7.52 (1/2)

Ryoka, Fierre, and Salamani were over two thirds of their way to Invrisil when the news about the Raskghar caught up to them. Rather—they had to go to the Mage’s Guild and get a letter from Mrsha addressed to Ryoka.

Dear Ryoka—the letter began, because of course, you had to have manners and Mrsha’s mother was a [Princess]—

Dear Ryoka,

Raskghar have left the dungeon. They are prisoners in the city, but Nokha isn’t there. Everyone is worried. Hurry up and come here.

–Mrsha

Of course, that made Ryoka run faster, but she was still a City Runner. She slowed Fierre and Salamani down.

But she was coming. And if you looked or listened—they were drawing together again. Faces seen and never seen at that inn.

Away from Invrisil, Laken Godart was fulfilling a debt to Ryoka. Some of her needs he couldn’t oblige her, but a party? He had gotten a few RSVP’s from nobles that Rie could lean on. The ones who’d attended his gathering during the time of the Goblin raids—had politely refused.

But he had his own concerns which dovetailed with the party. Riverfarm would be ready for Ryoka’s guests.

Some of it was design. Some of it—coincidence. For instance, Ryoka had not told them she was going to Invrisil. Certainly, after the last few encounters she was not kindly disposed to the three Gold-rank adventurers sitting in the wagon headed far more slowly to Invrisil.

It could be as long as a week’s trip. But they were headed back. For a few reasons. Mostly, to see about a famous Dwarf-smith that Dawil thought he could get in with. Also, to meet one of Ylawes’ old friends in the area…

That wasn’t the surprising thing. The surprising thing was that they had company who also knew Ryoka. Two people, in fact.

“So you both know Ryoka Griffin?”

“Well, I can’t say as I have personally known her, Lord Ylawes. More like an encounter one time.”

Termin tipped his hat as he ordered the two mules to stop flirting and keep going. He chuckled.

“Crazy, meeting a Gold-rank team who just met her. She doing well? She was rescuing this team from these evil frogs…”

“Wailer Frogs?”

“The very ones. Actually, I owe her a bit of a debt. Leveled up from that encounter, so I did. But how’d you meet with her, sir?”

The [Wagon Driver] nodded, much pleased. He turned to the last rider on the wagon—well, Termin was doing a bit of a passenger shuttle so people kept getting on and off, riding with the goods. But the ones bound for Invrisil, his last stop numbered four in total.

The recalcitrant young man looked up.

“We stayed at the same inn. I’m just moving cities to earn more money. Reizmelt’s dried up.”

“Fist fighting. You know, I’d have given you a shot if you hadn’t laid out that huge fellow. Must have been three hundred pounds. You should have tried it, Ylawes.”

“It wouldn’t have been fair. Without my armor…and with it, certainly not.”

The [Knight] demurred. Falene rolled her eyes. She objected to the trivial pursuits both her companions were on. Wistram called to her. But—she’d heard some Wistram [Mages] were in the inn, so she had her own reasons for going too.

But that was the thing about travel. The Silver Swords were moving slowly, able to run off and slay some monsters before catching up with the wagon. Ryoka and the other two were moving for Invrisil as fast as they could. Yet they would be too late. Had been too late, for the Raskghar.

Not that they had been needed. The attack had been a non-attack. But the problem with things you didn’t kill was that they remained.

—-

Erin Solstice had been intending to end her day with a bracing game of chess. Perhaps even a few games of cards with Numbtongue who had developed something of an addiction to it. Or perhaps an addiction to gambling.

Instead, she rose before dawn after a sleepless night. She had slept—in that way where you forgot you’d rested because you’d kept waking up and falling back into uneasy slumber.

As a girl, Erin would sometimes watch a horror movie or see some creepy picture and have nights like that on Earth. That had been one thing, with only the phantoms of her mind for company.

Knowing there were actually things out there had meant that Erin got probably two entire hours of sleep out of the eight she had been ‘sleeping’.

Only her Skills had given her enough rest to function. And even then—Erin looked around the [Garden of Sanctuary].

Little sleeping forms. Numerous bedrolls—and a bed. Erin passed a hand over her weary face. Dozens of figures, actually.

Silently, she checked the two objects she’d been sleeping with. Not next to her—so there was no risk of rolling into them, but close enough to be grabbed in a moment.

A knife—a frying pan, and closer than that impromptu bar-weapon—a glowing, green jar. Erin examined it in the faint light before the dawn. She was careful not to touch the edge of the knife as she unsheathed it. Normally, she didn’t even use it for cooking.

As for the jar—Erin looked it over, making sure the seal was tight, and not corroded. She ignored the pan. Pans were pans. Erin put the knife on her belt, stretching. Then she remembered—

Potions. Erin checked her belt. Two healing potions, one Tripvine…no, that was in the bag of holding. She sighed as she put the pan inside the magical bag.

Erin checked the jar of acid one last time for cracks or flaws in the glass. Honestly, she wasn’t happy even carrying it in a bag of holding. If it broke—you had less than ten seconds before whatever the acid did probably wouldn’t ever heal.

But as weapons went—Erin carefully placed it in her bag of holding and stood up. She stretched again as she looked around her garden.

She knew how many people were in and out of it. Two had left—Numbtongue, which was fine, and Palt. Both okay. Even so, Erin checked the numbers within, expanding her…senses. Her aura? Checking her garden for intruders.

Surely she would have noticed. But Erin did it anyways because she felt uneasy.

Mrsha and Lyonette, check. Pawn, snoozing in an Antinium-huddle with the Workers and six Soldiers—check. The Soldiers were clearly awake—they were staring at Erin.

Little snoring buzzes coming from Ekirra’s nose for all he’d been so nervous Saliss had given Erin a drop of sleepy-stuff to put in a cup of blue juice for him. He slept with his parents and other Gnoll families who’d asked…

Visma, curled up with her parents, holding onto one of the Mrsha-toys. The silver ball Numbtongue had made. Better make sure she didn’t try to keep it…

Bird wasn’t here. He’d refused to leave his tower, claiming, accurately, that he didn’t need to sleep and that the inn was far more secure with him there. He was still up there.

Kevin, Rose, Joseph, Imani, Troy, Leon, Galina…check. Erin ran down the few others in the [Garden of Sanctuary]. And those in the inn.

Few had wanted to sleep in the rooms when Erin had offered the garden for the night. Even people from the city had approached her when they’d heard Erin talking about it. After all—it was probably the safest place in all of Liscor and Erin wasn’t making that up.

The people who’d refused were Bezale and Montressa, who’d put up wards on their rooms, and the Players of Liscor—half had wanted to be with their families or slept in Invrisil given their ongoing thing.

The other half were here with said families or friends, snoring away. They were using bedding from the inn, turned into bedrolls; it was Lyonette who had arranged for a bed to be imported here for herself and Mrsha, and set up a small space for them.

She was holding Mrsha tight and Erin didn’t wake either. The [Innkeeper] exhaled as she finished her check.

“Nothing happen when I was out? Yellow Splatters?”

She turned and the [Sergeant] paused. He had walked up on her from behind.

“No, Erin Solstice. No reports from Liscor, either. I have checked every twenty minutes with Purple Smiles, who is deployed there, along with Belgrade.”

He spoke. An Antinium with a voice that made Kilkran remark that he’d fear for his job if Yellow Splatters were anything but Antinium. Erin looked at the Soldier and had a flash of another Antinium.

“We are here to protect you.”

Would she ever forget any of the other moments like these? Perhaps not. They all flashed across Erin’s mind. Some more pressing than the others.

For instance, the Painted Antinium were here in force. Erin had two squads in the [Garden], and she knew that forty were in the inn, hiding in the basement, resting, patrolling—each one a Painted Soldier or Worker-Archers and thus superior to even normal Antinium.

The night Skinner attacked would not repeat itself. The Raskghar’s raids would not repeat themselves.

“We live and learn.”

“Yes.”

Yellow Splatters watched her. Erin looked around. That was the thing about surviving stuff. You tended to not want it to happen again. Zevara had requested six hundred Antinium Soldiers to patrol every inch of the city and hold the walls. And no one was complaining about that.

Not today. The [Innkeeper] walked towards the door. Yellow Splatters followed.

“What are you doing, Erin Solstice?”

He was formal and not at the same time. He did not call her ‘Miss Solstice’ these days. Which Erin liked. But he did use her full name. Erin turned as she walked towards a door waiting for her along the walls.

“Someone needs to make breakfast. And since the staff are all here or on vacation…”

“It may be dangerous.”

The [Sergeant] moved to block her. Undeterred, Erin walked left—the door was in front of her again.

“If there’s a monster in the inn, it’s both invisible and it can evade my [Innkeeper]-senses, Yellow Splatters. My innsense. No…that sounds horrible. Have you had anything to eat?”

Yellow Splatters hesitated. He seemed so large, despite not being that much bigger than regular Soldiers. But Erin was so familiar…

“The Antinium have brought field-rations.”

The look of horror on Erin’s face made it quite clear that she knew exactly what Antinium rations looked like. She pushed open the door, shaking her head—

Every Antinium in the common room stood up as Erin stepped through the door right outside her kitchen. A dozen bows raised and lowered instantly. Soldiers prepared their fists—and stopped.

The young woman reacted with the same speed; she lowered the knife and jar.

“It’s just me, guys. Erin.”

The Antinium looked at her as she waved. As if they needed clarification on that last bit. Erin sighed as her heart decided it was time for a sudden sprint in the morning.

“Everyone’s on edge. Hey, Pink Stripes? Nice to see you.”

Erin made finger-guns at a Soldier standing closest to her. He copied the gesture with all four hands, slowly.

Outgunned, Erin looked around. She caught sight of herself in the large scrying mirror. Fortified inn, armed Erin, Antinium ready for a fight.

What if this had been the Erin who arrived in this world way back when? Almost a good thing she hadn’t—the Goblins who’d attacked her and the Rock Crab wouldn’t have survived those meetings. Erin walked into the kitchen and stared at a Worker with a bow sitting next to it.

“Archer C2, get that out of your mouth. I’ll get breakfast. Anyone want food? You know what? I’ll just…”

The Worker slowly spat out the bit of Antinium rations—the bar of—the congealed and dried substance that—

The…semi-solid matter that was slightly crumbly, but was lightweight, kept for over a month, and which even rodents wouldn’t eat. Erin still had to worry about pests, even with her [Field of Preservation]. The Children of the Grain Sack had taught her that, so she did arm her traps.

She’d tried using the Antinium’s field rations until she realized nothing would eat it, not even bugs.

A bee buzzed out of the doorway, saw the room full of predators, and immediately buzzed into the kitchen. Erin, yawning, was grabbing all the pre-mades. Not Imani’s more elegant dishes, but the old standards she made.

Pizza, big pots of soup you could warm up…damn.

“They can’t eat these pizzas. Where’re Garry’s special pizzas with his dough? Let’s see…oho!”

The ‘oho’ was because Imani had labeled everything. One of the things Erin had never done.

‘Antinium-safe foods’ was a pantry with a lot of space in it. So much so that Erin had food for all the Antinium just from it alone. She began heating things up. Meanwhile, Apista crawled around.

The bee wasn’t hungry, per se. Since the Garden had an ample supply of all the plants she could want and she had a small supply of emergency-honey she was adding to.

However, she was a bit—jazzed. She could take the edge off. Mrsha and Lyonette had been worried, and the air, to the bee, was a bit tense. Apista cast about and then flew out of a window Erin cracked open to let some fresh air in and the smoke from the fires out.

“Hm. Hm…okay. Hey guys! Food! Come and get it. Help yourselves.”

Erin put Soldier-safe bowls and the first pot of soup out after a few minutes. Antinium clustered around. Assured by Erin that the bread was Garry’s and thus safe, they lathered it up with butter and dipped it into the rich—and buggy—soup.

Funny thing about Antinium. The ones like Yellow Splatters had no problem doing anything. But Erin took the extra minute because she knew Antinium to make a few pick up the butter knife.

“Put butter on the bread. It’s optional, but you’re allowed to do it, see? All of you, have one buttered slice. That’s an order.”

She phrased it like that because if you gave an Antinium a loaf of bread and something optional, they wouldn’t ever do the optional bit. Like condiments—you had to teach them it was alright to use up a stick of butter. It was…them thinking a bit of ketchup was worth more than they were.

Just a small thing. But you had to do it in Erin’s mind. So one of the things Ishkr taught [Servers] was to add condiments to an Antinium table’s order so they’d eat it. Don’t give them the jar of ketchup! And yes—it was a jar. Erin hadn’t developed squeeze-technology yet, at least in a way she was happy about.

“Greedy Drakes now, they’ll take the jar with them. Especially the food-thieves. Don’t see them around.”

Erin shot a glance around the inn, as if checking for the spies who liked to frequent her inn. To her surprise…she realized the inn had a few people loitering outside.

Busybodies? Erin would attend to food first. Food made the world better. Speaking of which—

She looked around for her mother before she bit into a lukewarm piece of pizza. Just—because her mother would have had something to say about that for breakfast. An odd thing, to think of her mother. Erin really didn’t…so the pizza bite’s swallow was a bit hard for reasons other than consistency.

Mom now…her mom didn’t understand the joys of cold pizza over a morning game of chess. Whether that was in the morning or night didn’t matter mom! She wasn’t gaining weight!

Erin prodded at her stomach just in case. Decent, decent. Lasica could always make her famous weight-loss menu.

“The joys of a magical world. Hey, can you all help me bring the food out? No—you can finish your breakfast first—”

A dozen Soldiers walked into the kitchen. Erin sighed, but directed them with the goods into the common room. And then, after a moment’s thought, she had them roll one of the round tables into the garden and set up there.

That proved to be a good move because people were waking up—or hadn’t slept—and few looked like they wanted to leave. Erin let them handle the food, like Ekirra’s mother, who thanked Erin profusely until the [Innkeeper] shushed them both. Little Ekirra was still sleeping.

Bird needed his food so Erin brought it up to him on a plate.

“Hey Bird…”

He didn’t draw his bow at her. Probably because he knew she was coming. Bird sat in his tower.

“Hello, Erin. Is that food for me?”

She smiled at him. Bird was as calm as could be.

“Yes, Bird. I have some of that g—Saltbird you loved so much. And eggs.”

“Oho. A bird breakfast! This is good. Thank you, Erin.”

But Bird didn’t touch the food. Erin saw him looking around.

“What is it, Bird?”

Normally he’d descend on the food. The Worker sighed.

“My hands are full. I must remain at full-vigilance and I cannot eat just yet. I will eat when the sun comes up.”

“…But you have four arms.”

Bird nodded.

“And they are all full, see? I cannot load and fire with only two arms with any efficiency, Erin.”

He had two arrows in his spare hands, his bow in one hand, and another hand on the arrow nocked and ready to go. Erin knew how fast he could loose—he’d taken 1st place in an indoor archery range one time and really ruined the old champion’s day.

“Maybe you could eat with one hand, Bird?”

“But that would decrease my firing time by point…”

“Bird. Maybe it’s safe to be slightly less optimal?”

He considered this.

“What if you fed me?”

Erin passed him the plate. Bird put one arrow down and sighed.

“I will eat. But if we all die because there was an inefficiency in my fire speed, I will be slightly upset!”

“Okay, Bird. You go sleep when everyone’s up, okay?”

“Yes, Erin.”

—-

It amazed others how calm Erin was. The Raskghar were in Liscor. The killers who had eaten hearts of Gnolls, who grew smarter with each full moon and the two moons were both still pretty full!

And yet—she had done this. It was not that Erin was untroubled. But she was ready. Breakfast done, Erin leaned against a wall and decided—

“Interloper-people. Maybe I should grab one of the crossbows.”

She thought she knew who they were, but they were on the edge of her inn’s ‘radius’ of detection and there was enough reason to be suspicious. Erin looked around for a crossbow. Numbtongue had hidden two dozen around the inn.

“Right here. No. right…here? No?”

…And she realized she hadn’t any idea where his secret compartments were. He kept showing her and she kept glazing over the details. Erin peered at a chair leg. She eyed a loose floorboard—no? One of the Antinium stopped to stare at Erin climbing onto a table to inspect one of the beams in the ceiling.

“Anyone seen a crossbow hiding around here?”

She was just giving up on the crossbow thing. It wasn’t as if she was that great a shot compared to her aim with an acid jar, anyways. Then, Erin heard an angry voice outside.

“Get back here! Get back h—”

A bee flew out of the kitchen, carrying a trail of smoke. Erin and the Antinium stared as Apista buzzed back into the [Garden of Sanctuary].

Carrying a full cigar. She had purloined it from the owner, who clip-clopped into the room a moment after her.

“You damned pest! That’s my—”

The drug-carrying bee disappeared into the Garden as Palt stopped. He saw Erin and coughed into a fist.

“Oh, hey, Erin..”

“Did you get that bee hooked on…?”

Erin stared at Apista and then at the Centaur. He raised his hands defensively.

“No! Probably not? I’m amazed it likes my cigars. But since it doesn’t pay—er, hi, Erin. Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm. Thanks for help with those [Calm] and [Soothe] spells.”

The Centaur’s face softened.

“My pleasure. How’s Imani?”

“Still asleep.”

The two stood together. Palt produced a cigar—a long, thin one this time. Bright orange. He lit a finger—and hesitated. He looked sidelong at Erin and she waved a hand.

“Go for it. Today’s a rough day, anyways. I could almost use one.”

She flicked the cigar he proffered her away.

“Almost.”

The [Illusionist] gratefully lit up. After a few puffs—the smoke flowed into a small ball over his head—he spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

“Good thought you had with the [Garden of Sanctuary]. Ingenious, really.”

“Mm. It’s obvious. All my smart ideas are.”

Sleep in the Garden. Really—it just made sense. Palt shrugged.

“I didn’t think of it and no one else did. You know, I looked it up. Er—I was doing a bit of digging. With my faction…just out of necessity, you know…”

“Go on.”

Erin gave him a look as she decided she had room for like—half a pizza slice or something nice. One of the boiled eggs with pepper, maybe. Palt exhaled more smoke.

“It’s an Inheritance Skill. And since you probably don’t know—it’s a Skill that only one or a few people get at a time. There’s another famous carrier in Izril—well, I can name four total worldwide including you, now. Lots more in secret, perhaps.”

“What, the [Garden of Sanctuary]?”

Erin blinked. But she remembered what the Grand Mage had told her. An [Empress] had first owned this Skill. Palt nodded.

“It is—or was—a secluded place for those of royal classes. Occasionally others. A [Healer], an actual [Gardener]…you’re using it um, differently.”

“How so?”

The Centaur gestured at the door.

“They used it as a refuge. Not as somewhere where you’d let someone sleep. Mind you—it’s secure. The most secure place I could name. You could—well, build a room in there, couldn’t you? Live there. Unable to be harmed except by someone of exceptional levels. I know some people who’d pay you a thousand gold a month for that.”

Erin nodded absently. Then she looked at the [Garden of Sanctuary] and shook her head.

“But it can’t support everyone in there right now. It’s too small. And if the inn goes, so does it. Also…”

“Also?”

He prompted her after a moment. Erin looked into the Garden, where more people were waking up, then up at Palt.

“It’s a great safe-room. Even if it wasn’t designed like that. I don’t use most things like how they’re designed.”

She nodded at the magical door. Palt chuckled.

“True. But why not build a house in there or something?”

“Because the inn’s supposed to be a home. If I need to stay in the [Garden of Sanctuary], something’s gone wrong.”

She looked up at him seriously. Palt nodded after another long pull.

“At least it’s comforting to people now.”

“Yeah. Any word from Liscor?”

“I could check. But I just went outside to smoke. Numbtongue’s practicing with his sword.”

The [Innkeeper] glanced towards a window. The Hobgoblin had been on a hill blooming with flowers when Palt saw him.

“He’s fine. I think he’s just mad he didn’t get to cut any of the Raskghar. He feels guilty.”

“Not his fault. He can’t be here forever.”

The [Illusionist] was pragmatic. Palt trotted over to the bowls of soup, saw the floating acid-flies, and trotted back.

“Besides, Saliss of Lights handled the situation better than anyone else could’ve.”

Erin ducked her head. That was true too. He wasn’t here today—but she vividly remembered the [Alchemist] in the moments after the attack had ended.

Saliss had been posing with Ekirra and Mrsha while wearing the ‘privacy box’ in the garden. Comically. He’d reassured everyone that the Raskghar were dead, let everyone else run around and investigate—and played up the silliness for the frightened children.

He’d also killed over thirty Raskghar in less than a minute. Erin had seen the bodies—or what remained.

“And here I thought my acid jars were dangerous. Does he harvest acid too?”

“Maybe. But he probably buys and enhances it. There’s a reason why he’s called the most dangerous Named Adventurer for five minutes. Dead gods and hoof rot, I’d hate to be on his bad side. He’d do your curry trick with Isceil…only with acid.”

Palt wore the same expression Erin had had while thinking about her mother for a moment. Erin nodded. Saliss was capable of protecting anyone he wanted.

Protection, safety, it wasn’t the real issue today, was it? Everyone was vigilant but the Raskghar were detained! In jail! They were safe, and this was just worrying.

Because Nokha hadn’t been with them. Erin bit her lip. But would Nokha dare attack this inn? Palt could probably take her in a fight if he saw her coming.

Yet, it was the things you didn’t see coming. That went bump in the night if they were clumsy. The things you couldn’t predict. Erin was less experienced with that. Most of her fights had been fast, to the death, and immediate.

This was messy. Raskghar prisoners. Potential enemies skulking about. Erin shook her head.

“And why are they here? I had my suspicions and Numbtongue was…Palt? Can you walk out with me one sec?”

“Something wrong?”

The Centaur stopped smoking. He looked quizzically at Erin. She glanced towards a point on the far wall with nothing special in particular about. But she had that look that said she wasn’t looking at the wall.

“I don’t think so. At least, not with the Antinium around. Just in case.”

That didn’t reassure the [Illusionist]. He began muttering spell buffs and casting them on himself. He wasn’t Isceil, who’d been able to decimate an area with a single breath, or Montressa who could throw up barrier spells or Bezale—well, he was closest to Bezale and Ulinde. But he could cast a lot of enchantments on himself if he had prep time.

Even so, he was support. And he reminded Erin of that. She just shrugged.

“It’s probably fine. It’s not strangers.”

“And if it’s trouble?”

“Acid jar.”

“Ah…and if they block or dodge that?”

“You’ve gotta take modest risks, Palt.”

“I do. Gambling. Not with anything that might hurt so much as a hair on my body. Er—where are we going?”

Erin Solstice stopped outside. She stood in the grass, looking over Liscor. A summer day was beginning. The sun had yet to appear past the peaks in the High Passes but the air was fresh, the day as yet cool. The Flood Plains looked fairly lovely.

They were alone on the hill outside of The Wandering Inn. The city’s walls were fully-staffed and mage-lights were illuminating the ground outside of the city. Palt heard a distant call, identifying both of them.

High alert in short. The kind of thing that made him feel safe. Erin stared ahead. No one was in the outhouses. Numbtongue was by himself on that hill.

“This Raskghar thing’s scary.”

“Um. Yes, it is. But I have calming tonics and spells if you want—”

Erin glanced at Palt and he fell silent. She went on.

“It’s so dangerous. I’m so glad I’m being protected. By Antinium. And Numbtongue. And you, Palt.”

“Well, I—”

He fell silent again and stopped preening. Erin had given him another look. This time—Palt began glancing around with his magic, keeping his eyes on the city’s walls.

[Detect Magic]. Nothing but the walls…Erin’s inn was lit up and the door was blinding.

[Detect Heat]. Hm. Palt ran hotter than Erin, but nothing…was that a colony of rats just over there? Erin wouldn’t be happy about that. But nothing…

“I mean, I love the protection. Not that I, personally need it. You sort of wonder why everyone likes to protect me. Since the Raskghar attacked Liscor. And why now? It’d sure be great…if I had protection when the Wyverns attacked, y’know? But there are reasons. Still…I like knowing who’s protecting me, and why.”

The Centaur said nothing.

[Scrying: Palt Fenrisol]. Fun fact? Erin Solstice was invisible to [Appraisal] and [Scrying] spells these days, thanks to the ring Saliss had given her and…something else. Even the Elusive Lot had problems and they could scry past Palt’s defenses. But he saw nothing.

“Sure is a thing. Yup, yup. Ayup. Yuppers. Yeperoonie. Yep…”

The [Illusionist] heard a sigh.

“I think, comrades, that we’ve been made.”

A Gnoll, Drake, and five Human men rose out of the grass a foot in front of Palt. He freaked out.

“Burn my tail! [Haste]! [Shadow Leap]! Run for—”

He grabbed at Erin. She hadn’t been expecting that. Palt tried to turn and gallop into the inn as his spell snatched at him. But he tripped.

Erin and Palt flickered out of the air and crashed out of the doorway in a heap. Erin went whubpgh as Palt landed half on her.

Wilovan, Ratici, and the five Brothers of Serendipitous Meetings adjusted their hats and stared as Erin lay on the ground and Palt’s hooves waved frantically before he got up. The Gnoll tipped his hat to Erin after she’d stopped being squished.

“—Pardon about that, Miss Solstice. It seems we might’ve been a bit too conspicuous, as it were, and Ratici here misjudged how long your ear is.”

“What level is that Skill?”

The Drake groused. The other Brothers looked amused as they adjusted vests and straightened caps. Erin stared up at Wilovan as he held out a paw. The other Drake, the one with the cap, helped her up.

“Seems we have a bit to talk about, Miss Erin.”

“Yeah.”

Erin wheezed. She would have felt more triumphant if Palt hadn’t landed on her. That guy was heavy.

—-

Something was wrong in the world. Twenty minutes later, Erin Solstice was sitting in the inn across from the Gentlemen Callers.

Few people were in the inn. Temile had checked in from Invrisil and the door was currently ferrying people from Pallass to Liscor—but the inn wasn’t open.

Most of the people were in the [Garden of Sanctuary] and not coming out. They had their entertainment.

Joseph had a football, but he’d been told by Lyonette that if he so much as kicked it into a single one of the fragile Sage’s Grass plants she’d bury him headfirst. So the others were sitting, talking—but mostly, helping with planting some of the seeds or cuttings that Lyonette and Erin had been meaning to get to.

Weeding the jungle biome in the [Garden of Sanctuary] and arguing about what was a weed in the thick foliage. Ekirra and Visma were trying to get Mrsha to help them make a ladder to grab a ripe cocoa pod.

All was well—on the surface. But Erin felt the tension. Still—that wasn’t what was wrong with the world.

What was wrong was that the good fellows had turned their backs until she put her shirt back on. And Bezale was smacking Palt hard as Montressa checked Erin’s midsection.

“Any more pain?”

“No. I think it’s good.”

Erin had cracked a rib when Palt fell on her. Two, actually. Which—to be fair, wasn’t exactly surprising when a horse fell on you.

“I am so sorry…”

“It’s fine. Healing potion’s already working.”

Cracked ribs weren’t as bad as broken bones. But Erin would have loved for Pisces to be here. She’d survived Skinner with…okay, maybe it wasn’t as fair. But Wyvern attacks? Crelers? And this was how she went out?

“Death by horse.”

“I said, I’m sorry.”

Palt was beet-red. He might have been a skilled [Illusionist], but he didn’t exactly have the most nimble build.

Erin eyed the Gentlemen Callers. They had refused to look until she put her clothing on. Not that she’d even exposed more than navel and said ribs. She knew beachgoers who were far more scantily clad than she had been.

But they were—The Gentlemen Callers. And the five Human men whom had introduced themselves to Erin and were politely helping themselves to a non-Antinium spread of food?

The Brothers of Serendipitous Meetings. And they were…criminals.

What astonished Erin was that they came out and said it. Twenty minutes was all it took. Five minutes really; patching Erin up had taken longer, mainly just to find a female pair of hands to administer the potion properly.

“So you guys are a gang?”

The Gentlemen Callers looked at each other. Wilovan, the burly Gnoll with the nearly-top hat and Ratici, the capped Drake who was short and slender. They glanced past Erin.

“It’s a delicate subject, Miss Erin. I’d hate to insist, but—”

One look was all it took. Palt grabbed Montressa and Bezale.

“Why don’t we stand over here, you two?”

Erin blinked. She saw the Centaur shuffle them off and mouth something at her which she completely missed. And it was something because Erin was certain none of the three [Mages] were listening in magically. Beza made a gesture to Montressa and Palt began shaking his head like Mrsha after a rainstorm.

“The Gentlemen Callers are two big Faces, Erin. That’s like—a ruler of the underworld. You don’t make them your enemies. They’re part of the Brothers of Serendipitous Meetings. They’re a smaller gang, but they’re elite. Erin—these guys are big players in northern Izril. I have no idea why they’re here! Even one of the Elusive Lot would have trouble getting them to move, let alone send the Callers here!”

That had been Palt’s whispered explanation when he’d put three and three together. It had confused Erin, but Ratici had made it clearer.

“We’re criminals, Miss Solstice. Call us a gang—call us [Rogues] if you like. We prefer to be called upstanding sorts—but only by comparison. We were hired to look out for you.”

That was easier to understand. Wilovan tipped his hat as Erin turned back from the [Mages].

“To be more precise, in the interest of honesty, Miss Erin, Ratici here is the finest [Thief] you’d ever lay eyes on, which is an indictment, of course, in his line of work as it were. And I’m a humble [Thug]. A fellow with a club who taps folks and absconds with coin. Dishonest men that we are, you can see why we’d hesitate to introduce ourselves before now.”

Erin had noticed this before, but the way they talked and even acted had roots in her country’s past. Not entirely one-to-one, but the Gentlemen Callers had a style about them.

But they were criminals. Honestly, the first Erin had really met. There was Pisces…and Lyonette, and the thugs and Grev. But these two were actual professionals compared to the amateurs.

“A [Thug] and a [Thief]. So you two are jerks who beat people up and then steal everything they own?”

She expected them to bridle at that, but the two just smiled. Wilovan touched a furry hand to his cap in a kind of salute.

“High-level, so a bit more than that, but we did start there. And I regret to say there was a time I roughed up any sort, Miss Solstice. But we’re part of the Brothers of Serendipitous Meetings, and we follow a…code. If we prey on those with coin—it isn’t those down on their luck. Never children, never decent sorts.”

“Ah.”

They were Robin Hoods of this world. But when Erin made the comparison without the name, the two chuckled.

“Hardly, hardly, Miss Solstice. We don’t ‘give to the poor’ save by way of spending large at a favorite restaurant or such. We’re simply honestly dishonest folk in that we pick our targets with more care than say—another gang.”

“And…why do you have a code of conduct at all? Are you honorable guys?”

Erin saw Wilovan blink slowly at her. He had that unflappable refusal to get angry or riled that Erin had seen in, well, only a few people.

“If there’s an [Honorable Thief], it isn’t one Ratici and I would bump elbows with, Miss Erin. Say rather we do what we do with the modicum of integrity we have—simply to live with ourselves.”

They were honest about their dishonesty. Erin sat back.

“So why are you here? Someone hired you two to protect me? Who?”

The two exchanged a glance.

“A client.”

“Who?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential, Miss Solstice. You may have noticed us around—we accepted the contract just a bit ago.”

Erin had noticed them for a while. She scowled.

“But who? Ilvriss? See here—you can’t just sit in my inn and, er—guard me.”

The duo sighed even as Erin realized she hadn’t phrased that quite right. Wilovan looked at Ratici. The [Thief] glared at Erin.

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you hadn’t picked us up, Miss. You must be over Level 40. I could sleep cheek-to-jowl with that Level 30 Drake [Innkeeper] in his bed and he’d never notice me.”

“Peslas? Ew. Why would you want to?”

Wilovan’s lips quirked. He nodded at the Brothers.

“My friend Ratici is free to entertain himself as he will on his time off, Miss Erin. Not that he’s generally so rude. But the fact remains—we wished to be unnoticed guests, but it seems our client was rather perspicacious as it were.”

Erin really wished Pisces were here. Even Ratici’s lips moved.

“What’s that then, Wilovan? Wait. I think I know. Perspi…sweaty?”

“Not at all, Ratici. Fine word. Read it in a book with a lovely woman just the other month. It means a discerning fellow. One with a lot of insight.”

“Ah.”

The two had the same rhythm as Relc and Klbkch. Perhaps that was why Erin smiled despite wanting to be mad. The problem was—she had met these two and been amused by their colorful interplay before. They seemed friendly. And Numbtongue liked them.

Even so. They were [Thief] and [Thug]. Erin narrowed her eyes as she had a thought.

“Hold on. How long have you two been protecting me? I remember you being here for a while. What else have you two done?”

They eyed each other. Erin folded her arms. Wilovan coughed into a paw.

“Is this necessary, Miss Solstice?”

“It sure is if you want to stay here another second! I’m not having strange criminals under my roof!”

Ratici gave Erin a long look.

“As opposed to known criminals?”

“I know a jerk who sniffs a lot. He tried to rob me once. That’s—that’s not the point! I’m in charge here! Well?”

The two sighed. Wilovan snapped his fingers.

“Ah. There was that nastiness with that Bearclaw personality. One of the small-timers from down south. Messed about your friend. Terrible thing, that. Apologies, but we weren’t able to stop that.”

Relc. Erin’s stomach tightened up.

“You let it happen?”

“He seemed like a good sort to defend himself. Mind you—we were already taking liberties if you don’t mind me saying so. Our client’s orders don’t pertain to anyone but you, Miss Solstice. But we ah, had to adjust our criteria. A few unscrupulous sorts were going to kidnap the little Gnoll child. We persuaded them not to.”

Erin did remember that Bearclaw’s gang had been found unconscious. She hadn’t delved into it, with Relc being beaten up and his apartment burned by the Golden Triangle mob. She looked at Wilovan.

“You two did that?”

They winked as one.

“The Brothers don’t stand for kidnapping or anything that’d hurt a child. Cute little girl. Could use some pants, but then, we were all young once.”

Erin sat back. She had no idea! And she wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been obvious. She hadn’t even sensed Ratici and Wilovan except that the other five Brothers had made them noticeable.

“So you were in my inn to…”

“Chase off any of the rough fellows who came calling yesterday. Since that fine Named Adventurer isn’t here, we thought a bit of emergency help wouldn’t be amiss. Mind you—we’d have let the Antinium take the first swings. No offense, but we’re not here to risk our lives.”

But they were here to help. And who had hired them? Erin had a list of…well, she could imagine Ilvriss, maybe Magnolia or…

There were a few others. Erin narrowed her eyes.

“How long are you two going to guard me for? Can you tell me who hired you?”

“That would be a secret on both counts, Miss Solstice. We’re already compromised—we should remit some of the fee to the client, Ratici.”

“Damn. Pardon my language, Miss Solstice. Won’t happen again.”

The Drake looked embarrassed. Erin sighed.

“…Call me Erin.”

The young woman smiled a bit. Then Erin narrowed her eyes again as she had a sudden realization.

“Hold up. Invrisil. The mob…you two were there as well! You protected me!”

“And this is why we don’t take these sorts of jobs, no matter how good the pay is, Wilovan.”

The Drake leaned over and muttered. Wilovan whispered back.

“You’re being quite rude, Ratici. I hate to remind you in front of Miss Erin like this.”

“Terribly sorry, Miss. It’s been a fraught day.”

They both tipped their hats again.

Double damn. She was beginning to like them. Erin folded her arms.

“So you two won’t tell me who’s hiring you. But you did say you’re under orders to protect me?”

The two winced. Erin rubbed her hands together.

“So if I punched a Rock Crab…”

“I’d be amazed anyone would risk that, bodyguards or not. We can’t be everywhere and we don’t work miracles, Miss Solstice. Quite the opposite. And until now we thought your inn was safe at night.”

Erin’s face fell.

“So did I.”

Reality was Raskghar and this messy situation. Honestly, the Gentlemen Callers were the bright spot in Erin’s day. She looked at the Brothers.

“So those guys are like underlings?”

“Lower-ranking members. Decent sorts. Inherently trustworthy with anything but money, Miss. They’d rob you blind if you weren’t under protection, but make sure you got home in one piece. Can’t say that’s fair, but it’s how we work. Wave at the [Innkeeper], lads!”

All five instantly stopped having pizza and gave Erin a tip of the hat instead. She looked at Ratici. Now what was she going to do with them?

As happenstance would have it, Erin never got to answer that question. Because—the Gentlemen Callers were not actually applicable to her problems. They could have stopped the Raskghar cold. Would have—if Saliss hadn’t been there. Erin sensed that. They were two of the most high-level guests she had, right up there with Grimalkin. Not like Saliss, who was at the top or Grand Mage Eldavin, but…

But the problem was different. Erin heard a howl from the [Garden of Sanctuary]. She was out of her seat in a second.

Ratici beat her to the door. The fellow smacked into the open doorway and bounced off. Wilovan stepped back and held the door to let Erin through. He’d taken in the scene in a moment.

The children, of which there were eleven, were in the Garden, all crying. Some louder than others. Erin saw Mrsha standing with Ekirra. Visma was lying on the ground, howling as she held the silver ball. Her dress was muddy—Mrsha had pushed her along the pond-area’s banks.

“What’s going on here?”

Apparently, there had been a squabble. Visma had refused to give the ball back after breakfast when Mrsha wanted to play, and Mrsha, usually caring and generous with her gifts, had demanded it back. She’d pushed Visma, the Drake girl had begun crying, and so had everyone else.

Erin felt like crying, a bit, as she saw Mrsha’s tear-stained face and snotty nose. The little Gnoll toddled over to her on two legs and hugged at Erin’s leg.

She was shaking. It wasn’t the fight that had started the crying. Erin bent down as the adults rushed over.

“Here, here. It’s okay, Mrsha. It’s going to be okay. I’m sure Visma forgives you. See? She’s alright. You just have to say sorry. You’re Mrsha the Big and Brave, aren’t you? It’s alright…”

Mrsha sniffed as Lyonette halted. She looked at Visma, and then buried her face in Erin’s shirt. She was still trembling.

“What’s wrong, Mrsha? Everyone’s okay, see?”

The Gnoll shook her head. She looked up and her trembling paws formed one word. A biting claw descending on a heart made out of her paws.

Raskghar.

Erin stopped for a second. Of course. They hadn’t gone away. They were in Liscor. They had bypassed the walls, invaded the heart of the city. Who cared if a few metal bars stood in their way? They were there.

No wonder she was terrified. Gently, Erin held Mrsha. Lyonette reached out, but Erin held Mrsha for a moment. Hugging her tight.

“Don’t worry, Mrsha. You’re safe here. No one’s ever going to hurt you, I promise.”

A lie that Erin knew she couldn’t keep. But that was how you were supposed to lie to children. Especially your children. And Mrsha—if only she could believe that. Erin held her and looked to the open door, around at the frightened faces.

“It’s going to be alright. Okay? It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

She transferred Mrsha to Lyonette after the crying slowed and a few minutes had passed. Then Erin walked slowly towards the door.

“Handkerchief, Miss Erin?”

Wilovan handed it to Erin for her wet front. She blinked at it and shook her head. Then she checked her waist.

“You two…if you’re here to protect me, we can talk about it later. I have somewhere to be.”

Slowly, she walked past the Gentlemen Callers. They exchanged a glance as Erin walked into the city. Her knife was at her side. It weighed so little. But it was sharper than last time. Erin had prepared her inn, herself for this kind of day.

Never again. She walked into the city as the real troubles began.

—-

Evil sat in Liscor. Monsters. Things from the dungeon and the ancient past. If those in Erin Solstice’s inn had little sleep—at least they had the [Garden of Sanctuary].

Those living in the city, let alone close to the prison had even less. To be fair—some hadn’t bothered to even try.

It would be wrong to call the group of mostly-Gnolls and some Drakes ‘demonstrators’. Demonstrators implied they had something to demonstrate and were at least vocal about the subject.

This crowd was quiet. And armed. They said little. But if the line of [Guards] around the prison’s entrance were to open—Watch Captain Zevara was certain that the prisoners would be dead within five minutes.

“Prisoners.”

She repeated the word so it lodged in her own head. That was how she had to think of them. Inmates, prisoners…as the law prescribed them. She could hear what other people were saying just fine, thank you very much.

Monsters. The Gnoll’s forsaken ancestors from ages past. Nightmares which deserved neither mercy nor pity.

But they had surrendered. So—treat them like prisoners of war? Criminals each with a part in aiding and abetting murder at the very least?

The Watch Captain wished tea was stronger. Or stamina potions lasted longer. She stood in her office.

“We have the cells for them. Barely. We have to fit multiple to a cell, even in cases where the solitary confinement won’t do. Also—the issue is that we can’t use some of the older cells. On advice, I’ve moved Raskghar only to cells we’re sure can hold them since none can use Skills.”

“On whose advice, Watch Captain?”

The Council was listening. And unlike previous Liscors, this Council seemed prepared to act. Unfortunately—Zevara was at a loss to tell them what she thought should be done.

Not kill all the Raskghar was a good step. But sentencing? Containment? There was going to be trouble soon with the Gnolls who wanted vengeance and everyone knew it.

But the Council had two problems today. The guests from Hectval had arrived unannounced. Getting them situated had been easier with the Raskghar situation, but they’d still been all ruffled scales until they were placed at the Tailless Thief. Not her problem, anyways.

Zevara stood straight and looked past Lism’s shoulder as she always did when she had news that she didn’t want to actually convey. They were all here, including Jeiss, who was in the position of having to be a superior to his boss. There should probably have been a law against that or something.

“…the advice comes from prisoner Calruz of Hammerad, Councilmember Lism.”

“Watch Captain! That Minotaur is responsible for—”

“He is the only known expert in the world on their capabilities, sir. It was my decision to stand by his advice, which only goes as far as whether the Raskghar could bend the steel bars of their cells. Which they could on some of the iron ones. Sir. I take full responsibility for the decision.”

Lism’s outraged mouth clicked shut.

“Is the Minotaur still under confinement?”

“Yessir. In the magical cell.”

But he was not the issue. Or rather…it was a good thing the cell was there. As the old saying went, not to protect Calruz from the Raskghar. Quite the opposite.

—-

The [Guards] in the jail proper watched as the Minotaur and the Raskghar sat in a staring contest. Neither side moved or blinked. Calruz’s eyes were burning.

“Let me out.”

“Can’t do that, Minotaur.”

Drakes and Humans in the City Watch here only, by the Watch Captain’s orders. One of the Humans looked wary—but he had no bones in the matter, having been hired two months ago. The Drakes eyed the Raskghar with a lot more wariness than Calruz.

“Let me out. And I’ll put an end to my dishonor myself. You won’t have to guard either of us.”

Two hundred sick Raskghar versus a one-armed Minotaur? But then…if you’d seen Calruz fighting, you might wonder…

Even so, none of the [Guards] moved. And it was a strange thing. Beyond strange. But look what time and relativity did.

Here was the Minotaur responsible for so much death. And here were the Raskghar who were arguably just as responsible. But one had been prisoner for months. He was repentant—the same Minotaur who’d charged into the inn full of Crelers and routinely cleared monster nests with a rusted axe, hauled heavy stones all day…

The [Guards] did not like Calruz. But they weren’t the Gnolls who hated him and never got assigned to prison duty. He was familiar to them. And what’s more—an [Honorbound Prisoner]. They had [Appraisal] artifacts and Skills. They could read.

Compare that to the Raskghar. More…bestial than Gnolls. Larger, more primitive, some called them. Certainly with smaller head relative to body size, a more…

Earth Humans would have compared it to their version of Neanderthals versus Humans of their era. The Raskghar were coughing, weakened despite treatment—

But they snarled and sniffed the air and snapped at each other in their own language. The Watch was far warier of them than Calruz.

“Minotaur. You sure the bars can hold?”

One of the Drakes broke the silence to eye the Raskghar standing too close to one of the cell’s fronts. A [Guard] moved them back with a shout and a prod of the spear’s butt.

“They can bend iron. Not steel. I’m sure that one couldn’t. Tell that Human to stop that.”

“Why?”

“They’re too fast. They’ll grab the spear and yank her through the bars.”

The [Guardswoman] stopped. The others looked at Calruz. One of the Drakes coughed.

“You mean…into the bars?”

“No.”

The Watch slowly moved back from the cells. Calruz looked at the overcrowded prison.

“Hypothetically…if they were able to break the cells…”

The Drake glanced at Calruz. The Minotaur’s eyes flickered.

“I’d have explosive and Tripvine type weapons ready to throw. No one walks next to the cells armed with those. They can hear you—don’t go near for any reason unless you make them manacle themselves. Don’t give them anything to throw. I’d put [Archers] behind a magical barricade there. If they come out—abandon the cells. Throw potions and spells in and cast a cloud spell until we’re all dead.”

The Drake glanced at the silent Raskghar. They had heard that. He looked at the others.

Oh, how things changed. Slowly, he nodded.

“Move back. One patrol moves across the prison if need be; no more. Get the reinforced manacles; set of eight. Tell the Watch Captain we’re fortifying the entrance. I want fifteen potions from our armory with a blast-factor and…”

That was something. The Minotaur’s status was changed. But the proof of his failures lay in front of him. The whispering was starting again. He closed his eyes.

Never again. [Death Before Dishonor]. He clung to it.

—-

“…Someone’s got to entertain them! Despite this—this crisis.”

“We can decide the Raskghar issue now, Lism! Just call for a [Headsman] or let the Gnolls do it ourselves!”

Krshia snarled. Lism nearly—nearly snapped back.

But it was not a time for rage, but quick thinking. And since Krshia was the one beyond reason for once—he remained calm. Strange, how that worked when Lism was almost always ready to yell first.

But it was seeing her so furious and—worried—that made Lism hold up his claws placatingly.

“Watch Captain Zevara has them under lock and key.”

“For how long? There is only one way to deal with Raskghar.”

That came from Elirr. The Gnoll was hunched over in his seat, looking—well, ragged. Lism and everyone else in the Council’s room eyed him with concern. Even Tismel and Zalaiss.

“Elirr, you really needn’t be here. You could rest—”

Alonna began, but the [Beast Trainer]’s haunted gaze silenced that train of thought. And Lism understood that too, he really did.

Elirr—nearly eaten alive by those damn things, sacrificed and forced to live in a cage? The Drake shifted nervously.

“True. The issue of what to do with the Raskghar—we certainly have few options. However, killing all of them sounds a bit…”

Well, rational if you listened to the stories. Lism wasn’t in disfavor himself. But the objector in the room also happened to be Watch Captain Zevara. She folded her arms.

“That is an entire people, Councilman.”

“They are Raskghar. Not people!”

The Drake’s face didn’t move. Lism tapped a claw on the table.

“Watch Captain, this is not the Minotaur situation all over again. We have no doubt that the Raskghar killed Gnolls—that their—their basic nature revolves around the murder of Gnolls.”

“Yessir. However—that’s painting all of them with the same brush. Sir.”

Lism’s tail unhappily struck the carpets. He leaned forwards as Krshia made an inarticulate sound.

“They fed on our people in the darkness when we were hiding! They are monsters and if they are not slain—”

“What do you propose, then, Watch Captain? Do you suggest that we don’t hold the Raskghar accountable for their crimes? Hold them indefinitely in a prison which—you have intimated—isn’t large or sure enough for them?”

The Council fell silent once more. Jeiss was watching Zevara nervously. Her eyes flicked to him.

“Give me time, Councilmembers. I can expand the jail. And I certainly don’t intend to hold the Raskghar to anything less than another criminal. But I will not have people—Gnolls—march in there and execute them before they have a chance to be tried—”

“Tried—”

“—and duly sentenced under the law. Which is me!”

Zevara slammed a fist down and Krshia blinked. The Council fell silent as Zevara straightened and took a deep breath.

“My first duty is to the security of Liscor, Councilmembers. And as Watch Captain, I need to make sure no other Raskghar are coming from the dungeon! If this Nokha lives—I want to find her. With respect, the issue of the Raskghar can wait until the threat of the Raskghar is dealt with.”

Lism looked around. No one was happy with that, but Zevara had reminded them that she was Watch Captain. Unless they wanted to remove her, she didn’t have to be here, especially in a crisis.

“See to the security of the prison, Watch Captain. We’ll discuss the matter.”

The female Drake saluted and marched out of the room. An unpleasant silence fell afterwards.

“They have to die.”

Lism heard one of the Gnolls mutter that, but when he turned his head he couldn’t tell which one. Krshia was practically shaking in her chair—her paws gripped the table so hard he feared she’d crack the wood.

Elirr was just sitting. Alonna and Jeiss were whispering about security—and that was half of their problems.

“…Councilmembers? The delegation from Hectval is breakfasting. They’re wondering if—”

Liscor’s Council looked at the nervous [Clerk] who’d come to deliver the message. The Drake froze on the spot. Lism rose and placed his claws on the table.

“Thank you, Miss. We’ll attend to it.”

“Why now? First they delay arriving, then they don’t send word—”

Alonna muttered. Krshia snarled.

“This is not the time for it!”

No, it was not. However—this was the first Drake city besides Pallass to make contact with Liscor and Lism knew that Hectval was part of a larger alliance. More importantly, all the Drake cities would be watching this meeting.

“We have to deal with them. I don’t know why they’re here. But I suggest—”

“Lism. This Raskghar issue is larger than them!”

Krshia looked infuriated, as if Lism was placing the Hectval group over the rest. That was a Silverfang thing that had always annoyed Lism. She had priorities. If there was a large issue, you dropped everything and dealt with that. Lism on the other hand had projects. He was working on the [Carers] situation, expanding Liscor—

On the other hand, that single-mindedness had lost him several trade deals when she capitalized on things he didn’t. And it was a useful asset in the Council. If you worked with her right.

The Council’s heads moved to Lism as he raised a claw.

“I’m not suggesting we table the Raskghar issue, Silverf—Krshia. As I understand it, we have two pressing dilemmas. The delegation from Hectval cannot wait. But the Raskghar have to be monitored, the city calmed. I propose we split the Council. Councilmembers who wish to deal with the Raskghar—Jeiss, I think you’re one, Elirr…”

The Gnoll nodded shortly. Lism sighed.

“I’ll head the Hectval issue. Alonna? Tismel and Zalaiss too, I suppose. Councilmembers Krshia and Raekea, your preference. But we need to move quick! We’re supposed to have a reception. Entertainment!”

Krshia’s fur, which had been standing on end, began to lower. That was an interesting Gnoll-trait. She looked at Lism as the Council rose to their feet. Jeiss gave him a quick nod.

“Good thinking. I’m no good at diplomacy anyways. One thought: we could use our [Negotiators]…”

“All three are with the delegation right now.”

They should have had a lot more. And a staff—an entire group dedicated to events like this, not the Council! But how long had it been since formal diplomacy had been conducted? Not with the Human cities, with other Drakes!

The Blood Fields had cut off trade for a long time—the winter and late fall allowed it of course, but it was only [Merchants], seldom other people in any large numbers.

“I’ll go on-duty then, talk to people, make sure the cells are holding and see what the Watch Captain’s plan is. Anyone with me?”

Raekea and Elirr followed Jeiss. Krshia was about to, but then strode over to Lism, Alonna, Tismel, and Zalaiss as they conferred.

“…need to stall them. Tell Peslas to feast them and when they’re done, do a walking tour of the city? Yes, just a basic around-the-walls. Let them stare at the Floodplains for a bit. Find someone who knows Liscor’s history and give them a talk about the founding! And, Ancestors, keep them away from that Human and her inn! I’ll try and see what—Krshia? What is it?”

The Gnoll saw Tismel and Zalaiss head off with Alonna to buy Lism time. She stopped, breathing heavily. And they were alone for a second.

“You can handle the Raskghar. I’ll deal with the delegation.”

“If I trusted you to do it yourself—”

But her heart wasn’t in the insult. Lism patted Krshia on the shoulder. They both stared at Lism’s patting arm until he dropped it.

“Ahem. Well, I wouldn’t mind some help.”

“To get you started? You have no idea what to do about the delegation, no?”

Lism opened his mouth—and closed it.

“Er…entertain them? I was going to have Tismel rustle up some of his old [Councilmembers] for a get-together…something convivial.”

But he was a [Shopkeeper]. His idea of entertainment wasn’t some fancy party. Krshia’s face told Lism he was making a mistake.

“We need to consult someone who knows Hectval—or at least, other cities. Their arrival was very strange, yes?”

“Remarkably. Who doesn’t send ahead they’re coming? But who’d know about Hectval? One of the [Merchants]? I could go ask, but I don’t want to waste time.”

The Gnoll nodded. Her eyes flicked to the window.

“I know who to ask. Follow me.”

She led him at a quick trot out of City Hall. Lism followed. Krshia was fast when she wanted to be. Damn Gnolls who were used to running about.

Krshia. Krshia Silverfang. It was still odd to not have that as an epithet on his tongue. But then—there were good qualities to the Gnoll. Lism had always known that. He just hadn’t ever felt like giving her credit for them. Until recently. But he could make a list if he had to.

Quality #4 on the list Lism did not have in his head was that Krshia Silverfang…knew people. Lism knew people, but there was a definite disconnect in how they operated. Krshia had clients who let her be their middlewoman, shop for them. She made friends. Lism? He had business associates.

“Who’re we going to meet?”

“Wing Commander Embria.”

“Why her? The last thing we need is the army mucking about and—”

Love the army, support them and all that. But they weren’t exactly the first people you went to for diplomacy. 4th Company had a record of clashing with the Watch and assuming their authority trumped a Senior Guardsman’s. Krshia rolled her eyes as she looked back at him.

“Lism, you fool, you. The army has worked for Drake cities more than anyone else in Liscor! Wing Commander Embria, she and the other officers negotiate with the leaders of Drake cities! I heard as much over tea!”

Oh. Then Lism frowned.

“You’ve had tea with Wing Commander Embria?”

“Mm. Only four times, but I made a point to do so, especially when I became Councilwoman. Good to know the army’s representative, yes?”

“Yes…but who has time for four tea sessions?”

“Who doesn’t?”

—-

Wing Commander Embria had her company sweeping around Liscor and inside of it. The [Soldiers] were on high-alert; they were also monitoring for [Invisibility] spells, Skills—even though the Raskghar didn’t have them. For once, Lism was glad to have experienced warriors to supplement the Watch.

Mind you—even if the Raskghar were five times larger than the ones in the cells, you couldn’t walk down a street without seeing a group of armed Gnoll civilians, most carrying bows, a patrol of the Watch, an Antinium squad, or one of 4th Company’s groups. It made Lism feel a bit better.

However, this was not what he wanted Hectval’s delegation to see. Wing Commander Embria blinked as the two found her.

“The Hectval delegation? Me?”

“That’s right, Wing Commander. We’d value your input. In private? We won’t detract you from your duties long. But this is an important moment diplomatically for Liscor.”

Lism and Krshia expected Embria to object, but after a moment’s thoughtful silence, she nodded.

“Of course, Councilmembers.”

They headed to City Hall at a fast march. Lism was panting when he arrived and he was the only one. Embria turned once they had closed the door.

“I forget that Liscor isn’t…in touch with a lot of Drake cities, Councilmembers. But you deal with Pallass.”

No, they talk down to us and we argue until they try to force whatever they want down our throats.

But Lism didn’t say that. He cleared his throat.

“The Hectval situation is…new to us. Our [Negotiators] and some of the Council are hard at work, but we’d appreciate some clarity here, Wing Commander. They accepted our invitation and were due to show up nearly a week ago—then they appear without warning?”

Also, the delegates had been very standoffish. Not shaking hands—of course, Lism had hurried them to the Tailless Thief in all the chaos, but he’d definitely gotten an odd vibe from them. Almost—challenging.

Embria hesitated. Her eyes flicked from Krshia to Lism in a way that said she had thoughts—but she was reluctant to say them. Like a customer asking themselves if they really needed an embellishing ornament on their scabbard.

“Councilmembers. As Wing Commander, of course I would be delighted to assist Liscor in any way I can. Naturally…as Wing Commander…but as advice goes, or input, I, uh, might clarify my remarks differently as Embria.”

Lism and Krshia frowned. Embria scratched at her chin awkwardly.

“Of course, I can give my best input. As Wing Commander—”

“We would accept comments ah, unofficially, Embria.”

Krshia grinned, catching on. Embria sighed and relaxed. She took off her helmet, as if doing that and losing her militarily-straight posture made her not Wing Commander all of a sudden.

“Okay. Look. It’s not something I can say er, as Wing Commander. Badmouthing another city could land me in hot water in the army.”

“But we’re just asking you for advice, Wing Commander.”

Embria looked uncomfortable and Krshia nudged Lism. Not the point right now. The flame-scaled Drake scratched at her neck-spines.

“Politics, sir. More than one Wing Commander’s lost their jobs because they make the wrong comment while we’re working for a client. This is off-the-record. But what Hectval’s doing is sort of a classic among Drake cities. They show up unannounced, don’t respond to your invitations on time—and then complain you’re the ones responsible for poor hospitality. And if you rise to the bait, they’ll shout about it to every Drake city in range. I don’t know why, but they’ve decided they want to make Liscor look bad. You need to win them over or turn the tables on them.”

Lism and Krshia looked at each other. Lism dug at one earhole with a claw.

“…Say what now?”

—-

Intercity politics in Drake lands was another world. Feuds, alliances—the Drake city-states were each a law unto their own, with different customs, rules, and so on. Each one was like a little nation and you made friends and enemies to stay afloat.

Of course, Lism had known this. That was like any city, really. But Drakes took it to another extreme, according to Embria.

“Hectval is part of the Three Cities Alliance. Hectval-Drisshia-Luldem.”

She actually remembered the names? Embria shrugged.

“We have to. It’s our neighbors and they can cause trouble—mind you, they’d never be as rude if the army was in two hundred miles of their city. They’re known for…crossbows, strong bows and arrow fletching. Hilly terrain—makes fighting their [Archer] battalions a right pain in the—”

She broke off tactfully. Lism stared at her.

“Fight them? Dead gods, we’re entertaining them, Wing Commander!”

“Sorry, sir. Liscor’s army has fought almost every city in Izril at one point or another. We take notes. I’m not the best for diplomacy, but Liscor’s army has to negotiate with clients and keep abreast of the weather.”

“So Hectval’s holding a grudge?”

“Or they think you’ve slighted them somehow. It could be anything. Maybe they want to pressure Liscor into helping them. You have to ask—and mend bridges if it’s a slight. But er, tactfully.”

A word as foreign to Embria as it was to Lism. Krshia was already eying him with great concern. He could be tactful! Lism bridled a bit.

“It’s just such an odd way of going about it.”

“It’s politics, sir. Liscor’s been isolated for a long time from Izril proper due to the Bloodfields. Personally, it might just be that they don’t like the idea of Liscor.”

“Don’t like the…that’s it?”

The Wing Commander looked more astonished than Lism. She eyed him right back.

“We’re Drakes, Councilmember. The last time I was with the army before heading to Liscor—we were around Oteslia, taking work in a Walled Cities conflict because the Serpentine Matriarch of Zeres insulted the First Gardener for refusing to attend her birthday.”

Krshia stared at Lism. He wanted to protest that he hadn’t been responsible for that. It sounded crazy to him as well. Mind you—how hard was it to attend a birthday if that was the result?

He pulled himself together.

“We are Drakes, Wing Commander. If they want hospitality, we won’t give them an inch to complain about. Some good, Liscorian traditions to strengthen long-lost ties between cities and we can sort things out.”

Embria had a dubious look in her eye. She bit her lip.

“…Might be harder than that, sir. As I said, that’s the Scalespeaker—the one with the golden belt you need to impress and he’s a staunch traditionalist. I’d have to ask Wikir or someone who’s up-to-date with records.”

They had records on individual’s personalities? Dead gods, they needed to hire more [Negotiators]. Lism tried to recall that Drake.

“Ah, their leader?”

“No…I think they have a Council. Scalespeaker is like—the diplomatic version of a Watch Captain. We don’t have one, but they’d be the top [Diplomat]. Again, off-the-record, but I’d keep Antinium out of sight. Er, Erin Solstice too.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice, Wing Commander. We’ll make it good, old-fashioned—”

“Try really old-fashioned, sir? The Scalespeaker’s a traditionalist and a liberalist city like Liscor is already—”

“Liberal?”

Lism’s jaw dropped. Now he was convinced Embria was lying to his face. Liscor? She saw his genuine confusion and coughed into a claw. Was she…was she covering a smile?

“You have Antinium in the city and trade with Humans, Councilmembers. Most Drakes don’t see Humans unless they visit a big city. Or enlist. You’re as bad as Zeres to Hectval. Maybe even Oteslia or Pallass.”

The Drake [Shopkeeper] had to sit down for a moment. Liscor? Liberal? His entire life, he’d fought to keep Liscor’s traditions and they were…

Krshia was fighting not to laugh her stupid tail off. Too quick to laugh, that was Krshia Silverfang. It was not at all endearing.

“We’ll—see what we can do. Any general tips, Wing Commander? Putting on a parade or anything grand is difficult with the Raskghar situation—ah, and I’ll let Councilwoman Krshia go with you to oversee that.”

Embria saluted, and chewed at her lip.

“…I’m not an expert on Hectval, but a show of generosity in the face of their attitude is probably the best bet. Gifts of Liscor’s trade goods, something impressive—if you do it well enough, they’ll have to reciprocate even if they hate your guts. It’s another power-move, but it has to be done well.”

Great. And how was he supposed to do that? Lism sighed. He straightened and nodded at Krshia.

“Thank you, Wing Commander. Krshia, go deal with the Raskghar.”

“Are you certain, Lism?”

“Of course I am. You—you’ll be fretting over them and getting in my way. I’ll handle this.”

He looked as confident as possible. Krshia relaxed. She smiled at him as Embria turned to go. Lism waved surreptitiously—

And then sagged when the two were gone. Uh oh. But he’d volunteered for this and it was time to impress Hectval. Impress them. Impress—

What would Silverfang do? She’d…why, she’d do something Gnollish. Put out some silkap and tea, and charm them. But that wasn’t the move here. Lism would offer around a snack platter over some of the decent wine if they were his friends. No, no…he didn’t have the right mindset. He needed…

Lism looked around. And then he hurried off, as one did, to consult with the person he went to for advice. Krshia had a network.

The proud uncle had his nephew.

—-

Olesm Swifttail was interrogating one of the Raskghar. Safely. The Raskghar was in one of the individual, temporary cells in the Watch House’s barracks. And everyone was keeping their distance.

Magical plague. The Raskghar had been hit with it and it had killed them. Typhenous had probably slain more Raskghar than any other adventurer with a few spells. Olesm had studied plague spells and they were nasty.

However—also easy to deal with in some situations if you had the right spells. [Dispel Magic] erased a magical plague spell in most cases. The trick was having enough spells and mana for an entire infected regiment and catching it before it got that far.

Normally, the ailments caused by magic lasted as long as the magic did. It was worse on [Mages] of course, unless their natural skills let them fight magical effects. Half-Elf armies were bad targets for plague spells…

What else had his course in Manus taught him? Ah—that the real danger was that a magical plague effectively compromised your health so that you’d get sick with regular diseases.

As was the case here. The Raskghar hadn’t known what the magical plague was. And it had infected them multiple times over. Even with the magical cure now—the Raskghar was coughing, ill.

“Good magic. Make better. Surrender.”

She kept saying that. As if someone had been teaching her the words. Olesm folded his arms.

“Who told you to surrender? You are under truth spell. Answer—or we will know.”

And do what, torture you? Kill you? Zevara wouldn’t stand for it. But Olesm still felt as though someone was creeping up with a dagger.

The Raskghar needed no threats, anyways. She looked at him with dim wariness in her eyes. The effects of the moons were fading. She was the most intelligent of the un-Awakened lot; half had already lost the ability to speak in coherent words.

“Nokha.”

Everyone in the room shivered. A dozen [Guards] were ready to attack this single Raskghar if she tried anything. But there she sat.

“Where. Is. Nokha?”

The female Raskghar shook her head.

“Nokha leave. Many moons ago. Take…strong. With…her.”

She growled something unintelligible. But the truth stone Olesm was consulting—all three of them—glowed. Even the most advanced one just said that the Raskghar was uncertain, but truthful.

Damn. The [Strategist] consulted his notes.

“Let’s see. Nokha was sick with the others. You were attacked by—undead. Adventurers. Antinium. And more and more Raskghar were dying. Then she decided to leave, and told you to come up when both moons were full to surrender. She told you to surrender and that we’d make you better.”

“Yes.”

Olesm threw his clipboard down. The Raskghar watched.

“Good slaves. Mercy.”

“Mercy? We should execute them now, along with the Minotaur, [Strategist]!”

One of the Drakes hissed. Olesm itched to say ‘yes’, but he held up one claw.

“That’s not your decision, Guardsman. Watch Captain Zevara is handling the situation. We want to know more. Where did Nokha go? Did she say anything?”

The Raskghar growled.

“Hungry.”

“You can eat if you tell us what we want to know. What did Nokha take?”

“Sword. Magic. Food?”

The Drake’s fist clenched.

What made him so angry was how confident this Raskghar was. How they all were. They didn’t fight, they just answered questions and expected to be cured. To be fed and protected from the angry Gnolls. Because that was the law and Nokha had figured out how to take advantage of it.

He wanted to toss them all in a pit with Shield Spiders until they told him—

“You’re losing control. Calm.”

Something cool touched Olesm’s head. A hand—and a gentle, blue flame.

Olesm blinked.

Maviola El held the flame out and the room grew calmer. Angry [Guards] stopped fingering their weapons. Her flame was blue, like the open sea, tinted a bit with green.

Calm fire. Not like Erin’s. But Maviola wasn’t Erin and her fire was different. She stood there, regarding the Raskghar.

The creature was more nervous of her than Olesm. Maviola walked forwards until she was at the bars.

“Maviola—”

She ignored Olesm’s warning. Maviola squatted down.

“Good slaves. Mercy. Nokha told you that you’d be safe here. We’d turn you into slaves, but you’d be saved and cured, didn’t she?”

The Raskghar didn’t respond. She was staring at the calm flame in Maviola’s palm. It winked out. Maviola snapped her fingers and a second flame danced across her fingers. It was red.

“But you don’t want to be slaves, do you? You just want to be cured. And Nokha was wrong. We’re not going to feed you. We just want to know where she is. If you don’t tell us—you’ll die. We don’t care if you live or not.”

Olesm felt a surge of annoyance at Maviola. This was his interrogation! He opened his mouth—and caught himself.

The red flame was fury. The Raskghar growled.

“Won’t kill us.”

“We won’t kill you? You stupid thing. You don’t matter. You’re not going to be a good slave, are you? You want to eat Gnolls. But that won’t happen. We’ll pluck your teeth out.”

“Won’t.”

The Raskghar bared her teeth; some had fallen out from her disease. She drew herself up. Maviola perched on her heels.

“Oh, really? Someone get me some pliers and rope. You made a mistake, you stupid Raskghar. Did you think we’d make you slaves without—”

The Raskghar leapt, but Maviola was already jumping back. The huge female Raskghar slammed into the cell’s bars. The gate shook, but the room was full of shouting [Guards] and the Raskghar froze as arrows were aimed at her head.

The magical fire winked out. Maviola stood up, dusting her hands.

“There you have it, Olesm. You were right. They are preying on your morality. If they think they’re in danger, I have no doubt they’ll try something.”

The Raskghar realized she’d been tricked, manipulated, and shrank back.

“Mercy?”

Someone spat at her. The Raskghar growled, but didn’t do anything. She feared Maviola more than Olesm. The blue-scaled Drake nodded at Maviola, the last vestiges of the emotions the flame had created in him going out.

“Thank you. But you shouldn’t have gotten so close.”

She winked and whispered.

“I had to give her an opening. Anyways, someone’s got to give you a hand. Just showing you a few tricks.”

She was so much different than she had been a week ago. More…active. Maviola wouldn’t have done that before. This Maviola was more willing to take risks.

And Olesm now had proof to give to Zevara that keeping the Raskghar around was not a safe move. As soon as they recovered he was sure they’d try to escape.

“Take her back to prison but put her in a separate cell. Let’s bring another Raskghar in and confirm the information. Then I’ll talk to Zevara…”

The Drake heard a familiar voice and sighed.

“Nephew! Nephew—a moment!”

“Uncle—”

Lism hurried into the Watch House looking for Olesm. Maviola trailed after the [Strategist] as the Watch ordered the Raskghar to put on the manacles and she complied, sullenly asking for food.

“Uncle—Councilmember Lism—this really isn’t a good time. I’m interrogating the Raskghar—”

“And I’ll leave you to it, Nephew. But I have a situation. The delegation from Hectval is here and we need to blow them away with a Tier 4 spell. A celebration! Something to really establish our diplomacy. At least something to break the ice!”

The Drake stared at his uncle.

“Delegation? Uncle, this is not the time for—”

A finger flicked one of his neck-spines and he winced. Maviola laughed, eyes dancing, and bowed as Lism and Olesm turned to her.

“Hello, venerable uncle Lism! I’m keeping your nephew company.”

“Ah. Miss Maviola.”

Lism eyed her. He didn’t like Maviola—well, he had a thing about Humans. And some Gnolls…although Olesm hadn’t heard him grousing about Krshia of late. And this wasn’t the time for that!

“Uncle, I’m sure the delegation is important, but this—ow, Maviola!”

She’d flicked his neck-spines again. The [Lady] shook her head playfully.

“Olesm, you’re a good [Tactician], and I love you for it, but you have yet to be a [Strategist]. Diplomacy matters! What’s this about the delegation?”

Lism hesitated, but then explained in brief the problem. Olesm rubbed at his forehead.

“Oh dead gods, inter-city politics. I know all about that. Just don’t offend them, Uncle. It might be a small setback, but we can have a substandard get-together and patch it up later. Just don’t let Erin get near them. Or the Antinium! Or…Ancestors. Maybe just lock them in the Tailless Thief until they get mad and leave?”

But Lism was wringing his claws.

“Nephew, this is the first Drake city to make contact with Liscor in ages!”

“Pallass was first, Uncle. And we’ve been in contact with Esthelm, Celum, Invrisil—”

“That’s not the same! This is a city like us. Come now, I know you can think of something!”

Olesm tried, he really did. But the Raskghar was too big.

“Er…have the Players of Liscor put on a show and turn the entire City Hall into a large festive area? We have large enough rooms. Make the entrance lobby up—give them some gifts like trophies from the dungeon, get some of Erin’s food—”

“No, no, no! You want to impress them, don’t you? Make them feel indebted?”

Maviola interrupted Olesm. She clapped her hands together, looking excited.

“Leave it to me.”

The two Drakes looked at her.

“Maviola, you’re not even a Drake.”

The [Lady Firestarter] winked at Olesm’s dubious expression.

“But I am a [Lady] and I know how to impress fellow nobles. I can help! Just give me the authority to use some gold, and one hour. Olesm’s right—we’ll turn City Hall into a grand reception.”

“Really? Er—Olesm, your Human friend…”

Lism tried to draw Olesm away, but Maviola just leaned into both of them and put her hands on their shoulders. The Drakes looked at her and she smiled impishly.

“I think she knows more than us, Uncle.”

“Very well. What do I do, then?”

“Get as many of the old Council and important Drakes as you can. No one under Guildmaster status. Tekshia Shivertail, definitely. Dress up—in whatever traditional Drake clothing you can. You get the gifts, too. And some good wine! Olesm, I’ll handle this! Keep dealing with the Raskghar!”

Then Maviola was gone. She was laughing as she ran from the Watch House. Having the time of her life. Lism eyed Olesm.

“Not that I mind your, er, choices, Nephew. And it’s not my decision, it’s yours—”

“Uncle, I like her. And it’s…”

Olesm bit off the word he was going to say. Temporary. Oh, Ancestors. But Lism just patted Olesm solemnly on the shoulder.

“She seems…nice. Quite spirited. Good to have someone like that in your life. I’ll er, get ready for the delegation. You continue keeping us safe.”

He hurried off. Olesm opened and closed his mouth. Who had replaced his uncle? He shook his head.

—-

The trust Lism put in Maviola El was surprising. And not. She was…not Erin Solstice. But sometimes you looked at her, especially if you knew who she was.

Erin Solstice would not have been the right choice for delegates from a touchy Drake city. But Maviola El? She understood diplomacy, politics.

And it was easy. Drakes, Humans—she had a simple three-step plan to throwing a proper reception.

Maviola raced into The Wandering Inn. She could have cartwheeled, despite the Raskghar, despite the mood of the city.

She was alive! She had felt young before, of course, rejoiced in regaining her body, her mobility and energy. But this? This felt like the moments after she had first taken the Potion of Youth, spurning Belavierr and riding off. She felt like she was bursting with energy. This was true youth that Saliss had given her. Blessed, beautiful.

She wanted to live forever like this.

“Lyonette! Octavia! I need you, quick, quick! And you, Palt, and Imani! There’s money to be made and people to impress! And I need one of the Players! And—”

And the inn was empty! Almost deserted. The Antinium stared at Maviola as she whirled.

“Where is everyone?”

In the Garden, of course. Lyonette stared at Maviola as she cuddled a still red-eyed Mrsha.

“Maviola? What’s wrong? Is it the—”

Mrsha looked up fearfully with the others. Maviola saw the anxious faces and smiled.

“Nothing’s wrong. Have heart! And help me out. I need to entertain some fussy Drakes from Hectval. Cheer up, little Mrsha. No one will harm you. See? Hey, Goblin! Catch!”

Her eyes blazed. And so did the fire she conjured. Maviola raised her hand and threw a ball of burning yellow-white. It landed in Numbtongue’s hands and he nearly dropped it.

But the fire was yellow, a pure thing like a dandelion, or the sun on a bright day. And it burned him not at all, but the fuel was him. He grinned—and the fire of happiness, a tiny thing but born of Maviola’s soul, burned a bit larger.

It warmed the Garden. Magic, a Skill. Those within it looked up—and the fire reflected itself in them. It gave to them and then took their energy.

“No one will harm you. Not in this garden! Not in this inn! Haven’t you seen worse? Haven’t you defeated worse?”

Maviola challenged them all. The people raised their heads. And they remembered.

Face-Eater Moths. Skinner! The siege of Liscor. Take heart. If the enemy camps outside your gates, be wary. But don’t despair. Not after all you’ve been through.

Lyonette blinked at the yellow fire. It was—like Erin’s flames, but Maviola conjured them more rapidly. Because it was her Skill. And she had experience and time, so much time to master her Skill compared to Erin.

Mrsha smiled and relaxed. And the [Princess] hugged her.

“Oh, so you believe a bit of fire more than me? How dare you, you silly little bean!”

The Gnoll giggled. Bean? She squirmed out of Lyonette’s grip to go apologize to Visma.

The [Lady] exhaled as Lyonette walked over.

“If you say I’m ‘like Erin’, I’ll have to slap you. Olesm says it all the time. I was here first. Erin copies me.”

“Erin’s not like you.”

The [Princess] remarked, her eyes on Maviola. She couldn’t have missed how Maviola had changed. But both Maviola, young and old were unlike Erin. Erin was concerned and had gone into the city.

Maviola ignored the shadows. She looked around and saw a Stitchgirl waking up at last after having been passed out well into the morning.

“Wuzzat? Did someone want me?”

Octavia yawned, and then was seized by Maviola. The [Lady] looked at her.

“I need some of your ingredients. Can you unlock your alchemy shop for me? I’ll pay you back. 12% over the market value!”

The [Alchemist] blinked. She had no idea what was going on, but the first words out of her mouth were—

“18%. And I want a receipt.”