Book 8: Chapter 36: H_The Wandering Inn

Book 8: Chapter 36: H

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 When all was said and done, she was there.

 When the [Wyrmpact King] excused himself from the throne room to find out what had happened, he saw her standing there, facing the Duke.

 When the [Royal Bodyguards], [Generals], [Strategists], and [Knights] dared follow their [King], after the Kings brother had cracked a mans skull in his fit of rage, they saw the consequences standing there. A Courier in chains.

 When the little boy opened his eyes, he saw Ryoka Griffin standing over him, facing the Duke. A sneering man with cold eyes whose pointed finger was blocked by her outstretched arms.

 No. Harm him, and I will call the wrath of hospitality down on you. I will invoke the wrath of the fae. To kill him, you have to kill me. And you cant.

 How dare you assume you could threaten me.

 The glowing chains wrapped around her and one began to strangle her. The [King] and his court halted, some calling out. Nevertheless, she met his eyes. The Wind Runner grinned, and for the first time, the ruler of Ailendamus saw Rhisveri, the Wyrm, hesitate. Her voice rasped, choking, but it seemed the wind whispered with her.

 Youneed to know what I know. My message. Are you going tokill me? And steal my treasures?

 The Dukes eyes narrowed. He raised a hand and sent her flying. But he did not kill her. He whirled away.

 Enough. Guards! Arrest this thief, who dared to try to steal from Ailendamus sacred treasury. No [Torturers]. Imprison thatboyas well.

 Uncle. Who is?

 Itorin saw the dizzy little boy raise his head. He had not been told a child would be kidnapped. His stomach began to twist in a familiar fashion, but he pretended he knew what was happening.

 Rhisveri was visibly angry, upsetand for some reason, embarrassed? His eyes flicked to Sammial without immediateprehension.

 An unintended passenger. We have lost one of your Great Knightsyour Majesty.

 How? Dame?

 The Death of Magic. And the damned Death of Chains. I must look into this. We may be in danger of teleportation strikes. And the damned Order of Seasons is on the march!

 My head hurts.

 Sammial audibly whispered. Neither man nced at him. Sammial saw Ryoka lying there, staring up at the [Knights] who were ncing at their superiors for instructions. An apprehensive [General] had taken one look at Sammials face and turned pale.

 That was Ailendamus capital. The Duke Rhisveri swept off with his brother, as arrogant as any [King]. The entric, difficult genius, who had added to Ailendamus problems.

 The war was not one of those problems, incidentally. The Dawn Concordat had lost the border forts or would lose them within the day. More armies were pushing into theirnds, trading at eptable losses if they were forced back.

 As for Pheint? The Order of Seasons own crusade, apart from the Chandrar debacle? The Duke had given one order, quickly ratified by two [Generals] and the royal seal itself.

 Send the Order of the Hydra. Send two legions.

 -

 The Order of Seasons had triumphed in three pitched battles over thest week and a half. First at the pass where they routed the army marching to nk the Dawn Concordater in smaller engagements.

 Rabbiteater fought in both, of course. Or rather, Ser Solstice did. The Hobgoblin had never passed up the opportunity to fight, and in the vanguard with the Summers Champion, he always sawbat.

 Ser Greysten was not a man who believed in leading anywhere but from the very front, with people racing to catch up and shouting that he was an idiot. He embodied a certain kind of war unknown to Earth; themander who was superior to the troops he led. Some [Generals] made their armies stronger, but were individually weak. Greysten? The opposite.

 Summer burns hot!

 He locked des with the leading [Knight] of Ailendamus. True to his words, his longsword was glowing with heat, and the Knight of the Thirsting Veil recoiled. Rabbiteater heard a male voice cursing as the helmeted figures rode past each other into the melee. Greysten was already reaching for the axe he carried; he was shing about himself with the longsword. He had lost his shield; the other [Knight] had disarmed him with a Skill.

 Greysten had burned the other mans de and the thin line of poison; a paste with small seeds now charred ck along the Thirsting Veil [Knight]s de. Fire ran rampant as more Summer Knights wielding burning weapons shed at Ailendamus wavering core of [Knights].

 They were armed with poison, the Thirsting Veils counter to the Order of Seasons aura-based attacks. Unfortunately, poison burnt away, and the Order of Seasons was too well-armored for all but the best strikes to go through. And even when they did

 Struck! Healer!

 A Summer Knight rode out of the melee, a gauntleted hand sped to a steaming wound. He or she was actively cauterizing the ce where a dagger had punched through their chestte. A Knight of Autumn, the Season of Fall, raced forwards with a broad-spectrum antidote prepared for these shes.

 Shield Ser Hitre! Break their lines!

 The Summers Champion shot past Rabbiteater as the Goblin broke off from his shoving match with a [Knight]; they had locked shields and were battering at each other without much sess. Greysten brought the hilt of his longsword down and thwacked the Ailendamus [Knight] on the side of the head, so hard he dented the dark purple iron.

 unchivalrous, Ser!

 The female [Knight] reeled, her voiceing out of her helmet. Greysten actually slowed to salute her.

 Tis a battle, Dame Enemy! And besides, poison is more unsporting still!

 The genteel conversation could only ur in a battle like this, where armored figures would spend minutes literally hammering each others armor. The Dame began to retort, shield up, when Rabbiteater reached out and pped her horse in the face. The stallion reared, furiously, and the Dame whirled back to him. Her guard was up, and she raised her mace

 Just in time for her saddle to slide off the horses back. The animal bucked off the saddle, the straps cut. Rabbiteater had taken advantage of her banter to slice them.

 [Mistreach Cut]. A gift for ying the [General]. The Dame went over with a shout.

 How

 The whuh of sounding out of her visor as shended t on her back was followed by her trying to roll over and get to her feet. She never made it. Rabbiteater rode his horse over her.

 The Summers Champion watched as the Goblin happily let his horse stomp the [Knight] into the muddy ground, already drying with the heat auras.

 That was fairly unsporting, Ser Solstice.

 Yep. Which is why I won.

 Rabbiteaters shield was up. He rode with Greysten as the two charged back towards the enemymander.

 The battle was won with surprisingly few casualties. As infour [Knights] had been wounded seriously. Three died, and the rest were heble with potions.

 It was not like the routing of Ailendamus army; the [Knights] of the Order of the Thristing Veil, unable to retreat once the horn blew, put up their des after taking a beating. They were treated, taken prisoner without even being stripped of their armor in some cases, and would be ransomed or imprisoned as Pheint saw fit. A prisoner train would need to be established again.

 I protest, Summers Champion! That [Knight] does not fight with valor or honor!

 The Dame [Knight] that Rabbiteater had bested had something to say as they were being arrested. The Summers Champion gave her a salute, his helmet off to enjoy a drink of water.

 Apologies, Dame Enemy! I would take my own Order to task for such a blowexcept perhaps Winters lot, but you skirmished with a [Knight] of Izril! His style is unlike our own. Or have you never heard of the Goblin yer? Ser Solstice!

 He pped Rabbiteater on the back. The Goblin saw some of the Thirsting Veil glower at him. One clearly muttered.

 Izrilian [Knights]. We should expect nothing more.

 Dame Talia frowned at Rabbiteater, but Greysten was ebullient after the third victory.

 Another group smashed! Well be pushing towards Ailendamus western nk soon! How long until the border?

 We might be over it. Not the watchtowers, but since they eclipsed Saturst

 Pheints army was celebrating. True, this was not the grand battle of the pass, but they had won three battles in grand style. The Order of Seasons was crusading against Ailendamus, and their attack had won them the popr opinion of Pheints people and their more aggressive leaders and [Lords], who were already assembling armies to back up the Season of Summers aggressive advance.

 Rabbiteater understoodbecause Ser Markus told himthat the issue was more politically fraught than that. He listened with interest, but the truth was hede for a fight, and a fight he got.

 To the north, then! No time for rest! Have someone sort out the prisonersif we want to keep Ailendamus guessing, I demand another forty miles behind us! At least!

 Greysten roared. The [Knights] stopped celebrating, and many leapt right back into their saddles. They were moving fast; theirs was a smaller army of [Knights], and they intended to take the pressure off the Dawn Concordat by forcing Ailendamus armies to turn towards them, by which point reinforcements would have hopefullye from Pheint.

 That was the n. Rabbiteater wished he could remove his visor to wipe the sweat from his face. Amulet of Greater Fire Resistance or not, fighting was hot work. He felt their good luck couldntst forever. Theyd broken one army of Ailendamus, but the counter had to be swinging back their way if Terandrias kingdoms were anything like the Izril that the former Redfang knew.

 He was right, of course. Ailendamus was hard at work. The war machine of one of Terandrias greatest, and certainly, newest superpowers began to move.

 -

 Ailendamus loyal servant wondered what all the fuss was about in court today. People were abuzz about a voice shouting in the castle, the Duke stirring something upand apparently one of the Great Knights of Ailendamus had perished.

 If true and not the oft-unreliable court gossip, that would be a disaster. The Great Knights of Ailendamus were, like their Great Generals, an actual ss. Not the mostmminspired of names, but the fact that Ailendamus could appoint anyone to a new ss that was an upgrade over a regr [General] was something indeed.

 He banished the thoughts from his mind. The man stopped, checking his silver-and-wheat hair in a full-body mirror. He adjusted the glowing sash of amethyst, the band across his vibrant felt coat, as red as a glossberry. He was attired with a light, heavily frilled, and ruffled shirt of pearl white, and darker pants that would be charcoal ck but for the gold lining.

 The effect, as the doors were opened and he strode into the huge courtroom, was calcted to blow the loose coat back and let it swirl about him as he strode into the room. Ailendamus great servant beheld a grand auditorium.

 That was the charm of Ailendamus pce; the sheer disy of wealth that gave rise to so many vast chambers. Why, even the hallways could amodate armies in themselves. It was so vast even half-Giants need not stoop under the ceilings. An architectural message: we shall never be assailed in our capital. There is no need for tight corridors or hallways. Ailendamus, this vast kingdom, had no small ambitions.

 And thus, even a non-critical chamber such as this was practically cavernous. The man looked up slightly, appreciating the relief drawn across the ceiling. A thousand [Artists] had renditioned a battle of King Itorin I over his enemies in a splendid drawing in the domed room.

 Of course, the army overhead was matched in scope by the army which had knelt to greet his arrival. The capitals guards, the audience in their humble clothes, and of course, the [Knights]. Or[Squires], rather.

 They were men and women. Half-Elves, Dwarves, even a Stitch-Woman. They knelt, heads uncovered, all armored in the lighter colors of their order. The man surveyed them in silence. Then he crossed to the podium and dais, his motions fluid, his head thrown back, shoulders squared to let his coat billow behind him.

 One would be fair in thinking he was a [King]. Certainly, he carried himself like one. Of course, he was not. [Kings] did not care so much as to practice the stop, heel-turn, and flourish of the arm that let him step up to the podium. Nor did your average member of royalty practice throwing their voice such that it filled the air, deepened by vocal exercises, magnified to catch the ear perfectly through extensive, nay, obsessive practice.

 I am Baron Regalius du Ecte, [Regent] of the Barony Veu in service of the glorious Kingdom of Ailendamus. By the decree of the crown as vested in me by no less than his Majestys proxy, Duchess Vepil herself, I have been granted the right to bestow titles with the full weight of Ailendamus. It is my honor to convene this ceremony on this day of Liriean, the 20th of Weris on the year 213 A.E. as set down by Ailendamus calenders.

 The oration of Baron Regalius du Ecte filled the room. By the end of the first sentence, his voice, already filled to bursting with pride, had swelled further until he was practically bellowing no less than his Majestys proxy, and honor to convene.

 Not at his audience. But rather, to the room itself, as if he stood before a million of Ailendamus citizens rather than a mere thousand, and this was the highest of honors. In a senseit was.

 The Barons eyes roamed the [Knights] kneeling before him. For this was a ceremony to elevate the [Squires] into [Knights]. Sometimes a [King] would do this himself. Baron Regalius had the honor, nay, privilege of doing it himself rather than his Majesty. He had been personally selectedby the Duchess Vepilto act in King Itorin IIs stead!

 Brave servants of Ailendamus, you have been found worthy of one of the highest honors of our kingdom. By wit and courage and valor, you have proven by deed and action to be beyond repute in both spirit and body. Ailendamus expects no less. In recognition of your actions, you have been chosen to embody the great spirit of our nation as [Knights]. You shall swear by crown and country to be no less than the finest to ever draw breath. You shall represent us in war and peace as the sword of His Majesty, the shield of the people, the hope of our young, andfort of the old!

 They were grand words. Perhapstoo grand for a mere [Baron], who, yes, ranked over a [Lord], but was hardly the greatest noble in Ailendamus. True, there were [Barons] who had inspired fear in their enemiesgreat leaders in battle who were as dangerous as the Great Generals

 Regalius was not one of them. He was a [Lord of Ceremonies], which had turned into [Baron of Ceremonies], but the officio behind the ss mattered not. It was just power; the nature was ceremony. Not war. Not finance.

 Ceremony. His entire life was based around this act. Not just knighting ceremonies, but all matters of state. Ailendamus was vast enough to have a man as specialized as him. And that was a good thing.

 You wanted a man like Baron Regalius. Many people wouldnt see it. Many people would see how he gave a speech at every dinner, thanking the host, how hebed his hair at least three dozen times even when he was at his busiest, with an enchantedb and hair products from the best [Alchemists]. They would see how he refused to ever step on grass or hike through nature, and see a ponce with no real value.

 They were, of course, fools of the highest order. They were wrong. Baron Regalius was not only the man for this job, he was perhaps the only man for this job, and that included Itorin II. Why? Because a [King] did not feel like conveningrge ceremonies like this regrly. A [King] was busy, and frankly, didnt care.

 Regalius did.

 He made it special. He had ensured all the [Squires] arrived, that they had been gifted proper rooms for the ceremony, attended all the oaths and private rituals of their order.

 Their families were here. That was Regalius doing. The low-bornmoners had the wide-eyed look of people who were permitted to walk the pce of Ailendamus seat. This was the highest honor many would ever have in their lives and many had already been weeping before he walked in.

 So the [Baron] gave them a speech worthy of the asion. He did not stutter. He did not look or sound borednor was he, and that was part of why he sounded good, even though he had said this a thousand times. When he addressed the knights-to-be, they looked up with a solemnity fitting for this asion, nevermind they were not in the presence of their [King].

 Baron Regalius had memorized their deeds and names. He did not need a list or prompter. Yes, he had Skills, but the man made an effort, Skills or not.

 Ohand one more thing. There was a third reason Regalius was so vital to Ailendamus. And it was this:

 As the ceremony concluded, a hundred [Knights] sped their hands to their chests, then performed a salute of Ailendamus; a slight touch to the bottom of their left eye, or right, depending on which was their dominant hand. Regalius named them all, individually bade them to utter their vow, struck their shoulders with the de, and had them rise.

 A hundred [Knights]. The [Baron] was tired by the end of the four hour ceremony, and only his Skills and powers of speechcraft even made the moment awe-inspiring rather than tedious. Many nations might not knight so many [Knights] in a year!

 Baron Regalius? He stood before the hundred new [Knights] and saluted them, tears in his eyes.

 Go forth, Knights of Ailendamus! Go forth, brave sons and daughters! Rise now[Knights] of the Order of the Hydra!

 This was his job, and he did it well. He did it very well. So well that Baron Regalius, who did these ceremonies most of all, and for the Order of the Hydra exclusively?

 He did this every week, at least.

 Sometimes every day.

 -

 Send the Order of the Hydra. Send two legions.

 So they came. The Order of the Hydra. A new [Knight]-order. A somewhat infamous one.

 The Order of the Hydra has sent their champions? Good! I was tiring of battling the Thirsting Veil!

 Greystenughed. Rabbiteater nudged Ser Markus and Dame Meisa, who he was riding with as the [Scout] returned. The [Scout] didnt seem to think it was so funnyshe pointed down the nds at a distant, moving bodying their way.

 It is an entire army, Summers Champion! The Order of Hydra leads it! Andand

 What is Order of Hydra?

 Rabbiteater saw Ser Markus and Dame Meisa nce at each other. Some of the Order of Seasons were sighing, preparing for battle, but there was a truculence that Rabbiteater hadnt noticed in thest three battles against the other forces. Not all knight-led either; in fact, the [Knights] had been thest to flee, but they were often the smallest contingent because they were[Knights].

 I forget you dont know the Orders of Terandria, RabSer Solstice.

 Meisa murmured. Markus nodded. He tried to stand on the stirrups to see the approaching army, but gave up to talk to the two.

 The Order of the Hydra is one of three Orders that Ailendamus fields. We have seen few of them; the Thirsting Veil are the poison-users who shed with us most strongly.

 Ah. The sensible [Knights].

 Meisa and Markus exchanged a look. Poison was unbefitting of a [Knight]. Rabbiteater had thought it was quite smart.

 Ye-es, well, Ser Solstice, its a matter of perspective. The Order of the Hydra islessthey have a reputation for being somewhatthey are a new Order, but their membership tends to be lessgenteel than other Orders. Which is not frowned upon! They have [Knight] sses. Same as we. But theyre

 Commoners.

 Meisa exined sinctly. Markus winced and nced around. He was from a noble house; she was not. The other [Knights] riding around them, mostly from the Spring, coughed, and Rabbiteater sensed the mood.

 He happily ignored it.

 Whys that matter? Commoners bad, eh?

 A silence befitting the Season of Winter swept over the group. Markus tried to exin.

 The Order of Seasons has many applicants regardless of noble birth. We do not discriminate! It is just that a non-noble house can rarely afford to pay for a [Knight]s education. That the Order of Seasons canwell, some [Knight]-orders only induct the nobility. The Order of the Hydra? The exact opposite.

 They are almost exclusivelymon-born.

 Dame Meisa leaned in to whisper. Rabbiteater stared at her.

 Okay.

 Theyhave a reputation among some Orders. Not that we have any stated objection, but the issue is somewhat contentious, Ser Solstice.

 Markus put in. Rabbiteater nodded.

 Okay.

 Its why some of the other [Knights] might prefer to sh withanother Order, Rabbit.

 Meisa leaned in so close their visors nearly touched. She whispered so only he could hear, and he caught a whiff of sweat and metal. The Hobgoblinnodded.

 Okay.

 He was getting tired of the exnations. Can we have sex now? After? He didnt really care. Rabbiteater straightened, just in time to realizehe should care.

 The Order of Seasons and Pheints army had halted. Ser Greysten had stood up in his saddle. Now he was standing on top of it, heedless of the danger to himself.

 What the

 He fell off the horse as the war stallion decided hed had enough and kicked the Summers Champion off. The fiery horse didnt hurt Greysten, but the Summers Champion was clearly rattled by something.

 Rabbiteater began to stand on his own saddle like the other [Knights]. Then he decided that was stupid.

 Markus. Give me ride.

 What? Wh

 Rabbiteater stood on Ser Markus shoulders, which was far better than a temperamental horse. He put a hand over his visor. At the same time, Talia, whod elected to use her stirrups, swore.

 That cant be right.

 -

 Send two legions of the Order of the Hydra.

 As defined in the Wordsmith Dictionaries, written by Krsysl Wordsmith for the modern era, a legion was a body of soldiers employed in an army under older military systems, asionally used in the current day. Each legion was known to beprised of between 4,000 and 6,000 soldiers unless marked as significant, such as the Necromantic Legions, which were apparently 20,000 strong, despite the numerical inuracies of the term.

 So they came. Behind them was an army of [Archers], the Greatbow operators, a conventional force of pikes and a bare handful of ridersthe main vanguard of this force drawn to defeat the Order of Seasons had been dispatched. The regr [Soldiers] were just supplementary forces, though they were still thergest body on the field.

 Yet the [Knights]? To repel the thousand plus [Knights] of the Order of Seasons, Ailendamus had sent their most populous Knight-Order. The most numerous group of [Knights] in the entire world.

 The Order of the Hydra.

 They were running down the road like a living,ughing stream of light, mulberry-colored metal. Men and women of many species, mainly Human, but anyone who showed the valor and will of their ss.

 Running. On foot. Theyughed and cheered, and they were on foot. Not a horse in sight.

 They cant even afford horses.

 One of the Summer Knights scoffed. Dame Voost pped the helmet without even looking around.

 Shut up. How many?

 woeightthousand

 Greysten was counting. The Summers Champion hadnt lost his smile, but it had turned from a grin into bared teeth. Yep. Rabbiteater spat his water out onto Ser Markus and Meisa.

 Ten thousand [Knights] were running down the road ahead of an army. And they wereughing. pping each others shoulders, cheering. Singing Ailendamus national anthem.

 Let thence-arrows fall from Ailendamus walls and guard the Kingdom of ss and Glory!

 Their massed voices echoed down the straight trade-road. They were headed straight at the Order of Seasons, not digging in, not taking a formation like the other forces. This group hade for a battle.

 The Order of Seasons and the army of Pheinthesitated. For a second. Then Ser Greysten roared.

 Season of Summer! Season of Spring! Fall! To arms! Ailendamus has sent our brothers and sisters against us! It will be a fine battle.

 He began to ze with Summers heat. The [Knights] checked themselves. Rabbiteater moved into formation behind Dame Voost. He heard some of them talking.

 Ten thousand? They may outnumber us ten to one!

 So? Commoners. They take almost no members from the aristocracy. I hear they induct them by the thousands if need be. Hah.

 It was a sentiment that the Goblin heard from more than a few helmeted heads. He nced around.

 Not the most charitable of ways to say it. However, we do out-level them. I have not heard the Order of the Hydra was known to be, ah, the most high-level. I might guess even our Spring Knights stand above them.

 Ser Markus was flexing one hand. Dame Meisa was uncharacteristically silent. Maybe because she saw it the way Rabbiteater did. Neither of them were noble.

 He saw it a bit differently than the Order of Seasons. Rabbiteater looked at the all-infantry army. Lacking horses, yes,cking specialization to their armor and weapons which were mass-produced. Commoners en-masse.

 Put another way? He saw ten thousand [Knights]. Who didnt have horses, which were a pain to feed and keep healthy, a huge saving, who could run in full te armor and who had the morale ofmon-folk who knew they could fight and elevate themselves. Be more than they were simply born.

 LikeGoblins. Oh, and one more thing? Their mass-produced armor and weapons were fine steel from Ailendamus huge, mass-producing forges, and mass-enchanted. Weakly enchanted, but mass.

 Rabbiteater eyed the army. Then he spotted their champion. He inhaled suddenly, and gave voice to his feeling.

 We are in trouble now.

 The Order of the Hydra did not march just with the sound of their own voices. The loud voices, the shouts were reced by a distant melody. A spirited one. The Order of Seasons heard it drifting towards them on the breeze, incredulously. Did theck of decorum of this Order know no bounds?

 They were yinga song. A songnot a national anthem or glorious war-song, but a pop-y, running song. Sung by a female [Singer].

 The Singer of Terandria, in fact. It came from a song-crystal, strapped to a [Trumpeter]s horn and sting out of the enchanted tube. Rabbiteater thought it was a great song to run to. If the Redfangsno, if any Goblin tribe had heard it, it might have be their theme-song. He began to tap a foot against his horses side.

 What song is that? I want to buy a crystal.

 He nudged Meisa. Ser Markus absently pulled something out of his bag of holding.

 I believe I have a song-catalogue of the Singerstest songs.

 Markus! Now?

 Meisa rolled her eyes as Rabbiteater looked over and matched the song to the name already.

 Good to be Alive, as originally performed by Skillet.

 Ooh. Good song. Why do skillets sing?

 Then his head rose again. Because he heard a distant voice. The enemymander was bellowing, so loud that even the distant Order of Seasons heard it.

 The Order of the Hydra fights on foot! We triumph with our feet on the ground! Time to bring down some [Riders]!

 Now those were fighting words. The Order of Seasons backs went up. Ser Greysten grinned grimly. He shaded his eyes.

 Ah. Now that could be a problem. The one good [Knight] in the entire Order of the Hydra hase against us already. Is she Ailendamus Great Knight?

 None other, Summers Champion. Unless you think theres two of her?

 Dame Voost remarked drily. She eyed the [Knight] who stood out from the rest with unease. The [Soldiers] of Ailendamus were cheering her, and her fellow [Knights].

 Pheints [Soldiers]? They gaped in much the way Rabbiteater did. Someone cried out, with a shaking voice.

 The Great Knight of Ailendamus! The Dame of the Hills! Dame Mer, the Hill-Knight!

 Rabbiteater looked at her. Mer, the Great Knight of Ailendamus. Thenhis head tilted back.

 Fun fact:monfolk included half-Giants, incidentally. Not a royal bone in their body. And here came the first half-Giant [Knight] he had ever seen. ying the very song-crystal she had once been given by Cara OSullivan.

 Mer, the Hill-Knight. She wasnt as tall as some of her kin. She wasnt Zamea the [Shepherd], thirty plus feet tall. Mer was only twenty eight feet tall.

 And covered in armor. And holding a sword on her back only a nation like Ailendamus could afford to make. Andughing.

 Come on, sisters and brothers! For Ailendamus! For the glory of Terandria and the Order of the Hydra! Lets get them.

 Her voice boomed across the ground. She pointed ahead.

 Summers Champion! I challenge you to singlebat! Lets fight fair, eh?

 She smiled and threw back her head tough, a huge, full-bellyugh that made Rabbiteater think of home.

 The Knight of the Hillsughed like someone who could do anything.

 We will have to circle and strike them. If they bog us down, we will never endure. Burn the air until they retreat.

 The Summers Champion calmly dispersed his forces, meeting the half-Giants gaze. He saluted her, then looked around. He rode through the ranks of the [Knights], and found a shoulder to sp.

 Rabbiteater started and looked into Greystens gaze. The Summers Champion smiled.

 Still with us, Ser Solstice?

 He did not intimate that Rabbiteater would run. But there would be no reproach if the foreign [Knight] decided hed had enough. Yet Rabbiteater just shook his head.

 I dont ever abandon my friends. I dont have enough to lose more.

 Greysten smiled wider. He squeezed, and raised his voice for all to hear. He gestured at the Order of the Hydra.

 That is right! We must quash Ailendamus ambitions. This is but the first sign they will not rest until they upy every nation on Terandria. The odds may be taller against us. So? The taller fall harder.

 He nced back at the Dame of the Hills. The Order of Seasons cheered. Rabbiteater did not. He nced at the Order of the Hydra.

 They believe in their kingdom as much as you do in your thing. [Knight] vs [Knight]. Same morale. Same will. Big, hard fight.

 You think the Order of Seasons will lose, Ser Solstice?

 Dame Talia snapped. Rabbiteaters head turned slowly. He replied, calmly. Calmly, but with the same heat that Greysten had imed for his Season.

 I dont underestimate my foes. I lost my people and my family, once. Never again. So lets fight.

 He met Talias gaze until she looked away. Then looked at Markus, Meisa, Greysten, Zulv, Voostthe Summers Champion nodded.

 Then ride with me, my brother.

 The Order of Seasons raised theirnces. Then prepared to charge the Order of the Hydra.

 -

 Ofte, it seemed like a lot was going wrong. Oh, there were some good victories, but they were invariably tainted by things that you couldnt write any other way but disaster.

 For instance: yes, the King of Destruction was burned. Yes, the Terandrian crusade would not threaten other Chandrarian nations if the noble kingdoms of Terandria just happened to decide they wanted another colony or didnt agree with the way a nation was governed.

 On the other hand? Khelt was awake. It had deployed no less than three groups of Revenant undead who had disyed terrifyingly powerful Skills. They had ground down an entire crusades advance, and the infamously dangerous iven Earth and all of Medain had barely halted them. And only then because it seemed like two of the Revenants got bored and retreated!

 Not to mention the fact that even if the King of Destruction was wounded, the very act had been a Djinni-led assassination. A rarity in any but the most brutal wars. Andhe had freed a Djinni and now a city was gone.

 Revtion after revtion. All bad news. But the crowning cherry on top, ironically, the straw that was breaking the camels backno, the giant wood log falling from a hundred feet up? Two things.

 Firstly, the takedown by Drassi of no less than Queen Yisame on public television regarding her culpability in the Djinni attack. Nerrhavia was aughingstock. Worse, the crowns authority was called into question and they were being viewed as having ordered the attack, despite it really being unauthorized!

 Secondly, and from another angle: the loss of Alked Fellbow, Named Adventurer, to Khelt. Yes, Nerrhavias Fallen was a superpower, arguably one of the finest for sheer size and power, if not as newlye to it as Ailendamus. But losing a Named Adventurer?

 No nation bore that lightly. So the two disasters, more than the rest, were political and military. Political embarrassment was one thing; the courts would gleefully spread rumors, gossip, and im you were failing and on yourst stitches, even if they had to whisper it for fear of public redress.

 You could weather that. But the [Generals], noble [Emirs], [Administrators] of each region, and every other military body in Nerrhavias Fallen who had a sliver of power had their own agendas. They viewed defence of the realm as a key; wars and plots to expand the nation and their own power, or defeat enemies within or abroad were their stuffing and stitches. Losing Alkedpermanently; he had renounced his citizenship!was a devastating blow. Khelt itself was terrifying to these war hawks.

 Now Nerrhavia was caught between two very angry, very powerful groups. The royal courts were abuzz, the higher echelons heaved with unrest, and Queen Yisame had an ulcer.

 She poked at her stomach and felt a wave of pain radiating upwards from her guts. Nevermind that her body was sewn with Kisquiel Silk, a royal cloth from the origin of their kingdom, looted from Nerrhavias own coffersno. The same silk that gave Queen Yisame such unparalleled radiance, grace, and splendor did nothing to fix her stomach problems. She stared at her glorious, bronzed skin-cloth, treated daily with dozens of alchemical substances to keep it supple and young, and made a face.

 Servant! I require a recement stomach.

 Yisame delicately plucked the string knot around her guts, and the beautifully concealed thread came away. Royal she might be, but every Stitch-Person was used to changing their body. In a trice, Yisame had the offending stomach, stitched of the same Kisquiel Silk, out and felt the hollow feeling she knew all too well.

 Your Majesty! The [Chiurgeon]

 I have no time! Do not summon her!

 Yisame reced her stomach before something happened. You could live a while without a stomacha long time, actually. But the problem with a missing organ was that your body began to feel its absence. Unlike Duhans and whatever spatial-bending powers they had where they could detach limbs, Stitch-Peoples organs justwent missing.

 If Yisame had broken her fast, it might havee out into her inner abdomen. What a mess. Of course, she could have reced almost every organ with easeexcept her heart, a dangerous operationbut they would each have to be individually cleaned, and carefully reced so their absence didnt harm her.

 At any rate, Yisame felt better when her new stomach was installed. She glowered at her old one.

 I have an ulcer. Have it mended and reinforced.

 Yes, your Majesty!

 The servant took the piece of cloth sewn to look identical to a stomach away, to be healed by a [Chiurgeon of Cloth]or just a [Seamstress]. Of course, it was easy to repair internal organs with thread, rather than potions, but the tradeoff was that a poorly-stitched stomach lining could burst. A poorly shaped one, or one made of inferior materials had different qualities; poorer digestion, or just different capabilities.

 I have heard that Hemps can consume even tree bark. Is that so? I shall breakfast now.

 Yisame stretched, as one of her handmaidens stitched her stomach closed with deft movements. Another discreetly signalled the rest of her royal staff to heat and have the sumptuous breakfast out and ready by the time she exited her bedroom.

 I have heard it said they can even eat rocks, your Majesty. Suchcrude cloth.

 One of the [Servants] murmured. Servant she was, but the Nerrhavias Fallen Stitch-girl was still made of silk, the costliest and highest-caste of Stitch-Folk.

 Three castes. Hemp, Cotton, and Silk. Of course, you could be made from any cloth, but they were in three categories. Hemp wereborers,mon soldiers. Cotton were everything from merchants to artisans to whatever they wanted to be. Silk?

 Silk ruled in grace and style. Silk was beautiful, strong. Simply superior. And Queen Yisame ruled over Nerrhavias Fallen, one of, nay, the greatest Stitch-Folk Kingdom in the world.

 She was having a bad day. A bad week.

 Her stomach began hurting again before breakfast was even over.

 -

 Oh, see the exalted courts of Nerrhavias Fallen, built in glory on the backbone of tyrants.

 Literally, if the rumors were to be believed. Nerrhavia, that old tyrant who had ruled thends now taking her name, had gone to her grave when all was lost, depriving her enemies of the ability to hold her to ount in life or death for her actions. Her tomb had thusly been buried beneath the capitals sewers and other infrastructure. A fitting end.

 What had emerged from that time was a kingdom of Stitch-Folk like no other. Which is what they all said, but Nerrhavias Fallen meant it this time. It was rich beyond belief, fed by countless territories, protected by armies with hundreds of thousands of [Soldiers], and was tributed more wealth still.

 Like any good nation, the capital was thusly the crown jewel of said wealth. That was not what made Nerrhavias Fallen unique, however. What made it unique was the people that had risen to this height of power.

 Stitch-Folk were not Human. The String People were shaped like Humans, but that was humanoid, and the half-Elves said that Humans had copied Elves anyways. Duhans, Centaursit was amon look. Yet it came out culturally a lot different.

 Drakes built their famous Walled Cities when they stood in the heyday of their power. Bastions of defense and control. Literal giant vaults they could hide behind and hoard treasures in.

 Humans? Humans had the archetypal castles and pces which you saw everywhere. Gleaming faades, ballrooms, a certain predilection towards wide open spaces where someone could sit above it all on a gleaming throne.

 Where Nerrhavias Fallen differed was in the very design andponent parts of what they treasured. From afar, the pce where Queen Yisame walked looked almostwrong.

 Why did it twist so, offended, foreign [Architects] asked? Why didnt you build a straight tower? Why did you use wood rather than stone in sections of your building, and create these aggravatingplexities in every designsometimes viting the very blueprints you set downto amodate for material? If a tree trunk, cut almost wholesale, skews left, then cut the damn tree and make it straight!

 Of course, that just exposed their ignorance. Yes, Nerrhavias Fallen had curved structures. Yes, everything wasnt straight. And that was because Stitch-Folk believed the material mattered as much as the design.

 Fabric bent. You could quarry a block of stone to be a perfect geometrical cube. And if you did? Did you ignore the stronger seam, the natural strength of the rock waiting to be exposed? A trees natural curves were sometimes better than a nk of wood.

 Thus, they contrived to build entire towers that curved in the air, just ever-so-slightly, but which viewed from afar, rmed anyone who had never seen them, as if they might fall over. Hallways were not all straight lines. The entire effect was to create a pce that sometimes felt as alive as any [Druid]-building.

 Not to mention, a certain nod toplementary materials. Some idiots chose marble and pped it down everywhere because marble was rich.

 Queen Yisame passed through one of her sitting rooms where she liked to escape the heat, and was d her Kisquiel Silk-skin was rated against minor elements; otherwise her feet would have chilled on the Frostwood floor, which remained cool and cooled the room at all hours, even in the arid heat.

 Is there any news from Khelt? Anyother events of note?

 Yisames staff flurried about her as the [Queen] broke her fast and dressed, all grumpily upset. Quail eggs were the least expensive ingredient sourced for her breakfast, which, if she but clicked her fingers, could be one of a hundred different styles from around the world.

 Of course, she ate in Nerrhavias Fallens own style, as her [Servants] would surely gossip and rte a change in her diet. This was not the time to be anything less than patriotic, so the date jams, customary tbreads topped with soft goat cheeses, and the like were her fare. Not much meat in the mornings.

 Yisame could have really done away with the thirty-minute breakfast, or if she did take her time, fewer [Servants] about. Mainly because they were not her bosom friends, stitched of the same cloth, childhood confidants, but spies and informants who yed their own games in the pce. So she ate like a [Queen] as a [Servant] fussed about.

 This poor [Servant] has not heard of any important events of note, your Majesty. However, we are but the humblest of your attendants. Perhaps the royal courts know far more than we?

 The narked look the [Queen] gave the [Servant] said quite clearly that she knew the staff heard everything of value ahead of time. But then, Yisame supposed that meant any grand developments were secret, so only her [Spymaster] and the top echelons of her court would have heard of it.

 Some good news, at least. Yisame sighed and rose. As she did, wearing a regal dress of Shockwool, the air around her changed. Her servants drew back.

 Mainly because the dress would give them a damn good zap if they got close. But also because the [Queen] was about.

 We shall attend the courts anon. Prepare the way.

 Yisame changed to the royal we, a custom whenever she was in public. She rose a [Queen], and swept into the hub of the pce, where gossip and politics ruled.

 It took her fifteen minutes to get there. Nevermind that it was not far from her chambers; the real issue was that Yisame did not just walk into the royal courts.

 She had to be announced. Royalty did not just skip about, poking their heads into rooms. First, the [Head Maid] informed the [Chambein] or other representative, who had a [Herald] announce hering in the court. The first time. When she actually entered, she was announced again, and all present bowed.

 Yisame, by custom, took her seat not on the grandest throne in her throne room, but a lesser throne, seats marked only for the royal family or ruler in all such locations. From the outdoor pools to the courts, positively alive as nobility, officials, and people of power sat at tables, gossiped in wending hallways, or dined on the capitals riches, there was a seat for Yisame. She never jumped in the pool.

 And oh, she wanted to jump in the pool. Yisame had seen children doing it, but not once had she done the same, even as a girl.

 She sat on the Seat of Words, the enchanted, actually fairlyfortable seat on which she could listen to the courts gossip. With it, she could focus and pick out a flys buzzing across the vast chamber, even behind the low-rise walls that made her courtroom almost like a vast bazaar,plete with restaurants where people could eat at any time.

 It was always full, even at night. Yisame heard a lot of innocuous talk, but as always, the best conversation, the truly juicy tidbits and plotting were absent. The problem wasshe sat on the Seat of Words, which allowed her to hear anything she chose.

 Everyone knew that, so they cast [Silence] or other privacy spells to keep the important conversations private. Rather, if you were smart at all, the really vital talk was never discussed in the pces public areas. You found a room you had already screened for spells, invisible watchers, peepholes, and then jogged into the city and had your conversation in a hole in the ground because everyone was listening.

 In the same way, everyone watched Yisame. The [Queen] waited for the first of her court, her advisors, her [Strategists], top [Generals] and so on to approach her. There would be a pecking order of the day, a scheme to watch for and abet or aid. Yisame would have to keep her focus. After all

 The real power of Nerrhavias Fallen was the throne. Of course. But the throne was held up by powerful people. And if they rocked, Yisame might well fall from grace. It had happened before.

 The [Queen] smiled as her [Spymaster], a powerful Stitch-man who had a golden handliterally, Truegold embedded in the fingertipsgreeted her and whispered in her ear. He had served as the top [Spy] in the previous [Spymaster]s employ, and then murdered her in her sleep.

 Three of her great [Generals] vied to talk to her about Khelt, each one with an army under the crowns authoritybut who were quite, quite loyal to the [Generals] above said crown. She treated with the [Chancellor of Coin], whose power over the mint and a vast amount of wealth meant that he could lean on any [Merchant] in Nerrhavia, and had an army of his own guards of the treasury. Her [Royal Magician] was a powerful woman who had survivedhad it been over a hundred assassination attempts? Yes, theyd thrown her a party.

 The power behind the throne. In a way, Nerrhavias Fallen was more typical of a monarchy than many nations popping up in the news. Of course, there were absolute tyrannies like Khelt in its way, or ces where the [King] was undisputed, like Reim. However, in practice, many rulers had to treat with powerful underlings with some degree of care. Even a mighty [Queen] could suffer a rebellion of the nobility.

 Nerrhavias Fallen? Well. Sometimes the crown was mighty, sometimes it walked with care. Yisame was on the lower end of average when it came to the crowns power. That was to say, she was a principal yer in any power move, and she was [Queen], not puppet on the throne. But she did listen when her advisors spoke.

 Such as Khelt, or the war in Tiqr, orwell, every event you could name, really. Yisame had gone to the meeting at Pomle knowing her courts stance on the warknowing Tiqr would likely be the target everyone aimed at. She had tried to stop the idiotic Terandrians on the advice of her [Diplomats] and [Generals], both groups united in their fear of Khelt.

 Her inner circle of the powerful helped her decide what to do. Yisame threw her weight behind those she found more trustworthy, actions that might enrich her own position. And when the nation trembled, or made a mistake, when Alked Fellbow resigned or Djinni attacked a sovereign [King]?

 She took that fall.

 -

 The Level 22 [Queen] was in her mid-forties. Her levels in her ruling ss belied her ability to navigate the days treachery. She felt every eye on her, and so rxed, despite the two terrible indictments to her rule. Her dress of Shockwool made the air around her hum, a reminder to anyone who stood close.

 There is still power here. Obvious as Stitch-metaphors went, but sometimes you needed to be obvious.

 And we expect to cut off the Lord of the Skies from Reim shortly. Hellios has yet to burn with full rebellion, but many cities have taken up arms. We intend to strike at the King of Destruction as he lies wounded.

 One of her [Generals], Thelican, spoke for a smiling circle of his peers. Yisame smiled.

 This pleases us. We await the head of the King of Destruction, General Thelican. Your name shall be writrge in the history books ere he falls.

 Thelican beamedthen his eyes flickered. Yisame smiled graciously as he bowed, a touch uneasily.

 A lot could go on in a few words. She did not say you promised Hellios would instantly rebel, rather than theckluster revolts she had seen so far. Yisame let Thelican take credit for the war nby mentioning his name, and potential for glory, she implicated him in the fall.

 Of course, if all of Nerrhavias Fallens glorious hordes failed to defeat the King of Destruction, she, Yisame, would be in greater danger still. The [Queen]s stomach hurt.

 Your Majesty, I have uncovered three plots against your life.

 Three. Her [Spymaster] was good. Perhaps they were just symbolic plotsbut everyone was whispering. Yisame could hear it, now and then.

 The Djinni

 on the news

 She flicked open a hand-fan. It was beneath a [Queen] to fan herself, of course; she had servants to do that if she wished, although the courts were cooled quite well. It was a signal.

 Her [Spymaster] hurried back over, frowning in vexation. He approached the throne.

 Your Majesty?

 We did not converse on a topic that had slipped my mind. What of theDrake? A suitable reprimand is in order, yes?

 It is still in progress, Great Queen. The Drake cities are not easy to infiltrate, and she lies under the aegis of the Cyclops of Pass.

 That was not what Yisame wanted to hear, and she gave the [Spymaster] a thin re. Just so people knew she was upset. She could not afford to truly insult or offend him, but it might set a fire under his rear.

 That Drake. ThatYisame stewed as she continued her court. It had all been going so well, a week ago!

 -

 A week ago, Yisame had felt like [Queen] of everything. That was before the Djinni debacle, and Alkeds departure. She had been riding high, and from what?

 The Arbiter Queens conve, of course. That had been Yisames crowning glory. Her, deliberating on the fate of that wretched fool from Belchan! Holding her own among her peers, disying Nerrhavias Fallens wisdom!

 Dead gods, but she had felt alive when she saw people reying scenes of her, and everyone, everyone talking about her. Not just the court, not just her people, but the worlds watchers. Her gesture, the single thumb pointed down, had been made into several sculptures and paintings widely-circted.

 She had three copies in her room.

 Thenthat Drake and the Djinni incident. Yisame hadnt predicted it. Shed been so happy to be interviewed on the news she had demanded to speak personally to Drassi, of whom she had been quite enamoured with.

 Right up until the [Reporter] had made her aughingstock in a twenty-minute interview so painful that Yisame wanted to rip out the stitches along her ears and pluck out her eyes whenever someone so much as brought it up!

 No one was even allowed to say Drassis name anymore. That Drake would suffer, naturally. Even aside from Yisame herself, she had insulted all of Nerrhavias Fallen by making them look foolish. But the damage was done.

 Todays court has tired us. We shall return to our rooms and rest. Not to be disturbed.

 The servants bowed as Yisame returned to her quarters, tired after three hours of managing the days affairs. It was really the least she could get away with. Three hours was not long, but she had put out immediate fires, shown her facenow she could run away.

 As she had feared, the vultures were out. Circling like hyena packs, trying to see if now was the time to undermine her, or simply reduce her power. Her supporters werent leaving her, butoh, it was not fun.

 Such was Queen Yisames life. One of the most powerful rulers of a superpower, constantly gued by stomach pain and juggling factions and praying they were not steering her into a mistake.

 Not atypical. Not special.

 Certainly not high-level as a [Queen] went. Yisame knew her [Servants] were right in the waiting rooms, probably gossiping about her, maybe even mocking her behind her back.

 If she raised her voice, they would hear her and attend her every need. Since Yisame did not want them listening in at this moment for gossip, she twisted a ring on her finger.

 [Complete Silence] enveloped the rooms. ordingly, Yisame thought she saw a slight shadow behind the doors to her rooms vanish; a [Servant] sulking off. Yisame waited a beat. She knew her rooms were warded; her people were not ipetent and protected her.

 Neverthelessthere were things she wanted to keep secret. The [Queen] walked over, found a chair, and wedged it under the handle of the door. She closed the curtains herself. She sat in the cool darkness, and her pulse spiked a bit.

 Queen Yisame of Nerrhavias Fallenhad a secret. Of course, everyone knew she had a secret. Monarchs all had their foibles. Stillstill. What they knew varied.

 For instance,mon-folk knew that Yisame sometimes visited the diator arenas and had a favoritethe current Champion of Champions, the title for Nerrhavias Fallens greatest diator in the capital. They were always favored by royalty, or how else would they be the best?

 No less than Mars the Illusionist had oncee from that very arena, and Yisame sometimes was seen in disguise, watching the battles.

 That was, of course, made up. Propaganda spread around. Yisame didnt really care for the current Champion of Champions, a quite showy Centaur woman. So what people knew was wrong.

 They thought they knew her passions, her debauched pleasures and sinful little secrets. Some things her [Spymaster] made up. Some things Yisame let spread. The truth wasa lot of what people assumed a [Queen] would do were wrong.

 Yes, you could hire the greatest [Courtesan] in all of Nerrhavias Fallen to provide you with service and unimaginable pleasure. Any species! The greatest Skills in the art of sensuality. Yisame had done that.

 She had also taken other pleasures. She had done everything someone with her means would, experimented, indulged herself. The problem wasit got old. The most high-level [Courtesan] ran out of tricks the eighth time you met with them.

 A Potion of Divine Sensation did its work every time you drank it, even if the Drakes refused to produce it anymore. It got old. Drugs lost their kick; they were addictive, but not unique.

 Everything becameboring. Boring, because Yisame could have anything she wanted. If she were poorer, less influential

 Ah, to be less than Silk! To havechallenges.

 The [Queen]y on her bed, filled with enchantments and protective spells worth more than some of her lesser nobilitys entire fortunesbined, and bemoaned her fate. Then she rose, whisper-quiet despite the ring on her finger glowing with soft, dark iron light, and walked to a corner of her room.

 Her private chambers were alreadyrge enough to y a ser game in. Not at the highest tower of Nerrhavias pceroyalty got tired of themutebut in the center of that grand ce. ordinglyYisame traced a finger across a bookshelf, found a bound volume conspicuously a bit worn.

 The Secrets of Monarchs. She rolled her eyes. Whoever had designed this mechanism to begin with had a sense of humor. She pulled it, and the entire bookshelf promptlyvanished.

 A powerful illusion spell that revealed one of the secret passages known to litter the pce. This one was not connected to the other chambers or hidden hallways; it was for the ruler alone.

 Of course, the [Spymaster] knew it existed. The [Servants] knew Yisame tip-toed down there. They probably monitored the local teleportation spell or secret passage out of her private rooms to make sure she was safe if she went out in secrecy.

 Yisame did not do any of these things. She descended the smooth walkway carved of a single tree, stepping lightly over glowing steps that revealed malign spells on her and were keyed to only let her through. She passed through trap spells rendered inactive by her royal rings. And emerged into the ce her predecessors had built.

 Secret indulgences. Dark secrets. Everything a monarch mightdesireand revel in, where no one was able to see them.

 It was a big room. Altogether toopaddedfor Yisames taste. But then, at least it was stain-proof. And had its own silencing spells.

 Every time she came down here, she had to stare at the giant phallus in the center.

 Who used this? Did anyone use it?

 Yisame walked around it. It was bigger than she was! Thissex dungeoncould have aodated a hundred pairs quite easily. It had. She walked past an empty pool just ready to be filled with any gel or other liquid you desired. A rather, rather </divrge bed withpletely different enchantments to her royal one above. Ones to enhance any actsmitted on it.

 There were things in this room that Yisame had needed to look up the usage of. Every kind of strap, piece of furniture, brush, harness, stone, cordwell. It was just as well no one came down here but her, or someone might know the Queen had dark passions.

 Yisame poked a gtinous mold of an intimate part of someones body. It kept wobbling for nearly three minutes afterwards.

 Her [Spymaster] knew this ce existed. Her servants did, too. They did not speak of it openly. Some secrets were just too important to spill, and their heads were on the line if anyone were to know of it. They abetted the [Queen]s passions, asionally smuggling in people for assignations. Sometimes someone had toe down here to clean everything up.

 Yisame circled the room. She did not pause long on the many objects she was, by now, familiar with. When she did stop, she stopped next to one of the less striking objects present.

 ACentaurs phallus attached to a life-sized model hanging in the corner of the room. Yisame reached out, grasped itand yanked hard.

 The fake sexual instrument of great, and perhaps fatal, pleasures clicked as it moved downwards. Yisame turned as a second wall slid open, revealing a second secret passage, this one going straight out. She walked through.

 The thing about secret dens of debauchery was that everyone expected the first one. Yisame and her predecessors werent idiots.

 The second chamber led to an inner sanctuary. A secretir that was actually a good deal less pristine than the sex dungeon that the servants regrly cleaned. Not that it was filthy! It was just that whoever used it had to clean up after themselves and Yisame didnt often sweep the minute dust and whatnot she tracked in.

 The second room looked more like an [Alchemist]sboratory. It held neatly-tended to nts, vials of dust, potionsYisame stopped to admire the first vial.

 Selphids Dust. A powerful, and highly illegal narcotic. She stared at it, and then some of the other drugs she had sampled in her youth. She eyed an entire drawer of various kinds of Dreamleaf products.

 She walked on, through the den, with the padded ces to lounge, snacks, treats, and ran her finger down the rows of bottles. She found one, and pulled at it. Then she walked into the hallway again and took the third secret passageway, sighing mightily.

 Her [Spymaster] knew that the sex dungeon wasnt actually used. Yisame suspected he was aware of the room of drugs and other illicit pleasures. If he had ever made it to the third chamber, wellhed left it there. After all, one look at the glittering chess board, pieces carved out of gemstones, and the magical, glowing surface, revealed Yisames true passion.

 Chess! And if that didnt fool her people, then the skein of magical yarn and knitting needles would. The halfpleted Paterskein design spoke to something they would believethat Yisame liked to knit! A scandalous, butpletely understandable pastime for a [Queen]. Despite being above it all, she was still thread like they were.

 She had a subscription to Chess Weekly that was covertly delivered to her rooms, and she sometimes dropped subtle hints about fabric. All this for secrecy. All this so they wouldnt know her true passion. Yisame tip-toed around the gemstone chess board. She had custom-bought a nasty trap spell and set it up at the entrance; her [Spymaster] probably looked at the trap, the chessboard, assumed she was the Titans opponent or styled herself as such, and let her be. Same with her servants who might uncover this ce, if any.

 The truth wasYisame was not good at chess. She was not about to indulge in a life of sweaty, iling limbs. She had a drug of her own, but it wasnt Selphids Dust. But it was potent.

 Her hands trembled as if she was still addicted to Fabledust. Yisame nced over her shoulder, then, atst, pushed past the simple curtain shed hung up to hide the final, and true room she liked to visit. She spread her arms and sighed.

 The room was a humble onepared to many of her residences; stillrger than most middle-ss families homes. Hollowed out of the pce, the walls were a mis-match of many different building materials. Into the room sparse furniture had been interjected; a desk and chair. Anda cushioned, stuffed orb of jaguar fur that Yisame could sink into, the better to indulge her passions. It wasfy, and sat only a few feet in front of the door.

 Beyond ity what she hade for. Her great secret. The room was filled, not with furniture, but with shelves.

 Shelves and shelves ofbooks.

 Queen Yisame, the Level 22 [Queen] and Level 27 [Avid Reader], pped her hands together and sighed. She could feel the stress oozing out of her. She wandered her private library of books, mostly fiction, or historical adventure stories, and smiled.

 -

 Books. Books, books, books. They were food for the soul. One of the few things a monarch with unlimited power might indulge in, really.

 Another answer once you got over the stereotypes of sex, drugs, war, and so on, might be pets. Yisame had considered it, but they just werent as fascinating to her as they were to some of her peers.

 And some of them, like Sariant Lambs, she just would not tolerate. She hated the maniptive little things. They were a match for her royal court.

 Books? Books were something Yisame could buy, but not replicate in any way but to read them. They were stories, and such stories that she could envision herself doing.

 Climbing the High Passes, waging glorious battle with boonpanions, sailing through stormy seas as Krakens tried to consume ship and crew alike!

 She just loved to read. And it was reading which kept her sane. For instance, as she had sat on the Seat of Words, holding court, Yisames smile and patient observation of her court had hidden what was really going on in her head.

 Thivian Stormless, the Lightning Thief, dove as the rain of arrows from the Lamias bows struck down around him and hispanions. Not one touched the Duhan [Mercenary], Here, much to her disbelief. She had been prepared for death, but she saw the Lightning Thief hold up an armful of arrows and dump them at their feet. Not even the enchanted arrowheads had detonated!

 Dead gods, but I hate stealing arrows. Lets get out of here before they do it again!

 He panted, and the two raced down the battlements as the confused Lamias, shouting for him to return the Eye of Baleros, loaded a second volley onto their bows and sent them whistling through the air. Thivian outpaced Here as he ran, dodging over the cleared ground for the forest. The Duhan, swearing, looked back just in time to see an arrow arcing towards her back. She threw up her shield and shouted

 Queen Yisame was re-reading one of her favorite books. The Lightning Thief and the Eye of Baleros, a somewhat-urate retelling of the actual [Thief], Thivian Stormless.

 She had been ying the passage out in her head during the boring court. Now, Yisame loaded enough of the story in her mind to reyter. Her eyes flickered across the page, such that she kept turning the books pages every second.

 She was not reading the book, so much as memorizing it. Yisame was a Level 27 [Avid Reader]. A ss few people even knew existed, and at her level?

 [sh Memorization: Literature]. She closed the book after five minutes, and let the four hundred page drama rest in her mind. She would actually read itter.

 [Automatic Recitation: Literature]. That was how she could hear the tale in her head, blow by blow, when she was sitting on a throne and dying as someone read out a promation, or letting people parade her about, or travelling oranything.

 The trick was keeping her face from revealing what was happening. Yisame could do that, though. And oh, books!

 Now she had her day-reading material set up, Yisame reached for the books shed actually read in her time off. If she was lucky, no one would disturb her for a few hours. At least! She pulled out thetest book shed had smuggled in with one of the [Prostitutes] who often just took naps in the sex dungeon. They knew the score.

 Here it is. Thetest installment. Is it? Yes!

 The Queen delightedly waved the book about. Shed heard the [Book Merchant] was in town, and this one was hot off the [Scribe]s quills. It even had artwork! She read the back of the book eagerly.

 Presenting sixteen tales from around the world, from the first-hand ount of the Stargnoll herself, Lehra Ruinstrider, to ounts of the Dauntless Packsst voyage into the Depthless Dungeon by a survivor of the expedition.

 This book also includes a retelling of The Vige of the Dead raid, as recounted by survivors, and a summary of thest, heroic stand of the Horns of Hammerad!

 Tales of Adventure and Woe, an ongoing book series. This was Book #31,129, proudlybelled on the spine.

 Yes, there had been that many books. No, no one had aplete collection or even close! There were re-prints, unauthorized publishers, and redactions of false stories. But it was one of the few things that remained past the copse of civilization.

 Adventurer stories. Yisame debated cracking it open right away, but she had six books ongoing and she wasnt sure she wanted to indulge herself just yet.

 She could devour a book in a day, but she liked to savor books. Re-read them. Rey them in her head during dull moments. And this one? Oh, this one was topical. Yisame flitted around, collected her currently-read books and settled back in the beanbag, which was really a Sariant-Lamb-wool-bag.

 The thing most people didnt realize was that a [Reader] was above ordinary readers. Dead gods, most people didnt even read for fun that much! If your city had a library, it was already something. A child might have a single book or two they would read, and perhaps adults read a few books, their own Tales of Adventure and Woe if they could afford to splurge now and then.

 They were not [Readers]. Yisame had Skills that enhanced the act of reading. She could rey stories. And also

 The Thief of Clouds is a noteworthy new [Thief]; this humble [Writer] cannot yet identify more than a few salient facts.

 Krsysl Wordsmith loved to call himself a humble writer. Yisame rolled her eyes, delicately shaded around the eyelids and corners, and adjusted her regal dress. She kicked a slipper halfway across her private library after two tries.

 Nevertheless, we can paint a picture of this young [Thief]; hees from the Great ins, hence the sizable bounty already on his head from both Drake cities and the Gnolls of the wild. His first noticeable thefts were about four years ago, while the famous incident that named him Thief of Clouds ured only a year back.

 Eye-witnesses paint him as a slim Gnoll, with a greyish fur often described as mixed with a forest brown, or a russet red tinge. He has not, as of yet, lost limbs or taken noticeable scars over his fur, but what is striking, ording to those who im to have met him, is how athletic he is.

 Famous [Thieves] have been notoriously less than limber, but the Thief of Clouds can run up the wall of a Drake city, leap from rooftop to rooftop while avoiding the Watch, and even clear gaps with jumping Skills.

 One ount I have taken down describes his antics like this:

 I thought he was flying at first, you see. He went up the side of a building so fast everyone thought he was using a Ring of Levitation or something. It turns out he was using these little handholdsbarelyrger than my w! Just pulling himself up faster than the Watch could run on the ground. Then he waved at us, jumped, as bold as you like, and dashed off across the rooftops!

 From this, we can gather that the Thief of Clouds makes up for ack of stealth or a certain acumen with the lockpicks with sheer, blinding speed and escapism. Which certainly fits his pattern of thefts

 Yisame was reading from People to Watch, Issue #22, by Krsysl Wordsmith. A book that listed high-level people around the world. It was going toe out faster now; apparently it would join the new phenomenon of the smaller magazines. Yisame, as a loyal customer, didnt know if she liked that; the fat bindings were delightful, even if the Drake [Author] did go on and focused on Izril a lot.

 At any rate. It was not just because Yisame loved to read about [Thieves]and she didthat she had picked up that book before the adventure story she so dearly wanted to read.

 She wanted to use one of her Skills. She sat back, thinking on her beloved Lightning Thief, and this new Thief of Clouds.

 There was always the great [Thief] of any age. Like [Bandits], like anyone, really. Bloodfeast Raiders were the talk of Izril, the Thief of Clouds was the rising star to match the Lightning Thief, and Chandrar had its own set of famous criminals and rogues. However, to the reader who read the sensationalized ounts, Yisame had an obvious question.

 Who was the better [Thief]? Now, obviously this Thief of Clouds had not been seen explicitly stealing something as fast-moving and deadly as lightning. Yet Yisame wondered if, just maybe, the Thief of Clouds had anciry Skills that would triumph over a direct-theft [Thief] like the famous Lightning Thief. What ifif say, the Thief of Clouds had been hired to steal the Eye of Baleros back from Thivian Stormless?

 Yisame tried to imagine it, conjuring her own rough image of the Lightning Thiefas a Stitch-man, though she knew he was Humanand a Gnoll as athletic as the story said. And Baleros? She imagineda jungle. A rocky fortress, angry Lamias with bows

 It wasnt good. It wasntplete; she had never been to Baleros, but seen images. Lamias and Gnolls werent as familiar to her. If you asked Yisame what armor Thivian Stormless was wearing, if any at all, if he had shoes, and so on, she wouldnt have been able to tell you. Her imagination focused on what mattered.

 And her Skill filled in all the gaps.

 [Sublime Daydream].

 Suddenly, Yisame smelled Baleros. It was wet. Rain had just fallen and it was on the thick vegetation. She could inhale the rich nt matter, some decaying from the heavy rainfall, feel the earth under her one bare foot, missing the slipper. She felt something try to bite her, and swatted it away. Just in time to see

 Who are you?

 Thivian Stormless leapt to one side, swearing, head turning as angry Lamias screamed, aiming bows at him. Yet the Gnoll who had blurred forwards made them hold their fire. He had a fearless grin, and was far younger than the Lightning Thief.

 The Thief of Clouds. Yisame saw the Duhan, Here, turning, bogged down in the wet terrain.

 Whos this, Thivian? Youre not paying me to fight another adventurer!

 Hes not an adventurer. Hes

 The Lightning Thief cursed, and suddenly thick fogno, a cloudrolled over everything. The wet haze made Yisame stumble forwards to see. She saw two shapes burst through the fog, hands blurring.

 The Thief of Clouds!

 Thivian shouted, enraged. Yisame gasped as the two emerged, hands locked around a single glowing object that shone like a lighthouses magical beacon.

 The Eye of Baleros.

 -

 Of course, it wasnt the actual Eye of Baleros, and that had never happened. It was a daydream. Yisame made up their appearances and Skills, but even so, it was like she had been there.

 For seventeen glorious minutes, Yisame watched the two [Thieves] sh, filling in the Skills they might have, what might ur, with what shed read about them. Then it ended and she sat up.

 Soso amazing. [Cloudburst Theft]! That might be a Skill! And when he grabs the Eye of Baleros

 She strode over to the desk in her library, sat down, and furiously began to scribble down some of the things shed seen. Yisame was a [Queen], a [Reader], anda [Writer].

 Level 8. Nothing special. She wrote her own adventure stories. Nothing publishednot even close to that. But sometimes it burst out of her and she could not help but put it down to words. She hadnt even shown the [Reader]-[Prostitute] who smuggled her books her writings on Thivian; Yisame had written a lot on the Lightning Thief.

 The point was, this was what Yisame lived for each day. Imagining great adventures, losing herself in the printed word.

 She wanted to be Level 30. She wanted it so bad she could almost taste the new Skill she might get.

 The problem for Yisame was that she could not use her Skill on her own meager writings; there were limits. As a low-level [Reader], many of her Skills were confined to literature, which meant bound and sold books of a distribution of at least 1,000. Esoteric tomes, spellbooks, were also out of reach. For now.

 Someday, though, shed make her own writingse to life. Yisame envisioned her [Sublime Daydream] Skillsting for an hour, maybe even letting her interact with the stories, rather than be the observer. When she had first gotten it, bugs hadnt bitten her; there had been only sight and sound, not smell and feel.

 Mind you, she had some, ah, guilty pleasures. Yisame blushed to think of it, but there was a section of more licentious tales, some hearsay, some actually based on fiction. Her Skills worked on those books, but the truth was, she was now addicted to stories in her time.

 The Lightning Thief was all very well and good and she got a good hour out of painstakingly writing her new story idea down, but she went back to Book #31,129 of Tales of Adventure and Woe. She flipped through it, bookmarking the Stargnoll forter, until she came to the part she had personally witnessed on the scrying orb.

 The Last Stand of the Horns of Hammerad. A Vige of the Dead short story by Heartyi.

 Yisame frowned at the name. There were two Vige of the Dead stories, one by an Izrilian [Author] who had apparently interviewed the teams and had blow-by-blow ounts. She was less interested in that, having re-watched the battle many times.

 This? This wasfiction. Yes, definitely. Heartyi was a new [Writer] that Yisame didnt like. Mainly because her works had been turning up in books like this. She wrote romantic fiction. Yisame wrote her own fiction, but she had yet to get the Lightning Thief short stories published. Sandquen was her pen-name, incidentally.

 Hmf. So. What has she written this time?

 Yisame critically opened the short story. One of her Skills activated.

 [Total Immersion: Literature].

 And then she was there. Rain was falling over the Vige of the Dead. Because she had seen them, heard their voices, Yvlon, Pisces, Ksmvr, and Ceria were all there, right in front of her.

 Yisame experienced the scene on one level like that. On the other, she was still reading the words set down by the writer. Quality did matter, so bad writing could take you out of the story, just like good writing took you in. She saw the four look back.

 The undead wereing. The bone giants, zombies, and Draugr were flooding back the way theyde. A vast, writhing massa Wailing Pit rose up, voices singing in discordant harmony. The Horns were wounded, determined to reach the center. Yetall that remained in the center was a greater death.

 Undead with glowing eyes rose out of the ground. A vast skeleton Dragonnded, roaring, and the Gold-rank team saw there was no way out. Undead from behind. Undead ahead. The Antinium, Ksmvr, spoke, resting a hand on his shortsword.

 I shall serve until I fall, my boon friends. Go ahead without me. Comrade Pisces, what are you doing?

 His head turned. The Antinium blinked as the [Necromancer], Pisces, in his torn white robes, broke away from the romantic kiss with the golden-haired woman with silver arms. Their tempestuous embrace broke away as

 Yisame blinked. What?

 What?

 As the [Necromancer] lustily made out with his oft-hated foe, the [Knight] broke away, her cheeks flushed carmine with desire and the illegality of their actions. It was the wisest of the four, the half-Elf, who stole her gaze skyward again.

 I will hold off the undead. Go! Run, you fools! Run!

 Her envisioning of the scenebroke apart as Heartyis ount failed to match up with what she, Yisame, believed of the group. Clearly, the [Necromancer] and [Knight]Yvlon? She wasnt a [Knight]!were in a love affair that only came to the fore in thisst hour.

 They died in each others embraces; the [Necromancer] and [Knight], as the brave Antinium fellst of all, taking his own life as he realized hispanions were gone and there was nothing to protect. Yisame stared at the book.

 I hate you, Heartyi. Thats not what happened! Thethey clearly werent in love! Its Ksmvr and Yvlon! Thats the true pairing! Youyou!

 She raised the book to throw it, then put it down. Sourly, Yisame looked around. She needed some wine.

 -

 Not all books were winners. Yisame read as she sipped wine on her little sofa-seat. The book floated open in front of her, and the automatic page-turning spell flipped pages whenever she flicked a finger.

 Not having to hold a book meant you really could read at full leisure. This was the decadence of wealth. Rich-reading.

 The [Queen] sometimes wished all she needed to do was read. That she was a [Queen] of such a powerful nation meant this was only a hobby, for all it was something she was levelled highly in.

 In time, she would have to designate an heir, even if she herself never married, and oh, there had been attempts which she had beaten back. She might be deposed, her power might waneYisames goal was to reach a retirement that did not involve her death. And that was not a given, especially because a former [Queen] was a liability unless you made absolutely sure she would nevere back.

 She had been born into the wrong life. Not just because it didnt allow her time to read. Also because her dreams of these glorious heroes and protagonists of their stories were dashed. Because she was one of the few people who could actually meet the very people who were written about. That was a poor thing, incidentally.

 Never meet the heroes you read about. They were never as charming, as grand, asbrilliant as they seemed. Yisame knew this because she had read of the wrathful, yet visionary [Bandit Queen] who had taken over a nation. A water-wielding genius who had been expelled from Wistram, whose younger sister was one of the greatest [Pirates] in the world!

 That was the books ount. Yisames personal, first-hand experience? Less exciting. The Siren of Savere in real life was a [Thug], not some grand sorceress supreme, just like her sister was a[Pirate]. Not a [Pirate Queen] of yore.

 The King of DestructionYisame thought of him and closed her eyes bitterly.

 She had met him as a girl and he had seemed the stuff of stories. When he rode through Nerrhavias Fallen with his armies, he had been the legend in flesh. The man to unite Chandrar, to make other continents tremble. She had needed no books then, but she had read every story of him and been a fan.

 Many Stitch-Folk had, Yisame believed. They had loved him.

 Right until he fell into his slumber and his kingdom shattered and put her in fear of her life. Half her family had died in the chaos; the suzerain, her step-uncle had tried to shield her. Or had he been treacherous as rumor said?

 People suffered because when the King of Destruction abandoned his dream, everything copsed. Yisame had lived through days of actual backstabbing, fought and wormed her way into the throne as her family died or fell victim to their own schemes. In a way, her survival had been because she had retreated to read books rather than make gigantic ys that backfired. The squabbling factions had seen a decent leader in her and backed her, rather than let the disorder doom everyone. And that had led tonow, really.

 Her sister was a prisoner in her own pce and arguably happier than Yisame. Her step-brothers, all three of them, were formally abdicated [Princes], each of whom had sprawling families with tenuous ims to the throne. It wasnt bad mostly; it was just life as usual in Nerrhavias Fallen.

 But the cracks were starting to show. Yisames twotest failures, neither of which was really her fault, might be her death or downfall. She had seen it happen before.

 Yisames eyes watered. She didnt want that. She saw herself lying in bed, a dagger protruding from between her breasts, open-mouthed, vacantly staring upwards like her mother. She didnt want to die.

 She wanted to live and read books andexperience the truth of them. Just once. She wanted to live a story like the ones she loved. But she was too powerful.

 Empress Nsiia, the Empress of Beasts had been there when the King of Destruction rode on conquest; had even fought by his side as a girl. There were stories of her, too. The wild queen who rode a Grand Elephant and was as great a warrior as she was beloved.

 She had been almost the stuff of stories, dashing, fearless. Yisame had feared she would not be, but the one time they had met face-to-face at Pomle, she had been what the stories made of her.

 If only Yisame had not looked at her and seen how she held a storys life in her hands. And for Nerrhavia, the courts, her own safetyshe had damned Tiqr. There was no choice.

 I should not be more powerful than stories.

 The [Queen] whispered quietly. In those times, when she seemed too much a giant in her own skin, she went far back. Before the modern day, and pulled out the truly old books she had collected. Her hands trembled as she touched a book so old the protective enchantments had faded, been restored, faded, and been restored many times over. She opened it and read aloud, trying to see the faded, mostly destroyed artwork.

 They gathered in grave conve, the Dragonlords four. Never again would so manye together. Not once; nevermore.

 She wished she knew what was actually said. They were Dragons, yes. Chandrars mortal enemies, tyrants, of a surety. Yisame stroked the books binding. Even so. She read the next passage.

 So came he of wrath and greatest fame. The arrogant, kind, Dragonlord of me. Teriarch be his name.

 Old stories. But no one lived who knew such names, beyond the written word.

 Well, maybe the Quarass did. But thest one hadnt been the wise ruler of a thousand souls. She had been a wretched woman.

 The [Queen] sighed, closed her eyes, and closed the book. She loved this ce. But inevitably

 She had work to do.

 -

 Yisame lounged on the throne, reying a book in her head. She was so bored that the Seat of Words barely contained her; she was threatening to slump out of it.

 Perhaps a refreshment in the water would suit your Majesty?

 Unless you give me a book, go drown yourself in the pool. Yisame smiled at one of her friends, the [Emira] Desulte.

 We are concerned with the affairs of the state. Now is not the time to rx, regretfully.

 It looked bad if she rxed while everyone was struggling to rece Alked Fellbow. Yes, he was one Named Adventurer, but he was the one who killed so many monsters that it freed up [Soldiers] for the armies. But because no one valued him enough, he was gone! Hemp or not, this was not Yisames fault, but whoever decided to pay him less than the Silk adventurers!

 She had never even met the Named Adventurer. Yisame listened to the bickering, hiding her glower behind a smile.

 Then, as if someone had done a [Flying Jump Kick] to her face, Yisame started. She rose slightly from her throne as one of the many conversations she generally ignored permeated her ears.

 What?

 Did someone mention theAntinium presence in Illivere?

 Those around her looked confused and Yisame realized the Seat of Words had amplified a distant conversation. She honed in on the speakers, a pair of young nobles.

 Prince Zenol is returning. Since he isnt a Named Adventurer, he must have a good excuse.

 Yisame heard the two snigger and recalled that one of the many [Princes] of Nerrhavias Fallen had been at the Vige of the Dead. The young man sipped from a cup.

 I am telling you, it must be the Antinium in Illivere truly is that one from Izril! The Vige of the Deads raid! What was its name?

 Ksmvr. Ksmvr of the Horns of Hammerad. [Skirmisher]. Prognugator of the Free Antinium, exceptionally interesting, probably in a rtionship with Yvlon Byres.

 KissKisel? Ksmever? I dont know their wretched names, Lamistu. So that thing actually survived? But why Illivere? Couldnt it be another one?

 Ksmvr!

 Yisames eyes opened wide. The young man scratched at his chin as she opened her fan with a snap. One of her [Attendants] looked up and hurried over.

 Well, maybe the Human in the Arena of Rust really is the same one. Silver Arm. The recordings something, isnt it? Here, let me figure out how you re-y it

 Your Majesty?

 The [Attendant] leaned over. Yisame whispered behind the fan.

 Those two over there. The two young men. They are watching something and referred to an Antinium in Illivere. Find out what that is. Fetch me a recording.

 The [Attendant] blinked, but bowed at once and hurried to find the [Captain of the Royal Guard]. Yisame watched her actions send a ripple through the court.

 She was interested in the two young men, which meant everyone else was. They broke off their conversation as a beaming [Emir] strode over. Startled, they nced at the throne, and began to whisper, confused, nervous. More figures turned from their conversations as word spread that Queen Yisame wanted to know what was happening. By the time the [Captain of the Royal Guard] made his way over to enquire, the topic of court had shifted.

 Your Majesty is interested in Illivere today?

 The [Spymaster] approached Yisames throne cautiously. He took it to be a sign she was redirecting conversation politically towards Illivere. Yisame could almost see his brain working.

 Was she making a move to have Nsiias captivity shifted to Nerrhavia by making the Illivere topic a priority? Was it that or deflecting from the Djinni debacle? Perhapshad she decided to transfer the Tiqr upation forces to Illivere for concessions, say, Golems?

 Yisame just wanted to know about Ksmvr.

 We are told an Antinium has appeared in Illivere, [Spymaster] Zenm. That surely cannot be, can it?

 His eyes flickered, trying to keep up with her machinations. In the end, he smiled warily.

 Of course. We had brought it up, I believe, but the Djinni-incident urred around the same time. A single Antinium. An adventurer.

 From the Vige of the Dead? Truly?

 Had she missed it by zoning out all the time? Yisames interest disconcerted the [Spymaster]. It was clearly feigned, but what was she up to? He bobbed a nod.

 Of course, your Majesty. I can present you with all the relevant documents. I do believe it is the same adventurer from the Vige of the DeadMagus-Crafter Femithain seems to believe so, at any rate.

 We see. Then we shall peruse a full report within the hour, [Spymaster].

 She waved him away. The mans jaw opened and closed; he hadnt expected her to actually ask for a report. He hurried away, trying to figure out what this betokened. The rest of the other factions watched, equally wary, as Yisame was presented with what the two young men had been looking at.

 A recording of the diatorial events, Your Majesty. The Arena of Rust, I believe. A smaller arena.

 We do so enjoy watching such sports, my loyal [Captain]. Pray, y it before us all.

 The [Royal Captain] raised his brows; he was aware Yisame hated the diator matches since he never had to escort her to any. But it fit with the courts image of her, so many people gathered to watch. Yisame stared down at a recording and then her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. She nearly removed one to check the stitching.

 The one-armed woman charged the Champion of Rust, screaming so loud it was faintly audible over the roar of the crowd. Her arms morphed into silver pincushions. Yisame saw Yvlon Byres staring at her blood-soaked hand as the stunned audience looked down at her.

 Then the [Silversteel Armsmistress] turned. The recording of her first bout, freshly copied over to the pce that day, showed what happened next.

 Yvlon Byres let the Champion of Rust flee back to the gates. She dragged up his axe, raised it overhead, and to the stunned [diators], prisoners, and crowd, bellowed up at the sky.

 I am Yvlon Byres of the Horns of Hammerad! I have been unjustly imprisoned! Come hither and lie about my deeds, attack me, or nder me and I will rip your heads off in self-defense, you spineless cowards.

 So saying, she raised the enchanted axe overheadand began to charge the remaining [diators]. Her twopanions stared after her as the [Armsmistress], who had just defeated the Champion of Rust, went after the rest.

 The [diators] of the Arena of Rust took one look at her and ran for it. So did the prisoners. Yisame watched for a good minute as the Human woman ran around the arena, chasing a school of frightened fishsome of whom tried to climb the walls of the arena to escape.

 Silver-Killer! Silver-Killer!

 Yvlon Byres only gave up when the crowd, cheering her name, began to apud. She stomped towards the gates, tossing the axe down to wild cheering.

 Thisthis was this morning?

 The Queens voice trembled slightly. The rest of the court was chuckling; some looked bored, others connected the events at the Vige of the Dead and were mildly interested. Yisame?

 The [Queen] of Nerrhavias Fallen looked at the angry Human. The very angry woman whose entire reaction to surviving a raid and near-death scenario and being teleported across the world somehow was toe out swinging, spitting hellfire and vengeance and trying to push everyones face in within arms reach.

 She waseverything Yisame wanted at this moment. She was an attitude in and of herself.

 And another disaster waiting to happen. If one of the Horns of Hammeradno, twowere in Chandrar and one was a [diator] in an arena shouting she was falsely imprisoned? It was going to be another bad look.

 Yisame thought about all this in the time it took her hand-fan tozily waft scented air at her face two times. Then she smiled.

 How entertaining. We do so enjoy such disys. Commend the two who brought such entertainments to court. We should focus on such great martial disys. After all, did not Mars the Illusioniste from the arenas? Let us look for talent there.

 The court susurrated. People exchanged nces. Oho! So that was the [Queen]s n, was it? A few [Generals] murmured. Rece Named Adventurers and train up their [diators] into war-leaders? Not a bad n.

 How savvy. A clear response to the Fellbow crisis. Yisame smiled knowingly as her court turned on her words. She waited an hour, reying her favorite writings on The Knights of House Byres and the Silver Dragon in her head. Then she made her real move.

 -

 The [Chancellor of Coin] was not a fool. Like everyone he employed truth spells as a matter of course. Yisame knew that. So when she lied, she did it with the truth. That was basic.

 I am having the [Spymaster] investigate the issue, Chancellor. However, I would hate for it to be another crisis in this fraught time.

 She used I as a sign of familiarity, and because they were holding an intimate court. The [Chancellor] nodded, eyes flickering to her, to the [Royal Captain], and back to Yisame.

 Naturally, your Majesty.

 I would like you to look into it. I am certain the [Spymaster] prefers to work alone, and he has expressed a desire to keep the affairs of state separate, but

 The [Spymaster] and [Chancellor of Coin] were long-time rivals. They sometimes shed, and the [Chancellor]s twitch made Yisame smile. He thought the [Spymaster] had asked her to keep it private and the [Queen] was simply worried.

 Lies in truth.

 AhI respect the [Spymaster]s will, your Majesty. But if it harkens to the affairs of coinit is only natural my people should be involved.

 So I believe! And so I will say to him. But

 Yisame trailed off delicately. The [Chancellor] was practically dancing to rush off.

 Whichwhich affair are you speaking of, your Majesty?

 He did not like to admit he didnt know. Yisame feigned surprise.

 TheHorns of Hammerad incident? Miss Yvlon Byres? We cannot have a world-famous Gold-rank adventurer falsely imprisoned. I heardmma [Magistrate] was involved?

 Her informationworks were far, far weaker than either the [Chancellor]s or her [Spymaster]s, but Yisame could still trace the criminal links that had put Yvlon in court and assigned her to the Arena of Rust. She did not mention Magistrate Ducaz.

 She did not have to. The [Chancellor]s eyes narrowed. If a [Magistrate], technically in his domain, was to be found to be corrupt, the [Spymaster] would certainly use it against him.

 I thank you for your concern, your Majesty. Rest assured, my people will look into it. Please inform the [Spymaster] that this is an affair of the treasury and

 Yisame tuned him out. She smiled, nodded, saw him practically sprint off to cover his back, and then summoned the [Spymaster] in her private bedchamber. The first thing she did was turn to him with a worried frown.

 Zenm, I promised the Chancellor of Coin that I would leave this matter to him, but the situation with the adventurer concerns me.

 The [Spymaster] blinked, then hurried to reassure Yisame that he would of course look intowhat was the [Chancellor of Coin] iming he was doing, again? He was gone so fast Yisame thought she saw an afterimage.

 The [Queen] stretched, then rang a bell for one of her servants. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she was reading a thrilling adventure novel. Yet she was in the middle of one. She was not a helpless [Queen].

 One of her [Servants] appeared, bewildered; Yisame would normally have been resting at this hour, or rather, reading a book.

 Your Majesty?

 It is time, Esxeria.

 T-time, your Majesty?

 The [Attendant] was confused. Yisame pped her hands, smiling regally. The thing about lies and perception was that sometimesyou could do exactly what people expected you to.

 I have a mind to visit the arenas. In disguise. Have the [Royal Captain] prepare a suitable escort. And fetch me the [Arena Master]. I have heard of a wonderful new [diator]

 Her heart was pounding so very quickly. The [Avid Reader] rose.

 Stories. A story hadnded in her kingdom. All thoughts of treachery, danger, were forgotten. She was just the reader who got to meet the truth behind the legends. She had to know. Were all the Horns of Hammerad alive? What had passed, truly passed, in the Vige of the Dead? Had they reimed any treasure? Was it just Yvlon and Ksmvr, or were there more?

 What would happen next?

 -

 Yvlon Byres, the Silver-Killer, Silver Arm, the Champion of Rust, and Gold-rank adventurer or somethingsat in her crappy cell next to Rexel and Leprel. They were upset. Yvlon was upset, but that was because she was sick, clogged up, and feverish. She sat, grinding her teeth, until she had to say it.

 Hey. Rexel. Arent we supposed to be rich and famous by now?

 Yvlons sarcastic tone made the [Storm Bandit] jump. Rexel opened her mouththen had to re.

 We would be, if you didnt try to punch the [Guards] and the [Arena Master]!

 Yvlon folded her armswell, she folded her metal arm across the chest and made a simr pose with her jagged metal arm. It was regrowingbut very slowly. She could morph it into a weapon, but it took energy and concentration.

 And she was sick. Tired. And she didnt like this cell. Mind youat least it was quiet.

 The [Prisoners] and low-ranked [diators] all stared at Yvlon in silence. The Silver-Killer had left a mark in her debut battle. It just hadnt elevated her as Rexel and Leprel had hoped.

 You had to attack the guards! You just had to! Were not even sponsored!

 Leprel moaned. Yvlon twitched.

 So? I beat the Champion of Rust.

 You poked out his eye and stabbed him! Thats not the same as killing!

 The Human woman hesitated.

 Thats not bad enough?

 Its just an eye. He can rece it in a minute!

 The [Armsmistress] and the [Thief] clearly had different views on serious wounds. Yvlon rememberedStitch-Folk. She growled.

 But I did beat him.

 Hes alive. Hell exact vengeance. Next time hell have you cuffed or fight you in a flooded match. With a bow, while you have lead weights around your ankle. You should have stopped after you beat him! Now everyones your enemy.

 Rexel rocked back and forth. Her stomach hurt, but that was nothingpared to Yvlon. The Gold-rank adventurer knew she wasnt well.

 Well figure it out. I wasangry.

 Yvlon muttered. She stared around the cell. The [Gambler], the third prisoner whose name Yvlon kept forgetting, was squeezed into a corner as if trying to get out.

 Im not going to hurt you. You can stop doing that.

 III know that!

 The [Gambler] tried to smile at Yvlon. The blonde-haired woman sighed. She tried to smile, but the grimace of pain made her re. She stood up and everyone in the cell flinched. But Yvlon just rapped on the cells bars.

 Hey. I need to use the restroom.

 An [Arena Guard] came by quickly. The prisoners watched in silence as Yvlon was led out in wooden handcuffs, with a nervous squad around her. Only when the Silver Menace was gone did they begin talking.

 Shes going to snap. Youre going to get us all killed, Rexel. Oh, dead gods, why did I trust you?

 Leprel moaned, banging her head on the floor. Rexel was licking her lips.

 We can still survive. Shes sickwe need a [Healer]! But we cant get one because she messed up any chance of getting a patron!

 Hasnt she gone six times today?

 One of the new [diators] in the cell across from theirs called out nervously. Not in actual sympathy for Yvlon; more like a fellow prisoner trapped in a room with a ticking time bomb. Rexel nodded.

 I think shes in trouble.

 What happens if something gives?

 In the toilet?

 No. What happens if she snaps?

 The diators in their cells thought about that. Silently, they began looking for holes to erge, or escape holes for when the Silver-Killer went on her rampage.

 -

 Of all the unpleasant things to happen to her, Yvlon would have said getting my arm ripped off or fighting a rot-monster undead in the Vige of the Dead was one of the most traumatic.

 Somehow, though, not being able to have a sufficient bowel movementany bowel movementwas quickly moving up the list. It was not something you talked about in polite conversation. But the truth was

 Nothing wasing out. And it had been days. Yvlon had not participated in a match after the first debut. Sotwo days of training and limation here, plus a day and a half of transit. Plus another day and into mid-morning today

 Damn it.

 She was sweating, clutching her stomach, and sitting in the stinking privy for the low-ss [diators]. Yvlon Byres hated a lot of things.

 The Champion of Rust. The arena. Her imprisonment.

 And her new ss. [diator]. Level 3! It made no sense. She was already a [Warrior]getting a second ss in that vein shouldnt happen.

 It was because she had to be one. Yvlon gritted her teeth.

 Dead gods damn it! Im going to kill something!

 A woman sitting in the stall next to Yvlon was finding it very hard to do her own business. It was liketrying to pee next to a rabid bear with a silver arm. In theory it was easy, but not right next to one. She rapped on the stall next to hers.

 Can we trade ces?

 No. Shut up!

 Yvlon Byres sat there for another minute. Then three. She heard a tinkling sound. She could drink and pass water, butshe thought she knew exactly what the problem was. The problem wassomething had toe out or shed die! This was not how she wanted to die, but the Champion of Rust was still alive! She was sick, missing an arm, her team was gone and she couldnteven

 Graaaaaaaah!

 The wham in the bathroom made the [Guards] and [diators] sharing the space all jump. The [diator] in the stall next to Yvlons stared at the metal fist that had just punched through the wood next to her face.

 She fled screaming at the top of her lungs. Yvlon Byres sat in her stall as the others were evacuated. She emerged a minuteter as the very nervous guards took her back to her cell.

 No joy. So it was with the worst mood possible she saw the [Arena Master], standing behind a double-rank of [diators] and [Guards], trying to smile at Yvlon.

 Ah, the Silver Arm herself. Good, good. These two are part of your team, yes?

 Rexel and Leprel were standing in front of the guards; the [Gambler] was hiding in her cell. Yvlon froze. Her hand clenched and the others tensed.

 What are you doing with them?

 The [Arena Master]s smile was sweaty. He edged behind thergest [diator] and called out.

 Calm, Silver Arm! Calm. It is not time for an arena match yet. You may not even be fighting in my Arena, thank Nerrhavias grave. Juse with us.

 Yvlon Byres eyes narrowed dangerously. She was on the edge of everything snapping. Death mighte for her since the [Guards] and [diators] were all armed and her entire body wasnt made of silversteel, butshe gritted her teeth so hard they nearly cracked.

 What are you doing with us, then?

 She tensed

 -

 And poked the duvet bedspread again. Yvlon Byres stared at the window with ss, no bars, and then at Rexel and Leprel.

 What?

 Thats your room, Silver Killer! Yvlon! This ones minelook at all the food!

 The [Storm Bandit] turned [diator] danced about,ughing. Yvlon stared at the table full of delicacies, then at the only indication this was even a cell; the enchanted door at the far end.

 But why?

 A patron! Someone saw the battle! We have a patron!

 Leprel exined again. The [Thief] was dripping with water; shed bathed for the first time since being caught. With scented soaps and shampoos!

 Patron. A [diator]s patron. Someone had seen Yvlon fight, reached out to the [Arena Master] andsuddenly their fortunes had changed. Yvlon stared around thefy suite, for the highest-ss [diators] in the Arena of Rust.

 Leprel and Rexel had been afforded the same suite, as they were on Yvlons team. Theyd been ready to deny all connections with her, but it seemed their faith had been rewarded. The [Thief] and [Storm Bandit] were high-fiving, investigating their quartersRexel gasped.

 They even have spare parts! Look!

 She had found some pieces of cloth. Arms, legsa [diator]s recement bodyparts. Some were higher-quality than her own cloth, so she began trying to undo the strings on her arm.

 Leprel, help me put this arm on! It looks way better than mine!

 I hope this is to your satisfaction, Miss Byres?

 A voice from the door made all three turn. Rexel and Leprel stopped and Yvlon looked at the [Arena Master]. He was still wary of her, but he smiled with all the insincerity in his body.

 Thank you for the amodations.

 Yvlon meant not a word herself, but the Stitch-man just grinned at her.

 A [Patron] was very generous. I would advise you to rest up and take full advantage of the facilities of the Arena of Rust, Miss Byres. It will notst long.

 The [Armsmistress] felt a warning tinge in her stomachor maybe it was just another sign she needed relief.

 Why not?

 Because you will not be fighting in my arena. Oh, no. You have been elevated. The capitals arena waits for you after what you did to the Champion of Rust.

 Leprel and Rexels faces were awestruck and terrified. Yvlon just grunted.

 Wonderful. Morefort for more danger?

 The [Arena Master] shook his head. He was an older man, in his sixties. He gave Yvlon an insulted look past faded eyes and his own scars.

 Many would die for such a chance. You are an adventurer, arent you, Miss Yvlon? In the capitals arena, there is ample chance for glory and improvement. Even a Gold-rank adventurer might petition to join the ranks of the [diators] there! You can win more than freedom;st three matches and you could well free yourself! For the best, glory and great treasures await. Permanent employment! Fame! Mars the Illusionist came from those very sands!

 His little speech made Yvlon blink. Only three matches? The [Arena Master] snorted at her expression.

 Do you think the [diators] there are [ves]? You may not like my arena, Silver Arm. But you have a Patron and bested the Champion of Rust. Try to enjoy the amenities. Ohand as proof, here. That is for you.

 He pointed around the suite the three had been given. Spare bedrooms, bathing rooms, a stockedrder, even a kitchen and quick ess to anything the [diators] wanted, from a massage to training and personal [Trainers] and so on. Yvlon Byres looked past the table set with treats like caviar from the sea and a fat, roasted duck, to a single stoppered bottle. As the [Arena Master] stepped out, she walked over to it and read the note left there.

 Potion of Incontinence. If it does not work, a [Healer] will attend to you.

 Rexel peered over her shoulder and whistled.

 Wow. [Alchemists] do make everything.

 -

 The thing wasshe was in better condition than before. Yvlon stopped sweating. She foundrelief.

 Rexel and Leprel decided to eat with the other [diators] and give Yvlon a lot of space, especially since the woman didnt emerge from the bathroom where she had been located for over forty minutes. They decided they did not want to hear, smell, or see anything. Especially after they heard her muttering.

 Gah. This is disgusting. Im

 I regret everything.

 Dead gods. Thisis not

 Yes, it was disgusting. Yes, you could be immature about it and make jokes. It was a fact of life. The fact that Yvlon took all the soaps that had been provided, buckets of water for her bath, and spent nearly an hour and twenty minutes in the bathroom was testament to the ordeal.

 Not least, of reaching into that hole and fishing around. Gagging,boriously washing, washing, washing, and regretting every decision that had brought her that far. Yetit had been necessary.

 Magistrate Ducaz was a bastard. Poor luck hadnded Yvlon in his clutches. He had wanted to steal her treasures, but of course, he had found none. Even after an invasive strip search.

 He hadnt found anything but the magical items that were her gear; paltrypared to what he wanted to have found. And the magic in Yvlon herself.

 She boiled some water and rinsed everything, including herself, a sixth time. Yvlon breathed out, a shuddering breath.

 If it had been one day earlier, and I had to exin this in the mass jail

 She had her mysterious benefactor to thank, she supposed. Yvlon felt calmer. She shook her head. Ducaz had clearly not read enough books on adventurer basics, because hed fallen for one of the oldest tricks in their books. Not that Yvlon had ever met anyone whod actually pulled off the routine, but

 It turned out swallowing relic-ss artifacts was not a fun ordeal. Passing them? Yvlon forborement.

 Nevertheless. She stared at the pair of magical rings and two spell scrolls that were absolutely clean, and somehow, undamaged from their long voyage. Yvlon Byres remembered where shed seen themst.

 Right on the workbench belonging to the greatest [Necromancer] of his era. The Putrid One.

 Everyone had stolen something. Yvlon Byres eyes glinted. She wondered where shed hide the two rings and scrolls next. Swallowing themno. Not again. She wasnt willing to try out any of the four, even if she could activate them.

 Even so. She clenched one hand.

 This had better be important. Or I am going to killsomeone.

 She sat in her glorified cell, waiting for a time to get back to the people and things that mattered. Yvlon Byres had no notion that her story had already changed. Or rather, an enthusiastic [Reader] was helping her reach her fullpotential.

 The Silver-Killer had a fan. She also needed a better nickname.

 -

 It was how they saw you that mattered. Almost as much as who you were. Which was insulting, if you thought about it. Sometimes people thought you were a hero or better than you actually were. More evil, too. They had an image in their heads and if you werent 100% spot on, they got mad. As if it was your fault, not theirs.

 What did they see you as? What did you want to be seen as?

 One of the Horns of Hammerad sometimes thought about that. She had her own fan. Someone who looked at her with wide eyes, as if they were looking at a walking legend. Which she was to this little ce. But he expected her to do somethingshe had no idea what.

 The rest of her team could have answered him better. In the time shed spent healing, resting, rebuilding her damaged source of power, she imagined her team would have done more.

 YvlonYvlon would have probably been lifting entire houses with her arm, demonstrating her strength in some way. Or just have stormed off within a day of nearly dying of dehydration and heatstroke.

 Pisces would probably have animated half the vige of Nerhs graveyard, nearly gotten lynched, and then snootily pointed out that now there was freebor and security in that way that made you want to strangle him.

 Ksmvr wouldannex the nearest local tree for his burgeoning dukedom of trees. Which would take some doing since Ceria had only seen runty little nts, not full trees like back in Izril. Then he would do something strange, like wipe out the [Bandits] that were apparently torching viges. Or whatever was out there.

 Ceria gave it a lot of thought. So, on the fourth day of her stay at Nerhs, Luaar, the son of the [Vige Head], Novethur, raced over when he saw the crowd around his home.

 Boys and girls, the small poption of his vige in the middle of nowhere, were pointing, seeing something. At <ist! The half-Elf [Cryomancer] was doing something! Luaar pushed forwards, needing to see. What had she done? Used her ice powers in some fantastic way? Put on the Relic-ss artifact? He fought to the front and saw

 Tada! Im a chipfmunf! Look hfw many I fit in my mouf!

 Ceria Springwalker turned, cheeks bulging with Yets. She did indeed resemble a giant half-Elf rodent, and she had fit no less than eight full Yets in her mouth, to the delight of the children, some of whom were rolling aboutughing. The adults too.

 Luaars betrayed look nearly made a Yete out of Cerias nose. She thought it was hrious.

 -

 Murderer!

 Again, she heard it at night and rose to pace around, restless. Nove, the [Vige Head], had given his entire hut over to her, but it was still too small.

 She walked out into the cold air of Chandrar at night. Hot by day, and cold by night. At leastshe was told it was cold.

 Ceria couldnt tell anymore. She was an [Arctic Cryomancer], and cold swirled around her like an invisible cloak, lowering the temperature of everything in a ten foot radius.

 It was cool around her at the edge of the invisible bubble, enough so that children sometimes edged over in the baking heat of the day, or the adults working the fields or crafting somethinglike the wicker baskets out of the tough roots and bushesasked Ceria to stay and chat.

 Closer to her, though, the aura of cold grew unbearably chilly. To the point where it could actually snow if there was enough water. Ceria could alter her aura to shrink or grow, but that took conscious effort. As Nerhs people had learned, you could freeze water by cing it next to her, hence their new, ice-based economy.

 All of this was fine by Ceria. Freezing people identally had been embarrassing, but if she really wanted elbow-room at a table, she got it. She didnt feel cold anymore, but that was a sign her mastery of ice-magic was deepening. Not a negative like Yvlon talked about her arms.

 Yvlon.

 Ceria exhaled and saw her breath emerge as a plume of frosty mist in the air. She feltdry. Still tired, but recovering fast from the Vige of the Dead. Her body was healing. Well, the healing potion and that Duhan-adventurers light had cured her of her wounds, but Ceria had been riding the back of the Frostmarrow Behemoth, taking earthshaking blows that knocked her about as she repaired it.

 Then shed been fighting the highest-level undead shed ever seenthe half-Elf winced.

 How am I still in one piece? I should be dead. Or at least, lost another hand.

 She waved around her skeletal hand for emphasis. Ceria stared at the bones, clicking and moving together in the absence of flesh. Now there was something out of stories for Luaar to stare at. And he did.

 I couldnt get [Iceflesh Hand] or something? Yvlon got two free arms.

 Ceria grumbled. Then she had a thought. Well, technically

 The [Cryomancer] stared at her hand. She pictured skin, a copy of her skin on her other hand, sliding over the bones, mimicking skin. It was a variation of [Frozen Armor], a spell she knew. But far more delicate; rather than a b of ice, it would have to be ice that flowed and moved every time she wanted to flex her hand.

 Exceptionallyplicated. Some might call it impossible, because ice was not water, and making it behave like that was foolish.

 Yet Ceria had known someone who could do that. With her face, no less. It had always been a bit stilted, but unless you knew Illphres, her old master, you would have been fooled. Colored ice.

 Ceria watched as a thinyer of frost crept over her bleached bones. She frowned, bit her lip

 Novethur, watching from the side, saw Ceria shrug and lower her hand. The frost coating it dissipated. She nced up, and the [Vige Head] was too slow to duck back behind the hut.

 Adventurer Springwalker.

 Master Novethur. Hello. Did I disturb you?

 The man shook his head as Ceria smiled and strolled over.

 Late night watch. All the adults take turns. Especially ofte

 Her eyes flickered. They had turned pale and light blue, like frost itself. Something else that didnt bother the half-Elf. She waswell, a pleasant guest. She ate a lot of Yets, but she had been amiable, pleasant, a gracious guest given the poor amenities, and she made everyoneugh.

 That was why Novethur didnt feel wary of asking her what shed been doing. Ceria rubbed the back of her head, self-consciously. Her features were half-Elven; pointed ears, fine blonde haira sense of immortality, only partially captured. She would live far longer than the rest of the vige of Humans, unless she died in battle or of sickness.

 That? Ohsomething I thought of. Ice recing skin. It didnt work.

 Is itan advanced spell?

 Novethur, as a [Vige Head], had ess to a very weak pool of mana, but higher-level [Vige Heads] were actually known to be on par with [Hedge Mages]. Ceria shrugged.

 Its not a spell. Call ita sign of mastery. I dont know if there is an enchantment that could permanently rece my skin like that. I can cover myself in ice and create a mask thats static. Living ice is harder.

 Livingice?

 Frost Elementals. I can create them, and I know there are creatures that are entirely made of ice in the northernnds. Maybe Chandrar too?

 Cerias eyes became distant. Novethur couldnt imagine it; ice was a luxury here, without powerful spellcasters like her. Even having free ice meant his vige was now considering refrigeration and eating shaved iceeven selling it to other settlements!

 Is such magic beyond you, then?

 Ceria blinked.

 No? I can probably do it. Or Im closemy master could, and she washigher level than me.

 Her face grew sad and her ears actually drooped a bit. But then Ceria smiled. Novethur recognized that. It was the kind of expression he made, when he talked about histe wife. It did not hurt less. But you had lived a while since then.

 The problem isnt control or expertise. Its uhits dry, here.

 Ceria gestured at her hand. Novethur blinked, and got it instantly.

 Ah. It surely is.

 He was used to the sensation, theck of moisture in the air and static charge that could umte. Ceria was not. She kept shocking herself on pieces of metal and she hated the feeling. She licked her lips, grimaced.

 Im out of my element. Literally. Ice-magic isnt water-magicsomeone from that school would be dying out here. But I need moisture. Most of my spells require some water, even if the ice itself is magical.

 Frustrated, she kicked at the ground. She would have practiced her new [Summon Lesser Frost Elemental] spell if she had the chance. Here?

 Novethur bowed slightly, as if this entire regionsck of water were on him.

 We do have the well, Adventurer Ceria. But

 I know. I can sense the water down there. Im not about to use up your livelihood. And my hands fine, see? Its actually really helpful when you cook. No burns. I can also poke anthills and they do nothing.

 The half-Elf had horrified all of Nerhs by trying their local insect varieties. Well, the children thought it was fascinating. Novethur smiled, and it was genuine.

 Will you be leaving soon, Miss Ceria?

 It was not a random question. The fact that she had the energy to stand up after a day of mild exercise told him she was mending. She had barely been able to keep her eyes open at first. Ceria nodded.

 If I can buy a horseyes, maybe tomorrow. If not? Id wait a day or two to get one. I know its the adventurer crawls in wounded, rides off into the sunset routine, straight out of the book

 Both of them had read the relevant handbook on adventurer-viger interactions and smiled. Ceria went on.

 but my teams out there and I need to find them.

 I understand. You have been very generous.

 And you saved my life. If you want more gold

 Ceria saw the slight shake of the head, and took her hand away from her money pouch. They stood together, half-Elf and [Vige Head]. Ceria admired the tndscape, seemingly inhospitable, and Nerhs itself, in the lee of the hill of dirt and stone that provided enough shelter to live in.

 A vige with no official ruler. Forsaken. Who would live here all their lives? Was Novethur happy, being king of an anthill?

 Ceria knew the answer, at least. She was 65no, was it 66 years old? She was already forgetting to count. Yes, she had passed some of that time in a half-Elven vige, but 60 years was stillsixty years. She was older than the rest of her team put together.

 She did not always feel it, but when she stood with the [Vige Head], she was older. When she was around Luaar or her team, she was younger. She could be both.

 It is a lovelynd. Dry. But your vige seems happy.

 Some of us long for greener, richernds. More levels. We are content here, though, Miss Ceria.

 Novethur nodded. Cerias vision wandered thendscape. She exhaled another cold plume of air which vanished into the violet, almost pitch-ck night sky dotted with glowing stars of every color.

 Thats what Humansnot you, the ones in Terandrianever got. Half-Elven viges. People think theyre exotic, beautiful ces. Some are. I heard theres an enve of my people in Chandrar. y Earth or something. Tree rot, I dont know. I heard they were snide and arrogant. All I know is that my vige wasnt impressive. And the Humans always wondered why we didnt improve it or make it fantastic to live in. Mind you, I ran away, but

 Novethur was listening, fascinated by the half-Elf from and apart. She nced up at him and grinned.

 They never got that it was fine as it was. Some half-Elves lived centuries drawing water from the same well, rather than having an enchanted bucket or water-conjuring spell.

 The [Vige Head] nodded. He understood.

 There was morefortable silence, then Novethur spoke.

 Luaar will be unhappy to see you go. He keeps wishing for you to cast a great magic.

 Cerias head turned slightly in the darkness. No torches at night; Novethurs eyes were adjusted to the darkness, and burning wood was a waste. If they needed a [Light] spell, they would have conjured it, but it could attract unwee attention from afar.

 Do you want me to? Ive been trying not to show off big magic. Children see that and they run off to be adventurers. Id rather be the goofy chipmunk.

 The Human man snorted.

 His disappointment will only be for a while. Thank you.

 Ceria nodded. Thats what shed thought. She listened, with all her might, and stretched her magical senses in every direction. But she saw nothing. Atst, she murmured.

 Theres one more thing. I might stay longer. These[Bandits]concern me. And that vige. You said no ones appeared from it? To the northeast?

 Novethurs stomach lurched and he nodded slowly. His head turned in that direction, but it was far out of eyesight.

 No word. Not that we have the [Mages] tomunicate magically, but I have heard of [Bandits]. Perhaps worse?

 He looked at her, but the monster-ying expert only shrugged.

 I cant guess from just silence. Lots of monsters could do that. People too.

 Of course.

 The [Cryomancer]s eyes glinted. She hesitated as she met Novethurs eyes.

 I can beat bandits. The question isam I going to bring down more danger on you by staying? I wasnt sure, but NovethurI think something is after me. Either my relic or from the Vige of the Deadsomeone is calling me murderer. I can hear it. You know what kind of trouble an adventurer can have following them.

 His skin crawled, and not from the cold. Novethur saw Ceria nce back towards the hut where the circlet she had taken from the Putrid Oney.

 Murderer?

 Yes. Im not sure whats causing it. If you want me to leave tomorrow, I will. Im happy to fight [Bandits]. But my entire team was nearly killed by the thing in the Vige of the Dead. And itsstill alive. We teleported out using a scroll. Ibet there are more of those scrolls.

 Novethur gulped. He looked at Ceria, but she was content to let him wait, gather her thoughts. In the darkness, the mans face wasnt really visible to Ceria. She saw him shift, foot to foot, nce back to his small vige of huts. Not a hovel; just not rich. A fine ce to live if you wanted that.

 Atst, he bowed his head.

 Tomorrow might be for the best. My apologies, Miss Ceria.

 She nodded, smiling slightly.

 Tomorrow it is.

 She went back to rest after that, and he went back to watching for threats. On the fourth day, Ceria slept.

 On the fifth, the [Bandits] came.

 -

 Festering tree slugs! Tree rot! Pisces sniffing nose!

 Cerias cursing in the quiet of Novethurs hut made Luaar less worried, somehow. She was tense, ring, a wand in her skeletal hand, but not afraid.

 He was. The vigers were in their homesall those who didnt have a bow, or pitchfork or other weapon. His father had a spear and buckler, and was facing down the [Bandits] who had rode up, nearly thirty strong, and whose leader had dismounted and was a hundred paces outside the vige and walking closer.

 The first bastard who fires an arrow we will kill! Dont be stupid, you lot!

 There were only thirty,pared to the hundred people of Nerhs, but in terms of a fighting force, they outnumbered and out-levelled the adults who had actualbat sses. Their leader was a bored-looking Stitch-woman who still contrived to stride forwards warily. She had a spiked shield raised; a curious design.

 Ceria was hidden with the others, watching as Luaars father faced the [Bandits]. She narrowed her eyes.

 Thats a razorcut design.

 W-whats that, Adventurer Ceria?

 Luaar had a cutting knife, and he was ready to fight. He tried to make his voice strong, but it kept shaking. The half-Elf nced at the boy. Her eyes found the knife, his wide-eyed gaze. She nodded at the [Bandit Leader].

 Spikes around the rim. That pointy thing in the center, see?

 Luaar peeked at the rounded shield, which had jagged leaves of metal sticking out around the rim and a central spike, just as Ceria said. The half-Elf groused.

 You run into someone with it, then p them with your shield if you get an opening. Its like having a shield and a de. Nasty weapon. Not a good sign shes got one.

 Why?

 Ceria was a Gold-rank, wasnt she? The half-Elf frowned as she stared at the shield.

 Because the shield breaks constantly. Its not enchanted. You always break an edge inbat. That shield-spike? Snaps off like you wouldnt believe. I had a friendGerialhe broke it in six battles running. It cost so much to repair he switched to a regr shield.

 Luaar didnt see why it mattered. Ceria did.

 Theyve got a [Smith] and the resources to maintain a shield like that. Or its new. Could bebut their horses look good. No missing saddles, no wear and tearthis is a professional group of [Bandits]. Damn.

 By all ounts, Ksmvr had taken on a decent group of [Bandits], but every seasoned adventurer knew that the quality of ouws varied. This group? They stood,ughing, talking, but alert. Theyd spread out from the vige to avoid area-attack spells, and they werent whooping or racing about, trying to terrify the people of Nerhs.

 It was apetent shakedown. The bandits representative stopped as Novethur moved out of the viges gates.

 We are prepared to defend ourselves if you attack, Miss. Nerhs is a peaceful vige, but we will not let you do what you please.

 The [Vige Head]s grip was firm on the spear. The [Bandit Leader] sized him up. She was chewing something, and looked bored. Nevertheless, her tone was brisk.

 [Vige Head], are you? Listen up, man. Were not going to plunder and destroy your vige. Theres no point. Heard about a group hitting settlements to the south and west? Thats us. Weve raided nine ces before yours and we have three to go to meet quota, so lets not waste time.

 Novethur hesitated. Ceria blinked, and her eyes narrowed. The leader gestured at the vige.

 We dont want to have to kill you all, burn your bodies, salt the soil, etcetera, etcetera. Its dangerous for us, and itpletely wastes time and money. Theres nothing to squeeze from rubble and dead bodies. If you run us off, and thats a big if, well juste back with twice the numbers and burn this ce down. So heres how its going to be. Well calcte an appropriate fee, you fork it over, and you dont see us for a few months.

 You want us to pay you protection?

 Novethur spluttered. The [Bandit] raised her brows. She was already waving someone out of the throng.

 Protection? No, were robbing you. Justwhats the word? Economically. Sustainable robbing.

 You expect to steal our wealth and expect us to trust you?

 An angry [Viger] with a bow had a spot on them from a watchtowerthe only one in Nerhs. Ceria winced; the woman had a bead on the [Bandit Leader]and nine [Bandits] would hit her if a firefight broke out. That watchtower was a death trap.

 The [Bandit] had the expression of someone whod had to do this all week. She pped her chest.

 Listen. Do you have a truth stone? Tell me you do. You can use it on me, or a Skill. I dont care. Im an [Enforcement Raider]not a [Piger]. Not a [Ravager] or the sses you dont want to see. You lot have been off the list of viges we regrly visit every few months for a while. Wesort of forgot you existed but someone found a map. Now were collecting. Youll see us every six months. If you see someone who tries to rob you before that, its not us and well probably have to hunt them down and make an example.

 Sothis is protection money?

 Novethur was very confused. The [Enforcement Raider] pinched at the bridge of her nose.

 No. This is a robbery. Protection implies we have to protect you, and the boss would hate that. Seetheres a fine distinction. We run offpetitors whod shake you down because well lose our money if youre having to pay off multiple groups. But were not protecting you from monster attacks or anything. Robbery. If you report it to the Adventurers Guild, please say robbery.

 Ceria Springwalkers jaw was hanging open. This was the strangest raid shed ever seen. Luaar himself was peeking out at the weird [Bandits], who were in their way, as disappointing as the adventurer. The bandits leader was arguing with Novethur and some of the other [Vigers] who had lost some of their fear due to the strange demands.

 No, shut up. This isnt a negotiation. We kill you if you resist, got it? Its just that were not stealing everything because youd fight to the death! Dead gods, I hate doing this with new ces. Hey! Wheres the coin-counter? Tell them what they owe and itll be simpler!

 Someone scurried out of the ranks of [Bandits] with distinctly less of a dangerous look. A womanined as she carried an abacus.

 Im not part of this! They make me do this! I am so sorry

 The [Enforcement Raider] aimed a kick at the woman.

 Shut up. See this? This is our [Corrupted ountant]. Shell calcte how much you can afford to give.

 Im not corrupt! Im doing this under duress!

 Its just a word. And it is your ss. Shut up. I have a headache and we have to go to two more viges after this! Twenty miles away by nightfall and then all the way back for a handful of gold

 The woman with the abacus was using Skills and peering around the vige. Novethur, who had been looking back at Ceria in hiding, and at the [Bandits], started. He stared at the [Enforcement Raider].

 Youyou came from the south? Not the north?

 The leader was yawning and checking the [ountant]s figures and grimacing. She nced up as she leaned on the other woman.

 No, no. I know you pulled their baseline ie for this year, and thats not worth the ride out here. I can smell theyve got actual gold, somehow. Try their ie for this month. See? Much higher. Why is that? Figure out whats different because if we miss out on actual goldwhat was that?

 She turned from the discussion of piging economics with her underling and frowned at Novethur. He licked his lips.

 You didnt raid the viges to the north? Two arethe two youre visiting. Merral-Devith and?

 I have no idea. Hey, whats the name of the vige were hitting next?

 The [Enforcement Raider] shouted back at her group and turned to face Novethur, suddenly alert.

 Whats wrong with those viges? Someone else hit them?

 He pressed his lips together. The [Enforcement Raider] took a step forwardsreconsidered as the vigers lifted their weaponsand went back to the [ountant].

 See here. If theres something to the north we dont want to run into, tell us now and well give you a discount on the first robbery. What is it? Monsters? Other [Bandits]?

 Novethur was ncing at the other [Vigers]. He was listening to the numbers the [ountant] was muttering and they were not pleasant ones to imagine paying. On the other hand, she wasnt aware of the half-Elf hiding in his home. Ceria could gift them enough gold to more than make up for this extortion. So Novethur lowered his spear, signalling for the others to do the same. He made up his mind. Fighting was ast resort, and if they were from where he thought, and if their boss was truly

 We dont know what came from the north. Two viges have gone silent. We thought it was other [Bandits].

 Not in our territory. Damn.

 The [Enforcement Raider] cursed. She looked north, and the [Bandits] groaned.

 Boss! Dont tell me were checking it out?

 Thats our job. Alright. Draw lots for scouting. Hey, idiot, got the sum for us to grab yet? I want a camp set up and scoutswere not going into those viges blind. Give them a ten gold discount for the info. Lets just rob these people, get moving and

 No one is robbing anyone.

 A voice rang out from the vige. Novethur closed his eyes. Ceria Springwalker started. She looked up from her crouched position. Then she swore.

 Luaar, no

 The boy was standing outside the hut, furious, holding his knife. He waved it at the [Bandits].

 You cant steal our gold! Youreyoure not stealing anything! We have a protector!

 Luaar, get inside!

 Novethur shouted. His hand tightened on his spear, but the [Enforcement Raider]s hand was already in the air.

 No one make a stupid move. Theres always the snotty brat. Were not going to kill him, so weapons down!

 She barked it at Nerhs vigers. The [Bandits] hadnt even moved. Novethur breathed as his head swung back to the [Bandits]. But Luaar was furious. He just saw the [Bandits]. He pointed at the hut where Ceria was hiding.

 We have a protector! Dont you dare threaten us or a Gold-rank adventurer will kill you all! Shes a powerful ice mage andulp

 Thatst sound was because someone had tossed a cup at him from inside the hut and smacked the back of Luaars head. The boy staggered, whirled around, and looked shocked. No one emerged from the hut, but the reaction on the [Bandits] side was dramatic.

 The [Enforcement Raider]s eyes had opened wide at the words Gold-rank adventurer. By the time Ceria threw the cup, she was halfway back to her group.

 Ambush? Its a damned adventurer

 Hold on! Hold on, it could be a bluff! Scatter! You heard him!

 [Cryomancer]? Here?

 By the time Ceria emerged, cursing, the [Bandits] had spread out even further, nking the vige around the hills. The [Enforcement Raider] took one look at Ceria and bellowed.

 Back it up! Its a Goldie!

 The [Bandits] instantly retreated another fifty feet. Ceria groaned. They could tell she was Gold-rankprobably some kind of threat-based Skill. And they werent running, which meant theyd fought Gold-ranks before.

 She strode towards the gates of the vige, but Luaar, dragged inside by one of the [Vigers], did not see what he had been expecting. In his head, the half-Elf faced down the [Bandits], hair blowing in the breeze, wand in her skeletal hand glowing with magic as they fledor fought and then fled.

 In reality? Ceria Springwalker poked her head around the gate, keeping her entire body behind the dirt walls.

 Hey! Im a Gold-rank adventurer! Thats right! Get lost! Neither of us wants to fight, right?

 The [Enforcement Raider] stared at Cerias head as it ducked back. She bellowed back.

 How many of you are there? Were you hired to go after us?

 Thats a secret! Attack and youll find out!

 The boy said just one. Sounds like a solo adventurer, boss. [Cryomancer] in this dry weather? Good as dead. We dont even need to call in reinforcements.

 A [Bandit Markswoman] opined. The [Enforcement Raider] nodded.

 Youre alone, Goldie! You heard us! Were not here to kill anyone! Just let us take our money and go! Dont make this hard!

 This vige is under my protection!

 A fist was extended and shaken in the air a few times.

 For how long?

 What?

 The [Enforcement Raider] took a swig of water to bellow again.

 How long? You run us off and welle back and take vengeance! You kill us and two hundred will be back! Just drop it! Its too hot to fight!

 She waited as the half-Elf thought about it.

 How about you skip this vige once? Then you cane back in uh, sixfour months!

 Oh,e on.

 The [Enforcement Raider] grumbled. There was a cry of consternation from inside the vige. The bandits looked at each other.

 Sort of tempting, boss.

 If shes going to wipe us outyou cant trust adventurers. Theyre crazy.

 Their leader rolled her eyes. No one wanted a fight, she was sure. That Gold-rank had been hiding until that brat outed her. She snapped at herpanions.

 Our boss will kill us all if we do that. No deal, Goldie! Just let us collectfourteen gold coins? Hey, thats not bad. Fourteen gold coins! You can probably pay that yourself!

 It was a reasonable request. There was a pause, then

 Fourteen gold coins? Im not payingback off or Ill st you to pieces! Want a taste of this? [Fireball]!

 Oh shit, scatter

 The [Enforcement Raider] saw the sh of light from the wand poking around the gate. She screamed an order, but then realized it was clearly a warning shot. The [Fireball] was aimed at the ground fifty feet away from the [Bandits].

 A glowing orb of woven fire coalesced with incredible speed and ferocity. A zing ball of light arced up andnded, whereupon the fiery strands expanded, creating an explosion of me and light. The [Fireball]conjured by an expert [Mage], not someone who had to take half a minute or longer that the [Enforcement Raider] was used to among her peopledetonated, and the thump of air and roar of sound echoed around off the hill Nerhs stood under.

 Bang.

 The [Bandits] got up from their cover, or stopped riding away. They looked back at the unfamiliar, weak sound that came from the pocket-sized detonation. The [Enforcement Raider] had seen [Fireballs] with a thirty-foot radius. Average sts were far smaller. This one?

 Four feet? She stared at the tiny crater in the sand. Ceria Springwalker herself stared at the explosion, and then her wand.

 It had been a while since she cast [Fireball], butthe [Arctic Cryomancer] cursed.

 Tree rot. Im too powerful an ice mage to cast fire spells? But I dont know [Lightning Bolt]!

 Novethur and the other [Vigers] were staring at Ceria. Luaars look of betrayed expectation from inside the hutCeria saw the [Bandits] reform. Their leader trotted forwards a dozen feet. Ceria saw them staring at her position. The half-Elf took a breath and then shouted.

 Okay! How about you get lost ande back in two months?

 The half-Elf waved a hand at Novethur as the [Bandits]ughed and jeered. She was asking for something. She pointed at his side. He jerkedlooked down, and tossed something over to her.

 Lets call it twenty gold, Goldie! And dont think you can bluff us. A [Cryomancer] in Chandrars as good as spit unless were on the coasts! And were far enough ind that

 The [Enforcement Raider] wasntughing, but she was more confident. She rode forwards, exasperated, wanting to get over this stupid waste of time. Then she jerked. She blurred left in her saddle, swore

 The [Bandits] saw the shard of ice sh past their leader, curve, and fly back the way it hade. The [Enforcement Raider] pped a hand to her cheek. She had actually dodged the wrong way, and the shing [Ice Spike] had nearly killed her.

 Ceria called back the single [Ice Spike] shed shot out. The frozen waterfrom Novethurs water skhovered in the air as the [Bandits] lost theirughter. She poked her head out and a thinyer of frost began to coat the walls of Nerhs vige and the ground.

 Get. Lost.

 The [Bandits] went silent. They looked at the [Enforcement Raider]. She had been chosen for her job out of the many, really, thousands of people who could have filled her role because she was not a hot-tempered leader who would destroy a vige.

 Even so. She was a [Raider]. And she had nearly died. True, Ceria had aimed off and it had been an ident the [Enforcement Raider] nearly dodged into the [Ice Spike], but

 The [Enforcement Raider] sshed some healing potion on her hand, pped it over her cheek, and bent down to talk to the [Bandit Markswoman].

 Get the scroll out and tell the boss weve got a problem. Hey! Half-Elf!

 She bellowed back at the vige. Ceria Springwalker poked her head out.

 What?

 Thirty gold!

 Go eat tree bark!

 -

 The shouting match hadsted over forty minutes. Two arrows stood out in the gates; Ceria had tossed more spells out at the [Bandits]. Both sides were gettingfrustrated.

 Its thirty gold! You can pay it! I know Gold-ranks are loaded! Dont be an idiot!

 You try earning thirty gold! Go to Rhir and eat maggots!

 It was a ridiculous argument. By now, all of Nerhs was for paying the bribe, extortion, robbery, or what have you. But their protector, the Gold-rank adventurer, was shouting at the [Bandits] and escting the situation.

 On the [Bandit]s side, it was about the same energy. The regrs did not want to tangle with a Gold-rank, even a [Cryomancer] in the desert. One of them nudged the furious [Enforcement Raider].

 Boss. Shes in the area.

 What?

 The [Enforcement Raider] was dragged out of the shouting match. She paled a bit. The [Bandit] read the words apprehensively.

 She says shell swing by and take care of the Gold-rank if you dont handle it. And whatevers in the north. But you get to say hi to Roshals ve markets.

 The bandit group went silent. That was not an idle threat. Nor was it a fair one; their leader had been doing a good job! But it was clearly not being appreciated byher.

 That aint fair. Whats got her ticked?

 One of the others muttered, but lowered their voice and looked south warily. The lone [Mage] of their group snorted uneasily.

 Dont you know? She hates [Cryomancers].

 Oh. Shit.

 -

 Ceria was getting cramped from crouching and her voice hurt from shouting for so long. More than that? Her head hurt. The sunstroke must have been getting back to her. It felt a bit squashed, as if someone were leaning on her brain.

 She knew she should take the deal and just leave it be, but she was mad. [Bandits] were still [Bandits], even ones who were reasonable. She heard the woman shout.

 Listen, you Gold-rank idiot! Just pay up and well be done! Twenty gold! Fourteen! Dont make this harder, you murderer!

 Ceria poked her head out of cover and shouted back.

 Dont call me a murderer! I havent murdered anyone! Yet! Youre the ones storming around here stealing from innocent people!

 Novethur blinked. The [Vigers] around the gates looked at Ceria.

 The [Enforcement Raider], a hundred feet distant, hesitated.

 I didnt call you a murderer! I said, you murderer, Im murderer, murderer!

 Ceria Springwalker hesitated. Wait a second. That didnt sound like a grammatical sentence, even for a [Bandit]. She rubbed at her pointed ears.

 Wait. Did you just say murderer twice?

 The [Bandits] exchanged looks. Was the half-Elf cracking up on them? But thensomeone in their group muttered.

 Wait a second. I hear it too.

 The standoff suddenly became silent. For everyone but Ceria. She looked up, and it became clear that the [Enforcement Raider] was not speaking to her. She heard the voice. Not in words. In herhead.

 Murderer. MURDERER. MURDERER.

 The same words. Growing louder. Muchmuch louder than the faint voice she had heard at first. There was no thinking shed imagined it. Cerias stomach clenched. A bell began to sound in her mind.

 Oh no.

 In the bandits ranks, the same premonition triggered.

 Boss. My [Dangersense] just went off.

 Mine too.

 The [Enforcement Raider] swung around. She looked at the vige gates apprehensively, but the half-Elf had suddenly gotten to her feet. She wasnt attacking. She was lookingnorth. Around. Back into the vige.

 Was it him? The half-Elf monster? Was it the circlet? Ceria turned, wide-eyed to Novethur, who was hearing it too.

 What isCeria, what is that?

 It was after her. Her doom. The half-Elf suddenly didnt care about the [Bandits].

 II have to go. Novethur, if somethinges after me, just run. Dont fight it

 What is it?

 The vigers were sensing the danger too. Now it echoed in the air. In all their heads. Wrath. A word.

 MURDERER.

 But who shouted it? It was not the same voice that Ceria remembered, the half-Elf who turned into the rotting giant. His had been a despairing, furious rage, but this was not the same tone. Moreover, he had spoken with an actual voice.

 Something was familiar, though. Something

 A terrible trepidation came over Ceria. She knew what this was. She knew, and she did not. Her head turned.

 The north.

 It was the [Bandits] who saw it first. They turned, cried out, loosed arrowsthen fled. The [Enforcement Raider] looked at something, hidden by the hill, and screamed a word of terror. They raced away, shouting.

 Why? The pieces came to Ceria, slowly. One by one.

 Something destroyed viges.

 Something called her murderer.

 Something hated her. But why? What enemy had the half-Elf in Chandrar? It had not followed her across the sea. It had been here. Waiting. It had sensed her. And its kind hade, crawling, destroying, consuming, as they always did.

 They tore out of the soil, scurried across the ground. The first Ceria saw of them was glowing orange bodies, morphing to attack, long biting mouths exploding out of their fleshy forms. Whirling limbs, scything mandibles. All death. The horrors of Rhir.

 It came out of her mouth in a whisper. Novethur shouted it and it was taken up as a wail of despair in Nerhs.

 Crelers!

 Then Ceria Springwalker understood. She looked past the first line of crawling bodies, the tinyrval-form Crelers. There wererger shapes, giant pillbug-monsters, some the size of oxen, charging along behind their mindless brood-young.

 But the one that knew her, that led this horde? Only one of them had thought. And there it was.

 An Adult Creler.

 It tore open the earth in a geyser of sand and dirt. It had been tunneling towards her, but now gave up all pretense. A vast body, armored, with no weak internal organs showing, lifted itself out of the ground. A hideous maw exposed glittering interiors, poisonous saliva. A mind that could reach out and talk, could think, raged against Cerias own, pressing at her with malice.

 Murderer.

 It knew. The Adult Creler tore forwards. Ceria Springwalker, who had in one of the world-enders threats before, looked at it. The Humans around her were screaming. Ceria?

 She began tough. Hysterically? In despair? Luaar didnt know. Everything in him had changed to terror. The nightmares of Rhir were here! They had destroyed both viges. Even the [Bandits] had fled.

 The Adult Creler was leading a brood of hundreds. Cerias wildughter cut off as Novethur grabbed her arm.

 We have to run! Ceria! We must fleecan you slow them?

 She shook her head. Her mind was racingshe looked at the Adult Creler and Novethur seized her arm again. Ceria broke out of her trance.

 Theres no outrunning Crelers. They could down us if we were all on horseback.

 Then what do we do? Fight?

 Novethur stared at the Crelers. So many crawling baby Crelers, and Juvenile Crelersan Adult Creler alone could wipe out the vige. A baby Creler could easily kill a man. An entire team of Silver-ranks could take on a single Juvenile Creler.

 He saw annihtion. Ceria? Her lips moved.

 Itsa small nest.

 The [Vige Head] stared at her in disbelief. But Ceria was counting. The Crelers that had emerged from the Bloodfields had been thousands strong. This was less than three hundred, all told.

 Theyll ughter us all!

 Yes.

 That part was true. But Ceria was still watching the Adult Creler. She had it.

 Itssmaller. A lot smaller. And its not spitting anything. I should be dead already.

 Novethur didnt understand. He looked at the gigantic Adult Creler,rger than any hut. But not nearly as vast as the other one. Its maw opened and closed, but no projectile emerged with the force of an enchanted ballistas shot.

 It wasnt fully grown. Maybe it was too young. Maybethere wasnt enough to eat. The Bloodfields were lush, a veritable feastpared to Chandrar.

 It didnt really matter. It was still an army of Crelers. Far too many to survive. The [Bandits] had known they were dead if caught. Nerhs?

 Nerhs was doomed. Novethur slowed. He saw how fast the Crelers were moving. Not at a horses gallop, but they would keep going even as horses tired. Without one, and maybe a Skill or potion, they would catch you. And Nerhs had no horses.

 My son. Luaar? Luaar!

 The father looked around. His boy. If it was the endhe stumbled forwards, shouting.

 Ceria Springwalker stood at the gates. The voice pressed at her head again, shouting the same word.

 Murderer.

 What a funny word. Me?

 A Creler was talking to her. And it saidnot killer. Not enemy. Murderer. As if she had done something wrong.

 It was so funny she startedughing again. The Crelers were beginning to shriek. An alien sound that overrode the screams of Nerhs vigers. Ceria looked around.

 Were all in so much trouble.

 The dirt walls of the vige, the hill? This was not The Wandering Inn. The walls could keep out lesser monsters, the Humans with bows and spears could fight off even an angry beast. Not Crelers. Theyd swarm over the walls, insanely hard to kill, and tear apart anything not in full te armor. The Juvenile Crelers and Adult would tear apart even Gold-rank defenses.

 In their way stood only Ceria. Ceria Springwalker. She walked back through the vige, seeing people running out the far gate.

 No. Youll die out there.

 She muttered. It was true. They would never survive on the run. That Adult Creler was too fast. If they had to fight

 [Ice Wall].

 Nothing happened. Ceria stared at her wand. Nowater. But it had worked on the Adult Creler before. She looked around.

 Water.

 -

 Stick together! With me! With me! Go to the adventurer! Dont run, theyll catch us in the open! We have to hold them back!

 Novethur was screaming, holding Luaar. He saw half of Nerhs in a blind panic. It was not their fault. This? This was death. Yet his words were the only thing to cling to instead of despair.

 The Gold-rank adventurer. She was alone. She was in the wrong climate for her magic. But if there was anything to hope for

 Luaar knew they were dead. He felt his father carrying him, like he was a little boy. Novethur was rallying most of the vige behind him, running, spear clutched in his other hand. As if it would stop them. Luaar knew the stories. Crelers were death. Why had theye here? It was not supposed to be this way.

 And Ceria was not going to stop them. Not her. Notthe half-Elf who ate Yets. Luaar was afraid to look over the huts and walls of Nerhs, to see that roiling tide of limbsing their way. If he didnt look, maybe theyd live. Maybe it would be a dream.

 Ceria! Ceria Springwalker! Where are you?

 Had she fled? The vigers followed Novethur as he ran down the main street. They found the half-Elf. She was standing in front of something.

 The well. The viges only well, with the bucket hanging there, waiting to be pulled up. She was staring down. Down into the well. It was hard work to pull water up from there, and it was sometimes brackish. There was a purification stone in the bottom, but it wasnt perfectly working.

 Adventurer Ceria. Please

 Novethur stopped. Ceria looked back. The silly half-Elf who ate Yets,ughed, couldnt even cast [Fireball]Luaars despairing look turned to confusion.

 The airwas shimmering. Ceria Springwalkers pale eyes were glowing. Her skeletal hand, holding the birch wand, was aimed down into the darkness. There was ice coating the stones of the well.

 She looked at the vigers of Nerhs. The [Arctic Cryomancer] smiled.

 Miss Ceria. Can you save us?

 Novethur panted. Ceria nced down into the well. It was the viges lifeblood. Without itNerhs would surely end. You could not live without water. That was why her magic had so little power here. There was just nowater.

 She looked up. Luaar saw Cerias hand slowly rise. He heard a crack as the stones forming the wells basin broke from the cold. Then saw something moving upwards.

 A pir of ice. It climbed out of the well, breaking through the simple roof. A sheer wall of water.

 All the water in the well. It rose higher, and began to split. Nerhs people looked up. Ceria looked at all the water in Nerhs. All she had avable to her. She turned to Novethur, and Luaar. The boy looked at the half-Elf and she gave him a wild, insane grin.

 I can try. Stand behind me.

 -

 The Crelers swarmed towards the open gates of the vige. They were hungry. There was never enough to eat. And eat they would, until nothing was left in this world.

 But they were also angry. They hated everything. They hated all things. But they hated whaty in this vige most of all.

 Murderer. Something had murdered one of them. That knowledge made them even hungrier. The Crelers could think. They could tell the viges walls would never stop them.

 The oldest of them had confidence that the single murderer would die. It had sensed no great power from the single murderer; a disturbing amount of it from something within the vige the closer it drew, but no terrifying magical aura from afar.

 The first Crelers were within a hundred feet of the vige when something coated the walls. It made the Adult slow. Temperature was just anotherponent it could sense along with magic. And this was visible to all.

 Was thatice? Something foreign to most parts of Chandrar swept upwards, covering Nerhs simple dirt walls. Fortifying them. Creating a solid, vertical wall.

 Ice. It frosted the huts, created ramps, trenches, interior walls as it rose higher in the center of the vige. The Crelers slowed. How was this happening? Even Crelers needed water, and there was so precious little of it.

 The [Cryomancer]. She was tapping into the groundwater of Nerhs. A lifetimes supply. A vige died as the water funneled out of it, and this was a drynd. So dry and arid because all the water was funneled elsewhere by other magics.

 But let Nerhs die so this fortress could live. Cerias lips moved. She was rising higher, on a dais of ice.

 [Ice Wall]. That was her spell. [ciersheet Ice]. [Frozen Quickshape]. [Adept Iceform]. She did not need any of these Skills; they just made her faster, made the ice tougher.

 But her master had taught her well. The basic spell was being used to form nigh-vertical ramps. Walls which would slow the Crelers down, some already ten feet thick and growing. She had to be careful with the water she had. She would call it back as they broke throughyer afteryer, reinforcing the heart.

 Yet the design was already in ce. Look. The Adult Creler visibly hesitated as it saw a fortification emerge, roundedyers of defense. From any angle, it was a nightmare for infantry to attack. A frozen bastion.

 Ceria had seen it once before. She had made it once before, in a time like this. Neverpletely. She did not yet know the spell, but she knew exactly how it should look. How strong it should be.

 After all. Her master was Illphres, the [Ice Mage] of Wistram. And her great spell had been

 [Fortress of the Ice Queen].

 The half-Elfs lips moved. It was not that spell. Not yet. Her ice was too weak. It could melt, even now. It was not strong enough.

 But it was close. The vigers of Nerhs were staring. Luaar and his father looked at Ceria.

 This is

 There.

 Ceria pointed. She had taken their hut, frozen a world of ice around it and two more. In the very center of her castle, a ramp opened.

 Get down there. Hide. I have to battle them from up here.

 She was on a parapet of ice. Ceria was breathing hard, but she hadnt even begun the battle yet. She raised her wand.

 [Ice Lance]. The first oversized projectile formed out of the ice she was standing on. A jagged chunk of it rotated, turned into a spire of frozen death, and shot forwards. Ceria saw three Crelers vanish, crushed more than pierced by the impact. She raised her hand, and the ice began to float back to her.

 She could not waste a drop. She only realized Novethur was still standing there after a second. Ceria nced over her shoulder.

 I cant protect you unless youre there. If the ice breaksrun. Ill buy you all the time I can.

 She didnt waste time arguing, if there was anything else he actually said. Ceria turned, and cast the spell again.

 [Ice Lance]. [Ice Lance]. [Ice Lance].

 Some peoplePiscesbelieved you should have variety in your spells. In a [Mage] battle, that was true. But this? All you needed to do was kill Crelers.

 Last time, [Ice Spike] had only been able to nail baby ones, and not even kill them. This timeCeria watched as the gigantic stctites pulverized the little ones, turning them into twitching trails of orange paste and limbs.

 They reached the walls by the time she realized the vigers had gone. Below her, they were in the huts. Ceria closed the ice rampadded airholes from the south side and weakened the ice there. If they needed to, they could break out that way.

 Part of Ceria, the part not casting spells, aiming, knocking down the Crelers already swarming over the firstyer of walls, knew the Crelers would get to the vigers of Nerhs. Hence her cing them at the center of her fortifications.

 They could get through even my best [Ice Wall] in time. They can melt through the ice, bite through it. She had to keep them back.

 The Crelers, nearly three dozen, were already through the inviting, open gates. They charged down a narrow corridor of ice between two ten-foot-high [Ice Walls]. Such an inviting passage. Ceria focused on them.

 The two [Ice Walls] flexed, and both walls slowly rammed together. The Crelers saw iting and tried to scrabble up the sides of the walls out of danger. Two made itCeria picked them off with rapid-fire [Ice Spikes]. The rest?

 They tried to glow, to heat up and melt the ice at the cost of their own energy. Too slow; the ice crushed them. There was a scream from their kin, who backed away from other kill-zones.

 Idiots.

 If the ice breaks, Im dead. She hadnt told that to Novethur. He didnt need to be told. If the ice broke, hed try to escape. Smart man.

 [Frost Arrows]. [Ray of Frost]!

 Ceria aimed for a Juvenile Creler trying to ram through one of her walls. As it broke through, she saw the deadly arrows made of ice bounce off its armor. The ray of frost?

 Well, it chilled the Creler, and froze another onefor seconds. Then they just warmed up. Ceria nodded.

 [Ice Lance].

 She sent the Juvenile Creler reeling backwards so hard it fell onto its back, exposing its weak underbelly. Before it could twist over, Ceria hammered it with [Ice Spikes]. It flipped over, but she saw it leaking its internals. Still, it came on.

 Crushing them is the only way to make sure theyre dead. Ceria saw the Adult Creler stalking around her fortress. Looking for a weak point? She hadnt even tried to kill it.

 The half-Elf watched the Crelers break through the first walls of the vige. They smashed the ice down, and their ws carried them up the frozen ice with dismaying ease. Howevershe raised another [Ice Wall] in the faces of a group of Crelers. As they swarmed up it, she tipped the wall and it fell forwards, knocking them down and crushing theirrades.

 [Cryomancer]. What had Illphres always said? Oh, yes. Were not rapid-cast [Mages]. Go apprentice yourself to Amerys if you want to just st things. We control our battlefields.

 That was what Ceria was doing now. She was creating kill-zones, funneling the Crelers through, squishing them, hitting them with [Ice Lances].

 Running out of water.

 Something was wrong. Ceria tried to lift a puddle of orange and melting ice. Creler blood mixed with the water of Nerhs well and shecouldntpull it up. Not with ice magic alone.

 Its blood, not water. She didnt know how to control it. Ceria hissed; she took apart one of the broken walls to pound at a Juvenile Creler trying toe up a wall. She thought she heard a note of triumph in her head.

 Murderer.

 Ceria was getting awfully tired of that voice. She turned and saw it.

 The Adult Creler was stalking through a ruined wall, after the vanguard of its kin. It had offered them up to break through and now, it was scuttling forwards. It rammed into her thirdyer of [Ice Walls] and exploded through. Ceria threw up her arms and a thin [Ice Wall] shielded her tower from the spray of shrapnel. She aimed down.

 [Ice Lance]! Die, damn it!

 The jagged spear of ice shot downwards andcracked on the Adult Crelers armor. It was young. ButCerias lips twisted.

 Yeah. I needed Yvlon.

 Slowly, her fingers reached down for something hanging on her belt. She aimed at the Crelers she could kill and a Juvenile Creler copsed as the Adult wed at a second wall. Ceria slowly grasped the circlet hanging there.

 Not yet.

 -

 She stood on the fortress of ice. The smallest Crelers made their way up to her, but found she had encased herself in a clear wall of ice that she could fight from. She sted them off with spells as they gnawed on it. She tried to slow the giant Creler, as spells shed out around her.

 The ice avable to her wasdiminishing. The more it ran together with Creler blood, the less she had. She heard the beating voice in her head.

 Murderermurderermurderermurd

 The half-Elfughed. She had startedughing. Her robes whipped around her. Despite the midday heat, her tower was frozen solid.

 Running out of ice. She said something then. A reminder. Below her, Nerhs people stared at the glowing bodies pressing themselves against the walls shielding them. Luaar heard something.

 Hells Wardens.

 The half-Elf shouted it down from her tower. She dragged a chunk of ice into the air and sent it crashing down. Something bored through the ice and leapt at her. It met frozen armor; a skeletal hand. She tossed it out of the tower and hit it mid-air with a spike of frozen water.

 Hells Wardens!

 They were just words. But the vigers of Nerhs looked up. The [Cryomancer] rained down icenow lightning spells that sent limbs jerking spastically. She shouted it back at the thing that called her murderer. A title from Rhir. Luaar, Novethur, looked up.

 Was she really that? The title even Gold-rank adventurers acknowledged? She shouted it down at the monsters.

 Hells Wardens! Hells Wardens! Hear that you little pieces of tree crap? Hells Wardens! Crelerbane! HELLS WARDENS. HELLS

 She bit her tongue. Ceria spat out some blood and spittle. She conjured some ice out of the walls protecting her and hit another Creler mid-leap.

 Hells Warden.

 Then she ran out of water. There was ice left, but all of it was in the walls. Ceria watched as Crelers clung to the outsides, bodies glowing. Anything melted she desperately threw into regrowing her protections.

 No more water. And her mana was too low to cast other spells, even if she could have used [Fireball].

 The Adult Creler was just watching. She had killed the Juvenile Crelers, and it was wary. It was letting the remaining small ones eat towards her. They did have a survival instinct.

 Too bad Im out of tricks.

 Cerias sh of anger hadsted all of six minutes. She pressed her hands to the ice, bare feet of protection from a scratching flurry of ws, willing it to freeze. Her breath was an icy mist.

 She couldnt rage. She wanted to. She wanted to pull from that reservoir like Yvlon had, keep fighting even if they tore off her arms. Ceria couldnt.

 Icant even tell if theyre alive.

 She muttered. Death by Crelers. Here. There was something ironic about that. Maybe? Her energy was fading. She stared at a glowing abdomen. Were those eggs inside the oneing for her?

 Her hand crept down to the circlet. Her [Dangersense]grew louder. Ceria grinned.

 Nobody knows what will happen next. Do you think Im scared?

 The Adult Creler was watching her. No, watching the circlet. She saw it draw back when she lifted it. It knew.

 I have lost my team twice. Ill do it. Im crazy.

 She felt her [Dangersense] telling her what would happen if she put it on. Mysterious artifactsCeria gritted her teeth. Something was wrong. She had to do something.

 Its hard. Angry. Hard to

 Water. Water, if only Nerhs had more water. If only she was a [Bloodmage]. Lets teach yourself blood magic now. Good idea. Good

 Stupid. Someone was whispering in her ears. Ceria swayed. No, wait a second. She was having a vision. A memory? A delusion? What was supposed to happen?

 Someone had a grip on her ear and was twisting it hard. Are you stupid? What kind of self-respecting [Ice Mage] learns blood magic? Go change your ss if youre going to do that.

 Who would say that? Ah. Yes.

 Illphres. Wouldnt she sayCeria felt the ice warming. Not enough material to keep between her and the Creler.

 Thats the problem. Youre thinking the wrong way. Water? Are you a [Hydromancer]? Does your magic begin and end with water, you idiotic appentice?

 No, master. But give me a hint?

 The half-Elf looked around. And then it came to her. Oh. Of course. She looked down at her hands. One flesh and blood, one skeletal. When she had lost that hand, had she called only on the power of ice made manifest? What was their ss? Illphres loomed in her vision.

 Cold, Master. Cold. Itscold.

 Ceria recalled hertest Skill. Not [Battlefield of the Frozen World]. She didnt even have the water to conjure it. Not [Lesser Frost Elemental]. Those were spells that required something. But her nature was cold.

 [Aura of Rime]. [Aura: Distant Maniption].

 She stood there, without the rage that her friend had. Her brave little protg had all the courage and loyalty, more than she could have. She was not as clever as he was, or as gifted. And perhaps that was fine. None of these thingssted forever.

 Speed drained away. Anger faded. Energy left you.

 All things were lost in time. Cleverness failed.

 The half-Elf stopped moving. Her hands were locked against the frozen ice, staring at the burrowing shapeing towards her. There was nothing left. She stopped moving. Stopped casting magic. She was just

 Juststill. A little void in her soul, which Ceria kept closed. Into it she spilled her worry, her fear, her anger. Until naught remained.

 What must be done was simple. The truth was cold. It was true, she did not want to die. She was afraid. Butin time

 Even fear begantofreeze.

 The burrowing Crelers movements began to slow. The glow in its bodybegan to dim.

 The other Crelers felt it. They felt something.painfulengulf them. What? The ice? The ice was cold, but they had infested even frozennds. What was this? It was

 Cold. So cold it leeched even their burning heat from their limbs. So cold thatthe little Creler was struggling. Uprehending. But it dimmed. Something wasstealing the heat. That damned murderer. She was taking.

 Its cold, isnt it?

 In her tower of ice, a body stopped moving. Two pale eyes stared at a frozen shape. Lips moved upwards.

 It was not a malicious smile. It was not triumphant. It was a frozen gesture. Like her masters face.

 A mask of ice. Slowly, two pale eyes turned left. Another body began to slow. The heat of life began to fade away.

 Desperately, the others tried to burrow faster. The ice wasnt reforming. It didnt need to. Thisthis was just temperature. They froze, feet from her, then inches. Too cold. The closer they got

 The Adult Creler stared up at her. This was not magic it knew. This was nota spell. They locked gazes, and it began to climb up the tower, biting, tearing, now feeling a cold reaching for its soul.

 But it had been made to resist magic! To be supreme! The end of all things! This was not fair! This was

 Ceria Springwalker watched thest Creler advance, dreamily. She did not move. To move was to have energy. To be the opposite of what she had to be. This was the truth at the heart of it all. Herstrength.

 Of the four of them. She was not the most cunning. Bravest. Most adaptable. Certainly not the strongest. Perhaps, though, it was one thing she had more than anything else.

 Tenacity. She had looked death in the eyes once before. Just like this. A horde of undead. Terror. Two glowing ruby eyes. She had possessed the will to do what had to be done.

 Yes,e closer. Her skeletal hand rose, slowly. A scything maw was opening and closing. A mind beat at hers, but it froze from sheer contact. Was this what her master saw? The truth, waiting for her? She wasnt even close, but she saw it.

 It wascold. So cold she had stopped shivering. So cold it was beginning to feel warm. For her. She had thought she would never feel cold again. Now she knew.

 I will lead us into the frozennd, together. What lies there?

 Something was afraid. Something saw her skeletal hand. Her smile.

 Look at what I gave upst time.

 To kill you, I will do whatever it takes. My arrogant friend is clever enough to best you. My young protg is brave enough to risk everything for victory for us. My brave sister will take you to the grave no matter the cost to herself.

 I? I am willing to see the cost clearly and pay it, time and time again.

 It was wing closer. A few feet left. She could feel the vibrations. Hear the malicious thoughts. s, something thought.

 Not cold enough. Not yet, to kill with temperature alone. Not without water. A bit longer. A bit colder

 Her hand slowly rose. With cial speed. With inevitability. The circlet shed.

 Lets find out, together.

 The monster wasing. If it could have run, if there were any other way but her death, it would have. Because it was afraid.

 -

 What did you see? How did you see them?

 The boy saw the horrors of hell stop moving. He heard cheers, gasps, and saw thest great monstering. wing over his head through the transparent ice soaked with gore.

 He had no eyes for it. Only her. He had thought she was such a letdown at first. Even until thest hour, he had been disappointed. Now he saw Ceria Springwalker, the adventurer he had longed to see in her full might and glory, standing, facing the slowing Adult Creler, whose limbs were lined with frost, shrieking at her.

 In that moment, he no longer wanted to be an adventurer. He saw Ceria smiling widely, and saw the empty oblivion in her eyes. Just how far she was willing to go to rid the world of thatthat thing.

 Luaar understood something then. A critical thing he hadnt understood.

 She was no hero. This was no glorious hour. It was a bitter battle to be won at any cost.

 She was an adventurer.

 What did you see when you saw that? A vige frozen in silence. An entire nest of Crelers, frozen, pulped by walls of ice. Destroyed by a single [Mage] in andpletely against her magic. In a battle nearly an hour long, she stood in the center of a fortress that refused to break.

 [Ice Mage]. [Cryomancer].

 Someone slowed. A group of riders pointed, readying themselves. But the first among them, their leader, stopped. Her eyes were only on the obscured figure amid that familiarfamiliar spell. Yet it was impossible. Wasnt it?

 It cant be. Illphres?

 -

 Nearly. She nearly won. But the first w broke through the ice.

 s.

 Ceria sighed. The circlet gleamed as she lowered it onto her head. She felt it touch the very top of her hair, and then a voice whispered in her ears.

 Freeze it. Iing.

 Her head turned, slowly, slowly. With the weight of that cold world she invoked. What? Who was speaking? What was falling in a huge orb, nigh as vast as Nerhs itself? Was that

 Water.

 The bomb of water engulfed everything in a sudden, aquatic world. The explosion of the orb of waternding on the vige obliterated almost everything in a titanic burst of sound.

 Ceria was knocked off her perch in the impromptu fortress, iling, disoriented, and drowning. To be fair, so was the Adult Creler. It was more confused than debilitated, however; it began to il and twist its body through the water.

 It had never swum, but it was drawing on ingrained knowledge, learning how to propel itself with deadly speed. It whirled, looking for its terrifying foe. What was this water doing here? How had?

 It spotted her toote. A half-Elf, sitting in a chunk of ice. She had frozen herself. The Adult Creler began to try to swim at her, screaming. No, no!

 The water froze. It froze around both of them, so fast it didnt even let the water flow away. The Creler tried to escape. It tried to heat up, but now it was too slow.

 Too slow to break through as the numbing cold, the hoarfrost beginning to engulf it. The movements of the monster slowed. The glowing light began to fade. It sat there, in the ice, with the half-Elf. How?

 Neither of them knew how. But in time, the half-Elf looked down. The ice around her unfroze. She gasped, and dropped out of the frozen sculpture.

 Onto the sand and ground. Amid the living, warm people, who reached out to hug her, touch her, and recoiled at the freezing temperature. She looked up at the people of Nerhs, those who had fled

 And the [Enforcement Raider] and a farrger band of armed, rough figures. A pnquin and a figure staring at the Adult Creler there.

 All of it was meaningless to the thing encased in ice. It was dying. But not dead. The [Cryomancer] had frozen it, but so long as it was only this coldit would eventually thaw. Fool. Fool! The gleeful little thought was so tiny that no one would have even sensed the life with a spell. But it was there.

 It waited, as the half-Elf struggled to her feet, was hugged by a little boy, talked to the others, warily faced a warrior with a shield, and pointed at it. Thenas those two cold eyes looked upwards.

 The murderer tilted her head back. And the Adult Creler heard something.

 I know youre still alive.

 A cold little thought.

 -

 The limbs jerked. The dead Adult Creler cracked the ice and began to glow. Ceria Springwalker heard the [Bandits] and people of Nerhs shout and run backwards. But she was already aiming her wand upwards.

 Die. I know you have to die. Until youre nothing but ash, I wont rest! Until the ice turns you to powder.

 She didnt know if she had the magic left, but it would die. She heard a frantic thought pushing at her head. The ice was thawing. She tried to keep it frozen, but was someaking the cold away?

 Murdererwait

 Enough. Stop freezing it. Let me.

 A voice filled with disgust and imperious wrath stopped Ceria. A hand knocked her away. The half-Elf felt power, swirling like the tides of a vast, unseen ocean, move past her. She turned.

 A woman with her own wand aimed it up. She had been lounging on the pnquin, her robes askew, rippling like the liquid water they were. Her eyes, the irises swirling as if liquid themselves, narrowed, and a sun-darkened hand rose. Painted nails, like waves, curled around an azure wand ofpiszuli.

 Then the Siren of Savere spoke.

 [Water Pressure Dark Straits]. [Elven Concentration]. [Temporary Holding: Water]. Unleash ten thousand pounds. [Sphere of Water]. [Pinpoint Spell: Needles Focus]

 A roar of water. Ceria Springwalker looked up as a vortex of clear water unleashed itself from out of empty space. Novethur looked up as more water than he had ever glimpsed in his life, the water siphoned from this drynd, the bounty of the Kingdom of Bandits, Savere, formed in a vast, swirling orb over the Sirens head. Then she finally cast the spell, as the wriggling Adult Creler tried to swim out of the water prison.

 [Water Jet].

 A needle ofpressed water shot out, through the tip of her wand. Siphoned out of the water source overhead. Ten thousand pounds of water, elerated, <ipressed, into a beam of force.

 The Tier 1 spell sted a hole through the Crelers internals, even the armor. It sawed through everything, even shooting out the other side of the water prison spell.

 It was not a quick death. Ceria heard something screaming. The Siren never relented, never sped up. She cut the Adult Creler in half, slowly, drawing on more water, sawing through the captive, twisting shape, again and again, until it floated in pieces. Then, and only then, did she copse the binding prison.

 The woman turned away. Her apanying force of hundreds of [Bandits] and [Raiders] stared at the bloody orange water filling the vige of Nerhs. The woman snapped at the [Enforcement Raider].

 Dispose of the water. Its contaminated. Not even worth trying to purify. Burn everything that remains until its ash. Bodies, even parts where they fell. If one Creler emerges here in a month, Ill hang all of you.

 They bowed, pale-faced. Ceria looked at them. [Bandits]. Then at the woman. She felt like she should know who this was.

 Uh. Uh

 The wet, drenched, shivering half-Elf kept repeating herself as the Siren wrinkled her nose. The other [Bandits] looked apprehensive. [Cryomancer] and an adventurer. But the Siren did not immediately vent her famous pique. She frowned at Ceria.

 You are not Illphres. But that was her spell. [Fortress of the Ice Queen], exactly like she cast it. And only she cast it that way. That ice armor was her old spell, too.

 Ceria Springwalker blinked. Illphres? She met the deep blue-green gaze, the suspiciouscuriousscowl. The words left her mouth before she could think. Gone was the frozen mage. But the Siren had seen it.

 Just like her master.

 Illphres? Im herst apprentice. Who are you? Alsogot a handkerchief? I have water in my nose.

 The Sirens eyes widened. She looked at Ceria, disbelieving, and nearly raised her wand then and there. Then she remembered. She lowered the wand and told Ceria.

 The half-Elf sneezed.

 Great. [Bandits].

 That was how she met her masters old friend. Which came as a shock to Ceria. Frankly

 She hadnt thought Illphres had any friends.

 Authors Note: Big stuffs is happening this month. On the 24th, the Kickstarter for the physical book of The Last Tide, and digital version of both parts will be out! I shouted out a LitRPG Facebook group that reads stuff like The Wandering Inn, so check it out.

 More importantlyI am sick. Not lying dying as everything voids itself sick, but lightheaded sick. I didnt believe it at first. Oh, Im just blowing my nose every other minute. Im not sick

 Right when I finish my break. I fear its affected the chapter. I think I can see it already has; even though Im rested, everything feels worse.

 Why must I be sick? Why? If it affects the next few chapters, I am sorry. But mewhoever made me sick. Thanks for reading and I hope this was legible. I am going to rest and hopefully recover. Until next time.

 Big stuffs is happening this month. On the 24th, the Kickstarter for the physical book of The Last Tide, and digital version of both parts will be out! I shouted out a LitRPG Facebook group that reads stuff like The Wandering Inn, so check it out.

 More importantlyI am sick. Not lying dying as everything voids itself sick, but lightheaded sick. I didnt believe it at first. Oh, Im just blowing my nose every other minute. Im not sick

 Right when I finish my break. I fear its affected the chapter. I think I can see it already has; even though Im rested, everything feels worse.

 Why must I be sick? Why? If it affects the next few chapters, I am sorry. But mewhoever made me sick. Thanks for reading and I hope this was legible. I am going to rest and hopefully recover. Until next time.

 Ducks (readers of TWI are called Fat Ducks, apparently), by Brack,missioned by /brack

 Twitter: /Brack_Giraffe

 

 Pan, This-GIF, and the Lord of mes by Bobo /boboplushie

 

 

 Pets, Redfang Goblins, and a stream-sketch by ArtsyNada!Instagram:https://.instagram/illudanajohns/Ko-fi:https://ko-fi/illudanajohnsCommission info:

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Book 8: Chapter 36: H