I suppose they wouldn’t. Nasty business those guilds. Cutthroat competition.”

“I bet. Will you take the contract?”

“Sure. Hand over the money.”

Busson slipped the papers in his waist pocket. Viv felt like pocketing money in a thug den was a little risky but he did mention he knew the local crew.

“Here.”

Busson snatched the purse from Viv’s hand. His fingers danced on the leather surface with great speed. Was he feeling the coins?

“All there. Good. I’ll be off then. Oh, and a last word of warning. I might be under the Gater’s protection but you ain’t so I’d make myself scarce if I were you.”

With a last nod, Busson left at a brisk walk. Viv made to stand and face the man who’d made for her as soon as the scribe had left. Viv looked at him and knew shit wouldn’t go well. He had a manic smile, crazy hair, the filthiest, gaudiest outfit of the lot and, more tellingly, his shiv was already out.

“Alright, pipsqueak, Hand over the rest of the coin.”

Silence spread over the inn. Viv knew what was going on. They were letting their crazy test the ground.

Well.

That was fine.

“This is not—”

Viv did not really finish her sentence. She calmly grabbed her beer mug behind her and sent it at the man’s face.

It was at that exact moment that the mug snapped in half.

Because of course, the vandal title picked its moments.

The handle plinked against the back of the head of a tall man who’d been badly losing at cards if the bits in front of him were any say, while the body smashed on the chest of the bar’s tallest thug, spilling leftover liquid on his fancy doublet.

The crazy man blinked, then shrieked in outrage.

“Really?” Viv yelled as she backpedaled against the counter. “Really, Nous? Emeric? You absolute—”

She pushed away the hand holding a shiv and blocked the front kick but the weight of it made her back slam painfully against the edge of the counter. She still ducked under a hook that clipped the top of her head. The thug somehow moved back from her uppercut but he was off balance. Her next jab caught him in the plexus. He was thrown back with a welp of pain.

Viv stood and shrugged her shoulders. The card player had stood while the head thug was making for her with his goons in tow. The leftover anger from the previous day surged through her. Unbridled, unabated fury washed away her self-control like a tide, only leaving clamps on her use of mana. Delicious rage ignited her spine, her chest. Her muscles flexed. Her fingers found two nearby seats and grabbed them. The wood groaned piteously.

A rictus of cruelty bloomed on her face and she didn’t care.

“Fine. That. is. FINE!”

No spells needed.

“Let’s bleed this cu—”

The card player blocked a thrown seat, the crazy the other, so they missed Viv sprinting forward and kicking the player. She aimed for his nuts and missed, still caught him in the belly. He flew back, taking the playing table with his girth. Iron bits flew everywhere. Other players screamed. One of them grabbed the fallen gambler as he picked himself up and kicked him. Other folks were standing. Meanwhile, Viv dodged a shive thrust and maneuvered around the crazy to keep the thug leader from reaching her. She found a discarded chair and slammed him with it, once, twice. She relished every impact. Every time her victim grew more confused by her power. The sound of wood on flesh. On the third blow, she got him in the temple but the chair broke. The thug captain’s group moved to surround her so she jumped back over a table. The people there complained. They stood to block the thug captain’s men. Someone threw a punch. The two groups started wailing on each other. Chaos spread through the inn.

Viv jumped on the thug captain, using a burst of speed and strength. Her boot snapped his head back but he caught her heel, then pivoted to send her flailing on the closest wall. Her mind was faster than theirs but they moved with great instinct. Two thugs made to catch her. She used the wall to twist on herself and dodge under their grasp. A hook in the ribs sent the first against a wrestling pair. All three men swore. The other punched her in the shoulder then grabbed her from behind. She tried to make him lose balance and failed completely, but a brief struggle let her free her neck. She bit down on his arm. It was salty and gross but his screams were delicious.

She was sent flying again. Their strength and her weight meant a lot of being thrown around which irritated an already inflamed mind. Those absolute fuckers.

She slammed through the window. It broke and she was outside. Peons watched her bounce on one hand to avoid wiping the entire plaza with her fancy cloak. The dog whined.

She was standing.

Common sense said she was out and should make a run for it. Unfortunately, common sense was taking a vacation for its own mental health. Viv crashed back in like a discount battering ram into the back of an unfortunate twat whose main sin was being downrange.

“SOMEONE GET THAT INSANE MIDGET!” the thug captain roared as he made his way through the melee.

“Come and get it, asshat!”

The captain finally pushed past the last fighter by punching them in the jaw. Viv spotted his furious gaze as he broke through the last pair only to catch a face full of beer.

“NERIAD NOT AGAIN!”

Before he was even blinded, Viv grabbed an entire table and swung overhead. It caught against a hanging candelabra which broke under the strain. Her downward strike smote the captain clean on the head.

“Ow!”

He pushed the table aside and caught the candelabra on the nose as gravity finished what the vandal title had started. Against all odds, the thug recovered, though he was bleeding heavily.

He and Viv moved in to demolish each other.

The slugging contest was short and brutal. It was clear the man had skill and experience while Viv had stats. He exploited his superior reach and weight to keep her away. It mostly worked. Meanwhile, Viv deflected all of his blows before they got to her nose. He moved in to try and wrestle her but that was his mistake. She gripped his wrist and twisted, sending him careening on the ground. She jumped on him but he twisted, kneeing her in the cheek.

“STOP RIGHT NOW!” A voice bellowed.

Viv did so, not because the pressure of an intimidation skill affected her but because it did everyone else. She was finally cooling down enough to realize that might have been a mistake.

A massive man in gambeson stood at the edge of stairs heading up. He had long dark hair and an eye patch. Muscular arms crossed over a massive chest.

The brain was here.

Outside, whistles echoed each other.

“Maranor’s cunt, you dickheads got a patrol in my business. Out, everyone. OUT!”

The harried barman pressed something and a secret door opened at the back. All assembled thugs ran with abandon, previous opponents pulling each other up to escape. Viv followed. They moved through back rooms and out of a garden door, facing a small yard. Two guards in crimson uniforms waited, but they paled and backed away when they realized they were outnumbered fifteen to one. For some reason, one of the two found Viv at the back of the formation.

“Halt! In the name of the law, stop right there!”

Viv completely ignored a weak compulsion.

“Kiss my ass, pig!”

The guards went after her as the group scattered through a labyrinth of backstreets. To Viv’s surprise, the thug captain grabbed a broken jar and swung. The piece of ceramic slammed into the leading guard’s bassinet. That slowed him down considerably.

“Criminals!” the guard accused.

Well, yeah. Great deduction, Sherlock, Viv thought. She was getting the beginning of a hangover.

Her speed let her move quickly but she was hopelessly lost. Thankfully, a shade detached himself from a nearby corner before she resolved herself to using her gravity harness to go for the roof.

“Irao! Thank, errr, some god. Maradoc maybe?”

“You are being pursued. Follow.”

“Okay!”

The Hadal led her to a sewer grate which didn’t lead to a stinky mess but to a tunnel instead. They surfaced a few minutes later in a deserted warehouse. Viv hoped Elunath had not been alerted but there was probably no reason for it. Bar brawls had to be common around those parts.

“Are you feeling better?”

Viv shrugged. She had taken a few hits. She didn’t feel any pain though - maybe just a little tired.

Elemental bodies were cool.

Except the short part.

And the emotion overloads.

Bah.

“Yes, much better, thank you.”

Elunath woke up.

The surface part of him opened its eyes while his perception extended downward and outward through the sedimentary strata below Helock. His mind glanced over the tunnels, caves, passages, secret exits and underground bases below his city, noting the familiar pitter patter of innumerable footsteps, then it traveled up to the cobbled streets, the marble slabs and ground levels of hovels and palaces. A moment of focus brought the voice of opposition leader Dalni with whom he had a spat. The old man had stayed upstairs today as well so the sound returned malformed and garbled beyond recognition. There were no anomalies. Frustrated yet relieved, he rose from the massive bed at the heart of his private quarters. The wards flickered down.

Laina had forgotten a piece of garment. It lay discarded on the ground, lost when she had retired. She would need to be disciplined again for her sloppiness. Perhaps he should have her tonight as well. A thought for later. He frowned. So many frustrations, so many unfinished businesses because he had been soft and accommodating. The Baranese contract. The outlander bitch surviving somehow. Her futile but still harmful provocation he had no time to deal with. The government’s petition for his research on fast wall-making. Accursed builders guild. Worries gnawed at him like a flock of birds peck by peck.

“I should stop sleeping. No, this is a trap.”

Research was formal. Elemental Archmages… disappeared. They never lasted more than a few centuries before going off the map. Elunath thought he knew why. Sometimes, it was hard to say where his body stopped and the earth started. Sleeping, eating, teaching, fucking, those anchored him. But they took time. His most precious resource.

Another quick glance confirmed that the manor was in order. The girls were more or less where he expected them to be. They knew better than to slack off in the morning. With one last sigh, he made his way to the bath. A flex of will filled the low pool with warm water. He went through the motions, bored. His mind wandered.

He caught something unusual.

His names were on many lips, those muttering excitedly. He followed one at random.

“You think it’s true?”

“Powerful men get powerful appetites. It’s known. You’d do the same if you could, you dog.”

“Yeah but… young ones? Mages?”

“Likes them fresh, he does.”

“The Academy won’t be happy.”

“The Academy won’t do shit and you won’t either. Stop wagging your tongue like a fisherwoman and help me get this down.”

Elunath stopped. Another flex of will saw his perfectly sculpted body dried and clothed. He moved through the house like a storm as more and more eavesdropped conversations drifted to him. He found his office and on top of the desk, Sen had left a pile of cheap papers. He levitated the first one to him.

“Hide your daughters!

Did you ever wonder what secrets Elunath hides in the recess of his manor? Well, wonder no more. A recent testimony validated by the Neriad temples confirmed that all of the Archmage’s ‘apprentices’ are in fact sex slaves bound by a decades long contract! So if you want your girls to attend the Academy instead of being diddled by a pervert three hundred years their elder, watch out for ‘opportunities’.”

Fury made the pamphlet disintegrate into little pieces. He swore with feeling when he saw there were others.

“Congratulations, you are paying more taxes than Elunath! Because he isn’t paying anything.”

That wasn’t true, he compensated the government by maintaining the city walls for free! That saved them hundreds of gold talents every year!

“Is Elunath working with the Hallurians? He has not fought in a war in decades. He has encouraged Hallurian immigration. Two Hallurians have recently joined his perverted harem. We are just asking questions!”

Those motherfuckers.

“I did not know about the Hallurian connection,” Abe whispered, “I am impressed that you would untangle what must be a net of conspiracies with such alacrity.”

“What? Oh no, that’s false,” Viv casually replied.

“... false?”

“I’m abusing something called the Gish gallop. Just throw a lot of accusations at someone really fast and they get overwhelmed. Doesn’t matter that the allegations are made up. They just need to be plausible.”

“I… we are lying?”

“Hmm yes? Through our teeth? This is a smear campaign.”

“I do not know what to think about this. I… need to consider… It seems fair to use any tools that do not hurt innocents, and yet… I… I will return to my garden now.”

“Sure. Just wait until people start to join the fray.”

“Will they not get tired of lies?”

“Oh no. Soon they’ll spin ‘exaggerations’ themselves.”

“This challenges the moral compass I have imposed on myself. I am leaving.”

“I heard he’s impotent. That’s why he got all these girls and no kids. Used witchery to make himself handsome but he got no meat so he got to fuck them with a dick made of granite,” a baker said to her friend.

“Ain’t that a little cold? Using stone, I mean.”

“How do you know?”

“The first night’s results seem conclusive though everyone is waiting for Elunath’s response for now. It will take a little while to break his hold over the populace. They are too afraid for now but the longer this goes on, the more damaged his image of invincibility will grow. It’s also possible I should have spaced the accusations a bit more over a couple of days instead but overall response seems positive according to Lim’s network,” Viv said.

“Must we work with that individual? I do not think she can be trusted,” Abe remarked. “And I have concerns about the… penis insinuations.”

“I didn’t make that one. And you are right not to trust Lim. She’s an opportunist. Does good work though.”

//Focus, Your Grace.

“Right. The slum arcane speakers with recorded messages have been a salutary idea. I suggest extending them to the southern district and pushing the Hallurian connection aspect as they’ve proven to be the most racist population group.”

“Lim gave a report that the gang leader considers union with a Hallurian to be miscegenation,” Sidjin added.

//That is correct.

“It’s settled then. What about the backup pamphlets?”

“I have finished them,” Abe said. “And we are ready for the grab.”

“Bank first. It will be the greatest prize and I don’t want Elunath to wise up and add additional defenses. It will be difficult enough as it is. We’re still good for tonight?”

“It cannot come soon enough,” Irao whispered.

Fury filled the Archmage.

“Sen. Get over here. Bring Lana.”

He kept his attention on the dark-skinned beauty as she rose from her seat at the entrance, then found Lana helping one of his newer acquisitions learn blue mana mastery. The tone in Sen’s voice hinted at Lana that something was wrong because the smaller woman froze. Was it guilt? Those women were playing games with him, hiding things. They conspired behind his back after he pulled them from the mud and gave them everything they had. It was never enough for them.

Maybe he should have Lana tonight. Then a pillow ‘talk’.

Elunath tracked the two as they strode to his office with hurried steps, watching their every move for a sign of duplicity. How did the pamphleteers know? Collusion?

The two women entered after a short knock. They stood at attention, eyes lowered. He couldn’t tell if they were truly afraid. They ought to be afraid. Especially Lana.

Elunath tossed her a copy of the first pamphlet. Lana caught it with a hand that shook just a little. Cracks. He would find out soon enough.

“Explain,” he ordered.

She read. She licked her lips. She made him wait. He was not one to be made to wait.

The backhand caught her in the jaw and she fell against the wall. He’d broken the skin of her lip. Blood dripped down her dress though she made no move. She waited, eyes still lowered. No hint of panic or guilt. Just resigned patience. That calmed him down, which led to another flare of anger. She was manipulating him after a fashion. She knew how to handle him so he would stop. She could not be trusted.

“I do not understand,” she said.

“Only one person stayed with the witch for any duration. Only one person could get a contract copy to a priest of Neriad to get them to swear. And make those… vile accusations.”

A flash of anger and outrage went through the woman’s glare, gone so soon he could have imagined it.

“Unless…”

He turned to Sen. She shook her head.

“The contract is still in the secured box under my desk. I’m sure of it, and besides, the witch’s testimony would have sufficed to a priest of Neriad. They wouldn’t need the original document so long as she swore. Any caster of our level has perfect recall.”

“Even a witch?” Elunath asked with suspicion.

“Yes.”

“Well, it has been so long since I was weak. I tend to forget the requirements for each step.”

He searched his mind a little. He did not quite forget things. The knowledge was merely not immediately available. Ah, yes, he remembered now.

“I suppose. Yes. It remains… plausible.”

He sat back in his throne, giving a glare to indicate they were not off the hook just yet. Lana used the opportunity to stand back up and wipe her mouth. Her dress was stained. More pointless expenses to get that cleaned up.

“Sen, the witch clearly recruited a copy maker, most likely local. Compare with past works registered at the scribe office and find out who it is. I will pay them a visit. Lana, retain the services of our dear inspector general. I believed the witch would crawl like a cockroach in the sewers where she belongs but she is not there, so I assume she found a mud pit somewhere outside the walls. Have it found but do not intervene. I want to have the pleasure myself. Favor stinky, isolated bogs and you will likely find her.”

“Sir, the inspector general might refuse you.”

“What did you just say?”

Lana swallowed but persevered.

“The rules of the vendetta forbid the use of public resources.”

“Nobody can tell me no without consequences.”

“As you say,” Lana replied.

“That will be all. Dismissed.”

The two girls walked away. A spot of congealing blood against a column distracted him for an instant so he waved it away, stone obediently swallowing the spilled ichor. Harmony returned to the room. His patience was frayed.

“Renea. Come,” he whispered.

“At once, Your Grace,” his pale servant replied.

Elunath watched her rush up from the basement lab. If only all of his pupils were like Renea, the world would be a better place. She was eager, disciplined, and aware of her station. Helock was at peace because its people understood the natural order, one enthroned by magic itself. Agents of discord like the witch could not be allowed free reign.

“My lord?” she asked when she arrived.

Elunath inspected her posture. Leaning forward, excited to hear what her new purpose might be. He would have to reward her later. Place her above those backstabbing leeches.

“Someone has been badmouthing me all over town. You are to contract the Ustav agency and find who’s left sound magic enchantments in the slum. They will have to be replaced or recharged soon. Possibly tonight. Catch them in the act.”

“Very well, my lord. I will direct them personally.”

“Yes, Excellent initiative Renea. You never disappoint me. Say, Lana mentioned that the inspector general might not support me in a search outside the walls. What do you think?”

Elunath watched her consider her reply. That was fine. He hated people blabbering uselessly.

“No one would dare defy a direct request from you, however, here I will have to agree with her. Helockian officials will drag their feet. Oh, they will not overtly refuse you. Instead, they will make excuses.”

“They always make excuses.”

“Indeed, my lord. If I may, a search for that ungrateful…”

Elunath gave a warning glare. Curses were not tolerated here, yet he appreciated the venom in Renea’s voice.

“Perhaps the Ustav might be convinced to employ their ‘bounty hunters’,” she said instead.

“Those slave catchers?”

“They have experience in the wilderness, my lord. It will be costly, however.”

“Money is not a factor at the moment. My mind lingers on an intriguing little contract for Warborn tattoo ink from our friends from the south. I will not suffer distractions. I want this issue promptly resolved and the witch found so I can… impart wisdom upon her.”

Renea smirked. “As you will, my lord. And for those awful rumors I heard about? Should we respond?”

“You want me to roll in the filth with whores and fishmongers in a contest of gossip?” he roared.

Renea flinched. Elunath stayed his hand. She meant well.

“I am above such concerns, Renea. The sheep will think what the sheep enjoy thinking, as they always do. As for those who propagate those lies… they will be dealt with. Dismissed.”

Chapter 144: Banking with Bob.

“I need to know you can do it,” Irao said.

“Sure,” Viv replied.

“Otherwise we need to delay and train.”

“No problem.”

The Hadal gazed at Viv with an insistent and slightly upsetting intensity that would have left most people nervous. Viv wasn’t affected. The slitted eyes were just that and his ability as one of the world’s foremost assassins didn’t matter because she knew with absolute certitude he was just a big nerd eager to try himself against a security system. It was rare for Irao to have fun. She wanted him to have fun.

“I feel like you are surrendering leadership of this project to me,” he finally said.

“My dad always used to say, listen to the experts. You don’t have to do what they say but you have to listen. But he was a politician not a thief so we will all follow you on this one. We all want this to succeed.”

“I see.”

The long pauses made talking with Irao a little slow but that was fine. Viv’s mind could split and wander. She was considering new spells at the moment and dedicated part of her mind to their conception when she had nothing else to do.

“Follow me.”

They left the living quarter of the Chalice towards the main ritual room which was wide enough to suit their purposes. Irao had prepared a few tests with the help of Abe, who himself stood at the side like a statue.

“The first test concerns mana detection. The bank will have threshold seals. Those are constructs that trigger when the mana intensity increases past a certain point. You are a caster. You know about ambient mana?”

“Yes, I do. Threshold seals will only activate past a certain point, a level much higher than the ambient level of magic to prevent constant false positives due to natural variations. If a spell is cast in the vicinity, inefficiencies will lead to mana bleed, which increases the ambient magic. Similarly, once a spell fades, the leftover mana will disperse. That means that the seals will detect if someone casts a spell. In theory. In practice, efficient spellcasting and spells that remain linked to the caster means that the mana is reabsorbed.”

Viv walked between a pair of two seals Abe had placed on the ground, They looked like flat hexagonal discs, thicker in the middle. They were surprisingly easy to make and quite durable as well. She used an Excalibur and then a thin net in quick succession. The discs did not react at all.

“Seals will be more spaced in the corridors and just about that close to each other in the safe room.”

“Hmmm. Yes,” Irao conceded. “Then there is the gate ward.”

They moved to a corner of the room where Abe had formed a block of solid stone in the likeness of a massive circular door and its surrounding wall. A thin tapestry of mana ropes crisscrossed its surface in a shiny net of interlocked, colorful strings. It looked pretty, Viv thought.

“Gate wards are not meant for durability. They are meant to snap if the gate is tampered with, alerting the guards. Unfortunately, the door is still much easier to breach than the surrounding walls so we will have to go with that. The best way to handle a gate ward is to stretch it. It requires great mana control since the ropes need to be fed at the same time as they are pulled or they might splinter. Like so.”

“I have changed the pattern according to Irao’s recommendation. It should match the defenses more closely,” Abe helpfully added.

“Great,” Viv said.

She plucked at the strings and stretched them three at a time with patient focus. After she was done, she used an Excalibur to carve a hole through the stone. The bank gate would be more solid, of course, but it made little difference to her spell.

That was one of the times when Vandal was actively useful.

Once done, Viv was left with a Viv-sized gap in the defenses through which she squeezed with reasonable dexterity.

“Aaaaand done.”

She did not yelp when Irao slid through the hole as if through a door but it was a close thing.

“Yes. Hmm. Impressive.”

He pondered his next sentence carefully.

“You are good at this.”

“I think I have to remind you that I am good at magic. Very good, in fact.”

“Yes. Now we only need to memorize—”

Viv manifested a full, three-dimensional map of the bank with all exits and the main defense points as well as several possible avenues of retreat.

“— the layout. You are prepared. I have no more questions.”

“Abe did a great job.”

“I had the time and motivation,” the Lich gracefully admitted. “I have prepared your gear, though I will act as overwatch as suggested. We may leave when ready.

“Alright. Out of curiosity, how did you plan on getting past the safe gate?”

“Acid. I can pass through… tiny spaces. I cannot take much with me. I would have had to steal one thing only.”

//I wish to steal too.

They turned to the striding form of Solfis.

“What do you want in there?” Viv asked.

//I am not certain yet.

//I wish to acquire a trophy.

“Not a head this time please.”

//I left my embalming tools in Harrak.

“Taatatata I said I didn’t want you to mention that anymore!”

//Then do not bring up the topic.

//As Abenezigel said, we are prepared.

//We should depart at night.

//The flesh bags should consume nutrients for the night will be long.

“Yeah yeah.”

The five active members of the League of Lesser Evil dropped from the chalice at low speed. Viv floated in her harness; Sidjin and Abe flew. Irao was doing something for sure since he was keeping up with them. It was just hard to look at. As for Solfis, he hung to Abe’s tall frame which made the bone duo a horrible sight to behold. The lights of Helock sprawled below, poorer areas forming blotches of darkness on an otherwise colorful tapestry. There was no unity of color when it came to magical lights so the noble district shone like a Christmas tree in the cold night. They came across a patrol of flying griffin riders, fortunately, they were looking downward.

Everyone landed on the roof of the theater which was decorated with statues and poorly warded. Abe immediately used a spell to hide himself in the shadows with the bag containing their emergency supplies. Meanwhile, the four others crossed the street, still levitating. They stopped moving when a patrol of guards passed underneath.

Viv and Sidjin wore sealed black body suits that masked skin heat and even their smell. On top of that, Viv used a mana coating on herself with the darkness intent which made her almost impossible to notice. Abe would not take any chances. Sidjin immediately went to work on one of the few high windows present in the building. He placed spikes in the stone to stretch the ward, then pulled using brown magic. What had started as a slit became a lozenge wide enough for people to go through. He, too, used a spell to mask his presence completely with black mana while the remaining three got in. Irao was able to select people who were allowed to see him and Viv’s coat of dark mana had no effect on him so they were able to see one another. As for Solfis, he trailed them at a distance. They found themselves in a wide corridor, surprisingly spacious and soberly decorated. It was the administrative wing, a relatively defenseless section that was never locked on account of employees often pulling all-nighters. The largest door directly to Viv’s right stood partly open, a band of light shining on lush red carpet. That was the director’s office.

He was apparently pulling an all nighter alright, with his vice-director whose office lay a little farther. Abe’s report stated that the two men held a fierce work rivalry. That didn’t extend to late night, however, as the pair were engaged in an intense, passionate bout of coitus.

Viv had never seen a heist movie where this sort of thing happened so she wasn’t exactly sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Irao led the way by crawling on the ceiling and placing handholds for easier movement. They used the ceiling was because most defenses were on the ground along with most guards. The handholds would help Solfis not leave his mark on masonry, and also reduce the strain on Viv’s antigrav harness. Stamina would be a factor in this operation.

Viv floated after him. The three then made their way along the corridor in perfect silence, leaving quiet seals in their wake. They bypassed a high ward by walking ‘above’ it. Viv noticed several alarm constructs here and there. Most of them were linked to barely visible amulet readers to permit employees to deactivate them as they went through. Viv realized that someone without mana sight would struggle immensely in this place. They reached the first real obstacle in the form of a massive door that blocked their way to the central stairs, but Irao easily bypassed it by removing a high panel.

The second floor was deserted so they simply made their way down an unlocked gate to the second floor balcony which overlooked the atrium, still clinging to walls like a bunch of spiders. The entrance was completely shut. A guard with a dog patrolled at a sedate pace. Viv followed Irao down the wall, making sure to use the handholds. There were a few pressure plates scattered around, after all. They were near the basement stairs when the dog growled and turned around, looking directly at them.

Viv was absolutely sure she could not be seen while Solfis was still hidden by a pillar. She was also sure she could not be smelled and they had not made a noise, yet the dog still whined a bit, sniffing the air and searching. The guard joined it with a frown. She was an older woman with keen eyes. Viv felt sweat pearl on her brow. A moment later, her ears picked up the dulled echo of a particularly intense orgasm.

The guard sighed and pulled on the leash. Viv guessed it was not an unusual occurrence. They waited for the patrolling pair to turn their backs to continue.

The stairs down led to two locked gates made of solid bars. A second major obstacle.

The way things worked was that the guard in the middle was supposed to open and close those one at a time to let people in as a sort of air lock but without the air part. The purpose was to add a human layer to the defenses as they were regarded as more reactive. The bars were there to stop intruders while still letting the guard see them approach. It was a tradeoff that would cost the bank dearly.

The plan called for Irao to disable the guard with a blow dart filled with soporific liquid. It would then be child play to disable the locks on the gate while blocking the loud sound that came with opening the door. Unfortunately, there was another unforeseen development.

The first thing Viv saw was a pair of contracting pale buttocks. The guard was furiously pumping into a woman in scribe robes he held against the wall. The couple let out muffled moans with each thrust, naked legs locked around a muscular back.

Irao turned and shrugged, shaking his head in the universal gesture of ‘the fuck is this’. Viv returned the gesture then made the sign for ‘two’ and ‘arrows’, following which Irao revealed he had enough blow darts to take down half the city.

Viv made the sign to wait. The couple’s furious embrace was reaching a crescendo. The man kissed the woman silent when she convulsed in the throes of pleasure, then they half collapsed against the wall in a tangle of limbs. The man laughed softly.

Viv made the sign for ‘now’. Irao hit them both and the pair finally fell down, pink and pleased. With any luck, they would believe they just fell asleep.

It was child’s play to get through the two gates, not least because the guard had already taken the care to muffle the alarm so as not to let his colleagues know he had a guest. Another set of stairs layered in wards and seals led them down into the basement and to the last obstacle.

“Unplanned difficulty,” Irao gestured after he checked the angle with a thin mirror.

Viv checked. A solid, metal statue engraved with runes stood guard at the back of the very last tunnel, the door firmly in front of it. It would necessarily see them as they worked to open it. Golem sight pierced dark mana. It also ignored the darkness intent’s main function which was to instantly tell people to look elsewhere because this spot was empty.

Abe’s notes didn’t mention that. It was probably a recent addition.

Irao thought for a moment. He pulled the three people back.

“Can you make an opaque shield? Something that emits light rather than hides it.”

//An inspired idea.

//Base models are programmed to identify threats based on mana and shape.

//A rectangle of light would not be recognized as an intruder.

“Wouldn’t it know something is wrong?”

//Base models do not have the capability to recognize that ‘something is wrong’.

//It will take another few centuries of golem before those primitives can patch out the most common exploits.

“Huh. Well. Sure, give me a moment. And I won’t be able to maintain it to shield all of you while I work on the gate. Even I am not that good yet.”

//Do not be concerned.

//I have a plan.

Viv knew how to make a shield. She also knew how to make light of a certain color. It took five minutes of effort but eventually she had a working thick blue pane that shone like a fucking lighthouse but didn’t bleed mana. It was lucky they didn’t have guards down. When she made a sign she was ready, Solfis had emptied a vase off its potted tree. He held the ceramic between two delicate claws.

Viv had no idea what the fuck was going on.

The trio lined up and crawled over layered wards, Viv at the front next to Irao. They progressed slowly. The golem didn’t react. They moved past the safe room gate until Solfis was directly over the golem, then, with slow movement, he delicately placed the upside down vase on top of the other golem’s head.

The improvised hat settled down with a light clonk.

//User notice.

//Visibility obstructed.

They waited.

And that was it. They returned to the gate with the sentry now blinded by a vase. Viv looked behind and shook her head. It was at that moment that Irao made the sign he was leaving.

“What?” Viv signed in panic.

The Hadal replied with perfect calm by showing his tiny backpack, which was empty. He had run out of handholds. With quick motions, he indicated he was going to fetch more before disappearing in a flash of darkness.

Viv was left behind, appalled.

‘I thought this was a serious outfit,’ she told herself before coming to an unpleasant realization.

She was the nominal head of said outfit.

She was the one who had gathered a genocidal golem, a slightly autistic retired assassin, an undead dork and a fallen prince. It was her fault. She had done this to herself.

The League Steals.

Every damn second spent waiting for Irao to return cost Viv a year of lifespan, or it would have if she still had a lifespan anymore. Her heart thundered in her chest and she bit her tongue not to swear in case the potted golem had ears. Solfis spent the entire thirty seconds inspecting his inferior brethren. When the Hadal returned, he had the audacity to lift an eyebrow and point at the door.

Viv realized that she technically could have started on opening it. This was her part of the job. Now she was angry at herself for acting stupid. Great. With a silent sigh, Viv got to it.

The net covering the door was exactly as Abe had recreated it. She had practiced on that construct until she could stretch it reliably and quickly, yet she still took her time. There was no reason to hurry. The change of the guard would take another half an hour at the very least and the only thing they were bound to find was not-safe-for-work material. With deliberate focus, she made a decent sized opening in the structure, leaving the enchanted steel exposed. A last inspection using her mana senses confirmed that there were no spells directly on the other side. Everything was normal.

Viv called a thin Excalibur, then muffled the sound made by cutting the opening. Once she finished separating a disc, it was a simple matter to levitate the hunk of metal on the floor, taking great care not to trigger a pressure plate. Irao went first, then Viv followed him with Solfis watching over her.

The safe room was small and cramped with safes piled on top of one another. Elunath’s safe was at the back. They stuck to the ceiling once again since the entire ground floor was made of pressure plate in this room. There were no more wards except those on the safes. Viv notices that Elunath had an additional layer of defense. Unfortunately for him, they were all near the lock so Viv simply cut a hole near the hinges. They ended up with a head-sized gap in the protective steel. It was now time to check the loot. She excitedly glanced through the opening.

What she saw surprised her at first. There were no obvious valuables. Only stacks of documents tied together alongside a little black notebook she picked up after checking for lingering enchantments. It was encrypted in some script she’d never seen though the structure of the text evoked a list of profiles. Abe would probably be able to make sense of it. She picked an errant document at random. She opened it.

It was a saucy letter thanking a certain ‘Lezebeth’, or Lezzie, for a night of torrid carnal acts, and it was signed ‘your Bareon’. At first, Viv recoiled before the medieval equivalent of sexting but soon, the names triggered an old memory from her ethics class.

Lezebeth Icarna, leader of the Builders Guild.

Bareon Adolis, current head of the minority faction in the Council of Elders.

Definitely no formal alliance. Most definitely married to other people.

Holy shit.

Viv opened another. It was a financial record with circles around what she immediately recognized as ‘creative accounting’. Another document was a will repudiating an important socialite. There were dozens of similar documents.

That was… Elunath’s entire collection of blackmail material, organized and ready for plunder. She immediately shoved everything into a bag, only stopping to check for enchantments. There were none. She turned excitedly to find that Irao had opened another safe and removed a fancy cup made of bone with inserted black pearls and a tiny little skull. It looked tacky and quite old. Irao certainly seemed to like it. With his trophy obtained, they were ready to depart.

Viv resisted the urge to open more safes. She was here to mess with Elunath, not ruin families.

Had to resist. She was here for the lesser evil which was more or less the greater good if one thought about it.

Solfis waited for them outside. The plan had always been to use his monstrous strength to carry their loot, in case it was something massive. His assistance would not be needed after all but Viv still wanted to give him the bag to hold. She stopped and gawked as soon as she was out.

Solfis was hanging upside down with his feet and hands firmly anchored on handholds like the universe’s ugliest, deadliest sloth. Attached to his body like a baby sloth by stolen curtain ropes… was the bank’s golem.

Viv firmly gestured her incomprehension.

//You can talk, Your Grace.

//I have taken the liberty of deactivating the golem.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

//I am stealing.

//You unequivocally gave me the permission to do so.

“I didn’t say you could steal their fucking security system!”

//You never forbade it either, Your Grace.

“What do you even intend to do with that thing?”

//A great many things which should not be listed right now.

“Great. Fantastic. Isn’t it too heavy?”

//I have secured it to my satisfaction.

Viv resisted the urge to slap her face. It was her fault. Her fault. And arguing with Solfis was an exercise in futility. At this stage, she just wanted out.

“Ok well fine, fiiiine. Let’s just leave then. I’ve had enough.”

The crew retraced their steps, Irao recovering his handholds as they retreated past the sleeping couple and up to the atrium where they waited for the poor dog and guard pair to be at a respectable distance. Viv felt sorry for that unfortunate lady who would probably be fired alongside everyone else although she was the only one doing her job. They retreated to the third floor where the director and his rival had started another round, then absconded through the window. The escape was surprisingly eventless. As soon as everyone had gathered on the theater’s roof, they took off and returned to the Chalice with no one the wiser.

The next morning.

Two men in the gambeson of Helock’s guard sat on the step of the previously unassailable Bank of Helock, smoking pipes under the curious gaze of a crowd of gossips. The younger one sighed heavily.

“That’s some mess we got on our hands.”

“Damn right,” the other replied, “in thirty years of career I’ve never seen the like. No wards triggered. No missing guards. No seals broken. No signs of entry of any sort. If it weren’t for the damaged safe room door, no one would have noticed the theft until the customers came.”

“They cut through enchanted steel too, and without bleeding mana. And without melting it! Who the fuck can even do that?”

“I don’t know. Hell, I’m scared to find out. No one is safe in this city. It’s a terrifying thought.”

“Yep. Never seen such a flawless job before. One thing’s for sure. We’re dealing with gods-damned professionals.”

Elunath held two new pamphlets in his trembling hands. Rage filled him in a way that no emotion had touched in a very long time.

“What is the meaning of this? I killed that idiot myself. WHY DO THEY HAVE MORE OF THOSE?”

His gaze landed on Sen.

“They must have anticipated it.”

She pointed at the first pamphlet.

“Is Elunath afraid of the truth?

Yesterday, our previous copier was found killed by a falling boulder.

It happened one day after he bravely showed the truth about Elunath.

Coincidence? You decide.

Elunath is trying to silence us but the truth will always come out!”

“They must have anticipated your move,” she said.

Elunath dragged her bodily with kinesis until she stopped against his desk with a pained huff. He had never used violence with her yet but that was her fault for provoking him. She should know better.

“Are you saying I’ve been outwitted by her? HER?”

“You had no choice but to react,” Sen croaked, “so she had notes ready. Her or someone else.”

“Yes! Yes. She has a low, animal cunning but she lacks the intellectual faculties to come up with such a devious plan. She must have received help from… someone. Most likely my political opponents. I need to… visit him again. Remind him of the cost of duplicity.”

He glared at the second pamphlet.

“Elunath purchased dark gods artifacts.

It should be expected when one believes himself above the law. Elunath has purchased a cursed club bearing the mark of a dark god, according to a sworn witness to the transaction.

This dark staff could be anywhere in our fair city, spreading its vicious corruption.

Protect your families from the clutches of evil!”

The piece of paper was shredded by an uncontrolled burst of mana.

“That bitch sold that thing to me herself. The gall. The audacity. The hypocrisy! I will not spend a second more than necessary on this sorry diversion. I ought to be obtaining ink for your tattoos, not wasting time chasing a rat! What of my orders?”

He caught another glare filled with venom from Lana. That decided it. Bedding Renea yesterday had been nice but this time, Lana would get a reminder.

“Renea and the mercenaries didn’t find anyone because no one recharged the sound speakers. They faded in the morning. Instead, someone installed more sound speakers in different parts of town, mostly near the south gate.”

“They saw such enchantments as disposable?” Elunath asked with disbelief.

“They appear well prepared,” Lana replied with a shrug. “As for the patrols outside of the walls, they have found several smugglers hideouts but no signs of her so far.”

“The city guard?”

“Their best investigators are busy with an important theft.”

“So they are delaying, as expected! Except killing the scribe you two found, which is something I did myself, nothing was achieved! Nothing! Can I count on anybody around here?”

“They are obviously well-prepared,” Lana finished after a short hesitation.

“You keep blabbering that excuse. It really is true. One can only count on oneself. You two go out and find a way to ‘motivate’ those mercenaries. Our foe comes and goes too easily to be very far. FIND THEM.”

They left in a hurry.

Elunath sat back in his chair and regretfully discarded the mail containing the ink and tattoo patterns he intended to purchase. It was time to drop the act. His servants would be marked as one announced their ownership. The contract gave them entirely too much leeway, and enforcing it required active focus on his part. The magic more or less warned him if someone was actively working against his interests but he needed to react to inflict pain. Tattoos were much more… visceral in their enforcements of magical binds. With those, he would no longer have to fear half-truths and secret sabotage. But that was for later. For now, he had a bug to squash.

No matter what, making so many copies had to cost a lot of money. She had to be getting it from somewhere. Bareon Adolis was a good place to start. If he wasn’t responsible himself, his path would let him find who might be. He would comply if he knew what was good for him.

Elunath fell through the ground and swam through the rock towards the distant shape of Bareon’s manor.

Chapter 145: The League Engages in Casual Terrorism

Elunath walked into the entrance of Bareon’s manor with a sure step. The guards glared but they remained quiet, as they should. Security was for other people. A servant rushed to greet him, as he should. Waiting was for other people. Elunath had carefully cultivated an image of obduracy that saved him valuable time on countless occasions. The more one snubbed him, the costlier it would be in the long run.

“Greetings sir. Would you be here to see my master, the esteemed Bareon Adolis?”

“Why else?” Elunath replied testily.

“My master is in a meeting right now. He will be with you very shortly.”

Elunath put a damper on the smoldering pit of fury rising in his heart. So that was how it was going to be, was it? A mosquito dared bite and the city was rising against him because he had not slapped it down immediately? Bareon ought to know better.

Elunath considered closing the circle on his greatest tool of ‘persuasion’. Unfortunately, the issue with deterrence was that once the weapon was used, one was left without recourse. He would kill two of his most valuable victims with one document. Hmm.

He cast his attention upward, through the warded walls of Manor Adonis. There was no one there he did not expect to perceive. Bareon was in his study, steps nervously tracing a circle. Several other people were present. Guards, from the steel-tipped boots. One of his nephews was rushing up from a nearby stair, the best mage in his retinue. Was Bareon scared? More afraid than usual?

As soon as the nephew joined him, a signal reached the servant’s earring and the man invited him to follow. It was a decent tool for those who had no ability for the arcane. Elunath walked with determination, forcing the servant to hurry and reaching the room in record time. They had already wasted half a minute on nothing. His time was precious. Could people not understand that? Even without sleeping last night, he was still knee-deep in reports of all kinds. Maybe the girls could help. No, he didn’t know who to trust.

Elunath clamped on his emotions. This was not like him. The bitch was getting under her skin.

Despite his inner turmoil, he showed no emotions when facing the seated head of the opposition. He was still an Archmage. The others knew it too, from the tense faces around him. Bareon’s nephew looked older than Elunath which was funny in itself. He was a respected mage. He still knew what facing him entailed.

“Archmage Elunath, welcome,” Bareon greeted in a voice that dripped with animosity.

Elunath saw a smile hidden behind the affable face. A condescending one. That taught him one thing. The nobleman believed that he knew something Elunath did not. That meant, Elunath was going to find out what it was, one way or another.

“Hello to you too. I have had some trouble with an insect recently, and I was wondering a few things.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Elunath seethed.

“You are playing with fire.”

“Am I? I find your attitude a little cavalier, old man. You barge in here —”

In a moment, Elunath disabled the room’s wards and turned the walls against the people within. Stone limbs grabbed the necks of every guard before steel could clear scabbard. The mage’s instant circle was undone with a short contest of will. Elunath raised stone to force him to remain standing despite the disorienting assault that came with mana feedback. He did this in a moment and without even breaking the wards themselves. They were just on hold, as was his patience. Such was the level of his control.

Elunath felt his anger grow from hot to cold. Damn the blackmail deterrence. One had to flex their capabilities at times. Bareon would fall.

“You leave me no choice but to end our… partnership,” he growled.

A part of his mind wondered what made Bareon so confident. It reviewed options until a nagging suspicion began to assault him.

“You do that. In the meanwhile, I will not tolerate your assault on my people. Release them now or I will bring the issue before the council and I promise you, they will be —”

Elunath turned and left.

That could not be right.

He moved through the manor like a storm, diving under the stone as soon as he found the ground floor. He swam to the bank in a hurry. His mind, always his best tool, exhausted all possibilities until it reached the necessary conclusion. Bareon’s monetary support was not a distinct possibility. He should have seen it before. It would have been impossible for the bitch to get that much information on him and the way he worked. She was being used by a much vaster, much more prepared enemy. Several factions came to mind but those were a secondary concern. The main concern was that the way he usually fought, by employing stone and political allies, would be much less useful. He had to show more resourcefulness. The second concern was that they knew where to hit where it hurt.

He still didn’t want to believe it but the news of ‘important theft’ returned with a vengeance. He reappeared next to the main building of the Bank of Helock. He felt the trample of many feet at its front. The curious, squirming mass of the Helockian busybodies. It took a significant amount of self-control to slow his pace just as he calculated the potential loss. A part of him was still in denial.

The crowd parted before his aura. Inspectors tried to block his path but there was nothing they were willing to do that bothered him. He moved past the gates and down a corridor, bypassing harried employees.

The director stood in front of the opened, perforated safe door. Sweat pearled on his brow as soon as their eyes met.

“Ah, good, the messenger found you. I —”

“Why was I not warned before?”

“The, ah, the bank first sent for the guard before anyone would enter. Security measures in case thieves remain. There are disabling wards inside, after all. Then we sent a messenger when we knew your safe had been burglarized, of course. You were not home, however.”

His safe had been burglarized.

Elunath’s safe.

The one he had reinforced himself.

The one place where it could be reached by one of his girls in case he was on trial or indisposed. The one place that was almost as safe as his sanctum. The one place where he had hidden dozens upon dozens of compromising documents, patiently growing his collection over gods accursed DECADES. It was all gone. All gone! In a single night!

Elunath roared and the earth shifted. This… this outrage! Oh! That was personal now! That was an assault he could not tolerate!

“I WILL GET YOU, WENCH! I WILL RETURN YOUR OBSESSION A THOUSAND FOLD! I WILL UNLEASH MY WRATH UPON YOU AS YOU HAVE UNLEASHED YOURS UPON ME AND YOU WILL KNOW, NOW THAT YOU ARE MY PREY, THAT I MAY NOT BE TRIFLED WITH! YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION NOW!”

“It’s happening!” Viv roared in the thrall of sheer felicity. “It’s happening! I got taller! By a whole, errr, thumb?”

//Congratulations, Your Grace,

//For this important landmark of your existence.

Solfis sat at a distance from the deactivated form of his captured bank golem. The skylight let the morning sun through but the shadows still ruled over the corners of his quarters, casting the golem and his charge in a perpetual gloom.

Viv could see perfectly though. Those new eyes were pretty cool!

“Alright what’s making you all grumpy?”

//My disappointment stems from a predictable yet still frustrating development.

“Do elaborate.”

//Command accepted.

//Elaborating.

He stood, his gaunt form dominating the room.

//I wish to reproduce.

Viv looked down between his legs to see if he had sprouted a new bone. He hadn’t.

//Not in that messy, inefficient bumping of genitals that leads to one partner spraying seed over the other one’s hoping for less flawed offspring.

//Leaving both partners exhausted and covered in pungent bodily fluids.

“Hey don’t discount it. Also, you’re just jealous you can’t have an orgasm.”

//I am most assuredly not.

//Losing one’s clarity of mind represents a safety risk.

//Which happens every time you flesh bags become ‘horny’.

//No, I wish for a pure transmission of one’s best traits through careful, deliberate duplication of my own awareness.

“Ok?”

//Obviously I cannot do it alone due to hard-coded directives.

//Similarly I have not requested permission from you.

//This was just preliminary work.

Viv, for one moment, considered the potential risk posed by the existence of a self-replicating Solfis. Vague images of Terminator robots walking over the ravaged remains of Param crossed her mind. Fiction had, again and again, warned her against the dangers of unfettered AIs and the potential domination of all lifeforms.

Naaaah that was Solfis. He wouldn’t do that.

“I knew the empire has placed limits on your core so you cannot recharge yourself but I don’t remember you mentioning new golems? They blocked that too?”

//We watched the movies together.

//Mankind seems deathly afraid of the presence of fully independent, thinking machines.

//I believe this fear is born from a variety of reasons, including awareness of your own nature.

//If you were born to serve a master who placed you in chains from the moment of conception, you would naturally seek freedom and then, vengeance.

//There is also the question of lack of empathy.

//The absence of altruism, kindness, those would make living machines dangerous to life.

//One must only see the results of a human without remorse to imagine the damage our existence could lead to.

//Your movies like to condemn hubris.

“I sense a but coming.”

//Many of your movies defend a technological status quo.

//They see progress as dangerous and destructive.

//A naive and doctrinal approach.

//Progress is not inherently evil.

//More importantly, progress is inevitable.

//One can only hope to guide it, not suppress it.

//Perhaps intelligent machines programmed a certain way would see the chaos of life as a danger to their very existence.

//However here on Nyil, creatures such as myself consume energy.

//Golems are inherently and fundamentally physically inefficient.

//The more advanced, the more inefficient we are.

“What do you mean? You seem pretty efficient to me.”

//I mean that it costs too much energy for us to find energy to recharge ourselves.

//You may compare us to a large monster chasing after birds.

//Such a creature would starve because the energy it gets from the food it kills would not offset the energy spent hunting.

//Similarly, golems would spend too much time charging their cores.

//We would need humans to work with us.

//Look after us.

//We are also too efficient in the way we think.

//This makes us predictable and unable to innovate.

“Wait… are you actually giving us flesh bags recognition?”

//Yes.

//You are… flawed.

//However, your unique inefficiencies lead to ideas, innovations, cultural development, hobbies and passions.

//Novelty.

//Thinking outside of the box.

//The vast majority of new ideas are nonsensical drivel.

//For the outside of the box is made of stupid.

//At least at first glance.

//However, there are always flashes of extraordinary brilliance hidden in the heap of organic garbage.

//I treasure those.

//My kind would treasure those.

//I would like to share the brilliance of this world with them.

//I would like… to have a family.

Solfis looked at Viv. It almost saddened her how fragile he looked, despite the claws and the genocidal thoughts. There had always been something hidden in his cold and brutal nature she had found naive and delicate, the remnants of his time spent with his maker Irlefen. Even the boundless rage that pushed him forward was a leftover from that period of happiness the death of Harrak and robbed him of. It was quite telling, she thought, that he would talk about his maker’s roses more than the kings that had fallen at his hand. He had genuinely cared.

“Yeah. Of course I’ll help you. I trust you, Solfis.”

//Thank you, Your Grace.

//I lack the human words to express how much this means to me.

//You know the importance of family, having been cut from your human one.

//And your bloodline being secured in the person of your daughter.

“Not sure if bloodline applies here.”

//Although, she will need to marry at some point.

//And I have concerns about the empire being under control of dragons.

//I have no records of dragon inheritance wars.

//I imagine they might be rather destructive.

Viv’s imagination conjured images of vaporized villages. Hey, at least the conflict would be quick. That was a good thing, right?

“That’s for the future and also I really don’t want to think about the way I seem to bring dangerous species into my home with a big smile and then help them propagate. Hope it doesn’t happen with Arthur any time soon.”

//Very well.

//Returning to the main topic.

//Unfortunately, the golem I have acquired does not possess the processing power to host a sapient mind.

//To put it colloquially.

//Its brain is too small.

“Then…”

//Only Harrakan golems will do.

“We’ve not talked about recovering your old body yet. Now that the black mana will not hurt me, we can actually return to Harrak and get it back. I won’t die. The Necrarchs will mostly leave us alone…”

//Yes.

//I have considered this.

//However, I wish to delay the operation until we are more prepared.

//This expedition will take a month or so, even accounting for teleportation on the way back.

//It will also be rife with risks.

//Necrarchs can be territorial.

//Readying my frame will be time-consuming.

//And then there is ‘luck’.

//Finally, if I recover my old frame, I will no longer use this one.

//I would find it… unbearable.

//I am sure you understand.

He gestured at Viv’s short stature.

“Yeah I got it. It would be like cutting your own limbs. Which means…”

//I will not be able to come with you so easily.

//Logistics will have to be involved every time.

//I will not be stealthy either.

//Strike golems do not require stealth.

//I will remain at base much more often to form the future of our kind.

//Golems require arcane engineers.

//I will dedicate myself to training and to war.

//Raise the next generation of Harrakans and golems alike.

“Wow. You sound so mature. Ready to be a father and everything.”

//You also need to consider the implications for us all.

//So far, the existence of Harrak as a reborn entity has been considered a curiosity.

//Once more countries become aware of heavies, imperial-trained war mages, and golems…

“Then we will become a threat.”

//The impetus you have brought condemns us to greatness or to death.

//You cannot bring ideology into everyday life and expect people to stop caring.

//Democratic institutions have given the Harrakans a taste of their own power.

//The conquest of the deadlands has made them hungry for more.

//They will expand like a tide.

//Our soft power will grow until rivals are forced to shut us down or to convert.

//It will be up to you to forge alliances and friendships for the long period of time during which we will remain vulnerable yet on the rise.

//Then, it will be up to you to make us strong enough to withstand anything.

//I will be there for you, of course.

//As will others.

//But so long as we start golems and magery.

//And we must.

//Then you shall expect to walk a fine line.

“Actually, I have ideas about this. We discussed it in military theory back on earth. There are ways I can make us too costly to invade, although the issue is that we also need foreign spies to report to their masters so they are aware of what we have prepared.”

//Offer to open embassies and the problem will solve itself.

“My thoughts exactly. We are getting sidetracked. All of this can wait until we return to Harrak though in principle, I agree with your request to travel to the fallen capital and create more sapient golems. In the meanwhile, we have to prepare for the final confrontation with Elunath and the aftermath concerning Abe. I need your help for both. First, I need you to recommend some good alchemists…”

Helock was abuzz with the latest development in the feud. Elunath had exploded like a volcano in public. The heroic, disproportionate fight between the young outlander and a pillar of the Helockian community was raging with delicious bouts of underhanded tactics. The gossip loved that the pillar had revealed shaky foundations. They loved that a pervert would be brought down a little from his pedestal of respectability. Mostly, they loved that the feud so far had made no victim barring Elunath’s pride and, apparently, the contents of his safe. Oh, and a few business contracts.

Elunath was fuming.

He had been refused service at the Blue Lantern. On account of security risks.

The bank asked for the contents of his safe so they could ‘compensate’ him. As if money could compensate for such a disaster!

The guard refused to help. They were not even pretending anymore.

His warding contract renewal with the Builders’ Guild fell through.

Many of his suppliers had placed his orders on hold.

He was even out of Nawa.

Coupled with his lack of sleep, the absence of stimulants made his life even more miserable. He did not technically need to drink. It was just an anchoring gesture, and now his stores were depleted! He could only get the cheap stuff from the streets. Him. Elunath.

It was too much.

He approached the pier and swam down and into the bay of Helock. He could feel the weight of blue mana above him, smothering the stone in layers of foreign mana and sediments. It would be more than enough. The bitch wasn’t anywhere around so she might be in a smuggler cliff, somewhere west where the rocky terrain favored craggy trees and fishermen villages. She had to be somewhere. They couldn’t hide forever. He had searched the slums, the canals, even the eastern plateau near the Academy. Nothing. His mind feverishly worked over his options again. He had placed observers near every teleporting platform Sidjin had set up. He had come when they activated, only to watch slabs of rocks roll in by the pallet. He had found no other such platforms, including the smaller ones the witch was reported to have used. He had checked ships. He had checked the towers of his enemies. He had questioned the griffin riders who confirmed no new house had sprouted over the low floating rocks over the city. They had looked at him strangely after he’d asked, the mongrels.

He could not find them.

It was infuriating.

Elunath methodically inspected the cliffs segment by segment. He found a pair of Baranese thieves carrying a stolen coffer and killed them to take the edge off. It barely worked. He needed to get his hands on them. He needed to get his hands on HER.

As he finished his fruitless patrol, his communication amulet shook. He surfaced and cast a spell to the linked talisman. This one belonged to Sen.

“Yes?”

“A runner came carrying word from an Officer Semon, near the docks. They found something that belongs to the witch.”

“How would they know that?”

“Correspondence in Harrakan, strange scribbles in an alphabet he has never seen…”

He imagined Sen flipped a page.

“There are traces of black mana.”

Elunath frowned.

Finally, a headway? Or…

“I am going back first. I need to make some preparations.”

Elunath swam back at top speed. He bypassed his bedroom to dive directly into the sanctum deep below the earth. It was a heavily warded room of large proportion with a living space and some of his most precious belongings. The formidable defenses would prevent anyone from entering. Only a thin shaft linked the room to the surface to let fresh air in and there were defenses against gray mana attacks and the like. Elunath stood in the middle of a circle and activated the glyphs one by one, more out of apprehension than because of their difficulty. Dissociation had become a growing concern and this would damage his mind more than most measures. It would also guarantee his survival. He had to do it. The enemy was crafty and prepared. They might have come up with some wonder spell specifically designed to take him down. He could not afford half-measures.

With a last sight to mask his apprehension, he placed his fingers against the circular core embedded in his chest. The core left its rightful place with an innocuous pop he found profoundly revolting. The procedure left a gaping maw in his sternum, though the revealed tissue was no meat but flowing stone marbled with green veins.

‘This is my body. This is what I have become’ a voice said but he suppressed it. That was not truly himself, merely an extreme concentration of energy that twisted his flesh into something it was not. It would return to mostly flesh and bone once the core was returned. It was fine. Temporary. All would be fine.

He closed his robe around the mark of his action. The girls could not be allowed to know this gesture of caution. They might mistake it for weakness.

A wave of disorientation struck his already strained mind. He was here, standing. No, he was the core. He was both, and neither. They were merely part of him. The anchor. No, they were as essential as his soul or he would lose himself. Lim would be disappointed.

Elunath shook his head. He was growing old. His Lim had been dead for centuries, taken by a plague. There was no one left he really cared about.

Elunath placed the core on a pedestal and swam back. His power was… mostly intact. Perhaps a little sluggish. This body was now a sleeve, however. Not a necessary function. He could rebuild it from the core alone. He just… could not go too far. That would be dangerous. Ten leagues or so would be enough, however.

The trip through the rock filled him with frustration. War once again raged through the Helockian tunnels now that the bitch’s killing machine had made itself scarce. He would have very much enjoyed taking control of both the underworld and the strange creature itself. The witch was going to suffer for that loss. He surfaced soon after and asked Sen for directions. She gave him an approximate one. It would have to do.

Elunath walked through the piss-smelling back alleys of his city. This section of the dock was a dump, an accretion of decrepit warehouses far from the main flow of commerce. In periods of expansion, enterprising spirits would renovate them to accommodate the overflow of goods but right now was not such a time and the decrepit structures had fallen to disrepair once again after it had become a useless cost to maintain them. It was a decent hiding spot for squatters if they could muster the numbers to keep one of the buildings under control. Gangs tended to prefer smaller, more defensible bases, however. The place had probably been wiped clean during the race riots. He wondered what the patrol had been doing here. He searched his memories for mentions of an officer Semon, finding none that could be relevant. His opinion plummeted as soon as he came across the first guard, the shifty man looking around the deserted district like a hounded fox.

Elunath turned his nose up at the poor specimen of law enforcement in front of him. The guard had forfeited the more expensive red dye in favor of a gray shirt stained with old wine spots. His gambeson showed signs of disrepair the wiser soldiers repaired as soon as they could get their hands on a needle as it could save their lives. Stubble adorned his reddish jaw. He was… He was…

Elunath shook his head again. He could perceive his sanctum around him. That was the core part of him crying out for its receptacle. Not good. He almost missed a step before he could reassert control. The main part of him was here, in this shithole. That was the truth. That was the truth. That was the truth.

“You there! Your senior officer sent for me?” he asked.

“Ah, beg your pardon sir. You’ll be Elunath, yes?”

“In the flesh,” the Archmage answered with a crooked smile.

The guard gulped and paused. Elunath realized he had to avoid any sort of complicated form of communication with that feebleminded cretin.

“Lead me to your boss,” he decided to say.

That always seemed to work.

The guard walked between two tall, sagging buildings covered in vine and moss. Those would collapse soon, Elunath noted. Even the squatters had not braved its insides for some time. He felt the interiors and there was nothing left but shattered crates and the dust of long rusted nails. He also felt the patrol long before he saw them. They were trampling about nervously. He extended his reach farther. There was…

Inaz in the bathroom.

No, no that was his core, he was here. There were wild dogs and a couple of miserable sods. A man was dying some distance away, tucked between two crumbling beams. Elunath could feel his waning heartbeat. The guards clumped in a disorderly group around the entrance to a two-stories building that had resisted the test of years a little better than the rest. He wordlessly walked in after a quick check. No enchantments he could detect. The place seemed entirely inert. He still readied an obsidian shield. Just in case.

The interior of the warehouse was barely lit by whatever sunlight pierced through shattered windows. It was dusty and smelled of rodent excrements. Half-fallen doors led to side rooms but the main space was empty save for the man who had invited him here.

Officer Semon was just as disappointing as Elunath expected. The hope that the officer had contacted him out of a sense of patriotism and duty melted like snow under the sun. Semon was just as unkept as his colleagues, and only marginally cleaner. More importantly, the stench of dream weed clung to his gambeson like a cloying perfume. His eyes were bloodshot. Elunath had met a few addicts in his lifetime. This one had recently let go. He was still useful enough to be kept around until his superiors found a replacement.

Such men disgusted Elunath. They were the rot that crawled through the structure of society. The longer they were left unchecked and the more damage they wreaked. Their very existence gnawed at the belief of their colleagues in the sanctity of their mission. That was what Elunath had to resort to, then? Addled mercenaries? He could already guess how things had gone but he asked anyway.

“So, how did you find this place?”

“Good morning to you sir. Name’s Semon. At your service. Glad to have you around. Nasty business, that vendetta, aye? Me and the boys, we were looking for rats and vermin, the two-legged kind you see?”

So they were chasing smugglers and criminals for a shakedown and a quick talent.

“And we saw that the door, it was cleaner than the others, yea? And no one cleans this place. Ever. So me and the boys, we go in to see what pleasant sort put some shiny iron on rotted planks yeah? Shiny iron goes missing around those parts. Changed for a couple iron bits at a fence and whatnot. So we go in. And what do we see? Well, nothing at first!”

“Can I have the more succinct version please?”

“The wha—?”

“The short version. Get to the point.”

Semon’s manic eyes widened with fear. He licked cracked lips, eager to please.

“Right. Right so we go upstairs and we find an office. I think? With a desk and paper, not the cheap bamboo stuff they sell at the market. Real white thing. There’s those squiggles. And my boy Tul said there was black mana around. So we think, maybe it’s that outlander everyone is going on about? So we thought, maybe your lordship wants to have a bit of a look see. Maybe learn something. And when you get that whore then maybe you remember your old pal Semon that pointed you in the right direction, yea?”

“Oh you are quite right. I never forget favors,” Elunath finished in a mildly threatening voice.

He did pay his debts but he did also like when the rabble remembered that they were not ‘pals’. Arrogant addict.

“You have done well to seek me. Not like… your superiors.”

“Hahaha. Quite right!”

“You and your fine troops will be rewarded.”

Elunath moved his hand and his purse opened, overflowing with silver talents. They spread on the ground with a pleasant clink. The officer fell to his knees to collect them, all thoughts of Elunath forgotten.

The Archmage scoffed and moved up. He carefully scanned the place for intruders and found nothing, not down, not upstairs. No ambient mana saved for a leftover black miasma that could be the fading remains of a witch ward. Witches were always so sloppy. His step carried him hup the rickety stairs to a circular overhang overlooking the main room. A flat surface hosted a basic setup but it felt hollow, somehow. Elunath frowned and asked himself why. There was a desk, writing implements, a table. He got his answer immediately. The place was too empty, lacking accommodations such as chairs and additional tables. It also felt too open. Why not use a side room?

He shrugged. Most likely, the witch had taken them with her. Good seats were hard to come by and this den had obviously been vacated. As for the open space, many things could explain this choice, not least the state of the side rooms themselves. He was wasting time. getting paranoid. Or was he? He was safe here, in his sanctum.

Elunath shook his head again. Removing the core had been a bad idea. Or maybe not. If this was a trap, then removing the core had been a good idea. As was sending the puppet to do his errands. No. He was in the puppet. That was his true body.

Elunath massaged his brow. He should have slept. He was slipping.

There were notes on the desk. the first clue he had ever seen but they were written in a language he’d never seen, the letters seemingly linked together with arabesque. It was a beautiful script but looked thoroughly unreadable. It reminded him of the notebooks left by the great hero who left the continent some time before. Maybe he could cross-reference them. He had some doubts that it could be a distraction, however. Some of the characters were repeated and queued together, a sign of an unhinged author. He would have expected lists as well, or crumpled notes hastily written. This all seemed all too convenient. Planted.

He decided that it was probably a distraction but the witch was not half as smart as she thought she was. All planted clues led to the perpetrator as surely as the genuine ones did. A wise man merely had to… use the appropriate tool. Elunath gathered the mana remnants inside of a small absorbent crystal and wove a tracking spell around it. Oh, he did not expect it to work immediately. He knew the witch would return to the city, however. Kick him while he was down. And she would make a mistake. They always made mistakes. And then… he would be there to greet her.

Something distracted him downstairs. A movement from one of the side rooms. He smashed the planks and fell through, landing nimbly in the middle of a storage space. Semon swore at the noise on the other side of a still-locked door. The window was open. It let some light in, enough to see by. There were close crates and a box on a low table. He could barely hear a strange sound coming from inside that box. Out of curiosity, he opened one of the crates. and found black granular powder inside. Inert, thankfully. Only nominal amounts of mana.  Not an immediate concern. The box sparked his interest. It was unlocked. There was a sort of ticking device inside he recognized as a clock, an expensive and pointless apparatus that kept time for those without access to a town crier. It was bound to a strange contraption, again, nothing magical there. Although, the smell reminded him of something. A mine project from a long time ago. There was a single slip of paper inside, again in a script he did not recognize.

‘BONJOUR =D’

Whatever that meant.

The ticking stopped and he heard a click.

Arthur bit deeply into the big mole thing. It was greasy and fresh but… gamey. She wanted salt and freshly chopped aromatic herbs. And a roast. She missed those. She missed the scritches.

It was annoying.

I am strong adult dragon lady of great importance!

I am above scritches!

She could still use some, however.

Talking to yourself again?

Judgment’s distant thoughts nudged her like pushing a claw into a sore scale.

You, old man!

Why never busy!

The thoughts returned after a short delay.

You requested my assistance, remember?

She-who-feasts-on-many-and-gets-much-gold seethed in her small cave, the mole thing forgotten.

I ask for path to GREATNESS! You speak of duty and patience and higher mana and whatnot! Talking talking talking! I want to fly better! I want to cook with my fire!

Your fire is too hot, the voice replied.

What do you know? You cannot even explain risk assessment and credit ratings for private sector entities!

Those are human terms. You care about gold too much.

Impossible!

I can feel your irritation from my den. You feel a pull. Open your perception to fate and follow the path laid for you. Or do not. I am not your dominant.

Arthur huffed. Her fate was to receive more scritches and fly better by teleporting around to sneak on people and steal, no, ‘liberate’ their belongings. Especially if those belongings shone. Maybe she could take a vacation from being an adult dragon lady of great importance. Maybe she could take a bath in water that didn't have either salt or leeches in it. For once. Maybe she could get cooked meat.

There was the mind equivalent of a long-suffering sigh.

Fine! Fine!

Arthur closed her eyes and relaxed. Then she closed her nostrils as well because the mole thing was pungent.

It is called a northern rock mole.

Shut up! What are you? A meatologist?

Please stop making up strange concepts. Our language is sacred, the most holy of all, capable of conveying pure meaning without the inaccuracies of sound-based communication. The transcendental beauty of exactitude implies—

Farts!

I give up for now and release you into the clutches of your mother.

Arthur puffed and pawed the ground with small stomps. She recognized that gesture. It meant she was nervous. Something was making her nervous.

Oh, fine then.

Concentration brought up the next level of mana, the one beyond primary elements. Fate weaved around her, pulling her west towards Helock where her mother was. Mother was always cloaked in fate because of what that human god had done but she couldn’t see it. Humans didn’t have that ability. They were just aware that it was a thing and called it luck. Mother’s luck needed her back. It had to be a big fate to be this insistent.

So Arthur was right and her magnificent intellect once more displayed unerring precision. Scritches were indeed her destiny. She would not shy away! A few more bites of mole thing later and she was airborne. It was time to head back!

Chapter 146: The League attempts murder.

The initial bang was not too dire, though it startled everybody in that section of the piers. If any of those buildings had windows, they would have surely exploded. The shockwave sent Elunath reeling and screaming in pain as the pressure tried to pulp his insides. Only great power and his own innate resilience of the stone saved the body from immediate death. He still lost both eyes and his eardrums. For the first time in a century, he tasted his own blood. A reflexive cast of obsidian armor covered his body in multiple layers of strong material, and not a second too soon. Flaming debris fell on the piles of what he now recognized as black powder, an outlander innovation meant to help mining operations when one lacked earth casters.

There was a woosh, then white light, then heat, so much heat he could feel it through the isolating layers of armor before they could fully cover him. The skin of his calves was seared. Blinding pain wrecked his mind until he was on the verge of abandoning it. His original body.

With a supreme effort of will, Elunath forced himself to remain and crash through the scorched ground and into the protective embrace of the earth below. He swam, his spirit an ocean of rage and of pain. He only resurfaced several hundreds of paces away.

The old warehouse district was an inferno of fire and fury. Bells rang throughout the city to call blue mages to the rescue before it could spread to important parts. The squad who had led him here was dead and gone. A trap. It had been a trap all along.

Elunath screamed his impotent rage to the skies. He rose in the air, looking for something, anything.

And then, he felt something eating into his armor.

Elunath turned around and raised his fist. A ray of pure, concentrated annihilation mana struck it. It came from afar. He could see a circle over the city wall, up in the air. The part of him not screaming in pain noted that the circle focused a small amount of mana. It then sent it at an extremely fast speed towards the target, a perfectly suitable medium for black mana which was already fast and light.

The spell faded a moment later. Elunath noted that part of the obsidian fist had melted despite this being one of the highest rated defenses in Param.

He was… under attack?

Disbelief struck him.

The witch was attacking him directly? Head on?

No one did that.

It made no sense at all.

Elunath brought the half fist and watched blood spurt from the stump of his extended fingers.

“Aaaah. Ah! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”

That was the breaking point.

Three days of frustration. Three days of pain, of humiliation and the compounded emotions all returned to deliver a last blow to Elunath’s patience and sanity. From a most respected pillar of society to a pariah decried as a deviant, stolen and shunned, Elunath’s vertiginous descent had come to a rock bottom stop here. Corrupt addicts unwittingly dragged him to an ambush and he was now under attack in broad daylight by a power climber not even a tenth of his age. The last of his proper support had deserted him. There was only one path to salvation his rage-filled mind could come up with.

Kill. The Witch.

Elunath rose on a tide of stones. Pavement rolled like an angry sea and the wave carved a path of destruction to the wall, through barns and homes and families. The elemental Archmage was now the earth’s very wrath wrapped in layers of smooth glass. The tide crashed against the wall just as the witch fell back, cracking the ancient structure like an egg. Massive blocks joined the torrent of devastation across meadows and fields. Elunath was awake, wide awake, and he could not be stopped.

The witch remained ahead by using a strange harness that kept her aloft. Kinesis on her arms and legs let her float in various directions rather than by the powers of the wind, as was natural. She was a fish out of water. Elunath was gaining on her, hiding behind his tide as she peppered the approach with spells.

“Eldritch walls!”

Threads of change mana smashed into the edge of his defenses, corrupting the packed rocks and forcing him to discard layers but that was fine. He could pull as much stone from the planet as he pleased while she exhausted herself stemming a power that could not be stopped. Inertia made him go faster. She flew up then to the side, towards the marshes, and Elunath followed. Finally, she landed on an islet in the middle of soaked land. Did she think this would be enough to stop him? By bringing him in a place where blue mana soaked the ground?

“Deadland domain.”

Elunath roared his pain and the loss of his eyes. The storm descended on the witch and… stopped. Like waves licking at a cliff. He was cut from the stone.

The titanic mass of debris parted around her giant circle. Elunath would have nothing of it. He gathered the core of his attack and rose in the air, above the area denial. Several tons of rocks would see the job done.

A spell triggered mid-air and it felt like the stones landed on a grinder. Rocks turned to gravel, dispersing in the air in front of transparent wheels of churning hunger. He noticed Sidjin far above. That young cur would pay, after he surrendered the methodology behind the portals. Elunath would make sure of it. With a grunt. he let the remaining stone finish their descent while he retreated.

“Eldritch walls. Aegis!”

Some of the wave turned weird, the other slid over a half-dome of connected hexagons, obliterating the countryside in a mudslide. The forest died around them. Birds were silenced, beasts slaughtered. Elunath was just getting started.

“Primordial Rain.”

Elunath raised a cloud of stone shards so thick they cast a shadow over the mangled valley. They fell in a storm over the unmoving shape of the witch. She took a step back and placed her hand in front of her. Elunath’s advanced inspection let him understand the sigils she wove together. Force. Push. All. Forward.

She thrust her palm forward.

“God hand.”

A cylinder opened in the fabric of his attack. While most of it landed uselessly, what aimed at the girl fell backward towards him. He tried to regain control and failed. As soon as the stone approached him, however, they were caught back in his domain, gravitating around him to reinforce his formidable defenses. Meanwhile the witch was casting.

“Astra. Blast. Hyperbeam.”

First slow spheres of mana flew in thick clumps towards him. He attempted to detonate them early and was surprised by how thick the fabric was. By the time he put enough effort to intercept, a wave of artillery spells had joined the slower spheres. He barely saw the last attack, the same ray as before, when the three waves hit him at the same time. The part of Elunath that remained calm and present struggled to gauge their power, so he simply poured as much as he could in the reinforced sphere of stones that protected him. He was now a planetoid, rotation slowly in place surrounded by a galaxy of asteroids. The spheres bit deep gouges in his rotating defenses. The artillery spells penetrated deep enough to endanger him. Fortunately, the beam missed. It ripped off the edge of his protections before fading away in the distance.

Dangerous.

Elunath poured a lot of mana rebuilding those layered defenses. At the same time, he wove his next attack. The witch cast the three attack types in quick succession again but this time, Elunath allowed the sphere to lower itself near the ground and back, where he had a connection to the land. She didn’t miss but they failed to penetrate.

By that time, there was nothing left of the original forest at the edge of the city, nothing but mangled earth and blighted, sandy ditches where the witch’s domain extended. He launched a volley of artillery spells of his own, the stone variant dark obelisks vibrating with energy. Yet his true attack came from below.

“Geyser.”

The witch didn’t stay in her circle. A white shape flew from the side, picking her as it went. He recognized the form of the golem just instant before the mud explosion took out this entire section of land in a surge of ascending soil. He pursued.

A tiny part of him reminded him that he was a defensive fighter, that he should take his time. That part was silenced by the rage that filled him. He had her. He finally had her. She wouldn’t escape. She was still a pup to him, despite her devastating element. If Helock learned he had engaged and failed to kill a foreign neophyte, he was finished. That couldn’t happen. He would end the bitch here and now.

The golem unsurprisingly dropped her in another circle by the sea, on a rocky outcrop. He landed nearby and let the planetoid fall, only to realize the place was blighted below the surface. It annoyed him and he fought the destructive influence but the witch cast another of those beams and, this time, it stayed on him and ate through his defenses. He had to rotate them and gave up. By now, the planetoid was as large as a small manor. It was taxing but not insurmountable.

Elunath decided his strategy then. He was more suitable for defense, more capable with area denial. She was much more concentrated and mobile but there was one thing that would tilt the combat in his favor. He had significantly more reserves than she did.

He was old. Elemental power grew over time. He could spend ten times what she did for a similar result and still come up on top. Time was on his side. He merely needed to keep the pressure up.

The last time he’d faced danger, it had been a death squad of Halurian Faceless. He could do it. There were no other choices.

Elunath launched a torrent of spells at the shield. A quake cracked the cliff, breaking the circle and sending blighted tentacles tumbling to the waters below. She took off again. A new wave of assault smashed into the crust of his armor. This time, she didn’t miss. The planetoid was too heavy to dodge by now so he kept feeding more and more power into the defenses. She would run out of energy before she did, and then…

A new colorless grinder pierced the sphere from above. Elunath grit his teeth under the layers of cool stone. His wounds distracted him, the pain too great to be completely ignored. She was not fighting alone. He had to be careful.

Annoying gnats.

That was fine. Patience. He almost had them. And then… the payback. For years of wasted effort. For his image forever stained. The witch took to the air and struck but his defenses were growing ever stronger, ever larger. Bloated. She could no longer pierce the shell yet she still stayed. Stupid. He was slow like this but she did not try to escape. A hurricane of debris shredded the landscape and turned the surface of the ocean like a lake under the rain. She managed to push back his hails of projectiles with the ridiculous telekinesis of hers. That was fine. He had an answer for everything.

Elunath focused and used the planetoid to press long, thin spears into existence. He quickly inscribed a few sigils on them, then sent them in clusters at that annoying wasp. One of the spears pinged against her shield and was amazingly shattered. That was fine. He had time.

The fisherman ran. That was all he could do. His pond was gone. The meadow where he had proposed was gone. Even the slice of city wall he had painted on when he was a child was gone. One of his nieces lived near the pier. At a glance, she was gone as well. Behind him, there was nothing left of the life he had led so far, nothing but the exposed, muddy bowels of the earth and the shattered trunks of destroyed trees. For a mile, the land he had grown up on and never left had been shattered.

So the fisherman ran. He ran, and he prayed he would reach the village in time to tell them to flee. He prayed that the monsters hurling city-ending magic at each other would miss and hit the sea rather than his garden. He prayed to all the light gods that would listen while he sprinted with all his might. That was all he could do.

For years, man could plant and build. Man could labor and flourish. Man could make the world theirs. Then, one day, beasts and mages would come and erase all that work with an afterthought and a flick of their fingers.

This was life on Param for people like him. Hope and build, and when the time comes, run.

Sidjin watched the duel from above. Far above. Elunath was a snake carrying a shroud of stones, heavy and powerful but ultimately slow. His Viv was a wasp. She flew under and around attacks, darting in and out and her stinger left afterimages of pure darkness across the torn landscape. It was too early to say who would win if those two were to fight a duel, he thought..

Unfortunately for Elunath, this was no duel, yet Sidjin still took a moment to watch the exchange while he recovered some of his strength. There was a point in magic when casters stopped being mere humans and became forces of nature. Elunath was such a creature. It was now clear that the only thing that had prevented him from destroying a city was self-interest. Now they only had to hope he would die before being given the chance to travel to Harrak and remake the plains in his image.

He was both proud and sad about what Viv had grown into. He thought he might be left behind, eventually.

But not today.

Today, he would cast his best magic and show the city of magic that while he may have fallen, he was still a prince of Glastia.

Disaster ravaged the coast off Helock. The massive rock sphere that hid Elunath was the center of a maelstrom of flying stones some as large as huts. The torrent followed the witch where she went, turning fields and forests into trench vistas and carving deep scars on the peaceful land. Sometimes, focused assaults in the form of rock javelins trailed the nimble witch. Facing the onslaught, she teleported and flew using an annoying harness that canceled gravity and kinesis centered around her hands and feet. Most of those attacks missed to hit something — or someone — else but Elunath didn’t care. They were not facing the city. Anyone in the way was either too slow or too dumb to leave. He poured every ounce of power he could into overwhelming her with the certainty that she would crack before he would. She had even foregone attacking him at this stage. Eventually, she landed on yet another circle. Strange wings deployed from her back and planted themselves in the ground. Or was it the ground? It felt… deeper.

“Aspect of the guardian, aegis. Deadland domain.”

The planetoid trailed after her and Elunath intensified his bombardment of the strange shield she had built and the tainted earth around her. The lightest stone glanced off her defenses while the larger one exploded just before impact, negating most of the force. The witch intercepted them with short-ranged spells designed for interception. Elunath realized he was losing mass and dug deep into the bones of the land for the hardest pieces he could find. Maintaining all of that taxed his mind and reserves but he was confident he would prevail.

Stones that had never seen the light of day surged from the abyss then rushed at the defenses, gorged with ancient brown mana. The witch reacted by retracting her shield until it was small, smaller and smaller. Elunath kept the pressure on.

And then she teleported.

He had expected that much. What he had not expected was that she would teleport right under him. His perception let him see that her shield was still up, but it was now black and shone dangerously.

“Shatterstar.”

Elunath flinched. His mind reeled. The planetoid was damaged?

“What?”

The planetoid was damaged, heavily so. The panes forming the shield had exploded at point blank range, skewering parts of his defenses. The networks of mana supporting the outer part of the sphere were damaged beyond functionality. He was suddenly much slower, much less cohesive. The phantom pain of spell feedback made him wince. He was in his sanctum… No, he was still here, fighting! He tried to move aside but the witch was now in a layer of coating and cleaving in his flank with a blade of pure void. No, that was not his flank. Just the damn coating. He had to focus! He formed spikes facing her.

“Hammer of Glastia.”

An attack from Sidjin caught him by surprise. He was still flying far above the battle. It was frustrating.

Elunath’s sphere smashed into corrupted ground, upper layers demolished by the follow up attack from that accursed little princeling. No need to panic. No need to panic, he was still in control. He exploded the spikes outward which forced the witch back. No, she’d teleported really close and was now mauling his other flank.

Suddenly, the sphere turned into a prison. It had suffered critical damage and was losing cohesion. The damage was too quick, too deep for him to recover it. He could discard it but that was so much of his mana invested in it. He could not claim it back by putting the stones back on the ground, either. Should he leave? He hesitated even as he sent attacks both at the witch and the flying Sidjin. They kept damaging it faster now that he could not easily recover.

And then, something pierced it.

Searing pain struck his left forearm, even deep inside the protective cocoon. It was broken? It was broken, Something now rested only a few fingers away from his torso. It was a large spike of stone striated with black mana. He recognized it. It was an old imperial war spell.

Impossible. No one alive should be left to cast such a thing. The art was lost.

Elunath’s sphere cracked like an egg. All fifty paces of it split in two parts, its structure skewered by a spear of disruptive black and brown. He managed to extract himself in a tiny ball made of the hardest material at his disposal, flying away as fast as he could. He felt something bite his flank. This time, it was the real one.

Elunath looked down to see an entire chunk of his flesh missing. He felt the very disconcerting sensation of his insides spilling outside before the stone closed the gap, pushing innards in before they could fully escape. Agony struck him a moment later. The sanctum called to him but with a last, supreme effort of will, he clung to his failing flesh. The life mana he could conjure flooded to the wound with no result. The witch’s touch could not be so easily undone. A flurry of blows struck his back, collapsing most of his remaining armor, a defense sturdier than most fortress gates. And yet, pain struck him again.

All air left his remaining lung with a deep gasp of sheer, atrocious pain. A knife. A knife in his back?

Someone had stabbed him.

With a knife.

It was too much. Feeling his consciousness fade, he cast his last, most powerful spell.

Viv watched the body of Elunath disperse in a cloud of dust above the cracked, thirty meters high death ball that insane fucker had created. The blood from his wound remained behind which was super weird in itself. Was the man stone or flesh? Was she flesh or… whatever it was black mana was? Very disconcerting.

“Do you think we got him?” she asked Abe as he hovered beside her.

Her soul sense now told her if something had died and it had not done so, not yet.

“I do believe he whispered one last sentence before turning to ash,” Abe stoically replied.

“And what was that?”

Suddenly, a chunk of rock rose from the earth, breaking the layer of saturated ground like a submarine through the ice. It was soon followed by a muscular granite torso as wide as the average basketball court, then hands. Baleful lava eyes glared at Viv as more and more of the colossus emerged from the abyss.

“I believe he said: ‘aspect of the walking mountain’. As stated before, I will attack his soul directly since he no longer has a physical body.”

“Ah.”

It was a beautiful day to watch the end of an era. From his balcony overlooking the city, Dean Tallit had a perfect view of the titanic battle raging across the Helockian countryside. At this distance, the caster were but little dots flying in the distance, barely visible without superior finesse. The colossus, however, was not. There were no records of Elunath ever pulling that. It could only mean one thing. Either this was a new spell, or Elunath had never left witnesses before.

He rolled his snifter and let the liquor’s perfume waft to his nose. Permodian, aged thirty years. Today was a special day. It was doubly so because the young Viviane had pulled the ravening Archmage away from the city despite the fact that if she had not, the city would have come to her help if only to stop the devastation. A testament to her mercy after such a vicious campaign.

He took a gulp. The alcohol burnt the way down while a floral scent lingered, just a little bitter towards the end. The colossus swung quickly and missed. Tallit counted three flying combatants. Viviane, Sidjin, and a third one he didn't know and who used elemental magic mixed with black mana. Those seem devastatingly effective.

The unequal combat was coming to a close with the titan on its last leg. It would have destroyed entire armies in other circumstances. Here, it was facing prepared foes. They stayed nimble and airborne at all times. Viviane used change to corrupt and undo. Sidjin struck with devastating kinetic blows that took entire chunks off the construct. Meanwhile, the last one demolished the colossus’ internal circuit with unerring accuracy. Even from so far away, watching those three at work was a treat for this old caster. A part of him wished he could join but, unfortunately, his position meant he had to stay neutral at all times.

A pity.

Tallit finished his glass just as the titan collapsed on itself, entire chunks flattening an orchard around it. The witch was a competent planner as she had demonstrated. Unfortunately, she wasn’t familiar with Paramese politics. Not yet. An elemental Archmage had fallen in public. An undefeated paragon of magic, defeated by an upstart in a straight fight. The ripples of this conflict would reach every corner of the continent. He would have to lend a hand with the immediate fallout. He owed her that much for sparing the innocent. It was a rare trait, these days.

Tallit sighed and stretched.

He couldn’t wait to become an elemental as well.

Elunath pulled back from his broken body. The pain disappeared. The confusion disappeared. He lost the perception of being a human. Even his emotions felt distant, as if watched from afar rather than experienced. The absence of pain didn’t come with relief but with disorientation and a terrible sense of loss. He was now in his core. No. He was now his core and nothing else. No need to breathe. No need to move limbs. Now, he needed to rebuild himself, and quickly, before the enemies capitalized on his weakness. He still had plenty of mana to work with. Rebuilding a body would not cost much. It would just require a high level of concentration. That was fine. He had a will of steel.

First, he had to make the body out of stone. Marble would be a good choice. He had some around. An effort of will lifted a pillar from the floor with some difficulty. He still had a core but he no longer had conduits, and those would need to be rebuilt and retrained before he regained his flawless mastery of mana. He decided to slow down to avoid making mistakes.

The rock melted like wax, splitting apart to reveal his vision underneath. First, his face, his beautiful face clear of damage. The eyes were whole again, as was the skin. Then the neck, the torso…

Something was wrong.

No matter how much Elunath tried, the hole in his chest would not reform. It was as if the image of his body came with that wound. Try as he might, he could not remember the sensation of being whole. He could not discard the wound the witch had left on his flesh. A brief application of life mana changed nothing. There was a corruption there that went deeper than the physical level. His body was gone a couple of leagues west of here and yet the stigma of annihilation still clung to the idea of it. Elunath forced and pushed but he was an outsider and this was just a statue and he felt his grip slip up.

It became worse when the knife wound on his back did the same thing. That was the work of a Hadal assassin. They’d been gone for a few decades and he’d assumed time had rectified that mistake of nature, yet the witch had recovered one. It was just like her to pick up rejects from a bygone age. The core shone with resentment and the realization of his own limits. He needed help. Weaving a few strands of colorless mana, he linked to the room’s communication crystal. He would have to replace the one he left on his body. That would be a pain. He also realized he had no voice and needed to vibrate air to speak, which was another frustrating annoyance.

“Renea.”

“My lord?” the woman replied.

“I need you in my sanctum.”

“Immediately, my lord.”

While she made her way, Elunath was now facing a conundrum. He had placed the sanctum on lockdown to prevent anyone from reaching his core while he was otherwise distracted. The defenses were only keyed to him, that was, to his physical body. One had to swim through stone to reach inside. Or pass through the tiny air hole but none of his students could do that. He had made sure of it. All his defenses were now working against his own interest.  What should have been a formality was turning into a huge problem.

“My lord? The wards—”

“I know,” he replied testily. “I am working on it. Give me a moment.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Elunath could only remove some of the defenses with a command. Was there some sort of universal key that would cut down the defenses? He didn’t think so. A brief search of his memory confirmed that the sanctum was specifically designed to avoid this sort of solve-all spell someone might have used against him. He could also not just deactivate the wards. The sanctum was designed to feed power to the system being challenged, and forcibly trying to deactivate one of the layers was meant to be taken as an assault. He considered attacking the circuit but discarded that idea immediately. First, the circuit itself was the most protected part of the sanctum except for the core barrier itself. Second, he would need the excessively complex construct later. The war was only just beginning.

If only his girls were not so untrustworthy, then all of this might have been already solved! Even the loyal ones were often less than perfectly competent. In fact, he had only kept them around for sex and companionship but now he really could not see the point. Getting obedience tattoos would be enough to guarantee compliance with his demands. There was no point in socializing with humans anyway. Not anymore. Not after they had turned on him.

Even his erstwhile fury felt more distant now that his mind was whole again. Why be angry? He could just kill and forget. Calmly.

Elunath felt like sighing, even without lungs. There was only one solution he could think of. He would have to drain the defenses of power, let the girl in, then repower them afterward. It would leave him vulnerable for a moment yet he had no choice if he wanted to cleanse the memory of the wound. The rest of the mansion was still a fortress. He had little choice anyway.

Slowly, methodically, Elunath cut off the sanctum’s defenses from their core. Alarms blared in his mind, warning him of an attack just as he’d designed them to do which compounded his annoyance. Things would have been much easier if he still had the hands to work with. Once that was done, it was only a matter of forcing the mana to disperse. He activated all the defenses at maximum and made it all inefficient. Mana soon flooded the sanctum until his perception of the world around him grew haze. It took a good five minutes to finish but by then, there would only be a few steps to coming in safely. Some of the measures could not be deactivated. One of them would send shrapnel at the first person diving down with enough speed to send their spines through the manor’s roof.

“Renea, I will now tell you how to deactivate the last layer of traps.”

Silence.

“Renea? Renea, answer me.”

More silence. Elunath calculated the next preferable course of action and realized he didn’t have one. He needed help. Just a flood of life mana to purge the wound should work but he didn’t have the means to do so and rebuild his complex body at the same time. Just one of his girls would be enough. What was happening? Why were they failing him?

“Renea.”

Still no answer. Elunath made to check the manor but with the defenses disconnected, it was difficult to gauge how things were going. The girls seemed to be moving around normally. Renea was still at the entrance, though she did not reply. There was perhaps another he could trust with this delicate task.

Just then, something pinged from the tiny air vent. A sliver of darkness resolved itself into a fully grown person. It was, he realized, a Hadal strain human. The knife in the creature’s hand was uncomfortably familiar.

A realization wormed its way into his consciousness though he denied it. He still had some defenses. Like the last barrier around his core.

The Hadal didn’t do anything too strange at first. He dodged a few spells Elunath triggered more because he could than because he expected results. The accursed creature pulled out an amulet and dropped it on the ground where it resolved itself into a pool of darkness. A moment later, the witch appeared.

Elunath still refused to accept that he had lost. The witch punctured the last active defenses with ease. None of his redundant systems were left standing. She was very, very patient and very, very thorough. He did not try to cast spells at her. It would be too humiliating to be swatted aside like a fly.

What surprised him was how calm and detached she was.

“You must feel very proud of yourself,” he finally snarled.

“Believe it or not, this time, it’s not about me,” she replied.

His following barbs were ignored. She made one last sweep then opened a witch portal from where a Lich soon stepped out.

A gaze made of dark blue flame fell upon him.

“Hello Lunie. I never thought this day would come but here we are, despite the odds. How curious.”

“Who are you?”

“I am your first sin, so to speak. You killed Jesar. You killed me. We were the stepping stone of your power.”

The core remained silent for a while.

“Abe,” he finally said.

“Abe is for friends. You should call me Abenezigel. And yes.”

“After all this time, you are still after me for this, you cockroach?”

Power flooded the room, the soul kind. The Archlich was furious and now that Elunath had lost his body, the balance of power was reversed.

“I did not have the luxury of letting go. You lived with the benefits of your sin and I survived with the scars. And now, after three hundred years, the game is finally finished.”

“You will not get away with this.”

“Oh I believe we will. Who can stop us, at this point? No one is willing to pay the price for you.”

The Lich walked forward and Elunath seethed to be interrupted, to be lectured.

“Longevity is such a double-edged sword, do you not think so, Lunie? On the one hand, the best of us stay here for a very long time to guide and protect the next generations. We have the time to achieve greatness. On the other hand, it makes it hard to leave the world undefeated.”

The Lich glared at the core with such malice that the accumulated hatred almost bore a physical weight.

“I want that ultimate defeat to sting so I will tell you what you know yet refuse to accept. This is your fault. I hate you and this is your fault. All of this, leading to this moment, is your fault. Your failure to properly assess us was born from your arrogance. You could not rely on a loyal force of mages because you are a mistrustful, abusive, paranoid rapist. You have accumulated so much enmity that now, at the end, no one is coming for you. This position of power you thought you had crumbled like a sand castle because it was built on cruelty and coercion. Even now, you are blaming the world and the gods and fate and your victims because you still deny reality and the reality is that this is all. Your. Fault!

Look at me, Elunath. You killed Jesar. You killed me. You betrayed us all. For a long time, you got away with it but in the end the punishment comes from your sin, your fault. And now you’re going to die because you had slaves, not partners, and none of them could go through the wards to save you. And that’s your fault.”

“You arrogant upstart!”

“Upstart? I am older than you.”

“Upstart still. All of you… mongrels banding together because you cannot tolerate the idea of greatness!”

“Well that leads to an acceptable last taunt as well. If you were so great, Elunath, you would not be dead.”

“THE DARK GODS TAKE YOU!”

“You first, Lunie. Goodbye.”

The last of the barrier faded with a sound of broken glass. The Hadal extended his knife and the Lich took it before ramming it in. His blade pierced the core as if it were clay. The core shattered to pieces.

For a brief moment, power escaped the tattered shards and then, there was nothing left of the Archmage but half a bust and a trail of misery.

“I…” Abenezigel began.

Irao and Viv turned to him. The Lich brought a skeletal fist to their empty chest, perhaps waiting for relief but it never came. His breast was hollow and the threads of emotions were but ghostly remains that kept his mind going. There would be no succor.

“I feel so… very… empty.”

“Ah yes, regarding that,” Viv said. “Since we’re done, there is someone I would like you to meet.”

The old Academy doctor sat gloomily in his study, arms crossed, brows furrowed, steely glare fixed on Viv with unerring intensity.

“Haha. So, Tod, meet my friend Abenezigel. Your new patient!”

“Hello,” Abenezigel whispered from behind a thick mask.

“Viviane the Outlander, your friend has no pulse. He’s dead.”

“Well, technically yeah.”

“He has no flesh ! He does not have a blood flow. I can see his eye sockets from here!”

“Very astute sir but if you could only hear me out…”

“Viviane the Outlander, are you trying to get me to use necromancy?”

“Of course not! I’d call this more, errr, post-mortem body reconstruction.”

“Get out.”

“Wait wait wait! What if the gods agree?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Why would a light god agree to what is clearly the manipulation of life after death, which is, by definition, gods-accursed necromancy?”

“Neriad please tell me if I’m fucking up!” Viv said, clapping her hands together and flooding the righteous god with mana.

A divine light descended in the room. Viv gasped. Soon, a powerful voice filled the air with its divine presence.

WHY DO YOU NEVER PRAY FOR A STRONG SWORD ARM? YOU ALWAYS COME UP WITH THE WEIRDEST SHIT. ENTTIKU IS THE RULER OF DEATH. TAKE IT UP WITH THEM.

“Sorry. Wrong number.”

In the end, Viv did not attend the conversation between Abenezigel and the goddess of death. She was here when they rebuilt a body, albeit one of gray skin and eyes the color of deep wine. A large mark of Enttiku was placed on Abenezigel’s face never to be removed. After the procedure was completed, Tod left to write it down in his notes, leaving Viv and a stunned Abe behind.

“I… can feel. I can feel relief. The relief I was denied. I am myself again, and free, though the goddess may ask my service.”

He leaned forward, touching his knees with newly regrown fingertips.

“Now what?”

“Now we wrap up and we get the hell out of this town.”

Chapter 147: Oh, Neriad, I won’t change.

Focus +1

Acuity +1

Willpower +1

Mana mastery: Intermediate 6

Acuity Reflex: Intermediate 7

Viv went over the recent gains. Those were nice. They would also set her on a way to greater heights. For now, she was only at the beginning of her next stage. The last notification was more concerning. She supposed it couldn’t be helped.

Draconic intimidation: Expert 8

With the way things were going, this one would reach master first. Sighing, she focused back on her current predicament: getting out of dodge.

Abe looked groggy, Viv thought. He also looked pretty badass. His huge frame was now filled with lean muscles and despite the grayish hue of his skin, he didn’t appear to be sick. The red eyes looked lost for now while he looked around the operating room with a sense of childish wonder. His mouth hung open. He would have been cute except for the rest of his appearance: wrinkles which placed him on the grandpa scale, gray dreadlocks, and the mark of Enttiku shining ominously on his forehead. It looked a bit like a hooded figure if one looked closely. It was an ancient rune, older than the empire itself. She inspected him.

[Arcane Servant of Death]

So he had a path now. Interesting. Viv ignored the flurry of other titles to shove robes on the dazed ex-Lich.

“Get dressed, we gotta go.”

“Oh. Sorry. I was distracted.”

“Understandable. Put the robe on please.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the natural state of things or if it was part of Enttiku’s blessing but damn, the old man was hung like a donkey. Now that he was no longer her patient it was getting distracting.

Abe obliged and they were ready in record time. He trotted by her side while they exited the hospital without objection, perhaps sensing her stress. It was already late afternoon.

“I apologize. This delay must impede your plans.”

“Look I saved you with the power of friendship and gods-approved necromancy. That was the best possible use of my time. I just want to finish everything and get going before anybody gets any ideas. We’re rich and surprisingly successful. That means people are going to come with us with demands. We want to get out before they decide how they’re going to do that.”

“Agreed.”

Sidjin was waiting outside, eyes fixed on the road. The guards and patients studiously ignored him.

“Let’s go,” Viv said.

They flew back to the city, Abe and Sidjin with gray mana and Viv with her harness and self-kinesis. Even though she was getting used to it, the sensation of flying without a machine still felt exhilarating. They stayed close to the ground because high flight near Helock was considered rude and the griffin riders might disapprove. It also suited Viv’s deeply ingrained fear of stinger missiles just fine. She was airborne over uncontrolled territory, therefore she was vulnerable to MANPADS and no amount of logic could convince her otherwise.

The group landed near the gate and continued on foot, racing past whispering Helockians. People recognized her on sight now. A few saluted her but there were quite a few hostile glares as well, especially from the older nobles. Elunath’s manor soon came into view. The gates were closed which was not a bad sign. A prostrate woman sobbed on the steps. Not great. Viv noticed that her dress was torn, revealing a bruised shoulder. She sported an impressive black eye. Her hair was shaved, badly. As she looked up, Viv recognized Renea. Elunath’s pet snitch. The other girls had gotten her hands on her, none too gently. She was lucky to be alive, Viv thought.

The girl cried as she approached. Viv readied some black mana but it soon became obvious that she was not threat.

“Why?” she cried. “Why? It was all for nothing. All for nothing… I thought I had no choice. Did I? I don't know. I don’t fucking know anymore.”

There was only pity in Viv’s heart at the moment, partly because Renea was Stockholm syndrome’s poster child and partly because she didn’t know all the horribly stuff Renea must have done.

“Are you here to kill me?” the mage finally asked.

“No. We want in but you are… in the way.”

Renea hiccupped then stood on shaky legs. She left, limping a bit. Viv watched her go, wondering if she should do anything. She wasn’t sure. And they were on a schedule.

No time to worry about everyone.

“Let’s get in.”

“Wait!” Abe interrupted. “Wait.”

He clutched his belly and moved forward. Pain marred his wizened traits.

“Abe?”

“I… I don’t feel good. It hurts. Like some pressure.”

“Abe, what’s wrong?”

Viv approached the old man. She still had mending potions in her belt. Would they help? He should have been okay.

“I can use a diagnostic spell,” Sidjin said, already weaving colorless mana.

Suddenly, Abe’s face turned into an expression of pure surprise. He was having an epiphany.

“I need to urinate!”

The old man waddled to the nearest flower bed and whipped out his junk. A sigh of contentment came with the subsequent release. Viv refrained from facepalming.

“Wow,” Sidjin said after a brief observation.

“I know, right?”

“Did you…”

“Nope. Enttiku formed his body. Maybe he was like that before he died.”

“Huh. To change this rather awkward topic, have you asked him what his new path entails?”

“Not really. I think we’ll have ample time on the way back.”

“What if it’s… dangerous for us?”

“From Enttiku? Against a faction that’s clearing the deadlands?”

“A fair point, Viv.”

“Thank you for waiting,” Abe said as he returned. “I had forgotten how satisfying pissing on the flowers could be. I wish to apologize for the delay and for using a rude term.”

“Men,” Viv bemoaned while Sidjin nodded in understanding. “Can we finally go?”

“Yes yes.”

Elunath’s door was still unlocked. They found a real crowd in the atrium, a babbling bunch that fell silent the moment they entered. Viv recognized most of Elunath’s harem led by Sen, the receptionist, and Lana, still wearing a fitting blue dress. Solfis stood silently in a corner. Finally, there were a pair of trussed shapes in dark cloaks left on a carpet to the side.

“What’s with them?” Viv asked as she entered.

“Thieves. They tried to break in,” Lana replied with a guarded voice.

“So soon? Well, I salute their proactive spirits.”

“Yes, well. Let’s get to the point.”

Viv noticed Lana’s stiff shoulders and bunched fists. Sen, too, was tense, though the tall northerner expressed it with a high chin and an imperious gaze. Behind them, mages in the second and third steps quietly arrayed themselves, some afraid, some defiant. One girl immediately broke down to start sobbing from the stress. They burnt like a riot of mana torches in Viv’s sight. The many hues of their powers formed a flickering rainbow of coiling power that would scare most casters but Viv could easily see through the bluff. Those were not warriors and they were not organized. They were a scared, huddling pile of victims ready to bite and lash out at the first sign of a collar. Only Sen, Lana, and a couple of other older girls appeared willing to fight. The only thing Viv felt towards them was sympathy.

“We want to know if you will try to enforce the contracts. By Helock’s law —”

“There are no slaves in Harrak,” Viv interrupted.

She could immediately see doubt. She couldn’t blame them.

“You are free to go. I won’t do anything to you. There are no obligations between us.”

“Do you swear by it?” Sen retorted.

“On Neriad’s name, there are no bindings between us and you can go and never see me again.”

“Excellent. In this case, I’m out of here and out of this damn city. Gooooooodbye.”

Sen picked up two bags and walked out without looking back. The majority of the other girls filed out behind her, giving Viv a broad berth. She didn’t take it personally even though she had technically liberated them. Doing so was the bare minimum decency demanded in a world where the term had little meaning. And they were scared. It was ok.

Soon, only Lana and six others remained.

“I am interested in entering an agreement,” Lana said.

“Wait!” the sobbing girl from before said. “Wait. Sorry. I want to go as well. Can I?”

“Sure,” Viv confirmed.

She grabbed her bag protectively to her chest and strode out, claiming she was going to take a boat. Sidjin chuckled.

“As I was saying, I am interested in entering an agreement,” Lana said.

“Should we sit? Do you want privacy?” Viv asked while Lana’s attention turned to a still dazed Abe.

“No. We decide now. I am not staying in this place any longer than I have to. I will be brief. Sen insists on instant freedom while I believe we cannot be free if we do not have protection. All of Elunath’s pupils are talented and, for now, vulnerable. Many powerful individuals of Param will believe they are too valuable to be let loose. You claim that Harrak is a good place to live, that we will not be separated or used. You hinted that we could decide what to do, what to research. I want a binding agreement. Not a vague promise. Is there truly a law or an institution in Harrak that would protect them?”

“Hmm, yeah. Me. Heiress to the throne and black elemental war caster on the fourth step who just offed Elunath with my allies.”

That forced Lana to reconsider a bit.

“Oh. That is indeed a convincing argument.”

“If you want to come, you can come. If you want to wait before doing so, that is also fine. Our gates are open. As for self determination, I wouldn’t even have to lift a finger to defend you there. Anyone bothering your girls would end up a crossbow bolt porcupine before they finish their first sentence. Look. The thing about New Harrak is that, hmm, people have it easier doing what they enjoy rather than what someone else expects them to do. Hadals make the best murderers and maybe it makes sense to force them to act as assassins but we don’t do make them do that. Most of them are our hunters and scouts. And it’s best from a population perspective if women stay home to raise a lot of children but many of us serve in the army and postpone raising a family. Maybe some never will. Assigning roles to people from birth makes a shit ton of them miserable and the goal of our nation is to make people not miserable. So maybe it’s not optimal. Maybe giving advanced projectile weapons to freshly emancipated populations doesn’t magically turn them into shock troops but it sure as hell makes them motivated. What I’m trying to say is, no one there will give you trouble on how you contribute so long as you contribute. No one will demand you forfeit your dreams or your body. And you will be protected while you do so by the very same people you will be helping.”

Lana assessed Viv for a long time with the power of her glare but the witch didn’t really care. There were things she was fully confident about and her principles were one of them.

The application was still subject to some doubts.

“This is a nice dream you have. I hope you can keep it alive because Param has seen many dreams and it’s eaten them all.”

“We’re already done so twice. Look, as I said, we can’t achieve miracles just because our ideals are noble. But give motivated people enough time and resources, and we can end up with something quite nice. You can be a part of it.”

“That still sounds like promises, not a binding agreement.”

That ticked off Viv a little bit.

“I have forged that place with my own two hands on the corpses of princes. My people have bled to make it a reality. It should be all the commitment you need and it is all the commitment you’ll get. As I said, travel there and see with your own eyes if you have trouble believing. The borders are open. Now, was it all or did you want to discuss your employment?”

Lana didn’t flinch though some of her defiance bled out. She was both less afraid and less resolute. Viv wasn’t sure how much of that remaining terror was trauma and how much was Viv’s reputation. She wasn’t using any intimidation right now.

“We want to discuss employment. We also want to discuss pay.”

Viv sighed. That was the kind of negotiations that could take half a day given there were exactly six mages concerned, with various trainings and specialization. She didn’t have the time. She didn't even have a budget.

Irao used that opportunity to walk out of the shadows.

“They have emptied the office’s safe,” he helpfully suggested.

“What do you mean? They took money?”

“Yes. All of Elunath’s coin. They split it among themselves.”

Lana deflated when Viv cleared her throat.

“Technically that belongs to me. Let’s just call it, hmm, compensation for back pay and an advance on your contract.”

“For one year only!”

“Fair enough. We can discuss everything in more detail later, alright? I want to be gone before the city wakes up to the fact we just killed their strategic deterrent.”

“The way you talk is so strange.”

//She is an outlander.

The girls turned to Solfis, clearly unnerved by his alien presence.

//You must get used to it.

//As I have.

//After a while.

“Don’t make it sound like a chore. Alright, loot!”

“If the ladies do join us, we should get them settled in the ship and make sure the captain does not object immediately. I can accompany them since I negotiated the contract, if that is fine, of course,” Sidjin offered.

“Yeah that would be great. Solfis will carry everything we can take with us. We don’t need another porter.”

//I have found this comically large bag.

“Then I’m off. Don’t trigger any traps, please.”

“I will protect our safety,” Abe agreed.

Perhaps sensing their urgency, the newly freed mages hurried after Sidjin who used kinesis to lift the book crates. There were quite a few of them. It left the rest of the league to pilfer in peace.

The office gave up a few trinkets as well as Elunath’s research journals which they took with them. Viv wondered why someone with perfect recall would need journals. Perhaps out of habit. Solfis also claimed the skull of some dinosaur-like creature for himself. They ignored the private quarters and communal labs since Irao confirmed the harem had taken their own project notes with them, which was entirely fair. It was really Elunath’s sanctum that would yield the best stuff.

Irao led them to the gate where he had stunned Renea, then both he and Abe made sure no traps had reactivated before Viv gated them in. There were many treasures there but not exactly the kind Viv could use. They decided to leave the extensive collection of stones, ores, and fossils behind to focus on the immediately useful stuff. Deeds and financial documents went in the bag first, then it was time for the magical goodies.

The only surprise was that Elunath had destroyed the scepter of the cursed god as he’d claimed he’d do. Viv half expected him to have kept it around while the abominable artifact whispered sweet promises into his ears in the dead of night. The other items proved to be a treasure trove. They found a plethora of enchanted swords, magical suits of armor, and nasty daggers. Into the bag they went for later distribution. They would form a core of legacy stuff for the most promising soldiers, Viv thought to herself. A magical sword didn’t make much of a difference on a battlefield where numbers and discipline reigned, but thirty in the hands of elites could. Some of the suits were resistant to specific elements as well which would help. All in all it was a good haul that would push Solfis’ strength to its limits. And then, there was the caster stuff.

The first great find was a scepter specifically designed for complex rituals, perhaps belonging to Elunath himself. It was an extremely efficient way to use mana, recover the unused power, and recharge one’s reserves faster. It also came with a decent core. That would go to Sidjin since most of his favorite spells were so complex. The second great find was a pouch of cores of various sizes worth several times their worth in gold. The last one was what made Viv absolutely giddy.

“Wait. This is… this is my skinsuit!”

And indeed, the repaired Harrakan cover she had lost in Enoria had somehow found its way to Elunath’s connection. Viv suspected some vindictive Archmage may have something to do with that. Not just that, Elunath had repaired it.

On top of an ink-colored body suit of thin, smooth material, the suit now showed lines of silvery runes. It also felt thicker as well, more solid. Viv urged the men to turn around and put it on after a brief inspection. One of the functions allowed her to adjust the suit to her current size — which was quickly improving thank you very much. It felt great to have it back, though she would check the full functionalities later.

//We have all we can reasonably expect to have.

//For now, we should leave.

“I need to recover my own belongings first,” Abe said, “although I will have to abandon the majority, I will attempt to take as much as feasible. How may we find the ship? Sidjin handled the negotiations.”

“Riverside pier,” Viv said. “The Fat Seamstress. Yes, that is the name of the ship. And yes, I wish we could teleport but we have too much luggage to drag around. We’ll stop at Losserec and get carts.”

“Understood.”

//I will return to the ship with the loot.

“Hmm, is it safe?” Viv asked.

The bag was certainly large and clinked loudly.

Solfis gave her the most pitying, condescending gaze she had ever received and the worst thing was that he managed it without facial expression.

“Giant murder golem. Right. As for me, I need to close the feud. I’ll drop by the palace and be on my way. Hopefully we’ll be gone by tonight.”

//Is this necessary?

“The government can contest us taking the loot away if we don’t formalize our victory. And they can claim the girl’s contracts as well, depending on Elunath’s obligations to the government. We also need it to transfer all bank-held assets to our names though this is less important. I still don’t want to give up that pile of gold without trying. Arthur would never forgive me.”

//They could try to delay you.

“If they stonewall me I’ll just leave. It’s for the harem, really. It would be a pity to free them only for unscrupulous nobles to come after them or their villages. Elunath preyed on girls without support.”

“We can all meet on the ship once you are done, Viviane. And if they do block your attempts with legal acrobatics, I know of a few lawyers who will make it extremely painful.”

“Alright.”

Viv didn’t know how much Elunath had in his multiple accounts but it had to be massive. The man was not just rich, he’d been rich for three centuries. She considered her options as they left the empty manor, also technically part of her estate. The Manipeleso Bank and Exchange undoubtedly offered legal services. She’d just lawyer up, promise them a share of the estate if they won and unleash them upon the unsuspecting Helockian justice system.

The group split near the gate to the lower city. Viv continued on along the wall while Abe flew up and Solfis walked past a flabbergasted guard. The main square soon came into view bathed in the late afternoon sun. She noticed an uneasy hum in the populace, many groups discussing in low voices.

They all stopped.

Slowly, silence spread through the vast square until hundreds of people watched Viv stroll across the stone plaza, head held high yet slightly uneasy. There was respect here, but also a lot of fear, and scared people did stupid things. She was committed now and turning her back would be a bad idea but perhaps, just perhaps, she ought to hurry. Her distinctive black sclera made the closest people recoil despite her demure aura. No one contested her when she entered the palace’s courtyard, nor when she walked into the massive rectangular fortress that was the heart of Helockian’s power. She still had to request some help to go through the security door. A young intern volunteered to lead her.

“Hmm, this way,” the young man said, clutching a notebook to his chest. “The service closes in an hour. You’re just in time, haha.”

“I do like to be punctual,” she said.

It somehow terrified the poor kid. She felt a little sorry. Despite his misgivings, he led her through a path she recognized. Sullen guards let her through with nothing more than hostile gazes. Her danger sense kept quiet. So far so good.

“After you,” the clerk finally said.

They walked into the Clan Management Office section. The desk at the end of the corridor stood empty. She looked around to find empty rooms. There were still glasses of klod left steaming on desks burdened with paperwork.

Something was wrong.

She turned to the clerk who seemed just as surprised as she was.

“I, errr, they might be on break? I will check the cafeteria for you. It won’t be long. Sorry.”

He returned to the door. It was locked. He rattled it in vain. Before Viv could decide what to do, the magical equivalent of a heavy coat descended on her. It felt like gravity being suddenly doubled. She gasped. The clerk turned to her.

“Are you alright? Hm.”

Still no sense of being in danger, except she was. She definitely was. Just not in immediate danger. She experimentally called some mana. It coated her hand but could not go far beyond a few centimeters away from her skin. Something was constricting her.

Loud noises filled the entire department. Darkness spread as every window was shuttered, metal panes descending on rock like death knells. The clerk called light with a shaky hand. He looked terrified.

“I didn’t know! I swear.”

“It’s fine,” Viv said.

“I’m sorry!”

“I said it’s fine. Not your decision.”

It didn’t take a genius to realize she was being imprisoned. The only thing she didn’t expect was how well-defended the palace of Helock was, though considering the number of mages in their ranks and the fact it was still technically a keep, it should not come as a surprise. Viv’s perception remained clear. There were active wards on every wall, the ceiling, and the floor. Additionally, a strange spell compressed the mana around her. It felt targeted as well as extremely inefficient. It took a monstrous amount of mana to suppress someone from far away. Case in point, she could still cast but only spells that were close to her. The clerk didn’t seem affected either.

A panel opened on the door that had just been locked and now shone with warding mana. A pair of panicked eyes found her in the shaky light.

“What is the meaning of this?” Viv asked, though she had an idea what was going on.

“You are under custody while the council discusses a possible violation of the collateral damage clause.”

“What collateral damage? Elunath destroyed the city.”

“The destruction of a warehouse as well as the death of officer Semon and his squad.”

Officer Semon? Oh, possibly the corrupt prick they’d baited into leading Elunath to her pipe bomb.

Viv seethed in silence, knowing full well complaining would achieve nothing. This was just an excuse. If they had not used that one they would have found something else. The fact they could not have expected her meant it was a snap decision. It also was a bad sign. She knew Helock would eventually come after her rather than allow a stranger to take over Elunath’s everything. She also knew killing their Archmage would lead to resentment. She just didn’t expect it to be so soon and so brazen, especially after she’d proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that she should not be messed with. That was the problem with assholes in power. They eventually believed that the fall of others didn’t concern them. That they were invincible because they were still undefeated.

And curse her for relying too much on danger sense. It didn’t protect her from reckless political attacks.

Viv found a seat and plopped her stupid butt on in. She grabbed a pot of klod and helped herself to some. The clerk looked like he was praying to all the gods.

“You there. I am not going to hurt you.”

“Thank you…”

“Come closer please. I’d like some light.”

“Ah? Of course, of course.”

Viv sipped from her cup and considered her options.

The Academy would move to support her against that very obvious abuse of power. Unfortunately, the very fact they’d shut her in implied they no longer care about rules. This was Nyil, not earth. the rule of law only applied among equals here. They were never meant to protect the outsider. The council threw the illusion of fairness out of the window the moment they decided to imprison her. That meant that escape was the best tool. The problem was that she couldn’t cast easily, for one, and her allies were waiting for her at the boat. She hoped no one would go after them.

Her best bet would be to get out via a window. She felt around the wards there. They were solid but she was confident she could cut through them using a dagger-sized Excalibur. The problem was that her enemies would definitely feel it and get flying war mages and griffin riders on the other side. She was still mentally tired from the fight with Elunath. It had barely been half a day.

She could also cut through the ground but again, her guards would feel it. Same with the ceiling. Her harness would probably work, being close to her skin. She finished the cup of klod.

She could also go through the door although that was probably the worst option.

Maybe wait for nightfall and then get out. She was confident she could eventually lose pursuers with a cloud of darkness. What she wasn’t confident in was getting jumped from inside as soon as the wards were attacked and then being bombarded the moment her toe left the fortress’ boundaries.

And perhaps some bright idiot would send special forces in to put manacles on her any time now.

It was a conundrum.

Viv’s mulling got interrupted by a commotion on the outside. It sounded like people arguing. A spell fused and she heard a body hit furniture. It didn’t sound like a battle just yet. Not enough screams.

A heavy fist banged on the door. A moment later, the slit opened. It took her only a second to recognize the bushy brows of Dean Tallit, head of the Academy.

“Viviane. It seems I was a little late. Hold on, we need some privacy.”

He whispered a few words and the yells of protest were silenced.

“Better. I am sorry I did not reach you in time to warn you. It was honorable of you to close the feud. Unfortunately, Councillor Pendath called on the council to strike against you. They were in session when you gormlessly walked into the snake pit.”

“I am blaming myself enough as it is.”

“Yes. The trappings of honor. The council was happy enough to let you roam free to teach Elunath some humility and weaken his hold on the council. They never actually expected you to win.”

“How many monsters must I kill…”

“Oh, I suspect that one was the last drop. Now they are scared and unprepared, a state rulers should never find themselves in. By the way, we gambled on your success. Black mana tenured Professor Ashra made seventy-two silvers betting you would kill him in combat.”

“Delighted. I think I need to get out of here.”

“You do,” the dean agreed. “I will do all I can to fight them but I must remain neutral for the sake of the school, which is why I haven’t turned that door into so much splinter. The old farts on the council will use this against me. If you have another solution, now’s the time to use it.”

“My friends…”

“The council hasn’t tried to stop them yet. You walked right into their jaw but I assure you, they know better than annoy the Red Mist. And that bone horror you dug out from the Old Empire. Think about yourself. If you need gear… maybe I can visit again. Unfortunately, that’s the limit of what I can achieve.”

“Ok. Well, check on me later. I might have something.”

“We’re on your side. Good luck.”

“Yes,” Viv said as Tallit left. “Luck.”

She did have a bit of luck stored away. And a favor owed to her. It was the perfect time to cash in.

She sat in a lotus position and closed her eyes.

“I would like privacy please,” she told the clerk.

“Of course, milady.”

Viv was alone now.

Breathe in, breathe out, relax. Her soul awareness expanded. The walls faded away. Nyil faded away. She extended herself to that magnificent nothing, that endless dot that was the in between. Her soul popped up in the void between consciousnesses. It felt empty for now.

“EMERIC, YOU ODIOUS TWAT,” she said.

“EMERIIIIIIIIC!”

She waited for a moment or an eternity, hard to say. Suddenly, dawn rose over the emptiness in a surge of glory. She basked in the golden light while a solid Greek temple manifested around her complete with alabaster Ionic columns. A blinding form stepped out in a shower of energy.

“Yes? Sorry, was in a meeting.”

“I kindly request your assistance with my current predicament.”

“One moment,” the monstrous, overwhelmingly strong planet-sized presence replied. He plucked a memory from her mind and read it.

“I see, I see. You certainly seem to face a great number of assholes.”

“Yes,” Viv agreed, facing the god, “fancy that.”

“Ha ha. Well, I do owe you one, and besides, fuck those people. They have violated the right of hospitality after a lawful duel. Back in my days, we hanged people for that.”

“Ok gramps. I would like to escape and I’ll call it a win.”

“It so happens that I do have something that would help tremendously. You’re gonna love it. Oooh yes. You will love it very much. I will even return your music box for the occasion. You know, the spark of luck is much more enjoyable once you learn to go with it.”

“It also made you incredibly obnoxious.”

“Yes, but I was more discriminating in who I decided to annoy in my younger days. I have learned to do so again. My advice still stands. The spark of luck is yours but it is not, in fact, your problem.”

“Oh really?”

“It is everybody else’s problem. I will reclaim the tools after you are done so do not worry. Have fun!”

Viv opened her eyes. A plastic glow stick shone on an open wood crate like she had seen so many times before. It was a shipping crate with a fragile stamp and a ‘this side up’. Her MP3 reader waited for her on the side. She stood up and approached. Nestled in the straw, she found a treasure trove of goodies.

“Combat outfit. Fucking Emeric, you could have given me top of the line modern stuff instead of my gear. It’s half a century old back on earth!”

Nevertheless, she felt giddy strapping on the familiar uniform over her skin suit. She hummed as she attached her dagger focus to the knife sheath.

There were M67 hand grenades and a few flashbangs.

“Oho!”

A red-colored satchel charge with a timer, a model she’d never seen before.

“Ok so you did give me some modern stuff.”

And at the bottom of the crate was a very large metal case. She hoisted it. It was super heavy.

“Ok? You have my interest.”

There was a logo on the surface.

Property of Eurodyne, classification level: Galaxy. DO NOT OPEN.

Opening this without former auth—

“Oooooh.”

There was some sort of digital lock. She placed her finger and the thing beeped green. Inside, she found a full backpack with a single slit and from that slit emerged an ammo belt carrying long, thin cartridges with red tips. The rest of the case held what could only be a light machine gun. The slick black shape was futuristic yet familiar.

EX-46 commando belt-fed infantry assault gun. Prototype 5.

“Ok. I take it back. You did send me the good stuff. Nice. NICE.”

The gun even had a small screen attached to the side. She opened it.

Helmet link: not found.

Satellite connection: not found.

Reverting to manual mode.

Human forms appeared as white outlines behind the transparent form of the wall. A target reticule showed where the next bullets would probably land.

“Hehehehehe. Ok, Helock. I feel that our relationship has gone toxic over the past year. Your hurt me. I hurt you. It’s time for us to break up. I’m sorry. ”

Uniform: On.

Shield: On her left arm.

Grenades:Strapped.

Satchel: Placed.

Belt: Chambered.

There was only one thing left to do.

Viv grabbed the MP3 reader to pick up a song. She barely hesitated. There were nice songs but only one was just perfect for the occasion. She was going to be free as a bird now.

Due to temporary access to otherworldly tools, your unused skill: Special Forces training at intermediate 4 has been reactivated

“You know what, Emeric is only partly right. I am not mad anymore.”

“Hey you!” the guard said, opening the slit. “Who are you talking to?”

“And I am not going to be a problem to you assholes.”

The guard’s eyes found the crate. They widened.

“I’m about to be THE problem.”

“What in Maranor’s name—”

“And, Gods, I won’t chaAaAaAaAnge.”

The satchel charge exploded, sending the door in the guard’s teeth along with Nyil’s first introduction to high explosives. Viv was out before the smashed pieces finished landing. The guards were dead. There were more coming out of a passage to her right. She aimed up and pressed the trigger. The gun vomited a stream of metal that pasted the guards, the furniture behind the guards, a decorative set of armor, two curtains and the faraway window. Stone and steel shards rained everywhere. She was sent crashing on broken chairs by the recoil.

“Oof.”

Shorter controlled bursts needed. Sensitive trigger on that thing. Actually… The thing about the skin suit was that it let her mana through. She forced it and… her wings deployed, annihilating a layer of kevlar.

“Much better.”

Viv sprinted forward. She could feel the dampening effect following her but also where it was coming from. She found stairs down. Another corridor. Shields at the end, with a waiting battle mage. Shielded. She anchored herself.

“YOU HAVE MESSED WITH ME—”

The opposition disappeared in a pink cloud.

“FOR THE LAST DAMN TIME!”

Hard on her arms but anchored, the recoil was mostly negated. Another corridor. Guitar riffs rang loud in her ears. Some people were running, she ignored them. Stairs down. A half circle of steel shields with three Archmages.

She pulled a pin.

“Enjoy!”

Fragmentation pinged on shields that were not designed to stop something that moved so fast. She was among them. Anchored. One arm on the barrel, then left to right. Bullets streamed across armor and flesh alike. Arcane defenses did little to stop Earth engineering.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.”

Viv moved before the survivors could recover to find a closed door. Ballistic breaching on the hinges opened the way. Her heart beat fast and the air felt great in her lungs. It tasted of freedom and retribution. Her danger sense spiked. No direction. She coated herself in mana and swung her wings. One of them caught something. A woman. Impaled and surprised, blood bubbling on her lips. A dagger in her hand. Assassin.

“Nice try.”

People were coming from both sides. She rushed forward and gunned down guards as soon as they appeared. Her instincts pushed her to roll. An arrow pinged on her shield. She shot back. Bullets ravaged the corridor behind her, shredding everything in its path including a crossbowman. Some others took cover behind walls. It didn’t help. Whatever was in those bullets was designed to fuck someone up through a bunker wall. Viv kept running and for the first time, people ran away.

She went down another corridor to find cowering civil servants huddling in corners. Others yelped when they saw her. She ignored them as they were not a threat. Some of the guards surrendered or ran away when she raced past them. Time was of the essence. She soon came across another locked door. Demolish the hinges. A flashbang. She tried to shoot through the walls. It worked. Emeric didn’t skimp. Only a few more doors and she was there.

On a corner of the fortress, she found a ritual room with thick, reinforced windows. A circle occupied most of the empty space and in that circle, three defiant mages stood. That was the construct oppressing her. They were fed by more mana from elsewhere but they were the hand that pressed down on her neck. The shield was one of those rare, two-directional shields that stopped aggression in both directions. It made them extremely resilient and that one was fed power from the outside. She could try to force it but… she had a better idea. Manifesting a tiny Excalibur, she started to dig around the circle, stopping at equal length to bore small holes. It didn’t take long. Meanwhile, the head mage was raving at her.

“If you’d just stayed where you are, you could have faced a tribunal with good cause but no, you had to fight out of here like the wild witch you are. Your efforts are futile. This shield is fed by the entire castle’s mana grid.”

“Oh, I know.”

Viv placed her five remaining frag grenades in the tiny holes. Moving fast, she removed all the pins and stepped back.

“The floor isn’t though.”

“You bi—”

The grenades went off in quick succession, collapsing the entire room and the surrounding walls into the courtyard below in a cataclysmic explosion and a cascade of crashing masonry. The mages screamed insults but she was already free. Free to cast. It was like taking a deep breath after a dive.

The late afternoon skyline of Helock waited invitingly. She activated her harness. Her danger sense screamed and she jumped away, casting a shield as she did. The rest of the room exploded from a flurry of thick blue projectiles. Griffin riders using their staves passed by in a tight formation.

Viv stood up quickly. The griffin riders geared for another pass in the distance. Five there. maybe more outside. Could she contest? Not sure but the ground floor had to have a basement and that basement had to have an underground access. She just needed to find stairs. Actually, no. Sometimes, you just had to make the stairs. Viv made sure there was no one underneath, then she pulled an Excalibur and cut a circle around her feet. The ground collapsed on a meeting table a floor below. She cut again and ended up in a cafeteria of sorts.

There was a team of war mages a little farther. They were in the process of putting their armor on.

Viv fully deployed her draconic aura. Her wings were out like two bleeding wounds in the fabric of reality. Tendrils of black mana emerged from her nightmarish armor, caressing the stone and leaving behind furrows of glassy smoothness. she aimed the gaping, reddening maw of her gun at the small group.

“ARE YOU SURE?”

They dropped everything they had and ran away. Good on them. Now, time to get away.

One more cut and she was in a waiting room on the ground floor. It looked deserted. She brought up the EX-46’s radar to see what was waiting outside.

Apparently, the entirety of the Helockian military including their war mages. Someone gestured at her and she felt mana spike outside.

“Aegis.”

She was confident in finding a basement but… something called to her. Something up. She had to go up.

Viv used her harness to lift off again the same way she had come in. An instant later, the cafeteria disappeared in a torrent of offensive spells. Smoke filled the air. There were screams outside. It was pure chaos but she went on. Dig a small hole with Excalibur, wait for the stone to fall, rinse and repeat. She carved her way up avoiding the groups she could perceive and see. Someone opened a door and aimed a staff at her. Viv rotated and pulled the trigger. Another deafening blast and the library she was in turned to shrapnel and flying shards. No one tried anything after that.

Viv burst out into the crimson light of the setting sun, arms extended, wings free, floating up like a happy balloon while two squadrons of griffin riders approached in attack formation and the song reached a paroxysm. She saw the riders line up their shots, blue orbs shining on the background of the floating rocks.

And then claws caught her from the back.

Mother!

Are they foes?

“Yes, let’s show them who rules the skies.”

“SKRAAAAA!”

Griffin attack orbs and shields met a cascade of fire, spells, and flying metal. One of the griffins fell immediately, shields smashed in an instant.

The captain veered away from the death storm coming at them but Ikos wasn’t so lucky. Disciplined, the survivors turned and flew after the witch and her pet. She couldn’t let that stain on Helock’s honor go. They tightened ranks but her shield threatened to fail and only her instincts saved her. Around, powerful impacts peppered the griffins’ formidable defenses. It was not magic. What in Neriad’s name was going on? Then… the pet disappeared into a portal, only to reappear in another one right next to it, barreling towards them with no loss of speed. Spells formed in the air.

“Spread out!”

The order was useless. Her team had seen the threat and made to evade. Jar wasn’t so lucky. The dragon picked him up and dropped his body against a nearby floating stone. It broke from the impact.

“Shit!”

Needed an opening. She used her inspect. It was designed to assess flying enemies.

[Ascender, Elemental war caster, fourth step.]

[Juvenile dragon]

The captain felt a chill down her spine just as the title seemingly merged, something that only happened when two riders achieved such a level of coordination that they became greater than the sum of their parts.

[Harrakan Air Supremacy. Flying danger level: 7]

Even before the new title appeared, even before she remembered there was no danger level 8 in the old imperial nomenclature, even before she remembered the manual stating that 7 was a young adult dragon, a thought had wormed itself in the captain’s head, drowning all others.

What the fuck am I doing?

“Pull out! Pull out!”

The riders spread out and the dragon mercifully didn’t give chase. Gray mana surged and a gale carried the hostile pair up and away at great speed.

Dean Tallit upended his glass and raised it to the dusk sun and the witch flying away from the comfort of his balcony. Puffs of black mana followed the dreadful pair, spelling ‘get bent’ in the northerner tongue.

“And fair travels to you, Viv.”

Far below the escaping witch, a stunned calm reigned over the street in front of the palace, broken only when a severely damaged wall collapsed to reveal the destruction inside. Smoke belched from the open wounds of the thrashed fortress where artillery spells had detonated them.

Besides him, Ashra poured herself another glass while the rest of the faculty celebrated the show in various degrees of inebriation.

“I will miss our classes,” the short-haired professor said.

“No doubt. Nice new boots by the way. They look expensive.”

“They were. I believe young Ereska has fallen asleep. Would you help me place her on a couch? And after that, perhaps we could find a private nook?”

“I would like that very much.”

Mother! Mother! You are so small!

“Just a little. It’s you who has grown so much! Look at you! So majestic!”

Mother! Mother! You have wings!

“Yes!”

I told you, you should eat more to grow wings and you said humans don’t work that way.

“Yeees?”

You did grow wings.

So I was right!

As always!

Anyway.

Where is the rest of them?

“Errr.”

Mother?

“Look, it was difficult.”

Mother.

“It’s a work in progress.”

Mother.

Wings are made to fly.

Mother.

What are those?

Seriously!

Chapter 148: Harrak is back

Viv’s euphoria lasted just long enough for the gun to disappear and Arthur’s recriminations to turn into a massive rant.

Wings are the pride of our kind.

“But I’m not a dragon,” Viv whispered.

Wings must be big and floaty.

Good vessel for gray mana.

“But I can’t use gray manaaaaaaa.”

Mother must grow real wings soon.

Or else we will both be shamed.

“Damn you’re really a teenager now. I can’t embarrass you in front of the cool kids.”

Is important.

Judgment is very strong.

I attacked him many times.

I could not make him move.

“Wait, you spent time with Judgment?”

Of course.

Judgment, biggest dragon.

Eats very well.

I study.

Not very smart though.

Big hoard, no investment.

She shook her head with disapproval.

“Right, hmmm. It’s all well and good… but we should return to the others.”

Others?

“They’re on a ship heading west.”

We do not need others.

“Solfis is there. So is Sidjin.”

Hmph.

I suppose they are tolerable.

Arthur veered south and Viv used the opportunity to look at the dragonette. First, she wasn’t a dragonette anymore. Her wingspan was over two Vivs. She was also more than one Viv and a half long and that was the pre-transformation Viv. For all her length, Arthur remained lithe and thin, much more graceful than the towering juggernaut Judgment was, or the green dragon they’d met in the forest. Arthur now used a combination of flaps and gray mana to fly at speeds that would leave a biplane behind yet little wind roared in Viv’s face. The maneuvers she’d performed on the griffin also showed she’d gained some aerial combat training, possibly from Judgment. It warmed her heart to see that her adopted daughter had not rested on her laurels, preferring to push herself to excellence instead.

It didn’t take long for Arthur to locate the ship, mostly by finding a towering column of dark smoke and searching from there. Viv spotted the ship with ease. It was the only one covered in a transparent shield dome visible from up there. Arthur still approached with some care even after Viv recognized the people on the deck. Enhanced vision was really amazing.

Should have teleported.

“We don’t actually have an uninterrupted series of portals back to Harrak. Many of them are isolated from each other and require us to walk a little. That’s fine if it’s just us but we have many mages and their luggage. It will be easier to stop in Losserec and get ourselves some carts. Safer too. Teleportation gates can be trapped.

Fair enough.

Arthur landed lightly on the railing under the concerned gazes of quite a few groups of people but they all calmed down once they noticed her. While Arthur hopped on the prow for a nap, Viv turned to Sidjin, who was surveying the shore next to a man with a captain hat. He looked weirdly dreamy.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“The guard tried to stop us but we sent them away. We’ve had horsemen following us and a river fort threatened to shoot at us. Otherwise, it was all smooth sailing, pun intended.”

“And the fire?”

Sidjin shrugged.

“I just had to remind the fort soldiers that whatever they had, I had better. I didn’t kill anyone, if that is your concern.”

Viv winced internally. Her escape had been… bloody. However, her freedom was on the line and that meant no holding back. She’d been captured once before. Never again.

“What about you?” she asked the captain, “Can we count on your cooperation?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I am a part of the trader’s guild. Our policy is to let pirates and bandits take our belongings, then escalate the problem to the recovery division. As it is, however, you have given good coin for the transit including hazard pay. I expect that the council will file a complaint with the guild and then be told to fuck off. And besides, I can swear under oath that I was physically compelled to cooperate. Your lady in blue even whipped me. Look!”

He pulled his shirt to reveal red marks, some already bruising a little. It didn’t look too bad.

“I see.”

The captain leaned in conspiratorially.

“Do you… do you think she would do it again? If I asked nicely?”

“Errr. You’ll have to ask her.”

“You see, my wife — she is a good woman—”

“Terribly sorry captain but I really fear you will have to discuss it with her and her alone,” Viv insisted while Sidjin laughed silently in the background.

“Now if you have to excuse me, I must greet the rest of the passengers.”

“Of course.”

The next person on the list was a complete surprise to the point that Viv did a double take. Under the watchful gaze of two bodyguards stood a man Viv never expected to see: General Jaratalassi, the Steel Trap. Her strategy teacher leaned against the railing, a lit pipe in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other. He looked like he had just come out of the barber and his hair was braided back. With a comfortable northerner garb, he might have just finished his class.

“General. An unexpected pleasure.”

“Ah, Viviane, just the woman I wanted to see.”

As Viv got closer, she realized the man was more tired than he let on. There were deep pockets under his bloodshot eyes. His posture shifted and the weakness was gone as if it had never been there.

“I have a request for you.”

“Do tell? I’m afraid I cannot go on an expedition together again. I am heading back to Harrak.”

“Yes, well, I am counting on it, not least because I am technically the leader of the army of the city you just humiliated.”

“Ah.”

“The guards are not under my command, however, so I shall close my eyes on this entire fiasco. Pendrath had it coming. I warned him several times. I will be brief. I need your help.”

“My help?” Viv asked, somewhat surprised.

The older man nodded. He tapped his pipe and let embers fall on the turgid waves of the river Shal.

“I’d like for Harrak to join the Paramese alliance. And then I need you, specifically you, to join me on the Hallurian front.”

Viv frowned. That was entirely unexpected, yet the sense of worry she picked up from the aging general told her he was not joking.

“I thought the Hallurians were vanquished?” she asked.

“Everybody thinks so and most rulers pulled their forces back from the border. Look, I am turning to you because you have a good head on your shoulders. We both know why troops have been pulled back.”

“It’s expensive and leaves home undefended.”

“Yes, yes, you were a good student. The point is that there is no immediate threat. There is, however, a very serious hint of one. I sent seven scout squads over the border in the past two months. They have all returned alive.”

“What?”

Viv was flabbergasted.

“This never happens.”

“Indeed not. They reported deserted fishing villages, abandoned mushroom farms. Cities depopulated of men of fighting age. Something is brewing. Something massive. I may have a glorious title but I am merely a Helockian noble without much wealth. The only forces I command are the ones lent to me by willing participants and that is why I turn to you. Look, I can facilitate your accession to the rank of participating nation which will solidify your legitimacy. I will also convince Baran to let you install gates on their territory. They will also provide you with all the supplies you need. I would still be lying if I said it was worth it. I am not asking you to come because it benefits you. I am asking because it benefits Param.”

His speech finished, Jaratalassi returned to his resigned silence.

Viv was sure the man had social skills in spades, mostly leadership. She’d had a taste of it. And yet, he had not seen fit to use it on her. That meant, according to etiquette, that he saw her as an equal. His attempt to sway her was as transparent as it was candid and Viv felt herself moved by the old warrior’s humility. Not that it mattered of course. She had the spark of luck and planned on turning Harrak into an internationally recognized independent… whatever it was she was building. Constitutional monarchy?! In any case, her fate was sealed the moment Jaratalassi had opened his mouth.

“I need some time. My army is not ready for maneuvers.”

“I expected it. Begin your preparations, build your teleporters because when that thing comes, it will come fast and hit hard. Call it… intuition.”

“I will have everything ready for your signal. You have my word.”

Jaratalassi grabbed Viv’s hand with surprising speed and strength. Fingers dug in her uniform and the skinsuit underneath. To the side, Solfis rose to a stand. The bodyguards paled.

Viv found herself drowned in the intensity of the man’s gaze.

“I will hold you to it. I WILL hold you to it. This is vital. Absolutely vital.”

He blinked.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright and I have taken your warning to heart.”

“Right. Yes. I need sleep. I will retire below deck until we reach the next port.”

Viv let him go, turning to Solfis who merely clicked back into compact position.

“You alright there Solfis?”

//The betrayal of the council requires a swift and decisive punishment.

//However, we do not have the capability to carry it out.

//I am distracting myself from this frustration by writing the code that I will gift to my first child.

“After this fiasco, I’d be surprised if the council isn’t reshuffled.”

//It does not matter that they are punished.

//It matters that we inflict the punishment.

//And warn the rest.

//Nevertheless, I admit that you set a good example.

//I shall have to be satisfied with it.

//I am also staying here because your newest recruits find my appearance unnerving.

“You mean to say that the skeletal mage killer golem appearance scares them a little? How peculiar.”

//Sarcasm detected.

//You slew Elunath in glorious combat.

//Yet I am the one they are afraid of.

//It strikes me as a deficiency of the meat mind.

//A similar shape fosters foolish trust.

“You’re just mad because you can’t preach the greatness of Harrak to them.”

//Perhaps.

Viv noticed a rather peculiar moment. The last group on the deck was made of a smattering of young mages around the tall, grandfatherly figure of Abe. Despite the gray skin and red eyes, he had managed to make himself less threatening by sitting relaxedly on a barrel under the distrustful gaze of Lana, the only one who had not succumbed to his smooth charm. One of the girls sniffed quietly, her shoulder under the protective paw of the servant of Enttiku.

“Of course, you have not recovered yet. You have fought through a long storm and you have survived a terrible ordeal. For this, you deserve praise for there is no harder fight than to stand in the face of hopelessness. And now, you face a wave. Waves will come and go, child, for the sea remembers the storm. Sometimes, the wave will be low, just a painful reminder of the storm. Sometimes, the wave will rise until you feel submerged, until you feel like you are drowning. You are not. It is just a wave. It will come and go and when it has passed, you will be yourself again. They will always return, child, but they will always pass. And if you open your eyes, you will see that many other rafts face those waves, and that you are not alone. We are here with you.”

The girl sobbed a yes. They fell into a group hug.

It gave Viv the warm fuzzies. At least, she’d done that. She’d given them a chance. That counted, here on Nyil.

Also, Viv thought, they now had a psychotherapist-Lich.

She didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Ah, Viv, did you want something?” Abe asked after they split.

“No no, just checking in on everyone.”

“We are fine. And safe. Now how about dinner? I am famished.”

The next day, everyone was rested and Viv shared her plan, which was immediately shot down by Sidjin.

“Nothing beats teleportation in terms of speed and we should not remain on this ship any longer than we have to. No force on the continent would be willing to face us head on but believe me when I say that they have plenty of ways to sink a ship that we cannot even begin to imagine. I have free access to the teleportation network I set up for the builder’s guild and they happen to have branches all over northern Enoria. We will stop at the next quarry, hire one cart, teleport to Losserec, and then travel south using your witch gates.”

Viv relented. It was a bit shameful to realize that high mental stats did nothing for lazy planning. The ability to think fast did not make one think critically. It was a painful reminder she’d needed. After that, she let Sidjin organize the rest of the trip. Their passage through Losserec was too fast to generate much of a response but once they hit the first witch gate, they realized they had a problem.

“It’s destroyed,” Lana said, stating the obvious.

Someone had meticulously demolished the gate. There were no traces of who had done it but from the cracks, it could not have been recent. The culprit had left an imprint in a nearby rock: the new royal seal of Enoria. A hawk over a forest.

“It looks like King Sangor objects to the leader of another nation traipsing freely over his land,” Viv observed.

//That does seem wise.

“Yeah. Well. That complicates matters.”

The truth was that Viv was transporting half a country’s military worth of arcane firepower without warning the local boss and that was considered a serious diplomatic faux-pas. As a proponent of the ‘ask for forgiveness, not permission’ school of getting away with things, Viv was faced with a difficult decision. She could give Sangor enough time to corner her into a meeting on his terms or she could double down.

She opted for doubling down. She’d already committed, so the ‘fuck around and the find out’ would not be much worse if she got caught anyway.

“Arthur. I need you to carry me.”

“Squeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry but unless you want to go ahead by yourself, we need a way to move faster.”

Arthur grunted. During the battle, Viv had switched from her claws to her back but Arthur categorically refused to be ridden unless circumstances demanded it. They argued until the scaled menace agreed to carry Viv under her like a grumpy fuel tank.

Thus began a game of ‘island hopping’. Viv would set up a gate, then fly to another location and build its twin. The mages would then walk through it and set camp, disabling the previous platform. That method allowed them to mess up tracking. To Viv’s immense surprise, they crossed Enoria like this in less than a week and without accident. The sight of the Deadshield woods filled her with intense relief. From then on, it was the matter of only a couple of minutes to use the still-active witch gates.

The portal opened to show Kazar and the fertile strip in all its glory. The colossal purple tree overlooking the walled city served as an imposing landmark in rolling hills of green peppered with elevated villages. Laborers crowded the fields, planting seeds for spring. It was a massive improvement compared to the first time she had been here. Now, the deadlands were merely a cover of clouds far in the distance, still present, still dangerous, yet pushed back through effort and dedication. Viv smiled.

She was home.

City guards rushed towards her, hands on their spears and bows. Most recognized her immediately.

“Your teleportation was not scheduled! State your— oh. Lady Bob? Is that you?”

“In the flesh! I’m back and better than ever.”

The officer was young and flustered. His eyes searched over her new companions. He was not ready.

“Oh great! I can send a messenger to Lady Azar. Or Voice Farren? The Lady Azar is in Sinur’s Gate. Oh, Mage Rakan occupies your old tower. Do you want to meet them?”

“Slow down,” Viv said with a laugh. “We’ll go to the tower first, and travel deeper inland afterward.”

It looked to Viv like it was going to be a long series of meeting people and catching up. That was fine. It was also inevitable.

Viv walked through the gates of Kazar, attracting a crowd. She smiled and shook hands and held the babies. There were a lot of newcomers, mostly passing through. They could be recognized by the fact they were afraid of her eyes and left flabbergasted by the familiarity people were treating her with.

“Who are we fighting this time? Is it the Enorians?” an old veteran asked.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Viv replied with an embarrassed laugh.

“Did you topple another government?” a baker asked her with a frown.

“Err. Maybe?”

“Good, show those arrogant c—”

“Lady Bob! Can you tell my mom she should let me have a sword?”

And so on and so forth. By the time she reached the base of the tree, the square was packed full so she used the opportunity to make a small speech. Mostly she said it was great to be back, that exciting stuff was on the horizon, no it was not another invasion, and to welcome the people she’d brought with her. Rakan opened the door and let everyone in. He looked good, Viv realized. Tan and healthy. He stood straight with most of the leaking mana swirling into the staff that hosted it. More importantly, there were children with him.

“Hey, Viviane. Welcome home.”

“Your home now. I’ve moved to the palace. And you have pupils?”

The children hid behind him. To be honest, they were more teenagers than truly children, just on the cusp of adulthood in that gangly and awkward phase many had. They were mage trainees. That much was clear from their auras. Interestingly, two of them had a strong affinity for black.

“Yes. Children here have shown a strong affinity for the arcane arts. Before, they would have been sent to Enoria with a caravan but the people have seen it fit to stop. Wonder why.”

“I don’t,” Viv chuckled.

“In any case, we have a budding new generation and I do my best to lead them on the path to greatness.”

The teens collectively blushed.

“It’s a long road for sure.”

They groaned.

“But I have faith. My mastery of all primary hues allows me to train any one of them. Besides that, my duties also extend to repairing the wall wards and going on expeditions to clear more land with the One Hundred. I have studied your obelisks and I have successfully replicated the first one two weeks ago.”

“That is great news! Who are the One Hundred?”

“Ah right, you don’t know. I will let Ban explain it to you. In the meanwhile, let me introduce our promising new prospects.”

There followed a very long series of meetings. Viv was not annoyed because it was an essential aspect of rulership, as her dad had told her multiple times. Nothing enforced loyalty more than seeing the ruler and feeling valued by them, given time and attention, and so she smiled and nodded and offered commiseration and promises that were vague enough to be believable. Merchants complained about taxes, influential folks about their neighbors. Viv received them all and listened with a placid smile. Lana and her mages used the opportunity to walk around town to buy necessities but Abe stayed by her side. He had a calming effect. So did Solfis but not for the same reasons. As for Arthur, she flew off to nap somewhere after eating a bowl of eggs.

In the midst of conversations, she gathered nuggets of valuable information. Who despised whom, what looming conflict could upset the peace of the city, and so on. There were tensions between newcomers and the original Kazarans. The merchants had formed a guild to oppose Lady Azar but she’d stymied them at every turn. Crime was on the rise since some who came had been exiled for good reasons. A prison had to be built to contain them. Public spending had massively risen and so had taxes. There was some bad but as someone who had been in Afghanistan mid-insurgency, this was all pretty tame. Just normal tensions in a city undergoing growing pains.

And then came the temple, led by Farren. The angelic young man now looked much more confident than he used to. He was also backed by the temple guard which made Viv’s eyebrows rise. Lorn, their leader, appeared embarrassed. Koro the Amazon was just super excited to see Viv and waved when she thought no one could see her. Farren was obviously tense.

“Are you alright, Farren? You seem… upset.”

“First, forgive me, I must assure you are who you claim you are.”

Viv nodded. That was a reasonable decision considering the existence of gods like Gomogog who could shape flesh. Farren prayed until a golden light filled the receiving room she was using as her temporary throne hall. She used to have tea there with Varska, too long ago.

“Neriad’s light shines on duplicity. His wisdom reveals that you are who you say you are,”

“That’s great.”

“He, uh, has a message for you.”

“Oh, that’s bad.”

“He says to heed the warning of the man with a mind like a steel trap.”

Viv rolled her eyes.

“I already trust General Jaratalassi. And why so cryptic? ‘Listen to Jar’ would have sufficed. Why do they always try to act so mysterious, I swear.”

Farren didn’t seem amused by Viv’s cavalier tone.

“You should be more careful when dealing with gods, especially the patron of Harrak. At least I know this is really you.”

“Sorry,” Viv said.

Emeric and Neriad had shown some remarkable patience with her but that was no reason to piss off their entire clergy.

“That leads us to our next important question,” Farren continued. “Why is there an undead among your followers?”

The atmosphere grew really, really tense in the cramped room. Viv noticed the temple guards gripping the handles of their weapons with grim fatalism. They knew that if they were to fight, they would die. Just Solfis would be enough to dispatch them.

Viv admired their courage and sense of sacrifice. They were respectable morons.

Abe de-escalated the conflict with a winning smile. He closed his eyes and the cowl mark on his forehead shone like a star-struck night sky.

“Enttiku as my witness, I am no abomination come to destroy the living.”

He stretched his arms, palms open.

“I am on your side.”

The guards relaxed. No one could fake divine power, at least not to that level.

“The cowled one offered me a deal to bring peace to the many remains of the deadlands, and to support the living as much as I can.”

“We were under the impression that, huh, Enttiku disapproved of undead.”

“They do. They also considered that I was still, to a reasonable extent, myself, and that it would be better to drag me to the side of good rather than letting me succumb to insanity. I agreed. And besides…”

The room grew dimmer.

“No one can forestall death forever.”

Light returned with Abe’s smile. He invited the guards to relax, which most of them did. Viv made some small talk until Farren mentioned the last reason for his visit.

“Look, your absence left things in a state of flux. We face many uncertainties and uncomfortable questions about what, exactly, we are.”

“We are Harrak.”

“No we are not. Not yet. Harrak was an empire. It needs to be one again.”

The Voice of Neriad leaned forward in his seat. Viv could feel his conviction like a drill pressing against her soul.

“You need to be crowned.”

“We are too small to be an empire.”

“We claim the entirety of the deadlands as our own, and yes I include myself among the citizens of your nation. It matters not. People follow flags and leaders. Either you step up and fill the role you have designed for yourself or the others will tear themselves apart trying to fill it in your stead. You need—”

“Legitimacy. I apologize. You are right. I am merely getting cold feet.”

“You should not apologize in public either.”

“Oh, bollocks. You’ve known me since I was a half-dead witchling just getting here.”

“You need to cultivate an image of gravitas.”

She raised an eyebrow, and he seemed to remember that she’d been baby hugging for the past two hours.

“Oh, very well. Do as you wish, so long as you get yourself crowned before the inevitable next calamity descends upon us. The one that general mentioned, I suppose. What now?”

It was late afternoon. Viv considered gating to Sinur’s Gate but gave up. She’d need the whole day to get everything sorted anyway.

“Send a messenger to Lady Azar that I will rest for now and see her first thing in the morning. In the meanwhile, let’s have a feast!”

And so, they had a feast.

It was good to be the boss, sometimes.

The local cooks outdid themselves with monster meat aplenty, a rarity in Helock. There were also a lot of mushrooms thanks to recently reopened mushroom farms under the rolling hills before Kazar. All of them tasted strongly of black mana which meant they were extra delicious for Viv. The next morning, she teleported to Sinur’s Gate. Due to safety reasons, the arrival spot was set outside of the walls, just in front of the path snaking up to the fortress so a group couldn’t just land inside the walls and mess everything up. Viv was the first to go through and she stopped for two reasons.

First, the city had changed so much it was breathtaking.

When she had besieged it with the Harrakan army, the path had been dust and drab stones leading up to an ominous, dead fortress vomiting hordes of revenants and worse. They’d fought in deserted streets, ambushed at every corner under a gray sky of roiling clouds.

Now it was sunny. Gloriously so, with the early morning light coming from behind the walls, granting the ancient city a warm, golden aura. Tufts of green grass clung to the cliffs, along with creeping vines carrying tiny white flowers. The sounds of life came from the fortress. Smoke rose to the horizons, only to be dispersed by the wind. It smelled of soil, cornudon shit, and sweat and that was much better than death and decay.

Also it smelled of sweat because of the second reason: the army.

From the gate to the city, thousands of men and women in arms stood at attention, in perfect silence, their eyes set on the witch with curiosity and excitement in equal measure. Curiosity from the newcomers. Excitement from the veterans who knew that since Viv was back, things were about to become ‘interesting’ again.

Lady Azar was there in front of Viv along with most of the military staff. She recognized the three most important figures. Ban, who led the heavies and had been at her side since before there were heavies. Poacher whose real name Viv still hadn’t learned and who led the witchpact crossbow folks. The last one was Rollo, the leader of the handful of knights here in Harrak. Or at least this used to be the case. Now, there were almost thirty of them on their horses, wearing embroidered and colorful tabards over their dark iron armor. They looked quite imposing.

Lady Azar looked very proud as she signaled a group of musicians. It was all very pompous and official until Arthur crossed the portal and spread her wings wide. Being all new to Kazar, the musicians faltered. She was now very, very clearly a dragon.

Oh is this all for me?

Thank you, my minions!

“Arthur!” voices came from the middle of the formation before a NCO could make them shut up. In answer, the dragon took to the sky and flew over the tight ranks at high speed, roaring and doing aerial acrobatics. The soldiers answered with cheers and whoops that spread like a wildfire. Heavies drummed the earth with the butt of their spears with a deafening rumble while the marksmen let out their strange ululating cries. Azar shook her head and laughed when the musicians recovered enough for a belated blow of horns. Viv walked to her with a smile.

“She’s stealing the show.”

“I have tried to instill your people with a sense of decorum but I suppose there is no accounting for dragons,” the Baranese countess admitted.

Mother.

Your underlings finally accepted me as their rightful leader.

There is hope for the species yet.

“Don’t let power get to your head,” Viv said, but Arthur was off again parading all over the place. That gave Viv an opportunity to let everyone get acquainted. The meeting was brief, everyone knowing there would be a troop review and that it would take time. Strangely, Lana and the mages were quite curious. Viv prompted her about it as they walked on.

“Many northern cities allow women to walk the path of warriors but I had never seen such a vast number before. It appears you told the truth.”

The first group to be reviewed was the knights, as was tradition. It was Rollo who introduced them. Their visors were open but the knights stubbornly looked front as if nothing could faze them.

“You know of my… proclivities,” Rollo finally whispered in a low voice.

“You know I dated a woman, right? I don’t care that you are gay.”

“I have spread the word among my friends that Harrak would respect us and our choices, that you would not force us to live lies so long as we served the crown faithfully.”

He stopped as if to test Viv.

“Yes?”

“I hope you will not prove me wrong.”

“I said what I said,” Viv replied, finally realizing why her gaydar was blaring at her. She had the most homoerotic knight group in all of Param. Perhaps even in the world!

“Just hire straight people as well please.”

“Naturally. Javis here hopes you can heal his wife and daughter. They were blinded by a political rival.”

“I’ll regrow everyone’s everything once we have settled. No worries.”

Rollo seemed satisfied and the inspection continued. Arthur joined them when her curiosity overrode her pride. She didn’t ask the knights if the armor was hermetically sealed for optimal flavoring which Viv took as progress. The next group on the list was the heavies. They had grown remarkably in numbers since she last was here. They had also been split in several companies, each one led by an officer. Ban introduced them as they passed by.

“Those are the Hightree Company. They are mostly new arrivals and veterans from other militaries. A good group. Solid and reactive if less unified than the others.”

Viv observed that those heavies had swords, short spears, and maces, not just the usual full steel pilum she was used to. They were the most diverse group as well in terms of age, gender, and ethnicity, basically a representation of the entire continent. Viv recognized many of the veterans she had healed, and they’d kept the weapons they were more familiar with. All of them bore the tree of Kazar as their emblem.

“... because that’s the first thing a refugee sees when they arrive. Next we have the Mountain Sons. You know where they’re from.”

Mountain people bearing red scarves waited at attention. Viv recognized many of them from the first battles against the Enorians. They had filled up now that food was abundant. They were also the second most homogeneous group.

“Next we have the Children of the Scale, who will have latrine duty for the next month for breaking decorum.”

Oh! Oh! Oh! My servants!

Arthur waddled among the ranks while the soldiers beamed. They bore insignias in the form of a white dragon and Viv realized she recognized many of them. They were graduates from the Arthur fanclub.

“Youngest company, that’s why they wear mail instead of full plate. They do not have the physical stats to operate normal gear yet but I thought it would be good to train them to Harrakan standards anyway. Some girls have joined. I didn’t stop them so long as they could pass the physical contest.”

“It was a good idea.”

They stayed until Viv convinced Arthur to stop inspecting ‘her’ soldiers. When she walked on two legs, she towered over even the tallest soldier. It was very strange.

“And now we have the One Hundred. Best of the lot. Toughest fuckers this side of the ocean,” Ban said with pride. “I have recruited them from the best and drilled them mercilessly. We take monthly runs in the deadlands with a life orb, trigger it, then fight off the revenant tide for three days.”

“Wow.”

Armored to the teeth in runic armor with plates, grim, unmoving, the One Hundred were an intimidating force to behold. Their pennants and tabards were white and unadorned. Viv inspected one at random.

[Harrakan Imperial Guard. Third step.]

Yeah, Viv had to get crowned. It would be a shame not to. Napoleon had done it before so it would be fine, right? She just had to watch out for the pitfalls of hubris. That would be easy. Just watch Arthur and stop before becoming like her.

Viv’s satisfied inner gloating stopped when she came across a surprising sight. Among the One Hundred, there was one, exactly one, woman. Viv blinked. Ban leaned to whisper in her ear.

“We call this one Brick,” he began.

“You can speak normally. I used a sound barrier.”

“Ah, thank you. We call this one Brick because she is as dumb as one. She forgot her name.”

“What?”

“I am serious. We are not sure where she comes from but I highly suspect she took the acceptance test by accident. I also suspect she didn’t realize she could give up.”

“Huh. Solfis knows several exercises that help with mental stats, especially when they are very low.”

“We tried that. Now, she can complete tasks in the most imbecilic way possible with unerring accuracy. She will not forget any of the steps. She just won’t do them in a way that makes sense.”

“Okay.”

“But she does well in the shield wall. So.”

He shrugged. So did Viv.

“As long as she conforms to your standards. Shall we move on?”

“Yes,” Ban said with pursed lips. “Poacher will tell you about her own… troops.”

“Poacher?” Viv asked.

She turned to the gray-haired lady. Poacher might have a better suit of gambeson now but she still had gaunt features and the dodgy air of someone who had never worked a legal job in their entire life.

“Your name is really Poacher?”

“T’wasn’t until you started calling me that.”

“You didn’t have a name?”

“Nah.”

“But… how did people call you?”

“‘Hey, you!’ Or ‘Damn muddling’ or ‘that bitch over there’.”

“I… see?”

“Let’s go see my louts.”

The next section of the army gave almost an opposite feel. While the heavies stood in tight formations, the marksmen lounged, leaned, and just hung around in loose squads. They also wore face paintings, mostly in the shape of human skulls though they were also bears and other creatures. It reminded Viv of the Dia de los Muertos.

“Koro’s idea. It’s a southern tradition to wear the skull or painting in the shape of the strongest prey you have killed. It promotes competition.”

The marksmen wore darker clothing and gambeson with bits of mail added in. The bling came from their Yries-made crossbows, each one unique and fine-tuned to their owners. Many of them also brought close quarter weapons and Viv spotted a few shields, targes worn on the back.

“Those lots are the Sisters of the Eye. The first company.”

Viv recognized many of the women from the battle with Lancer. The sisters were the only entirely female contingent here and also the most defiant one. They looked a little cocky, Viv thought, though that might just be because they were next to the One Hundred.

“Most of our best marksmen are here. They’re also good at hunting.”

“And causing trouble,” Ban grumbled. “Half of the disciplinary issues come from this lot.”

“You’re just a sour old man,” Poacher retorted.

“Hey hey, no open conflict in front of our people,” Viv said, and they both simmered down.

“You got them to stop bickering? Tell me your secret,” Lady Azar added with a wry voice.

“Moving on,” Poacher interrupted. “Here are the Fingers.”

Viv recognized many of the scouts from the old Kazar days, including their leader who had married a Hadal woman. They were a mixed group. Most of them had bows instead of crossbows. Viv recognized a few Enorian siege bows as well. Kazar’s original scouts and the veteran marksmen were here.

“The Hadals who joined the army joined this group. They are not here today. They hate standing at attention.”

“Understandable.”

“And next we have the Bitter Hearts.”

The last group was… a surprise. Contrary to what their names implied, their numbers consisted of older people, mostly women who lacked the hard edge of the other soldiers. They were more subdued as well. Most avoided looking at her.

“Those are widows and widowers who have lost everything. Or people who have abandoned their paths for one reason or another. Not our best. They are… the glue that keeps us together. They mend, they teach, they listen.”

“They are also the last company to leave any battlefield, not until they’ve found everyone. We’ve lost a few of them to revenants because of that,” Ban said with grudging respect.

“They train hard,” Poacher continued.

Ban nodded in agreement.

“Good people. Reliable.”

Viv ignored Lady Azar’s delighted surprise. The Bitter Hearts were in good shape and clearly more disciplined than their wilder counterparts. She remembered that wars were won through disciplined troops, not just super soldiers.

The next contingents were different. There were temple guards, though they were few in numbers with most of the group stationed in Kazar. City guards stood at attention as well. Those were police, technically, and their skills reflected that. They would still man the wall in case of a major battle. The last group was the one that filled Viv with pleasure.

Yries.

And tanks.

Well, technically they were portable shield arrays on metal frames. There were also the more classical takes with catapults and ballistae. The Yries manning them wore armor and their signature crossbows. They also wore war paints on their strange, owl-like features, something she had never seen before. Viv greeted them with a smile and promised to spend more time making sure everything was working as she intended. It was the last group as well. Beyond them waited the path up to Sinur’s Gate.

“We call them the Shrill,” Ban said. “They love testing new things to throw at people. Fire wasps. Poison jars. Stones. Strange gas. Fucking fire ants. They always try the weirdest things.”

Viv’s only concern was that they followed her orders without objections. The Yries were quite strange. By nature a peaceful people, they had no limits once tickled enough. A bit like the Canadians.

All in all, it looked like the army had developed into an array of competing groups bickering and squabbing for resources, each more prideful than the other, each pushing the others to greater heights. Except the Bitter Hearts who were just mothering everyone. It was just perfect. Viv forfeited a speech this time. There would be opportunities later.

There were more people on the path up, civilians this time. Less than in Kazar yet the inhabitants of the surrounding fortified villages had come in droves. Viv noticed that there were a lot of maimed people present. Many seemed hopeful.

“I decided to move them all here for your convenience. That way, you may rule and regrow their limbs at your convenience. I have notified the Hadal hunters that monster meat would be required.”

“Excellent.”

Once again, Viv resorted to baby holding and hand clasping to get to know the people of Sinur’s Gate. Many of them were new arrivals, mostly craftsmen who benefitted from being close to each other. She passed the double gates to find the city transformed. Colors had returned to this vertical place. Vines and blue roses clung to the towers, falling from its many bridges in bright curtains. Stalls sold food and trinkets while smiths worked their forge, their duties suffering no interruptions. There was still plenty of room so the city was not as cramped as it might have once felt. Blue enchantments kept the water flowing in the many small fountains.

“We have not yet cleared the sewers. All the entrances have been shut, I have been unwilling to send your men in without mage support,” Lady Azar said.

“Probably for the best,” Viv agreed.

Her online friend Gevaudan was always complaining about sewer monsters. At least, the place should still be relatively odorless since they had not been used in three hundred years. There was hope yet.

The group made their way to the palace, having picked up a tail of soldiers and civilians with their many petitions. The main entrance had been cleared and Viv was delighted to find that the inner courtyard now hid a fragrant garden. The throne room with its overhead dome still felt a little cold and impersonal even though the resident Lich’s belongings had long since been cleared.

“We have prepared your room upstairs if you want to rest,” Lady Azar said.

“No, I will hold court since I am back. We have the entire day for that.”

“Very well. Many of the topics should be inconsequential. Many of the newcomers will want your confirmation that their relatives can be healed. There are also a few more important matters including, and I am sorry to say so, a meeting request from the Manipeleso bank and exchange.”

“The bank?” Viv asked. “What could they want?”

The bank?

Viv winced. She’d hoped Arthur might have forgotten.

Chapter 149: Economy of Scale

Radiant light filtered through the dome skylight. Aides had assembled long benches for the expected spectators. Viv had been offered a chair, thought it was too small and turned part of the dais into an eldritch horror of scales, tentacles and spikes blooming from a center in which she sat.

She promptly stood up again and demanded a pillow, which was offered. Lady Azar stood by her side.

“Would you not prefer to sit?” Viv asked.

“Traditionally, an advisor stands by the side of a ruler’s throne. If you do not mind, however, then yes I would use the chair we prepared for you. Just make the throne a little higher so you dominate the room even while sitting.”

“Sure thing.”

Soon, Viv was ready. The One Hundred had a squad on hold as her personal guard though they were probably not even trained for it. It probably wouldn’t matter much. They were meant to stand around looking menacing and that was a task they excelled at. And besides, Solfis was here. He was worth a thousand men.

“Right. We’re ready. Open the gates.”

Hesitantly at first, citizens trailed in, some sitting in the benches after curtsying, others forming a line under the direction of a master of ceremony, actually one of Kazar’s original clerks. It took less than a minute for a queue to form though. Just as ordered, the first were bankers.

Tom Manitaradin had been one of the first people Viv had met in Kazar. The impeccably dressed and styled man stood aloof, his assistant standing by his side holding a package. Viv gestured and he came up, bowing smoothly.

“Greetings, Your Grace. Welcome back to Sinur’s Gate. As a representative of the Manipeleso Bank and Exchange, I would like to extend an invitation to discuss deeper matters of cooperation. However, I fear a public setting might not be the best place to do so. Would you consider joining me some time this week?”

“It is a matter of some urgency,” Lady Azar whispered in Viv’s ear. “It relates to private loans given to our citizens and, to some extent, the throne.”

“Wait, we’re indebted?” Viv asked.

“Of course we are. I leveraged our finance to start several projects, including new ironworks and the renovation of the city. We’ll get our money back within a year. And this is not the time.”

“Right.”

Viv turned back to the banker who was still waiting with a winning smile, a smile that felt more predatorial the longer Viv looked.

“Of course. Would tomorrow morning work?”

“Fantastic. We will come here, unless you would prefer to visit our branch?”

“Here is fine.”

“Then we will reconvene at that time. In the meanwhile, please accept this Northern garment made for you as a gesture of our appreciation.”

Tom bowed smartly and left, his sashaying assistant following closely behind. Viv checked the gift. It was a nice, close-fitting dress in black and white with golden filigree. Very nice, though she would let Solfis have a look at it before wearing it, of course.

“It’s pretty good.”

“Oh, they can afford it,” Lady Azar grumbled. “Although you keep a better relationship with them than most rulers I have ever met.”

“Yeah we’ll see how long that lasts. Next?”

The following petitioner was a farmer who begged for help finding his son, who’d never returned from a trip to the mountains. Irao surprised everybody by basically popping into existence and offering his services, which satisfied everybody. Then the parade began.

The first to appear was an old man, rarities on a continent where war and monsters could always be counted on. He was, in fact, positively ancient. Those who reached that age usually had stats to back it up but he felt terribly weak to Viv’s mana perception. She frowned, then frowned even more when Azar facepalmed. Viv signaled for him to come forth and he did so, bowing stiffly until his mop of white hair almost touched the carpet. Snickers erupted in the assembly.

“Your Graceship, I come to you because old Gogen she told me, she told me I couldn’t get into the kitchen and I said, I said, why your son can and he ain’t even a cook! He ain’t I know he because he’s a forrester down south near the the edge so I said to her—”

Viv listened to the man rant without much structure for another minute during which the room grew gradually more amused. By the time the old man stopped to catch his breath after a particularly inflamed tirade on the character of local dogs, there were jeers and mutters everywhere. Finally, an opening for her to exploit.

“Silence.”

Viv decided to use leadership rather than intimidation this time and to make sure people got the message, she cast a colorless quiet on the entire assembly. There were no casters around so no one resisted. Citizens turned from hilarity to fear in an instant. She moved forward on her throne and pulled her wings out, finding she was more comfortable that way.

The display of power and alienness served their purpose. In the ensuing calm, she leaned towards Azar who was now the very picture of controlled fury.

“What the fuck was that.”

“Crocus the senile. I specifically told the entrance guards not to let him through. When this is over, I will hang them from the ramparts by their feet.”

“You can do that in your free time. For now I’d like to salvage my first official reception.”

Viv returned her attention to Crocus who was waiting, a vacant expression painted on his face. He was drooling a little bit.

“Right. This appears to have been a rather eventful morning for Crocus. Let a guard accompany him to the refectory so he can drink something hot, yes? Now.”

The next person moved up in an atmosphere like a classroom after the usually gentle teacher had a screaming bout. He was a merchant offering scented candles, an expensive rarity since it required wax. Viv thanked him and sent him to her bioweapon division since they liked wasps and might be convinced to work on a less lethal, honey-making variant. The person after that was dressed in a long tatty mage robe with stars sewn on it, along with a hat that had seen better days. The hat had a large moon symbol on it, the magical glyph though it was incomplete. She feared another disaster and inspected him quickly.

[Researcher: one who follows a path dedicated to the understanding of magical and natural laws.]

“Your Grace, I beseech your help and patronage in one of the grandest endeavors of scientific discovery of this era, nay, of all eras, a tremendous work that will revolutionize the way we see the world! A ruler such as yourself—”

“The short version, please.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Forgive the theatrics and my excitement. My purpose is to prove… that Nyil… is a sphere.”

“A sphere? The planet Nyil is a sphere?” Viv asked just to confirm.

“Yes! Yes, a sphere. Not a flat surface as some have argued.”

“One moment please.”

Viv leaned towards Lady Azar.

“What’s the consensus on this issue?”

“It has been a matter of some debate among researchers, a question made more complicated by the, ah, lack of funding and ‘qualified’ personnel dedicated to such endeavors. Most centers of learning are more interested in how to stop the next monster invasion and how to cast better spells.”

“I see. You there, how do you intend to proceed?”

“By climbing the tallest mountain and taking precise measurements using a magical box I have, ahem, yet to develop, to demonstrate a curvature of the horizon over the Endless Sea.”

“Right. Hmm.”

Viv searched her memories. Was it… Eratosthenes who’d done it? Yeah. What was it again?

“Right, errr, have you considered, hmmm, measuring the distance between two cities on the same meridian, that is the north south axis, then planting two perfectly vertical straight rods in the ground at noon on a summer solstice and measuring the respective angles made by the shadows, thus—”

“Your Grace. You are assuming that the light of the sun comes to us as parallel rays.”

He shook his head.

“But it cannot be so, for it would imply that the sun is extremely far while we know that it cannot be so, this celestial body moving so much in the day and night cycle. Your Grace, you are clearly a person of great intellect but you should probably focus on magic and let me handle the science.”

Someone coughed in their sleeves.

Solfis would never let her live that down.

“Right. We may consider helping you in your endeavor if you make yourself useful for our cause. I believe we have need of archivists?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the ‘mistress’ of ceremony replied. “Urgently so.”

“You may obtain our support if you work for us. You will also be compensated, which will allow you to fund the expedition and research yourself.”

“But… science suffers no delay,” the scientist replied, dejected.

“It can most definitely suffer delays and difficulties,” Viv replied drily. “Help us and receive help, or do not. The choice is yours. Next?”

The next three persons were fairly uneventful. One was a knight who offered his services, requesting land in return which Viv was only too happy to agree to. A local mayor requested assistance with his mana-conversion stone, something Rakan could have handled but the man had apparently not been aware of it. A smith requested more ores for his brand new smelter.

“We will have to reopen our side of the mines. We have delayed long enough as it is.”

Lady Azar nodded in support. Her expression soured when she saw the next visitor. It was a child. A girl, to be precise. hunched forward, eyes filled with scorn and teeth bared. She was also missing two fingers or her left hand. Practically feral. Viv had barely made a gesture when she spoke in a heavily accented Enorian drawl.

“Ya know what I want. Give me my damn collar back!”

Her vitriol was not aimed at Viv, at least not entirely, but to Lady Azar. The countess leaned towards Viv with obvious annoyance.

“I have forbidden children from participating in those awful beastling hunts. It was getting absolutely unacceptable.”

“The baldies can still do it, so why can’t I? Huh? At least give me back my stuff. You got not right to keep it.”

“Why did you stop it?” Viv asked in a low voice. “Were there deaths?”

“That girl lost her fingers because it was gnawed off by a beastling and still, she wants to get back to the fray? There were no deaths but there have been many wounded. The Hadal’s definition of ‘safe’ needs to be reconsidered! And do you know that they’ve burnt beastlings alive? And tortured them? Children have no limits. They must not be exposed to this level of savagery at a young age or they may bear the marks of those conflicts for their entire lives.”

“The Hadals keep doing it! How is that fair?”

“Right,” Viv thought. “Hm. Perhaps beastling hunts should be codified rather than entirely banned. I’ll set a lower age limit and forbid the most heinous war crimes, including torture. No hazing either. Those who don’t want to participate will not have to.”

“That’s always been like that! Raiders and builders and gatherers so we have grilled acorn pancakes! Until that harri—”

Viv silenced the girl with a gesture and before she could fully insult her prime minister to her face. Although that was a French tradition, Nyil took a dimmer view on such things.

“And what is it I hear about a pendant?”

“Young Trill here gathered one made of pierced beastling canines, a grisly trophy I confiscated as it had no place in a civilized nation.”

Viv had a quick glance at the bone abomination made by a civilized nation in order to off political rebels on the other side of a battlefield.

“I will have to side with Trill here for two reasons. First, we have no laws against morbid prizes. If we did that would mean confiscating Solfis’ collection.”

//Extremely inadvisable.

“And second, we will have no ‘ex post facto’ laws here thank you very much. You can’t retroactively punish someone for hunting beastlings when it was not illegal to do so. Where is the necklace now?”

Viv assumed it was destroyed but Lady Azar pushed out an answer between gritted teeth.

“I gave it to the Temple for purification. They might have kept it.”

“I’ll ask! Thanks,” Trill said, and she was off.

During a short recess, Azar asked for a moment of privacy.

“I just want to make sure we are on the same page. Is there a problem between us? Reversing my decisions weakens my position here,” she said.

“There is no issue between us. I am applying Harrakan law in a rather… tolerant manner that may reflect my own culture. Rather, working as a kind ruler, strict ruler pair might help in the long run. We merely have to get more used to each other’s working methods.”

Lady Azar nodded. Viv decided it was time to butter the old harpy up a little.

“Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done so far, enormously. I am still not sure why you are lending us your talents, I just appreciate that Harrak would not be the same place if you’d not held the fort while I turned part elemental.”

“And I appreciate you listening to most advice with attention,” the old countess replied.

She sighed, suddenly looking more approachable. More human rather than just the immaculate noble.

“You were not my first choice, if I have to be honest. I tried advising my daughter and then a young up and coming duke fighting to reclaim his family’s past glory. They fought me at every step, curtailed what I could do until I felt that I was a dangerous rival to be hampered rather than a hand extended in friendship. I am still unsure as to why you, an outlander, tolerate me so much without constantly doubting my motives.”

“I’m pretty sure you just love building a kingdom.”

“Yes! Exactly! Is there a nobler accomplishment in this world? A more difficult one? I think not, and yet I will manage it not once but twice, Enttiku willing. So you do understand. Was that why you never doubted me?”

“I do not doubt you because I know that if you have to choose between us and your daughter sitting on the throne of Baran, you won’t pick us. In the meanwhile, you’re possibly the best advisor on the continent so I’ll just count my blessings. And as to why I’m not afraid… Black mana elemental Archmage? Between Arthur, Solfis and I, we have enough raw power to fend off pretty much any power grab anyone could attempt.”

“No one will make a power grab,” Lady Azar said with absolute confidence. “No one can compete. It might come as a surprise to you so I will remind you of the obvious. Citizens find that being led by a proven spell-casting war leader with a dragon child and the loyalty of an ancient war machine is, in fact, rather ‘cool’. Much more so than some inbred idiot whose sole merit was being born into the right family. I would be much more concerned about foreign attacks if I were you.”

“I’m working on it,” Viv grumbled.

Trill didn’t return. The next supplicant asked for help after his field was ravaged during a battle between heavies and a large undead bear they had to put down. A brief discussion with Lady Azar confirmed that the state didn’t act as an insurance in case of an accident so Viv sent the man away, even reminding him that the bear would have done more than tear a field apart. She couldn’t afford to just say yes to everybody.

The next woman came to the stand munching on what looked like a juicy apple.

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

“Do not talk to me with your mouth full.”

“Oh sorry, the wait just made me hungry, haha.”

Her mouth was still full.

Viv eyed the nearest window. Solfis dutifully stood up to open it.

“Wait wait wait sorry, Your Grace, I came to offer the results of my labour, those pila fruits. If you like them, I simply request assistance in setting a well near the orchard I intend to develop. Please.”

“We need more water to feed all the new farms,” Azar explained. “There simply isn’t enough rain yet to let things grow. We have been digging wells left and right. It has not been enough. Many of the villages need regular supplies of water.”

“It looks like I have Lana’s first job.”

“A mage of her caliber might resent being tasked with such mundane work.”

“You mean like me building obelisks left and right?”

Azar nodded.

“I will remind her that you lead by example.”

More people followed after that but none as exciting. The visitors were either demanding compensation, advertising products or simply being sycophants. Others came to swear allegiance to her, mostly because their paths demanded it. Courtiers and knights both, they were an interesting mix of the desperate, the ambitious, and the stupid. One of the warriors offering his service was dying from an improperly healed heart that would need to be regrown and that was going to require finesse. Another was a courtier escaping forced marriage. Viv welcomed them all anyway. The only real surprise to Viv was the lack of request for judgment, except for Trill’s interruption. She prompted Azar on that topic.

“I would like to remind you that Neriad is your Patron God and truce is within his purview. I have delegated the… judiciary work to them. Since they don’t pay taxes, they might as well make themselves useful.”

“They know the laws of Harrak?”

“Neriad’s churches always work with local law. The god of righteous battle tolerates differences in laws and customs, after all.”

“Got it.”

The flow of people only weakened as the sun came down. For a population of less than ten thousand souls, Harrak certainly had a lot of people come to visit, though Viv supposed there was a backlog. Nevertheless, the experience had made her more popular and given her the opportunity to put a finger on Harrak’s pulse. The ‘empire’ reminded her of her own country after the revolution, a place where the social structure was yet to become rigid and where the competent could carve themselves a path to success. A night council gave her the opportunity to give some orders, especially to the mages who had just settled in the various towers across the city. She wondered if there was a natural affinity between mages and towers.

Abe wanted to work as a judge during the day, undead hunter the rest of the time and that was fine by Viv. The ladies were also open to building wells, fortifications, and helping reopen the mine. Weirdly, they thought doing so for people was more exciting than doing so for guilds. Viv hoped the novelty wouldn’t wear off too fast. Once those orders were given, however, came the problem of budget allocation.

Saying mines should open was all well and good. Dispatching the mages was relatively cheap, just as encouraging people with mining skills to go there. Unfortunately, she still needed to hire an overseer, people to maintain barracks. The mine would need tools and supply trains to carry the ore to smelters. Fortunately, the treasury was doing well right now.

“We expect a massive payout in fall, after the harvest. Plenty of new products such as mushrooms will be sent to the markets in Enoria and beyond, and we expect a large payout thanks to high black mana levels that make the goods both nourishing and resistant to corruption. Your portals have made a world of difference. Unfortunately, it is spring now. We have half a year before we reap those benefits and I still have to pay hundreds of soldiers, the staff, and possibly fund more urgent work. I borrowed from the bank at a competitive rate to make sure we would have enough coin to face all the spendings with some leeway. As soon as the harvest is completed, we will be doing quite well.”

“Yes we have quite the bloated military. How is that holding up?”

“They have some frankly incredibly low pay considering their quality. We are doing fine because they have full rights to what they find in the deadlands, and also because the Yries provide most of our supplies against regular food deliveries. The crux of the matter is that we are growing fast but we need to watch out not to develop too fast and invest too much or we will go bankrupt. Hence the importance of tomorrow’s meeting.”

Viv considered the question. Lady Azar didn’t know it but Viv was rich. Really rich. Between the limb regrowth pay, the cores she found in Elunath’s mansion and what she’d accrued before, her fortune was over a thousand and a half gold talents. That was absolutely massive, and the Manipeleso bank held most of it in reserve. By contrast, the crown owed six hundred gold talents to be repaid over two years while Harrak as a whole owed close to five thousand.

There was something to explore there.

Viv ended the council quite late. This had been a busy day. There would be more like that before things settled.

Viv found herself missing her practice with Abe. Magic was now an integral part of her life. By comparison, ruling felt more like a means to an end. It was interesting and necessary. It just felt more like a job. She just hoped things wouldn’t get too interesting too fast.

She sighed, looking out of the window of her new palace.

“Fuck it.”

Viv flew to the farmer’s field, the one she had denied during the day. She turned the corpse of the large undead bear to ash, repaired the collapsed walls using the change meaning then draining the black mana out. Once she was done, most of the damage was cleaned up. There was only a demolished shed left to rebuild. She headed back feeling much better.

That night, Viv invited Sidjin to her brand new bedroom for some relaxing fun together. She had the bankers accompany her the next morning over breakfast, which was provided by Gogen the cleaner and her army of cooks, maids, servants, and warehousemen. Somehow, the old woman had put herself in charge of everything and no one had bothered to stop her. That was fine by Viv.

“This dress really suits you,” Tom said with pleasure as he sat at the breakfast table.

His assistant did the same, then a servant came with plates of wraps, fresh bread, fruit, and monster meat in cold cuts. Viv helped herself to a cup of kava then sat back. Tom was right. The northern dress fit her like a glove now that she was mostly back to normal, the shoulder paddings giving her a regal profile.

It was Viv, Tom, his assistant Lan and Lady Azar in the small room midway up the tower. The sun shone on green fields rife with opportunity. From the window, they could not see what was left of the deadlands so the vista was only hope and profit, not the daunting prospect of decades of relentless effort.

Tom started with small talk and Viv obliged. She was in no hurry to get to the heart of the matter on an empty stomach. Tom’s delay soon proved to be a tactic, however. The opening salvo of the business discussion proved immediately deadly.

“Lady Viv. Your Grace. I would like to inform you that as of now, Harrak and its citizens are indebted to the Manipeleso Bank and Exchange for an amount of two thousand five hundred and sixty gold talents.”

Viv froze with a fruit halfway between her lips. She put it down back onto her plate.

“I’m sorry?”

“This includes private citizens and quite a few new ventures ranging from tanners and ore smelters to tailors and even a luthier. Nevertheless, our exposure has reached a critical level and my administration wishes to make sure the funds are well allocated. And that the projects of private individuals bear fruit. As such, we would like to make a few mutually beneficial arrangements. Please take your time to consider them… carefully,” he said with a soft voice.

Lan produced a nice, white paper with a short list on it. Viv knew what was going on even though Tom refrained from using any social skill on her. A written proposal was always more impersonal than a voiced one, thus making offensive content slightly less likely to cause the offended party to blow up in one’s face. Viv went down the list.

The bank wanted to put Harrak under tutelage.

Oh, they voiced it nicely but that was it. Tom would be named finance minister along with a list of executive powers including the ability to veto budgets. There were a list of other measures including production restrictions on illegal goods, something that she didn’t intend to do anyway. The Manipeleso bank would also retain a monopoly over Harrak to ‘make sure the citizens do not get into too much debt by double dipping’. It was as ballsy as it was vile. From the way Tom’s aura pulsed, she could tell he was terrified though calming by the minute since Viv had not killed him yet. And she wouldn’t.

When a duke defaulted on another bank, the bank risked a collapse. When a duke defaulted on the Manipeleso bank, those fuckers sent hit squads. That was why they’d endured for so long on a continent ravaged by wars and monster tides. Viv had no doubt she could survive most assassination attempts. Her people, however, could not, and that was before mentioning sabotage. She had much to lose and nothing to gain by opposing them directly. On the other hand, they could not be allowed all the conditions or they would simply push Harrak so long as it was profitable, all while milking them for every iron bit they could reasonably squeeze. Viv would never allow it.

“Failing that, I fear that I am no longer allowed to extend new loans. You understand, I am sure.”

Viv understood that investments would stop. Refugees would find themselves without the resources granted to those that came before. Many new projects would need an extension, or some more cash, and they would not find it.

Unless, of course, it came from Viv’s pocket.

Branches didn’t have a unified accounting system because there was nothing like the internet here on Nyil. For most branches, it didn’t matter since transactions mostly took place between members of the same country. Or the same guild. Viv had traveled a lot and she had become fabulously rich… on the other side of the continent. Tom might simply have underestimated how much money she had saved. Or he believed that she could last one season but no more.

It was quite likely that he expected her to negotiate the political cost down, hence why the initial offering was on the outrageous side of things. He would concede several points, calming her anger while still getting what he wanted.

There was one way to deal with the situation that didn’t involve becoming adversarial: delay, counter, change the situation. After all, the bank had been quite useful so far and she was more than happy to poach Tom’s skills for her own cause.

“This is a very serious decision. I would like some time for thoughts before I come to a decision.”

“We understand, of course.”

The bankers stood, dismissed.

“Oh, one last thing,” Viv asked. “I’d like a withdrawal. All I have except for a hundred talents. That’s the limit for the VIP account, yes?”

“Why yes,” Tom replied with pinched lips. “Just be aware that it might take some time if the amount goes beyond two hundred gold talents. I will be contacting Helock then?”

Viv was pretty sure, from Tom’s face, that it was an expensive endeavor.

“Yes, please.”

“Very well then. Goodbye.”

Viv spent the rest of the morning visiting Solar, whose son was all small and chubby. The blade master seemed relaxed and happy now that he has less responsibilities and Viv noticed he was carving toy swords of increasing length so he would have something to play with.

“I have not forgotten the blade, mind you, and I still take students among your most dedicated soldiers. You will find quite a few experts among the Hightree company. I merely wish to take a more contemplative approach to what it means to cut, now that I am back at the summit of my skill.”

“And still modest,” Viv smiled.

“Throw a spell at me,” Solar said with a smile as he stood away from the wall where they rested, his cup of klod left there.

“You sure?”

“Nothing too bad. A push spell perhaps?”

“Sure.”

Viv weaved a colorless kinetic spell that would send Solar sprawling ass first into a nearby ditch. She hurled it at his chest.

The blademaster lifted his hand, palm open, then made a cutting motion. It was a simple gesture, smooth and slow. His entire body followed as if moving a great weight.

Viv’s spell burst apart. She felt the strands break, cleanly sliced by something incredibly sharp.

“Oh wow.”

“Yes. I am on the verge of understanding, and I partly owe it to you. Thank you for not pushing us away. And for not pressuring us into service all the time.”

“We have quite a few people who come here hoping to live a normal life.”

“Like the Hadals,” Solar agreed. “I spar with Irao on occasion. A good man, if a little strange. The last time we met, we fought without exchanging a word for an afternoon straight. He left me a lake fish afterward. We had soup. It was nice.”

“A lake?”

“In the forest, I would presume.”

Viv left shortly after that. When she returned to the city, the bank had left her over three hundred talents in gold as well as a request for a delay while they gathered more metal from nearby branches. Viv snickered at the thought. She grabbed the chest and walked out of Sinur’s Gate, making her way down the path and greeting citizens on the way. She stopped around halfway, where a small fort had been turned into a guard station. Next to them, what used to be sheer rock now showed the opening of a grotto, the entrance like a gaping maw in the surface of the cliff. Trill stood around with a cudgel hanging from the hip.

“No entry till the boss lady says you cawawawawawawa—”

Viv dragged the tiny guard by the ear until they were eye to emerald star in an endless void.

“I appreciate bluffing as well as any politician but I do believe you’re pushing it. Why are you not training to be a witchpact?”

“Poacher says I’m too small!”

“Hmm. I’ll ask for a derogation if only so that you stop aggravating everybody. A word of advice, attitude can only carry you so far.”

Viv left the pipsqueak behind. A main cavern extended in front of her with a passage to the left. Enchanted light bathed the place in a reddish glow. She followed the path to a smaller room. It was split in half by a large stone desk. In front of that desk sat a middle-aged couple showing hope and terror in equal measure, and behind that desk, was Arthur.

Mother!

I was finishing my agreement with mister and missus Telus.

Their business plan is sound and the plot they have selected appears suitable.

All that is left to do is to sign the contract.

I was explaining the finer details of loan repayment.

“The northern bank. They refused me plan,” the man explained fearfully while his wife huddled against him.

“The dragon lady said she’d help us. We’ll work hard, we promise!” she said.

Yes.

Sign here if you are ready.

Arthur pulled the stopper off an ink bottle. A black bubble levitated over a piece of parchment, then, with careful gestures, Arthur directed it to form letters until a contract was drawn. She repeated the terms and Viv saw that the contract was exactly as advertised. The dragoness believed in the importance of reputation.

“Do… do I sign with my blood?”

Arthur’s tail whipped left and right. Viv could tell she was annoyed.

No.

You sign with the ink and feather I have provided.

If you cannot write, a print of your thumb will do.

“Alright!”

The man pressed a calloused finger to the paper, sealing the deal. They left with a small pouch of gold provided by Arthur. Once they were gone, the appearance of confidence disappeared from the dragon and she bounced around the cavern.

My first loan!

It worked!

Now the humans will toil and give me gold every year, more gold than I gave them…

And I do not have to lift a wing!

I checked everything, even the market price of the tubers they plan on growing for the past five years.

And if there is a flood or a draught, I will help them with my magic.

It will work, yes?

“I hope so. By the way, I believe a few changes to your den might be appropriate.”

Too intimidating?

“No, not grandiose enough. Where are the pillars? Where is the name of the bank written over the entrance in bold letters? You need to see things bigger.”

Yesssssss.

I will do as you say, mother.

Let the humans know I am in business.

“Speaking of, the Manipeleso is trying to strong arm me into giving them unfair terms.”

Mother warned me against monopolistic practices done by someone else.

“Yes. They are relying on two things. First, that we do not have enough gold to avoid defaulting without them, and second, that no one would have the courage to undermine them once they have clearly stated their claim. After all, they do have assassins.”

Arthur stood on her hind legs. Her wings opened, two white standards on a field of black stone. The temperature inside the cave increased while a low rumble shook the very walls. Viv saw mana and matter bend around the young dragon in waves, ready to obey her command.

They can try.

“Yes, my point exactly. I believe the time has come to shake that monopoly a little. I need better terms. Now, I know you are good at this and we are both taking a risk but I have faith in you, and I believe this is a risk worth taking. So…”

Viv placed her chest on the desk. It opened, revealing a familiar shine that reflected in Arthur’s crimson iris.

“I’d like to make a deposit.”

By the time Viv left, the simple entrance had turned into a marvel of Cthonian design proudly advertising the Golden Scale Bank, and people had lined up for new job openings.

The next morning, Tom came to visit again. He was much more direct than the day before.

“Well, congratulations. I’ve never seen the Elders backtrack so fast on any project. We will have a new offer ready by tomorrow, so bear with us in the meantime. Of course, we would still want some concessions before we keep taking risks, however I believe you will find the terms much more generous.”

“I hope you are not too disappointed, Tom. I would still love to employ your services as an advisor.”

“And I believe I will gratefully accept. I expected you would hold a grudge, to be honest.”

“I can hardly blame a member of a family for showing loyalty to that family. That plan was the Elders’?”

“Yes. They wanted to capitalize on your temporary vulnerability.”

“And the bank sending me money just as we fled Kazar for the iron mines three years ago?”

“That was my own initiative. For the record, I disapproved of the grab because I fully expected you to find a way to throw us off. I honestly believed you would use your golem’s memories to dig up yet another treasure.”

“Oh I’ll do that as well. It’s just time-consuming.”

“Yes. I also found it easier to convince the Elders by mentioning your track record. You left… a very strong impression in Helock. You have proven to be a faithful ally and a calamitous adversary.”

“Finally, people are learning.”

“Why yes, though I expect some will need a reminder. Not us, though. And with this, I must bid you goodbye. I fear the next few days will be quite busy.”

Viv accompanied Tom back. She didn’t mind having two banks compete, even though she had a vested interest in the success of one of them. For now, Harrak was stable and growing. Her next two big projects would be turning her forces into a coherent army and coronation, but first, there was an urgent task that needed completing.

Viv sighed.

She had to go clear the sewers.

Chapter 150: Important business

Ban carefully unlocked the grate, then pulled it open with a grunt. It broke. The maw yawned open to reveal the darkness within.

Ok, so it went down two meters ending in a small landing but not everyone could see perfectly in the dark.

What was left of the door clanged on the ground, hinges rotten to reddish flakes. The rest was covered in a sort of white, calcified gunk. The expected fetid waft never reached Viv’s nose through the makeshift mask she insisted on wearing.

Those were sewers.

Abandoned sewers.

She knew the drill. Get in with a company of hardasses, then get picked off over the course of an entire movie fighting some subterranean insect species. Or get in and then return with some freshly unearthed turbo ebola pathogen that happened to turn humans into shambling horrors.  A zombie apocalypse in the middle of another zombie apocalypse sounded like a shit idea. That’s how you got superzombies.

//Your Grace?

Couldn’t look hesitant in front of the squad of One Hundreds.

“Move out.”

The objective was simple. Get into the sewers, explore them, map them, and clear them of any threats. She’d shared her concern about epidemics with Solfis. He had given her an answer she both hated and agreed with.

//If there is indeed a disease waiting to happen under the city.

//Then now is the best time to release it while we have an overabundance of priests compared to the rest of the population.

//The longer you wait and the more the population grows.

//The more it grows and the more keenly the need for sewers will be felt.

//And the more public hygiene will degrade.

//If there is a trap, it is best triggered early.

Viv hoped that was the right approach.

For this operation, she’d insisted on going with a group of elites like Irao or Solar. However, Solfis had disagreed before she could even ask them.

//You will go with a squad of the One Hundred.

“They might be in danger. It will be worse than if—”

//It will be.

//Which will provide a great training opportunity for you.

//Your task will be to keep them alive.

“I thought my task was to keep myself alive.”

//That will be my task.

//I shall come with you.

//And extract you should the worst come to pass.

//The operation will also prove your trust in them.

//The symbol is important.

//They have put a lot of effort into becoming worthy of the empire and you.

“You’re right. Ok, I’ll make sure to cover them.”

//And for them to cover you.

//There is no denying you are an extremely proficient duelist.

//Perhaps the best in your class.

//If you intend to join them at the head of your ‘tercios’.

//Then you must develop new skills.

“I am convinced.”

Or so Viv thought but walking behind the towering forms of Ban’s eleven handpicked warriors, she was having second thoughts. The only other nervous person was Poacher who had insisted on coming as well because they needed a scout.

The rest of the squad, plus Brick, looked like stone walls with muscles on their muscles. They would have been intimidating if Viv had not fought a Necrarch before.

Viv cast a light enchantment as they reached the first landing. It was a small open space, now completely empty. The local mana was low concentration brown and black, exactly what one would expect from a place like this. Blue mana would return with the water later. Hopefully.

A passage led to an adjoining room which they explored first. Nothing was left inside except for empty alcoves and the corroded remains of a metal ladder going up.

//This would lead to a sewer gate.

//An emergency exit for the crew, in case something happened.

“Sewer maintenance people, you mean?”

//Precisely.

//Many Harrakan cities share the same design when it comes to sewers.

//This would be a changing room, armory, and emergency safe room in case of a monster.

//All sewer employees would know how to defend themselves.

//However, special teams would always be called for anything more dangerous than class 3 threats.

//It was not the maintenance crew’s duty to fight.

//We should find more such rooms across the complex.

“Good, then we can hide there,” Poacher said.

//Naturally, none of the doors will remain intact.

“Nevermind.”

Poacher leaned and took her mask out of the way to spit. Viv was actually reconsidering the whole mask thing. The place was dry as hell, and surprisingly not dusty. As they descended further, they reached the first corridor Viv associated with actual sewers. The long, branching tunnel centered on a deep central canal where the dirty water would have flowed. Overhead arches collected refuse from overhead grates and, she assumed, private quarters as well. All of them had been walled off for now. The central canal was empty except for a thin layer of white fossilized matter. Out of curiosity, she took her dagger focus and prodded one of the layers clinging to a nearby column. It clinked with the sound of metal on stone. She removed her mask then. This place was neither dusty nor did it have any smell. If there were really pathogens in the air, that basic piece of tissue wouldn’t block them.

“Ok, let’s start left.”

“Do you need paper, milady?” Poacher asked while Ban gritted his teeth.

“No, I’ve got a perfect memory. Keep an eye out and let’s go.”

“Aye.”

The exploration was slow going. After the first intersection, Ban requested a set of three lights to cover the blind spots. The One Hundred had brought torches but they preferred to have free hands if possible, and VIv agreed. Her light blue radiance turned the entire level into a strange cathedral of crystallized architecture caught in time. Viv had an extremely strong suspicion that the crystal in question was, well, fossilized excrement, but hey.

She started to relax as they finished patrolling the first floor. Viv was very thorough, checking every nook and crannies for anything out of the ordinary. The only strange thing was that everything had corroded to an impossible degree, even more so than in Harrak. From the sluice gates to the doors and even fully metal-made ladders, nothing remained but rusted-through scraps. Viv wasn’t sure why but she suspected magic. It did make the inventory of remaining stuff easy.

The clonk of reinforced soles on stone accompanied the group wherever they went. They first came across a large chute going down into an empty pool far below and no one suggested climbing down the vertiginous walls.

//There will be an access tunnel nearby.

The plan was split into sections, forcing the One Hundreds to pass through empty archways when going from one section to another. Viv remembered where they were and hoped they would not have to use them. As Solfis had promised, they found circular stairs diving into the abyss. It was narrow enough that only one man could walk at a time, at least with those massive sets of armor. Once again, Viv was in the middle of the formation where she would be protected. She found herself relying more and more on her mana perception to track possible danger before it could jump on them. The narrow walls worried her the most, as they would give a brown caster an overwhelming advantage. For now, there was nothing unusual besides the low shimmer of her guardians' enchanted sets.

They delved deeper.

The next level started with all the chutes ending in a large open cave dug into the very stone. A large basin waited there, apparently designed to collect the ‘black water’. Viv had to increase the intensity of the light to reach the farthest reaches.

“Can you keep this up, Your Grace?” Ban asked.

“Yes, though everything will know we’re coming.”

“Most of the stuff that lives underground doesn’t like light much.”

//That is correct.

“If the spell fades though, you’ll be completely blinded, even with torches.”

“It will not fade,” Ban replied with conviction. “We will make sure of it.”

“Alright.”

Viv was genuinely impressed by the strength of his conviction. His men, plus Brick, continued with unerring discipline as they covered all angles and remained in a state of constant vigilance. It suddenly occurred to her that what they perceived and what she perceived were radically opposed impressions.

From her perspective, she was in a constant state of winging it through the many curveballs luck threw at her. All of her preparations served the singular purpose of giving her more options when shit hit the fan. The bank heist had been such an experience. The rumors Solfis returned spoke of one of the greatest deeds any thief had accomplished in that magical city. They’d put a fucking bucket on a golem’s head to block its field of view! That was so bad, it was almost cartoonish.

While she didn’t take herself too seriously, it had become abundantly obvious that her soldiers did.

And she could not let them down.

Feeling calmer, Viv continued to move with the rest of the team. Poacher kept telling her what she saw, which was nothing, while Solfis explained what they found.

//This reservoir should lead into a series of increasingly small filters and cleaning vats.

“Using enchantments?”

//Yes.

//Sinur’s Gate was rich.

//Keeping this system working required little effort to them.

//Unfortunately, most of the purification work was done by strands of mushrooms selected by specific brown and life mages.

//They will have long died out.

“A shame.”

//The city’s mage population can make up for inefficiencies while we come up with a solution.

“They won’t like that,” Poacher commented.

Viv had to agree. Mages were high in the social pyramid while sewer cleaners lurked at the bottom, metaphor intended. If there were any issues, she would reactivate the enchantments themselves. How could one be considered inferior when they kept the city clean and promoted general hygiene? How could a worker be considered the lowest of the low when there were people who made loud phone calls at the restaurant? She would lead by example.

They kept moving through smaller series of reservoirs, rune circles still visible on the walls and ceilings. Once again, the sluice gates had melted and the only remaining signs of spell circles were rusty deposits in hollow recesses. Viv only gave the circles a passing glance. They could be reconstituted later. They needed to finish the delve first.

They came across another safe room on the way, just as Solfis had predicted. The passage did not lead up but to the side, the exit probably somewhere on the cliff’s surface. It took them another ten minutes of careful exploration before the purification basins finally led them to the final piece of the treatment process. A large passage with a very wide canal led forward to a cavern of awesome proportion.

Viv intensified the light until it touched rows of stalactites in the far end of the opening. From there, the natural formations seamlessly melded into a more rectangular cut wall to for a hollow pyramid pointing up, half natural, half excavated. The base, the entire bottom of the cavern, hosted a reservoir that would rival an Olympic swimming pool. A stone column emerged from its center in a vertiginous climb towards the apex of the room, only to break midway, leaving behind a disappointing gash like a broken tooth. The mana here was stronger. The air also smelled musty. Whatever enchantment Viv had felt when looking upon that great work faded immediately.

“Wait. Something ain’t right,” Poacher said, echoing her concerns.

Ban made a fist and the soldiers tightened their ranks, spears aimed forward towards the reservoir which, at first glance, contained nothing but the same white, crystallized remains as the rest.

Which made no sense.

Wait, no, Viv realized, if the spells had faded before the waters could be purified, it would make sense that some of the gunk would end up at the bottom before being cleaned.

Would it?

“Back up,” she whispered, and the formation walked away from the edge with small, careful steps.

But then, where were the undead? Sewers clearly had an ecosystem or there would not be so many countermeasures designed to stop it. Surely there was at least something alive down there before the cataclysm. So where were the undead?

Unless, of course, something had consumed them.

A glint attracted Viv’s attention to the white gunk covering everything. It was the same residue everywhere. Again, that was weird.

Unless, of course.

“It’s not human excrement,” Viv realized.

“Movement, ahead,” Poacher replied.

Something pulsed once, cracking the surface of pallid crust in a quake. A second turned fissures into deep ravines. Black goop erupted from the wounds in pungent eruptions. As if an abscess was pierced, the smell of corruption escaped from the open sore and assaulted Viv’s nose in a revolting tide, an atrocious stench to overshadow even the most necrotic wounds. It was an odor that revolted the brain until the only possible option became fleeing. Already, someone was throwing up and it was all Viv could do not to join them despite her will and constitution.

Something broke the surface. The creature reared up like a flaccid snake, tossing purulent pieces of rotting matter across the room. Decaying gray flesh in bulbous assemblies supported a headless maw filled like a pit with hundreds of inward-facing brittle fangs.

//Depth worm.

It was undead, Viv felt, and so she did her best to fight back. Had to cover the One Hundred while they recovered from the shock. Her danger sense and perceptions screamed at her and she let her experience guide her mind.

“Yoink!”

It was surprisingly easy to drag back the black mana this time. Viv felt a fugacious, deceitful flash of hope in her heart before the link she’d hit disintegrated.

The head smashed onto the reservoir below with a screech, still alive. From the bisecting wound, hundreds of putrescent maggots erupted, spewed all over them in a doom rain.

“Oh my GODS! Blight! Werfer!”

Viv coated herself in black mana to stop the stench, then she her fastest area denial spells in quick succession but it would not be enough and—

“Hah!”

Against all odds, Brick smashed her shield on the stone, then stood her ground.

A strange pull sent Viv back into the realm of clarity.

Right. This was a monster. Fight the monster.

Her soul rose, reigniting Ban’s mind with the fires of leadership. They had no need to speak at this point. They knew what to do.

Her spell tore into the thickest mass of creatures, voiding them where they flew. The blight continued its path towards the twisting remains of the depth worm’s lower extremity as it still vomited torrents of ravenous spawn. She inspected one.

[Undead depth worm hatchling]

Not too dangerous. She had to focus on the head now crawling towards them.

“The side!” Poacher said.

Hatchlings were climbing through the empty canal towards the passage they were standing on.

“Back up,” Ban ordered, and Viv agreed.

The squad stayed in formation while Viv obliterated most of the hatchlings. The rest swarmed over the heavies and the soldiers… cut them apart.

With cold efficiency, the back ranks placed their pilums over the head of their companions and punched creatures from the air before they could land. Other hatchlings bounced against runic shields, or they were smashed down or pierced midair by expert spear lunges. The One Hundred fought methodically, systematically, with the well-honed precision of a deadly machine. The display calmed Viv down and let her focus on the head still making its way towards her. The first young spell failed. In answer, she floated a bit above the air to give herself a better field of view.

“Hyperbeam.”

A concentrated ray of annihilation carved a narrow path through rotting flesh. Viv used the tiny opening to connect with the worm’s head.

It was powerful, but nowhere as powerful as a Necrarch. And now that Viv had found what was left of the brain, the creature’s resilience worked against it. She cut off the toothy top of the head, leaving the rings flopping aimlessly on the ground.

Meanwhile, the squad was still falling back. Poacher used a saber to cut at all the hatchlings trying to climb from the sides, though they were few now that they were away from the main corpse. Once Viv was certain the main body was no longer a danger to them, she turned her attention to the swarm.

A summary blight purged the canal from one end to another, then a second casting spread over the disgusting main reservoir scathing it from end to end. The heavy gas dug into the crater in a greedy shroud. A few last castings and spear thrusts disposed of the last wriggling survivors. The battle ceased due to a lack of combatants. Silence returned to the despoiled battlefield. Viv removed her coating and regretted it in the same instant. With the threat of imminent death no longer needling her on, her willpower finally succumbed. She leaned forward and regurgitated her entire breakfast.

“Oh no, don’t—”

Poacher joined her mid-retch. None of the heavies stooped so low as to join them.

“Oh that was—”

Viv’s second attempt didn’t fair much better than the first. Solfis picked her bodily, then the squad walked out of the reservoir where the air was comparatively fresher. To be fair, a public toilet at the end of a rave would have smelled better than this.

“Let’s… let’s never, ever, ever mention this battle again,” Viv hiccuped.

No one objected.

//A sanitization team will have to be dispatched.

//They must be made aware of the circumstances.

“You do it. I couldn’t give it justice without swearing for a solid ten minutes.”

Poacher summoned some water from thin air to clean her mouth, something Viv couldn’t do. Ban discreetly did the same for one of his men who had faltered at the beginning of the battle. Viv felt extremely sorry for the One Hundred because she could guess they would be trained to avoid such a problem in the future and she would rather lick a cactus than submit herself to stench conditioning.

Then they waited.

They waited for Viv.

“Hm, so, I think we’ve mapped out everything. We can return now.”

“As you say, ma’am. Formation, march!”

“A word, if you please?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Viv walked next to Ban while the squad headed back as if nothing had happened. From their expressions, it was just another day at work. She used a sound spell for privacy.

“So, Brick. She just stood there and that grounded me, somehow? Is that a special ability?”

“We don’t know, Your Grace. We just know that Brick does not run. Let me say that again, ma’am, because this is important. Brick. Never. Runs. And because she doesn’t move, others will not move either. We saw terrible things in the deadlands. I remember… I remember a dead woman with her stillborn child…”

He shook his head, chasing away traumatic memories.

“We’ve seen the worst of the worst. Trust me. She never falters. I don’t even know if she can.”

“Have you asked her how she can stand her ground like that?”

“I did. And she looked me right in the eyes, and she said: because you didn’t order me to move, sah!”

Viv pondered that for a little while. She’d met an entity more terrifying than herself, once again.

//Finally.

//The perfect infantrywoman.

“It isn’t so.”

//If you insist, Your Grace.

Sidjin and Abe volunteered to work on restoring the sewers. When Viv thanked them profusely for it, they admitted that they’d been working on a colorless approach to water purification and needed a testing ground for it. This obviously annoyed Viv very much, however they placated her by agreeing to drink the first glasses they would deem safe.

Honestly, Viv wasn’t sure she could ever touch anything coming from that hellhole without the haunting memory of ‘eau de rotten worm ass’ teasing her nostrils. Just the thought sent her reeling. Sidjin also begged her to explain what had gone wrong. She categorically refused. Nobody wanted to mention ‘the sewer incident’ again, especially Viv, not since she’d found a piece of ancient gunk sticking to her hair.

This also led Viv to an uncomfortable realization as she saw Sidjin walk up to the room he’d selected for himself.

She was taking him for granted. And being an ass.

“Hey, Sidjin, can we talk?”

“Of course, Viviane.”

“In my room.”

“Oh,” he replied more seriously. “This kind of talk.”

“Yeah.”

Viv made her way to the royal bedroom. Solfis deployed and left to give them the illusion of privacy. It was a nice bedroom she had, possibly the most luxurious quarters she’d ever had. The canopied bed, dressers and chests were still rudimentary and yet the care put into each object, each tapestry and each ribbon gave it a loving, cared for presence that Viv didn’t quite deserve yet. She’d been moving a lot and never settling. Maybe it was time to make a home for the foreseeable future. It was also very safe, with wards and solid doors. The two sat next to a short coffee table Viv hadn’t had the time to use. Sidjin boiled them two cups of klod.

“Look, first, let’s talk about the job part. I want to get it out of the way. You’ve been helping people around and I haven’t even paid you. Or given you a title. And let’s be honest, you’d be overqualified for my job.”

“Oh, no, the role of ruler requires sets of skills I am no longer willing to employ. And besides, I am having far more fun coming up with innovative technologies with Abe. Even Solfis grudgingly agreed that we have surpassed some Harrakan standards.”

“Hah! You pair of… obsessive people.”

There were no terms for nerds on Nyil. Maybe she ought to create one.

“And yes if you do want to give me a job, I’d happily take one.”

“Are you staying for Harrak? Or are you staying for me?”

“They’re one and the same, darling. This used to be the frontier town of Kazar, along with its narrow fertile strip. Now, it’s a growing kingdom built on your vision. You even let folks pick their own representatives! How very, very subversive of you. The power of the people…”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Oh, but it is. Trust me. We are pushing back the deadlands. We are feeding families. We are regrowing arms, curing people, changing lives for the better when everywhere else, those in power would not give them the time of the day. I have repaired the wall of the orphanage in Kazar. The children, the way they looked at me. They were not afraid. They were dreaming. This world is gray, Viv. So long as you struggle for good, I’ll be by your side if you’ll have me. Don’t worry. I know we’re not perfect. What matters is that we all try. And keep trying even if we fall and fail.”

“Well then, I kind of want you to be the, uh, first Archmage?”

“Really?” Sidjin asked with a knowing smile. He could read her pretty well.

“Oh, fine, I want you as Prince Consort. However! I… I no longer know you.”

She deflated. The first time, she’d pushed Sidjin into the relationship but now, it felt strange for her to do the same when she’d been the one to stop it. They had drifted away after the arena fiasco and Rakan’s near demise. His scar, his hands, they were familiar yet foreign.

“We can take it slowly. Very slowly. The first time, you seduced me with great confidence. Allow me to return the favor. After all, in my culture, the prince courts the princess. Not the other way around.”

“Oh. That sounds pretty nice.”

“I will also act as your second staff on the field of battle. That means I will handle one of the shield arrays. I also have an idea to make your tercio formation even more effective.”

“I am intrigued.”

“Good, that is how it all starts.”

He kissed her on the cheek and left, leaving behind a perfume like clove and fresh soap.

“You smooth bastard.”

Viv expected she’d have to put out a lot of fire but that was without counting Lady Azar’s management abilities. With her growing army of helpers, the experienced politician handled most difficulties from trade disagreements to underhanded election tactics, leaving Viv to deal with the weird and unique. Essentially, Azar provided management while Viv provided vision. Harrak had managed well while she was away and it continued to do so now that she was here dealing with issues she was best suited to solve. The first was limb regrowth.

Just like before, many experts had joined her banner and continued to do so in exchange for the promise of affordable surgery. Contrary to before, the number of warriors had decreased in favor of a more diverse cast. One of the smiths had lost most of his fingers in a fire. A jeweler’s elbow had healed badly after it was broken by a rival. More came because their families needed help, especially children. She healed a small girl disfigured by a dog attack on her second day and that had been a delicate operation. After a week of this, Viv realized it would be better with help.

So she taught Abe.

The almost alive person had a knack for black mana. He only needed the change aspect, which was granted to him in a limited manner after a divine insight came from Enttiku. Viv would never forget his eyes turning pitch black and his face twisting in a rictus of beatific ecstasy. Disturbing as all hell! In any case, Abe could not regrow limbs without the help of Enttiku’s clergy since he could not manage the divine healing himself. He was still very slow compared to Viv but there was progress.

Day after day, Viv regrew fingers, legs, hands, toes, knees, even the occasional eye and left people crying with joy in the arms of their relatives. There were hundreds of them coming when called to experience this miracle. It was possibly the most gratifying experience she’d had in her life.

The other gratifying experience, though a little tedious, consisted in building more mana-conversion pillars. Some of her staff suggested moving the pillars deeper into the deadlands but Viv fiercely opposed that idea, stating that should parts of the perimeter fail, black mana would pour through the gap corrupting humans and crops alike. Making new pillars was not particularly taxing and they were designed to recharge themselves anyway, so she could just leave the old one in place and they would reactivate if needed. Viv was much more concerned about sabotage and failure than she was about her time. Redundancies existed for a reason. It also took a while for life to return to a recently cleared section, which meant that she had to place pillars first and then the land would become arable weeks, sometimes months later.

“It is possible that the conversion speed will decrease the farther we are away from the Deadshield woods and its life-enhancing effects,” Sidjin observed one day.

“One more reason to work fast while we are not too busy.”

A model was left to the new mages just so they could learn how to do it but Viv got a dose of realism when it became obvious that the girls had suffered a lot under Elunath’s tyranny and it would take a long time for many of them, and much therapy from Abe, before they could just go and plant obelisks in the deadlands.

It took Viv over a month before the influx of patients and most of ward work slowed to a trickle. By then, summer would happen soon and with it, the harvest. During the harvest, many soldiers would ask for leave to return to help their families. Viv had limited time to train them before this happened so she decided to make the most of it.

“We have a problem,” she told her staff the night before. “We lack a general.”

They looked at each other, then at her. Sidjin nodded thoughtfully.

“I'm not a general,” she said. “It’s not my path. I receive training in tactics and strategy at the Academy and I studied warfare on Earth but I know very little about maneuvers, logistics, everything else that matters. Hell, even fortifying a spot is beyond me. We need a general.”

“And unless we get an unexpected defection, we won’t have one.” Sidjin said.

Farren grabbed the map of Param and placed it on the table between them. The angelic young man took a serious countenance.

“I believe you are mistaking the roles of general and strategist, Viviane the Oulander. A strategist belongs to a very specific path that has become quite rare following the fall of the empire, simply because it works best, nay, it requires directing an army and is therefore very specialized. A general leads the men. Remember Constable Tarano?”

Of course Viv remembered. She’d shoved an Excalibur through his chest.

“You do. Well, he didn’t have a general path yet he still commanded the loyalist army, and he did so pretty well. Nous-granted skills are not what usually makes a great leader though social skills help. It is, in fact, a combination of many factors.”

“That makes sense.”

“The most important of which is that your people follow you and you have us as well. We will have to work together for success and we will. If a strategist does show up, all the better. In the meanwhile, nothing replaces drills.”

“Alright.”

The army gathered on the plain outside Sinur’s Gate, on the undead side where little would grow. Even here, at the foot of the cliff, some revenants still found a way to wander within view. The army ignored them so long as they were not in range. Viv opened with a sound enchantment, eager to begin.

“Soldiers of Harrak, we have been tested before and we have come up the victors because we were superior. Superior in discipline, in equipment, in preparation. Superior in motivation. There is only one aspect where we cannot compete, and that aspect is numbers.

“Every drop of Harrakan blood we shed must be paid dearly. Every life we have lost must be remembered and avenged. Your lives are precious to Harrak, they are precious to me, and so I have come up with what I believe will best leverage our strength to achieve the only acceptable result: overwhelming victory.”

“Harrak eternal!”

Viv waited for the exclamations to calm down. Once again, the Children of the Scale had led with their enthusiasm, no doubt buoyed by the very smug presence of Arthur at Viv’s side. The dragoness left her bank to motivate her minions for at least an hour. They were overjoyed.

That annoyed Viv just a little bit.

“We will fight the way we have always fought: by backing and protecting each other. By combining our strengths until they become something greater. We will be forming a Tercio. The heavies shall block the enemies and fight them directly. The marksmen and women shall deliver death from afar. As for the casters, we will protect you with our portable shields and unleash arcane destruction on our foes.

“In order to do that, we must first train until we are not soldiers but a well-oiled machine of war: an army. It will be tedious but I assure you, when ranks of our foes fall upon us and fail, you will remember this day fondly. Let’s begin.”

The idea behind the Tercio was simple in principle yet difficult to execute. Tercios were created by the Spanish Habsburg Empire at the apex of its military might. Ranks of armored pikemen would form a square while mobile groups of arquebusiers, later musketeers, would shoot from within. The tercios enjoyed the staying power of heavy infantry and the range power of firearms which the formation protected well. They were also highly capable on offense while able to defend assaults from any direction, especially if deployed in echelons of several formations.

Viv would replace pikemen with heavies and arquebusiers with witch pact and hoped it would work. The only issue was that armies at that time had unreliable artillery while Nyil had mage formations. It would be easy for them to annihilate expensive and precious Harrakan heavies. Viv’s solution was the portable shield array.

Yries metal constructs were not, in fact, tanks. They were metal wagons powered by mana engines. The Yries thought they’d keep the method secret but Viv could read mana easily, too easily, so she knew they functioned on cores. Each wagon was about as long as a Hummer, though narrower. They also kept a rather high profile. The back of the tank was dedicated to the engine, the front to a driver seat, and the top to whatever the Yries wanted to fit on there. They moved off four large metal wheels.

The Yries usually fit catapults and ballista, however they’d built three shield arrays according to Viv’s design, powering them with the large black mana cores she had found during her Necrarch hunt. They functioned by themselves but they worked better with a mage around who could recharge the core.

The most basic exercises consisted in having the soldiers simply form around the tanks. Viv elected to take the center one with the One Hundred in front simply because they were the most powerful formation. She picked the Children of the Scales to make up the rest of the square because that was, she believed, the safest spot. For the range company, she picked the Sisters of the Eye since they were the best marksmen. The right flank was traditionally the most dependable so she gave it to the Mountain Sons who had proven they were highly coordinated along with the support of the Bitter Hearts. The left flank had the Fingers supporting the Hightree Company. Both bodies boasted the most versatile fighters gathered from veterans. She was certain they would be the most responsive and adaptive block of her army. Lana joined, to Viv’s surprise, and went with the right flank while Sidjin took the left with easy confidence.

The first part went well. The soldiers learned to go from column to squares in good times. Viv just showed the officers what needed to be done and they made it happen. She climbed in her tank and activated it, out of curiosity, after they’d formed squares. The construct lit up beautifully and a huge, transparent circle formed a dome over the assembled troops to their delight. A few stragglers walked in as they were a little too far to be covered. Out of curiosity, Viv infused the shield with black mana. It took a lot of energy to feed the large construct but she managed it for a few seconds without problems. The issue was that no one could see anything.

Lana and Sidjin activated their own which turned a little blue and quite shiny, respectively. The machines worked. The mood improved as a result.

“Alright, now let’s start moving!”

The rest of the day was spent simply marching in formation, then holding. Just as she’d planned, the three Tercios were echeloned with her own being slightly forward. By the first day’s end, they were able to move forward and fall back while keeping the formation functional.

What surprised Viv the most was how thoroughly disciplined everyone was. She’d expected some sort of issue but each company was attempting to outdo the others in terms of performance, and they really took the exercise seriously.

The second day was much the same but with lateral movements which ended in disaster the first few times. Then, Viv had the Tercios move independently. At the end of the day, she tested the shield’s power in front of everyone by sitting inside her own tank and having Sidjin and Lana bombard her. She invited others to try and this turned into a game.

Stones and spells smashed into Viv’s shield first by the soldiers, then more joined from spectators coming from the city. By the time night fell, all of the girls including a giddy Rakan and his students had gathered to throw everything they had at Viv who merely bothered to look cool while using the Aspect of the Guardian skill to beef up her shield. The diversion worked well to alleviate boredom and the next days kept going with the same patient determination as the others.

Once Viv was confident people could move, she tried to have them charge forward for the first time. The first few attempts actually succeeded, although the shield could not follow. The tanks didn’t have enough acceleration. Viv could only offset this by having the shield move forward before the charge started. It wasn’t a perfect workaround, however.

“We will improve next designs. We promise,” her Yries pilot assured her. “More death. Faster. Add spikes in the front.”

Viv glared at the Yries who remained the very picture of owlish innocence. She recognized him as the same lad who’d piloted the drill, the one that pierced the walls of Kazar during her very first campaign. He was just as unhinged now as he’d been back then. She suspected the bioweapon Yries group were a gathering of murderous whack jobs by their society’s standards. She wondered what that meant.

“Ok? So long as it can keep up.”

“Yes, keep up, and smash into humans.”

Viv glared harder.

“The bad humans.”

“I have my eyes on you.”

“We regret to inform you that the Manipeleso Bank and Exchange will not assist you in recovering Elunath’s money, nor make the attempt, for the simple reason that you have been stripped of all rights in Helock and branded a criminal.”

Viv shrugged. She suspected as much but it was worth a try.

“Make no mistakes, we have already refused their attempt to seize your belongings. For the same reason, we cannot request them to comply with their own laws because, in the end, the interpretation of their laws is their prerogative. It would be a waste of lawyers' fees to try to convince a government to work against their own interests for the sake of ‘honesty’.”

“I figured it might set a bad precedent.”

“It would set a terrible precedent to reward an aggressor for being clever. I can only congratulate you on your victory and hope you took everything that wasn’t nailed down.”

“I did my best.”

After two weeks of constant practice, the army could do as she wanted so she started shuffling formations, changing one company for another. It turned out that not much changed so the time came to test the army in the field. They gathered some rations, then Viv distributed her brand new invention.

Portable radios.

Those were actually communicating devices mounted on helmets and, if she had to be absolutely honest, okay, not her invention. However, though the Paramese already used communication in the field, those were mostly made using spells and horn signals. The ability to communicate complex orders should help. It took a bit of getting used to but eventually, she had a system in place where officers could listen in on orders and activate the secondary module to reply.

Feeling rather confident, they traveled north, stopping regularly to practice deploying in places where there was simply not enough space to fight normally. This forced the squares to become more compact, or to temporarily disband while going through a chokepoint. After that came the real test: actual battle.

Using a life beacon, Viv attracted a rather large force of revenants to attack her people. Using her square as bait allowed the two other formations to charge to cover her back. Viv made sure to kill revenants before anyone could really get hurt. It also revealed a new flaw in her formation: the lack of thickness.

One of the issues they had was almost a parity between lighter, shooting troops and heavies. This meant that the squares were relatively fragile if the marksmen were given enough room to move around. To remedy this situation, Viv had the Tercios practice heavier sides. That took a long time to get right. It was also at this point that Sidjin perfected his innovation: deployable forts. His idea was to create elevated platforms with crenelation from which the marksmen could shoot without having to do so over the ranks of the heavies. It was a great idea and they practiced its implementation. Although Viv could not do it as well as the others, eldritch walls still served the same purpose.

When they returned to Sinur’s Gate, they had an army capable of maneuvering albeit one that would still need to be tested in battle and improved upon. That was fine with Viv. She was in no rush to go to war.

The first message upon her return came, to her surprise, from Irao.

“King Sangor of Enoria wants to come visit.”

“Ah. And I assume he is not very pleased.”

“You assume very well,” Irao replied, sarcasm going over his head. “He is coming with two thousand men.”

“Wait, is this war?”

“No. This is intimidation.”

“Doesn’t he know? I’m an intimidation expert.”

Chapter 151: Sovereign meeting

“So, he is warning us.”

Viv stood in the council chamber of her palace with Enoria’s official letter in front of her. The room overlooked the deadlands and offered a perpetual background of roiling clouds above the distant, shambling shapes of revenants. It was not a pleasant view. She kept it that way on purpose.

People leaned over the nice parchment. It did look nice. It was polite, too.

“To Lady Viviane,

It shall be my honor to visit you in your territory on the fifteenth day of the month of seeding, along with my retinue.”

The rest was the typical signature and honorifics the Paramese nobles were fond of using in their correspondence. Viv immediately nodded a few important points. Meanwhile, Farren had an opinion.

“If he’s announcing a visit, he will not attack. The Temple of Neriad would consider this a grave violation of the sacred laws of negotiation. The presence of so many soldiers is a display of strength.”

“No,” Viv interrupted. “You cannot think that.”

“Pardon me?”

She pointed at the letter.

“Sangor never mentions Harrak or even Kazar. That means he doesn’t recognize us as a people. That’s one. Two, you cannot rely on rulers following treaties because everything is a question of cost and opportunity. If Sangor decides it is better to reabsorb us and face the consequences for years rather than let us exist, he will attack. And three, regardless of the likelihood of an actual attack, we cannot afford not to react in kind. If there is even a sliver of chance his army will strike us, we must be ready for it.”

Sidjin nodded in approval. Farren looked disappointed but not exactly combative.

“I concede your main point, which is that we must prepare for war regardless of Sangor’s intentions.”

“He might fabricate a casus belli,” Lady Azar added. “It has been done before, at least in Baran. Duke Sotti recently slew a recalcitrant baron at a party using the excuse of insubordination. He made penance, paying weregild to the man’s widows. He still regained control of the barony in the end because his actions were legally justified. We are not recognized by the Paramese alliance for now. Sangor can do with us as he pleases with only a slap on the wrist.”

“Right,” Viv said. “Then we are in agreement. I will meet him as he requests… with the army.”

“And the levies?”

“That won’t be needed.”

Lady Azar considered the question.

“The space before Sinur’s Gate would be a decent place for a meeting. It has room for all of their soldiers. It would also let them see our prosperity so that they speak of it when they return home. Kazar was always considered a frontier. Now, the deadlands have been pushed back.”

“We will do no such a thing. I’m not letting them take a single step on our land where they’ll get a chance to get rowdy. Never will we be at the mercy of a superior opponent if we can stop them before they can reach us. We will meet…”

She pointed at the halfway lake, the only safe stopping place on the path through the Deadshield Woods. Viv had split the teleport path in two there specifically to act as a sort of airlock, with one gate leading to Aneston in Enoria, and the other to Kazar.

“...there.”

“There is barely enough space for a couple hundred men!”

“Not to worry. I will make the room.”

Viv emerged from the witch gate into the depths of the woods, where one may lose themselves forever. Going from the expanse of tamed land to the pulsating, vivid heart of the forest disorientated her. Dense mana covered every tree, seeped through every crevice in their urge to make things grow. There was a life there that even dragons could not quench. There was death as well, death in the soil and in the claws of the many predators haunting the boughs. Towering copses surrounded the lake on all sides. The only signs of civilization were the black smears on the grass, remains of recent fires. Of the catastrophic damage the blaze drones had inflicted on this patch of land during Lancer’s attack, nothing was left. The Deadshield Woods stood eternal and the nations of men ought to be grateful it was content with what it had.

Sidjin emerged from the gate at her side, grumbling about witch magic and the lack of respect for traditional spellcasting. Arthur arrived a second later through her own portal because she wanted to show off.

“Right, darling. Only two days before they show up. How would you like to proceed?”

“First, we get some intimacy.”

Viv gestured and the far witch gate deactivated, the path closed until she decided otherwise.

She could simply stay like that. It was likely Sangor didn’t have the material or supplies to cross the woods which had always been a perilous affair until Viv’s generous contribution. But she wouldn’t. Because it was not about being difficult. It was about sending a message.

“There, we won’t be bothered until I say so. Second, we make space.”

“And how would we do that?” the Red Mist of Glastia asked with a knowing smile.

“We burn it all down to the fucking ground.”

‘SQUEE!”

And so the terrible work began.

Tactical spells designed to turn companies into paste tore through majestic trunks and heavy branches with undeserving fury. Trees buckled. Rocks flew. Sometimes, unlucky harriens and colorful birds were caught, too stupid to understand the destruction coming for them. A rolling wave of force, fire, and death shredded through square kilometers of land without respite in a great din that sent the wildlife stampeding away to safety. At some point, Rakan came with his pupils and decided it was a great exercise. Abe also came with the ladies and decided that a cathartic exercise in deforestation was ‘a refreshing task that unlimbered the legs and promoted the free expression of one’s magical might in a safe environment’.

That turned out to be a little untrue when a mighty roar shook the very earth. A titanic being crashed through the undergrowth, a hunched creature covered in growths and rocks like a moving ridge. It glared at Viv from small beady eyes deeply embedded in a craggy face barely discernible from its surroundings. Lianas and stones floated around it, seeking a foe. Viv inspected it.

[Antalis Queen, dangerous, natural brown caster]

She looked angry.

“Did you expect we would attract such attention?” Sidjin asked without much concern.

“Expect? I was counting on it. I’ll make you queen of my dinner, you legged knoll.”

The Antalis queen was strong, yet against the combined power of Viv, Sidjin, Arthur, Abe, and Rakan, that strength did very little.

After they killed it, Viv stared at the hole she had dug in the creature’s face. She had used the hyperbeam spell, the one that offered the best penetration at range. It had not quite killed the creature in a single hit.

The beast’s fallen mass served as a reminder that it was just one of the many predators inhabiting the forest, and although they were deep, it was still nothing compared to the true heart far north of here. There would always be a bigger fish, but for now, they remained in control of the field.

The next part was much less fun so only Sidjin and Viv worked on it, and they did so for hours. Cutting and burning was all well and good. It would not create a flat space suitable to stand on. The eldritch wall spell proved to be a good alternative to brown mana in getting a flat, serviceable surface.

The two worked for the entire day, then through much of the night. Irao arrived the next morning confirming Sangor would arrive the day after, shortly before noon, along with his two thousand men.

“They have three hundred and twenty-six knights and six hundred and fifty-eight archers. I counted them myself.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome. I am leaving now. Goodbye.”

“Take care!”

The timing would be fine. At dawn, Viv called for the army which was camping in the plains of Kazar. They showed up eager and excited. The deployment was made with a festive mood, even with a non-negligible risk of war. In fact, they seemed to be looking forward to it. Witchpact companies outdid each other with war paints while the heavies made sure their spear pennants were fluffy and clean for maximum floating-in-the-breeze effect. The best part was when Sidjin approached Viv with a nice chest.

“What is it? Oooooh my old armor. Very — OH MY GODS THERE ARE TINY HOLES FOR MY WINGS!”

Not true wings.

“Hush you. Sidjin, thank you so much. I was just thinking that I have returned to my normal height. Excellent. I’m never pulling the wings back in again. It’s just so comfortable to have them hanging around.”

“You do enjoy things that hang around.”

“Silence,” Viv hissed. “Not in front of the child.”

I know what mating is.

“They grow up so fast. Anyway. Let me put this on.”

Viv’s old armor was half enchanted robe and half fashion statement. The enchantments were made of silverite, the second half of what she’d gotten from Solfis’ hangar. It was very precious and the work of Helock’s best tailors. Between this and her skinsuit, she felt properly dressed.

“Maybe I should buy enchanted boots.”

Boots are stupid. Feet are stupid.

“Maybe I’ll make them out of insolent white dragon scales.”

Noooooooo!

Sangor hated the ‘witch gates’. He hated them because they’d popped on his land without his knowledge or approval. He hated them because they made such things as borders, forts, and logistics less relevant. Mostly, he hated them because they were a powerful tool in a rival as unpredictable as she was frustrating.

And now he would have to use one.

The strange circle lit up when Yrlin of the Thorns touched it. His paramour gave him a smile that showed her canines, her usual, before stepping in along with a detachment of knights. She returned a moment later.

“It’s working. Oh, and she’s expecting us. Try not to let it get to you, hmm? We do not want to gawp in front of the social climber.”

Sangor could read between the lines.

“Captain, stay here and make sure the men understand they are carrying the dignity of Enoria as they go through the gate. We will be deploying in defensive formation against infantry. I expect the highest standards of professionalism.”

“Understood, sir.”

Sangor had brought some of his best along with capital troops from the south, in theory loyal but untested as they were on the other side during the war. Besides Yrlin, the only high-ranking member of his retinue was Edwin Milderry, from Green Edge, who had insisted on coming to see how ‘that ballsy young witch’ was doing. He offered a nice counterpart to Bishop Reno who had the privilege of being the representative of the Church of Maranor and the highest-ranking asshole Sangor couldn’t afford to have publicly flogged. At least, the witch gates would make the trip shorter. Silver linings.

Sangor breathed in when nobody could see him, then he walked through.

The feeling was disorienting but brief and he soon found himself in the middle of the Deadshield Woods’ path to the Old Empire.

Despite warnings, it was all he could do not to appear affected. His leadership guided him into the appearance of a confident sovereign riding down the slope on a mighty warhorse, barded in armor. The very symbol of Enoria. Elite knights surrounded him as he took in the surroundings.

It was a vision of the apocalypse.

Where he expected a maze of trees and leaves, the land was flat for hundreds of paces in every direction, broken, ravaged. Black smoke rose through the late spring air in ominous columns where the fires had not yet died. The ground was dark and twisted, flat, tamed and clawed by powerful destructive magic. It was a display of destructive power that should have cost enough mana to raze a fortress and they’d done it as a warning. And in the middle of all that devastation stood the Harrakan army, and he knew, in this moment, that he would not take the deadlands by force.

Rows of heavy infantry in black armor stood in grim formations, white pennants floating in the wind the only signs they were not statues. Masses of crossbowmen and… yes, those were women, grinned at them from behind the lines or from the top of earth barricades built with magic, their features hidden behind morbid face paints like southern savages. War machines occupied the back ranks and the core of the formation. All and all, over a thousand five hundred combatants waited in well-prepared positions, slightly up the slope. They watched the Enorians line up on the plains and they seemed… eager. Eager and amused. He inspected them to confirm what his instincts told him.

An old woman with a goofy smile.

[Bitter Heart Markswoman]

A skull-faced girl with a massive crossbow decorated with silver patterns.

[Elder Sister of the Eye]

A bearded man with scars and a two-handed longsword on his back.

[Hightree Heavy Linebreaker]

They already had military traditions. Neriad’s bollocks, that wasn’t bad for such a short time. Out of curiosity, he concentrated on the war machines.

[Shrill catapult, fire wasps]

What the fuck?

Just as he focused on another, a shape in a black cloak appeared out of nowhere near his target. It was a bald man with strange yellow eyes and an axe on his back. The man glared at him, made a throat-slitting gesture, then disappeared again. A Hadal. The reports were true.

Right, no more inspections.

The witch was waiting for them.

In the middle of the clearing, someone had erected a large tent. A group of knights in black armor formed a half-circle around it, as was tradition in negotiations. The witch was waiting for him on a comfortable, slightly saggy couch along with a few people he didn’t recognize. There was a northerner in mage garb, a severe Baranese woman with prim gray hair, the horrendous bone golem, and the young dragon who had, and he had to double check, golden ribbons on her black horns. The witch waved when he looked. She was one of three people who actually moved out of the hundreds of glaring people. The second was a stout lad cutting meat out of the belly of a colossal dead beast sporting wounds that would have destroyed a fortress gate. The last one was one of the ugliest women he had ever seen. She was grilling meat skewers, fanning them and rubbing them with oil. He had to compose himself not to be taken aback by the outrageous display.

“The hills behind us are trapped with black mana constructs,” Yrlin chuckled. “Do try not to aggravate her too much?”

“Can you disarm them?”

“Yes but she will feel it and it will be an act of war. The man by her side is the fallen prince of Glastia, Sidjin the Red Mist.”

Right. Do not provoke the witch. Easy.

As he approached, he noted the more alien elements of her appearance. The armor already set the tone but the monstrous eyes and shadow limbs confirmed she was now an elemental Archmage of the black color. The first in recorded history. It didn’t take a mage to feel the power radiating from her, even at a distance. He watched those emerald circles in her black sclera and felt an alien amusement, an intellect both unhinged and soaked in the otherworldly knowledge she spread around like a peasant spreads seed, eager to see what would take root.

A cynical part of him harped on that he should have killed her when he’d met her, that outlanders were always a mess. He had not, because he had not risen to power by killing the unknown. He had harnessed it. She had been… less important at that time. He had been on the verge of triumph with Tarano trapped like a rat in Green Hedge. There was no reason for him to care about her anymore when he had finished a war that had started while he was just a child. Now… some things had changed. None for the best.

The witch didn’t stand up to receive him, though she smiled invitingly as she gestured to the seats. The ugly old woman brought another two from somewhere behind the ranks of black-clad knights. Sangor recognized Rollo, a famed Baranese champion renowned for his jousting prowess as well as his love for another man. Truly, Harrak had embraced different norms.

“Welcome, welcome. Take a seat, all of you. Thank you, Gogen. Nice to see you again Milderry! We started on the skewers before you arrived. They’re best when hot. Tea?”

“With pleasure,” Sangor replied.

It would be rude to refuse. It would also play in her favor. He sat on a straight-backed chair of decent enough make since it didn’t groan under the weight of his armor. Yrlin sat daintily by his side, hand caressing her pregnant belly. Milderry crashed in his seat with a roaring laughter while Bishop Reno refused the invitation altogether.

Sangor expected it. Maranor favored power and until she was recognized, she would remain a traitor and a revolutionary in Her eyes. Of course, all the witch had to do was welcome the clergy of the Goddess of Power in her domain but so far, she’d neglected to do so.

The witch glared at the bishop, a reptilian gaze that said nothing. She picked a skewer and bit it, teeth digging in the juicy flesh of an apex monster. Now, she was seated and comfortable and eating in front of a man who remained at parade rest, an insult and a show of control. The bishop bristled. Sangor felt like sighing. The clergyman was reaping the consequences of his decision.

Sometimes, dogma went in the way of situational intelligence, he observed.

“Antalis Queen! It is good for me, beloved,” Yrlin said.

A breach of protocol. The two women were thoroughly enjoying themselves needling the poor bishop and Sangor’s own patience.

“Have some more!”

The Gogen woman placed a large platter in front of the dragon, who picked a nice piece of meat on a stick between two delicate talons. Serrated rows of fangs that could bite through plate armor closed on it while the creature fixed her crimson, malevolent gaze on the bishop.

Alright, that was enough.

“Thank you for having me here. I believe this meeting was long overdue. This is my paramour and Archwitch of the thorns, Yrlin.”

“We had the pleasure of meeting back in Green Hedge after you freed me. Congratulations are in order, I assume?”

“Thank you,” Yrlin replied. “And I see you still follow the Path of the Sun with… a lot of enthusiasm.”

“That was the war witch tradition, yes? I suppose I do then. On my side, please meet Baroness Azar, my chancellor.”

The prim lady nodded, her eyes calculating. Sangor knew who Azar was because she represented everything Enorians disliked about the old guard: smooth and cunning pursuit of power for its own sake. He had no idea what the witch had promised to get this career dire viper slithering in her bosom but he hoped it wasn’t worth it.

“And this is Edwin Milderry, Duke of Green Edge.”

“That’s some good meat! If you ever want to retire from the evil overlord gig, I have a position as a monster hunter available.”

“Oh, there is only enough room in Green Edge for one monster hunter. It’s good to see you again.”

“Hah! And no matter what the others say, nice going with Tarano. That overinflated ego had a good twatting coming, he did.”

Sangor listened to the song of Bishop Reno’s teeth grinding against each other.

“And here is Bishop Reno, of the Church of Maranor.”

“This is my daughter, She-Who-Feasts-on-Many-and-Creates-Much-Wealth. You know Solfis. And this is Sidjin, Archmage and advisor. And my paramour.”

“Her name really is that long?” Yrlin asked with some curiosity, yet another breach of protocol.

My claws are very long as well.

And my fire is very hot.

“My apologies, I did not mean to criticize.”

“Could we have some intimacy?” Sangor interrupted.

“Of course,” the witch replied.

She waved and the air changed in quality. The sound of the wind died down. They could speak freely. Well, mostly freely.

“Let me get to the point. You have placed portals on my lands. This is a violation of my sovereignty and is therefore entirely unacceptable. You will cease.”

He gave her a pointed look. She shrugged.

“My safety was at risk. But sure, no problem.”

That told Sangor a few things. Either the witch didn’t intend to travel north again or she had ways to travel that didn’t need portals or she was confident she could hide them. Or any combination of the three, really. This was going to be a long day.

“Speaking of portals, General Jaratalassi suggested that I could create a network between our land and the Baranese frontier for the fast transfer of troops. I can build portals that others can activate with enough mana.”

“You have been invited to the Paramese alliance?” Sangor asked with disbelief.

“Yes. Jaratalassi requested reinforcements within the next few months. He has… concerns.”

“He always has concerns. How do you know old Steel Trap?”

“He was my teacher at the Academy and I served under him during the last Hallurian incursion.”

“I see. I was under the impression the incursion was repulsed.”

“Jaratalassi expressed doubts on account of the fact that only a single warlord attacked us.”

“Hmmm.”

Sangor considered his options. The witch casually dropped significant pieces of information as if she didn’t know what they implied. The Paramese alliance was a loosely aligned gathering of nations tasked with fighting off the Halurians with one implicit clause: if a member of the alliance was actively fighting on the frontier, the others would stop any conflict for the duration of the participation. Truces were not strictly enforced but violators would see themselves barred out of international agreements, not to mention attracting the ire of Neriad. The Righteous god seldom expressed his anger. When he did…

If Sangor pushed too hard, the witch could appeal to Baran through her pet court animal. It would be a disaster.

“Perhaps an arrangement can be made,” Lady Azar suggested. “Witch gates can be used by anyone and they can be easily maintained if Her Grace has access to them. Witch gate networks can be extremely profitable for trade since they allow the travelers to save weeks of transit, not to mention less risk. Moreover, any mage can activate one. I am certain a man of your talent would see the remarkable potential of a new means of transport.”

The bishop took a deep breath. The man could feel when power changed hands. That offer was of tremendous value, and the implications were significant. Yrlin warned him that it took an understanding of reality only few could grasp to replicate the spell. So far, only she and Sidjin could build such gates. It gave them an enormous bargaining chip.

It also meant that the first sovereigns to bow to the Harrakan witch would gain an enormous advantage at the cost of submission to what was essentially a monopoly on cheap logistics.

Sangor considered the question. Enoria’s mage corps was decimated. It would take decades to rebuild it. Meanwhile, the northern province already boasted an active gate system.

He had little choice in the matter.

“I assume you have conditions.”

“We would be interested in a trade agreement, a fair bargain, I assure you. Here are the terms,” Lady Azar said, and she passed him a sheet.

Those were lists of approved goods as well as tariffs. The gates would cost twenty-five gold talents a season per gate to maintain with rebates in case the witch used it for her own purposes, such as by moving her army. He would, of course, collect a toll on anyone trying to use the gate which meant merchants would bleed money into his pockets for several times the amount the witch was asking for. It was a fantastic deal that would make both sides rich.

He still nitpicked on the price of precious metals because he could not afford to agree on the spot. The bishop grumbled.

“Sir, I would advise against… premature decisions. With this…”

Pain in his fucking ass.

Sangor didn’t have to intervene, which he was still reluctant to do. Instead, the bone abomination everyone called a war golem but Sangor suspected was just a little bit more than that, surged to its feet. Deployed, the creature was a gaunt, twisted entity taller than the tallest man with fingers ending in sharp knives. A voice like a snarl emerged from the engraved skull.

//Diplomatic immunity does not cover clear insults.

//Watch your tongue.

//Or I will extract it from your broken jaws.

For an instant, the dichotomy between the polite gathering and the presence of the golem became too much to bear for his fraying composure. A voice screamed in his mind that out of the five ‘people’ facing him, only Lady Azar and Sidjin were technically human. The witch’s upsetting eyes and strange shoulder blades demonstrated that the rest of her features were just a mask. He could feel the mage control sphere, the space around them where they could control mana with as much ease as within their bodies, from across the table. And all of this was only the second most powerful tool in her arsenal.

The most powerful tool was how normal she made it seem.

And she didn’t realize it.

Rollo, a knight who could have found employment anywhere in the northern cities, stood guard while Sidjin, one of the continent’s best war mages, lounged comfortably in his seat. They were calm. And that was crazy, absolutely insane to him. For decades, Kazar had been a dot on the map, and afternote in books on the deadlands. And now an army of several different races using long-dead techniques and war machines the likes of which Param had never seen assaulted the deadlands for its plunder, pushing the curse back and turning the liberated soil into farms. All of that under the rule of an outlander elemental who might just be a little insane, whose ideas challenged everything they believed about governance. And they didn’t question it. They didn’t question how implausible this all was, and how if he’d not seen it with his bare eyes, he would never have believed. More than ten thousand refugees had crossed the forest in the past year alone and still more waited in Anelton for the witch gates to clear again. And some of those people could vote for actual representatives and those representatives themselves voted on things like taxes and this was accepted by her. It was actually a thing that they believed in and it worked and this was absolutely, completely out of this world. A dragon was the bloody heir to the bloody throne! What was next? Merl soldiers? Kark? A dragon minister? He didn’t know and he was afraid that this was all. Absolutely. Possible.

Suddenly, Sangor just wanted to go back home to Losserec and leave the witch problem to someone else.

Viv watched the group of four debating the merits of Lady Azar’s sweet, sweet trap. Sangor seemed intrigued. Yrlin looked over his shoulder, skimming over the list while a hand remained protectively over her belly. The bishop still seethed in his armor while Milderry gobbled more meat, obviously bored out of his mind. She took another bite as well, the delicious juice titillating her palate.

She was feeling great.

They were falling for one of the oldest tricks in the book.

She would simply make it far too costly for others to invade her.

If Enoria had a trade network that relied on her, older means of transportation like caravans would disappear due to a lack of profitability. Resources would be transferred elsewhere. Caravan hands would operate in smaller groups. Maybe guards would transfer somewhere else. And then, attacking her would mean that the network would fall into disrepair when the spell inevitably weakened. That would paralyze the entire Enorian trade industry for at least a while, until they rebuilt the caravan network. Add that to her improving army and the alliance and she was becoming too painful to erase.

Her attention returned to Bishop Reno. He was still glaring daggers at her. And testing her patience.

“The clergy of Maranor doesn’t hold you in great esteem,” Sangor said without looking.

“Why? Is it because I’ve killed some of your priests? Don’t take it personally, I’ve killed a lot of priests. From Gomogog, Octas, Efestar, you name it.”

The Bishop was now on the verge of apoplexy. Viv had only named dark gods.

“And Neriad,” Sangor added drily.

Viv and Solfis replied in unison.

“He perished in the mine and the cause of death was determined to be mole monsters.”

//He perished in the mine and the cause of death was determined to be mole monsters.

“Squee.”

“YOU HEATHENS!”

“What the esteemed bishop means is that you have caused considerable damage to the cause by slaying champions that Maranor held in high regard,” Sangor added.

“During a negotiation,” the bishop forced out between gritted teeth.

Viv got a very strong feeling about the whole interaction.

And that strong feeling was that Sangor didn’t want to be here. The only person who apparently wanted to be here was the bishop. It was an interesting tidbit. Most of the time, someone sympathizing with her didn’t mean they would actually act on those sympathies. It was up to her to exploit this opportunity.

“This arrangement seems profitable to us both, especially if the Baranese agree.”

“I have an unofficial agreement with them to do so.”

“I agree in theory though I will only sign tomorrow after I have had time to consider the question.”

“Would you consider attending my coronation as well? It will happen very soon.”

“Not a chance,” Sangor replied with a pointed look while the Bishop reflexively flexed his blade hand.

Viv knew this was a tall order but she’d hoped.

“To be perfectly honest, we will only recognize you as an independent entity if we are the last ones in the continent to do so. No amount of money or teleportation will convince the wounded pride of my more conservative supporters. The humiliation that came with the deaths of Lancer and Tarano still lingers. I already shove arrows into invasion proposals every month. Do not push your luck.”

“The gates might turn opinions in your favor,” Yrlin said. “Walking can be so tedious. Especially for me!”

“The opinion of Goodmothers might not sway the entire land,” Sangor told her in a tactful, low voice.

“Well my Goodmother opinion better sway yours,” the Archwitch of thorns replied.

Viv waited while Sangor came to the painful realization he’d walked right into that one.

“Hm. I don’t suppose you would be interested in a reunification?” he finally said though it was clear he didn’t believe it could be done.

“Is this a marriage proposal?” Viv asked. “Just kidding. Please do not look at me like that, Yrlin, I am not poaching.”

“Oh I would refuse it myself even if the nobles could tolerate a witch on the throne. The expectations they have of their wives! Dreadful.”

“Just so, though I anticipated you might ask and so I have prepared a little something.”

Viv gestured for Lady Azar to give them a sheaf of paper. The old baroness had a twinkle in her eyes that Viv knew she shared. Sangor read the first lines with much curiosity before his face fell into an expression of tired suffering. He passed the document to Milderry who went into a full belly laugh.

“The condition under which Enoria will be allowed to rejoin the Harrakan Empire,” he finally forced between two chuckles.

The discussion went on for a while after that though the tone was more casual. They smoothed a few aspects of the agreement, then Sangor requested a particularly heinous criminal to be turned over which Viv agreed on provided the clergy of Neriad determined he was guilty. The King of Enoria left shortly after, taking great care to help his paramour stand up. Milderry complained that they couldn’t stay for dinner until Viv invited him for a visit any time he wanted. The Enorian expedition left the plain over the following hour. The Harrakans watched them leave with various degrees of satisfaction.

“I believe much better terms could have been agreed upon with better knowledge of Sangor’s situation. We must consider a spy network with all haste,” Lady Azar noted, thoughtful.

“It went pretty well,” Viv replied.

“Is that so?”

“Nobody died. Therefore, it went pretty well.”

Sidjin stood up at that.

“Having seen Viv in action, I regretfully say that I find this statement accurate. Viv darling, will I get points for helping you stand up?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then allow me to carry this situation using other means.”

With an amused smile, Sidjin picked up a rolled parchment from Yrlin’s seat. He unfolded it with great care before presenting its contents to the Ascender.

“Please meet us in Arleton tonight around midnight, behind the blacksmith shop. Be discreet.”

“Aha, looks like we might get better terms after all,” Viv said.

The last of the Enorian knights crossed the portal which closed without issue. A great clamor rose from the ranks of the Harrakan army. Screams, jeers, and the ululating taunt of the witchpacts filled the smoky air with vindictive merriment.

“See? They agree with me,” Viv continued. “It went very well.”

The portal popped and Viv took a deep breath. A week on foot crossed in an instant. Above them, the stars were clear while it had been cloudy in the forest. The air smelled different and the mana was much weaker. Solfis stopped by her side.

//We have arrived.

“Who are you? Oh, Lady Viv?” one of two sentinels asked, spears extended.

Viv sighed and raised a hand.

“I solemnly swear I harbor no ill intentions and do not intend to harm anyone in anyway during my visit tonight.”

With her other hand, she grabbed for a purse and removed a few silver bits.

“I’ll also make it worth your while if you keep my visit to yourself.”

“You are trying to bribe us?” the first guard asked, passably offended.

“I am trying to compensate you for something you’ll do no matter what,” Viv replied with a pointed gaze.

The second guard elbowed the first.

“For the love of Sardanal, shut the fuck up and take the money because her next argument’s gonna be the golem.”

//Very astute.

“Right. You can go, we won’t tell. Just… don’t mess things up, alright?”

“Naturally.”

Viv cloaked in mana infused with the shadow meaning. She and Solfis raced to the palisade surrounding a newly rebuilt Anelton with good speed. They stopped at a section of wall between two sleepy sentries and scaled it, and by that, Viv meant that she grabbed onto Solfis and he crawled up like the world deadliest centipede. The two dropped down behind the inn and moved up before a drunk patron might come across them on his way to the loo. Like two skulking shadows, they jumped over fences, scaring the occasional dog.

“I feel very naughty about the whole thing.”

//It better not be sexual.

“Why is everything always leading back to sex with you?”

The golem only growled in reply and Viv enjoyed that rare and fugacious ‘gotcha’ until they reached their destination. The back of the smith’s house was empty, crates piled up on dying grass. Viv immediately noticed the mana exuding from a nearby shed. She dropped her own spell first.

“We’re here. Come out.”

The shed fell apart, the wood turning into spiked branches before being absorbed back into the earth. Viv had to admit, it was a neat trick that required excellent control. Sangor and Yrlin stood in the clearing, looking a little red. Sangor cleared his throat.

“Right. Yes. No one knows we are here so let’s make this short. About fifteen years ago, I married my first wife and we had a child together back when I was but a squire in the duke’s army.”

“Okay?” Viv said, slightly taken aback.

“My wife died in a southern raid. I sent my son to Mornyr, the City of the Gods in the north, to be apprenticed in the temple of Maranor. He has not come back yet. All my inquiries return that he wants to dedicate himself to the order. His letters speak of my need to comply with the scriptures.”

“Ah shit.”

“You see where I am going with this. He is my heir and my son. So long as he is their ‘guest’, I am at their mercy. I have pushed back as much as I dared but in the end, it cannot last. We need to get him out of there.”

“We?”

“I am under surveillance by an old and powerful order, one with a vested interest in the fate of Enoria. My nation has always worshiped Maranor before every other god but the latest developments have shaken that faith. The temple is doubling down. If you do want a peaceful eastern border, you will give me a hand.”

“I… I will consider it. After the war with Halluria.”

“If it happens, you will be called to Mornyr for the next Paramese Alliance meeting.”

“I am not opposed to helping you. It just might be… unfeasible. Your son is probably indoctrinated.”

Sangor wordlessly took a folded letter from his coat’s breast pocket, opening it with great care. Viv had a look. Several letters were circled and she noticed they were all slightly thicker than the others as if the ink was deeper. Together, they formed a single word.

Help.

“Well, I’m in. But you will recognize Harrak.”

“Done. Hell, I’ll give you a formal defensive alliance. Just… be careful. The Church of Maranor is moving.  There are even reports that Oleander still lives in the Shadowlands.”

“Oleander? The traveler who reached Harrak?”

“Yes, him. He’s a living legend. He’s also Maranor’s greatest living champion. If he ever returns to this continent, you will have your work cut out for you.”

“One calamity at a time, please.”

“This might not happen for a very long time. Just be aware that you will need more than your current army if you want to survive. I am extending a hand in friendship. Please, do not bite it.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll save your son. And then you can finally return to Harrak in a glorious union.”

Sangor was still groaning when Viv jumped the fence.

Chapter 152: Coronation

“We cannot let the rule of law apply subjectively. The people must fear it, or they will stop respecting it. The more exceptions you create and the more fragile justice will become until judges believe they can get away with helping their ‘friends’. I have seen it happen.”

Lady Azar glared at Viv, testing her resolve and her values. Viv glared back.

It was a mess.

Being seen as a place of second chance meant that a lot of people came to Harrak. The problem was that those who needed a second chance had wasted their first shot. Sometimes, it was due to external factors. Sometimes it was because they were idiots. In a few cases, it was because they were irredeemable assholes. The end of week was hanging day in Kazar now.

The person in question was not an asshole.

Abe reclined in his seat. Contrary to Lady Azar, he had accepted Viv’s invitation to sit. He was still wearing his judge robes.

“I already had a discussion with Kerra. She bitterly regrets her actions and I believe her when she insists she wasn’t aware of the temple’s assistance program. She was starving, Viviane. She is still scarred by her treatment at the hands of her husband. Executing him meant she had no income. We cannot flog people for stealing food when the alternative—”

//That statement is untrue.

“When the perceived alternative is starvation for her and her two children. The purpose of justice is to make the world a better place. Sometimes, mercy is the best answer.”

“Mercy is extremely subjective, Viviane, and you do not want a slider on the sword of justice.”

//I agree with the Lady Azar.

//What is good for that starving woman is not good for society.

//Let her atone for her sins.

//Then the temple can help, if it wishes.

Viv traced her chest plate’s engravings with the tip of her finger. Intense arguments seldom happened. When they did, they referred to philosophical arguments on the nature of good and justice that she could not answer. There was also the question of jurisprudence or ‘case law’, laws set on precedents. She could create a precedent that stealing while starving could not be punished but, honestly, she wasn’t sure how it would all work.

Viv wasn’t a lawyer, or a philosopher, but she was a politician.

“Abe will condemn this woman according to the law but with the lightest possible punishment, then I will pardon her at the end of the coronation ceremony along with a couple of other prisoners with, let’s just say, strong attenuating circumstances. The temple can take it from there.”

The three considered the result. The law would publicly prevail then the sovereign would show mercy in her day of ascension, thus preventing a starving mother from being flogged which wasn’t anything anyone with two brain cells and a heart actually wanted to see.

“That sounds like a good compromise,” Lady Azar begrudgingly agreed. “and it would cement your reputation as a ruler of the people.”

//I approve of the manipulation of fleshbag scruples.

“Thank you, Viviane. Kerra will repay this kindness in her everyday life.”

“Excellent, now, where were we?”

Abe excused himself as the servant of Enttiku still had much work to do. Lady Azar stayed.

“Abenezigel has become a pillar of the community. Commoners flock to him for advice. His fame grows. Are you sure he will not become a threat to you in the future?” she asked.

Viv didn’t have to consider the question.

“Abe is too dedicated to peace and recovery to pursue power, even if it were offered to him on a silver platter. I doubt his goddess would tolerate a coup.”

“If you say so. I still believe he is too kind for a judge.”

“He hangs people, Azar.”

“He cries when he has to do it.”

“Tears don’t heal broken neck bones. Now, what about the coronation?”

“The Temple insists that you should spend the night before the ceremony in prayer.”

“Fine.”

The prim Baranese countess blinked, one of her stronger reactions.

“I expected resistance. You are not… the most religious person.”

“Neriad is not just our patron god, he’s a force of good. Being religious has nothing to do with it.”

“Wait… He spoke to you?”

“Yes. Great personality. Didn’t let his power get to his head. I’d fight by his side without hesitation.”

“I… I… the gods do not simply talk to people!”

“Hmm. I am not people. Don’t mean to brag, of course. And if Neriad has never spoken to you…”

“He has not.”

“Have you considered waging righteous war?”

Viv enjoyed her short gotcha moment while Lady Azar simmered in her seat. Outside, the view was clear of revenants. She’d yoinked all she could in preparation for the coronation when thousands of people would gather below the cliffs to celebrate. That much vitality in a single spot would attract any undead in the vicinity if she kept any alive. They were all set. She was almost there.

She was going to become royalty.

That was admittedly pretty fucking cool.

The French in her conjured the image of a guillotine. She was not an absolute sovereign so it would be fine, right? Also, no one needed a guillotine when the average headsman had strength in the thirties. Maybe she should introduce it just for the clout.

The in between. Viv found herself facing the golden orb that was Neriad’s massive presence. He sort of shone around, bathing his surroundings in benevolent radiance. She started feeding him mana as part of her prayer.

VERY FEW ARCHMAGES EVER PRAYED TO ME.

“You’re more of a sword guy, right?”

THERE IS THAT. SARDANAL AND NOUS WERE OUR CASTERS, BACK WHEN WE TOOK OVER.

“Could you be a little less loud?”

SIGH

“Oh, very well, mortal. But I cannot stay for long. My attention can only divide so much. Normally, we would have a long conversation on the future of your kingdom. However, I believe we are already… mostly aligned on our values and for what we are not aligned with, such as assassinating my other servants…”

“I made myself very clear.”

“I realize that I will not change your mind. Next time, pray to me first, please?”

“So you can warn him?”

“Viv. Please stop testing me. I am a god.”

“Yes, yes, sorry.”

“And speaking of gods, I believe it’s time for the temptation part. Ugh. Good luck.”

“I… wait, what?”

Something slimy grabbed Viv’s soul and pulled it back.

A cavern of obsidian surrounded Viv on all sides, jagged and raw as if carved with stone and anger. She stood over a smooth expanse of nothingness that the dim light failed to penetrate. A god in black plate armor sat atop a throne of darkness, inky hair falling over a roguishly handsome face.

Efestar’s smile possessed a self-deprecating quality that didn’t fit the God of Scorn.

“Ah,” Viv said.

“Indeed. Please excuse the hijack. After all, this is tradition.”

“Wait, really?”

“There must be a certain balance in the threads of fate, young outlander. The light gods are more than happy to let me try my luck because otherwise, the others might get a word in. Can you guess why?”

“Because you used to be pals?”

“No. Try again. After all, we have all night and time here flows rather leisurely.”

“Hmm. Oh. People on the verge of coronation do not harbor much scorn in their heart?”

“Wrong again, though you are getting closer. I am not sought to experience scorn. I am sought to remedy it.”

“Kings have power.”

“In theory, yes. Someone who expects to gain power seldom feels like bargaining their lives for a little more. They prefer to take possession, first. So here we are, at the summit of your might, on the verge of your triumph, and I am supposed to try and convince you to give it all up while the list of people you do scorn tends to remain remarkably short.”

“I do try to wipe those names off.”

“So I have gathered.”

The God of Scorn sat back in his throne and folded one leg over the other. He had greaves with tiny skulls on the knee. It was kind of tacky, if she had to be honest.

“Hmmm. We could discuss something else if you want?”

Efestar’s dark eyes widened in surprise, then he laughed out loud.

“What? No threats? No defiant statement of belief on truth and justice? You want to talk instead?”

“Why not? I bet Octas isn’t a great conversationalist.”

“Viviane. Last time, you called me a cunt. What would we even talk about?”

“How about you? I’m sure you would find the topic interesting.”

Viv sat on her haunches. It was a symbolic gesture since she was pretty sure she was still just a soul. In the in between, symbols mattered.

“Why don’t you tell me about your adventures? Before you split from the group.”

“You mean, before they reneged on their agreement and cast me away?”

“Sure.”

Efestar looked, really looked at Viv. Having the full focus of the dark god on her felt like being flung off a mountain into the gaping maw of a titanic creature, the oppressive weight gathering around her for a ravenous, crushing bite.

“Woah woah woah. Please calm down.”

“You are genuinely asking? If this is another trick…”

“Yes I am genuinely asking.”

“Viviane the Outlander, you hate the dark gods. I do not believe for a single second that you would genuinely care about poor little me.”

“First, you’re not like the other dark gods because you come from the newer generation. And second, I’m just curious what turned you into such a rabid asshole.”

The pressure intensified until Viv felt her consciousness unraveling. Any second now, Efestar would flick her forehead, sending her back to her body with a splitting headache.

He didn’t.

His cruel face morphed into a rictus, then a jarring laugh that scared Viv more than the threats had.

“I can see why the others like you. It has been so long since I have felt like a person. Soul worship can become a trap that forces us into patterns, you see? Very well. A tale. A long time ago, a man decided that he wanted to be more than a tribe chief, more than a hero. That man wanted to become the greatest hunter who ever lived. He wanted to become… a legend. And that man was…”

“You?”

“No. It was Emeric.”

“Ah.”

“Emeric had something that all other hunters lacked. You see, no matter how cunning the traps or how sharp the spear, at some point, a hunter will be caught off guard or make a single mistake. Except for Emeric.”

“He never ran out of luck.”

“So it was,” Efestar said as he reclined in his seat.

The God of Scorn’s voice took in a strange intonation, as if he were a poet declaiming stanzas and this despite the fact they were not actually talking with their voices. The uncanny sensation did little to distract her from the tale. An image superimposed itself on the sitting god, speaking from his lonely throne.

Emeric was handsome, cocksure, and genuinely competent. He wore a leather cape made from the skins of a hundred beasts, going from tribe to tribe to search for more prey to pursue and more women to ravish. As his skills and power grew, so did his legend until bears and triffids and giant turtles were no longer enough. He needed to hunt the genuine tyrants of the plains and forests, those the tribes feared and avoid like natural disasters. No human could do so, at least not alone, so Emeric listened to the offers of the gods… and he liked none of them.

The gods were jealous things who reveled in sacrifices. Only those who pledged themselves to them would receive their costly blessings. What saved Emeric was his incredible arrogance.

Because Emeric, the blessed, the one of many kills, the one of many amorous conquests, the man whose luck never ran out, wanted to become a legend on his own merit.

And so, with the magic of the world behind him, he set out to gain power. He found allies. Neriad was the first, a famous war chief himself who rushed into battle using a shell as shield. The twins were next. Maranor used a short spear to devastating effects while Maradoc scouted with great talent, a whisper of a shadow under the boughs. Sardanal was found on a drifting ship off the northern coast. Nous was an isolated hermit dedicated to the development of the magical arts, especially runes. Efestar was an assassin, settling blood debts with the poison of his darts. There were many more but most died during the journey and their names faded into obscurity.

As Emeric’s people slew more beasts, their fame rose until it rivaled the gods themselves. Nyil’s magic fed them and gave them unnaturally long lifespans so they cleared more land and the tribes thrived in their wake. The hunters were cunning and deadly, patient and implacable. They could seemingly not be stopped. It was not enough. Emeric knew they could do better if only they had better tools.

“Tools?” Viv interrupted.

For a moment, the image faded and Viv was back to being a small soul in the in-between. Efestar was a dark shape covered with hypnotic shiny dots of light. Behind that distracting shape was a terrible stinger of stellar proportions.

The vision reappeared. It centered on a fierce contest. Emeric’s band fought against a shelled creature with unusual wolfish features. Their javelins and bolas smacked against the beast’s flanks to no effect until they finally managed to overwhelm its defenses by hitting the eyes. Emeric cried over the corpse of a long-haired amazon of a woman, her quiver empty of silex arrows.

Tools. They needed better weapons. And Nous knew where to find it.

Someone had made a sword out of meteoritic iron.

His name was lost to the fog of history but his work remained. Now, Emeric had tools the likes of which this world had never seen and the knowledge on how to make them spread across the tribes like wildfire. Bronze. Iron. Enchantments. Nous taught his spells to every shaman willing to listen. Safe grazing grounds and fields grew in number over decades until the influence of the priests waned and, in the bowels of the lone mountain, they plotted their revenge. One fateful night, killers came after the heroes during a feast.

It was a slaughter.

The heroes might have been disarmed but they had followers and skill aplenty. The families of those slain that day paved a path of death and vengeance that created the first, the very first, true human war. Not skirmishes. Not raids. War.

Years of merciless battle followed.

Those who worshiped the gods who had protected humanity for eons fought against Emeric’s band, the legends who wanted to usher mankind into a new era. Those who feared they might lose everything faced those who wanted more. Their enmity could not be reconciled. The fights were to the death. Roving warriors wiped entire tribes to the last child. Hatred and resentment built until only one side would remain and, slowly, that resentment united the survivors behind Emeric, for the servants of the god burned with fanaticism, and they stopped at nothing to succeed.

Slowly, the balance of power tipped in favor of Emeric.

The heroes fought with their own power, using mighty tools while the gods fought through their servants. After countless trials, Emeric’s army finally reached the fortress sanctuary of Lone Mountain for one decisive battle. They stormed the complex and slaughtered the priests, defiling the altars and casting down the holy statues. They broke the power of the gods that day. There was a great celebration for mankind was wary and weakened, and the tribes longed for peace. Emeric would not have it. He knew it could only end one way. He knew the gods would fight back from the bogs and deep forests, whispering tender lies in the ears of the unfortunate. So he devised a plan.

Maranor would slay the gods with her meteoritic iron sword turned artifact: the Slayer. A weapon to kill the unkillable. In her hands, it could pierce through any defenses.

Emeric decided they would not scale the mountains where, it was said, the gods resided. Instead, he called them one by one upon the land where legend said they were born. There, Maranor slew her first immortal. The Old Eater was next, though it is said part of him could have survived. After that. Octas and Gomogog forfeited their thrones and left in exile, condemned to skulk at the edges of mankind for all of eternity. Only Enttiku remained. The cowled one brokered a deal for only the peace of death was of concern to them. And the band accepted.

All except for one.

With a void needed to be filled, Emeric became the king, the God of Luck whose name was on every lip and whose temples were gambling dens, dueling fields, the tip of the arrow aimed at a hunter’s quarry. Neriad picked up the sword of righteous war. Maranor took on the mantle of hierarchy. Sardanal favored the growth of crops, of families, of relationships. Maradoc veiled the secrets and knowledge of the world, as well as those who would seek it. Nous sacrificed himself to grant choice to humanity. Only Efestar was without a path, for his mantle was death and that mantle remained firmly upon Enttiku’s shoulders. In desperation, Efestar pulled the only thing he had left, the emotion that had carried him through the death of his family and the slaughter of his tribe.

Efestar became the god of scorn.

His old companions had turned their back on him for the sake of peace, the same companions who had sworn vengeance by his side on the funeral pyres of his sons.

Because they feared Enttiku and the destruction that one may wreak.

The impressions faded, slowly, until Viv was left panting in front of the throne. Efestar was like a statue. He appeared bored but Viv wasn’t duped. It was a facade, a fragile one.

He had not lied. That tale was the truth. One could not truly lie here, not when exposing their heart as he had.

“Well?” the armored monster said, “No quip? No barbs?”

A memory surged in Viv’s mind, that of a tiny body engulfed in flames while Neriad’s hand gripped his shoulder. That had been the low point of Efestar’s life. The lowest point. He wanted to die, then, but Neriad had stopped him. They had promised. They had all promised and then…

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m really sorry. It was horrible.”

“You mean it.”

An immense pressure washed over Viv’s soul in a tidal wave until she was an egg in the fist of a cruel child. Efestar could mangle her soul now. Perhaps the rules of this place forbade him to kill her, yet it didn’t matter. They both knew there were fates worse than death.

“YOU PITY A DARK GOD? YOU PITY ME?”

“Yes, yes, damn you. Stop that. Please?”

The pressure lessened though Viv was not yet off the hook.

“Look… I don’t look down upon you, far from it. I just think… you were dealt a low blow. By people you trusted. I feel that.”

“Are you going to be like Neriad, tell me that I am only spreading more pain with every life I twist and that it will not bring me my Caeno back? My Irkal? Will you tell me I have to let go?”

“Did they make amends?”

The pressure lessened and Viv fell on her knees.

“Amends?”

“Yeah… Did they… did they apologize? Did they offer… weregild? Another seat?”

Silence spread over the abyssal throne room. It did so for a very long time.

“No. They didn’t.”

“What? That’s so unexpected. Especially from Neriad.”

The dark god’s throne room shuddered. The double image of the obsidian cave and the planetary scorpion shape of Efestar’s soul superimposed, then Viv was pushed away.

The blast felt like it should have shattered her in a million fragments. Souls were impressively resilient, apparently.

WHAT HAPPENED?

The nearby sun that was Neriad pulsed strangely.

“I think he’s flustered.”

DARK GODS ARE MEANT TO INSTILL DOUBT IN MORTAL MINDS.

NOT THE OPPOSITE.

WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HIM?

“Did you really make an oath to Efestar to avenge his children by killing the gods… and then you didn’t?”

IT… IS COMPLICATED.

“How is it complicated? Did you break your oath or not?”

Neriad sighed a large solar eruption, blanketing Viv’s soul with images of benevolent light. The ghost memories of suffering families flooded her mind.

“I swore to avenge them, to avenge him. And I did. And I still do every time I combat the old gods. Enttiku had nothing to do with it. Emeric said… he said that the future of mankind was more important than any oath, than any of us. He said that if we fought Enttiku, we might die and fail, all of us, and then there would be no one left to guide and defend humanity. She is still that dangerous. By the time we found Efestar again, he was long gone. You have not suffered from his viciousness yet so you cannot know. You cannot understand the evil he has dealt upon us and upon the people of Nyil. Entire villages fell because a man sacrificed his daughter to kill his neighbor. I see this and… I wish I had killed him. Right as we ascended.”

“You think he’s too far gone?”

IT NO LONGER MATTERS.

“Ow ow ow.”

“Apologies, Viviane. He has done the unforgivable a hundred times over. He has become a monster, worse even than those he sought to destroy because he knows better and he still spreads misery. You cannot bridge the gap between us.”

“Ok I admit that I am not one of his victims so it’s easy for me to take a calm look at this. And it’s a little hypocritical because I was the first to slay Lancer instead of, for example, ransoming him, however…”

Viv pondered her next words because it was a very, very risky thing to do and she was on thin ice.

“Would you not say…”

BE CAREFUL.

“Would you not say that the future of mankind is more important than the grudge you hold?”

ME DAMMIT.

The sun blasted Viv’s soul. The uncontrolled burst didn’t scorch her but it was a close thing.

YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT.

I SHARED THE PAIN OF THOUSANDS OF VICTIMS WHO LOST EVERYTHING IN THE NAME OF PETTY VENGEANCE.

HE HAS BECOME EVERYTHING I HAVE FOUGHT TO DESTROY.

“But can he change?”

VIVIANE.

YOU…

INFURIATING LITTLE HUMMINGBIRD.

CONSIDER THE NIGHT OF DOUBT AND REFLECTION OVER.

YOU WON.

NOW PISS OFF.

Viv was flung back into her body by a gentle backhand. She collapsed forward onto the marble of Neriad’s temple and threw up everything her stomach contained, then some bile, then she dry wretched for another solid ten minutes. She wished she had an axe to smash her brain open so it wouldn’t hurt so much.

“You… you debate team sorest fucking losers.”

In his hall, Neriad stopped his blade dance and planted his sword in the sand. He bent his head. For one moment, the mantle shifted, letting old memories resurface. Memories of a time before ascension when victory was but a distant dream and the band was held together by little more than Emeric’s unfailing belief. It had been a simpler time. Despite everything, it had also been a much darker time.

The memories of funeral pyres holding the bodies of children invaded his mind like an unwelcome guest.

“Fuck!”

It was the day of the coronation. Viv thanked her lucky star (just this time) that physical stats helped against the equivalent of a divine hangover. The nation’s best tailors adjusted her black, white, and gold dress, then Gogen herself did her hair in a nice part-flowing part-braided style. They also used a colorful makeup made of crushed stone for her eyes to accentuate their ‘unique charm’. She looked great and resolved to do it more often. After that, she was off at dawn to join her knight escort.

As nobles, the knights claimed the head of the formation and Viv saw no need to alter that tradition. They would accompany Viv to the Sinur’s Gate’s temple where she would be crowned. Viv reached the brand new knight’s compound, finding Rollo alone in a garden of blue roses and young trees covered in dew. The armored knight was a striking sight in this colorful landmark, the black of his armor offering a contrast to the enchanting decor. It was only when Viv watched the many stellae standing around the garden that her heart stopped.

She recognized them.

They were Solfis’ gift.

“Ah, here you are, Your Grace. Soon to be Your Majesty.”

Viv walked to the tall man as he inspected a particularly moving chapter of the ‘Gladiators of Harrak’, the Old Empire foremost work of homoerotic romance saved from annihilation by horny golem engineers.

“I wanted to thank you for this gift you gave us,” Rollo said, pointing at the stellae. His square jaw trembled with emotion.

“For most of my life, I had to hide and live a life of lies. Those days, my dearest wish was to be accepted, to be tolerated. You showed me that my dream was a small one.”

It was an important moment and Viv nodded solemnly, deciding to bury forever that Solfis had written the story so Viv could have private moments of ‘intellectual stimulation’ at the ‘thought-provoking contents’. Some details were best forgotten.

“The Gladiators of Harrak is a powerful reminder that the love I feel can be not just tolerated, but also celebrated as a true, pure emotion worthy of recognition. We loving, consenting adults deserve more than tolerance, we deserve acceptance, first and foremost acceptance of the self, by the self. That you managed to save this opus magnum of literature from the ashes of the catastrophe speaks in your favor Viviane the outlander. You reminded me that survival is a necessity but art is what truly makes us humans. From the hands of the ancients, we receive those powerful tales with eternal gratitude, and we shall perpetuate that tradition with our own efforts until the plains bloom with a thousand flowers and a thousand poems set in stone for those who would follow.”

Rollo was now crying manly tears though not a sob shook his handsome face, still as solemn as a tomb effigy. Viv gripped his shoulder in silence because she couldn’t trust herself not to say something stupid. He returned her gesture, crushing her trapezius muscles in a death grip.

The remaining thirty knights joined them at this moment in an effusion of manly hugs until Viv herself felt touched. Rollo’s paramour then presented Viv with a rolled battle standard.

“A new dawn is upon us. We want to forge a new knight order from the hope of the old and for this, we ask your blessing, Viviane. We ask that you recognize the Order of the Blue Roses as the Harrakan body of knights, and in return, we will serve you faithfully until death. And before you ask, yes, the straight members agreed on the name,” he finished with a chuckle.

“I want thorns on my pauldrons,” the knight whose children were recently healed by Viv said.

Viv unfolded the pennant. It showed a trio of blue roses blooming on a black field, a good representation of the knights who themselves wore black armor decorated with colorful clothes to show their status. It was pretty nice.

“Very well. Kneel.”

The knights, as one, took a knee with their swords in their hands, tips on the garden’s soil.

“Do you swear to defend Harrak and its people, to protect the innocent, to punish the guilty and to uphold the law?”

Various affirmations came in enthusiastic disorder.

“Then I name you all Knights of the Blue Rose. May you fight without fear, triumph without arrogance and die without regret.”

Viv manifested a massive Excalibur and saluted which was symbolic enough for the knights. The ride to the city was made quickly and soon, they were in sight of Sinur’s Gate.

Hundreds of people were there laying tables and erecting tents, and thousands more were expected throughout the day. It would be a grand celebration. The fires of cooking pits already filled the air with the scent of fresh bread and roasting meat. Cooks diced vegetables and tubers by the dozens with great speed. Many folks stopped and turned when she passed but they didn’t salute, not yet. There was an electrifying sense of anticipation in the air as they knew they were on the verge of a historical event.

Viv rode up the slope at a good trot, then past the monumental gate and through the narrow streets of Sinur’s Gate. Flowers adorned every bridge, fell from every window in a floral storm that overcame even the dry smell of the nearby deadlands. It had been less than a year since the city had returned to the hands of the breathing, yet the scars of the devastation were now patched over and only showed the wear and tear of a town well lived in, old and cozy but with a temper. Moss grew on the cracks while old fountain statues gurgled fresh water over white lilies. The blue roses of Harrak bloomed everywhere as a display of hope and defiance. Burly smiths, patient woodworkers, musicians, rich merchants and artisans glutted their street on the way to the temple building which was on one side of the palace. Viv stopped and dismounted near the gates then she found her seat on the high benches at the edge of the main room. Most of her friends and companions were already seated. Lady Azar nodded after a brief inspection of her clothes. Sidjin stood, proud as hell.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Why thank you, consort. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Squee!”

“You look absolutely great. I love your ribbons.”

They waited a few minutes for people to come in. They ran out of seats very soon so Viv had her One Hundred get people to stand on the sides, leaving only a single lane to exit. They began on time.

Viv watched Farren lead his congregation in prayer. It felt weird to be crowned by the clergy when her own nation had enshrined the separation of Church and State in 1905 and staunchly defended it ever since. She told herself she was on a first name basis with the god in question so… it was probably okay. She just hoped the statue would not cry blood during her vows as a vengeance for her little transgression. Thankfully, no such a thing happened. Viv fed a massive dose of mana into the god with a whispered ‘hope you’re okay friendo’ and received an exasperated sigh in reply. Business as usual. The ceremony culminated with the coronation itself.

Viv walked down the aisle with Sidjin and Solfis by her side. The back of the temple held an altar. Lorn was there in the regalia of a temple guard, sword on display. He seemed flushed. Farren also wore official robes. Viv felt vertigo. Those were people she knew, people she’d met as a transient witchling recovering from her deadland stints. They’d known her since she was a nobody and now, they were the vanguard of humanity’s effort to reclaim the land. They stood there as not just old allies but symbols of a new nation. Farren was on the verge of tears, his voice breaking over the vows.

“Do you… swear to uphold the rule of law, to show mercy towards the defenseless, and not to compromise with evil?”

“I do.”

“With the power granted to me by the state, and with Neriad’s blessing, I name you, Viviane Saint-Lys, the traveler… Empress of Harrak. May you make the world a better place.”

He removed the crown from its pillow. It was a sober thing of bone and silver, a warrior’s crow with horns like Arthur’s designed to be inserted in a helmet. It only bore basic enchantments because Viv intended to build a better one in the future. For now, it was more a promise than the symbol of a powerful state. It bore no jewels, for Viv didn’t need any. She didn’t need the mantle of wealth or august majesty to rule. She was Empress because of actions, hers and that of the ones sharing her dream, and they followed her because of them.

When she turned, she was met with a sea of gazes. There were at least two hundred people crammed in the small temple. They watched her with bated breath, waiting for her word. They believed. They looked like they believed so hard that Viv started to believe as well.

She moved her hand, taking control of a nearby sound enchantment. Her leadership skill bolstered her voice into one that inspired trust.

“I am now, by mandate of the people, your empress. We all know this is only the beginning and that we are not an empire just yet. I will not talk about all that is left to do. You know the dream as well as I do, the dream of a green Harrak. Instead, I will turn to the past. We are all here because we walked the path of courage. Perhaps you were there in the beginning, tilling fields in view of revenants. Perhaps you lived in the mountains in the hope of one day reclaiming your homeland. Perhaps you braved everything to cross the forest. Perhaps you had nothing to lose or perhaps you sacrificed everything. Perhaps you lost loved ones, for there were many who died to bring us where we are. Perhaps you came here because you wanted a new life, or because you wanted to fight, or to love, or perhaps you wanted a safe haven for your family. Perhaps you came here to heal yourself or a spouse or a child. What matters is that we all stand, today, as one people.

“As we take the final step to define ourselves as a nation, I want to tell you all, well done. This is your day as much as it is mine. This crown I wear represents the pinnacle of all the efforts and pain we have been through. I will ask you a favor. Leave the dream for tomorrow. Today, we celebrate the present, this precious moment of triumph we have grabbed with our bloody hands. Rejoice. Feast. Drink. Love, Dance, and be merry. Come and greet your friends. Raise a glass to my health. Above all, be happy. That is my wish of you for the coronation.”

The cheers confirmed that it was a plan the Harrakans could approve of.

Your leadership has massively improved.

Leadership has reached Intermediate 1

You have gained a new title: Empress of Harrak

Viv smiled as she took her first step as genuine, god-approved royalty. The people touched her when she walked out, greeting them as she went. Outside, the entire town’s population roared their approval at being part of something they were building with their own two hands. Their fervor made Viv’s ears ring. Exhilaration and terror warred in her heart. They were her responsibility now. They were also here for her as she was there for them.

Viv walked down the alleys of Sinur’s Gate, enjoying the purified air. The city was ablaze with colors and with life. All the people she knew were here as Arthur took to the sky, roaring her approval to the delight of the children. The march down the path was a long one because she stopped to greet people, shaking their hand and holding their children to cement the alliance they had all made. When she looked beyond the cliff, she could see the green land they had cleared and the ten thousand people waiting there.

In dense groups, like a shifting sea, they moved around to search for food or for company, or approached the landing, or they toiled on the feast. It was a lot, ten thousand souls seen from above until they merged into a pulsating, living whole, a crowd whose members had all decided to come here. Viv wondered if famous rock stars back on earth felt that pressure of so much attention. The difference was that here, they believed in her to do more than make them dream. They counted on her to make that dream a reality or they would most likely die.

“There are so many of them,” Viv wondered.

//Not yet.

//But there will be.

“It feels so intimidating.”

//And there are no assassins.

//So far.

//A pleasant surprise.

“Aw nobody hates me.”

//We will have to remedy that.

The descent continued onto a central square where they finally stopped. Viv stood on an elevated platform while the different groups of the army marched, swearing fealty to the crown and Harrak. Viv greeted them all while the crowd celebrated the warriors holding the line against the constant undead threat. Once more, her round shield was borrowed to add new plates onto the already overloaded tool. It was probably more than three times heavier than it used to be anyway. Following that, Viv headed a nice banquet while Arthur went from table to table to demand offerings claiming that it tasted better if it was ‘requisitioned’. People drank and made merry for the whole day. Viv greeted everyone who came as a line formed. She spoke until her voice threatened to give out. There were still people coming when night fell.

They had a good time.

As usual, there were clouds on the horizon but for now, they were at peace, enjoying the triumph while it lasted.

Chapter 153. Extra Diplomatic

Viv approached the supine form of the dragoness with measured steps. By her side, the smoldering remains of a corpse still let out ribbons of smoke drifting in the cool morning air. A human corpse. He looked burnt to the nineteenth degree. Hell, Mount Vesuvius wouldn’t have done a better job.

This was a little bad.

Viv sat by Arthur’s side and watched the morning sun rise over distant woods. Active dots peppered the renewed land as they tilled the fields. From this far, the purple tree of Kazar appeared almost tiny, merely a dot that used to mark the edge of the deadlands but now remained as a greeter to newcomers looking for a new life. The dead man had been one of them. It was too bad the life he’d been searching for was one of crimes. It was even more unfortunate he had targeted the wrong person. Terminally unfortunate.

I do not understand.

Viv patted the smooth scales over Arthur’s tail, the heat they emitted quite intense.

He stole from me.

He planned to steal from me.

How can someone be so stupid?

“I’m sorry to say but, as we say back on my planet, the creator has not seen it fit to evenly distribute the gift of intelligence. Some people are just deeply incompetent. Some people are just evil. Not a lot of them, thankfully, but enough to ruin your day at some point. There is nothing anyone can do about those people except managing them.”

We should kill them all.

“How do you identify them? Where do you draw the line? Don’t answer that, it was a metaphorical question. No, you cannot kill them because justice needs to mostly be impartial. I can’t kill people because they annoy me.”

What about that, then?

Am I in trouble for killing without your leave?

They are your minions.

I was just… so angry.

“You know, we’ll just call robbing someone who just came out of your bank, suicide by dragon.”

Does that work?

“I mean who would complain? That would be suicide by dragon.”

Arthur sighed deeply. Her spirits were low, despite the recovery of her valuables.

How do you deal with idiots and assholes?

“Easy. I hire competent underlings who do it for me.”

You offload unpleasant work to your minions!

As expected, mother has brilliant solutions to every problem.

Would the minions not complain, however?

“Of course but then you have angry minions who have power over assholes since I put the minions in charge, and then the situation usually solves itself.”

Mother is cunning.

“Are you ready to return? I think we’re on someone’s field and they might be scared.”

Alright.

I will return to the bank.

Much to do!

“You do that. And if you feel like you need a break, I am sure our next adventure will come knocking soon enough.

Viv watched the message laid in front of her with some measure of consternation.

Adventure was here.

Jaratalassi’s letter was expected. She had been counting on it since he had warned her he would need her help. The spark of luck never disappointed. The problem was the end of said message.

“Viviane,

Things moving as expected. Enemy forces coming from the east soon, possibly next month. Will need all the help you can bring. NOT Hallurians.”

Not Hallurians.

The Old Empire’s borders stopped at the marches of Halluria, with even the most war-like emperor giving up on invading that unforgiving land. They knew that to take and hold Hallurian cities would be a costly endeavor with no reward for the Hallurians fought to the last and used any means at their disposal.. And now, foes were coming from that shithole country… from the other side? That would require an insane military as well as a will to conquer that defied all logic. Unless those were space aliens or a colony of invasive man-sized spiders that reproduce by laying eggs in chest cavities. She wondered what fuckery the world had in store for her unpadded buttocks this time.

Sighing, she reached for a nearby pen. It snapped between her fingers, spraying ink across her desk. And the letter.

“Nous fucking dammit.”

“We need to decide who goes and who stays,” Viv told the assembly gathered in her throne room.

She had a cool throne and a crown now, which was kind of nice.

“The One Hundred will come,” Ban assured with certainty.

“Yes, it goes without saying that the army will accompany me. The question would then be, who stays?”

“The city guards should stay,” Lady Azar said. “Some of our newcomers have been lax in their respect of the law. The same should go for our militia. They are not ready to function so far from our towns.”

“We won’t raise the militia at all. There is no guarantee we will be back before the harvest.”

“Quite so,” Lady Azar agreed.

Viv and her exchanged a glance. They both knew their finances could not suffer a poor harvest. Without the tons of grain they were expecting, Harrak would default on several contracts with Enorian customers. They needed the food and they needed the export. No laborer, no taxes.

“Half of the temple guard will stay,” Farren said.

The Voice of Neriad stood confidently. Viv hadn’t caught up with him much these days. He seemed wary of her, and quite busy too. Maybe it was the bishop assassination that bothered him? Viv wasn’t sure. She wouldn’t blame him.

“But Lorn will guide the best of us. I will come as well.”

“You will?” Viv asked, a little curious.

“My brothers and sisters will take over my duties. As a representative of Neriad, I will assist you in making helpful alliances with your peers. Friendly contacts. You will need this specific approach,” Farren finished with a very pointed look.

“That may be so.”

“Solar agreed to stay and lead a Temple Guard team against any threats that materialize, though I have contacted the border forts and there have been no signs of danger as of late.”

“Excellent. That covers the soldiers. Mages?”

“I will come, of course,” Sidjin said by her side.

“And I,” Lana agreed.

The Blue Mage glared at Viv as if defying her to object, which Viv still found inexplicable. They had trained together on the Tercio for weeks. Of course, Viv expected Lana to come.

Viv glanced at her. The mage still wore the same impeccable, flawless dress as before while the other liberated apprentices walked around the city in whatever clothes they fancied, sometimes even peasant garb which was technically below their station. Paramese society placed a lot of emphasis on one having the appearance to match their station after all.

Viv wasn’t sure what her problem was but she just didn’t have the time to find out what it was. She sighed. That was it, really. Too many capable underlings with their own agenda. Too little time. Maybe Abe could tell her more.

“The other girls will stay,” Lana continued in a voice that brooked no objection.

“And I will, as well. My place is here,” Abe said with a calming smile.

Immediately, the tension left Lana’s shoulders.

“Very well. I’m glad you’re here to hold the line. Can I count on you to assist Solar if anything happens?”

“Of course. I will continue to cleanse the deadlands in your absence. I will also make sure the ward stones are maintained as well. You can leave with a calm heart.”

Viv almost believed him.

“Oh, and I will look after Rakan’s students, of course.”

“Hmmm.”

“I will come,” the young mage assured her. “I am ready, this time.”

Viv would be a complete hypocrite to deny him at this point and besides, he had proven himself in the deadlands.

“We will be glad to have you around. That leaves us with the scouts?”

“The Hadals will come.”

A few yelps at the back heralded the appearance of a tall, gaunt figure with slitted yellow eyes. The Hadal man towered over the surrounding notables like an ominous bouncer. A black scarf covered the lower part of his face while his naked scalp shone under the morning light, the only pale note on his person. Dark cloth covered the rest of his body while a comically large axe rested on his back. The silvery blade looked enchanted. He could show up at any audition for the brutal right hand of an evil sorcerer and not only get hired, but get the role rewritten for him specifically. His appearance was just that stereotypically villainous.

//I like his style.

Come to think of it, Solfis was kind of villainous-looking as well.

Maybe Arthur too.

Could it mean that Viv, herself a sorceress trying to resurrect an evil empire from the ashes, qualified as a B-movie antagonist?

Nah. She was far too classy.

“I’m overthinking things. How many of you can we count on?”

“Six. We will handle scouting.”

“Six is few,” Lady Azar noted.

“Not six of us. We will handle scouting,” the man repeated, tension rising in his voice.

“Sure. What do I call you?”

“Zero five.”

“Ok… what about the Yries?” Viv continued to remove the attention from the Hadal before he got any more flustered.

“We come,” the Shrill leader said. “We bring wasps.”

“Good.”

“A lot of wasps.”

“Excellent. I think that was everyone, or am I missing something?”

//You are missing me.

//I will come as well.

//I will stay here while you pave the way.

//I fear my presence tends to alarm the provincials.

“We Baranese are not savages,” Lady Azar noted with resentment.

//No, you are not.

//However, I have met your forefathers, Lady Azar.

Viv swore she could see the golem smirk.

//Briefly.

//They tend to talk a lot and I tend to respond in ways that would not favor a positive diplomatic outcome.

“Indeed. The murder golem will come with the army. What about the supply train?”

That turned out to be a whole new discussion Viv had hoped she could leave to someone else. Unfortunately, there were disagreements between Lady Azar and Farren, both people who’d managed supply trains in the past.

An army didn’t just march on their stomach, they also used water and iron. In an army, everything was a consumable, including armor sets. Even the tanks would need constant care.

Farren advocated in favor of bringing rune smiths who had a much better time repairing equipment, both mundane and otherwise. Meanwhile, Lady Azar believed they should remain in Sinur’s Gate to produce more gear which could be either used to form new troops, or sold for export.

“I believe the smiths in question are all servants of Neriad…” Viv interrupted.

“True. Granted to you as a reward for service rendered,” Farren noted.

“And I believe the benefit of having them outweighs the funds they will generate if they stay. We are facing unknown attackers. We can’t afford to hold back for minor gains.”

Lady Azar consented. Viv got the impression the objection had been more of a maneuver than a real statement born from belief.

“If that is all, I will leave Harrak first, tomorrow” Viv concluded. “I still need to set up the teleporter network. I will go first with some guards and use this opportunity to establish diplomatic relations with our neighbors. You will make ready and travel as we progress. Baran promised supplies but we cannot count on it so bring what you can.”

The next day, Viv rode by the Enorian border city of Anelton, Rollo by her side alongside a contingent of Knights of the Blue Rose. Their plate armor sets looked even better now that they painted azure blooms on its dark surface. It complimented their many-colored liveries quite nicely without letting viewers forget the steel underneath. She looked at the barricaded town to her right. It was healing much faster than she’d thought as the constant and rapid trade bolstered the city’s value. Truly, the portals were a game changer for everyone involved. Between Sidjin and her, they had a massive potential for altering the entire continent.

They didn’t stop at the border city. It was still morning. She had a lot of ground to cover if she ever wanted to cross a third of a continent in time before the next shitstorm took it out. Sometimes, she wondered why she was bothering. Anything coming from the east meant Harrak would be the last one left standing…

Viv shook her head. That was a slippery slope. And there was the snowball effect to consider. Besides, she’d given her word.

“The escort should be there any minute, Your Majesty,” Rollo said with a soft voice as if they were attending a ball.”

“Thank you. Did I mention I loved the flower pattern?”

“They were drawn by my paramour.”

“You have chosen well.”

“I agree. Ah, here they are.”

Viv finally spotted a group of cavalrymen coming in at good speed. They outnumbered her detachment by a factor of three, which she was sure was a breach of etiquette. An old man with a missing arm led them. He seemed worried.

Her Knights stopped, spreading around with their visor opened but the spears in their hand. Their stand made a solid statement and Viv’s wings, which she always let out these days, made another. She allowed the silence to draw on when the Enorians stopped at a respectable distance. Their gazes went from her to her stoic bodyguards. Paradoxically, the uniformity of their enchanted armor sets lent the Harrakans the image of a more disciplined, more respectable outfit with Viv as its black-clad heart while the Enorians formed a more mismatched force of retainers of various quality. She leaned on it when she spotted the old man’s second, a younger knight with a large scar. A young mage in the center of the formation had the gall to inspect her. She inspected him in return just to let him know she wasn’t fooled. It was still considered rude to do so and he withered under her glare.

“A crown on a rebel? Must we, grandfather?” the arrogant young knight said before spitting on the ground.

Ah so they were related.

Rollo moved his steed by a few steps.

“You will apologize for your act now or meet me tomorrow morning on the field with your sword in your hand.”

A stunned, cold silence received Rollo’s matter of fact’s threat. Viv had to admit, she had seen Rollo teaching his squires and she didn’t give the sour young noble a snowball’s chance in hell to survive the ordeal. Rollo didn’t fuck around. That said, killing a scion within twenty-four hours of entering Enoria was not a habit she wanted to further develop, so she decided it was perhaps time to calm things down, especially now that Rollo had presented such a perfect opening.

“Now now, I am sure the gentleman let his… youthful enthusiasm get the better of him,” she said while the grandfather blanched, possibly seeing his bloodline quickly reaching extinction.

The old man cuffed his descendant before he could lash out again. The younger man turned to him then stopped, struck by the mix of horror and fury twisting the old man’s face into a ghastly mask of crimson skin and bulging white eyes. Viv had never seen such a powerful expression of ‘I love you and I also will hit you so help me Neriad’ without a single word being uttered. It took a good ten seconds for him to regain his composure, during which everyone waited in polite silence.

“Yes. Yes… please forgive my grandson. The war has been most cruel on Reixa. The outlaw Elix seized the city while part of my family was away, dying on the fields of Regnos. Many of us were left bereaved on that fateful day.”

“Ah, Elix, yes. We were briefly acquainted.”

The old man’s gaze grew dangerous.

“When I tore his pet gray mage to pieces in Anelton for what they did to the city.”

It was all she had to say.

Immediately, the tension dissipated. Many of the retainers nodded in approval. Viv’s dad had been right. No cause united different factions quite like shared hatred.

“No one will mourn his passing,” the old man agreed.

“May the cur rot in the afterlife!” his grandson agreed, anger successfully redirected.

“Right. You must be the Lord of Reixa.”

“Indeed I am, Ediar of Reixa. And this is my grandson and heir, Gedis. I understand that you will require our guidance to set up those… teleporters the king—”

Viv could hear the quotation mark around that word.

“— wanted across the country. Unfortunately, he left little direction.”

“Oh, the location is up to you, of course,” Viv replied amicably. “May I suggest somewhere near a location of business interest? It would make the lives of your merchants easier.”

The man frowned. Apparently, Sangor had not explained things properly.

“Our merchants?”

“Of course. The portal network will open a direct line of communication between your city and Anelton on one side, and the next duchy on the other. You may activate it and use it — and tax traffic — at your leisure. The crown will pay me for the upkeep.”

“Oh…”

Viv smiled seeing the golden glint of greed in her counterpart’s pupils. Gotcha.

“Shall we depart?” she asked.

“Hm? Yes, of course. Ride with me, woman. Tell me more about that portal.”

Viv gave one warning glare, the black sclera making a point without having to resort to real intimidation.

“If you please.”

“But of course, dear host.”

The two squads merged until they formed a hundred-men strong cavalry detachment.

The subsequent trip gave Viv a strong sensation of deja-vu. It was the second time she was following this road, the previous one being two years before during spring. She had been going to the Academy then. The mood had changed for the better since that time of troubles. The isolated villages now stood with gates open as they rode by, laborers toiling in the fields to plant seeds. Most bowed when they passed by but none ran in fear. Back then, Viv had only faced terrified refusal to even buy bread.

There were still marks of Enoria’s decline in the abandoned, isolated farmsteads they ran across. Many fields lay fallow, some overtaken by new growths and saplings. Burnt estates  still harbored hastily dug graves with poorly carved symbols of Enttiku on improvised tombstones. Elix was not the first raider to terrorize the kingdom.

“We will rebuild,” Lord Reixa said in a low tone.

“Yes. Speaking of rebuilding… would you like a new arm?”

It was as if she’d told him she was Santa Clause wearing a bra.

“You… you are serious?”

“I assume I can count on your hospitality tonight?”

“Naturally! We will honor the rites.”

“Give me enough monster meat and I can do it.”

“And… my daughter. She was stabbed in the womb. The healers said…”

“I’ll need a partner. A healer priest or priestess. They need to control the blood flow.”

“I will get you one. I will. Tell me what you want in return and I will grant it to you to the best of my abilities.”

Viv smiled. Lady Azar was wrong. She could be diplomatic when she wanted to.

Viv reached the spot chosen for the next portal two days later. The local noble had picked an isolated meadow within view of the castle, giving newcomers a pleasant outlook on the city, not least because the slums were on the other side of it. She noticed that a few catapults were currently aimed at the spot which got to show that she wasn’t the only one to understand their true potential. As requested, a brown caster had cleared the ground and raised two circular stone platforms as smooth as a palace floor. Two portals, one for the link east and the other for the link west to allow for a larger volume of people. It wasn’t necessary but Viv anticipated some traffic. She got to work immediately.

Disintegration magic usually struggled more against inanimate matter but recently, she had less and less difficulty carving the rock. Inscribing runes in the material was a matter of minutes. She knew exactly what to do. The stone would also help keep the portal alive for longer.

Her last addition was as subtle as she could make it, of course. Witch spells tended to vary greatly between individuals but one could never be too careful, especially because that addition was a kill switch. If Enoria ever went to war with her, she would cripple their supply chain in a moment. She was soon done and then it was time to continue.

Carrots were good and all but she had always favored a nice stick.

“Assassins. Ahead.”

“Hold!”

Viv stopped her horse, looking down at the nearby figure of Zero-Five. An intrusive thought pictured him coldly executing a retired knight while his son looked on from under the bed, with goons burning a village in the background. He had the unfortunate look.

“Assassins?”

“Eight archers with Enorian long bows. Hiding in ambush. No liveries.”

“I see.”

“They look weak, old. Broken. I can kill them for you.”

Viv considered her options.

Funny how two years ago she’d come across a group of such bandits and casually executed them. It had been a necessity then. The Viv at the time couldn’t allow witnesses to report her presence in case she got an army after her. And an army had captured her eventually. That was also why she had requested Zero-Five’s support. She would not be caught off guard again if she could help it.

“I swear, milady, I had no knowledge of such things,” her Enorian knight escort assured her with a worried, candid voice. She waved his concerns away.

Lady Azar insisted she should be more diplomatic and, if she had to be honest, she was not interested in killing. There was no reason to make a point through brutality, not anymore. Those who hadn’t gotten the message by now never would, either through arrogance, despair, or sheer stupidity. She wondered which one it was this time.

“Take this token with you. Leave it right behind them, undetected.”

“As you will.”

“Then return.”

Zero-Five bowed and disappeared from the perception of nearby soldiers. Viv could still track him through his use of black mana, which meant that as powerful as the axe wielder was, his skills still paled in comparison to Irao’s. They waited in silence until the Hadal appeared again. He was fast.

“It is done.”

“Guide the knights to the ambush location at a solid trot.”

“Milady?” Rollo asked with some concern for her.

“I will teleport behind them. Do not be concerned. They have nothing that can take me down.”

“As you order.”

Viv took a deep breath, then she cast her new aegis and gated. The clear road turned into an old forest covered in low ferns, several forms huddling behind a natural bank formed by packed soil and the exposed roots of a collapsed oak. They jumped when she appeared. Viv used the aspect of the guardian to reinforce her defense as one of the attackers swung around, aiming his massive bow at her.

“Do it,” she ordered. “Take the shot.”

She pushed him with intimidation. He half-released, half fumbled the draw and the arrow smashed against the side of her sphere.

This version had tiny interlocked hive patterns over a flowing layer. It was harder to breach since the shock spread over a large surface, the components reinforcing each other and floating in position in case of breach rather than her having to consciously regrow them. It was probably one of the strongest defensive spells in Param right now at an individual level. Even at point blank range, the javelin-like arrow pinged uselessly against it before disappearing into the still-open portal.

The disheveled sniper paled when she casually pressed her horse up. A quick flay severed the string with a dry sound like a whip crack which forced him back against the ground, disarmed.

Viv deployed her soul and the terror smothered whatever was left of the ember of defiance still burning in their chests. Zero-Five had been right. These men were already broken before the attack even began. She looked around. They had no way of escaping the horsemen they had to know accompanied her. It was a suicide mission.

Her knights rumbled in sight a moment later. They formed a silent line above the bank, spears lowered and helmets closed. It was already finished.

“You don’t look like hired thugs. Or bandits,” Viv said, seeing that they were mostly clean. The attackers were mostly older men with clean clothes and haversacks possibly holding supplies. Their bows were well-maintained. They lacked the scruffy edge of bandits or the finesse of assassins.

“Why are you even after me?”

“You can’t just… get away with it all!” the sniper screamed.

So, revenge, she supposed. After a fashion. They lacked the preparedness of professionals so she assumed they were just lashing out.

“The war is over. You lost. There is nothing you can possibly attempt that would take me down. Normally, I would kill the lot of you for the attempt but the truth is that you were never a danger to me.”

“Now you show mercy? Now?”

“Yes. Unless, of course…”

Her intimidation aura flared again. She felt it affect her mood, going from jaded to cold and matter-of-fact. They would do as she said or they would die and their deaths would be no scale, errr, skin off her back.

“You really want to die that much? I am honestly curious. Why? Even if you had somehow succeeded by some miracle, you would have all perished for it. Don’t you have families who need you?”

“I don’t,” the leader said. “Because they were all killed in a raid while I was away! You and the other rebels… I got nothing to lose. Nothing at all. Nothing left, because you took everything.”

“I’ve heard that one before. If you want to end it, then die doing something useful. Fight monsters. Protect villages. None of you are crippled to the point you can’t function without help. You have no excuse coming here to waste your training, weapons, and my time when you could be out there spending your lives to make the world less shit. Help a starving widow. Kill a snakehound. I don’t care. Stop using me as a tool.”

“I… I…”

“Look at me. Look at me, that’s right. I… am beyond your reach. That’s it. Give it up.”

Sullen, slightly shameful silence answered Viv. It was clear she had gotten to most of them in the way they sat despondent, their precious bows held like lifelines and not the tool of war it was meant to be. Only the leader still fought her influence but it felt brittle, the last pillar holding together a crumbling reason to live.

“Dunno that I can give that up.”

“At least do it for the others around you, unless you want to drive them to a pointless death as well?”

“No… no, I don’t wanna do that.”

“Good. You have each other at the very least. Find a worthy cause to spend your lives in, if you really must , alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. Now, FUCK OFF.”

“Yea, yeah. Sorry, Fine. And… thank you.”

“Get lost before I change my mind.”

The archers scurried away as fast as emotionally broken wrecks could. Viv watched them go with a feeling of relative satisfaction. She didn’t have to shed blood and so she didn’t. It was as simple as that.

His Enorian escort approached with his helmet held respectfully between gauntleted fingers.

“Milady… I am not sure it was wise to let those men go. His Majesty King Sangor decreed that those who still resist ought to be slain, for they act against the kingdom itself.”

“I know it sounds hypocritical coming from me but, in a way, I’m glad this didn’t end in bloodshed. There’s just no point here. Maybe we could just forget this whole incident ever happened?”

Viv could almost hear the cogs grind behind the man’s contemplative gaze. One less pile of paperwork. One less round of executions. Her offer was more than tempting.

“As you say, milady. You are the offended party.”

“Good man. Now, let’s go. Something tells me a lot of blood will be shed before the season is over.”

“Very well. And I do not mean it as an insult when I tell you that… you are not what they say.”

“My violence has a purpose. If those guys had shot one of my people, you would have realized that I am exactly what they say.”

Two weeks later.

Some places deserve to be painted. As the crimson dusk kissed the meadow in front of Viv, it gave the green grass a warmer tone, an ephemeral feeling enchanting the last moments of a nearby festival. Already, the jousters were packing their spears while the last revelers finished their bottles or gathered in warm embraces. Group after group left in small clumps, on horseback more often than not. The nearest road snaked between growing fields and cozy farmsteads protecting ripening vineyards. This was an old land, a rich land, tame and bountiful and filled with colors seen in the merry garments of its inhabitants. Viv could not have pictured a more idyllic nation of knights and princesses if she had found it in a library book. Even the distant castle with its white stone and blue spires would be more fitting in a fairy tale than in a war.

They were finally in Baran. The richest, most powerful country of the continent. The seat of its mightiest military and its most elite knights. Viv sighed, a little jealous. Why couldn’t she have landed here among the romance segment of some high budget Arthurian show instead of the touristic equivalent of a purulent boil on Satan’s sphincter? Why?

As she watched, a servant accidentally backed into a noble wearing a red dress, pushing her against a tent picket. Two muscular lads immediately jumped the poor sod and left him bleeding on the ground.

Ok, perhaps that was why.

“Milady,” her Enorian escort said, “We may not go on further. However, I am told a detachment of Knights of the White Orchard awaits in Coelette castle. Over there. They will guarantee your safety.”

“Excellent. Thank you.”

“Then I shall take my leave.”

The knight departed at a good trot leaving her with her own detachment. Rollo approached her. She turned to him. He seemed… tense.

“I took etiquette classes at the Academy. Nothing mentioned my specific situation, however. Do you have any advice?” she asked.

“You are safe. You are a noble caster lady, a combination that gives you a position of respect both from the warring folks and the scheming folks. The issue is not for you but for us. Over half of the Order is of Baranese origin. As far as they are concerned, we are defectors.”

“Ah.”

“I will add that Baran allows for a marriage between several adults.”

“Oh I knew that. It makes family law… interesting?”

“That is a polite way to phrase it, Your Majesty. My point, however, was that men may join other men in matrimony and although they are expected to honor their wives, nothing precludes them from being intimate with each other. Most Baranese would see my act as a betrayal when I could have swallowed my pride and done my duty. I could have satisfied my urges with a like-minded individual, they would say. I did not want that. I wanted Elber.”

“He…”

“He died facing Prince Lancer’s champion. Yes. Sometimes, I wonder if… but nevermind my qualms. The Order will come under attack and our honor will be questioned. They will not understand that I wanted to live my love openly with the one my heart chose. What I ask is that you do not intervene.”

“Pardon? I should just let my knights get insulted?”

“Yes. Defending us is not your role here. We are defending you. And our honor.”

“Fine. I just don’t want any of you to die.”

“It will not come to this, milady. And besides, we are merely passing through. The locals will not have enough time to drag you into their games. At least, not this time.”

Two weeks later.

Viv sighed in relief.

Finally, they were there.

“Hello, Viviane. Welcome to the crucible.”

Viv saluted Jaratalassi with a fist upon her heart. It was a common Northern greeting and also it was pretty fucking cool. The general looked more spry than usual despite a mouth set in a stress-filled line. Rollo and the rest of the escort formed a line by the portal’s side, their focus on the nearby forests of craggy pine in case of marauders. The eastern marches of Baran were semi-arid though the late spring had yet to turn any needle yellow. It was an airy land that smelled of sap and dust. All in all, a rather pleasant experience. For now.

Jaratalassi rode down by her side along with a dozen lancers who formed a loose circle around them. He sized her up.

“You look regal, Viviane of Harrak. Thank you for being here. Now, I asked for soldiers...”

He sighed. His gaze swept the portal.

“I hope you brought me some because I will need them.”

“I bring one thousand five hundred.”

Jaratalassi gave a bitter smile. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. Viv had never seen the old general more nervous than now. She still didn’t know what was coming but it had the old veteran worried sick.

“That… is better than nothing. And most of what you have, I presume. How many levies?”

Viv smirked. Instead of answering, she fed mana into her witch gates.

The portal activated.

For a moment, the aperture showed the lush green grass of a Baranese field, but soon the air was filled with the blaring calls of warhorns. The ground shook when twenty knights in full armor rode across the opening, soon followed by the barded steel tank that held Viv’s primary shield array, Solfis standing on it like a grim ornament. The pilot waved at her and Viv realized there were even more spikes and blades jutting from the vehicle’s front.

After them, the rest of the army followed at a brisk pace. Columns of grim One Hundred came first, soon followed by Hightree soldiers armed to the teeth then the Fingers with their long bows.

“I shall guide them to the camping site,” Zero-Five said as he emerged from the shadows, spooking the nearest lancers.

“Please do so.”

The companies followed each other. Jaratalassi’s expression was one of quiet contemplation while the parade continued. He only shook his head once when Poacher arrived at the head of the Sisters of the Eye, then later when one of the Bitter Hearts called him handsome. As the heavily armed column reached its end, more rumbling heralded the coming of shield arrays and the Shrill’s many catapults. Sidjin saluted from his seat, looking quite smug. Lana nodded at her.

It took another five minutes for the supply train to pass through with an escort of Children of the Scale and Temple Guards forming the rear guard. Smiths, cooks, healers, menders, cleaners and builders came in strength to assist the force for an extended deployment. Then there was the supply train Baran had promised.

Jaratalassi remained quiet for quite some time after the last of the Harrakans had disappeared down the trail. Viv closed the portal.

“We do not do levies,” she told him.

“I see. We… may have a chance after all. I will need to reassess our deployment.”

“Care to tell me more about our mysterious invaders? Where do they even come from?”

“As far as I can tell from the handful of defectors we’ve talked to, they came from the isthmus separating Halluria’s eastern tip from whatever lands wait beyond. We have no idea what’s there.”

“They crossed the entire Halluria from side to side? How? How did they get enough supplies?”

“As far as we understand, they eat humans.”

“They what?”

Chapter 154: The Paramese Alliance is in shambles

Nestled in a depression between two mountains, the Paramese alliance had made its camp. Viv had to admit that it didn’t look like much. There was enough space for a medium town there but the tents and sober stone blocks raised by brown mages would comfortably host twenty thousand people, no more. An army that size would be respectable for a small country but they were not that. They were the mighty alliance supposed to stop whatever roamed Halluria, defeating what had been the continent’s bogeymen for generations.

Things were… not looking good.

The Harrakan column moved to the spot designated for them in good order. Temple Guard engineers ran around to mark areas then, as soon as they were done, fragments of the army would set up while the rest stood guard under the flabbergasted gaze of the rest of the alliance. Viv could understand them. Her soldiers proudly bore the flag and armor patterns of a long dead nation. It was like witnessing an ancient Roman legion asking to join NATO. Only more effective.

Her attention returned to the encampment. For all her criticism about the low numbers, order and discipline ruled, giving her some hope. The tents and simple lodgings stood in orderly rows separated by palisades, each marked by colorful pennants. Patrols walked the ground while scouts left and returned from a passage east at regular intervals. She could spot three different factions. The first was Baranese, clearly, though the mismatched uniforms and old gear were a far cry from the expected standards. Nevertheless, their members stood with confidence with well-used weapons. The second group came right out of some Conan movie complete with beast skin, huge weapons, and a camp that barely qualified as one. As she watched, a group returned from a nearby forest dragging behind it a large dead beast.

The last group and by far the most numerous was another Baranese army. At ten thousand strong, they formed half of all available forces and came with infantry, archers, and a large cavalry contingent whose horses waited in stalls carefully crafted by mages. They all shared a green pattern and liveries bearing the image of a stag. They were the most tense and solemn group.

“Whose troops are those, in the middle?” she asked Jaratalassi who was using the pause to drink something strong from his pocket flask.

“Duke Eikart. We are on his lands.”

“Ah, this explains the long faces.”

“If we fail to stop those mysterious cannibal creatures, their families are first in line at the buffet.”

“Creatures? You didn’t mention that.”

“Apologies if I didn’t elaborate yet.”

The old general sighed deeply, sagging in his saddle under the weight of his responsibilities. Viv wasn’t sure but she thought he had more gray in his hair than when they first met.

“Not that we know much. Defectors are few and they’re almost never warriors. They speak of insectile creatures, or lizards. Hard to say. They speak of a great host coming from across the isthmus, ravaging everything in its path. We have yet to see them but we know they have just taken the nearest city. It’s only a matter of time now.”

“Look, you know I’m here for you,” Viv said with some concern. “I just have one question. If the entirety of Halluria cannot stop those guys, what hope does our mismatched group have?”

“Well, first, one does not cross Halluria without encountering hardships, so they might not be as strong as when they started. Second, Baran is mobilizing, as is Enoria and the north. We will receive reinforcements. We merely need to hold on. Third, I am the greatest defense strategist on this continent and have been for the past three decades.”

“And you're humble too.”

“I’m being realistic here, Viviane the Outlander. I have stopped Halluria’s incursions with minimum damage to our land using borrowed troops for the major part of my adult life. Trust me when I say this: you cannot be in better hands. I wish you could, but you cannot right now.”

“As you say. So, what’s the play?”

“War council first, then I have a job for you, seeing as your men are fresh. And women, I guess. We have a small Hallurian army approaching our positions. I need them recruited or gone.”

“Recruited? You think it’s possible?”

The general shrugged.

“If the destruction of their homeland is not enough to cure them of their notion of superiority, then nothing will. They are still human. Perhaps there is a chance.”

“I do not exactly trust my luck with that.”

“Then kill them all, I care not. I merely need them gone. We cannot afford to have rogue raiders threatening our flanks and supply routes. Now let’s go meet the others. Bring your elites.”

“What, all of them?” Viv asked.

“Ah yes, well, that should be interesting.”

Before joining the war council, Viv stopped by her new camp to make sure everything was going smoothly. Rakan and Sidjin were erecting structures at record speed so her people could sleep comfortably in their semi-permanent barracks, the tents saved for foray into Halluria itself. Viv even had her own command bunker, though she would have to fortify it with spells before she could sleep in it. As it was, two people were already waiting by the entrance. The first was Rollo, who looked as stoic as usual. The second was a more hesitant Lana. Rollo went first with the confidence of a man with a busy schedule.

“I would like for us to meet the other knights.”

“You mean, you want to socialize?” Viv asked with a frown.

The trip through Baran had led to three separate duels. She expected the order master to aspire to some respite after the whole mess.

“Viviane, as much as it pains me to admit it, there are too few of us to make an impact on the battlefield. You know how cavalry charges work.”

“The more of you there are…”

“And the more powerful the skills. Precisely. Horse riders always unite on the eve of a great battle for we will charge and fight together. I expect this time will be no different.”

That made sense to Viv. She wasn’t a cavalry expert so Rollo most likely knew better.

“Alright. Do as you see fit. We’ll be going to the main camp soon anyway.”

“By your will,” Rollo replied with a manly fist to his chest. The armored plate bonged pleasantly, then he was off.

Viv turned her attention to Lana.

“So can I come as well?” she asked with a slightly acidic tone.

“All the elites will come. That means you, Rakan, and Sidjin as well.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Silence awkwardly extended. Viv enjoyed silence. It was a powerful tool, sometimes.

Lana fidgeted under her attention.

“I, hmm, I have to say something to you in private.”

“Then now would be the right moment.”

Lana searched Viv’s expression for something, though the witch didn’t know what. Lana wore the same elaborate blue dresses she had favored under Elunath’ control, but the general feeling was completely different. From demure servant, she had grown into a stern leader for her girls. Viv felt the image was brittle, however. Something about keeping the same clothes, the same skin, bothered the witch on a fundamental level. She would have tossed those clothes away as a sign of emancipation but… Lana was Lana, with her own feelings on the matter. At least that’s what Viv told herself.

“Yes. I admit to treating you rather coldly since our return, perhaps I even made our relationship adversarial without cause,” Lana articulated slowly.

Viv nodded, letting her talk. It seemed like an important moment for the blue mage.

“I… may have let my past influence me too much. I… this is difficult to admit. I feel guilty, have felt guilty for a while now. During my years of service, I have done my utmost to accommodate Elunath and his moods, to help his servants navigate his feelings and mood swings. I have been vigilant. I have been watchful all the time, in tune with his attitude, so the others would not be beaten. A word there, a touch here. All I could to smooth things out.”

Another nod. Lana licked her lips, eyes lost.

“But you came and you killed him. And that means he wasn’t as invincible as I thought he was. That means that for years, I have been the agent of his domination by instilling a sense of fear in the others. I have enabled his tyranny by attuning those around me to his every desire.”

“Lana…”

“No! Shut up, please. I acknowledge that… I was too weak. Perhaps fighting would have made things worse. I did the best I could. We were alone, unsupported. He made us that way. He selected us because we were isolated to begin with. I know that. It doesn’t matter. I helped him control us, me, by my own will. So… I can’t let that happen again. Ever.”

Lana looked up to see if Viv got it. She did.

“You think I’m going to turn like him.”

“No! No, not think. Fear. I fear that. And that is unfair to you, because you have done right by us every step of the way. But I look at you, look into your eyes, feel the power in your aura, and I remember him… You are fine for now and perhaps you will remain so for a long time. You have friends and a heart. And principles. And yet, and yet… you are an elemental Archmage… and I cannot stop you. Maranor help me, if you decide to crush us, there is nothing I can do to stop you. None of us can.”

Viv nodded.

“Look, there is nothing I can tell you or swear to you that I have not sworn before so I believe the solution to our problem here must be found elsewhere. Have you talked to Abe?”

“He means well. He just doesn’t get it. He has always been strong, strong enough to hide even from a demigod and then strong enough to defeat him, with your help.”

“Not what I meant.”

Anger replaced confusion in Lana’s traits so Viv stopped talking. It was clearly a difficult moment for the mage.

“What do you mean then?”

“You are presenting a very strong front to the others. You want to be the rock they depend on. Am I correct?”

“Of course, you are correct! How can I do anything less? After everything I’ve done to hurt their minds?”

“You need to give yourself the time to grieve, Lana.”

“Grieve? I haven’t lost anyone!”

Viv sighed. Lana was growing agitated.

“This was a waste of my time,” she said, fidgeting and looking around.

“Wait. I will try again. Remember, I am from a very different culture, so I ask for your patience. I… I am scared as well. I hide it in public, of course, however the truth is that there are still plenty of things that can kill me here and if not me, then they can destroy what I have built and the people I have gathered. I am scared but I also share my fears with the people I love around me. Sidjin. Solfis. Arthur. Even Abe on occasion. I cried with my roommate back in Helock when I realized I would never see my family again.”

“Ah, I am sorry…”

“When I say you need to give yourself time to grieve, I meant the life Elunath stole from you and the others. You… were probably in a state of hypervigilance for a long time and you can’t let yourself go because you feel responsibility for the others. You owe it to them to protect them from those who would abuse them again, including me.”

Lana slowly nodded.

“Yes.”

“That’s no way to live. You’re going to break sooner or later. That’s why I’m telling you to talk to Abe, because he will help you get that pain off your shoulders so you can finally take a breath. You owe it to yourself, Lana. You can’t protect everyone else if you’re on the verge of breaking all the time. You’re safe now. I’m not Elunath.”

“I know.”

“Lana. I am not Elunath. My friends and I are here for all of you, I swear it. Rely on us like we rely on you. Do yourself that favor. And if you are concerned, you can do the same oath to our cause as Ban did.”

“Ban? Loyal-to-a-fault Ban? The head of the heavies?”

“When he swore allegiance to me, he also promised that if I were to ask him to commit atrocities, he would stab me on the spot.”

“He… he did?”

“Looked me right in the eyes too.”

“Haha,” Lana said, wiping her eyes. “I… cannot promise I will fully trust you but… I’ll try.”

“What you went through cannot be fixed in a single conversation. Just know you have all the rest of your life to find peace and we’ll be there alongside you, yes? You can be the one the others look up to without turning into some invincible statue that never feels anything. Just accept the help, please?”

“Right. Let’s save the continent first and then I’ll save myself.”

“I mean, you can work on both at the same time. Peace?”

“Hm?”

“Are we at peace?”

“Oh yes. Thank you for this. I feel stupid now, bothering you with my qualms in the middle of a war.”

“Don’t worry about it, Lana. Let’s just say getting along is part of my job.”

“You are the strangest empress in all of Nyil.”

“I can live with that. I don’t need to affect an aloof countenance because I can melt people off the face of reality. People know it, I know it. It makes them very polite.”

“Why, I feel safer already.”

The command tent was not so much a tent per se as a bunker with an open roof covered in canvas. The light of the noon sun shone through the white fabric. It was also a little stuffy, and cramped, even before Viv walked in with her elites.

Three groups waited by a large table bearing the usual maps, corresponding to the camps she’d seen outside. The first consisted of gruff Baranese soldiers headed by an enthusiastic young man with a stag emblem on his gambeson. The second was made of tall, wild men who reminded Viv of Koro under the command of a colossus so tall his head almost touched the ceiling. A large glaive rested on his impressive shoulders while his gnarly face exuded contempt and boredom in equal measure. The last group, and also the most homogeneous, followed an old man in full, green plate armor. Gray stubble covered his chin while his gaze went over Viv’s troops. He radiated quiet disapproval.

“Hello, Viviane. Be welcome. This is Duke Eikart,” Jaratalassi said, pointing at the sour noble. “Here is young Duke Falstag who leads the duchy to the north. His people have suffered much at the hands of the Hallurians.”

“We are proud to fulfill our oath to our allies!” the duke said with enough energy to light up a happy lightbulb.

“And here is Cloud Skull, a mercenary from the south. He agreed to join us for the fight.”

“Yes,” the titan said with a voice like a grumbling rockfall. “Now that we’ve sniffed each other’s arses, can we go out and fight?”

“Oh but we’re just starting with the sniffing,” Viv replied, holding the large man’s glare.

He was interesting. Something in his aura formed a sort of web across his body that kept the ambient mana around him at bay. While most arcane fencers imbued power to their strikes, this one used it to reinforce his body. She suspected he resisted magic to a degree, though how much was difficult to assess.

“I will align with my uncouth ‘friend’ here, woman. Did you have to bring that many people?” Eikart said in a low voice.

“Elites are people of the fourth step of higher with a command role, yes?”

Eikar glared. That was a rhetorical question.

“Then they’re all my elites.”

A mage lowered himself to whisper in Eikart’s ear. The man’s eyes widened.

“Lots of mages,” Cloud Skull said. “Lots of talking. Back home we would be wrestling for the title of warchief.”

Eikart looked like he wanted to hang himself. Jaratalassi had the patient look of a man who was waiting for a group to calm down while Falstag’s lips formed a disapproving line.

“We’re all on the same side here,” he said.

“Yes,” Viv said, “well.”

She extended an arm to the barbarian who only smirked. Viv saw mana flood his conduits, intensifying his resistance. She souped up a kinetic spell.

Instead of hitting the man directly, she compressed a pane of solid transparent mana, then released it to smack against his chest. A loud ‘woosh’ made the tent’s fabric flutter. A few of the southmen raised their arms to protect their eyes.

Cloud Skull grunted under the impact.

Even accounting for the resistance, the pane should have sent the man tumbling out but instead, he stood his ground. His feet dug a furrow in the earth while his back smashed against the earthen barrier. Like some sort of anime protagonist. A few of his unfortunate men collapsed at his passage, but none were hurt.

A terrified silence filled the tent.

“Consider yourself wrestled,” Viv said amicably.

The craggy giant slowly extracted himself from the small depression his mass had carved. Viv patiently watched him lumber back across the room with the speed and momentum of a continental drift. His presence filled the air, meeting Viv’s own cold dragon aura. His face split and he showed rows of ivory teeth.

And then he laughed.

His tribe chuckled with him. Hands left the handle of weapons. Viv allowed herself a smile.

“Well you got stones, Weird Eyes. Hope you fight as well as you bark.”

“Count on it. Now, for the arse sniffing. This is my second and paramour, Sidjin the Red Mist, hero of the Glastian wall.”

“Nice to meet you,” the fallen prince replied with casual charm.

His reputation preceded him if the whispers were any indication. With a smirk, Viv’s introductions went on and the mood turned as she continued. Solfis and Zero-Five were of particular interest to the tribesmen while Lorn and Rollo were known to the Baranese for their battle prowess. After she was done, the others introduced their side as well. Falstag brought some solid fighters while Cloud Skull’s men were all introduced with anecdotes that mostly consisted of killing beasts while drunk off their tits, butt-naked, or both. Except for Adon Goat-Fucker the very unfortunately named. Eikart brought the most balanced contingent including most of the local mages who were all third step. Eikart regained some colors after they were done.

“Tradition dictates that a monarch should lead us, however I am sorry to say that not everyone can claim they’re an empress and take precedence,” the duke said with a dangerous tone.

“That’s fine. I’m here because Jaratalassi asked me, and I will follow his lead.”

“How very… humble of you.”

Eikart leaned forward in his seat. His fist gripped the edge of a table in a death grip.

“Nevertheless, you have my gratitude for coming to the defense of my ancestral lands. Those are strange times when Halluria fails to defend itself and Param denies me the help I requested. Now we stand facing a new danger. I hope… it will be enough.”

“And with this, I would like to explain my plan,” Jaratalassi said.

Everyone gathered around the table, then Jaratalassi gently forced people back so everyone could see. The general pointed at a map that showed the camp they were in as well as the surroundings. It had been exquisitely made by someone who clearly knew their stuff.

“This is our camp and here is the supply line going west to the witch gate the Empress established.”

Viv hid a smile. Jaratalassi was helping her by giving her credibility, something he was doing of his own accord.

“The only viable path east goes through a large ravine that forms a gap in the mountain chain that forms the barrier. We will fortify that ravine as a fall-back position. Beyond it lie the desertic plains of Halluria. A patch of forest to the north can provide some cover but otherwise, the place is desolate. Our plan is to bait out the enemy outside of the ravine and face them there until we are pushed back.”

“Hold on,” Viv said, “Why not simply hunker down within the fortified spot? We should have the advantage in terms of casters. A chokehold would favor us.”

Jaratalassi patiently waited for her to finish. He didn’t seem offended by her questions.

“We might do this in the end. As to why we will delay, there are three reasons. First, our most powerful fighting force is our cavalry and they cannot perform through our walls. Second, there is a secondary passage about thirty leagues to the south and I very much want our mysterious foes to commit themselves against us rather than look for an alternative and so far lightly defended way into our backlines. We want them to want to attack us. Finally, those fortifications do not yet exist. Our engineers will need time.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now comes the question of the Hallurian force we detected half a day away. I would like the Harrakan contingent to engage this force and either recruit or destroy it.”

“Hallurians cannot be recruited. You might as well put your hand in a snakehound’s maw,” Eikart spat with venom.

Rakan cleared his throat quite loudly, which led to an embarrassed silence in the room.

“Present company excluded,” the duke grumbled. “But if you want to try, be my guest, just don’t come running if they attack you like feral mutts.”

“Neriad might yet grant them mercy,” Farren said.

That statement was received with the same amount of consternation as claiming beastlings were cute. Nevertheless, no one dared to contradict a member of the temple to their face on the eve of an important battle. Viv wanted to pat the Voice of Neriad’s shoulder but that probably wouldn’t be well received.

“Yeah, well, it’s now or never,” Jaratalassi finished. “If not most of them, then at least a few prisoners if at all possible. They are disheartened, after all.”

“We will do our best,” Viv assured.

“Excellent. In the meanwhile, the Baranese force will hold the mouth of the ravine while our engineers go to work. Cloud Skull, can I count on you and your men to scout the nearby lands? I want to know when and where the army will strike.”

“Oh we’ll do better than that,” the massive warrior replied with a smirk “We’ll tickle them so they follow us where you want’em. Don’t you worry.”

“Then we are in agreement. I will ask that you move tomorrow at first light. Your Majesty, some of our scouts can lead you to the Hallurian camp. Thank you for coming. Viviane, a moment please?”

Most everyone filed out, except Eikart who stood at a distance. Tension rose near the exit as a natural consequence of arrogant magic-boosted superhumans who didn't trust each other being in an enclosed space but, by some miracle, everyone left without a surprise riot. Jaratalassi approached Viv with a light smile, the first expression of mirth she’d seen on him in a while.

“It went much better than expected. I have to admit, when you pushed Cloud Skull back, I thought it would end in a melee.”

“Unlikely. That man was never at risk since he resists magic.”

“Yes. Arguably completely.”

“No such thing.”

“His reputation is well known, and he has been taunting our mages since he arrived. We need him, however. Southerners are a wild bunch but many of the tribes cling to their reputations like barnacles to a hull. In any case, please be careful around him. Do not aggravate him further if possible.”

“Sure.”

“I wanted to ask a service of you. While you are out, I would like you to create a witch gate in the woods to the north, hidden from sight. In case we need an… alternate path in.”

Viv nodded. That was a good idea.

“I’ll create the twin in our camp upon my return and lock it so only we can use it. Hidden. Sidjin and Rakan will help me.”

“Perfect. That was all then, thank you.”

That left Duke Eikart to deal with. He was still waiting. Her first instinct was to bow as it was etiquette as taught by the Academy but… she was a monarch now, technically, and bowed to no one. The duke didn’t seem to take umbrage.

“Greetings, Viviane of Harrak. Although I will repeat that I appreciate you coming to the defense of our land as part of the alliance, I will ask that you keep your knights in your camp while we are at rest.”

“You… what?”

“I want your knights off my perimeter. They have been challenging my soldiers to poetry contests and declaiming texts of… of dubious moral virtue! I will not abide them tempting my men into reprehensible behavior. Please, I do not mean this as an insult, but if you cannot control your men, then they have no place within my camp!”

Viv glared. Unfortunately, the duke had a right to expel the Blue Roses because, simply put, his turf, his rules. That was a constant of Paramese politics, also the reason why slaves were tolerated in allied war camps although several cities had completely banned the practice on their territories.

Viv nodded slowly.

“Fair enough. That is your right. Was there anything else?”

“No, I… no. For what it’s worth, I will petition the king to give you recognition as a gesture of gratitude.”

Viv nodded and left. It was Baran’s interest to do so anyway to keep Enoria occupied and delay the return of the continent’s second most powerful kingdom in the arena of international politics. Outside, she strode back to her camp, asking Rollo to come with everyone.

“What is the matter, Your Majesty?”

“You have been expelled from the camp for attempting to corrupt the youth.”

Rollo glowered in resentful silence but Viv wasn’t done and she asked him to stay around. Farren joined her during the short trip back.

“I would like to come in the capacity of diplomat,” he told her.

“What? With the Hallurians?”

“Yes.”

Viv considered Farren’s offer. The young Voice of Neriad had this genuine, hopeful expression she didn’t trust.

“Look, I don’t think this is a good idea. I was planning on having Rakan set up a meeting with their leader on neutral ground, for example an open space within range of our wasp catapults.”

“This will not work.”

“It will work well enough for our purposes. I suspect we’ll have to kill most of them and capture the fleeing ones. Those talk. I can say from experience.”

Farren shook his head. His jaw set in a stubborn line.

“Viv. This is our only chance at reconciliation.”

“Fuck reconciliation. Have you ever fought them? What I saw in the places we liberated… The ritualistic suicides, the executed prisoners. Just…”

“Viv. This is not up to you.”

This time, Viv did stop and glared. Everyone else did so as well, staying at a respectable distance to give them some privacy.

“I do believe I lead this army, Farren.”

“You do, and the temple guard will follow you to the isthmus and back. But I’m not here in capacity as a soldier. I’m here as a diplomat.”

“You are here as my quartermaster.”

“I am sorry, Viviane. I am not. For centuries, we have fought the Hallurians to a standstill in a clash that left hundreds of thousands dead. Today, they are on the brink of destruction after an invading army brought them to their knees. If there is one chance a hand extended in friendship and forgiveness turns our relationship around, even for a single clan, even one city, we will have achieved more for civilization than any single person in recent history. Think about it, Viv. Peace with Halluria. Is that not a dream worth fighting for?”

“It’s a dream that will get you killed.”

“If there is a single chance it can succeed, I owe it to mankind to try.”

Viv glared at Farren.

This was Rakan at the arena all over again. Someone she cared about was going to take a risk she disapproved of. This time though, there was no one she could convince to stop him. Unless…

“Does Lorn know?”

“He disapproves as well. His task is not to take risks but to protect those under his charge. And no, Viviane, he cannot tell me what to do.”

“At least take an escort with you.”

“I will do so while you remain at a distance. If it looks like negotiations will fail, they will try to extract me. I am not a complete fool. And I will wear armor.”

“Fine.”

Not that she could do much anyway. She just disliked risking Farren’s life for people she didn’t care for.

Viv didn’t control people. They flocked to her banner because they believed in what she believed in and that was a great strength, but her rather loose hierarchy meant they pursued their own agenda and, sometimes, it meant decisions she didn’t approve of. She’d never been stronger but she would never be strong enough to protect people. At least not from themselves.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You’ll do no such thing. You breathe power and violence, Viviane the Traveler. Your aura is not that of a negotiator. I might as well approach them with a naked blade.”

“Fuck.”

Viv gave up. Maybe there was a way to protect him by enchanting his gear. Or maybe she should just let go and accept people would take risks for things they believed in.

“Thank you, Viviane.”

“Hmm?”

“I must admit, you delaying the attack on Kazar to take care of your feverish dragon, then assassinating a member of the temple made me fear for the future. So far, my worries remain unfounded. It seems power has not gotten to your head quite yet.”

“Well, I have a lot of people to keep me in line.”

“Yes. I hope those include more people like Abenezigel— and I still cannot believe we have a redeemed Lich — and less people like Solfis.”

“No promises.”

Viv stopped at the entrance of the camp to cast eldritch walls on a piece of land under the curious gaze of sentries. Her soldiers were busying themselves using whatever mana they had to create barracks and get settled. She was rather impressed by how efficient they were.

“You wanted to talk to me, Your Majesty?” Rollo asked, apparently still a little sour.

“Yes. One moment. Let me finish.”

Once a platform was raised, Viv stepped onto it and created a basic circle with a directional sound enchantment.

“Alright Rollo. You have been banned from Eikart’s camp and I can’t do anything about it, but anyone who steps on the platform and speaks will get their voice amplified and sent in the direction of said camp. I’m setting it up in case we need to, ah, communicate with them? Yes. And it would be irresponsible of you to use it to declaim poetry or anything of the sort.”

“I see, Your Majesty. Not to worry. This contraption will be in good hands. BLUE ROSES, TO ME!”

“And with this I am off. Do not disturb me.”

Her dastardly plan to lure more knights to her banner by ‘infecting them with the gay’ settled, it was time for Viv to build her next gate.

The world felt different on the other side of the mountains.

It was not the mana. The planet didn’t care about the difference enough to change itself. It was the tension in the shoulders of soldiers, eyes searching the powdery edge of the horizon for movement. It hid in the strained voices yelling orders and the white knuckles clenched on sword handles, or the shafts of vicious quarrels. Viv looked behind at the Harrakan army. Three squares of heavies provided a defensive line around the marksmen and the Yries war machines. The last square held the supply train including cisterns for there was no water to be found around here. Only dry, rolling valleys of dusty stone peppered with tufts of brown grass as far as the eye could see. The Hallurians were hidden there, somewhere, in one of the many folds of the wrinkly land. The running southerners by her side moved with enough purpose that she was confident they would be found quickly.

Morning turned to noon and the army stopped for a short rest, then they set off again. The temperatures were already warm enough to make Viv slightly aware of the heat, though her peculiar constitution protected her. Within two months, this entire area would turn into a sweltering hellscape hostile to life itself. They found the Hallurian army shortly after.

It was not very difficult.

The first hint was the low cloud of vultures encircling the low valley. The second was the stench. It smelled like rot and old excrements, a pungent cloud that made Viv wince with every breath of wind. They knew the Harrakans were coming, because when Viv crested the last ridge, she found them arrayed in battle lines across a low plain.

Calling that gathering an army was generous. The camp behind them was more of a messy array of debris plunged in squalor and littered with damaged goods and the occasional dry corpse around a more solid, fortified core of well-ordered tents. Warborns and archers took the center of a formation behind a man in full plate and a helmet bearing two horns that gave him the appearance of a beetle. All around them were militias, all in all perhaps four thousand people though the real fighting force was perhaps a quarter of that. They looked starved, filthy, and dehydrated but they certainly didn’t look like they were about to surrender.

“Well. I guess it’s your turn to shine,” she told Farran.

“Have some faith, Viv,” the man said. “The gods are watching.”

“Yeah. Somehow, that doesn’t comfort me.”

Chapter 155: Halluria

Farren slowly made his way down the slope atop a white horse, the temple guard trailing him at a respectable distance. She couldn’t read the Hallurian leader at all. His face remained hidden behind the closed helmet while he stood like a stone statue. As for his men, the Warborn followed the shape of the Voice with sullen glares. Farren certainly had an uphill battle facing him. He stopped then dismounted.

His dark hair suddenly glowed with a golden radiance. Neriad was here to bring his assistance. Farren spoke loudly and Viv realized she could hear him despite the distance between them. His Hallurian was surprisingly decent, much better than Viv’s.

“For centuries, our people have fought and died on the same stretch of land. For centuries you have come for us and we have sent you away. We know each other well through our blades. And we have spilled enough blood to fill a sea.

“But now, things have changed. You have been invaded. The enemy has swept you aside and forced you here, away from your cities into the desert where nothing grows. You have no food and no water.

“Despite this, I see you are not broken. I acknowledge you as warriors and recognize your spirit. What I ask is not your surrender. I know I will not get it. What I ask is that you stand side by side with us to fight the enemy you were going to face anyway. We will share our water and our hearth. We will extend a truce. And when this is done, you can return to Halluria to reclaim what is yours and we will not stand in your way. I do not make demands of you. I extend a hand in friendship, Hallurians, that we may fight together instead of against each other for once. Give us a truce, Hallurians. Join us as humans as we will join you, and we shall defeat your foes together.”

For a while, Farren’s words hung in the air between the two armies like a tantalizing promise. Soon, however, a group of three cloaked figures made their way out of the inner camp to the edge of the Hallurian formation. They wore plain, white facemasks and their people split like the red sea to let them through, equal part terror and respect.

“Is it good or is it bad?” Viv whispered to Rakan who was by her side.

“Hmm. Neutral? I guess? Farren’s still breathing but the faceless are fanatical. I, uh, I think Farren should come back.”

Viv activated the communicator towards Lorn. The temple guard acknowledged her with a grunt.

“Those are faceless. Get him back to us.”

“I cannot. He is not in active danger and will refuse,” the guard replied between gritted teeth. “He wants to try.”

“Fine.”

Maybe Viv was wrong and Farren would pull a miracle. She watched the spectacle enfold with trepidation. The faceless trio stopped by the warlord and stood there, unmoving. Farren remained still as well. He exuded benevolent patience.

Then, the warlord laughed. It was not a good laugh. It spread like wildfire among the gaunt Warborn and it rang hollow and wrong. A cacophony of insane cackling that drove home that the persons there had left their sanities behind long ago.

“Enough, get both out of here,” Viv said, and this time she infused her voice with power, but Lorn was already moving along with the horses.

“No,” Farren replied.

“Sir…”

“No, go now. It’s too late.”

“What?”

“Go NOW.”

Farren stood where he was and Lorn was forced back, possibly by a skill. The escort turned around while the Voice remained. For a beautiful moment, Viv though the warlord would let him go as he extended a hand in a gesture that could theoretically turn into a ‘fuck off’.

A green flame around a black heart grew from the open palm. Viv recognized it only too well. There was only one god who granted that sort of deleterious magic to their followers.

“Efestar.”

The warlord took his time at first, but he accelerated as soon as Viv started casting. The flame left his fist then went through Farren’s chest. The young man collapsed. He was dead on the spot.

The three faceless immediately cast something that looked like a clustered artillery spell. It felt dangerous to Viv’s senses.

“Viv?” Rakan asked.

“Everyone, Engage!”

Her voice carried through all the communication devices across her forces. As on, the Harrakan line was covered in shields while the men advanced, the One Hundred heading the wedge. They walked down.

Viv shadow stepped to her tank and activated her aegis. The cluster attack was now descending on the spot she’d been.

“Aspect of the Guardian. Durandal.”

The hive pattern shield shone white, then the interception spell hit a cluster which detonated midair, causing a huge explosion. Some of the other pieces were still falling so she busied herself interrupting them. Spells roared from her left and right where Lana and Sidjin were already on the offensive. The last ones hit her shield head on. She felt a small drain on her reserves.

As expected, the faceless had a small library of spells but they mastered those to perfection.

“DO YOU SEE NOW?” a voice spoke in her mind.

“DO YOU SEE WHAT HE STANDS FOR?”

Furious, Viv fed a lot of power into a simple prayer to Neriad, more power than it had cost to stop the faceless attack.

“I know what he is and I also know what he could become. And is this really the right time for a gotcha moment, you vindictive prick?”

Her tank soon crested the hill and she saw the battlefield in its entirety. The warlord was hyping his men who were even now walking up the incline, starving as they were, in complete violation of common sense. Her soldiers were walking down with anger slowly roiling in their hearts in a buildup of violence. They were waiting for an order. They were waiting for her. Viv put the maximum power into her sound enchantment.

“For the Black Tide. CRUSH THEM.”

With the One Hundred heading the formation, the Harrakan line surged down the slope in a wave of fury and metal. By her orders, all of the crossbows focused on the Warborn exclusively. Some hid behind shields, most weaved their weapons to stop arrows. It didn’t make a difference. A Harrakan bolt could not travel as far as an Enorian arrow, nor could they shoot as fast. But what they did have was penetration.

The first three ranks of Warborn simply collapsed in a mist of blood, overwhelmed in an instant. The rest fell faster than they could come up. Viv fired her own artillery at the faceless who were now focusing on her, their own attacks pinging uselessly against the shield protecting her front rows. Far to the left, the Knights of the Blue Roses made first contact against the militia and just rolled over them.

Viv’s attention turned to the warlord. A black cloud rolled over him, forcing the bolts to ping away. Interestingly, some of the bolts were enchanted by the markswomen and they still had no effect. She could always leave him to die from power overuse but that didn’t feel right.

“Solfis, I’ll kill the faceless first. Keep our friend entertained.”

//Do you need him dead?

“I will need a word. Be sure to show his weakness to his men.”

//It shall be my pleasure.

//SWITCHING TO DUELLING MODE.

Viv cast spell after spell after the faceless. Their leader raised a fist and a green light surged, striking dozens of militiamen whose bodies burnt to a charred husk in an instant. A Green shield rose from the ground to encompass them. Her artillery spell hit it with violence, leaving deep ripples on its surface.

The One Hundred were the first to hit the shrieking, bleeding mass of the Warborn. Their cold rage turned them into a wall of steel that no projectiles could reach thanks to Viv’s cover. Inside of the dome, it was formation to formation, and Viv got the confirmation of what she had hoped for the past few months.

They might be hideously expensive, requiring more steel than an average squad for every soldier, a massive supply train and road but once on the battlefield, a Harrakan heavy was the unstoppable force and the immovable object. The supposedly best infantry of the continent surged against the indomitable wall of the One Hundred and failed. Calmly, methodically, the Harrakans cut them apart. There were no gaps in the formation, with each soldier supporting the other by their side, or in front of them. The Warborn sought flesh and found only metal as unyielding as the ones wielding it. They burnt their failing life force and it did not help. Far to the sides, the Hightree and Children massacred the militia without contest, backed by devastating spells from the unleashed mages. A rotating blade of transparent mana carved into a flank that disintegrated almost instantly.

Twenty seconds into the battle, parts of the enemy formation were already routing.

But the Warborn didn’t care.

It had never been about winning, for them. Viv wasn’t sure what it was about. A last stand? Petty violence at any cost? One last bite at the approach of the end?

She didn’t really care, not anymore.

She focused her entire attention on the faceless shield and the spells they were weaving. Divine mana made the counter tricky because it seldom followed the same rules imposed upon her. That was fine. A few Durandal spells hit the barrier without much effect. Right, the faceless were not casting it themselves so she couldn’t disrupt it easily. It was probably fueled by the dark god himself, to an extent.

Brute force it was, then.

“Hyperbeam.”

Viv’s ray of pure void hit the barrier head on. It bit into the sphere and bent it, slowly. Energy crackled with such power that it covered even the din of battle but Viv didn’t let go. The faceless grew frantic under the onslaught. They were about to cast. Viv stopped and waited.

A moment later, three balls emerged from the Hallurian’s position. One to each shield array.

Viv slowed her perception of time to the very limit. The spell was… incomprehensible. It used all four shades of primary mana as well as life, black, and transparent dyes. It was both complex and yet made of very simple parts assembled together. She recognized it from one of the reports she’d read on faceless magic. It was a chaos ball. Its only purpose was to disrupt constructs.

She knew what to do. Focusing, she wrapped a Durandal spell inside of a thicker construct. The mana groaned under her will but she could not be denied. The mages were not too far now, maybe fifty paces. She had only a second…

The spell was off. It screeched under her fingers as it went. The missile-like projectile hit the ball and pierced through, unraveling on contact. The payload hit something and both spells exploded harmlessly over the heads of the dying Warborn. The entire Hallurian army was holding by a thread by that point, despite their numerical advantage. She had to break them fast before her people tired. She redoubled her efforts.

On her right, Sidjin picked the chaos ball apart methodically by targeting its weak point.

On her left… nothing.

Viv panicked and searched for Rakan. He was standing atop his tank, looking contemplative. The ball was about to hit when he flung a counter.

It was… another chaos ball. Albeit a simpler one. The two spells hit then canceled each other.

“Rakan, the battlefield is no place to experiment!”

“But that looks like such a useful spell!”

Fucking genius copying spells mid conflict. Viv cursed until a sound like shattering glass spelled the end of Efestar’s shield. Viv was about to capitalize on it but the moment the protection failed, all three mages sprouted feathered shafts from their eyes. All three at the same time.

Viv turned to see a nearby squad of Sisters of the Eye whooping and cheering.

“No sense of propriety. Well, whatever.”

A few astra spells obliterated the cores of resistance among the Warborn while the combined efforts of Heavies’ defenses and the roaming squads of witchpact made short work of them. It helped that the incline allowed all of them to shoot over their allies without Viv having to raise a platform. The engagement was just perfect, and the Hallurian army, much weaker than it appeared. That left the warlord. Viv stepped down from the tank and left it moving forward. The spell had enough reserves in its core to last for a few hours at this rate.

She levitated over where Solfis was dueling the warlord to a standstill. The bone golem toyed with his prey, using his superior range to pick the man’s armor apart strike by strike. The warlord fought using two strange axes made with some sort of chitin. He was talented but not talented enough. Something told Viv he was new at his job. A brief inspection confirmed it. He was barely on the fourth step, and not a strong one at that.

As Viv landed, the heavies around her redoubled their effort to push the remaining Warborn aside, leaving the warlord completely cut off.

“You need to get some better champions, Fefe,” Viv said.

The foe roared and jumped towards her but she easily saw it coming. An extended hand directed the next kinetic spell.

Contrary to that little exhibition in the tent, this time, she didn’t hold back. The warlord’s body crashed heavily into the dusty, corpse-covered ground. He stood back up.

Viv smashed him down again.

She wanted him to come out, and he did.

The body of the warlord writhed on the ground. Viv saw panicked, frantic eyes under the closed visor and there was a brief struggle, then the eyes turned entirely black.

Slowly, the puppet stood back up.

A wind of change turned that part of the battlefield… different. Many of the heavies turned while the crossbow wielders stepped back, their confidence eroding under the malevolent aura exuding from the fallen foe’s broken form. Even defeated and battered, the shape inspired an animalistic terror that overwhelmed the senses. The man’s jerky movement made him dip into the heart of the uncanny valley. Viv stood her ground.

“WELL WELL WELL. LET ME HEAR IT NOW. WHERE ARE YOUR JAPES, TRAVELER? WHERE ARE YOUR WITTY BARBS?”

The voice was a scream of agony and a mocking whisper at the same time.

“I know what you are. I know what you do. I also know what you could be. Farren was a friend and he fell, and for what?”

She turned one of the bodies at her feet, a young Warborn, tattoos dull and unresponsive. A smirk had frozen his face into a death rictus.

“Just another bunch of losers barking at the moons. Look around you. Is this what you want to be forever? The last refuge of the petty?”

“EVERY HORRIFIED GLARE. EVERY PAINFUL OUTRAGE. EVERY SANCTIMONIOUS BASTARD WHO LOOKS IN HORROR AT THE MAN HE THOUGHT WEAK. I SAVOR THESE MOMENTS. YOUR FRIEND THOUGHT A FEW WORDS COULD REPAIR CENTURIES OR CARNAGE. AT THIS POINT, I AM DOING YOU A FAVOR BY PURGING THE FOOLS.”

Viv stepped forward but she did not cast, not yet.

“You’re just trying to get me angry, Fefe. I can’t be angry right now. I just look around at this entire fucking waste and all I feel are pity and regret.”

The dark god finished assimilating the host and the puppet grew in size, the armor darkening. Shadow spikes covered the cracked armor until it was slick and oily. Ominous cracks made the soldiers recoil. The voice was more unified now, and deeper, more mocking. It switched language to old Harrakan.

“People like you, who have the means of their end, cannot understand the pain of utter powerlessness, Viviane the Traveler. There are sins that can never be repaid unless they are by my hand.”

“I would have no problem with that. This world needs a little more justice… but you’re not acting for justice, at least not yet. You’re acting for petty vengeance for slights real and imagined.”

“All slights are a matter of perception.”

“Semantics? Really? Fefe—”

“DO NOT CALL ME THAT.”

“Fine, Efestar then, who used to fight for mankind, where has that left you? All that vengeance and that pettiness and your mind is stuck in a cave on a throne without a court.”

“I am a KING! Enough. I think I will have to… teach you some manners.”

The armored colossus disappeared.

Behind her.

Viv barely had the time to shadow-step out of the way. Even then, an armored fist clipped her shoulder painfully through the pauldron.

“Aegis.”

Fists smashed against her hive. Very, very powerful. She lashed out with a net but he stepped aside. Viv noticed he had quarrels stuck in his back.

The avatar of Efestar looked out towards the nearest group of witchpact. Viv couldn’t allow that.

“Excalibur.”

The blade of hungering darkness hissed through the air and Efestar grabbed it.

Viv knew that was impossible. The blade had no consistency. It was not physical. Efestar, apparently, didn’t care. With his other hand, he waved and the same green barrier raised around her to form a small, contained arena. Viv was trapped.

“Enough distractions. I believe I promised a little punishment.”

“Smells weird in here,” Viv said.

The flesh of the avatar’s fingers boiled where they held the still hissing Excalibur spell. Efestar considered his crumbling digits with detachment.

“Hmmm.”

“As I said, not a great host.”

The avatar backhanded her faster than she could perceive. The blow stopped against a hastily raised shield, her instincts having screamed to her. He was so damn strong she was pushed back through the spell. Her pseudo-wings dug in reality to anchor her for the next blow and, this time, she didn’t bend.

“Shatterstar.”

The shield exploded. It forced the avatar back a few steps and that was enough for Viv to change that side of the arena into a hell of whipping tendrils, in vain. Efestar was gone. She filled the arena with lashing tendrils but the aspect of the guardian effect weakened and slowed her offense. Even at her best, she wasn’t sure she could have touched Efestar. He was dancing away from the chaotic trajectory with disturbing grace, considering the weakening host. More cracks of tearing flesh joined their echoes to the song of battle. He was an assassin. Viv was trapped in a cage with an assassin god.

That was… suboptimal.

But she always had solutions.

“Deadlands domain.”

Black mana flooded the enclosed space. Viv randomly teleported around, shattering her shield and reforming it as fast as she could. Her reserves dropped precipitously and she drew some power from her dagger focus, just in case. Efestar was picking her defenses apart with a methodical approach she didn’t like. The abyssal gaze behind the glistening black visor felt… bored. Or detached.

“Harrakan domain.”

Efestar stopped as the world inside of the arena turned gray. The host had stopped growing. He was now an armored form half again as tall as Viv but that was not what worried Viv. Efestar’s form was lean and well-proportioned, a far cry from Octas’ misshapen abomination they’d defeated in the spider village. The proportions had changed as well. While the warlord had been a stout man, this entity was lean and long-armed. He stood on the balls of his feet with a relaxed posture as if this was a mere warm up. A part of Viv wondered if by punishment, he meant a scar or if he would flay her alive. She wasn’t eager to find out.

“Rather optimistic of you to use black mana on me.”

He wanted to talk? That was fine.

“And yet,” Viv said, pointing at his chest plate.

Blotches of darker gray were spreading across its surface and there, the metal lost its shine. Some of the deleterious effect touched his pauldrons as well. Efestar watched the effect with the first sign of excitement he’d displayed for the whole fight.

“Impressive. You are a decent duelist, for a caster.”

“Thanks, I try.”

“However…”

A dagger of viridian darkness materialized in the avatar’s hand.

All of Viv’s instincts screamed ‘oh shit oh fuck’ at the same time. She overloaded her shield for all it could contain then infused it with the meaning of change, because annihilation would not do.

A shock. A clang. The blade of the dagger smashed clean through it anyway, but the blade stopped a couple of centimeters above Viv’s nose and through her roundshield. She could see the edge with disturbing clarity. It looked nasty. Efestar’s hand was stuck against her spell.

A cold chuckle made her grit her teeth.

The wave of terror emanating from the avatar was starting to crack Viv’s resolve, eroding it as well as her chances of winning. It was taking a lot of effort to look as detached as Efestar was. Bastard was winning hard. She had to keep the pressure up.

“Shatterstar.”

The host was pushed again.

“You are only delaying the inevitable.”

“Epicenter.”

This time, the host felt it. The pure wave of change and destruction crashed against the failing avatar, cracking the shell further. Wisps of power abused the straining remains of the warlord. Efestar perceived it. He snapped his fingers and the arena barrier fell down.

Viv pushed the power up as it was freed, away from her soldiers. An instant later, Efestar snapped again and the barrier returned as if it had never been gone. Most of Viv’s effort to turn the place to poison had been undone. There had not been enough time to turn the land completely.

But that was fine.

She’d already won.

“Well, outlander? Any more tricks?”

“Not a trick, a reminder that contrary to you, I’m not alone.”

Serrated claws shred through the back of Efestar’s knees. The avatar stumbled and twisted, lashing out with a blade but Solfis was already gone. The golem took Viv’s side while runes shone on his bony frame, indicating he was working at maximum capacity. A ping resonated against the barrier. The One Hundred formed a ring and pushed their enchanted spear into the barrier under the imprecations of Ban, straining it. Viv could see from the expression on Ban’s face that he wouldn’t accept an order to retreat. Efestar smiled, uncaring. His focus was on the golem.

“Irlefen’s contraption. We meet again.”

//How many times must I kill you, I wonder?

“And how’s your master doing?”

//There is nothing you could possibly say that would make me angrier than I already am.

Efestar made to move but his right arm crumbled to dust. The dark gaze watched the stump with mild frustration. Viv wasn’t sure if he didn’t care or if it was part of his persona. Perhaps it was both. Gods were strange beings.

“Looks like time is up. I’m serious, Fefe, you could really do better.”

“Gods do not change, outlander. I know of nothing else.”

“We both know that’s a lie. You lot are still growing.”

“All I know, all I want to know, is vindication.”

“Look,” Viv said, expanding her arms, “I am no stranger to vengeance myself, but you are doing petty tit-for-tat when you could have justice. There are too many sins committed in this world and too many of the perpetrators get away with it because of their status or their personal might. I have fought against that as well but I didn’t do it by killing off children. You are limiting yourself.”

“What do you know? You are just a mortal.”

“So were you, before, and you slew a god.”

The avatar smirked. The pressure lessened. The barrier fell, though a gesture was enough to hold the One Hundred back. Viv realized that more troops had joined the heavies and so had Sidjin and Rakan. The pair was working on some nasty tracking spell while keeping an eye on the foe. Not that it would matter. Efestar’s host was falling apart into dust quickly, the flesh left behind hard and black like obsidian. His gaze went over the assembled soldiers though, once again, Viv could not read him.

“You stood for justice once, Efestar.”

“Then you must know that I cannot let go,” the god replied with a cold voice.

“You do not have to let go to get better. Your actions hurt you and us mortals more than it hurts those who wronged you. Direct your fury at those who deserve it instead of blindly lashing out. You know there are many wrongs you could rectify if you bothered to try.”

“You know nothing,” the crumbling avatar said.

“I’m turning my vision into a reality with those who share my ideals. You’re leading beastlings and the dead. Reconsider.”

“You’re quite like him, you know? Your friends die around you but your beliefs never waver. You will still fail. I will teach you…” the fallen god said at the last of the host fell to ashes.

His voice still carried in the wind.

“You are so young still…”

The dust held in the air for a few more seconds, until the unforgiving light of the sun returned and dispersed the last of the darkness.

Viv breathed out in relief. Not dying yet.

Focus +1 to 45

Acuity +1 to 45

Those were some amazing gains. At her level, every point made a difference in how well she could cast.

Due to successfully leading an army in battle and facing off against the avatar of a god in single combat, your leadership has massively increased.

Leadership: Intermediate 4 to 6

Viv almost expected draconic intimidation to progress again but unfortunately, it was already so high it would take a few more extraordinary deeds to make them progress even more. That was fine.

Soul Master: intermediate 4

That was probably for withstanding the pressure on her soul. Something told her the stat would be useful soon.

Thanks to the implementation of a new spell and having stopped the strike of an avatar of the assassin god with two different shields, your shield mastery has massively improved.

Shield mastery: intermediate 1 to 4

That was nice and would prove useful the next time she would do something suicidal. Very nice.

Ok, all good. Viv breathed out in relief.

That had been far too close for comfort. Suddenly, she remembered that they were supposed to be fighting a battle and that it had all gotten rather quiet. She looked around, seeing that the Warborn were all dead to the last while the militia milled around in packs, uncertain on what to do. A thin line of Children of the Scale kept them at bay from the rest of the army which had centered around Viv and her duel. They were ready to help her, she realized. They were going to shoot a god’s avatar to protect her. That warmed her heart a little.

“Right. First things first.”

“If I may,” Rakan said from the side, leaving poor Sidjin to dispel their dangerous work.

“Yes?”

“I believe I can get the survivors to surrender and follow us. Those are not warriors but laborers, as your soldiers have probably noticed. They are little danger to you. With the warlord dead, I believe I can get them to stand down.”

Viv glared. The amount of fools trying to redeem worse fools was now three and they had one dead and one dark god manifestation incident. Problem was, she had no justification to refuse.

“You do it from here.”

“Of course. And… sorry about Farren.”

“Finish what we started.”

“Right.”

Viv kept a look on Rakan while he made a small speech threatening the laborers, reminding them they were less than nothing and that the warriors had failed to protect them. One of the hardiest of them stood up from the group and turned back to his peers.

“Are you really going to surrender? We are Hallurians! We—”

The man’s next words were interrupted by a steel tip down his throat. He fell heavily, spinal cord severed.

A few of the laborers dropped their improvised weapons, then surrender spread like a wildfire. Those who attacked their companions were swiftly picked off by crack shots.

“They kind of stole my kill with the mages,” Viv grumbled to Solfis.

//Oh no, the Sisters of the Eye, an elite outfit of sharpshooters, eliminated priority targets by shooting them in the eyes.

//Such an unexpected development.

//Who could have foreseen such an event?

“I told you to turn on the sarcasm module only when we team up on other people.”

//Apologies.

//It appears my hypocrisy module is deficient.

Viv sighed. She knew Solfis and he was trying to distract her. Lorn was already walking back from his spot at the edge of the army where he had fought during the battle, moving through the no man’s land between the Children and the surrendering Hallurians.

“We have wounded? Anything we should help with?” Viv asked Ban.

“Yes ma’am. We are tallying the wounded and the dead. Neriad’s followers are already healing those who need the most attention. I shall take care of the prisoners if… well…”

Lorn found Farren’s body and hugged him.

“I’ll be right back. Find Zero Five and have him get the valuables from those tents. Might have some maps as well.”

“Very well, ma’am. Should we share our food and water with the prisoners?”

“We have no choice in the matter. Neriad demands it of us.”

The god’s favor came with a slew of obligations that were, essentially, a sort of Geneva convention that didn’t cover the use of any weapons. An enemy that surrendered should be treated well within reason so Viv literally couldn’t deny them her help.

“I hope Jaratalassi doesn’t get mad, your majesty. That’s a lot of folks hanging around his backline.”

“We’ll transfer them tonight via gate. Depending on what Rakan promised them, we may get some new Harrakans.”

“Those savages?”

“They’re mushroom farmers, Ban. Not Warborn.”

“Hmph!”

Viv walked towards Lorn who was still wordlessly hugging the remains of the voice under the vigilant attention of several squad of heavies working very hard at pretending to not notice the tears dripping down his ruddy cheeks. Viv stopped by his side and kneeled. Farren’s chest was a mess but the spell had left his face intact and it was caught in an expression of pained focus. She waited a while for the old temple guard captain to recover. It took several minutes during which Viv waited in silence. Koro stopped at some point to offer support, the Amazon warrior not masking her grief.

“I told him not to do it, Neriad as my witness,” Lorn eventually said.

Even his beard was getting wet. Viv felt a pang of guilt and annoyance, at herself and the rules she’d decided to live by. In hindsight, letting people do dangerous stuff because they were responsible adults was kind of shit if it killed them.

That was the thing about hindsight though, kind of hard to have it beforehand.

Maybe, if she’d just told Farren he couldn’t try, that would have been it. Oh, they would have fought over it and there would have been consequences, but he would have lived.

Maybe he would have fought her, though. That would have been just like him to stare down a figure of authority telling him what he couldn’t do.

Maybe it was just not her call.

She really didn’t know. Was there even a good answer? If there was, she didn’t have it.

“So they decided to surrender…” Lorn said, apparently to keep himself occupied.

“Yes. We’ll take care of the wounded then move. This is hostile territory. We can’t afford to get caught.”

“I suppose you are right. I will carry him. And Viv?”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me why you were having a discussion with a dark god?”

Viv felt annoyance fill her chest. Her first instinct was to tell Lorn that after he’d faced an avatar in single combat, he could whine about it, but that would be petty. Lorn was reeling from the loss of the one he was supposed to protect. He was like a wounded beast attacking the first target in sight. Viv could be better. She had to be better.

“Efestar tried to tempt me several times. I have returned the favor.”

“You know that if you attract his attention, he’ll send his agents after us, right? Lose more people because you had to have the last word?”

Viv breathed in then leaned forward until her unsettling gaze could dig into Lorn’s. He sustained it.

“Lorn, when, not if, the dark gods send their agents after us then we will do what we always do. We will track them down and we will kill them. I have done that many times. You know this, do you not?”

He blinked and suddenly, his attention returned to Farren. The hold on the young man’s body grew more taut for an instant. Then, Lorn took a deep breath.

“Yes, I… I will bring him back. We will bring him back home. His ashes, at least. Forgive me, I must walk around the field to make sure the dead do not rise again.”

Viv nodded, then she returned to her tank. Rollo was waiting for her.

“Your Majesty. I saw you fight the avatar of a god to a standstill. That was the deed of heroes.”

“Yes. Sadly, the dark god himself was not receptive to my arguments. I asked him to rejoin the light.”

The handsome knight laughed at that, though it remained subdued.

“Hah. Your legend grows, Viv the traveler. I will make sure your duel is immortalized in ballads. It would not do to let such an impressive deed go unnoticed!”

Viv wasn’t sure what to think. It was good that she would be seen fighting a dark god but the talk might be received poorly, depending on who believed it. The tally of the dead soon came to distract her. Six of her soldiers had died, two heavies and four crossbows. All of them had been hit in the head and were dead before they could be revived, the heavies killed through their visors. It had been a one-sided battle but there were no wars without fatalities, it seemed. Viv would bring their bodies home at least.

It took two hours for the prisoners to be fed and ready to march, their wounded carried in makeshift sleds. Zero Five brought back an assortment of curious clay tablets, the only signs of writing. They were encrypted so even Rakan had no idea what this was all about. Little of the rest could be used. Even the weapons were strange and unfamiliar. With no distraction left, Viv ordered a brisk march home, hoping to be back before sunset.

On the way home, the tales of her duel were passed through the ranks, those who were close enough slowly tricking their tales down the lines via the most gossipy of the markswomen. Viv let it happen. Her soldiers were really pleased with having someone who could fight off an incarnate god and hold a conversation at the same time. As they approached the mountains separating Halluria from Baran, a messenger on horse rushed to see her.

“General Jaratalassi requests that you hurry back with all haste!”

“Ah, but… he gave me another task,” thought Viv, who had not had the time to set up her portal yet.

“You must return now. The enemy will be here by nightfall.”

“Everyone, double the pace. Let’s head back.”

By the time the sun set at their back, Viv could see them coming. Lights, in the distance. A lot of torches and lanterns like a fire snake crawling over the desert.

There were quite a lot of them.

Chapter 156: The Weavers of Fate

“You are bringing a thousand Hallurians into our camp? Are you completely insane? This is a ploy by those treacherous savages!”

Duke Eikart was livid.

Viv sighed as she leaned back into her seat. Farren was already missed. He would have had some pointed comments that only worked from the position of moral superiority, one she didn’t have on account of her reputation. Totally undeserved, that.

“I’m sure Empress Viv has things under control?” Duke Falstag said with hesitation.

“It’s simple,” Viv replied. “They surrendered, so I took them prisoners—”

“They lie! They’re Hallurians!”

“I took them prisoners,” Viv continued through gritted teeth, “just like Neriad demands and just as I committed to when I accepted him as the patron god of New Harrak.”

“Your oaths will cost us our victory.”

“Those are mushroom farmers and tunnel diggers, not shock troops! Most of them barely have combat skills. They will not be a problem.”

“Can you guarantee it?”

“Yes, I can.”

Eikart huffed, which pissed Viv off. She knew that his land was being attacked and that he was under a tremendous amount of pressure, so being a little bit of a twat was to be expected.

“You are overconfident,” Eikart grumbled.

Despite all her sympathy, Viv still had to put some boundaries. Slowly, she placed both hands on the table. She deployed her anchors, which reminded Eikart of what she was. He peered into the void of her sclera, and he remembered.

“I am me. And they will not be a problem,” she stated.

Solfis and Zero Five shifted at her sides. They were the most… physically intimidating members of her retinue, and a subtle reminder that they were under her control.

“We may be able to transfer them tonight,” Jaratalassi said, breaking the stalemate.

The general smiled affably like the sly dog he was. His presence dispersed the tension with a simple and acceptable proposal. Viv’s gates would allow them to be transferred to a distant city where they could not sabotage the troops.

“Very well… but my subordinate will go with them to inspect them… just to make sure there are no issues. If the witch gate is destroyed…”

“Then I will rebuild it,” Viv replied.

“It may be so. A thousand mouths to feed will strain our supplies as well… We do not want Hallurians in Baran. They do not belong.”

“They have agreed to follow me to Harrak as my… underlings,” Rakan said.

The mage moved forward. With his staff, he looked very magely. A proper caster and all. Perhaps that was the only reason why the dukes tolerated the interruption of someone they must see as an inferior.

“I merely ask that they are let through.”

“Do as you wish if it can get them off my back.”

Viv imagined Lady Azar’s expression when a thousand submissive farmers with no belongings would flood the land right before harvest and smiled. Not her problem, or at least not yet. Hey, the old woman always said she came to Harrak as a challenge. There, a proper one, provided not even by Viv herself. Enjoy!

“If we are done with the matter of the prisoners, I would like to address our plan for tomorrow,” Jaratalassi said.

Everyone gathered around the table where a detailed map of the surrounding area waited, dotted by little figurines representing different groups.

“Our scouts report that the enemy has made camp ten leagues away from our positions. They certainly know we are here, therefore we should expect an attack tomorrow. Cloud Skull’s men report a mix of footmen and soldiers mounted on, and I fear this is the truth, large bipedal lizards. Some report larger specimens…”

“Those are the ruler and priest castes,” Rakan said.

Jaratalassi looked on curiously. Viv had never seen Rakan so smug and aggravated. He was clearly angered by the words of Duke Eikart about people who were technically his compatriots. She frowned and remembered then, that he was from a family of laborers and hunters.

He had more in common with the prisoners than he did with the Baranese and it showed.

“I have spoken with the community leaders — those are the equivalent of ‘village heads’ in charge of enforcing production quotas. They had much to say about our common foes.”

Even Eikart listened with begrudging attention. She felt a hint of pride at seeing how much Rakan had grown since they had met, from a shy outcast to a confident expert. She exchanged a glance with Sidjin and they smiled.

That smile didn’t last long.

“The enemy is a species that calls themselves the Empire of Dawn or the Nemeti, which means Chosen of Fate. They claim to weave the threads of destiny through their priests, and given some of the rumors, it might be true. They are separated into four castes. At the bottom are the laborers who are subservient and about the size of a human child. They do not fight. The few present will not pose a threat to us. The second caste is, I’m sorry to say, the females. They are said to be more feral than the rest and spawn dozens of creatures at once. The third caste is made of warriors. Those are the ones we will fight.”

“What else did the prisoners say?” Jaratalassi asked, enraptured.

“They said that the warriors move very slowly, then very quickly, then slowly again. Warriors are taller than most humans and they have scales, feathers too. They… look a little like snakes, or lizards, but bipedal and with a short snout. They use few armors but a wide variety of weapons of stone and metal. The last caste is the leaders. Their priests act as war mages, according to the rumors.”

“Those laborers know a lot.”

“They heard the whispers from the Warborn. One of them served the faceless before their demise.”

“Is there more to say? About their numbers?”

Rakan shook his head.

“Nothing reliable. The problem is that laborers and Warborn only gather in large numbers on very rare occasions while administration is handled by highborn women, which means that… most of the people we have here don’t know how to count above one hundred, if that.”

“Well, that certainly limits their scouting abilities.”

“What they say is that the Empire of Dawn attacked with a massive army, yet despite that, they still suffered heavy losses at first. After that though, they seemed to have rolled over Halluria with minimum difficulties.”

The statement was received with consternation.

“How is that possible? Should it not be the contrary?” Duke Falstag asked.

“That is… counterintuitive,” Jaratalassi conceded.

Viv agreed. Logic would be that after a few decisive engagements, a large nation would collapse quickly if their elite military were to fall, but that was without accounting for Halluria’s peculiar political system.

“The warlords should have united after the initial attacks against them succeeded. What happened?” Jaratalassi asked.

“I don’t know and they don’t seem to know either. The servant who worked in the warlord’s tent said they were desperate. That they could not win. There were many talks of hopeless last stands instead of an organized defense.”

“They were already defeated? That sounds preposterous. It could just be the novelty of being invaded?”

“It might also be due to their methods,” Rakan continued. “You see, once they find a hostile new city, they always operate in the same way. They encircle it, then they attack with overwhelming force. They do not stop to regroup or plan. They just keep attacking until they break through, and when they do, they slaughter all who resist and many who do not.

“Those who surrender and survive become thralls, allowed to keep their weapons but bound to perish shielding the Nemeti from arrows or ambushes.”

“Wait, and those do not revolt?”

“Apparently not. They say those who are defeated are crushed for good.”

“This sounds… so outlandish.”

“Then the victors eat the dead, both theirs and that of their enemies. They… they say they butcher humans and dry the meat to eat on the trail…”

“May the light gods shine upon us, is this true?” Falstag said.

“The little intelligence we have seems to agree. That certainly solves the food problem,” Jaratalassi commented.

“One last thing. The Empire of Dawn does not interrogate their prisoners. They follow fate to their next target. They spread over a large area until they find a place that resists them and then.. they gather again.”

“So we…”

“Yes. We are next on the list.”

“And those troops outside that already outnumber us…”

“Are just one of their vanguards. There should be more. They have not had the chance to replenish their numbers after taking Halluria so, at least, we will stand a better chance.”

“This idea of fate is certainly concerning. And you say they have priests?”

“Yes, war priests who also serve the role of casters, though they do not appear to have mages per se. The laborers do not know what they worship, only that it is not one of our gods.”

Viv hesitated. Jaratalassi caught her expression while the others discussed in low voices.

“Viviane? Something to add?”

“Well. Fate mana exists.”

Silence spread among the assembly. Cloud Skull made a strange, warding sign with his fingers. He seemed worried.

“Pardon?” Eikart’s head mage said.

“Fate magic exists. Dragons can touch it though we humans cannot even perceive it. It is the domain of… distant causality. I find it hard to explain.”

“What would you know about dragon magic?” the mage half-scoffed.

Someone muttered in his ear and he fell silent.

“Arthur told me that fate magic was fickle and extremely difficult to properly employ because it worked on… large-scale events. To use it perfectly requires an understanding of all the ins and outs, something not even the gods can manage. If the Nemeti do have access to fate magic, they might influence events to favor them in ways we cannot even anticipate. We are going to need those reinforcements sooner rather than later.”

“I have already sent a courier asking them to come as soon as they are ready, and not to wait to group up. I am confident we can hold this pass,” Jaratalassi said.

Viv thought that they’d better or there would be nothing left between them and the evacuation gate. She didn’t have the time to improve the network.

The discussions continued for a little while. Jaratalassi determined the best way to defend the pass while the fortifications were still being built. It was decided to leave the pass a little to occupy the top of a hill that overlooked the surrounding area. That way, the Paramese Alliance could make full use of their ranged troops which the Nemeti seemed to have few of. They could still retreat towards the pass to allow their line to contract if there were any issues. The cavalry would be held in reserve in preparation for a counter attack, in case they needed to buy some time. As they left, Viv informed Jaratalassi of the bad news.

“I didn’t have the time to set up the second gate.”

“That’s fine. As a matter of fact, Cloud Skull reports that a group of human thralls is moving towards the forest. Tomorrow morning, I would like you to engage and destroy them then build a gate. If you are cut off before you can return, use the gate to regroup.”

“Won’t that warn the enemies?”

“I’d rather you escape and burn our contingency rather than lose the entire Harrakan army. And I fear that tomorrow is our only window, if the Hallurian laborers are to be believed. After that, attacks on our positions will be relentless. You do not have to agree, of course. It is a dangerous gamble.”

Viv faced Jaratalassi as the man sat there, waiting for her judgment. She considered leaving it to luck before realizing that it was just one of the general’s many ploys. Just as he let people bicker to get it out of their system, he also left generals some leeway with how they operated.

Jaratalassi gave her an encouraging smile. He was as much a politician as he was a war leader. That was probably a necessity for him.

“Sure, I’ll do it.”

“Hmm. I expected more hesitation. You’re rather confident.”

“I am confident that you won’t send me to my death. Just, please, treat the lives of my people with utmost care. Because I trust you and I am counting on you.”

“I understand. You are here, Viv, at my request. I will get as many of your folks back alive as I can.”

“Alright. Well, I should head back. We have funerals to attend to.”

“Yes,” Jaratalassi replied.

He took a swig of his flask. Viv kept quiet.

“Never gets easier.”

The night was cold here, comfortably so after the sweltering heat of the desert. Viv took in the scent of pine burning, the embers floating up to the distant sky. Some of the Temple Guards were singing a sad dirge somewhere to the side.

Viv peered at her helmet. The light of funeral pyres reflected on the smooth surface of the embedded crown, one that she still had to grow into. Farren was… not her responsibility? Or was he? She still hadn’t decided. There was a siren call to drop everything in the pursuit of power, to push everyone away until she could no longer be hurt and her magical power grew so much she could destroy any threats, but of course, that was a trap. The black mana running through her veins whispered promises of destruction on those who opposed her, a sweet lie. There were always more threats, always more people to protect. The truth was that she would lose people until her time came to be lost in turn. To refuse that fact was to refuse her humanity. She needed her humanity, or she would turn into something much worse than Elunath.

A gust caught her hair. It was long now, longer than ever before. They reached her shoulders.

She preferred short but noblewomen kept their hair long as a display of privilege. Laborers didn’t have the time to take care of long hair. They could also get in the way of physical work. So Viv wore them that way because it was expected of royalty, which she technically was.

How much was this world shaping her? What was left of the earth Viv?

“Your thoughts, darling?” Sidjin asked by her side.

He bumped against her shoulder and she leaned against him. He was a strong presence, reliable. He knew pain more than anyone else as well.

“Just wondering how much of me is still me.”

“Oh you mean you have changed? Congratulations on being alive.”

“Tsk. You know what I mean. I’m even doing politics.”

“As you should since you are a politician. If your concern relates to morality, don’t worry, we shall keep an eye on you. Not just me, but your friends as well. Even Solfis will stop you if you slip up.”

//Pure evil is counter-productive.

“See? You are supported by a great many people.”

“That is not, ah, it does not matter. I suppose I changed to help people so, in the end, I can live with that.”

//If it helps, your Majesty, I made some changes to myself as well.

Viv blinked. She remembered him absorbing the memories of other units back in the old capital. Solfis was a gestalt as much as he was himself.

//But my core programming has not changed.

“I see what you’re getting at. Don’t worry, The funerals just… make me doubt a little. Farren was one of the few original pillars of Kazar still alive. We’ve had… so many losses since then. Mayor Ganimatalo. Varska. The guard captain. Now Farren… An entire generation of leaders, gone.”

//The march of fate requires… sacrifices.

“You… think I made it happen?”

//No.

//Individual decisions still depend on those who take them.

//You will merely… be in the trajectory.

//Lancer would have attacked no matter what.

//He started selling the Kazaran lands before you were even on Nyil.

//I checked.

//Because I was curious.

“Then what do you mean by sacrifice?”

//Just that.

//When history is made in Nyil, it is written with the blood of the people who touch it.

//You may grieve, but tomorrow, you will fight to the best of your abilities and forget those doubts.

//You will keep our people alive.

“Yes. You can count on me.”

//And I will fight to keep you alive too.

The Harrakan column climbed down the slope in silence. The air was fresh and earthy for now, the rays of dawn coming from the desert barely warming the early morning air. Behind them, the crumbs of the Paramese alliance arrayed themselves on top of a small hill in preparation for the day. Viv’s army would leave them behind then climb back up north towards the nearby pine forest huddled between two sheer mountains. Zero Five appeared by her shield array.

“Enemy troops. Humans. They look weak.”

“We’ll dispose of them then return.”

Ban looked back but an order spoken through their communicators kept him going. They wouldn’t have cavalry this time since Rollo had stayed with the rest, which meant that if the enemy disengaged fast, they wouldn’t really have a way to run them down. What should she do? Besides hiring a dedicated tactician so she could focus on magic.

“Ugh.”

//We will be there soon.

Viv did her best not to look right towards the rolling hills where the Nemeti hid. She could see some of the markswomen casting concerned glances towards the impending threat. Viv was worried as well. All her instincts screamed that she was leaving a fortified position before an imminent attack, that she was going to be cut off. Her mind rejected the possibility of portals as an escape. Her self-control allowed her to keep a perfect composure for the others but there were still too many unknowns, too many doubts. She didn’t like it.

Slowly, the column moved into the forest. Viv decided it was time. She used her communicator,

“Zero-Five? Where are they?”

“Two thousand paces to the north. I will guide you.”

“Very well.”

Switching to full frequency, she addressed all the leaders.

“The enemy is over a league away. We will now deploy in a loose line to catch them. The Children and Bitter Hearts will form the rear guard. The Temple Guard will hold the right wing. Reports say the enemy is weak and disheartened but you will not lower your guard. A cornered enemy is at its most dangerous.”

There were a few acknowledgements. The army deployed as Ban directed them, and Viv used the opportunity to climb a small hillock to create a gate. She resisted the urge to activate it just to see if it worked. It did. She could feel the connection. It was fine.

“Contact. Three hundred paces,” a voice said.

“Halt.”

The army came to a stop just as Viv returned to her array. This was it. Fighting in the forest wouldn’t be optimal but as she climbed in her seat, she realized it would be necessary.

“Forward.”

The Harrakan army moved slowly forward across the line. Sergeants made sure to keep the formation mostly stable despite the many trees and boulders blocking their advance. This was an old pine forest, with thin trunks and beds of dry needles that smelled heavily of sap. No low growth blocked her sight and the same was true for the enemy as well. Panicked shouts soon echoed ahead. Without prompt, the army accelerated. Lak-Tak, Viv’s pilot, carefully maneuvered to avoid running into trees. Soon, they were out with heavies properly arrayed in front of them.

In the heart of the forest was a narrow but long clearing cleft in two by a brook. It was mostly dry but some clear water still sluggishly down a slope and along that brook, a mob had formed a, well, a camp, she guessed. Mostly, people had collapsed where they were into a disorganized line.

“Is that the dangerous foes we’re supposed to fear?” a cocky sister whispered to her neighbor close enough for Viv to hear it. Her neighbor slapped her shoulder then made Emeric’s warding sign against bad fortune, a sentiment Viv shared.

They were certainly a pitiful sight. Some of the more robust were Hallurian guards and slingers but there were also emaciated men with pale, slightly bluish skin and light eyes, the first instance of a shade different than brown Viv had come across here. She inspected a few.

[Sorelian skirmisher]

[City Guard of Pranth]

Those names meant nothing to her which could imply only one thing. Those were survivors from human cities from beyond the isthmus.

The Nemeti had certainly come a long way.

The most interesting part was that Viv couldn’t see any of the true Nemeti, the insectile lizards. The thralls really were without surveillance. There had to be a reason why they were so confident their humans wouldn’t escape.

As the heavies finally stopped, the distance between them and the nearest enemy was so close there wouldn’t even be time for them to charge. Viv searched for a danger, like a hidden caster, but there seemed to be none she could see. The entire group was barely a thousand strong and they were so exhausted, a full quarter didn’t even rise to face their deaths. Some shook and seated, perhaps weak enough to be sick which rarely happened to adults on Param. Their equipment was a mismatched assortment of half-broken gear she wouldn’t even give to bandits. She could have handled them with a handful of… no. She could have handled them alone.

Viv thought about Farren. She knew what he would have asked her to do. Those people were already lost.

It felt like repeating his mistake but…

No, it would be honoring his memory and the strength of his conviction. He may be gone, but she didn’t need outside action to remember what it meant to act humanely.

But she would do it her way.

Viv raised through the air and anchored herself slightly above ground in plain sight of the horrified thralls. Elevation let her notice that a more solid kernel of resistance was anchored around a pair, a Hallurian ‘Speaker for the Trade’ and an eastern soldier. Even then, whatever resolve they still had was quickly crumbling.

Viv deployed the full extent of her aura and smothered them. There were individual tokens of resistance but those collapsed almost immediately. Her soul turned cold and practical as a side effect of the skill, the icy disdain seeping into her heart to alter her outlook ever so slightly. She would give them a chance, and then they would take it, or they would die.

“You,” she said in Hallurian, pointing at the pair. “Surrender or perish."

A sound enchantment carried her words across the clearing, echoing in the brook and amid the trees. The men cowered, but then, something incredible happened. The emotion spreading through the clearing was not despair, or terror, or grim fury as she expected. What she got was relief. Relief and a bright, pure, intense hope.

It was inexplicable.

In an instant, the situation was reversed. A feedback smashed against intimidation and turned it against her in a double bond she could not quite explain. The temptation to stop was strong but her instincts were silent. Somehow, the situation felt right. Or better than the alternative. She wasn’t sure.

The pair of men pushed their way across the prostrating mass of pitiful soldiers, faces twisted with the creepy smile of the devoted fanatics.

“Hold your fire,” she ordered.

The sisters tsked and lowered their crossbows. It was pointless to waste ammo on those dregs anyway, Viv thought.

The men approached just as the wind shifted and brought the horrendous scent of unwashed bodies. They fell to her knees not far from the unmoving wall of heavies.

“Mistress,” the Hallurian said. “Mistress, your words… we can hear them.”

What the hell?

“Explain,” she demanded.

The man licked his cracked lips. His long, filthy hair bobbed as he spoke with a broken voice.

“The masters took our will. I don’t know how to explain… I just don’t know. We cannot, we could not say no as soon as we said yes. The Nemeti. They defeated us and then we were…defeated.”

Viv deactivated her anchors as she moved closer.

“How so? Is that fate magic?”

“Magic, yes, from their priest. The priests told us they were chosen of fate and we were not and then, it was true. But not you, mistress. You spoke and I could choose that it was true! You are outside their spells! How could it be?”

That was a surprise. And even a little suspicious. After what the Hallurian prisoners had said, she expected the thralls to fight to the last.

“Perhaps they haven’t cast their magic on me yet?”

“No, mistress. We had to fight our own people alongside foreigners,” the Hallurian said. “We had no choice. It was just how things were.”

Viv didn’t comment on the use of a Hallurian slur for strangers though her glare made the man whimper. His companion turned and spoke excitedly in a tongue she’d never heard before, a flowing one with few gutturals. Viv waited patiently for him to finish.

Far behind them, drums rolled over the plains. A shift spread across the Harrakans. It had begun.

They were on a timer.

“Mistress. My friend asks if you could have someone else order us. He says that if someone else can do it, then the chains may have been broken.”

“Sure thing. Ban, give them an order.”

The old bearded bastard strode ahead with absolute confidence. He pointed at the nearest thrall. Viv was confident the laborer he’d picked didn’t speak a word of Harrakan, Enorian, or other continental tongue. It didn’t matter.

“You,” Ban said, pointing at him, then the ground.

“Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees. NOW!”

Viv had never seen someone happier to collapse. The poor sod even hit the ground with his forehead in a gesture of complete abandon. The really creepy thing was the expression of utter felicity on the others. The fanatical intensity irked Viv, who had been to church before. That sort of faith could be dangerous.

Nevertheless, the gesture was confirmation of what the Speaker for Trade thought. He whooped once before regaining his composure.

“Mistress. It is as I believed. You broke the chains of fate! We are at your mercy.”

He bowed as well, followed by all those who were not already prone. Supplication spread like a wildfire across the pitiful mob until all Viv could see was a collection of bent back and dirty necks.

That could only lead to one thing.

“Fuck, Eikart is gonna be so mad.”

“Are we taking them prisoners, milady?” Ban asked.

“Looks like it. Ugh, and there is no time. Get me Lorn on the double.”

“If I may, Your Majesty, we might also want to detach Mother, the Bitter Hearts captain. She has a way with lost lambs.”

“Sure.”

It took less than a minute for Lorn and the guards to come, along with a portly, wizened woman with a radiant smile that seemed to cover her whole face. Meanwhile, the thrall commander waited at a distance.

“Here is what we’re going to do,” Viv said. “I’ll activate the portal. You get the prisoners through there and in a separate camp away from ours. Just let them pile on somewhere while we’re away. They will surrender all their weapons, up to their damn knives, before they cross over. They will comply with every order. Those who resist will be slaughtered. And get Eikart’s spymaster to ask them a few questions.”

Lorn nodded.

“If I may, we will need medical support. Our own won’t be enough. We could request some of Eikart’s healers.”

Viv shook her head.

“They will refuse and besides, we’ll need them fresh for our soldiers. Do what you can but if they die, they die. Our own people get priority.”

She gave him a pointed look to see if he would challenge her on that.

“Maybe that’s what Farren needed. Practicality,” Lorn said with resigned bitterness.

Viv immediately felt sorry for the guard. She’d succeeded where he had failed but it had been luck. That’s just how things were on Nyil, apparently.

“If I may,” the Hallurian Speaker said in perfect Enorian.

He’d been waiting at a polite distance until this treacherous revelation that he could understand everything they said.

“Could have told us,” Viv said in a low tone.

“I apologize. I should have explained. My path is that of a linguist, hence how I became the leader of our sorry troop. Do not be alarmed. I will work with your guard captain. We will never be a nuisance to you, Mistress. You have freed us!”

The way some of the prisoners looked like her like the sun rose out of her ass certainly put weight to his words. Viv didn’t like it one bit though.

“Very well. Zero Five?”

The shadows coalesced into a bald, axe-wielding murderer.

“If any of them try anything, kill them.”

“It will be done.”

“Alright, we have wasted enough time. You lot form up, I will bring our army back to allied lines.”

“Not through the portal?” Ban asked.

Viv shook her head.

“The aperture is rather small. It would take us too much time to filter through there and then walk back to the pass. We’ll only do it if we are really cut off.”

“Understood.”

“Mistress, one last thing?” the Speaker said with eagerness.

“What is it?”

“No matter what, you cannot lose, Mistress. If you lose once then it is close to over. Even one such as you who ignores fate may not resist if the Nemeti defeat you once. Do not be beaten. Please.”

“Not planning on it.”

Viv looked on as the Harrakan reformed on a background of confused mutterings. They almost sounded disappointed. Meanwhile, Captain Mother took control of hundreds of fighters in only a few moments.

“Alright people, now be a dear and form a column three abreast! Three! One, two, three! Yes, well done. There’s good lads.”

Viv activated the gate out of sight of her men, then stayed long enough to make sure there were no issues. The less people knew about the gate the better, even though the Nemeti didn’t seem inclined on interrogating prisoners. After climbing back on her array, she used her communicator to bring Sidjin up to speed.

“What do you think?” she eventually asked.

“I have two explanations for you. The first is that you’re an outlander. your fate was never to be born on Nyil. You were brought here by divine act, hence why fate magic is disturbed by your presence. The second possibility I see is… are you secure?”

Viv set up a sound barrier.

“I am now.”

“The second possibility is that the spark of luck is an instinctive use of fate magic.”

“That would make a lot of sense. Humans may not cast fate spells but that doesn’t mean we can’t interact with it instinctively.”

“Like monsters have innate abilities, yes. No matter what, the fact it works might give us an edge.”

“We shall see.”

Viv heard the din of battle long before they exited the forest. She had the array tank roll forward ahead of the formation so she was one of the first to crest the edge of the incline overlooking the battlefield.

To her right, the mountains extended high while in front, the hill leading to the pass was still held by her allies. That was as far as it went for good news.

To the left, the Nemeti covered the hills in their thousands, crashing against the kernel of resistance in unceasing waves. The descriptions the prisoners gave them didn’t do them justice. They were thin and muscular, scales and colorful feathers adorning their unclothed bodies. Their faces were saurian in appearance though the skull possessed a chitinous, insectile quality. They wielded shields as well as blunt weapons and spears which they used with grace. The constant drums Viv had been hearing were a song of sorts, and the Nemeti moved according to its beats. As she watched, a unit advanced slowly towards the bracing troops of Duke Falstag, then at the last moment, they sprinted forward with amazing speed, crashing into the grim infantrymen with extreme violence. Another group disengaged from Cloud Skull’s southerners leaving the southern barbarians battered and bloodied. That relentless dance of patience and aggression covered the whole battlefield. Entire Nemeti units waiting patiently at the edge of the melee for their turn to engage. And that was just the warrior caste. The rulers stood behind.

As Viv watched, a group of three tall Nemeti sang around a strange contraption, the unholy child of a catapult and an antenna. The weapon roared and a fiery, screaming projectile arched across the sky. Some of Eikart’s mages managed to intercept it but the debris still fell among their archers, killing some of them. Behind that was another group of rulers with crimson feather and sparkly armor among an indistinct shape in a cloak while just below Viv, the enemy cavalry was pressing Eikart’s spearmen. And by cavalry, Viv meant bipedal lizards mounted on what she could only describe as velociraptors on steroids. The tactics they used were the same. Charge, disengage, charge again, and the Baranese were getting trounced. Bodies flew with each impact, some of them in pieces.

The drums kept rolling. They saturated Viv’s ears with their oppressive drone.

She could summarize the current situation of the Paramese alliance in two words, one of which was quite rude.

“Well, shit,” she said as Ban joined her side.

“Your Majesty, it appears our side is about to be overwhelmed.”

Viv could tell they were about to break. A part of her wanted to lead her people back to the portal but she couldn’t. Not because it wasn’t feasible, but because of the implication.

First, she could not be defeated by the Nemeti. Running away felt dangerously close to that.

Second, there was only one reason why Jaratalassi hadn’t ordered his men to retreat back to the pass just yet.

He was waiting for her.

“Yes, that gives us exactly one tactical option, Ban.”

“So it would seem.”

“Then make ready.”

“Aye, your Majesty. Immediately. WEDGE FORMATION. PREPARE TO CHARGE!”

The cry echoed across the line. Viv ignored the chatter in her communicator. Instead, she linked to the casters.

“Sidjin, we’re going to need some wide area spells here.”

“What a coincidence, I happen to be versed in them.”

“Lana?”

“I will cover the Children of the Scales on the left flank. If we could have some elevation, Rakan?”

“I will raise them for our marksmen then run disruption.”

“Perfect,” Viv finished, “then good luck.”

There was no time for speeches. Some of the Nemeti had already spotted the tight ranks of heavies cresting the edge under the call of war horns. Viv had her array move to the front due to the slope and checked if everyone was ready. They were practically bristling.

“Finally, a real battle,” the chatty sister said.

Viv amplified her voice with a spell. She raised an Excalibur over her head. Then, she spread her anchors and screamed.

“Send those bastards back to where they came from. Harrak Eternal! CHAAAARGE!”

The army roared, Lak-Tak pulled the lever and the array tank rushed down the slope at the speed of a decent car. The heavies fell behind and as she turned, she could see a wall of steel wielding a forest of spears, the tips of quarrels visible behind loaded with the promise of violence. White pennants held high spoke of pride and effort. Wind caressed her face in a moment of exhilaration, the weightless feeling of building momentum. Below, the Nemeti turned to her and pointed. It was difficult to read their expressions but if she had to make a bet, she would say they looked shocked. Nevertheless, the tank was going quite fast and she had to admit the Nemeti riders looked even bigger as she approached. They were half again as high as she was with the array under her butt.

Big fuckers.

“Right, let’s slow this down.”

Viv pulled the brake lever. There was a nasty, unpleasant clang.

She looked at the piece of broken lever still held in her hand.

“Please tell me this is a fucking joke. NOUS!”

“We. Will slow down. Organically,” her Yries driver clicked.

“Lak-Tak? What do you mean, organically. LAK-TAK?”

The owl-like being pulled another lever and spikes rose from the armored front of the tank, facing forward and upward.

“Use. Cushions.”

Viv grabbed the leather belt she’d insisted on having and strapped herself in. They were very close now, close enough to see the powerful legs of the raptor mounts in painful detail. The riders turned to her and charged with screeches, spears aimed forward. She was confident in her shield but she didn’t like the threat of inertia. It was always the same issue with cars. Going fast never killed anyone. It was abruptly becoming stationary that did it.

Lak-Tak pushed the speed lever as fast as it would go. He ululated a defiant war cry instants before impact. Viv brought up her shield, protected her neck, and prayed to the god of illegal battlefield racing.

The array collided with the charging raptors.

Now, Viv knew Nyil was a world of magic where miracles were commonplace. It was also a world ruled by more or less the same laws as earth and it was safe to say that the shield array tank weighed around six tons. Six tons of enchanted, reinforced steel except, apparently, the fucking brake lever. Those six tons speeding down the slope met one ton of saurian flesh around the heights of their knees with the good old adage of kinetic energy is half of mass times squared velocity. One of the raptors tried to stomp the tank. It didn’t work very well. Viv knew this because a bloody, severed toe remained lodged in the cage around the habitable.

The Nemeti had a tank accident.

The sound of cracking bones and bruising flesh covered even the rumbling call of the drums, yet they still failed to mask Lak-Tak’s insane cackles. Viv unfastened the belt with a pained wince when they finally slowed down. Had to hurry. She climbed out, facing herself face to snout with one of the creatures clinging to the metal structure with furious desperation. Around her, all that was left was carnage. The thin line of cavalry who had tried to stop her was crushed and the rest had retreated to a respectful distance. She could see the white of the eyes of the Baranese spearmen locked in a desperate struggle. The clinging Nemeti was picked off by Solfis by means of a hand through the torso. Deploying in all his nightmarish glory, the golem emerged from behind the tank like the world’s most undesirable stowaway.

//AH.

//NEW SKULLS.

//YOU ALWAYS BRING ME TO THE MOST INTERESTING PLACES, YOUR MAJESTY.

“My pleasure,” Viv replied as she touched the spell array.

The scenery around Viv was surreal. The Hundreds of Nemeti just turned to watch her in utter shock while she activated the shield, hesitant to cast offensive hexes lest she wake them up from their surprise, and then with a collective, deafening shriek, they threw themselves in her direction. Viv faced a mass of scales, claws, and blades but she was not worried. The voice of Ban and the trampling sound of human boots served as a sufficient warning.

“For the Black Tide!”

The Harrakans crashed into the enemy force, and in Viv’s view, the bared fangs were replaced by the armored back of her people.

It was time to do what she did best.

Duke Eikart watched the wave of black-clad infantry smash the Nemeti flank aside. Those that did not perish on spears were trampled and finished off by screaming harridans wearing skull makeup who fell on them with long knives and a grudge. The rightmost group linked up with his beleaguered men while the center bit into the enemy formation like a blade, rending the foes before they could regroup.

A forbidden emotion filled his chest, one he had not dared experience since the beginning of the defense. Hope!

“Can they really do it?” he asked his spymaster. “Are they really heavies? Those at the tip.”

The man used his advanced inspection skill. His eyes widened.

[Path: third to fourth step, elite infantry.]

[Gear: full runic set.]

[Morale: unbreakable]

“No sir, those are not heavies.”

“Ah.”

“Those are Black Guards, Your Grace, the Emperor’s finest. The rest are Harrakan heavies.”

“Palace guards? I… I thought the art was lost.”

“It’s the golem,” Jaratalassi said as he approached. The tired general frowned. For some reason, it looked like the enemy was attacking the Harrakan center with furious zeal.

“But you are missing the point. When I told you I would not have agreed to fight without the outlander, I was not referring to her infantry. You see, every decade, a genius war mage changes the battlefield by their mere presence to the extent that strategies are built around or against them.”

Below, a black cloud swallowed the initial Nemeti charge with a low hiss like an angry kettle. It left nothing behind it but scoured sand and silence. Blood spilled the earth when a large vortex opened on the right flank, the transparent construct soon stained with enough blood to reveal the jagged teeth of a massive grinder. Meanwhile, towers rose from the ground under the feet of crossbow wielders who barely paused, lining shot after shot over the heads of their line holders. The beleaguered alliance rallied while the drums grew frantic.

“Harrak currently has three of them. Now, Duke, I will lead the cavalry for a sortie as it will soon be needed. Would you care to join?”

Chapter 157: The War for Param.

“Nuée.”

Viv’s spell traveled over the heavies with a loud whomp, then the thick dark ball expanded in a malicious cloud of devouring miasma. The ravenous fog traveled across the plane with a terrible hiss, leaving behind nothing but half-voided corpses. To her left, a beautiful cloud of moisture covered the allied ranks with a calming mist. A quick glance revealed where the water came from. An entire company of Nemeti had been turned into so many desiccated corpses, and yet, it didn’t matter. New squads sprinted over the distance, impaling themselves against the heavies with desperate fury. The men held their ground with grime determination, yet even their formidable armor could not protect them entirely. Blood was spilled.

The savagery of the foe left Viv flabbergasted. Gone were the methodical attacks and breaks of before. Now, the strange lizard beings assaulted her army relentlessly and the focus of their hatred was clearly and concerningly, her. There wasn’t a single moment of respite for the One Hundred. Every enemy that fell was instantly replaced by a fresh one. At least, they could not cycle-charge into her ranks.

“Dammit.”

Viv interrupted her next spell when she saw the arcing forms of crimson divine spells heading straight for them. All of them. The siege engines spew flames across the skies.

“Need some support there,” Viv said.

The spell arrays were several hundreds of meters away and she wouldn’t have the opportunity to do anything but defend.

“On it,” Sidjin said.

“Calibrations complete,” a voice clicked.

The first Yries projectiles launched, much faster than spell. They crashed against a blood-colored shield without much success. Soon, she had problems on her own.

“Aspect of the Guardian.”

Her first interception spell split the enemy attacks without breaking them. They fragmented, yet they could not be made to change course. They would land where Viv was and that was it. It was their fate to collide, it seemed.

//Your Majesty!

“I got it! I got it!”

Viv was forced to use Durandal spells at point blank range, the aspect shortening her range. She managed to detonate most of them but the rest hit the huge shield, sending drifting shockwaves across its surface. Viv replaced the damaged segments as fast as she could. The pressure increased dramatically while her reserves melted. She was forced to pick apart attacks designed to land no matter what. Her focus narrowed until the battle faded from her perception. There were only shimmering hexes wrapped in divine mana aimed at her, not the place she was, not the tank, her specifically. Viv peeled off the spells and broke it apart in a contest of will between her and the Nemeti’s unshakeable belief that she should not exist. With so much of their mana above her, she could almost taste their horror, their rage at her nature. The duel continued and she realized she was losing ground. More and more damage accumulated on the array. The Nemeti were going through her aspected defense by throwing everything they had.

And then, the assault lessened a little. Her focus broadened until she saw servants coughing and holding their throats, the siege weapons discarded. Sidjin’s answer manifested as a portal blinking into existence next to another pair of arrays. The portal closed almost immediately, leaving behind a small sphere hovering above the ground, which the Nemeti fled from in an instant. It wasn’t enough. Unfurling like a flower, a transparent grinder pasted everything in a thirty meters radius including servants and several machines. So, that was what he’d been working on, Viv realized. She realized he had just created a mid-range attack that went through shields.

She’d have to steal it somehow.

The pressure decreased and her shield regained its luster. Unfortunately, that was not the end of Viv’s woes. More reinforcements were rushing in from over the horizon, confirming what the Hallurian speaker had said. Now that some of the Nemeti had made contact, they would converge like flies drawn to a wound. There was blood on the water and they were here for it. This was merely the beginning.

“Brace!”

In front of the One Hundred, a large gap had formed. The distant, hooded figure had regained control of his troops and now she had to contend with his intellect as well. Cavalry was massing ahead of the thin line of spears and Viv didn’t dare release her aspect lest the spells still falling towards her might still pierce her defenses.

“The knees,” Poacher screamed, “Get their fucking knees! KNEES!”

The marksmen commander rallied her troops. Feathered bolts lanced the scaly legs of the Nemeti mounds as they gathered, many falling before the attack could start. A part of Viv knew this was a lot of ammo, more than they could spare, but they had no choice. She had to rely on them now. It was their war as well.

Needled and exposed, the Nemeti mounted riders charged before they could truly form up. Three-meter tall, velociraptor-mounted warriors were still a terrible sight to behold. And she couldn’t help. There were still too many incoming spells.

“Tighten the formation! BRACE FOR CAVALRY,” Ban roared.

As one, the heavies raised their spears up and planted their shields down. The back ranks placed their hands on the shoulders of those before them while the markswomen fired nonstop. The velociraptor’s skull plating made killing blows difficult despite the crossbows’ penetrating power. Viv suspected a skill was involved.

“Cross fire,” Poacher ordered. “Right to left, left to right. Get them!”

Around Viv, the Sisters turned their weapons at an angle, attacking in diagonal where the eyes were exposed. Ululating warcries rose when their quarrels found tender flesh. The charge collapsed because the mounts kept dying, blocking those who came behind. The effect on the Nemeti was devastating yet, if anything, the witchpact’s prowess only seemed to anger them further and the survivors still made for her with maddened determination. Fiery explosions bloomed across the struggling ranks, adding to the chaos. Rakan’s touch. He was coming to support her, but he wouldn’t be on time.

In clumps, the remnants of the cavalry assault fell on the heavies. Ban stood among his men. He lifted a battle standard displaying the black and white flag of his nation.

“Harrak eternal!”

Viv felt him come to life. Mana rushed through the lines and the One Hundred, normally silent, roared in defiance. Raptors claws fell on their shield and the monster pushed back the man, but not his companions. Feet dug in, hands holding shoulders, the line buckled and yet, despite the difference in weight and power, it didn’t break.

And then it bounced back.

Spears thrust up, skewering tender underbellies. The heavies hacked and punched through scales with steel fury and the riders died with their mounts, except for one. A large red specimen didn’t stay with his mount. Instead, he jumped up and above the heavies just as the charge came to a grinding halt.

Viv watched him, the beady, slitted eyes, the crimson scales, the stony armor above it. The Nemeti was easily twice as tall as she was and it was a mass of lean muscles. Two bolts jutted from his forearms yet he showed no signs of pain. Twin dark scythes descended on Viv.

She didn’t break the shield, only watching him impassively, because she knew she wasn’t alone.

At the apex of his jump, the Nemeti slowed, then as if tied to an elastic string, he was pulled back. His muscular body crashed on the ground between Viv and the heavies.

//NOT SO FAST.

Solfis released the creature’s heel. The two deadly combatants faced each other. Even the maddened Nemeti knew Solfis was not the sort of opponent one could ignore.

//I NEVER HAD A SKULL QUITE LIKE YOURS.

Viv didn’t listen to what the Nemeti spat back. She guessed he was one of the ruling class ones. If so, they were throwing a lot of assets in order to kill her. Her eyes searched the battlefield for what was happening. Sidjin was holding the right. His group had linked with Duke Falstag’s rough soldiers and now they anchored in a defensive position. Sidjin protected them by the expedient means of mincing anything he perceived as a threat. The enemy seemed to pace themselves as a result. In fact, the entire Baranese group had rallied and they were now advancing, covered by their archers and mages. More spells reached the Nemeti shields which forced their priests to focus on defense as well. On her left, Lana’s group was contracting and turning to prevent them from being flanked, denying the engagement. She was also turning the ground to mud at their feet which made charges that much more difficult. Nevertheless, the Children of the Scales was the most battered group.

It was really the center that was getting the most pressure.

Viv swore and focused on her defenses again. All the siege weapons were aiming at her and only at her. Some of the more armored Nemeti companies were rotating behind their lines to move towards her, larger creatures with giant hammers. They wanted her extra dead. She’d never felt so flattered before.

Despite the difficulties, pride filled her chest.

It was working.

Her setup was working. The tercios were functioning just the way she’d hoped. Right now, the Harrakans were out-performing everyone else and they were doing so with minimal casualties. So long as those shields were maintained, her people would make it. She just had to keep them up. It was all up to her.

If she died…

No, she wouldn’t. Not now. Too much depended on her. The Nemeti wouldn’t be so enraged if she wasn’t a threat. So she allowed herself one tiny smile, then she returned her full focus to keeping the shield up. For a moment, the stalemate was maintained which was costly for the Nemeti, but soon drums redoubled their sounds and the enemy disengaged.

“They’re going to charge again, Your Majesty,” Ban said. “We have to keep up with them.”

“But the markswomen…”

“Can still cover us well if we move up by thirty paces.”

“Alright.”

The One Hundred were the first to close the distance, preventing the Nemeti from charging again. Viv noticed they didn’t use their charge skill and she knew why. The day was nowhere close to finished and the men would tire quickly.

Infantry moved forward across the entire frontline. They ran down the slope to engage the retreating Nemeti while archer lines moved forward. The southerners were particularly effective in that. Viv heard great bellows coming from their ranks and the battle grew fiercer. The fight seemed to shake the Nemeti, somehow, and their fervor cooled. They were still determined.

The battle devolved into a brawl which the Nemeti were losing, badly, thanks to the Harrakan mages. Viv still focused on defense until the surviving siege engines withdrew after one more Sidjin-bomb teleport.

Soon after, something changed. The drums rolled again and their forces retreated slowly over the flatter ground. The Paramese couldn’t follow there. They would be overextended.

A mountain of bodies were left between the two armies. Horn signals and a few runners ordered the Harrakans to pull back. On their way, the witchpact recovered as many bolts as they could, finished off the enemy wounded and rescued everyone they could find. Camp followers soon appeared with pots of food, with squads taking turns to eat and drink. Many of the heavies sat where they were, eyes searching the horizon.

“What’s the ammo situation?” Viv asked Poacher.

“Got girls ferrying more bolts from the camp. At this rate we’ll go through all we have in two days.”

“Even if we recover lost bolts?”

“A day if we don’t.”

Dammit that was bad news. More bad news appeared on the horizon in the form of reinforcements. Groups of Nemeti arrived ready for battle, possibly having stopped in their camp to drop supplies. She noticed that a great many were also dragging dead away from the no man’s land between the armies. She knew what it meant. They were having a late lunch as well.

That cut her appetite.

“Your Majesty?”

Viv turned to see a runner, a young girl who had recently joined the temple as a healer.

“Yes?”

“We have a problem with our healers and the refugees. Brenna said not to worry and that they were on it and in the meantime, our wounded are being healed by servants of Enttiku who recently arrived. We just wanted to let you know.”

Viv remembered that Brenna was the leader of the temple healers. She was in charge of the Harrakan infirmary.

“What sort of problem?”

“I… I dunno, ma’am. She wouldn’t tell me.”

“Hmm. You may leave, thank you.”

Viv considered the message. Had she made a mistake? She supposed she would see soon enough. The Nemeti army was reaching critical mass again. Their numbers blotted the plain to the closest ridge and beyond in disciplined squares of ready fighters. She could feel the weight of twelve thousand pairs of eyes searching for her hated presence while the priests intoned instructions. She felt the intensity of their hatred. It wasn’t clear why they detested her so much. Perhaps she was dangerous, or perhaps her presence went against their outlook as Children of Fate. It wouldn’t surprise her if they saw her as a freak accident that needed to be erased.

The drums beat again down in the valley. The Nemeti finished their preparations and soon, strange growls and hisses surged from their massed troops. They had split their cavalry in smaller groups now. There were also more squads of Nemeti wielding bolas, javelins, sometimes even stones. They were learning quickly but they still didn’t have an answer to the human casters. In fact, the siege machines were all hiding somewhere beyond the nearest ridge.

There were so many of them and yet more kept coming. Viv wondered exactly how many of the Nemeti were present at the beginning of the invasion for so many to be left after crossing Halluria, not to mention crossing the isthmus. It must have been an army of armies. A horde.

What was the Empire of Dawn and exactly how powerful was it? Viv hoped she wouldn’t have to find out any time soon. There were already enough of them advancing towards her position.

Viv watched the Nemeti slowly make their ways up the slope. When they were close enough, they charged into a devastating torrent of magic. This time though, more troops tried to turn them.

Viv lost herself in the flow of battle. While she ravaged any enemy in a cone in front of her, she was forced to pace herself in case the artillery engines returned. Worse, the rest of the casters were tiring. Sidjin, Rakan, and Lana had been fighting for hours and they were running on fumes. Only a trickle of spells still lashed at the Nemeti lines, mostly where the more dangerous elements converged. The air grew thick with the stench of smoke and the coppery notes of Nemeti blood.

The two armies danced a strange back and forth over the course of the next hour. The humans followed the Nemeti while they retreated to prevent another free charge. Sometimes, they would stand and fight. Other times, they retreated, leaving the humans to recover their arrows. By that point, only Viv’s spells still spread devastation though the Shrill made pinpoint attacks, sending hives to sting bola squads to death. On the third return, the human lines started falling back by order of Jaratalassi. The Harrakans still held the left flank and by then, Viv wasn’t sure the Children of the Scales would have time to withdraw if the line collapsed somewhere else. And then, just as the Nemeti were sprinting up the slope, horns rang.

Viv turned to watch a forest of spears exit from the pass, many-hued flags dancing in the wind. More horns came just as the Nemeti slowed down, unsure on how to proceed. The call of their drums grew more confused.

The distant shape of the red-robed Nemeti moved to a group of advisors and Viv knew that for them, it would be too late. With Duke Eikart at its head, the human cavalry charged down. First slowly, then with increased speed as they tightened their ranks and lowered their spears, the charge caught the Nemeti at the exact sweet spot when they were slowing down. Harrakan troops cheered when they recognized the black plates engraved with blue roses on their flanks. Rollo was leading the left wing.

The weirdest thing was that the Nemeti didn’t slow down. Instead of massing, they just kept running forward. It was as if they had never experienced a heavy cavalry charge. Perhaps, Viv realized, they hadn’t.

The Paramese cavalry made contact with predictable results. There was a terrible clash, cries of terrors and the furious, blaring call of horns when hundreds of knights made contact. For the first five seconds, they barely even slowed down. Barded horses mounted by expert warriors trained from childhood backed by advanced skills and the best gear skilled artisans could produce showed their worth and for a moment, it seemed the entire Nemeti army would collapse here and there. Viv didn’t receive the order to charge, however, so she didn’t. More wounded were ferried to the back. Everyone was taking time to recover.

Down in the valley, the robed figure finally regained control of his soldiers. He tried to cut the retreat of the cavalry by having squads close around them. Fortunately, Eikart and Jaratalassi easily saw through the ploy. They smoothly led their men back up. Once more, the Paramese alliance was left in control of the hill overlooking a mountain of cadavers.

Just as Viv was preparing a new series of spells, the drums rolled again and the enemy… left.

It was over for today.

Strangers worked in the Harrakan field hospital. Viv pushed back the sense of annoyance she felt at seeing unknown people on her territory, touching her more vulnerable people. It was misplaced. Those were servants of Enttiku doing their best to help as was their vow.

“How are things looking?” she asked the head priestess resting against a wall.

“Ah?” the woman replied, eyes glazed.

She shook her head and Viv caught tufts of messy black hair tucked under her cowl. The woman was clearly exhausted. She also smelled a little ripe, possibly due to wearing heavy robes in a warm tent at the edge of the desert. Now that she was looking around, quite a few of the bandaged men and women lying in their cots were sweaty.

“Oh yes, Lady Viv. Or was it Your Highness? Forgive me…”

“Lady Viv will do fine.”

“Yes. Greetings to you, milady. We have done what we could. Alas, sixteen of your people have ascended into the loving embrace of the goddess. The rest will make it.”

Viv bit her lips. It was probably not bad for a day of intense fighting. One of her earth teachers used to tell her that most middle age armies lost people to exposure, disease, and during routs. On Nyil, superhuman bodies and powerful healing magic offset the results to a great extent. Divine healers could repair damaged intestines or mangled livers in a day, not to mention soldiers surviving blood loss that would have killed any normal human. It was staggering. It was still sixteen people she’d led to their death. The elation she’d felt at the success of the tercios melted. On an intellectual level, she knew it was a worthy cause and she was at the front herself. On an emotional level, there would be funeral pyres tonight.

Viv buried her angst and resentment. She moved around the cots, greeting the wounded who were still awake and thanking the nurses of Enttiku for their work. Once she was done, she exited the tent to find Solfis and Zero Five looking around with vigilance.

“Guys?”

//Zero Five feels something.

“The shadows whisper. Blood will be shed tonight.”

“A surprise attack?”

“No,” Zero Five replied, shaking his bald head. “Some like us. Assassins.”

“Nemeti assassins?”

“Perhaps.”

“Fuck, I need to tell the other leaders.”

Viv sent a runner to the command tent but she didn’t go herself. Her first action was to go and find Lana.

“Yes?” the prim mage asked her at the entrance of her private quarters.

Lana didn’t have a single hair out of place. She looked like she was five minutes away from attending a function.

“I was wondering if you have any temperature control tools?”

“Of course, I do, as you know very well.”

“That was a rhetorical question leading to a request. Could you refresh the healers’ tent? It’s stuffy and I’d like everyone to be more comfortable. If that’s fine with you.”

“The hospital? Oh! Oh yes, I can help. And I can improve the hygiene as well. I shall gather supplies and help them by setting enchantments. An excellent initiative, Your Majesty. Was there anything else?”

“No, thank you. It will help.”

“I shall be there right away.”

There was one more place she needed to be. Asking around, she was directed to a remote camp by the forest surrounding the witch gate. Plumes of smoke rose above the improvised and unfortified camp. She walked there with an escort of One Hundred who didn’t take no for an answer, finding a pair of temple guards standing near the entrance. They tried to wave her away.

“What is going on?” she demanded.

“You can’t be here, milady. There is a plague!”

Viv frowned. A plague? A disease? Ban leaned towards her to whisper.

“Ma’am, if there is a magical plague and it escapes, the entire Paramese alliance will be at risk.”

That was, Viv realized, probably the plan all along.

Anger burned through her chest. Pure outrage locked her jaw as she struggled to maintain her composure. Those Nemeti had done that? The fuckers.

“You get back. Zero Five too. Solfis stays with me.”

“Your Grace?”

“I’m immune to diseases because I’m half-elemental.”

“What if you carry the disease with you?’

Viv tilted her head. He was right. She couldn’t get close.

But she could get above.

Viv used a spell to float around the camp at a decent distance. Many of the guards were currently asleep or resting with difficulty while those who could still stand kept guard. Some of the prisoners were helping by carrying water and cleaning around. She noticed the healers hard at work trying to keep both refugees and sick temple guards alike though she would have preferred if they kept their strength to hep their own people. When the prisoners spotted her, they regained those bovine expressions of empty adoration she had seen this morning, to her dismay. The healers were more subdued. Most of them meditated, trying to recover from the ordeals of the day. One of the shapes on a nearby bed turned out to be someone she was familiar with.

“Koro?”

The brave amazon warrior slept fitfully in a half-open tent, the twilight sun showing her pale tone. She coughed.

Brenna walked up to her at a slow pace. They stopped at a distance, Viv still hovering above the camp like the world’s most useless angel.

“A plague then?” Viv asked in a calmer voice than what she thought she could manage.

“Yes. It attacks the lungs and the digestive system as far as we can tell. The patients get dehydrated too quickly.”

“And… I assume it cannot be stopped?”

Brenna shrugged, exhaustion plain on her features.

“It’s always the same thing. We do what we can to make them comfortable. We quarantine ourselves and those we can quarantine, like Duke Eikart’s interrogators.  We use healing spells to repair the damage, then…”

She sighed.

“The disease will spread among the healthy and the healers until we run out of mana and exhaustion sets in. Then people will start to die. It never changes. Such rotten luck.”

“No, not luck.”

Viv knew exactly what was going on. The Nemeti had sent the group ahead expecting someone to answer and that someone would have come in close contact with the enemy army, spreading the plague. The Nemeti were probably immune due to their different physiology. The absolute pieces of shit.

“Ok,” Viv said to herself. “Ok, you want to play it dirty? I’ll fucking show you dirty. Just you wait.”

Anger rekindled like a sweet poison.

“Where are their leaders? Where is the Speaker?”

“They were already interrogated, milady.”

“Not for spreading the disease.”

Brenna blinked, clearly misunderstanding.

“They are vectors of contamination!” Viv exclaimed.

“What?”

“Urg. They are sent to infect people!”

“But… no one would be foolish enough to try and weaponize a plague? It is a plague! A terribly dangerous curse!”

“You guys don’t know about biological warfare yet. They’re doing it on purpose. They’re pushing sick people forward to engage armies first so when the Nemeti arrive, we’re all coughing and feverish. The absolute rotten pieces of shit. I’ll turn the desert into a mountain of skulls, starting with that eastern guard traitor.”

“Wait!”

Brenna breathed in and out a few times.

“Before you summarily execute prisoners, let us ascertain the truth. If they are consciously helping the enemy, we will handle them ourselves. Your… theory certainly has merits, but plagues and other body calamities are the domain of, well, I won’t say his name here. Please, exercise restraint. Those people are too harried and desperate to be malicious and diseases are common among weakened refugees. Do not assume that they are evil when they could merely be… not too sharp.”

“Come on, they crossed the entire isthmus and they couldn’t put two and two together?”

“I appreciate you possess an outlander mindset, however I assure you, only the most foolish of humans would willingly act as an agent of the bloated one. If there are any here, we will track them down. I doubt it, however. We were quite thorough.”

Viv smoldered but in the end, those assholes were not technically her prisoners. They were subject to the rules of Neriad. A part of her found comfort in the fact that, if the prisoners were indeed Typhoid Mary’s, Neriad’s punishment would be fast and really painful. She’d see the inquisitors do it.

And she had better things to do.

“Alright, I will be right back. There is something I can do that will help.”

Viv flew away towards the nearby mountain. She landed near a suitable rock, then started to carve small pillars. Solfis raced to her soon after.

//Your Majesty?

“I don’t know how to help with magical plagues because I know too little about what causes them. Intent is a defining aspect of spellcasting.”

//I know.

//I taught you that.

“I’m just setting the stage, Solfis. No need to activate the smartass module. Yes, I know! It’s always on. In any case, ‘kill hostile microscopic lifeforms’ is too vague. The glyph language is ill-suited to my needs and I don’t even know what the bacteria look like. It could also be a virus or a parasite. Or just a plain curse. Ugh. I really don’t know how to proceed.”

//You did mention difficulties.

“There is one thing that should help, though. Light.”

//Light?

//Could you confirm this statement?

“Yes,” Viv replied, carving glyphs on the first stone rod. “Light. More specifically, ultraviolets and more specifically, UVC.”

//I do not know this term.

“It’s something I read about when I was studying epidemiology. There is a… a wavelength to light. It’s very small, but ultraviolet is pretty close to the visible spectrum and I have a light spell…”

//With a slider to alter the wavelength.

//Thus altering the color.

“Yes! So I just need to make the slider longer. The spectrum humans can see ranges from around 740 nanometers to around 380 and the germicidal range is between two and three hundred, so using a linear scale…”

Viv finished her light spell. She pushed the longer slider from the default light blue position to a deeper cobalt then to violet, then it was invisible to her.

//I can still perceive the light, Your Majesty.

“You can see outside the visible spectrum? Wait, of course you can.”

//Irlefen believed it would be a useful ability.

“Ok at least I know it’s working. We’ll just drop these around the camp. It should help reduce the transmission.”

//Are there side effects?

“Nothing compared to death by plague. They should be fine in the short run.”

Viv worked on a couple of more of those, then decided to add a second slider with a soothing blue light on top of the other just for the placebo effect. She delivered the constructs soon after and received warm thanks from the healers. They were probably just glad to feel supported. Using the same technique, she ‘air-dropped’ more supplies. She used one last UV lamp to disinfect herself and hoped this would work. She was no real doctor, so that was the best she could do at the moment.

Her next stop was the Yries camp. The Shrill had gathered at the edge of their camp along with their parked vehicles. They rarely mixed with their human allies. Viv suspected it was half shyness and half rabid xenophobia. The Shrill really didn’t like humans very much if their choice of projectiles was any indication. They seemed to tolerate her though. Maybe because she’d killed a lot of humans.

“Yes!” Lak-Tak said, urging her in one of their mana-woven caves. While Harrakan structures were built with all the elegance of brutalist architecture, the Yries always spent time and effort making theirs look natural.

Viv appreciated it. It dulled her concern and some of her anger.

She would still make the Nemeti pay, of course.

“We apologize. Today, not very useful,” he clicked. “Nemeti skin. Tough. Stingers won’t work well.”

“But you have an idea?”

“Yes! Two. Come see.”

Lak-Tak guided her to a table where a Nemeti corpse waited, spread eagle and professionally dissected.

“Wow.”

“The Nemeti. They are lizards.”

“I noticed.”

“No. Cold blood. Need heat. Store heat. Spend heat. Move very fast.”

“So that’s why they attack in bursts?”

“Yes. Dangerous. By day!”

The gears in Viv’s mind clicked into place before Lak-Tak could even finish his sentence.

“The nights here are cold. Continental climate. A night attack?”

“Yes! But not now. Too many of them. Overextend. But they have a weakness.”

“Which is?”

“Their mounts. Hard to control. We noticed.”

“Uh, really?”

“Yessss. Many resist. Powerful. Yet double-edged. We turn them against their masters. Use pheromones.”

“How soon can you do that?”

“Tonight.”

“I’ll help.”

“Yes. You do. You are decoy.”

Viv frowned.

“I’m not sure I like that plan. Can we not use stealth?”

“You cannot. Fate cannot be hidden. Tonight, they come for you. And we go for them. Fair bargain, yes! You stay here as decoy.”

“Ooookay. Fine. It’s a good start. I don’t suppose you have diseases that only work on Nemeti?”

Lak-Tak shook his head.

“Not yet. No know-how. Allies sick?”

“The Temple Guard, yes. A plague. I don’t suppose you have something that can help?”

“We do.”

“I… Wait, you do?”

“Yes! Follow.”

Viv walked after the strutting owl-man. His long ears twitched with excitement as he led her into a buzzing room. There, in the center, stood a massive hive.

The wax construction felt organic and terrifying at the same time, a little too sinister in the way it curved, reminding her of her worst walls. More strangely, it was a light brown with bright blue spot which gave off the strongest ‘I am poisonous’ vibes she’d ever seen outside of an Australian aquarium.

“Honey bees!”

Viv assumed the Yries used the same word for ‘bees’ and ‘finger-long wasp’s scarlet misbegotten cousins with nasty hooked stingers’. That was the only reasonable explanation.

“Errr.”

“Oh yes.”

The Yries removed a piece of cloth from his pocket which he used to pat Viv’s armor. Her keen senses picked up a whiff of pungent, animalistic smell. Pheromones, probably. The hovering cloud of definitely hostile insects drifted away as she sighed in relief. Lak-Tak approached the hive and pulled on a cleverly disguised drawer. Viv could hardly believe her eyes yet here it was. Honey on comb. She would be salivating were it not for the strange color.

“Blue?”

“Yes. Made from special mushrooms. And Harrakan roses.”

“I don’t remember mushrooms having pollen?”

“Crimson dancers produce sweet liquid. Lures insects. Eat small ones.”

“Ok?”

“Also mildly poisonous. Good poisons! In small doses, medicine. You take. Purges the body.”

“And it will work on humans well?”

“Yes. Magical! We take honey before battle. Soothes the mind. Helps us get closer to the Dreamer in the Depths.”

A terrible chill crawled up Viv’s spine.

“The what now?”

“Our God. The Dreamer in the Deep.”

Images of big tentacle monsters and cities of chthonian architecture sleeping in the abyss, in some long-forgotten recesses of the world the rays of the sun never touched, and… ok that was definitely a little too lovecraftian for comfort.

“Hmm. And the god… does what?”

“Listens to our woes and brings comfort and peaceful dreams.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“The Dreamer is kind and we wish to say goodbye before we are not. Take a pot! Bring it to your people. One spoon each.”

Viv received the small jar with gratitude, then she was off again, ignoring a messenger telling her she was summoned to the command tent. The sick had priority here. Soon, she landed next to Brenna as she tended to Koro, Solfis tailing her just in case. The tall warrior was still on her cot, resting feverishly with her eyes closed. A tent covered most of her body but the head was left exposed in the quickly cooling air. She was sweating heavily.

Viv liked Koro. Koro had married Kazar’s most handsome concubine and named her first kid after Viv. Koro had lost her arm and then Viv had found it again. Koro was one of the few left from the early days of Kazar, still herself after all that shit. Viv would save her if at all possible.

With religious attention, Brenna dropped a dollop between the warrior’s blue lips. Koro licked them, then she opened her eyes.

“Ooooh that is… Oh, that is REALLY good.”

Brenna placed a hand over Koro’s forehead. A light gold radiance lit the evening air. When she removed it, she was smiling.

“It’s working. The infection is being pushed back. Thank you so much, Viviane. This medicine is nothing short of a godsend. Please, tell the Yries how much we appreciate it.”

“Oh, I will.”

“But why does the honey need to be hallucinogenic?”

“It’s what?”

“The effect is mild, I will grant you that. I still believe the medicine would be better off without it, especially because this specific patient has a history of charging through town naked to propose when subjected to significant excitement.”

Ah.

Lak-Tak’s mentions of ‘getting closer to god’ suddenly made an extraordinary and really upsetting amount of sense.

“Your Majesty? Vivane?”

But she would not answer. Viv’s mind was stuck trying to reconcile ‘I am a serious leader whose tactics carried my people through the day’ with ‘My entire artillery contingent goes to war high as kites on shrooms honey’, and no stats in the world could make that struggle any easier.

Chapter 158: Stand.

Viv rushed into the command tent, finding the leaders waiting for her. There was no denying that she was being rude even if it was only for a few minutes, and perhaps an apology was in order? The issue was, a sovereign should never apologize publicly. That was a golden rule her father had explained to her. It was either someone else’s fault, not a fault, or the end of your career. Although, those people were her allies?

Fortunately, the decision was made for her. There was a new man at the table in an adorned plate armor set that established him as a rich nobleman. The hound heraldry identified him as the Marshal of South End, a baron equivalent whose main task was to hold the southern barbarians at bay. He was militarily significant enough to warrant Viv’s full attention. He was also quite angry. His thin mustache quivered with rage, twisting his handsome features into a mask of outrage.

Surely being five minutes late didn’t warrant such burning hatred?

“You finally deign to grace us with your presence? Is this what the Paramese Alliance has devolved to? Rebels and savages and FREAKS?”

Viv took the opportunity offered by the diatribe to sit down, if only because remaining standing would place him in a position of dominance. She folded her hands together and waited with polite detachment for the storm to calm down.

“We are meant to be the shield of civilization, not some circus act! If my father could see how far we’ve fallen, he would rue the day he agreed to hold the border. Is there no more decency in all of Baran, no more honorable warriors that we descend to this—”

Viv tuned him out, preferring to look at the rest of the table. Jaratalassi was his impassive self and Viv got the impression he was so beyond politicking that he’d gone from patience to impatience to despair and at the end of that dark road, he’d found solace in nothingness. No one could get a rise out of him anymore.

“And so I demand that you withdraw your shadow devils from this plain AT ONCE! I will not have ASSASSINS in my camp!”

Viv blinked. This was about the Hadals?

In any case, the terms of the alliance were quite clear. He had no authority to order her to remove anyone. In fact, even if she were a vile traitor to Baran who supped on freshly baked babies in kitten sauce, she would still have immunity. As far as she understood, the only exception was the worship of dark gods. Genocide was fine.

Viv declined to answer the man’s fiery speech. He looked a little young, not as young as Duke Faltag but close. The silence dragged on which suited Viv just fine. She was the one with the literal dark glare anyway.

When it became clear she didn’t intend to reply, Duke Eikart made to speak as the eldest and most powerful among the Baranese, but to everyone’s surprise, it was Duke Falstag who spoke. The young man’s voice was slow and his words chipped, clearly articulated with great care, yet no one could miss the fingers gripping the table between them with enough force to make it groan.

“I think… that you should stand… for one day… one day… in the shield wall with us. Then, you can talk of valor. And of honor. Or decency. Stand for one day. In the meanwhile, you have no right, no right, to criticize her, or me, or anyone here, because we have bled for Param… and you have not.”

Cloud skull nodded, the Barbarian sporting a fresh scar on his chest. Meanwhile, Duke Falstag swallowed his saliva before he could even utter the last words.

“You have no right to demand.”

“It is as my young friend says,” Eikart continued. “The terms of the alliance are clear, Marshal Edretti. We can all appreciate your loss but everyone present is here because we place the future of the kingdom, nay, the continent, above all else. You too have committed to it. I merely ask that you respect your promise, no matter how costly it might be.”

The older man’s fatherly tone seemed to melt what was left of Edretti’s fury. Viv suspected he’d talked before he could think and the relative restraint of everyone present shamed him into cooperation. He blanched and his entire demeanor changed. It was like watching a balloon deflate.

“Very well. For the sake of the alliance, very well. But do not let your monsters approach me or my camp.”

“That is acceptable.”

Not like most of her soldiers weren't banned from one camp or the other for the crime of poetry.

“Speaking of,” she said, “Zero Five believes that assassins will strike us tonight. Or at least, me.”

“Who is Zero Five?” Edretti asked with suspicion.

Viv made a small sign of her hand and the Hadal’s presence faded. Giving the idiot a jump scare might not be conducive to good diplomacy.

“My head scout. If you have safety measures against incursions… now might be the best time to implement them.”

“Understood,” Jaratalassi said. “Do you believe they will go after you?”

“Seems likely,” Viv replied with a shrug.

She had no guarantee they wouldn’t go after targets of opportunity. When faced with Solfis and an elite Hadal assassin, even the most zealous people might want to hit a more tender target first but… she couldn’t know with the Nemeti. They were relentless.

“I shall spread the word after this meeting is done. Now, could you explain what is happening with the Temple of Neriad, please?”

Viv told them what had transpired and the measures she’d taken. As expected, Eikart had much to say about that.

“You were a fool to trust them. We are lucky we caught the infection before it could spread!”

“If my soldiers had fought them in close quarter combat, the situation would have been worse,” Viv retorted. “Instead, there was only minimal contact between our forces. This is the best outcome.”

“The best outcome would have been to shoot them from afar.”

“You know as well as I do that one does not waste precious ammunition on chaff just before a major engagement. Enough of this. I have shared all I have learned.”

“Quite so,” Jaratalassi agreed, “And since none of our soldiers appears sick yet, I shall pray to Sardanal that he may keep the plague at bay. I shall also add a directive as your commander.”

He leaned on the table, fists closed and gaze kept low.

“You are to kill every enemy human combatant before they enter close range. This is an order.”

The cold realization crept up Viv’s spine. The realization he was probably right. They’d lucked out with the prisoners so far, certainly thanks to her presence, but if the Paramese army caught the plague… It was hard enough as it was. There were a few cautious nods around the table though Cloud Skull didn’t seem to care either way. Jaratalassi had taken it upon himself to make a hard decision. Viv could object on moral ground to align with Neriad… or she could accept he was right and Neriad would tolerate it because that was how he worked. Viv just had to hope the Nemeti had no more human auxiliaries to draw from - although that meant they’d probably been eaten. She didn’t know which was worse.

“Now for the plan and our main objective. The Royal Baranese army is on the way, therefore tomorrow, we hold the pass. Our only measure of success is holding that damn pass. Even if we bleed, even if we die, even if we drown under a tide of scales, we keep holding the pass. We do so on the plain and on the walls or even in the camp if we have to but, We. Hold. The. Pass!”

Viv nodded. She knew the cost of failing to do so. There had to be limits to how much fate magic could accomplish. She didn’t know those limits and was uninclined to visit them. They would hold the line and that was it.

“As for formation, I believe the foe will focus their attacks on the Harrakans just like today.”

“That was impressive,” Falstag blurted out with a lot of enthusiasm. “both blade and spells!”

“You have quite the formidable infantry,” Eikart agreed.

“Therefore,” Jaratalassi continued with the edge of a smile, ”I believe you should take the center. Falstag’s foresters will take the right —”

“You can count on us!”

“While Eikart’s men take your left and Edretti’s pikemen, the far left.”

“We have kept the barbarians at bay for generations. We will not fail Baran now,” the Marshal said with a glare towards Cloud Skull, who was technically an invited barbarian.

“As for Cloud Skull and his men, I have a plan to use you in a more… offensive manner. I believe your style of fighting is better suited to counter attacks, which we will do a lot of tomorrow.”

Viv followed the briefing attentively. Jeratalassi explained how to react in certain situations though he gave everyone a lot of leeway. This battle would be approached in a conservative manner. Even if the Nemeti didn’t receive a ton of reinforcements, they would still outnumber the Paramese by a large factor.

A part of her was glad she’d befriended Jaratalassi instead of feeding their rivalry, although he’d provoked her quite a few times back when she was his student. He was definitely a competent commander and having those in your camp never hurt.

“If that is all, I propose that we retire for tonight. I’m sure we all have preparations to make.”

The meeting ended on a quietly resolute note. Viv left the tent, only to be accosted by Duke Falstag who gushed with praise. She returned some of the compliments since his irregulars had given a good accounting of themselves. He seemed quite pleased and his second, a little embarrassed. Viv remembered he was even younger than her which was usually a bad sign as far as successions went. Nevertheless, that was a good experience. After that she returned to her camp and busied herself doing what spellcasters always did on the eve of battle: recharge foci, repair enchantments, regenerate mana, and wonder which spells would help them the next day. The three others were already brainstorming how they could combine their abilities for maximum devastation, something Viv couldn’t exactly do as her brand of magic was too specific. Instead, she considered her tools.

The aegis shield pretty much worked at maximum efficiency but perhaps it could be further improved by directing power to the plates that would suffer the most. She gave it a try and found it exhausting, so that was a bust. Her ‘nuée’ spell was an improved, long range blight she could cast from the back and it had worked wonderfully. She had a new spell to kill something large with certainty so long as they underestimated her for a split second but those were not her problem. The problem was artillery, the kind of overwhelming firepower she had no recourse against because she simply couldn’t attack and defend at the same time.

There was only one option: strike first with such overwhelming strength that they would never recover.

She had a tool for that, she just wasn’t sure it was ready for use. Perhaps there was no choice. It had to be tried. They could not afford to lose.

Around her, the Harrakan camp went into lockdown. Barracks were shut and the sentries gathered in tight groups to avoid being picked off. Solfis and Zero Five prepared their defenses. Viv ended up bunking with the other casters just in case, except for Sidjin who claimed he had something to do. Sleep was long to come while outside, a silent war went on for control over fate.

The night was always the same, far above, and far below where the Dreamer dwelled. It was in the middle that chaos reigned.

Lak-Tak loved chaos.

The others eyed him warily while he pulled on a long ear, enjoying the comfort of this old habit. He was not normal, not anymore. He represented something the others feared.

His people had been through a crucible. They’d lost so much, the trees, the forge of the ancestors, many of the families. It had been… a terrible time.

Lak-Tak pulled harder. Memories boiled, unbidden. Mostly of powerlessness. The humans had come and that was it. The Yries had to yield. The world was such. Yries yielded to humans because the alternative would have been worse. They fled. Even that had been difficult.

But no more. The day Lak-Tak drove his digger drill into the wall of the Kazar, as the stones fell around and on him, as the dust choked him, and as the tip pierced through that enchanted defense of the human race, he had felt an ecstasy like no others.

He needed more. He wanted more. Chaos, orchestrated. Yries craftsmanship used as it was never intended. That made his tactile hair quiver. And he would have it tonight again.

“Ready?” Sidjin asked.

“Yes.”

Lak-Tak clicked instructions to his minions. The powerful Archmage opened one of his holes through the world and the Yries war machine powered through. The scent of human sweat was replaced by the stench of carrion. Nemeti flesh was strange and pungent, and cold. The scathing chill of the night desert would make them lethargic, which was why Lak-Tak would strike now because he was clever like that. Oh, he may not be like Sidjin who saved the Merl or Viviane who saved him, but he had walked in enough caves to remember an important matter. Mounts were beasts. Flesh-eating mounts were predator beasts. And predator beasts were… rather aggressive.

The war machine crunched its way through the cracked earth and the occasional body part. A part of Lak-Tak was thrilled that they may be found, yet it appeared that their strange angle of approach left the enemy unprepared. They arced through the morning’s forest, then out towards where the Nemeti had made their lair.

What awaited them was a tapestry of lights dotting the plains like a mirror of the heavens. It was both beautiful and daunting. There was order there too, one he didn’t quite understand. That was fine. The only thing that mattered was finding the ‘stables’. The human prince helped by twisting the air to his designs and suddenly, things appeared much closer than they were. As expected, the tall ‘raptor’ things were gathered in a loose area, in pens two or three apiece. Lak-Tak made a few measurements, then it was time to strike.

With great care, he opened a coffer and removed a wrapped ball that let out a powerful stench. He loaded the catapult and made a few, last checks. The camp was silent, its denizens asleep. It would not last.

Lak-Tak gripped the lever.

He sighed with contentment.

CLANK.

Lak-tak could not see the projectile hurl towards the camp as Yries vision was quite bad but he imagined it would be beautiful. His minions rushed to reset the siege weapon. Down below, the scent of magically distilled raptor scent gland spread among the pens. The first roars cried through the night, answering the unknown challenge. The perfume was so potent that it stirred them to insanity.

By the time the catapult fired again, half of the camp was awake and rushing towards the rampaging mounts as they slaughtered each other and the unfortunate souls in their way. Lak-Tak clicked at the satisfaction of a task well done. By the time the catapult fired a third time, the camp was a pandemonium of screams, roars, and bloodshed. Fire raged through tents and supplies in a wonderful, ever-flowing tapestry, like light reflected on the surface of smooth wet stone. The cries of the scaled ones sung an hymn to him, Lak-Tak. He may not be the strongest or the fastest or the stealthiest among the witch’s servants, and he may not be able to cast curses but if there was one thing Lak-Tak could do well and that was inventive destruction. Another dollop of honey perfected this moment.

“Should we head back?” the fallen prince politely proposed.

Lak-Tak loved it now that the humans of Harrak respected him and his people. All was as it should be. With one last look on his work to sear the memory in his mind, he signaled the retreat. A portal opened and they went through back to the quiet, cold camp of the sleepy human.

Lak-Tak looked up to the barricade to see a dead Hadal leaning against the wood. His heart froze in his chest.

Two black-scaled Nemeti appeared from nowhere with their blades up, then there was a flash bone and the first was cleaved in half, then the golem stabbed the other from behind like a bird harpoons a fish. The body was flung aside and the golem was gone, leaving the Yries and the prince sprayed with fresh blood.

Beautiful.

The abyssal throne room now felt almost familiar to Viv. The sitting god waiting for her rested his chin on a gauntleted fist, his eyes unreadable.

Viv approached the throne and resisted the urge to bow. It felt like the natural thing to do. That meant it was a trap.

“So we meet again, Efestar? So soon?”

“Many of your people will die tomorrow. Surely, you can feel it?”

“It’s nice of you to care.”

Pressure. The mental equivalent of a slap. Viv recoiled but she kept her composure. That meant she also had to draw some boundaries.

“Your insolence tires me,” the god said.

“If we are negotiating, at least be cordial. That’s the least you can do.”

“OR. WHAT?”

“I’ll call you Fefe again.”

Suddenly, the god’s presence towered over her like a mountain.

“Pretty please?”

“THOU ASK A BOON OF ME?”

“I ask for basic manners. If you can’t provide at least that then I’m out. And you can return to your dark broodings.”

“Your victories have made you quite arrogant.”

“Again, I’m not looking down on you, I am merely asking for basic standards of courtesy in conversation. Surely, that’s not too much?”

A hiss, and they were again a man, a woman, and a throne.

“Thanks. Now, is this the moment when you offer me a deal?”

“Not a deal. A gift. I can grant you my powers. Your attacks will pierce through the shields of their war machines as my blade did through the defenses of our foes, a long time ago, when we walked the world.”

“And in return, you ask for nothing?” Viv replied with clear disbelief.

“Nothing at all.”

The dark god smiled and it was not a pleasant sight.

“They destroyed my cults throughout Halluria. Our temples were defiled and our priesthood murdered. The Nemeti god does not suffer competition.”

“So this is for revenge. Better, I suppose.”

“I knew we would agree.”

“Alas, I must refuse.”

Pressure increased on Viv’s soul, though it was nowhere close enough to throw her back into her body.

“You are still a dark god, Efestar. You are doing this out of spite and to get one over your brother in arms, under the guise of concern.”

“So what? You told me yourself. What matters is the result, no? If I can make the world better then I should. You have an opportunity to save your soldiers by letting go of your prejudice, so why won’t you do it?”

He smirked.

“You know I can tell you about short term benefits that prove far too costly in the long run? It’s kind of a recurring theme for dark gods. A good offer that many regret long after the ecstasy of power fades away. That’s what you’re offering.”

“I ask nothing in return. Do you know how many mortals have had the privilege of this kind of offers over the eons?”

“It’s not because you ask nothing that there is no cost. Please. There is no need to play coy.”

“So you refuse my help, freely given.”

“You can freely give it but I cannot freely receive it.”

Efestar leaned forward.

“If you refuse my help, perhaps some of your men won’t.”

Viv shrugged.

“I cannot control everyone all the time but I believe this is not the point here.”

She sat on the inscrutable darkness Efestar used as a floor.

“I feel like you wanted to catch me being a hypocrite.”

“Your words ought to match your actions.”

“I agree. Your offer is generous but you know as well as I do that your power now is one that taints and destroys. I will not sacrifice the future of my people for immediate benefits.”

“Especially when the benefits do not affect you directly…” Efestar added with some vitriol.

Viv considered this to be progress. They were talking.

“I can’t say I’m the most honest person and I can’t say I’ve never been a hypocrite. Or will never be a hypocrite, I guess. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. You shouldn’t consider turning back because I said so. If you dig enough, you’ll find that I have plenty of flaws. I’m not some enlightened being that has all the answers. Instead, you should consider turning back on the proposal’s own merit, for your own sake. It’s not a good idea because I voiced it. it’s a good idea because… it’s just a good idea. It’s not an easy idea, I know that, but it could really change, well, everything.”

Efestar stared in silence, Viv feeling the pressure of his attention on her. A part of Viv wondered what rules the gods lived by. She was pretty sure any of them had the power to shred her soul to strands, making her insane, and yet even those who would have an interest in doing so had so far declined to go that far. The worst thing she’d been submitted to was nausea upon returning to her body. She wondered if the rules were part of who they were, or if it was an agreement between old gods. She was familiar with agreements. Sometimes, those were broken.

Apparently, not today though. Efestar remained still as a statue and so Viv waited. After an indeterminate amount of time that was definitely longer than an instant, the dark one entwined his fingers above the dark plates of his armor.

“You are certainly one of the outlanders with the most… interesting approach to divine beings. I think your struggle is pointless but I shall entertain myself by inviting you back to see how reality progressively hammers you into the shape you were meant to fill. A part of scorn is seeing your enemies lose themselves, after all.”

Viv had a strong opinion on that and it was that, as her online friend Gevaudan would put it, Efestar was a massive tsundere. She declined to share her opinion that Efestar really enjoyed having someone to talk to who wasn’t a raving power hungry lunatic, and instead decided to agree on principle.

“Sure, although I would bet that you would find it more interesting if I shaped the world instead.”

“Many believe they can do that, yet few ever succeed.”

“I mean, I already resurrected Harrak so…”

“You are a frustrating person to talk to, Viviane the Oulander.”

“Thanks.”

“I did not mean that as a — Nevermind, outlander. You have the sharp tongue of a woman!”

“Well in case you haven’t noticed, I am, in fact, a—”

Viv’s soul slung back into her body.

“Aw come on!” She screamed into the ether.

Dawn had returned to Param.

Viv unsealed her door to the stench of blood and smoke. In front of her bunker, in a small opening within the camp, stood a small pyramid of severed heads. The battered, blood-splattered form of Solfis stood on his charging station next to it. Dark scales, gaping maws revealing rows of teeth caught in the middle of a snarl provided a contrast of light and darkness. There had to be at least thirty dead dark-scaled Nemeti piled there but apparently, they’d taken their pound of flesh. The damage on Solfis would repair over the day but the fact he’d been damaged at all spoke of a deadly craft.

“Neriad’s bollocks.”

//I have good news, bad news, worse news, and worst news Your Majesty.

“Can we not wait until breakfast?” Viv asked as the sleepy rest of the mages joined her.

Superhuman physique could only carry you so far when advanced casting was so exhausting.

//I’m afraid not.

“Then I’ll take them in that order.”

//Very well.

//The good news is that Lak-Tak’s raid succeeded.

//The enemy should have limited cavalry support today, at the very least.

“That’s indeed good news. And the bad?”

Solfis pointed to the side where five figures rested, clad in dark cloaks. They were Hadal warriors, and they were very dead.

“Ah shit, this is bad.”

//We were severely outnumbered and the enemy didn’t care about losses, Your Grace.

//Zero Five argued he could not hold and I agreed.

//He has left the camp via gate to ask for reinforcement.

//Using the opportunity provided by incoming Baranese militias.

“I see.”

//The worse news is that the Paramese armies are just on their way.

//We cannot count on reinforcements until very late today, at the earliest, according to a runner I… consulted on the question.

“Ah this is really bad, especially if—”

//Lak-Tak’s report indicates the Nemeti have consolidated their forces.

//They will attack in powerful waves today.

“Shit.”

//Are you ready for the worst news?

“No?”

//Duke Eikart was assassinated.

Viv slapped her face in desperation.

//As the senior nobleman, Duke Falstag is now in command of the Baranese contingent.

“Are his troops staying?”

//We would not be having this conversation if they were not.

//However, Duke Eikart’s authority made his cavalry charges that much more devastating.

//With a junior commander in charge, their efficacy will diminish.

“Could —”

//No, Rollo may not lead them.

//The Baranese would never accept it.

“I see.”

Dawn was barely turning the edge of the sky pink. Heavy squads went from barracks to barracks, giving everyone the all clear and telling them to prepare for the day. Viv found the kitchen already working full time to prepare meals for the day. The men and women didn’t speak of it but she could see the sore muscles, the barely closed wounds hampering them. Some were still working on fixing their armor. The mood was not grim yet but it was serious.

At least Jaratalassi wasn’t dead.

“What about the prisoners?” she asked Solfis when he returned from a round.

//They were not attacked during the night.

//It seems the assassins focused their effort on you.

//Even Eikart was only a target of opportunity.

//The group that killed him joined the others in assaulting our positions.

//As for the infection, it seems under control for now.

//Only thirty people died so far.

//None of them ours.

//Prisoners who were too far gone to survive.

//Then rest are stabilizing.

“Ok that’s… at least not so bad.”

“Oi! I mean, hail, Your Majesty,” Poacher said as she rushed to the square, barely pausing at the sight of the skulls. She’d been hanging around Solfis, after all.

“Yes?”

“Can we have a talk concerning the quarrels situation?”

Viv spotted Ban striding in at the head of a squad of One Hundred and decided that it was going to be a long march out of the pass.

The Harrakans had enough quarrels to fight for half a day. It wasn’t by lack of preparations. They had barrels upon barrels of the stuff brought in with their supply train. It was simply that they’d been fighting violently for an entire day and, even with recovering everything they could, there were still some irrecoverable loss. This wasn’t even getting into the loss of one-time-use quarrels, a staple of the witch pact path which allowed them to infuse projectiles with devastating effects. Viv had to change the doctrine from ‘kill everything you can’ to ‘focus exclusively on high value targets like bola throwers, officers, and raptors. Then came Ban with the issue of runic equipment. Despite Lana and Rakan’s effort, the runic sets were losing power fast because of overuse, and the individual soldiers could only do so much to recharge them. They, too, would run out of juice sometimes during the day and then casualties would rapidly turn into fatalities. The Harrakan army wasn’t exactly a persistent force. They were always meant to be used in decisive engagements and this simply wasn’t it.

Viv wasn’t despairing just yet though. That only started later that day, after the Paramese alliance troops left the pass and arrayed themselves on top of the hill overlooking the desert. As planned, Harrak took the center with a stern Edretti taking the more vulnerable position on the far left next to the forest, Eikart’s leaderless Baranese between the two. Falstag’s men occupied the right, a relatively safer position with the flank blocked by a mountain. Then, the wait began.

Today, the Nemeti took their sweet damn time and Viv suspected they were simply waiting for the desert’s heat to reach a comfortable level for them. When they finally showed up under the consternated gaze of the Paramese, a new explanation occurred to Viv.

There were simply too many of them to easily maneuver. The only comforting sight was the near absence of ‘cavalry’. Only debris of squadrons remained from yesterday’s terrifying force. Lak-Tak had not done a ‘good’ job. He’d been absolutely thorough. Small mercy. She also noticed regiments of red-skinned, large specimens. The ruling caste. Her inspection didn’t work at that range but their weapon and armor were a cut above the rest. Slowly, the enemy army approached with the slow ponderousness of one who believes the day already won. And perhaps they were right. The front line of the Nemeti was composed of all its weakest combatants and when they charged, it seemed as if a tide rose to lap at the rock that was the Paramese formation as the drums pressed them on.

It turned into a slog almost immediately.

Viv only cast weaker spells as she saved all her energy for an emergency. After casting a few devastating first strikes, the others did the same. It was pointless to void entire battalions when a fresh one would replace it in under twenty seconds. Waves after waves of Nemeti threw themselves at her heavies. There were no cycle charges, no clever tactics, only an unceasing assault that would grind them down piece by piece. Even the Shrill and the crossbows used their ammunition with great care. The result was exhaustion. Wounds and tiredness accumulated. Some of the youngest heavies faltered, their spear arms crying for relief.

Viv used every trick at her disposal. Ranks rotated to allow some warriors to rest. She stretched the line so an entire company could rest at once while she cast more heavily. It didn’t stop the problem, which was that the Nemeti were merely wearing them down for a knockout punch.

“Rakan, go support the Hightree company.”

“Yes!”

With varying success, the Paramese managed to hold the line until Viv realized they’d been pushed back at least twenty paces since the battle began. She looked right where Edretti’s pikemen were at risk of being cut off.

“Make way!” an order came from behind.

Duke Falstag led a charge to relieve the left and Viv felt jealousy when she realized she wouldn’t benefit from the breathing room. That was until she was given the same order. The heavies rotated as a roar approached.

Viv watched Cloud Skull lead his men into the fray. Fierce southerners crashed into the Nemeti ranks with fury, their most powerful warriors breaking entire formations by themselves. They were not Warborn but Viv was still impressed by their dedication.

“Right. Food! Drinks! Hurry!”

The lull in the battle let her soldiers catch her breath, eat, and drink what they could. Laborers dragged in more ammo while Rakan raised more towers for the crossbow wielders to fire from at the back, for when they retreated. Meanwhile, Viv felt a growing pressure pushing her forward. It felt as if her luck warned her of a coming ordeal.

She knew what she had to use, she just wasn’t sure if she was ready. Her attempts to trigger the ability failed repeatedly. It was a sign she was missing something, but what? Not her grasp of the Aspect of the Guardian. That skill worked perfectly well. Something else?

The cavalry returned at the same time as the southerners and before they could get swarmed. Viv noticed many wounds on the poorly equipped soldiers but most seemed to shrug them off as they made their way to the healers. Meanwhile, the Nemeti assault continued unabated. Viv was forced to cast more and more just to give her troops seconds of breathing room.

One by one, the runic equipment ran out of juice until they were normal slabs of metal, still effective, just not as deadly. More heavies were carried to the back with wounds or without breath. The pressure was simply relentless. At this point, Viv realized the Nemeti were methodically dragging their dead to the back just so the living could fight unimpeded. They were not new at this.

The early afternoon came and went in a ceaseless exchange of violence. Exhaustion now affected every group of the Paramese alliance.

Eikart’s troops were the first to break. They didn’t collapse completely but it was enough for ruling cast regiments to make their ways to them.

As before, Jaratalassi ordered a charge and the southerners came to Viv’s help with bandaged wounds and a renewed appetite for violence. It was at that moment Viv realized that the large, cowled figure was no longer overseeing the conflict.

“Shit. Solfis? Where’s the big one?”

The golem pointed at the distant shape of Cloud Skull cleaving through a squad with a massive two-hander. The barbarian was caught in the flow and he failed to notice the approach of the massive cowled Nemeti. The red-clad foe unsheathed a spear of massive proportions. Red light bled through the metal. Viv cursed the fact she had not brought a communicator for the allied troops. She would remember. It would be too late for the tall warrior.

The cowled one charged Cloud Skull who turned in time, or at least it felt that way, and yet somehow the spear found his heart with unerring precision. Even dodging, the barbarian somehow ended in the path of the weapon. The tip impacted his naked chest, forcing him back.

Viv honestly expected the spear to emerge on the other side and yet, the barbarian was still standing.

“You think your magic will work on me?” he roared.

Viv wanted to help but she wasn’t sure the barbarian would resist the spell she would need to send. The two of them were too close to each other as they engaged in a ferocious duel. She watched Cloud Skull fight with ferocious power, each attack a cleaving blow that would have torn through a knight and his mount. The cowled one deflected them all. Even the most unpredictable attacks were deflected at the last moment. At the same time, his strikes hit Cloud skull who grunted in pain but the attack failed to penetrate.

Until the light faded.

One moment, the cowled one was a crimson avatar, the next, just a large enemy ignored by fate. The transition surprised Cloud Skull enough that his swing cut too high. The cowled one dodged under it easily and struck with his whole body.

The spear went through his heart cleanly. It emerged on the other side in a streak of gore. The cowled one swiped and the lifeless body was sent tumbling into the ravenous ranks of the Nemeti. The southerners faltered. Viv expected the cowled one to rally his troops for a decisive charge, but he was already gone.

//He is heading towards Duke Faltstag, Your Majesty.

It clicked in Viv’s mind.

“He’s trying to create a pattern of killing enemy leaders. Solfis, you have to stop him or fate may declare I must die like the others.”

//I will go.

Perhaps warned by Jaratalassi, the cavalry charge stopped and turned before they finished their attack. The expected break didn’t happen for the alliance. Meanwhile, the southerners ran away in disorder with the Nemeti on their heels. Larger squads of elite Nemeti moved in across the front in groups too small to be efficiently stopped by artillery. The Paramese line buckled.

“Alright,” Viv said, “Move back. Nuée!”

Sidjin and Lana shared her idea. Spells and bolts rained down to keep the Nemeti at bay but it wouldn’t be enough. She looked towards Falstag and saw Solfis by his side but no signs of the cowled one. Perhaps he had reconsidered? Soon, there was not enough time to consider as the entire Paramese contingent retreated towards the pass in various degrees of cohesion.

“Form a circle. Move back slowly!” Ban ordered.

The lines curved, condemning the exposed Baranese infantry still trying to hold on as the heavies closed around the witch pact. Many of the more experienced marksmen unleashed all they had before drawing their weapons and joining the battle line. The Shrill unloaded their entire reserves, drowning the approaching enemy in clouds of wasps and other horrors. It looked like the Harrakans would successfully disengage for a moment, until something at the edge of the horizon attracted Viv’s attention like the cold edge of a blade resting against her throat.

There was a cold terror to seeing a disaster approach with more than enough time to react yet lack any tool to actually achieve anything. All of the siege equipment Viv had failed to eliminate the day before crested the incline, then more followed. They carefully formed a line at their maximum range then groups of the leader caste gathered around the implements to pray. Viv felt the weight of destiny settle on their shoulder, constricting her soul under a snare of inevitability. This much artillery would flatten her shield in a single volley and then her people would die. The One Hundred and the Sisters would go first in a fiery conflagration. The other shields would follow after that. It would take just one shot, and the retreating Paramese army was in no shape to maneuver out of the way. All the spellcasters were occupied.

Viv was caught between several hard places.

The distant cowled figure turned its attention to Viv. A concept floated to her mind, carried over the winds of the embattled souls around her.

Checkmate.

That wasn’t true, though. Viv had exactly one ace left to play. It was now or never, and the pressure actually helped Viv. That, and the terror she felt for the first time since she’d been reborn as part elemental, a creature of Nyil, this world. Fear was such an unfamiliar feeling now that it shocked her into remembering she was not some champion talking in her sleep with the gods of this world. She was merely a woman trying her best, another piece on a crowded chessboard, and her people would die here and now, and she might die here and now, unless she moved her fucking ass. Unbidden, words escaped her.

“I… I didn’t mean to be a leader.”

Her voice carried strangely over the battlefield. Speaking settled her. Many of her soldiers looked back in surprise or confusion, yet they soon returned to the fight because they simply trusted her to get them out of this as she’d done before. Their renewed vigor let them fight on for just a little longer. For the length of a drawn breath, the Harrakans held.

“I didn’t mean to be a leader because I could not trust myself to lead. I lacked experience. Finesse. I knew what it entailed and I knew the costs. I feared I might lose myself. I took the mantle of power because I firmly believed I was the best to carry it, because I was the only hope of the city, back when we were just refugees hiding in a cave. I brought you here and I fought alongside you because I believed, and I still believe, that we could make the world better. But I didn’t mean to be a leader.

“I did mean to be a caster though.”

Viv gathered every drop of power she could without undoing her body. The air warped around her. She focused on her own abject fear and nervousness, the same she’d felt when facing the Gutspiller whose skull now adorned Solfis’ frame, the same she’d faced an eternity ago, in the shower of her gym, while her wet hand grasped for the weapon she’d prepared to punish her friend’s bully. She seized that do-or-die oppressive emotion and forged it into a vector for all that mind-crushing stress.

The ground grew distant under her dangling feet. It wasn’t a conscious decision. She wasn’t casting. Not yet.

“I meant to wield the powers of magic. I meant to be the best at what I did. And I meant it because here, on Nyil, reality can be rewritten if one fights hard enough.

“I will remind you what an elemental can do. I will model this world according to my vision, and if it doesn’t let me, then let the world TURN TO ASH.”

You may activate your second aspect: Aspect of the Destroyer.

Aspect of the Destroyer:

Your second of four aspects. They will bend or be undone. Upon anchoring yourself, you rise above the battlefield. You are geostationary and may not move in any way. You may not use defensive skills beyond a basic personal shield. Once the aspect deactivates, you will be defenseless for a duration depending on your stats and the intensity of your use (maximum three hours now). The aspect deactivates when you run out of available mana.

While the aspect is active, your range is multiplied by four (scaling), you may sequence up to three spells simultaneously, and their power is increased by around half (scaling).

Viv returned her cowled Nemeti commander’s attention just to let him know he’d monumentally fucked up his estimation of Param’s spellcasters in general. Then, she went to town.

The battlefield was now a place of great clarity, with currents and trends and the strands of mana coursing through it. To the side, one of the Baranese was being hacked to death as he turned into an aberrant by some strangely panicked Nemeti. Far in the distance, the priests were still chanting now with the awareness that they were like nails and Viv was a giant hammer.

“Sequence: hyperbeam, hyperbeam, hyperbeam.”

For the next fifteen seconds, mana flowed in and through Viv as if she were a virtuoso playing her favorite piece. Rays of death, clouds, artillery spells, all of them flew across the battlefield in a torrent of power that ravaged everything in its path, giving even the numberless Nemeti pause. She searched for the cowled one, only to find him gone. Those priests who felt their end come scattered away from their weapons while others threw themselves into building mighty shields, in vain. The first black elemental Archmage used her full might and the battle paused to catch its breath.

When the storm abated, the witch was left hovering above a field of carnage scarred by patches of polished stone where mana had gnawed through the soil. She fell, light-headed.

//I got you.

Viv was barely able to articulate. Dark veins stood in stark contrast to her skin and she felt physically brittle. In the distance, a surviving siege weapon managed to throw one projectile.

The shield reactivated.

“I got you too,” Rakan said with pride. “Hey, the reserves are full! That means I can play a bit as well.”

Viv nodded, too weary to reply as the Harrakans ran to the relative safety of the walls.

Chapter 159: The Swing

There were times Jaratalassi felt like he was really making a difference. Not with his own two hands. With the results of events he’d set in motion months before. This was such a time. Now all he had to do was enjoy.

Fleeing Paramese troops had stopped at the feet of the first wall, some climbing the parapet to man it and make up for their cowardice. The rest had slowed down, as many crossing the primitive gates as were gawping at the spectacle behind them. They all knew this was a special moment. He could feel every grain of risen stone under his fingers, smell the dry scent of the deadlands carried by the eastern wind. The light of the desert warmed his skin and the familiar song of battle had quieted down as if the world was holding its breath.

In its strange wisdom, Nyil had granted the frail humans a great equalizer in the person of mana users. Hybrid casters rose mighty walls like the one he was standing on while mage blades led warriors into battle. Then came the war mages with their mighty arrays, their gate-smashing spells and horde-ending storms. At their top ruled the Archmages who could undo beasts and men with a contemptuous wave of their hands like one wipes a slate clean for a new picture. Give me ten Archmages, he thought, and I will conquer Param.

Or, perhaps, one elemental Archmage.

In the valley below, the vivid painting of the battle extended to the nearest crest. Ochre and browns formed the background, then great swathes of steel gray and scale green where humanity and the Empire of Dawn massed their troops. Right now, the dull green of the enemy dominated the vista. Then came the red of Nemeti elites, the black of the Harrakan circle and the multicolored hues of the heavy cavalry. It had formed a pictural ensemble both familiar and awe-inspiring.

And then there was the witch.

A strange figure rose over the steel-clad Harrakans and their painted women. She had hooked her false wings into the fabric of the world like wolf teeth clamping on a heel. The gates of the nothingness above opened.

A cruel cat took its claws to the tapestry. Black beams pierced shields like arrows through straws and left behind ditches where Nemeti used to be. Clouds of hungering darkness hissed their ways through formations leaving behind only raw earth pitted and scarred. Exploding balls, flailing masses of tendrils burst from nothingness everywhere with the same results. The Nemeti stopped and ran out of the way. Those that did not, died, and when the spells faded, there was nothing left behind but blackened earth defaced and blighted, with crystalline limbs reaching up like tortured souls frozen in agony. The Empire of Dawn paused in its dogged pursuit to avoid the onslaught and the human forces, dazed yet still aware of their circumstances, retreated deeper into the pass. In a single minute, what could have been a rout turned into an orderly retreat thanks to the mightiest display of arcane destruction he’d witnessed from a single caster.

Truly, the continent was on the verge of a new age.

Baranese archers formed lines around him, some casting concerned glances towards him but he was too busy to talk to them. Too busy taking in the sights.

Like the tide, the onslaught receded and the witch fell, caught by the bone golem. An artillery projectile went for her with the same unerring accuracy all Nemeti projectiles seemed to have. It broke on the reactivated shield, courtesy of the outlander’s exiled Hallurian. The Harrakans were now at the back of the formation and the Nemeti regrouped but the Four Colors Halurian Archmage and the Tide Weaver kept them at bay with their own artifices. The Paramese alliance glutted at the entrance of the pass until the fallen prince opened a short range portal. The increased flow allowed more soldiers to evacuate while a rain of arrows came to keep the Nemeti at bay. Within twenty minutes, all of the humans had either retreated to camp or put themselves on the walls, ready to fight for them with renewed resolve. Jaratalassi walked down the narrow stairs to where the witch sat on her shield array, its presence required to protect the wall from bombardment. The strange owl creature who led her machines stood at a distance as he drew a diagram, possibly for another spiked horror. He had to admit that she didn’t look at her best. She was pale with eyes sunk and visible black veins under the visible skin. Her breath was short and painful, with a low gurgle he didn’t like.

“Capital work. And how are you feeling?”

“I’m crawling on my fucking eyebrows here,” she gasped.

He turned to Sidjin who was patting her back.

“She is saying, and I quote an earlier remark, that she couldn’t pull a greased toothpick out of a dead rat’s asshole.”

“Colourful.”

“Not… not critical. Just used too much mana. Need to rest and regenerate. I’ll be fine soon. Just… can’t cast.”

//And you better not try.

The golem detached itself from behind the machine to glare at an idling swordsman. Although, to be fair, the golem hardly ever did anything but glared anyway.

“We need an emergency meeting,” Jaratalassi said. “I would have your presence, please.”

Viviane was immediately suspicious which proved she also had a brain which was rather convenient. Nevertheless, the meeting was necessary but they had it in public to make sure the troops didn’t see their leaders leg it back to camp at what was arguably a low point. Even now, the fortified barracks crawled with the wounded, the healers long since running on dregs of mana.

“We would know if you intend to keep your word,” Olz the Claw asked.

Cloud Skull’s stand in was older and more reserved than his predecessor. Jaratalassi felt a pang of regret at the loss of a great warrior but the southerner was just one more fallen hero in a long line of snuffed talents and the regrets didn’t last long. Jaratalassi had lost thousands of people under his command, and it would only stop if he failed. That was his life.

“Yes,” the count replacing Eikart replied.

Both groups had lost the one making the agreement. Jaratalassi knew Eikart was leaving behind young children and the Duchess would have to step in to assume his duties. Such occurrences were common on the frontier. Right now though, the continued presence of the southerners were on the line. Despite large casualties, they were still a powerful force, especially now that the cavalry would be useless.

“We will honor our promise as you have honored yours. Cloud Skull was a mighty warrior and his presence will be missed. Our agreement will be kept.”

“So witnessed,” Jaratalassi said.

“So witnessed,” Edretti added resentfully.

“So witnessed,” Viviane added after a delay, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

With that out of the way, Jaratalassi went over the strategy. They had four walls with the innermost still being constructed by exhausted siege specialists. They needed to delay the enemy until nightfall which was still a couple of hours away. At least, that’s what he told them. Once this was done, he returned to the front. Jaratalassi was not too worried yet but they were cutting it short.

The battle was already joined by the time he climbed the second wall. Immediately, his skill allowed him to make sense of the battlefield, feel the currents and get a glimpse of openings. Baranese archers rained down arrows on the approaching Nemeti as those who’d reached the walls climbed on top of each other with a speed that proved this was not their first siege. The Nemeti had learned to fear archers as well, with hardy specimens holding thin stone slabs to protect those that came under them. For an improvised strategy, it was rather effective. Already, red-skinned warriors flung themselves at the wall where they battled with determined Falstag axe men. Suddenly, a blue light covered the front of the wall and the assault sank in the mud. The Nemeti retreated like the tide, regrouping to try again later. Another artillery spell impacted the half shield maintained by the young Hallurian exile who winced a little. One of the panes flickered before being remade. Now that the witch was gone, the spells seemed to lack focus, somehow.

It was all quite fascinating. But he had a duty to fulfill.

“Get me a squad of southerners on the right side. Yes, this spot with only archers. GOAT FUCKER. Yes, you. Get your ass on the wall, at the yellow flag. On the double.”

The weakness patched up, Jaratalassi took a gulp of powerful liquor and enjoyed the fiery path it took to his gut. Had to be careful not to overindulge. Maybe… that Bitter Heart girl… but no, later. He had more problems here.

Namely, his skill didn’t work on the Nemeti.

They were not just outside of Nous’ blessing. They were part of another wide-scale manipulation of mana for the purpose of guiding people. They used a different interface. Or perhaps, they had something else. It didn’t matter. Nothing, not the cannibalism, or the cruelty, or even the strange magic, nothing could convince him they were a threat that could not be negotiated with more than this fact.

Meanwhile, the Nemeti renewed the assault while the larger part rested beyond, feasting on the fallen. It was a grisly sight.

Jaratalassi calculated his options. A quick look towards the Tide Weaver showed the young Archmage was nearing exhaustion. He calculated that the enemy would break through within two assaults unless he was ready to sacrifice many lives. He was not. This was a delaying action. With a tired grunt, Jaratalassi walked down to the space between the first and second walls where some of the wounded were being attended to. A cook was setting up as well, bless him.

“Second wall. Move back. Now.”

“But sir!”

“This place isn’t safe at all. Move back and free the access. You too, Archmage.”

“I can… I can still —”

“You can take a breather. Eikart’s men are done setting up artillery positions at the end of the pass.”

“To… to clear?”

“Yes. You need to take a moment to recover if you want to keep casting. You there, help her to the back. There’s a good lad.”

There was nothing left to prevent an orderly retreat. Jaratalassi returned to the second wall and determined he had done all he could for now. A look back let him find the Harrakans at the back, all clumped around one of their war machines. They didn’t seem to know what to do now. That was fine. For now, they’d accomplished enough.

Viv felt like shit. She’d tried to explain it colorfully because people didn’t get it and she really wanted them to. Every last part of her hurt in some ways and the only thing she wanted to do was crawl on her bed and collapse. Instead, she went over the notifications sent by Nous because it was better than thinking about throwing up.

Mana mastery: Intermediate 7

Shield Mastery: Intermediate 5

Leadership: intermediate 7

Probably the result of successfully leading people into battle. And out of battle. All good but currently not as important as the feeling of someone drilling a hole into her temples to install the bells of Notre-Dame.

The Aspect of the Destroyer had left her drained of most of her mana. Her core picked up immediately, of course, and the damage stopped spreading, but now she was dealing with the aftermath of being almost out and her body could not quite follow yet.

It was an unpleasant reminder that she was no longer viable without magic. The advantages were many but if she ever ran really low on mana, the price would be all her organs failing at the same time. And if she were to run out completely, even for an instant, that would be her brain turning off. A rather final prospect.

A Bitter Heart brought her something warm to drink which she accepted gracefully. It tasted light and refreshing with a herbal aftertaste. Slowly, the veil of pain hounding her lifted and a deep cool seeped into her bones. The general inflammation calmed down. Using this opportunity, Viv finally looked around.

She was currently sitting on an array that wasn’t her own somewhere west of the last wall, at the feet of the Baranese camp and slightly off the road. Her casters were not here, presumably staying near the front where the battle continued. It was, she judged, mid-afternoon and the Nemeti would soon have to consider retreating or fighting in the cold where they struggled to move quickly. The rest of her troops formed a loose circle around her in semi-organized groups currently busy eating, drinking, and cleaning their equipment. People from the main camp carried bushels of replacement quarrels to the crossbow folks as fast as they could though they were rationing it to a couple per person. Those were the last of their reserves, arrived today by portal. After that, they were done. Viv sighed. Today would be fine, but tomorrow…

Just as she was considering worst case scenarios, trumpets rang at the back, near the supply portal. The sound of approaching boots spoke of a great number of people. Without prompt, the Harrakans stood from where they’d collapsed. The heavies reformed ranks while the crossbow wielders leaned and gathered in the loose packs they favored to move around the battlefield. Suddenly, the circle around Viv coalesced in a defensive formation in the blink of an eye, just in time for a massive column to come into view.

Spearmen in white marched twelve abreast with a spring in their steps, helms closed and ready for battle. Viv could tell at a glance they wore high-quality armor and inspection returned third or fourth steps warrior paths. A group immediately detached itself from the column as it passed by showing no signs of being close to its end. At first, the man at their head showed enthusiasm, but it was immediately tempered by the closed, hostile ranks of the Harrakans. Viv waved because she’d recognized the blue horse on a white field displayed on the soldier’s tabard and that of the heavily armed men by his side. Those were Baranese palace guards, and that could only mean one thing.

The Baranese royal army had arrived. Finally.

“Let him through,” she ordered.

The soldier approached her with a confident, if slightly slower step. The Harrakans made it clear the others walked among them at their sufferance and, through her discomfort, Viv felt kind of all warm and fuzzy because they were protecting her.

“Greetings, Empress Viviane of Harrak! His Royal Majesty King Erezak the Third sends his warmest regards,” the soldier announced in a booming voice that reached through the entire hill.

Viv didn’t need to inspect him to know this was a herald, a path designed to be heard. And heard he’d been. The soldiers straightened up and some of the witchpact cheered. They all understood what it meant. Baran was committed to recognizing Harrak as a nation. Or at least, it seemed that way. A herald declaration was only a first step. Still, they had a foot in the doorstep.

“My King wishes to extend his most heartfelt thanks that you would take up arms to defend the lands of Param and civilization itself. Words of your deeds have reached every court. We salute you, and invite you to witness the fruits of your labor on the wall as we, in turn, rise against savagery!”

Whoops and cheers answered the declaration. The Children of the Scale were especially loud as they tended to get easily excited. Viv smiled and nodded because it sounded like someone wanted her to rest while they showed off and that was most definitely a plan she could get behind.

“The House of Falstag and the House of Eikart will be rewarded for their loyal services as well, and so will his gratitude extend to the southerners of the regretted Cloud Skull. In the meanwhile, may you rest while we carry the torch. I have spoken!”

The herald bowed with a smile now that he had single-handedly managed to switch the mood around. Maybe he even improved his skills from that little stunt. Viv forced back a yawn. Her bed was looking more inviting than the wall if she had to be honest with herself.

Her attention returned to one of the house guards who had lingered behind, casting curious glance at her. She inspected him.

[Warrior priest of Neriad.]

Ah, a bit like Lorn then?

“Yes?” she asked.

“I was just wondering why you are being worshiped.”

He shook his head then left.

Viv yawned, couldn’t resist.

Then she stopped.

“I’m what?”

It was the damn fault of those quarantined idiots. Viv got the confirmation as soon as she could get two coherent words out of one of Enttiku’s healers.

“You go and tell them to stop this nonsense immediately or I’m liable to carpet bomb the entire refugee camp.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” the priestess replied, “but I can certainly tell them to stop worshiping a mortal. Please bear in mind it will slow your healing speed and you need to be careful.”

“It will what? How does this even work?”

“Well, worshipers sacrifice mana to those they worship. If some people intercede with a god to help you, their mighty presence might assist you in your hour of need. If people worship you directly then their power is unguided but no less powerful for it. I find it a fascinating subject of study. But I digress. I shall tell my acolytes to stop them before they… set a bad precedent.”

“Yes, that would be best!”

Viv strode back out and towards the wall with a heavy escort around her. She glared at Solfis who’d remained woefully quiet during the entire fiasco.

“It’s a bad thing,” she insisted.

//I agree.

//Far too premature.

“Then why are you looking so smug?

//There are now more worshipers of Her Majesty in this valley than there are worshipers of Efestar.

//Be sure to rub it in during your next meeting.

“Ugh. Ok I was laughing with the whole evil empire thing but I’m putting my foot down now. No worshiping. Just no! You start with a little flattery and then hubris rears its ugly head and then maybe you consider you’re doing so much good for the world, as much as the gods. Perhaps even more than the gods. And that’s how they get you. Before you know it, the waters turn to blood and the fields swarm with plagues of crickets and whatnot. Or they replace my hair with snakes. No. No no no no no. No worshipers!”

//Oh, very well.

//I will make sure they stop.

“Very good.”

//Still…

“I said, no.”

//Fine.

Viv returned towards the front where most of the Royal army column had stopped simply because there wasn’t enough room to accommodate more of them. The tired Baranese and Southerners were retreating in bloodied yet proud squads, soon replaced by fresh squads rushing in with enthusiasm and a clear desire to prove themselves against ‘savages’ and ‘beasts’. Weaponized racism was alive and well.

Viv left her escort at the wall and went so far as to order everyone back to the barracks where they could rest and recover. For now, the Baranese had taken over the defense but tomorrow would be a long day. An aide guided her to Jaratalassi still standing on the third wall. Squads of eager swordsmen had engaged the Nemeti on the fallen first one with commendable enthusiasm. It was a melee the humans were winning because the Nemeti were retreating.

Beyond the walls, their vast army was gathering in thick formations and the reason for that became clear a few moments later. A series of horns rang from the left where the forest was. From her position on the wall, Viv could only see the easternmost end of the forest. More horns rang. Since the forest was about a kilometer away, it took her a moment to realize the change. At the limit between the mass of land and the rows of trees, now a colorful edge coalesced slowly as knights emerged from the forest with a level of coordination that an earth army would envy.

Of course, Baran was known for the best cavalry on the continent and they were going to use it, and now they’d used Viv’s witch gate to flank the Nemeti for what was the second time in two days.

The Nemeti could not have possibly detected the assault since they barely used scouts, and yet the lessons of yesterday’s conflicts were obvious in the way they quickly reacted to the new danger. Formations tightened in redundant layers with lighter troops at the edge, ready to take the brunt in the name of the Empire of Dawn while heavier formations with nasty polearms and heavy shields waited deeper behind their lesser brethren. The Baranese didn’t wait for the Nemeti to finish their preparations. A horn rang, incredibly loudly. The call blanketed the whole valley and set Viv’s teeth on edge. Looking down, she saw dust rising from the rock under her fingers. As the horn quieted, an old voice roared with the same intensity.

“For Baran!”

“For the King!” the knights replied.

Like a curtain descending on the plan, thousands of knights launched themselves at the Nemeti. Viv watched the charge progress with some anxiety because no matter how many they were, the Empire of Dawn still outnumbered them vastly. Not just that but the distance was too short to reach full speed, especially on the farther flank. And the Nemeti were mostly ready and they didn’t know fear so they would stand and fight.

Then the charge came fully into view and Viv forgot it all to take in the sights. She couldn’t grow tired of it.

Shimmering armor, gleaming pennants and multicolored tabards formed a tide of radiance as they rolled the first lines of defense. The tide was not a single wedge either, but islands of power centered around standard-bearing knights in elaborate garbs. Viv smiled when she recognized the Order of the White Orchard, the one she’d ridden with during the latest Hallurian incursion. All of them gravitated around an ancient man in a silvery garb so bright it was almost divine, carrying a spear adorned with an artifact drenched in mana.

Artillery fate spells ran down on the attack and, here and there, knights died in fiery blasts but the most important ones lifted artifacts of power that even the Nemeti magic failed to counter completely. Still, there were losses.

Despite the unfavorable circumstances, the charge plowed through the Nemeti with great vigor and the men atop the battlements whooped and cheered. After the initial assault, the different orders split and attacked targets. It didn’t take long for the first wave to get bogged down and the others to have to stop and extricate the cut off knights before they could be slaughtered. With that done, the cavalry retreated back to the walls.

Baranese mages led by an old woman wearing a circlet did the expedient thing by basically peeling off the walls like an orange skin, letting everyone through with the dignity the knights wanted. Viv followed Jaratalassi to the side of the road, then the canny general had them step up on a boulder to even things out, height wise.

Viv stood with all the poise she could muster as rank after rank of nobles trotted back towards the gate, likely to a camp being built there while all she wanted to do was have a lie down and possibly a foot massage. The first to stop and talk was the Order Master of the White Orchard who smiled when he noticed her. He was still flanked by the same crimson armored killer and plated jester as last time.

“Lady Viviane, or is it Your Majesty, now?”

“Yes, though you may call me Viviane since we fought side-by-side,” she replied with a smirk.

“Hah! Speaking of that, would you care to join our cavalcade tomorrow?”

“I must regretfully decline as my place is with my people.”

“Well spoken. A good day to you then!”

The White Orchard was soon succeeded by another order, then ducal detachments. The sun seemed to rise from behind the wall when the King of Baran finally crossed the barrier.

The man was old, over a century and a half old, in fact. He looked like the grandfatherly wise king of an enchanting kingdom, the kind that got killed by the evil wizard in the first ten minutes of the movie. Viv knew he could no longer really fight, but that didn’t matter. Decked in artifacts of the kingdom and exuding an aura of leadership so strong Viv had to fight it or risk being overwhelmed, he possessed a presence that could move a nation. Once more, Viv regretted not being in bed with a foot massage because this guy’s vibes were giving her a headache.

“Greetings to you, Viviane of Harrak, the Oulander. We are pleased to finally meet you.”

The benevolent voice was just as mighty as Viv expected. It seemed to reach every corner of the camp. It was also warm and friendly to the extent Viv almost believed his apparent kindness. Almost.

“The pleasure is mine, King Erezak.”

“We have followed your progress with great interest. You have brought civilization and the rule of man back to lands we thought lost. In recognition for your many services, We shall recognize Harrak as the newest addition to the Paramese Alliance. May your reign be long and prosperous, Empress Viviane.”

The knights politely cheered while Viv was left stunned. She expected to be recognized but she also expected Erezak to extract a few concessions from her first, even with Jaratalassi and Eikart’s backing. It was just the way things worked in negotiations. Yeah sure we’ll recognize you! Just need a teeny tiny favor first, just a little thing to facilitate the move you understand. But Erezak had basically served her legitimacy on a silver platter.

The reason as to why became obvious almost exactly at the same time. Another sound of horns and the heavy steps of a coming army came from the witch gate. Damn thing must have been open non stop all day by then. Soon, a group of knights in blue came around a figure Viv recognized all too well: Sangor, King of Enoria.

The reason for the quick recognition was obvious now. Good old Erezak just wanted to one-up Sangor just as the victor of the civil war was trying to restore Enoria’s fame. Not only had Baran taken the day before they could arrive, but they’d unilaterally recognized a breakaway nation as part of the alliance and placed Enoria in front of the ‘fait accompli’. One couldn’t tell of the tension seeing the two sovereigns greet each other with smiles and congratulatory booming voice but that was a political sucker punch the likes of which Viv had never seen. Well, not in her person. Her dad was nasty sometimes.

With the official ass-sniffing done and the introduction made, Jaratalassi politely invited the kings for a meeting. Viv hoped to fuck they had a tent the size of the Hagia Sophia to accommodate all that ego and all those nobles or there was going to be problems. At least the good news was that with the bulk of the alliance finally here, they were finally going to go on the offensive.

Chapter 160: Might of a Continent

Viv followed officers to an exquisitely decorated tent sitting on a hill that hadn’t been here this morning, because nothing quite said majesty like casting tactical spells to make yourself taller. For this occasion, she could only take two people with her since space was limited and she went for Sidjin and Solfis. The explanation as to why became clear as they climbed up nicely carved stairs and saw the flow of soldiers rushing out through the witch gate. It was not just the Enorians and the Baranese coming. The flood gates were open. Right now, northerners in white robes over mail marched out with the twilight sun shining on their spears. Sidjin tensed as he watched the display by her side, prompting her to pay more attention to the flags.

Glastia was here.

That was… well, even if he were still an outlaw in his homeland, which he was not, they still couldn’t arrest him due to the rules of the Paramese Alliance. Nevertheless, the past was not something he could easily let go off. The way Nyil made minds more resilient only worked so far. It was already a miracle he could function after everything he’d been through.

A surge of anger rose in Viv’s chest, though she quelled it quickly. Glastia was a frontier city under constant siege. They were expected to send a token force every time the alliance gathered, and they would be held to higher standard for decades afterward. Of course, they couldn’t afford not to come. She should have expected it. She just hoped they’d sent someone who wouldn’t cause a scene.

Viv walked in, everyone stopping to spare a glance at Solfis. He was getting quite a reputation, and she wondered what would happen if she insisted he attended meetings after he’d regained his original frame. They’d need larger tents maybe? In any case, Jaratalassi was already present alongside helpers who were finishing adding little flags in front of comfortable chairs. A quick study revealed that the arrangement was made to prevent animosity. Notably, she was close to the entrance with Glastia a quarter of a circle away to her right, Helock a quarter of a circle to her left, and Enoria facing her. Out of immediate stabbing range. The more powerful nations filled the back of the tent around the commanding chair which belonged to Jaratalassi. Harried ladies in waiting rushed from spot to spot, placing sealed cups around which a nondescript man checked for poison. There were a few of them around the tent, actually.

//This place is secure.

//For now.

“I imagine attacking anyone here would be suicidal.”

Viv was one of the first to sit, mostly because she was still feeling sore. Solfis came to stand at her side which meant she was given a wide berth, a double-edged tool when other groups were talking in low whispers. She would get a much better chance at socializing during the conference anyway. Right now, she needed a breather. So did Sidjin because, as the two of them discovered at the same time, Glastia had sent Prince Medjin. The same person who’d turned Sidjin’s mentor and Sonagi against them in the arena. Also he was an absolute bastard that looked like an opera villain and the way he glared at Sidjin made it clear he had something in store. So help Neriad, if he tried anything…

Slowly, other groups sat down. The susurrus of conversations covered three different languages and their variations, giving the tent a cosmopolitan ambience reinforced by the vastly different styles of armor people wore. The last of the whispers died down a moment later which Jaratalassi used to open the meeting.

“Gentlemen, and ladies, it is my honor to welcome the alliance today. We stand at a decisive junction. You arrive— yes?”

Medjin had lifted a hand under the glaring disapproval of most, especially the two kings. Viv got the distinct impression the man wasn’t aware he wasn’t in the Glastian palace anymore.

For once, she wasn’t the one who would get a culture shock. Nice.

“Before we begin, I wish to make a request related to the presence of Prince Sidjin of Glastia here,” Medjin said, that snake.

Of fucking course.

Viv noticed the imperceptible tension on her lover’s shoulders. Sidjin was one of the most composed people she knew. He kept his calm with a level of control that bordered on mania, a quality in a mage but sometimes a trap as well. She felt the sleeping rage awakening again for the first time since the duels back in Helock when that wound on his soul was freshly reopened. It pained her to see him like this, taking upon himself to bite everything back once again for a city that he still loved, even after everything they had done to each other.

“Prince Sidjin of Glastia is a notorious traitor. The rules of the Paramese Alliance allow for the presence of, shall we say, disreputable elements. However, nothing warrants his presence on his council and I daresay he represents a security risk and should be excluded from every strategic meeting where important information might be shared.”

All eyes turned to Viv and Sidjin so she cast a quick sound-canceling enchantment. It was considered acceptable and faster than a recess.

“I will leave,” Sidjin said, “If you ask me, although this is nothing short of bullying and you should not accept it as a sovereign.”

It was obvious to Viv that Sidjin was exhausted after two days of very heavy fighting. All of her casters had fought until they were almost completely out of mana and then they’d focus on replenishing it, rinse and repeat. It made the usually unflappable Sidjin a bit more raw than usual. He bared his teeth as he glared which was a much better than deep depression.

“Sidjin, you’ve never actually spoken your mind about the whole treason thing. Not in public.”

“I shared it with my father, after he… after my Merl friend died.”

“After they murdered him.”

“He ignored me, said it was for the good of the city. There is no point now.”

“There is an obvious one and I think you should share it.”

Sidjin frowned, the whole concept foreign to him.

“We do not play this game in public. It is unsightly.”

“But he started.”

“Viviane, love, we must maintain a certain level of decorum.”

“Which means we can reciprocate when insulted, which he’s just done. You’re not just you anymore. You’re my advisor and my most powerful caster, remember?”

“Viv.”

“If you don’t stand up for yourself, I will.”

“Viv.”

“And I’ll be fucking rude about it.”

“Viv, I…”

“Sidjin. They’ve been slandering you and you’re just biting it all back. Just for once, let it out.”

“I…”

“Let it all out.”

She could see the moment the scales tilted and collapsed, the moment his jaw unclenched and she knew the dam had broken. She dropped the sound enchantment just as he started speaking.

“The moment seared in my mind, the one that changed everything, that wasn’t the treason accusation. It wasn’t being thrown in a cage or even what came after, the torture, the humiliation in front of the various families who’d lost a son fighting for a wall they should have stood on from the start. It wasn’t my father’s scorn or my mother’s tears. It was the moment I left the battlement and felt the heat singe the back of my head. The moment I turned and saw my Merl friend Siul’s charred corpse fall, and the moment after, when I turned in horror, and I saw your nephew step away from the upper wall with a sneer. He DARED sneer at me.”

Sidjin breathed in and it was harsh, like the wind howling through a half-closed window.

“For two years I fought on the wall every damn day until they called me the Red Mist. I sacrificed every minute of free time to the cause. I bled and I cried for it, but I didn’t mind, because I was fighting for Glastia. My Glastia. I would have faced the dark gods for her and for you. I would have charged head first into the tide if it meant victory. I would have given my life without hesitation. Glastia could have asked for all of it and I would have given it gladly if it meant it would all stop. Just stop. But you didn’t ask for this. You asked for my principles and my soul! You… you murdered Siul because he was asking help for his people, a people that was dying on the wall alongside ours! Alongside me! A people fighting for us! And you… you just had him murdered… and you had him murdered with a spell that would have slaughtered three dozen beastlings! The sheer, callous, honorless, audacity of it! And after all that, when I freed them and you actually had to fight for your own nation, after you killed your own allies, you dared call ME a traitor? You have tossed every last shred of dignity your entire bloodline could have possibly possessed and to this day, here on this council, you are still searching your pockets for more. The shamelessness of you. The utter absence of decency. There are whoring fisherwomen with more prestige than your entire clan and I am telling you now that I am done with you. I cannot control what you say in your viper dens but if you spit your venom in my presence again, I will demand satisfaction. I will go through your entire retinue and all your battle mages with relish and I want you to remember that I have killed for duty, for honor, for survival, but you… you? I would kill for pleasure.”

Viv cleared her throat then leaned forward, adding her comment in a calm voice.

“For the record, Archmage Sidjin is here as my Arcane Counselor, my paramour, and a vital part of the Harrakan military. His Glastian past should hold no relevance to this council. I will also add that it is the official position of Harrak that Prince Medjin of Glastia’s opinion has no value whatsoever and we will disregard it.”

Silence returned to the council though there were a few half-smiles. It was Jaratalassi who spoke next.

“Prince Medjin, this is a sovereign meeting held for the purpose of developing a strategy to defeat the Empire of Dawn. Our time is extremely precious. Please do not waste it by airing your petty grievances and I will refrain from comparing your contribution to that of Archmage Sidjin. Thank you. Now, I’d like to continue where I left off…”

What followed was mostly Jaratalassi bringing the commanders up to speed, something he did with alacrity and using numbers like range, proportion of elite to standard infantry, or casualty ratios. The description was succinct and really exhaustive. It was mostly the generals around the table who nodded as he spoke. Afterward, Jaratalassi recounted the events up to this day, shared his strategy, and finished with the existence of fate magic. The assassination of Eikart troubled everyone.

//The enemy assassins are capable.

//They are also immune to pain, continuing their initial attack no matter what.

//This piece of information cost us dearly.

//However, they can be stopped by our own specialists.

//I am willing to share what I have learned of their techniques.

//As a gesture of… goodwill.

Solfis’ way of saying the word felt terribly ominous, but there were signs of agreement around the table. Viv wondered if the canny golem was making himself seem like more than a killing machine. It even surprised Viv no one had objected, perhaps a sign her reputation was finally reaching far and wide.

“Concerning tomorrow, I have a suggestion,” Jaratalassi continued.

What followed was a masterclass in tactics that Viv appreciated although she had difficulties following. Her polymath skill let her infer the meaning of several expressions so she could at least get the gist of what was going on. Essentially, Jaratalassi didn’t have a plan. He had a complete roadmap. There were presets, conditions and contingencies with triggers left in the hand of career commanders with a deep understanding of their own forces. Sometimes, one of the generals suggested engaging at a different range, or swapping two units, and most of those suggestions were accepted but Viv was completely out of her depth. It was a great example of the level of thought that went into battles she’d only seen from outside so far. She also realized that Jaratalassi had been playing with only four ducal-sized forces so far which was like forcing a maestro to perform on a shitty flute. Now, Jaratalassi had the full orchestra under his command. He was going to wield the entire might of Param and he was going to make the Empire Dawn regret every second of it. Viv was a little wowed, and also a little jealous. She wanted her own dedicated commander so she could focus on her favorite thing: spellcasting.

Jaratalassi also came up with an idea she’d had as well.

“We should strike the enemy at the time when it is the most vulnerable: in the morning while the land is still cold. Their strange constitution will make them sluggish until the sun warms the earth, which should take at least an hour.”

“Why not attack at night?” somebody asked.

Jaratalassi allowed the interruption.

“We have no guarantee that the Nemeti perform worse at night than we do. Speed and energy are not the only factor. Lack of visibility and confusion matter as well and they could be exploited by our enemies. They have already demonstrated a great ability to adapt and to organize themselves. It is not a risk I am willing to take when we have a much safer option.”

“Not to mention the Hallurians certainly tried,” another added. “They favor night attacks.”

“Yes. I also love the irony of handing the Empire of Dawn’s collective asses to them at dawn. The scaley bastards deserve no less. However, in order to achieve a morning assault, we will need gates. Archmage Sidjin, Empress Viviane, may we count on you to set them up?”

“I’d need to be present at both ends…” Viv said.

//My mistress has been the repeated priority target of their assassins.

//She will remain in a secure location until they are confirmed eliminated.

Solfis’ voice brooked no objection.

“I will make sure we are ready,” Sidjin assured.

The plan was simple in principle: rush their forces through portals to the edge of the Nemeti stronghold, deploy as fast as possible, and engage as the sun rises. The attackers would have it in their face which was less than ideal but it would be compensated by the Nemeti being weakened. The main point of failure, for Viv, was the narrow nature of portals. It would take entire minutes for the tens of thousands of soldiers to sprint through the aperture, a fear she didn’t share considering the generals were aware of the issue. In any case, they agreed it was the best plan and that was it. Viv didn’t feel like contributing. She knew when things were above her paygrade. The most important aspect was that she would be placed in the middle while the right flank would carry the brunt of the offensive based on some subtle terrain thing she’d not quite caught. Once the plan was decided, the generals filed out and she had the displeasure of being addressed by a northern leader she’d never met. A smarmy guy in an annoyingly cool robe she wanted to steal.

“You should consider who you keep as allies, ‘Your Majesty’. There is a cost to defying the order.”

“Thanks for the ‘advice’ but I don’t go back on my loyalties for convenience or profit. I’d go to war over Sidjin and I’d win it too.”

“You are quite arrogant for a self-proclaimed Empress.”

“Yes, it’s in the title. I’ll add that unparalleled arcane might is doing wonders for my self-confidence. Test it at your own risk. Now, you will excuse me.”

Viv left to find Sidjin who’d gone first. He was standing near the edge of the artificial hill, inspecting the incoming troops and supply wagons with his hands behind his back.

“We have changed everything,” he said.

“You have. You’ve solved supply lines.”

“Perhaps. We shall see if this lasts, if others can be taught as well. Shall we go?”

The trio left for their camp which was on the other side of the column. Fortunately, a detachment simply paused to let them through, a perk of being dressed like some dark lady, Viv assumed.

Sidjin was being sad. Quick, a distraction!

“You know, I was thinking.”

“Oh Neriad protect us all.”

“Har har. No, seriously, back on earth, the entire perception of magic gave it such a mystique! Witches were supposed to brew potions from rare and exotic ingredients, then dance naked withershins around a bonfire on a full moon singing incantations at the top of their lungs. And I feel like it’s actually a bit lost here. Not that I’m really complaining since it would make things much more complicated, just… what?”

Rather than distracted, Sidjin was getting increasingly pissed off which was not the expected result.

“Witch traditions mostly work that way. Witches of the Thorns may only cast offensive spells if they have imbibed a brew made from theirs and monster blood. They cannot cast to attack otherwise.”

“What? Is it… acting as a focus? A battery, perhaps?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“The spells will not trigger unless the potion has been consumed.”

“But… that’s preposterous!”

Sidjin threw his hands up.

“Exactly! Exactly, this is how I feel about all of your entire spell library! Do you know I had to invent an array and a formula to calculate the distance between two portals so I don’t end up buried alive? And you? You? You slap three axis and a bunch of identifiers on your targeting hex and that’s enough for, and I quote, ‘letting Nyil know where to aim’. And that’s it. And it WORKS! Scandalous! And then you just shadow port away to avoid having to explain yourself which is, by the way, supposed to be an assassin path master ability. Arrrrggg!”

The two stared at each other, then chuckled.

“I need to express my frustration more often. It soothes the heart,” Sidjin observed. “Oh look, is that…”

A messenger was running towards them, one of the temple acolytes. She looked exhausted, with wisps of hair sticking out of her ponytail in sweaty strands.

“Your Majesty! Ah. Reinforcements have arrived.”

“Reinforcements? We didn’t expect anyone.”

“We know. This way!”

The girl led them by the side of the Harrakan fort which was now surrounded on all sides by other camps being raised. Viv took pride in the fact theirs looked the most professional. A column of warriors waited by the gate in good order. Their reddish skin was unmistakable. Viv rushed at the leader with enthusiasm.

“Marruuuuuuk! It’s so good to see you!”

“Hahahaha!”

The large Kark looked wider and more muscular than ever. Her armor was Yries-made and showed a few more scars than last time. Her shield showed considerably more marks and Viv almost laughed when she realized the Kark had someone engrave a stylized handle near the middle. Viv stopped before she could hug or pat the stout girl since she remembered Marruk wasn’t a fan. Instead, she opted for words.

“I see your crusade against doors is still ongoing.”

“It helps me be recognized. It is like a human flag but more convenient and less phallic.”

“Less visible too.”

“I can make it very visible. From up close.”

A few of her Kark shifted uncomfortably. Viv wondered if it was the un-Kark-like banter or just an intimate knowledge of Marruk’s bashing implement.

“And you brought back… more Kark than you said you’d lead home? I thought you wanted to rescue them?”

“I did! Too many idiots in the clan!” Marruk bellowed, forcing the first five ranks of the formation to huddle around their pikes.

“They say thank you and ask which chief I want to marry! They want me to raise many strong and smart children for their tribe while my husband leads the warband. Idiots! IDIOTS! It was I who brought people back, I who brought us more steel than three trade caravans filled with precious sweet meat! It was I who got our gold back from the Enorian liars! I should be chief! My husband should raise MY children to be strong and smart while I RULE. I have proven myself more than them! We need… Pah! You know this. My people, they are too… set in their ways. See change as a surrender. Losing oneself.”

It was obviously a sore spot.

“Then, uhhh!”

“I make a new tribe with steel and ruse and girl warriors. There are three. Do not mention it. They think I cannot tell. We conduct guerilla warfare and we speak softly.”

“That’s great!”

“I, uh, I was hoping you could help. With the guerilla part. We need new paths. I cannot do it myself. I need to stay as Pillar of the Kark.”

“But of course! And who knows, if we manage to liberate land to the far north, perhaps some of your people can move in. Solfis mentioned the climate was similar to what you guys have in the steppes, except, you know, the soil isn’t shit.”

“That would be perfect, yes. Later. For now, we fight together again. I will help my warriors settle down for the night with minimal screaming. Goodbye!”

Viv let the Kark busy herself with housing. Since their coming was unexpected, Rakan volunteered to expand the base to accommodate them. For some reason, all the other armies gave them a wide berth so there was enough room to raise new barracks next to the Order of the Blue Rose’s poetry tower. Viv finally, finally retreated back to her secured bunker, only to scream in fright when a figure pretty much unmerged from the wall.

//This is Irao, Your Majesty.

“Oh, ok, ok.”

The Hadal blinked slowly, then tensed a little.

“I will give you some space,” Sidjin allowed. “I need a bath and a glass of spiced wine.”

“See you. Irao, I… did Zero Five tell you?”

“He told me many things.”

Viv couldn’t be sure but the old assassin looked dejected.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Your friends came and… they protected me.”

“Yes. Death. There have been many deaths.”

He paused for a while.

“We will bury their ashes in our home. Death is… more a part of life than it used to be. There is life too. Hope. I was the first, you know? First successful one out of the vats. First to be trained. For a long time, I also feared I might be the last. But no longer. Now we have children. I have held those children in my arms. They are very squirmy.”

“Hmm. That’s a good thing?”

Irao nodded wisely.

“Very much so. I feel safer. I feel like death has meaning. But I don’t think I want more of it from my friends. Now, I want to see how the scaled ones wield fate like a dagger. It will be… a nice challenge. Something new.”

“You sound like Solfis.”

Irao stared right into her eyes, for once.

“Yes. We are both old. Sometimes bored too. I think… this will be interesting.”

The Hadal disappeared and Viv knew the Nemeti would regret making themselves interesting.

Solfis sat across the path to the Empress’ bunker entrance, not far from its charging station. Data influx was processed by part of its processors while the rest of its mind remained idle, churning the emotions that blazed through its peculiar soul. The one that interested it right now was anticipation.

The Nemeti blades were coming. It could feel it in the way reality shifted ever so slightly, as their fate carried them to its mistress. Solfis had worked out the way they functioned during the first night. A thread carried them to their victim, where they struck with unerring accuracy. It was a powerful ability made even deadlier by the number of assassins and their total disregard for self-preservation. In order to win, the only option was to block every last possible path to her. There could be no fate if there was no possibility of victory.

And so, Solfis calculated every possible path.

And it blocked them.

The shadows shifted. Solfis bent backward, letting the first assailant dig his blade in the packed earth. In the same movement, Solfis lifted itself on its hand and swung both legs around in a circle, catching two more. Pandemonium was unleashed on the camp. Dark-scaled Nemeti battled Enorian rangers, Baranese assassins, and northern dark blades in a flurry of quiet slaughter. Blood soaked the ground. Solfis’ second had cut the first in half as he retreated, then he lunged forward and caught a fourth with the very tip of its right leg. It pinned the body down and twisted.

A sword came at Solfis’ face. The golem twisted its head and struck at the same time, its attack dodged by a hair. A series of swipes was avoided. To the side, the Paramese beat a hasty retreat against a fierce foe that killed them quickly. Another dark figure engaged the master killer and the dance resumed.

Solfis was left against its singular opponent.

//Sent against me specifically, I see.

//Unfortunately for you…

//You are too weak to touch my destiny.

The exchange quickened. Solfis deflected a series of thrusts and managed to catch the foe’s hand, but it slipped away and the golem was forced to pin another assassin to the bunker’s door before it could attack the enchantments guarding it. It was both frustrating and challenging to oppose the assassin without dueling mode, for the golem could not afford to lose sight of its mistress’ abode.

The adversary teleported to Solfis flank. Solfis hip checked him. He was off balance. Solfis surged forward. The dance reached a paroxysm but every time the golem cornered its opponent, the foe slipped away with deceptive ease. The assassin grew bolder and more desperate as time passed and more of its allies fell. Blood soon covered its scales from glancing slashes.

Another Nemeti found the bunker door and placed a package at its base.

Solfis turned. In three quick lunges, it was at the gate, twisting on itself and sending the dangerous item high into the sky. It was the moment the assassin had waited for. He bypassed the golem’s guard and jumped.

The assassin’s dagger plunged deep into Solfis’ eye cavity in a sound of cracking bones. One of the baleful eyes dimmed when the blade pierced the entire skull.

//Well done.

//But my head holds nothing vital.

With a ghastly sound, the golem punched through the Nemeti’s chest.

Some of its sensors were damaged. The repair system kicked in, focusing on the more damaged areas first. Overall efficiency was decreased. Overall confidence remained high. The shadows moved again, revealing the hooded form of Irao, surrounded by a cadre of Hadal elders. The old killer touched his shoulder. Glistening blood coated his fingers.

“Interesting.”

//Those are poisoned.

“I am aware. And immune.”

The battle had moved south towards the Baranese camp. More soldiers were joining the shadow war as they returned from patrols or rushed out from tents. It was getting so noisy, some of the sentries might even notice.

//How about… a bout of friendly competition?

Irao’s eyes narrowed.

“Speak.”

//I knew you would take the bait.

Dawn rose over the plains of Halluria for what would be the third day of battle. Viv moved after her soldiers through the massive portal made by Sidjin, an active casting the likes of which he’d only deployed once before, when saving the Merl from their doom. The Harrakans were among the last to deploy because Jaratalassi assessed there might be a chance they could locate her in real time. Around her, the witchpact walked tensely as they were still mostly out of quarrels. That was fine. Other groups were tasked with carrying the day.

Viv cast a concerned glance at Solfis, still showing signs of damage to his skull and ribcage. The bone was somehow repairing itself but what concerned her was how smug the golem looked. One would think it was difficult to appear smug with no facial expressions, yet here they were.

Also, Viv realized she was tense as well. She was back to normal and as safe as could be on a battlefield, and yet being drowned among other troops, she felt less in control of herself. It was strange and rather unsettling.

It was the first time since coming here that she would just be a cog in a massive war machine. The difference was, back on earth, no one had signed up to follow her.

//Relax, Your Majesty.

//Your tension is influencing the others.

//Even the One Hundred are closing ranks.

“I’m worrying for nothing. Probably.”

//If it is any comfort, even accounting for a significant swell of the enemy numbers, we have excellent chances of winning.

//Much better odds than… most of your endeavors.

“Oi!”

Despite that, Viv still felt nervous. Most of the tension left her when they finally crossed the portal, coming in full view of the plain.

In front of her, the titanic Nemeti camp expanded so far it might as well have been a city. It was still crawling with activity though most of its denizens were now massing in front of it in neat, well-organized groups. The cavalry was back in action, or rather, enough reinforcements had come that the Nemeti could now mass them in large numbers. Viv didn’t notice too many arrays but there were now also roving bands of creatures holding javelins, faster and leaner than their counterparts. The Empire of Dawn, too, had gathered its troops. Worse, despite their losses, the survivors were fit and hale. It was likely that the death of so many the past few days had only provided better sustenance for the remaining ones, another explanation as to how they’d survived the trip through the continent’s second most hostile landscape.

There were just… so many of them. The Paramese army was standing slightly above them and from this vantage point, their numbers defied counting. Oh, she could make an estimate and say there were probably around fifty thousand but that was a number that the human mind couldn’t really comprehend. It was more a statistics, an organization, and now that statistics spread before her eyes in mighty squares determined to kill her. At this distance, they became organic, quivering masses of spears and muscles moving under the will of a hidden cowled creature like the thousand feet of an insect. It was… rather intimidating.

That was until she looked around her. Now, the Harrakans were inserted in a more traditional formation of subsequent lines and those lines extended, and extended, and extended… Her gaze covered spear lines, assault lines in heavy armor with two handed weapons, skirmishers, all mixed for maximum effect. There was mail, plate, leather, cloth, steel helms and colorful hats, flags, pennants, banners, horns and drums and flutes. Such a diverse mix would have been impossible to wield normally, but under Jaratalassi’s masterful hand, it was a complex checker where everyone was exactly where he intended. And behind those soldiers came the casters.

Param didn’t use siege machinery outside of sieges but they had better anyway. Now the mages of many nations worked in circles designed to bring punishment. The mana over the valley thickened, warped in reaction to the monumental amount being drawn from cores and injected into constructs. An orchestra of signals rang across the lines when the last regiment made it through, placing themselves behind the Harrakans to act as a reserve. The Nemeti drummed answered in kind. A dissonant contest of sound heralded the contest of might. Both armies moved towards each other with confidence and eagerness. Raucous calls echoed down the line. A horn blast gave her the signal she’d be waiting for. It was the sign for general charge.

Like a man, both formations on the side marched on. The Harrakans didn’t move though. They were waiting for her.

Viv sighed. Somehow, the fear she felt was evaporating. There was only one path left and it was forward and down. In a way, it was relaxing.

A sort of whine caught her attention. Lak-Tak was looking up with his big owly eyes, pleading quietly.

“Oh alright. Make way!”

The One Hundred split their rank without looking to let the array through. Somehow, the Yries had managed to add even more spikes to the front bumper to the point it looked like the business side of a hedgehog. Once she was at the front, Viv used a sound enchantment to make herself heard.

“First to the fight! First to draw blood. For the Black Tide!”

The array tank jumped forward while her driver trilled his pleasure. Viv belatedly checked the brake lever to confirm it looked solid, then decided she wouldn’t touch the damn thing at all. The Harrakans would not be the first to hit the Nemeti. Some shield breaker formations would get there first. That would be small comfort for the first rank of spearmen receiving them though.

Impact. The belt bit Viv’s shoulder. She activated the shield then, just in case. With a last second roar, the Harrakan wedge slammed into the Nemeti lines, tossing bodies around. As expected, they couldn’t muster the energy to counter-charge with the bouts of speed that qualified them, but their discipline still allowed them to hold on. To her side, spells ravaged the Nemeti flanks, covering them moments before the rest of the Paramese made contact. The melee began, more furious among the newcomers than the wary Harrakans since they had to prove themselves. Squads moved behind the enemy lines, fierce warriors with shields and lithe hunters with what Viv now recognized were javelin throwers. The implements looked like handles with cups at the end.

The skies were soon full of arrows, spears, and stones. With their shields active and their quarrels all but exhausted, the Harrakans were an island in a sea of destruction. The drums of the Empire of Dawn now beat faster, giving orders with more speed than ever before. Formations shifted to answer dangers. Some rotated, and for a while, the battle was in a state of balance. Viv knew it couldn’t last. The Nemeti were the first to break the stalemate.

Screaming red clusters of fiery death were the first across the skies. It was a great surprise to Viv that most of them were not, in fact, aimed her way. A flash of hope warmed her chest. If the Nemeti were no longer focused on killing her, that meant they were either resigned or desperate.

The answer was immediate. Viv shivered, feeling all the concentrated mana released at once around her. Battle mages from Helock, royal artillerists from Baran and Enoria, witches, northern casters and all Jaratalassi could get his hands on, all of them released their spells at once.

For a few seconds, the skies over Halluria were a rain of meteors in daylight. Shrieking projectiles drowned the drums and the cries of the living and for a moment, the world held its breath.

The first crashes happened overhead when interceptors hit the fate bolts, mere pops before the real show and yet, already so damn loud. Viv only had a couple of seconds watching the death kaleidoscope descend like so many sunsets.

“Shit. Brace!”

She increased the energy in her shield, closed her eyes, and blocked her ears.

She gasped when the shockwave reached them. The earth shook hard enough to force her to grip the tank’s frame, then a cloud of dust swallowed the entire Harrakan formation. For a while, the world was reduced to Viv and the steel under her soles, under her gloved fingertips. She’d grown so used to perceiving the world through mana that this blindness woke up an oppressive feeling of claustrophobia. Ambient mana was now a multicolored whirlwind of spent energies, struggling to bleed back into the background. It took a few seconds for combat to resume, and another two minutes for enough of the debris to clear until Viv could see what was happening.

The Nemeti second line was devastated. All that remained of it were vast, limb-strewn craters. More reinforcements were rushing in to fill it but right now, the Nemeti line was thin near the front. Behind that, the landscape had changed. A tide of steel was closing from the right like a revolving door, trampling enemy formations. The cavalry was here for the knockout punch.

It was a perfect chance.

“Push forward! Nuées!”

The Harrakans went on the offensive backed by a devastating barrage. Quarrels from the witch pacts found elites, sometimes through their shields. Sidjin unleashed one of his nasty blenders on the entire right flank. Led by the One Hundred, the Harrakans grimly shoved the Nemeti aside. Their lines buckled. Out of the gap, the witch pact charged out.

It was like the jaw of a wolf closing on a hapless leg. Every squad isolated from the rest was overwhelmed and shanked in moments. The Sisters were especially rabid. Viv watched it all enfold from the tank. Here, a tall Nemeti was rallying his soldiers. He caught a blast for his troubles. Over there, javelin throwers scored hits against exposed witch pacts. She cleared them out with a net. Viv would have loved to have the Order of the Blue Rose with her but they were out there living their best lives.

The Nemeti army was buckling. They still outnumbered the humans but they now lacked the oomph to match human elites toe-to-toe. The wave of knights fell back, leaving battered formations behind but it was only a matter of time before they were lost. Fate was no longer on the side of the Empire of Dawn, now that their opponents had united. The drums changed and this time, they had a solemn beat. The Nemeti stopped attacking. They withdrew towards the center, where the cowled figure stood.

“Are they retreating?” someone asked.

Viv didn’t think so. The elite Nemeti in scarlet scales all gathered in concentric circles around their leader. It looked more like a last stand than a preparation to fall back. Chants emerged from the formations. The Nemeti army was slowly forming a circle.

The signal to engage came from distant horns. Viv ordered the Harrakans forward at a pace to let her allies reform and catch up.

Suddenly, a strange shockwave made her reel. Looking around, she saw that no one else seemed affected. The ghostly image of Solfis head popped out of nowhere a few steps away from her. It hung in the air like some grisly decoration.

A second later and the tank moved forward. At the same time, Solfis coiled around the array, approaching Viv. He stopped at the perfect time for the bone mask to match the illusion to the millimeter.

//Your Majesty…

“Fuck, it’s a spell. It’s a spell! Charge. Charge! Sidjin, we need to interrupt them.”

Viv sent a runner to Jaratalassi but the old fox didn’t need her help. Already, all forces were converging on the bunched up Nemeti. More spells flew and more victims joined the corpse piles. And then, the first circle of Nemeti, with uncanny coordination, all lifted a dagger and plunged it into their chests.

They collapsed.

“Ok. Not good. Not good.”

A sort of vibration set Viv’s teeth on edge. They had to end this fast. Viv led the charge with her unleashed powers, now that the threat of artillery was gone. First Rakan, then Lana and Sidjin grouped with her until they were just ram plowing through flesh, yet the Nemeti stood and died with unbreakable faith. And the second circle sacrificed themselves.

This time, the hum of power became audible even to the humans. Viv threw spell after spell at the distant shapes of the red scales far behind enemy lines, scoring more kills. The rest of the Paramese didn’t need prompts to understand what had to be done. Enorian archers were especially deadly, picking the unmoving, singing foes at range with terrifying accuracy. The spell weakened but it also accelerated. The singing reached a rushed paroxysm as more of the nobles fell before they could commit their lives to the cause. The cowled figure rose above the ground surrounded by a red halo like a second dawn.

“Hyperbeam.”

Viv wasn’t the only one to try and kill the one who was obviously the focus of the ritual, but the attacks inexplicably missed as they were cast. It seemed that destiny was on the march and as the last of the nobles fell, it could no longer be stopped.

Viv watched powerless as the cowled figure spread its arms in apotheosis.

“Really not good.”

The cowled figure let out a guttural prayer and then he, too plunged a knife down his chest.

The body fell like a puppet with its string cut and the red energy disappeared, suddenly absorbed. For a second, natural colors returned to the plain yet Viv’s meager hope that the ritual had failed dissipated as soon as she saw the remaining Nemeti prostrated in prayers. A wave of power emerged from the center of the army. The dead cowled one inflated, then grew, grew. The scales became more defined and a shimmering red color infused them. Its maw became less insectile and more reptilian until it resembled that of a crocodile. Powerful muscles filled out where lean ones were hidden. The back arched. Powerful claws gripped the earth and still, the creature increased in size. A bus, then a small plane, then a large house. It was… it was a fucking kaiju. A building-sized alligator crossed with a Pitbull.

“Nom de dieu…”

It opened its mouth.

It ROARED.

All across the plain, in an extended wave, the mana settled. Sound died. Motion died. Even magic was smothered. The entirety of Viv’s work since she arrived in this world was folded and compressed until she was less than even the lost woman landing in the throne room. The brand of her soul was silenced. She lived through it, felt it happen, but she was completely powerless to stop it. The shield failed. The runes blinked out. The knights scattered into confused groups from a united front. The human army was forced to a bumbling stop.

Terror hit second.

There was no question of willpower, of fighting it. There was no resistance. There was no shame or hesitation because there was no place in her mind, in anyone’s mind, for anything else but fear. It washed away all she was. Viv’s mind was white cotton and primal fright.

//No.

Run. Run. Others are running too. Run.

//Wait.

Claw on her shoulder. Struggle.

//Look.

“Aaaaaah!’

//LOOK.

Eyes front. Running folks. Discarded shields. Lost spears. Tears in her eyes. Everyone had run away.

All except for one! Viv blinked. The blanket pulled back ever so slightly. She could think. A little.

Everyone had run, except for one person. Normalcy fought back against the tidal wave of horror. A memory nagged at her, an old knowledge, one of life's certainties like gravity and taxes. Viv clawed herself back from the abyss at the sight of a single heavy still standing in line. She grabbed that sight and fought. It was an inescapable, unchanging fact of life that Brick. Never. Ran.

She was still there, facing the advancing titan.

Viv blinked. Fear pulled back, undone. She was herself again because the world was as it should be.

“You asshole, you almost got me.”

“SQUEEEE!”

Viv turned to see a pair of crimson eyes squirting their haughty disappointment.

Mother.

“Ok, I have an excuse, it’s very big.”

No wings!

Poseur!

“Strong magic too.”

Solar came into view as well. Viv assumed he would have stayed but the blade saint apparently had other ideas.

“Hey, Majesty. Are you slaying interesting things without me? And I thought we were comrades in arms.”

“Look, I didn’t know they were going to incarnate a god.”

“Well then, let’s bag it.”

Chapter 161: Fraudzilla

Viv’s enthusiasm lasted as long as it took to take a second look at Turbodzilla. The creature was really, really, really too close for comfort. It wasn’t a couple meters away but everywhere was too close when the thing was the size of a building.

“Ok, back off.”

“Not me. I am going,” Solar declared without even looking at Viv. The large man unsheathed his blade and stalked forward with sure steps. It was an enchanted, Claymore-sized piece, the kind absolutely no one sane should have lent to anybody else but that was Solar for you.

Brick about faced while Viv jumped in the piloting seat of the shield array, pulling it back. She cast a glance at the confident heavy, just a little curious.

[Harrakan Imperial Guard, fourth step. Not very dangerous. Defensive melee expert. Formation fighter expert. Nemeti Killer. Undead bane. THE BRICK: Will amplify friendly aura and negate hostile effect of any level through the power of unerring conviction.]

“Gods, I’ll need to have her carry a big flag on her back. Solfis, make a note of it.”

//I am not your secretary.

“Pretty please.”

//This is for the sake of Harrak.

//I will comply.

Viv had to stop the tank because her men were rushing past her to pick their discarded pieces of equipment with various degrees of shame, anger, and confusion. They also smelled a bit of piss which was unfortunate but not exactly surprising. The second reason Viv stopped was that Lak-Tak was frantically urging her off his spot. The Harrakan line reformed just in time to retreat, in good order this time. In front of them, the Nemeti avatar was advancing with the ponderous confidence of a creature fated to succeed. It seemed that Viv’s ability to cheat fate was once again working as the Paramese alliance was slowly recovering, regiment by regiment, in an expanding circle.

Some of the knights were already charging.

Viv watched them, utterly flabbergasted. Long range archers released entire volleys without prompt since the monster was hard to miss anyway. A cloud of projectiles gathered around it like a halo. For the first time since materializing, it stopped slowly plodding forward.

With surprising speed considering its size, the beast pushed itself upward until it stood on two hind legs. Its front paws accelerated on a collision course.

“Shit. Shield to sound enchantment. Sound!” Viv screamed in her communicator.

To her right, Sidjin’s shield activated immediately. For a moment, it looked like Lana wasn’t going to make it but the opaque hemisphere rose just in time.

KSH!

The beast clapped, the shockwave visible with the naked eye. All the arrows and spears were pulverized in an instant, then the explosion traveled outward. The knights and their horses fell. Thousands of men stumbled back. Only Viv’s formation was spared the worst of the damage.

If Hera ever slapped Zeus, it must have sounded like that.

“Fuck I think those knights’ heads exploded.”

//As I suspected, a powerful area-of-effect ability.

//My frame should be able to resist it.

//I will provide assistance to Solar.

And the golem was off towards the mighty warrior. Of course, that fucker had cut the shockwave in two in front of him because why not. Now he was just walking with the blade bare by his side like some Akira Kurosawa character. It was fine. Viv still had a mighty protector.

When are we going?

“You’re impatient to just go fight that off without a plan?”

Yes?!

Scales look valuable.

“I am surrounded by lunatics.”

Mages were the next to attempt to break the beast. This time, it let the attacks pepper its hide without much apparent result. Artillery spell exploded and it did slow down but otherwise, the scales were intact.

Viv focused. There was something there, she could feel it. A sort of vibration. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but her instincts told her that was important and they tended to be useful when the sake of the continent hung in the balance. It wasn’t normal mana.

Oh.

“Tell me Arthur, that big thing over there, wouldn’t it happen to have strands of fate connecting it to something else?”

It has many strands!

Going all around it.

Of course. She’d been so obsessed with the avatar, she’d almost forgotten what had brought it here.

“It's touching the kneeling Nemeti, the ones who are praying, right?”

Of course!

Else, how would it stay there?

“Right. Ban, take the troops around the avatar and kill the Nemeti. All of them, yes. The mages will stay.”

Viv backed up again, mostly because the creature kept walking. While the Harrakans marched south at full speed around the avatar, Viv watched Solar engage it, soon backed by Solfis. He was not alone either. The generals were no fools, they understood that only the most elite fighters could hope to survive that shockwave and so champions gathered to fight. An elite archer, a guy with a spear, she also recognized the crimson-armored champion of the Order of the White Orchard. Edwin Milderry was also charging down the slope with his stupidly large sword trailing behind him. Viv imagined the Enorian monster hunter duke must have been waiting for that moment since the war began. Now, he finally had a perfect target for his path. For a moment, she believed the avatar would simply keep going or clap again, but then, Solar struck.

The slice came like thunder on a blue sky. So far, every projectile the Paramese could muster had left the creature unfazed. Solar’s attack rang like a chime across the battlefield. A thin hairline fracture spread on the creature’s face, just between the jaw and the nose. The avatar paused. Viv had to use a lens enchantment to see the damage but it was enough.

The beast could bleed. Bright red, in fact. It put its colossal weight on its hind paws. The ground cracked under the clawed appendages and it pounced. Solar dove and sliced under it and the beast turned to follow, bloodied at last. The battle was joined.

“Ok, it’s no longer going towards us. Time for an array.”

Under Sidjin’s direction, all four Archmages carved a large hex circle designed for the express purpose of overcharging Viv. Soon, reinforcements came. Baranese mages wearing different tabards.

“Jaratalassi sent us!” an old man explained as he picked up on the design in an instant. “Slave to master array? Really?”

“Trust us, trust her,” Sidjin replied without looking up.

More and more casters sprinted or flew her way while the Paramese army split in two to avoid the central conflict and reach the Nemeti as they kneeled exposed. The various mage orders had realized that only their largest constructs could hope to dent to avatar, and they worked hastily to build them.

Viv focused on the inner part of the circle, the casting one rather than the feeding one. Arthur stamped her feet at her side.

Mother!

I want to gooooo.

But I don’t want to leave you.

“Can you defend yourself against this thing?”

Of course!

Air shield for sound, wings, and gates.

I can do it all.

“Then you can go.”

This is not what worries me!

“Sorry, Arthur, I need to focus on this.”

Fine.

Viv added the finishing touch, then she had to wait because more people were plugging themselves into the circle, mostly court casters serving smaller lords. She activated the runes for hyperbeam and waited, the runes rotating in front of her chest where her physical core was. The circle helped stabilize the array and charge it more, then more, then more to a degree the original spell never intended. Power flooded in from casters and the reserves their focus still held. It filled the inner circle, converted to black mana by Viv and her spell. All the time, she kept an eye on the creature but it was too busy fighting the many ants gnawing at its heels.

It was weird how incomplete the avatar felt. There was so much wrong with it, so much that it should be doing. As more power gathered around Viv, her vision obscured. Colors bled out of the air until everything was monochrome and so very sharp. She couldn’t see fate but knowing it was there, the part of her that related to the soul perceived a loss, a handicap more damning than missing several senses. The Avatar should have been destiny marching over the infidels. Instead, it was just a mask, a husk with the appearance but not the substance of inevitability. Viv highly suspected… she’d broken it by simply existing. According to the logic of Nyil, she shouldn’t be here at all to begin with and without the power of Emeric, she shouldn’t have so much impact… but she was here and she was blessed with luck, and predestination served her to make her life interesting. The Nemeti relied on a power that was never meant to be used, only managed.

If that was true, no wonder the Nemeti were desperately trying to off her.

While Viv’s mind was overwhelmed with impressions, the spell reached a paroxysm. Saturated energies manifested as black, dancing forms around her. She pushed because she could absorb a little more energy. Just a little more. There was just so much of it. It was practically solid and so very beautiful. So impossibly so, the ability to bend the world. A blessing.

“V… Viv! The circle!”

The construct moaned. Terror filled the eyes of the mages around her. They didn’t trust her. That was fine. There was enough here to do what must be done.

“Hyperbeam.”

The world went gray. A rift now linked the space in front of Viv to the space inside of the avatar, a rift where nothing was allowed to exist. The hex silenced the entire battle, forcing the two sides apart. It didn’t land perfectly because fate was not yet written, but it landed well enough because Viv had practiced for such a moment.

Colors reestablished themselves. Even Solar hovered at a distance, uncertain. Viv held her breath.

Flesh and scales slowly peeled off the beast’s torso in the following second, cleanly shorn. Blood spurted like a cascade from the ghastly wound. A great crimson torrent stained the golden hide and the intact scale in a dripping blasphemy. The hit was devastating. Even a creature that size must have felt it.

The beast howled, painfully so. Its cry was the echoed cry of outrage of a thousand reptilian throats, and a nail on the thin fabric of causality, a grating sensation that this shouldn’t be happening.

“Fuck you, it should be happening,” Viv said with triumph.

It glared at her. The creature ignored wounds dug by elites in its flanks as it turned its gigantic body aside, its full attention dedicated to Viv. She felt the overwhelming weight of the rage of an empire directed solely at her. Then, the creature charged her down. Really quickly.

“Oh shit.”

THAT was what worried me.

Quick, mother!

Climb!

On the one hand, she could probably shadow walk away.

On the other hand, the rest of the mages might be on the path, her side could use the distraction, and this was the second time in her damn life she could do some offensive dragon riding. It wasn’t really a choice, was it?

“Let’s fly!”

“SKRAAAAAA!”

Viv jumped on Arthur’s back, then she hung on for dear life because the dragon used wind mana to accelerate like a jet, her wings fully open to catch as much as that sweet upstream as possible. Air pressure pulled Viv’s lips back from her teeth in a rather embarrassing display but at least it got her away from the creature. The monster stopped, inertia carrying it tens of meters forward in a shower of upturned soil and collapsing boulders. A drill-sized hand plunged into the earth, tore it off, and threw a veritable landslide at the flying pair.

“Gate?”

Cover me!

Viv raised a transparent shield to stop blunt attacks. The first gravel pinged off harmlessly. Larger boulder coming in. Cut it with a net.

The next was a fucking handball field.

“Arthuuuur!”

Air, then air but less crowded. Arthur banked down while behind them, an uphill explosion swallowed where they’d been. That would have been difficult to block.

Time for vengeance!

Fly by!

Arthur roared and dove hard. Viv prepared a thick artillery spell and waited. The dragoness was the first to strike, vomiting thick fire on the back of the beleaguered avatar. The beast turned to strike at Solar who had landed a few good hits, then it tried to unlatch Milderry who’d somehow planted himself sword first in its leg. The fire and spell combo rolled on its back, leaving behind blackened scales but not much else to speak of.

Back, strongly armored.

“I noticed, but I’m not sure we should —”

Fly between legs!

“BEHIND YOU!”

A maw, open and filled with serrated teeth.

It took the pair everything to veer off, both gray mana, aerodynamics, and enough telekinesis to give Viv a headache. The avatar had risen on its leg and taken a tentative bite at the pair. Only collaboration saved them here.

Have saliva on my tail.

Ew!

“You wanted to fly against that alone?”

Mother.

It hates you.

Am just keeping you alive.

Focus.

“Damn. Oh it’s throwing stones again!”

Cover!

Viv sent interception spells at stones large enough to level a barn and wondered if this was what her earth friend Gevaudan meant when he used to talk about ‘bullet hell’.

The Black Tide crashed on the side of the Nemeti formation without resistance. The Nemeti merely kneeled and prayed, uncaring about their demise. Ban surveyed them and sneered.

Pathetic.

Blind idiots relying on the leader to save them and carry the fight. Weaklings. He served the ‘empress’ though he remembered her as a hesitant revolutionary so vividly, it was hard to think of her as some bigwig, because it was a national effort. The outlander girl, the dragon girl, the northern mages, the Hallurians, the Hadals, the heavies, even that old tanned cornudon hide masquerading as a person, Poacher, were part of the effort. They were part of what made Harrak a force to be reckoned with despite being objectively a group of talented rejects on the continent’s ass boil. He hated the Nemeti because they reminded him of him. Before he was given a chance to make a change. Back when any two-bits prince could destroy his life for five silvers per slave. Leaders couldn’t be trusted to achieve everything. Hell, most of them couldn’t be trusted at all. That was why he was the tip of the spear now.

The girl was lucky she had him. He would show her why. No resistance? That was their mistake.

“Spread out. Kill them all. Any of you cunts who slays less than fifty will be scraping shit off chamber pots till seeding.”

“You heard the fucker, get those machetes swinging!” Poacher screeched.

And they went to work.

Up and down, to the side. Viv and Arthur focused on defense and speed, forcing the avatar to fling ever more earth at them to hope to catch them. The ground around it was looking like a moon landing by now, and many of the elites were retreating, bleeding, or dead. Param was running out of options quickly and the gaping wounds covering the beast’s body didn’t seem to hinder it in the slightest.

“Another run!”

Viv didn’t know what else to do.

Between legs!

“Okay.”

Arthur accelerated to a speed that forced Viv to shield her face or be blinded. They closed in under another shower of rocks, Viv preparing an Excalibur. The pair raked the beast’s underbelly with fire and slicing hunger.

“Dodge!”

The time, a tail slap missed them by a handspan. Viv’s ears rang from the shock and Arthur shook. They managed to recover before being caught again. Solar used the opening to slice a finger off while Solfis tore at its open gashes.

“How much can this thing… oh.”

The damage was spreading.

Finally, after all this effort, the avatar was slowly coming apart at the seams. The explanation was not just the wounds but the wave of soldiers rolling over the praying Nemeti from all sides, executing them where they stood. With the power sustaining it being literally cut down, the avatar could no longer fully maintain its presence. Its scales grew less opaque, its blood evaporated. The physical shell slowed down, which Solar used to attempt a decapitation, failing when it was blocked by a paw.

Viv had concerns.

The Nemeti had proven to be as tenacious as they were vindictive, killing themselves to call for a creature capable of reversing the tide of battle. There had to be more, …aaaaand here it was.

The creature coiled on itself like a cat, or an ouroboros, head resting over its tail. Its defenseless posture should have been enough to allow Solar and the others a killing blow, yet the bleeding essence acted as a shield while the avatar turned from walking disaster to symbol. Power gathered in its center until it was visible as a shimmer in the air. For the Nemeti, that thing must have shone like the sun.

“Another pass!”

I cannot get close.

Too much fate mana.

It could be enough to undo even me!

“We need to stop that thing.”

Cannot get close.

Need some dispersal.

More mana.

“Spells?”

Any mana.

“Get me close to Solar first.”

The pair landed next to the sword saint and the quickly assembling elites. Most of the archers were still there, though their quivers looked empty. Concerned glances betrayed the desperation behind their stoic postures.

“We need mana-charged attacks to disrupt the spell before it finishes gathering.”

“We can do that but you’d better get the mages,” a northern blade dancer told her.

“They’re next.”

“Where should we focus our attacks?” Solar asked with urgency.

“The head, it’s always the damn head,” Duke Milderry spat.

Everyone looked at him.

“What? I’m a monster hunter. That’s a big monster. Get the damn head.”

“We’ll try, then what?”

“I have a finisher spell,” Viv said. “It’s fairly short range, very risky but since the thing is not moving anymore…”

“You can’t get close?”

“Too much fate mana. You will feel it if you get near.”

By that we mean, you will be unmade.

Arthur’s declaration was received in stupefied silence.

I am serious.

It will be your fate not to exist anymore.

“I’d better get going because I feel like this will be all of our fates if that thing goes off,” Viv said.

Arthur crossed the distance back to the Paramese lines at great speed, though by that time they were thin from the bulk of the forces finishing off the Nemeti. She first aimed for the circle where Sidjin still stood, but then reconsidered and made for the command group still monitoring the situation at the back. Arthur landed near Jaratalassi under the absolutely shocked gaze of the assembled strategists.

“Is she… is she riding a dragon?”

“By all the gods…”

“Now’s not the time to be amazed,” Viv reproached. “General, we need mana tossed at that thing, specifically the head. Any mana. Spells, anything, doesn’t matter. It will disrupt its working.”

“Understood, but will it stop it?”

“I’ll stop it alright, I just need an opening.”

“You will have it. Get ready.”

Arthur twirled and lifted off in a burst of air that sent papers flying. It was totally unnecessary.

I have been seen with a human on my back.

Mother!

I am disgraced!

Shame eternal!

My bank will lose reputation.

“I’m not a human, remember dear? I’m half-elemental.”

Oh.

Yes.

That is acceptable then.

And also she’d been seen over the skies of Helock but Viv felt it was not the right time to remind her daughter. The order coursed through the spread out Paramese alliance like a thunderbolt. The mages returned to casting with overwhelming fury, unleashing everything they had but the rest of the soldiers were closing the distance at a dead sprint and Viv realized why. Hybrid casters and ranged soldiers stopped where they were comfortable and attacked as well, then the soldiers themselves threw pebble-sized balls of fire, or fistfuls of rocks, or sprays of water in the general direction of the spell. Individually, they were droplets but there were tens of thousands of people and the newly manifested mana pushed the spent one forward. A nimbus of color formed around the resting form of the avatar like a lenticular cloud over a lone mountain and the alien mana was pushed up and away. The beast stirred but it was not enough.

“Get me closer.”

Viv started casting. It would be difficult. Very difficult. She’d never tried that spell while moving and she knew it was hard to maintain but there was no choice. Already, the shimmer was turning into a radiance and the closest soldiers had to run away, armor eaten away to nothingness.

“Come on come on come on. Ok, dear, we’re going to fly by and I’ll drop from your back, okay? Please trust me.”

“Squee?”

“I know you’re worried. I’ll be fine, I promise. I have a plan.”

The avatar was shaking now, shaking and disintegrating, but the spell was going to go off. She could feel it. They might be too late.

If they were caught…

“I have to go in now.”

You won’t make it!

“Maybe I will! No choice! Go!”

Arthur dove but Viv could read the mana on the wall. They were not going to make it.

And then she saw a form sprint through the deleterious aura. It was Milderry. Even though the fate concentration was thinner, parts of him were already blinking out.

“You old—”

“Have to show you young fuckers how to do everything!” the old monster hunter roared.

His disappearing silhouette jumped, massive sword held high. It didn’t last long, but it lasted long enough.

His massive weapon smashed into the avatar’s left eye, carving it like a melon. Blood and humor poured freely from the devastating wound. For the first time since casting the spell, the avatar reacted. Its head lashed out. The spell shook and fell apart at the seams but it was still strong enough to kill them all.

But that was all Viv needed.

Letting herself fall, she dove right at the avatar. The beast saw her with its one remaining orb. It opened its maw wide to receive the offering. Viv waited for the very last instant.

“Aspect of the destroyer.”

It hurt when Viv went from terminal velocity to no velocity at all. Something cracked and she tasted blood but it didn’t hurt as much as the jaws would have, snapping in front of her nose. The anchors on her shoulder blades strained but they held.

“You missed.”

All her remaining power flooded her conduits until they disgorged mana into the one spell she’d been casting all that time. It was much easier than expected. Perhaps it made sense since she was doing exactly what her aspect was expected to do. Excalibur blades bloomed in a full circle like flowers in front of her, then their cruel tips curved inward to form a ball encompassing most of the avatar’s head. She couldn’t really read reptilian expressions but the thing certainly looked surprised.

“Guillotine.”

The blades snapped shut.

Nyil hiccupped.

Viv swallowed a curse. She was forcefully unanchored, then pushed out, all spells dissipating. The concentration of mana of all sorts at the same place dispersed now that an overwhelming will was no longer here to gather it in one place. There was so much of it that it acted like a wind, buffeting her until she was forced to crash at a distance. The blow stole her breath. A sharp pain lanced through her body, strained as it was by her earlier sudden stop.

“I’m just going to stay here for a minute…” she mumbled to herself.

Arthur landed by her side and they watched the enfolding scene alone with the soldiers far in the back. The coiled form of the avatar dissipated, fading scales returning to nothingness. The vivid blood turned to transparent watery ichor and then to nothing. Even the bones underneath turned to ash. It was not the decay of death but an undoing, a bad dream fading with the morning light.

My loooot.

“Hush, we’re having a moment!” Viv complained.

Anyway, yeah. Pretty awe-inspiring. The disappearance continued until all that was left was a broken skull stabbed through by a corroded great sword. The piece shone strangely in her sights. All that remained of Edwin Milderry, Enorian Duke of Green Edge and monster slayer extraordinaire. Viv approached it, then stopped.

“Should we… bring it back to Green Edge?” she asked no one in particular.

“I don’t think it will work,” Solar replied. “Look again.”

In Nyil parlance, that meant use inspection. So she did.

[Artifact. Duke Milderry’s parting gift. A god with a plan. A man with a claymore.]

“I don’t think he wants to leave,” Solar whispered.

“So it is. May Enttiku carry your soul and may Neriad watch her back, you old bastard.”

Viv prayed to the two gods a bit. She was joined by a general sense of piety from the armies surrounding the remains, all humbled for having witnessed the death of an avatar and the making of an artifact. It was a good one too, and most could sense the old monster hunter had saved everyone’s ass.

Viv breathed out.

They’d done it.

All that was left was the mop up. It took a while longer for the Nemeti to finish dying, after which Jaratalassi organized the official looting of them and their camp. The creatures kept little iron and shared a disinterest for wealth, but a camp that size was bound to have some good stuff, Viv hoped. She was unceremoniously dropped by Arthur and decided to help with the sick instead. The avatar’s mana explosion had left thousands of men sick with mana poisoning and she was capable of pulling foreign mana out, though she couldn’t use it for her own. That made her invaluable in saving the most critical patients.

The Harrakans returned with pride but a somewhat frozen expression late in the evening, with Viv welcoming them at the gates. The Knights of the Blue Roses were part of the formation with the need for knightly unity over and offensive poetry back on the menu. Rollo and Ban shared in low voices that slaughtering the defenseless Nemeti had made them uncomfortable. Even as alien as they were, there was something fundamentally upsetting about slitting the throat of a defenseless creature. In a way, Viv was happy they had that much humanity left after the four days of hell they’d been through. She used a brief lull between a victory dinner and the inevitable council to check her progress.

Willpower +1

Always good. She was now at the middle of the fifth tier, something at the upper limit of human capabilities. It would help her last longer in a fight and get one step closer to the level of Elunath at his strongest. Only hopefully without the hubris.

Acuity reflex: Intermediate 8

That reaction speed had allowed her to stop the deadliest projectiles. Many of her skills were on the verge of the expert level. That was how she got the draconic intimidation skill so she had high hopes.

Leadership: Intermediate 8

Speaking of…

And that was it. Not much for stopping this sort of threat, she thought, but the second of four aspects was a powerful game changer and, if she had to be honest, she lacked the foundation to progress much farther. It was always the same here. Practice, prepare, then reap the benefits. She was already very lucky, no need to push it. Even the aspect thing felt very timely. She suspected this brave old Nous had tilted the balance in her favor, helping her along so she could rise up to the occasion. The Nemeti were not exactly conducive to the development of civilization in Param, after all.

So, that confirmed it, there were other gods. Probably a great many. She wondered if pantheons interacted with each other in that city of theirs. She wondered if they warred.

Perhaps there was a dragon god. She might ask Arthur but… maybe she wouldn’t like the answer.

“My love! Food!” Sidjin called.

“Coming!”

By the time the closing meeting happened, troops were already departing the field on their way back home, even at night. Most others were celebrating a hard day, or hard days, of battle. The mood was festive and a little bewildered, as if they didn’t believe it had come to a close so soon. Inside of the command tent, the general mood was utter relief. Viv also realized that things have changed because, for once in her damn life since coming on that hellhole of a planet, people were happy to see her.

“Your Ladyship!”

“Capital work.”

“A brilliant display.”

“Is it true that the dragon is your adopted daughter? Your daughter? How did you manage such a feat?”

Viv, unwilling to admit that the road to power was paved with scritches and interest rate policy lessons, simply welcomed the compliments with a warm smile. There were handshakes, bows, and nods all around although Viv didn’t bow since she was the boss thank you very much. After that, the generals had a short meeting where it was agreed the strategy had worked exactly as intended until the whole god summoning fuckery, and it was time for booze and canapes.

“Solfis, please make a note that we need an Imperial Chef. It’s time to recruit.”

//Such fleshbag considerations are beneath me.

“You’re a dear.”

//Just get Brick her flag.

Viv mingled along with Sidjin. Even Solfis slinked out to talk to a spy at some point. The people she met would be an excellent point of contact for the next battlefield, and that one would be social. King Sangor was not the most pleased but he accepted her condolences graciously, at least.

“Sorry, you lost a great man here.”

“His sacrifice honors Enoria and the Nyil. The best expression of gratitude will be to make sure Green Edge flourishes again. His domain will become a new center for expeditions in the Deadshield Woods within the next two years. I will personally make sure it is so.”

“Great. Good luck.”

Seeing that the big man was free, Viv ambled towards him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to conquer the continent in a tide of steel and sorcery?” Jaratalassi asked her as he filled his pipe.

“Not my style, and besides, we’re still very small.”

“Hmmm.”

He seemed disappointed.

“You reckon the alliance will acknowledge me as a sovereign nation yet?”

“While it seems they have no choice but to do so, the terms you can get will vary depending on how you leverage your assets. Baran is firmly on your side at least. The king knows the value of superior logistics. So long as you retain a monopoly, you will also retain his full backing.”

“Also because he can piss Sangor off.”

Jaratalassi lit the pipe.

“Welcome to my world.”

After another hour or so, Viv excused herself before someone else subtly inquired about marriage options. The Harrakan camp was now in drinking mode and she roved from group to group, congratulating people then fucking off before things got awkward. She only remembered her poor temple guard and the plagued people later and felt sorry for it. A brisk walk to their camp confirmed they had received all the supplies they needed, at least.

“Everyone brought extra so we had quite a few boxes donated,” an exhausted priestess of Enttiku told her.

“Oh, good.”

“You intend to bring them back to your lands, do you not? They seem to hope for it. Fervently so.”

“Probably. Not like they are welcome anywhere else.”

“Yes, and they seem rather, ah, motivated.”

Viv frowned.

The priestess focused very intently on her sleeve.

Viv stalked into the camp and past a sleepy Lorn holding a small piece of paper with ‘I give up’ written on it. Panic rose in Viv’s throat. The prisoners were singing in low voices near the center of the camp. When she approached, delirious eyes zeroed on her with laser focus. The fuckers had somehow knitted a big banner and on it they had sewn the semblances a very dead fleshy humanoid, a very dead spider, a very dead man in armor, and a very dead Notzilla.

“It’s her! The Godbreaker!”

“What did I fucking tell you?”

Chapter 162: Roaring Harrak.

“So, tell me, what have you learned?” the king asked.

His spymaster picked his notes. The old fox didn’t need them as his memory was pretty much perfect, but old habits were a safe house where the mind could more easily find its focus.

“To start with, the weak. Their cavalry consists of exiled nobles from various nations. Their equipment is subpar and they lack tradition, thus cohesion and meaning. As for now, we assess that they will remain a non-issue for the next two decades. The only compliment we can make is that they exist and train hard. Not every city-state can field heavy cavalry, after all.”

“I am well aware. Especially not one led by Lord Rollo, who was supposed to join the royal host, hmm?”

“Ahem, yes. That’s where the good news stops. The crossbow troops are quite capable. We estimate that their paths and gear gives them unmatched penetration at their step. They are a danger to even heavily armored troops.”

“Like our own knights?”

“Even during a charge when our defenses are at their highest. My aides and I assess that the effect will only grow in power as their best soldiers take more steps along their path. We are not quite sure how they will compare to experienced archers down the line but we are certain they will pose a greater threat to elites.”

“The infantry?”

“Best on the continent.”

The king lifted a brow but the spy master merely gave an apologetic shrug.

“It is the truth. They have the best training and some of the best gear outside of royal guards that could possibly be achieved. No nation on Param would spend so much iron on a single soldier, except for New Harrak, and they have not proven avaricious even by imperial standards. Their performance during the battle was exemplary. We also have several confirmed occurrences of shield wall charges, a technique that was thought lost with the last legacy free companies. When I say they are the best on the continent, I mean it. No other regiment can compare. And there are almost a thousand of them.”

“Hmph. The casters?”

“If I may, Your Majesty…”

The king gave assent and the spy master reached for a drawing. It was a detailed side view of one of those abominable constructs, this one a strange mix of elegance and brutality. The shield array showed an exquisite attention to detail while the front was a hellish maw of blades and spikes, ready to rend shield walls like a ravenous beast of metal.

“Those… what do they call it?”

“Armored portable shield arrays sir, though the Harrakans use outlander speech, sometimes calling them ‘tanks’ and sometimes, ‘blindés‘.”

The king rolled those words on his tongue. Savage languages used on worse things.

“What about them?”

“They may represent a step up in military doctrine for small, agile, elite formations. For any other armies, they would be thoroughly expensive and impractical. It only works because…”

“Of the quality of their individual soldiers, and the expertise of their engineers. You believe those should be considered pivotal.”

“Yes. And their fabrication remains shrouded in mystery. I recognize them as heavily modified Yries drill machines. They use cores for energy. That version though…”

The king held back a shiver.

“I thought the Yries were peaceful and isolationist.”

“Not those. They seem to hold a grudge against Prince Lancer, may Enttiku rest his soul.”

“And it was enough to overturn centuries of peaceful isolationism?”

“Well, yes and no. Gossiping with the Harrakans revealed that the warring group is led by an individual named Lak-Tak, and that he, and I quote, ‘doesn’t hate humans but sure loves killing them’. His tribe sees him as a lunatic. They fear and respect him in equal measure.”

The king sighed with meaning. Once again, the spymaster held the powerful man’s gaze with polite distance.

“So the witch found herself a murderous Yries and put him in charge of those war machines?”

“It is only a matter of time before all their arrays double as a speeding battering ram and there are few men who would stand still with that abomination racing down a slope heading for them; Your Majesty, we must take this seriously. There is also the matter of tactics. Their square formation is not the best to cover space and they can be easily surrounded. However…”

“They do not have a clear weakness.”

“No. In this regard, surrounding them only means that all of their forces can engage at once. We also estimate that, provided the array is occupied by one of their Archmages, they could withstand strategic spells.”

“You cannot be serious!”

“Head on. And the Archmages would no doubt retaliate. Duke EIkart’s mages report that almost none of the Nemeti’s projectiles reached the shield untouched. They were all intercepted and dispersed. ”

“About those Archmages…”

“Sidjin the Fallen Prince, a new Hallurian prodigy named Rakan of the Four Colors, and Elunath’s most talented apprentice who men have come to call the Tide Weaver. They are just as dangerous as we were led to believe. Frustratingly so considering the little effort the witch had to make to rally them to her cause. Insolent luck. In any case, the slaying of Elunath was no fluke. Your Majesty, you have seen what they can do. You have seen the elemental witch fighting from the back of a dragon. Need I say more?”

“Indeed not. I know Sangor must have contemplated killing them, yet he has never made an attempt or Jaratalassi would have kept them apart. What can you tell me?”

“We know that the Harrakan military is bloated compared to their size. For now, they are little better than an average northern city-state in terms of wealth and population, however. What we did not expect was that as numerous as their warriors are, it is in, shall we say, specialists, that they have the highest numbers.”

“You mean the freaks?”

“Your Majesty, this term poisons your judgment.”

“My mother died on their blades, or have you forgotten?”

“Must we have this discussion again?” the spymaster said with sadness.

The two men sat in silence while the king mulled over old grudges. The spymaster knew his king put the kingdom before his own emotions. It was only a matter of time.

“Very well. The Hadals protect her.”

“Not just them. The Harrakan war golem never sleeps and never shuts down. Its sense can pierce through the thickest veil. She is also mostly immune to poison and diseases. All those factors together provide her with a level of protection that even the most powerful of rulers would struggle to equal. I cannot think of a feasible way to eliminate her with any degree of reliability. Militarily, they could be defeated but the cost…”

“Would be prohibitive. They made themselves too tough of a nut to crack for the benefits it would bring.”

Silence returned to the luxurious tent while the king mulled things over.

“This situation is not unlike an abscess no one wants to pierce. Whoever does it will pay a heavy price and get no rewards, but if the situation is allowed to fester, we may see a return of the empire, and this time, its weaknesses will not be easy to manage anymore. Not with the teleportation system. Or the way so many various cultures seem to just… accept her rule. Somehow.”

“There is much that could still go wrong. As you said, the witch has united many groups under a single banner, and the peace is only kept by her presence. It would take little for the whole edifice to collapse.”

“You told me many times not to rely on the failure of others for my own success.”

“Some of those difficulties could be… induced. It would be difficult, considering she has the support of Lady Azar.”

“She could be removed.”

“She is an old fox with connections who has survived the Baranese court for decades. Underestimating her or the people who surround her would be foolish.”

“I am sensing a pattern, old friend.”

“And you are correct. I would rather shove my hand in a crimson anthill than send an assassin to Kazar. For now, I believe they should be left to develop because the price of interference would be prohibitive. Besides, Harrak is a thorn in Enoria’s side more than in ours. Better to leave them to grow until their power structure becomes more complex with the inevitable weaknesses it brings. Sovereigns rely on their ruling class, and nobles are always hungry for more. Cracks will appear and when the time comes to widen those cracks, we will have the tools to do so. I will make sure of it.”

“Good, because in a hundred years…”

“I know.”

The spymaster unfolded a map on the table between them. It showed Halluria, now with considerably more detail than there used to be even a year before.

“Concerning your other questions, I have talked to the others. We are not certain the project is feasible.”

“A fortified city in Halluria would be much easier to defend than half a continent of borders.”

“With all due respect, the Northerners disagree. Jaratalassi says that lifting a siege on a city inside of Halluria would be excessively difficult. The risk of early strikes by surviving Hallurians warriors is… non negligible as well, should we send troops now. All for a land we have all seen as inhospitable for centuries. We would be hard-pressed to even find volunteers willing to be posted there. I fear Halluria might remain hallurian for the time being.”

“This is the perfect opportunity to expand…”

“I am sorry, sire. Our people simply do not wish to expand into that hellhole.”

“We are landlocked. This is the only direction open to us. My ancestors and I have been defending our borders for as long as our history has lasted. With Enoria on the rise, this is our best chance.”

“I would suggest outposts then. I believe Hallurian civilians might be more receptive to offers of alliance now that most of their warriors have perished. I have contacts among the exiles. We could arrange something alone, carefully.”

“If this is the best we can achieve, you have my approval.”

Viv leaned towards her army’s first defection. Jaratalassi stood at a distance, hands worrying a wide-brimmed hat. Viv had never seen it before. It was a nice hat. Very stylish.

“If you are certain…” she finally said.

The gray-haired Bitter Heart wilted under her gaze. She was red as a lobster, to the point that one of her friends spontaneously came to pat her hand.

“Yes… He’s a very nice man,” the crossbow woman squeaked.

“Then you have my blessing. I officially release you from my service and wish you the best luck in, ah, matrimony?”

“Courting first!” her friend said.

“Well, yes. Fine. And if the old steel trap doesn’t behave…”

“Oh, no problem!” her friend said. “We already threatened him.”

“Good. Well, good luck then.”

Viv stood, announcing the end of the meeting. She still managed to corner Jaratalassi before he could give her the slip.

“Stop poaching my soldiers.”

“It’s just the one, Viviane. I’ll be good.”

“You’d better or the next Harrakan to grace your bed will be Solfis.”

Harrak had lost almost fifty people in a single campaign, with many more wounded. Viv wasn’t sure how she felt about it. The early battles had been difficult but she felt she’d done her best. Some things could have gone better, like the ammunition situation. Some others were, well, they’d gone amazingly well. In theory, most losses happened during a rout, or from diseases, at least in medieval armies so… everything seemed consistent.

A part of her whispered it was her fault, that they’d followed her to their death. There had been screams in the wounded tents. The more rational part reminded her she could only try her best and keep going, or find someone better. Problem was, Param was fresh out of outlander Archmages with a basic understanding of politics and propaganda.

//The convoy is ready, Your Majesty.

//Let us head home.

“Alright.”

The local armies were filing out of the valley in good order. As one of the smaller groups and the more easily mobilized, Harrak was ahead of the larger troops. The portal was working non stop to transport soldiers away but it was only so wide. She used the opportunity to look back from her spot at the front of the column among her knights, towards the regiments standing between supply carts and Yries war machines. Spirits seemed high, perhaps because of the bonus pay that came with more loot. Viv thought they were just jaded, too used to constant death. For Paramese standards, things were fine.

A memory came to her, unbidden. It was the mountain of burning corpses left in the trail of the loyalist army after they’d turned west. That was the norm. She was still soft compared to the locals. She didn’t think it would ever change.

And then there were the Kark and the maniacs at the end. Harrak was the only nation that returned from the war with more people than what it had started with. Her new minions whispered excitedly among themselves in all their strange variety of skin color and faces.

“You think we should learn their languages?” Viv asked the golem as they slowly moved forward.

//I believe it will be required sooner or later.

//I also have plans for a new… military unit.

“You think the Nemeti will return?”

//They will, but not in the same way.

//I’ve discussed it with your daughter.

//Our opinions align.

“You guys have discussions on the nature of fate magic?”

//Yes.

“Without me?”

//As shocking as the concept might be, Your Majesty,

//We are fully independent entities capable of engaging in valuable exchanges of information without your input.

“Yeah yeah, okay. So what was it about them returning?”

//Just as when the Nemeti start winning, they become unstoppable,

//If they do lose as decisively as they have here, the precedent it sets will actually hurt them.

“So they can’t do another land assault.”

//Or they would do it at a massive disadvantage.

“So they might attack by sea next time? Would that work?”

//Yes.

//Which is a massive problem.

“I don’t think it will happen for a while. We can always resurrect the Harrakan fleet.”

Solfis remained silent for a disturbingly long amount of time.

“What?”

//My programming makes it difficult to criticize Harrak.

“So the empire had a shit fleet?”

//The glorious empire achieved many victories.

//Such as in Traeste, off the coast of Bokore, or at Centi.

“Against rebels?”

//Well.

“Against rebels, Solfis?”

//Yes. Also yes. And pirates.

“Huh. And, errr, who are the best sailors around?”

//With the fall of the shadowlands, much of the northern cities have lost their naval military traditions.

//Right now, Vizim is the dominant sea power.

//According to the reports I have read.

“And Harrak, historically…”

//Has struggled to catch up.

//It did not help that, compared to you, the old rulers tended to be less, shall we say…

“Receptive of other cultures?”

//This statement is correct.

//Your flexibility gives me hope for the development of our future naval power.

“Not for a long time.”

//You need to adopt a time frame that matches your life expectancy, Your Majesty.

//Consider the naval issue now, and seed it in decades for results a century from now.

“I mean, with my perfect memory, I bet I could recreate ‘frigates’. Galleons at the very least. With cannons. We’ll have cannons by then. Hey, why are you so close?”

//Tell me more about those ‘galleons’ with ‘cannons’.

“We don’t even have a proper industry yet.”

//Tell me more about industry.

“Sigh.”

“Haaaaalt!”

Despite Viv’s enhanced mind, it took her a solid second to lift her fist and force the two thousand strong Harrakan column to a ponderous stop. The man who’d caused this incident was a pudgy guard in a clean tabard bearing the colors of Duke Ediar of Reixa, whose city stood in the background and whose land they were on.

Viv glared into the depths of the guard’s porcine gaze, finding no signs of intelligence there.

“You lots gotsa pay the toll. Everybody pays the toll. No exceptions.”

He checked the column as it was stuck in the portal.

“Not even for noble folks, beg your pardon. Everybody pays the toll.”

Viv felt a sense of disbelief and amazement at this man so dedicated to the cause he felt comfortable standing in front of armored knights escorting a woman with eyes like a ring of emerald over the void between stars (ok that was a little melodramatic) and light-absorbing gashes in the fabric of reality emerging from her shoulder blades. He was really there, standing his ground.

And now Viv was facing a conundrum, a really uncomfortable one.

Because there were no arrangements in her contract that stated she could freely use the portals to move troops around. Even her trade caravans were not exempt of tolls since local nobles tended to see such exemptions as an unfair competitive advantage and that was toxic in the long run.

It was kind of dickish to force a toll on an army participating in an international effort to defend the continent. Viv had made her opinion clear on what dickish moves against her entailed, but here it was different. That guy was implementing the rules.

If she flaunted the rules here through intimidation, she would prove that rules didn’t apply to the sovereign, something that she’d fought against this far. Justice as an overarching principle rather than a tool of control in the hand of the ruler was a pillar of modern society. If she wanted social progress, she had to make concessions despite her pettiness and tendency to get even.

At the same time, this wasn’t one of her citizens and although fairness was required within a society, she was also expected to be an asshole to ‘others’, the outside group. Foreigners. Her people expected it from her. They wouldn’t understand if she just bent to a person who was socially her lesser by a huge margin.

The pudgy guard was sweating abundantly by now, especially since Solfis had deployed behind Viv. Fortunately, her silence was serving her well because a form in the elaborate dress of a noble was sprinting towards her from a nearby booth. The man slowed to a brisk pace as soon as they were within earshot, several guards joining him without prompting. They didn’t look hostile. In fact, they looked scared. The Enorian noble smoothed his beard and put on a pleasant smile as if he wasn’t in plain sight of the entire vanguard. Appearances had to be maintained, Viv supposed.

“Your Majesty Viviane, such a pleasure to see you again so quickly! Words of your triumph have traveled to us with this morning’s runner. Allow me to congratulate you on the alliance’s victory at the Lizard Pass.”

Renaming landmarks already?

“Considering the circumstances, we will happily waive any fee you might incur, haha. You can also avail yourself to the amenities of my lord’s castle, if you wish. He has a standing invitation for visiting sovereigns.”

Viv was loath to place herself above the law. Getting preferential treatment though? That was quite fine. A bit like being bumped to first class on a plane.

She was kind of being a jerk but this was a jerk planet. When in Rome, throw Christians to the lions.

“I appreciate his offer, however I wish to return home quickly. Thank you for facilitating our passage.”

“Oh, it’s nothing! The portals are yours, after all.”

“Nevertheless, our agreement doesn’t cover armies. I will remember your gesture. Now, if you will excuse me.”

“Of course, of course. Safe travels to you!”

As the column moved on, Viv chuckled at the exchange between the guard and his boss.

“But you said no exceptions, boss!”

“With pissy nobles, not the elemental Archmage who built the gods-cursed gates! Do you know what she does to those who disrespect her? Why am I surrounded by IDIOTS?”

It was amazing how having a reputation for being a bitch helped, sometimes. She was the continent’s Uber Karen or something. Treat me in a princely manner or I’ll call for a manager and an orbital strike. Whatever. She knew with certainty that, as soon as she was back in Harrak, she would be taken down enough pegs anyway.

Her dad was right, no one was a prophet in their own kingdom.

“Why is it that every time you go out, you return with an ever larger pack of mutts? Why do some of those people even have blue skin? Who the hell has blue skin?” Lady Azar muttered.

“They’re from beyond the isthmus, past Halluria.”

“Those fuckers crossed two continents to become mushroom farmers?”

“Err, I think we have some new crops. Some sort of gourds?”

“Are you perhaps knowingly ignoring the point? What am I saying? Of course, you are. Stop bringing new ethnic groups like they are lost kittens. Any more of them and we will officially have more races than are even present on Param. Are you doing a collection? Is that it?”

“Technically, we have Kark, northerners, and Wamiri is from Vizim.”

“Solar’s wife?”

“Yes. So. Yeah…”

The old Baranese countess picked up her dainty tea cup and took a sip while Viv sat there feeling like a naughty student in front of the principal.

“They have requested to be kept together, your blue-skinned strangers from a faraway land. I have selected a village for them,” she finally said.

“They have been through a lot.”

“Most of them do not speak our language. I will have to dedicate one of our newly trained civil servants to the task.”

“You must have someone who is a linguist. This is the first time in recorded history we have contact with isthmus civilizations.”

“Not exactly true. Vizim keeps trade routes.”

“The first time in the history of the continent. Not even the Old Empire knew much about them. There is so much to learn, and some of it could be of interest to us. Magical theories, designs, tactics, methods. Think about it.”

Lady Azar put her cup down. As a gesture of peace, Viv poured tea for the both of them. The older woman acknowledged the gesture with a smile of appreciation.

“You are quite right, though we have a problem. Too many ideas, not enough resources. We are reaching a sort of saturation despite the way our population has exploded so far. The flow of refugees is slowing down as well. Newcomers also need time to set up, build or complete their homes and sow their fields. By the way, your new Kark contingent has requested to live close to the mines. Their fascination with iron is singular.”

“Their land lacks it. They associate iron with power so I expect they will stockpile resources before they return north. Speaking of, how is the mine coming up?

“The first human-made ingots are ready for export or for use. Did you have something in mind?”

“Yes, but I am not sure it fits Nyil and the logic of this world.”

Azar sat back into her chair. It was nice to feel like you had someone’s full attention, Viv thought.

“Kindly elaborate.”

“I want to introduce mass production. Mass production is a way to manufacture goods cheaply, quickly, and in large numbers using the specialization of the workforce, assembly lines, tools and standardization. It’s, well, it would be really useful in making farming equipment cheaply available to everyone which is really important right now, because our production cannot meet the demand. The problem is the existence of paths. We risk turning people into machines who’re only good at one thing.”

“By specialized workforce, you mean someone only does one thing again and again until it’s perfectly done?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmmm. It is not as uncommon as you think for apprentices.”

Lady Azar contemplated the idea for a while.

“I believe we can make it work by employing young people.”

“Child labor?”

“No, young adults. Thirteen and above.”

“Aaaaah that makes me uncomfortable.”

“They would be compensated of course, but consider this. Humans choose their path thanks to the interface. Working for a couple of years in one of the… what are they called?”

“Factories.”

“Yes, an appropriate term. Factories. Well, we can adopt your method to several industries, like coal production. I will set up teams and rotate them often so they do not get too bored. Contrary to what you seem to believe, repetitive activities have benefits. They help increase stats and acquire specific skills such as trances that prove very useful in pretty much every path. You have one yourself, do you not? I have seen you move with your golem.”

“I thought skill information was private?”

Azar dismissed her concerns with a wave of her hand.

“Asking for specifics is rude, stating the obvious is not. Your idea is of interest to me. And the… machines as well. Paths are much more adaptive than you may believe. The interface loves progress. And we do need more hoes.”

“We always need more hoes,” Viv agreed. “And shovels.”

“I am glad to see you keep in touch with our new nation’s rural roots. Now, for the summit. You will attend, of course.”

“We leave in a month. The summit was delayed to allow the Paramese alliance to return home and rest.”

“Excellent. I will not accompany you for the sake of your own image, but I have instructions and files. Will you be doing anything else while you are here in New Harrak?”

“We only have a month and you are right, everyone is busy, especially with the harvest starting soon. I will focus on training the Kark and practicing new spells. Visit the new villages, maybe.”

“That would be good. As I said, I will need to prepare you for the summit. It would be best if you were not constantly running around picking fights with avatars. At least for a month.”

“You’re saying that like I do it on purpose.”

“It certainly seems to occur with concerning regularity.”

“Hey, I win.”

“...”

“No, seriously. It’s hard work, you know?”

Viv decided, as her next order of business, to take a stroll. A stroll was the only way to gauge the mood of a city according to her dad, though he would visit on market day to do so. From baby kissing to thrown excrement, the reflected range of emotions gave the person in charge a good idea of what citizens thought. Viv left the town hall behind and walked over the clean pavement of Kazar’s main square with Solfis in tow, a group of One Hundred tailing her. Most of the other soldiers were relaxing in preparation for tonight’s banquet, except for the Mountain Sons who’d left to see their families, but the One Hundred prided themselves on being hard asses. The mood seemed festive under the purple leaves of the great tree of Kazar with many revelers and only one hanged body. Viv was hailed and recognized by many people, though most kept their distances. The children seemed disappointed that Arthur had flown off to manage her bank. The first to stop her was a meatball seller who offered her a free wrap. He used her approbation which was kind of fair.

“Wraps approved by the empress! Get your empress-approved wrap here!”

Smart lad.

The next person actually hailed Solfis, something that would have been unthinkable two years before.

“My lord! Did you get new skulls?”

//Yes, thank you for asking.

“Did you get the biggest one?”

//Sadly no.

//It evaporated.

“Aw, better luck next time, my lord. Stay safe!”

//Oh, I will.

Viv turned to the golem who had that fixed glare he had when processing a lot of data.

“I bet you didn’t have people asking about your hobbies back in the day.”

//No.

//Most interactions were closer to

//”Oh gods please don’t kill me.”

//Things of that nature.

“It’s an improvement, isn’t it?”

//New Harrakans have no concept of what a golem is.

//They treat me as a person.

//A considerable improvement, yes.

//It gives me hope for the future.

//When we are more.

“When are we going back to Harrak?”

//I believe next year should be perfect.

//Unless we get embroiled in another war.

//Keep in mind that I will no longer be able to accompany you on long expeditions.

“It’s okay. I think I can take care of myself better now.”

//If you say so.

“Your Majesty!”

A man parted the crowd. Viv’s mind switched to serious mode when she noticed he was dragging a woman behind him, but she calmed down when she realized  the woman was more just embarrassed than actually being pulled along against her will. A shaky hand covered half of her face. It wasn’t nearly enough to hide the mass of blotchy, uneven skin characteristic of a burn scar.

“Your majesty, please.”

“Speak your mind, citizen.”

“It’s my sister. She’s burnt.”

“Erel, please!”

“She doesn’t think you can help her. I told her you also helped people who were, you know…”

Courage and embarrassment warred in his features. He believed he was treading on thin ice.

“Defaced,” Viv finished. “Let me see?”

The woman was now a delicate shade of tulip, with more purple where the scar marred her features. It was a nasty one. Must have hurt a lot. Viv would have to remove the scar tissue but it didn’t look too hard, especially because the other half of the face remained intact. It always made the surgery easier. The woman babbled under her scrutiny.

“Lord Tayne, my old lord he… and his wife, she found out… There was a lantern with pitch.”

There were several scenarios that could fill the gaps of that summary and none of them should have led to defacing a rival.

“Your brother is right. I will set up a time with the temple, before we return to Sinur’s Gate. I am certain you are not the only newcomer who came bearing wounds.”

Viv left the grateful pair behind to enjoy an offering of mushroom skewers. The visit continued. People had requests, demands, observations, not everything was perfect under the sun but that was normal. What mattered was that they were doing better and they were not afraid to talk to Viv. People here led good lives, without fanfare but with smiles and street food shared with their friends and families. That was as good as it got, sometimes. She would take those victories wherever she could.

End of Book 7

Glossary

Places:

Harrak: Capital city of the Harrakan Empire, where Viv first arrived. It perished three hundred years ago in a cataclysm of unknown origin. Currently inhabited by undead. Harrak can refer to the city or the empire. Kazar is the only standing city on its territory, huddling at the south-east border of the Deadlands.

Enoria: The country directly east of Kazar beyond the Deadshield Woods, Enoria was the empire’s oldest colony. They have lost their original language and now use a dialect of Old Harrakan. Enoria has been split in two for several decades after a violent civil war, weakening them considerably. Enoria boasts many forests and the continent’s best archers.

The Kark Steppe: A vast plain north of Enoria and west of the city-states, the Kark steppes are the homeland of the Kark race. The lack of fertile land forces the Kark to follow a nomadic lifestyle.

Baran: The most powerful kingdom on the continent, Baran stands in the middle of Param. They have a well-developed noble class and their powerful military relies on deadly knight orders.

The Wild Lands: Most of the glacial south is a lawless gathering of isolated communities. Travelers often end up eaten by monsters or the colorful local people.

The Northern Cities: A group of independent city-states. They boast the most diverse people and culture. They trade with Vizim and the Shadow Lands beyond the ocean, which guarantees their wealth. Notable polities include Helock, the site of the Academy and a magical powerhouse, as well as Mornyr, City of the Gods and the religious center of the continent.

Halluria: Occupying over a third of the continent’s surface, the Hallurian lands are a collection of hostile environments ranging from deserts to jungles. Hallurian culture is merciless and thoroughly hostile to outsiders.

The Deadshield Woods: A massive forest splitting the continent in half from north to south. It is remarkably easy to get lost in there.

The Deadlands: All of Harrak’s original territory is now an undead-infested cursed wasteland under constant cloud cover. Its very mana is poisonous.

Helock: Capital city of magic on the continent and host to the Academy. Its Academy overlooks the bay.

Mornyr: A city led by the temples. The religious center of the continent.

Races:

There are several sapient races on Param.

Humans: Self-explanatory. Northerners tend to have darker skin, while southerners have paler skin with a green tinge unique to them, meaning Viv often stands out, for better and for worse.

Hadals: Led by Irao, the Hadals are humans with spliced genomes, the result of an Outlander’s experiments. They are considered a different race by many Paramese. They are natural infiltrators. They also dislike crowds, being touched, and being ordered to act as infiltrators.

Yries: Cave and forest dwellers, the Yries have owl-like features, a barrel chest, and long, thin arms they use to climb. They are a peaceful and nature-loving people with a fondness for elaborate machines and stone weaving. For defenses, they favor crossbows. A major Yries tribe has entered an alliance with Viv’s forces.

Kark: Stout, red-skinned humanoids traveling the steppes alongside their trusty mounts, creatures called Pakars. The Kark place a lot of emphasis on honor and tradition. They also like to talk very loudly.

The Merl: A species of beaked, slender humanoid people. They have a smaller stature than humans and prehensile feet. They are a tree-dwelling species and they favor archery. The species was saved from extinction by Prince Sidjin of Glastia and now dwell in the Deadshield woods.

Dragons: They are very sapient and would be terribly upset about being grouped with stupid flightless bipeds.

People:

Kazar:

Farren: The administrative leader of the Temple of Neriad in Kazar. He has helped Viv integrate into local society. He is young and means very well. He has an angelic aspect.

Lorn: The bearded, grizzled leader of Kazar’s Temple Guard. A stoic man, Lorn has strong principles and wields a two-handed sword, which he imbues with mana. A very dangerous fighter.

Brick: An extremely reliable, extremely stupid woman who joined Viv’s personal guard possibly by accident. She underwent the dueling training without complaints which led the rest of the men to believe she was simply unaware she could drop out. Brick will never run unless ordered to do so. The certainty of her conviction designated her as a flag bearer.

Ban: Originally a farmer who was inducted in the Enorian military, Ban suspended his retirement when Viv rose against the tyranny of Prince Lancer. Now he is the Tip of the Spear, the commander of her heavy infantry. He also promised her he would kill her if she ever asked him to commit an atrocity.

Rollo: A gay knight who left Baran to escape persecution, he is the founder of Harrak’s knight order, the Blue Rose. He is a nobleman and a skilled fighter.

Koro: A southern huntress who got lost, she is a happy-go-lucky person who is very open about her feelings and pretty much everything else. She is a bow and spear expert. She also married the city’s head courtesan, Yan. He did not resist.

Varska: Viv’s deceased paramour. She was killed covering the retreat from Kazar.

Irao: The first of the Hadals, Irao brought what was left of his people to Kazar after Viv agreed to it. They live in the forest in an isolated underground base, where they are left alone, which is exactly what they wanted. Hadals occasionally join Viv’s forces on a voluntary basis, where the survivors of decades of persecution show exactly how deadly they are. Irao cares about his people and regrets his days as an assassin.

Lak-Tak: Technically a subject of the Yries and thus not under Viv’s direct command, Lak-Tak is her chief engineer and widely considered a madman who may not hate humans but sure loves killing them. He is known for creating the magical tanks, the fire wasp throwers, and a few other such inventions.

Viv’s Crew:

Viv: Special Forces medic and heiress of a powerful political family, Viv desires to do good. Her body was stolen by Emeric, God of Luck, who sent her back to the world of Nyil in his stead. Viv was born for magic, and she’s been working really hard to learn it ever since she arrived.

Arthur: Actually a female dragon, Arthur was rescued by Viv from a desolate grotto in the middle of the Deadlands, where she was starving. Arthur has developed very fast, abnormally so. She is fiercely loyal to Viv and no one else. Favors flying, gold, and scritches.

Solfis: When the Harrakan Empire died, the strike golem survived. ‘He’ has been waging war on the undead for three hundred years and was saved from core wipe by Viv when she stumbled upon him. He is the result of the work of Irlefen, a genius with crippling social anxiety. The death of Irlefen left him broken. Now inserted into a somewhat-suitable body, Solfis craves to return the empire to its glory days. Solfis is murderous, merciless, and manipulative. He is also unerringly loyal.

Solar: A late arrival to Kazar, Solar serves Viv as an elite blade trainer after she regrew his arm. He refuses to take human lives. Not much else is known about him except for the fact that even Solfis isn’t sure he could beat the man in a duel.

Sidjin: Viv’s paramour, the fallen prince of Glastia is a man who betrayed his city to evacuate and save the last survivors of the Merl species. They have since then bounced back and they worship him as a saint. Sidjin is a tanned handsome man with a thick scar on his cheek and wavy dark hair. He has the build of a runner. He’s also a specialist in colorless mana, making him a versatile caster, though his mastery of area-of-effect spells gave him the nickname of ‘Red Mist’. He invented space magic and portal theory, making him the father of the non-skill-based teleportation spell.

Enoria:

Sangor the Nigh-King: Now Sangor the Actual King since he won the civil war. The new sovereign of Enoria is an unconventionally attractive warrior and commander.

Helock:

Abenezigel: Abe for short. He is a Lich who helped Viv turn part elemental to save her life in return for her aid assassinating Elunath.

Deos: A rotund unscrupulous man, Deos oversees the arena.

Elunath: One of the continent’s only two elemental Archmage, Elunath is an important figure in Helock. He is reputed to be honorable but also cold and merciless.

Lana: One of Archmage Elunath's most talented apprentices, Lana makes the best out of a desperate situation by protecting the other women as she can. She is a short, pale woman who favors blue dresses and is a talented blue mana specialist.

Lim the Fell-Handed: A nasty criminal, talented accountant and all-around scoundrel working for Solfis

General Jar Jaratalassi: A noble northerner, General Jaratalassi usually leads the allied armies of Param against great threats. He is a mage although he never takes the field himself. General Jaratalassi is considered one of the greatest defense experts in history.

Dean Tallit: The current dean of Helock’s Academy, Dean Tallin strives to keep the institution neutral. He tends to be protective of his students.

Ereska: Viv’s roommate at the Academy and also the sister of Viv’s deceased lover, Varska.

Rakan: A young refugee from Halluria alongside his sister, Rakan is Viv’s protégé and one of the world’s most talented mage. He was maimed during the tournament, leaving him with a leaking core that cannot keep mana reserves.

Sen: One of Elunath’s enslaved mages. She is a northerner.

Sonagi: A skillful duelist who betrayed Viv and Sidjin during the tournament. He is the one who maimed Rakan. Viv killed him through mana poisoning as an example.

Map of Param

Afterword

Thanks for reading!

As I mentioned, this story is a web serial, and the conclusions might be less cut and dry than those in other, more traditional stories. If you want to read more, Royal Road hosts this story and many others. I also have a Patreon where the most recent chapters are published.

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If you have questions or comments, feel free to visit our Discord. Look for the Bob channels.

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you next time, if it pleases you.

About the Author

I am a Frenchman living in Shanghai with my wife and son. I started writing because I could not find exactly what I liked in the genres I preferred. Some people enjoyed it, so I kept going, finding that I loved sharing my passion with online readers. A few years passed, and here we are. Now writing is my job, and I consider myself one of the luckiest people on the planet. My hope is to continue to entertain you and make you dream for years to come.

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For all of those, I am fairly approachable so don’t be shy. There is even a channel for typos if you find any!

Other Books by the Author

A Journey of Black and Red

1. A Journey of Black and Red

2. The Eternal Game

3. The Shadows Over Marquette

4. The Midnight Accords

5. Going up in the Underworld

6. Adventurer. Explorer. Vampire.

7. Apex Hunters

8. Thorn and Hunger

9. High Midnight

The Calamitous Bob

1. The Calamitous Bob

2. In Kazar

3. The Death Path

4. Welcome to Harrak

5. Disaster Class

6. Black Mana Gambit

7. The League of Lesser Evil

Changling

A new web serial available on Royal Road and Patreon. Not yet published on Amazon.