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 immediate comprehension.

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 glanced at him. Sammial saw Ryoka lying there, staring up at the [Knights] who were glancing 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 eccentric, 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 their lands, trading at acceptable losses if they were forced back.

As for Pheislant? 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 the last week and a half. First at the pass where they routed the army marching to flank the Dawn Concordatlater 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 saw combat.

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; the commander 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 blades 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 slashing 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 blade and the thin line of poison; a paste with small seeds now charred black along the Thirsting Veil [Knight]s blade. Fire ran rampant as more Summer Knights wielding burning weapons slashed 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 clasped to a steaming wound. He or she was actively cauterizing the place where a dagger had punched through their chestplate. A Knight of Autumn, the Season of Fall, raced forwards with a broad-spectrum antidote prepared for these clashes.

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 success. 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 voice coming 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 occur 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 slapped 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 slaying the [General]. The Dame went over with a shout.

How

The whuh of sound coming out of her visor as she landed flat 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 enemy commander.

The battle was won with surprisingly few casualties. As infour [Knights] had been wounded seriously. Three died, and the rest were healable 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 blades 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 Pheislant 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 Slayer? Ser Solstice!

He slapped 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 flank soon! How long until the border?

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

Pheislants 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 popular opinion of Pheislants 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 hed come 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 hopefully come from Pheislant.

That was the plan. 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 couldnt last 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 class. Not the mostmminspired of names, but the fact that Ailendamus could appoint anyone to a new class that was an upgrade over a regular [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 black but for the gold lining.

The effect, as the doors were opened and he strode into the huge courtroom, was calculated 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 palace; the sheer display of wealth that gave rise to so many vast chambers. Why, even the hallways could accommodate 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 Veilau 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, and comfort 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 class 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 he combed his hair at least three dozen times even when he was at his busiest, with an enchanted comb 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 convening large ceremonies like this regularly. A [King] was busy, and frankly, didnt care.Fôllôw new stories at wuxiahere.com

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-born commoners had the wide-eyed look of people who were permitted to walk the palace 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 occasion. 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 occasion, 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] clasped 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 blade, 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!

Greysten laughed. 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 flatlands at a distant, moving body coming 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 glance at each other. Some of the Order of Seasons were sighing, preparing for battle, but there was a truculence that Rabbiteater hadnt noticed in the last three battles against the other forces. Not all knight-led either; in fact, the [Knights] had been the last 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 clashed 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] classes. Same as we. But theyre

Commoners.

Meisa explained succinctly. Markus winced and glanced 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 explain.

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 exclusively common-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 clash 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 explanations. Can we have sex now? After? He didnt really care. Rabbiteater straightened, just in time to realizehe should care.

The Order of Seasons and Pheislants 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, occasionally used in the current day. Each legion was known to be comprised 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 inaccuracies 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 regular [Soldiers] were just supplementary forces, though they were still the largest 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, laughing stream of light, mulberry-colored metal. Men and women of many species, mainly Human, but anyone who showed the valor and will of their class.

Running. On foot. They laughed 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 slapped the helmet without even looking around.

Shut up. How many?

Onetwoeightthousand

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 were laughing. Slapping each others shoulders, cheering. Singing Ailendamus national anthem.

Let the lance-arrows fall from Ailendamus walls and guard the Kingdom of Glass 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 had come for a battle.

The Order of Seasons and the army of Pheislanthesitated. 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 blaze 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 glanced 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, lacking 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 plate armor and who had the morale of common-folk who knew they could fight and elevate themselves. Become 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 replaced by a distant melody. A spirited one. The Order of Seasons heard it drifting towards them on the breeze, incredulously. Did the lack of decorum of this Order know no bounds?

They were playinga 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 blasting 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 become 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 Singers latest 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 enemy commander 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 has come 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].

Pheislants [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 Merila, the Hill-Knight!

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

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

Merila, the Hill-Knight. She wasnt as tall as some of her kin. She wasnt Zamea the [Shepherd], thirty plus feet tall. Merila 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. And laughing.

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 single combat! Lets fight fair, eh?

She smiled and threw back her head to laugh, a huge, full-belly laugh that made Rabbiteater think of home.

The Knight of the Hills laughed 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 clasp.

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 occupy every nation on Terandria. The odds may be taller against us. So? The taller fall harder.

He glanced back at the Dame of the Hills. The Order of Seasons cheered. Rabbiteater did not. He glanced 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 claimed 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 their lances. Then prepared to charge the Order of the Hydra.

-

Of late, 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 displayed terrifyingly powerful Skills. They had ground down an entire crusades advance, and the infamously dangerous Claiven 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.

Revelation after revelation. 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 a laughingstock. 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 newly come 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 claim you were failing and on your last 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 replacement 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 replaced 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 Dullahans 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 have come out into her inner abdomen. What a mess. Of course, she could have replaced almost every organ with easeexcept her heart, a dangerous operationbut they would each have to be individually cleaned, and carefully replaced 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 were laborers, common 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 the lands now taking her name, had gone to her grave when all was lost, depriving her enemies of the ability to hold her to account 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. Dullahans, Centaursit was a common 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 palaces 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 and component parts of what they treasured. From afar, the palace 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 aggravating complexities in every designsometimes violating the very blueprints you set downto accommodate 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 plank of wood.

Thus, they contrived to build entire towers that curved in the air, just ever-so-slightly, but which viewed from afar, alarmed 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 palace that sometimes felt as alive as any [Druid]-building.

Not to mention, a certain nod to complementary materials. Some idiots chose marble and slapped 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 glad 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 relate a change in her diet. This was not the time to be anything less than patriotic, so the date jams, customary flatbreads 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 played their own games in the palace. 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 palace, 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 [Chamberlain] or other representative, who had a [Herald] announce her coming 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 fairly comfortable 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, complete 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 palaces 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 places 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 player 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 class belied her ability to navigate the days treachery. She felt every eye on her, and so relaxed, 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 writ large 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 the lackluster revolts she had seen so far. Yisame let Thelican take credit for the war planby 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 Pallass.

That was not what Yisame wanted to hear, and she gave the [Spymaster] a thin glare. 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 conclave, 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, displaying Nerrhavias Fallens wisdom!

Dead gods, but she had felt alive when she saw people replaying 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-circulated.

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

No less than Mars the Illusionist had once come 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] lay on her bed, filled with enchantments and protective spells worth more than some of her lesser nobilitys entire fortunes combined, 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 already large enough to play a soccer game in. Not at the highest tower of Nerrhavias palaceroyalty got tired of the commutebut in the center of that grand place. AccordinglyYisame 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 palace. 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 place 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 accomodated 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 large bed with completely different enchantments to her royal one above. Ones to enhance any acts committed 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 gelatinous mold of an intimate part of someones body. It kept wobbling for nearly three minutes afterwards.

Her [Spymaster] knew this place 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, occasionally smuggling in people for assignations. Sometimes someone had to come 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 secret lair that was actually a good deal less pristine than the sex dungeon that the servants regularly 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]s laboratory. It held neatly-tended to plants, 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 places 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 half-completed Paterskein design spoke to something they would believethat Yisame liked to knit! A scandalous, but completely 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 place, if any.

The truth wasYisame was not good at chess. She was not about to indulge in a life of sweaty, flailing 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 glanced over her shoulder, then, at last, 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 one compared to many of her residences; still larger than most middle-class families homes. Hollowed out of the palace, 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 was comfy, and sat only a few feet in front of the door.

Beyond it lay what she had come 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], clapped 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 manipulative 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 boon companions, 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 his companions. Not one touched the Dullahan [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 Dullahan, 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-accurate retelling of the actual [Thief], Thivian Stormless.

She had been playing the passage out in her head during the boring court. Now, Yisame loaded enough of the story in her mind to replay later. 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 class few people even knew existed, and at her level?

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

[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 proclamation, 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 the latest 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. The latest 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 account of the Stargnoll herself, Lehra Ruinstrider, to accounts of the Dauntless Packs last voyage into the Depthless Dungeon by a survivor of the expedition.

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

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

Yes, there had been that many books. No, no one had a complete 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 collapse 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. Replay 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 replay 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]; he comes from the Great Plains, 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 occured 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, according to those who claim 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 account 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 handholdsbarely larger than my claw! 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 a lack 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 to come 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 accounts, 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 ancillary 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 wasnt complete; 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 plant 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 Dullahan, 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!

Its just a word. And it is your class. Shut up. I have a headache and we have to go to two more villages 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 village. 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 [Accountant]s figures and grimacing. She glanced up as she leaned on the other woman.

No, no. I know you pulled their baseline income for this year, and thats not worth the ride out here. I can smell theyve got actual gold, somehow. Try their income 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 pillaging economics with her underling and frowned at Novethur. He licked his lips.

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

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

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

Whats wrong with those villages? Someone else hit them?

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

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 glancing at the other [Villagers]. He was listening to the numbers the [Accountant] 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 a last resort, and if they were from where he thought, and if their boss was truly

We dont know what came from the north. Two villages 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 villages 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 village. 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 villagers. 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

That last 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, flanking the village 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 village, but Luaar, dragged inside by one of the [Villagers], 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 village 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 well come 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 village once? Then you can come back in uh, sixfour months!

Oh, come on.

The [Enforcement Raider] grumbled. There was a cry of consternation from inside the village. 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 her companions.

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 blast you to pieces! Want a taste of this? [Fireball]!

Oh shit, scatter

The [Enforcement Raider] saw the flash 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 blazing ball of light arced up and landed, whereupon the fiery strands expanded, creating an explosion of flame 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 blasts 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 [Villagers] 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 and come back in two months?

The half-Elf waved a hand at Novethur as the [Bandits] laughed 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 inland that

The [Enforcement Raider] wasnt laughing, 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 flash past their leader, curve, and fly back the way it had come. The [Enforcement Raider] clapped a hand to her cheek. She had actually dodged the wrong way, and the slashing [Ice Spike] had nearly killed her.

Ceria called back the single [Ice Spike] shed shot out. The frozen waterfrom Novethurs water flaskhovered in the air as the [Bandits] lost their laughter. She poked her head out and a thin layer of frost began to coat the walls of Nerhs village 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 village.

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

The [Enforcement Raider] splashed some healing potion on her hand, slapped 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 village. Ceria Springwalker poked her head out.

What?

Thirty gold!

Go eat tree bark!

-

The shouting match had lasted 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 escalating the situation.

On the [Bandit]s side, it was about the same energy. The regulars 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 slave 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 [Villagers] 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 village gates apprehensively, but the half-Elf had suddenly gotten to her feet. She wasnt attacking. She was lookingnorth. Around. Back into the village.

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 something comes after me, just run. Dont fight it

What is it?

The villagers 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 villages.

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 had come, 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 tiny larval-form Crelers. There were larger 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 slain one of the world-enders threats before, looked at it. The Humans around her were screaming. Ceria?

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

The Adult Creler was leading a brood of hundreds. Cerias wild laughter 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 village. A baby Creler could easily kill a man. An entire team of Silver-ranks could take on a single Juvenile Creler.

He saw annihilation. Ceria? Her lips moved.

Itsa small nest.

The [Village 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 slaughter 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, larger 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 feast compared 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 started laughing again. The Crelers were beginning to shriek. An alien sound that overrode the screams of Nerhs villagers. Ceria looked around.

Were all in so much trouble.

The dirt walls of the village, 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 plate 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 village, 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 village behind him, running, spear clutched in his other hand. As if it would stop them. Luaar knew the stories. Crelers were death. Why had they come here? It was not supposed to be this way.

And Ceria was not going to stop them. Not her. Notthe half-Elf who ate Yellats. Luaar was afraid to look over the huts and walls of Nerhs, to see that roiling tide of limbs coming 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 villagers followed Novethur as he ran down the main street. They found the half-Elf. She was standing in front of something.

The well. The villages 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 Yellats, laughed, 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 villagers of Nerhs. The [Arctic Cryomancer] smiled.

Miss Ceria. Can you save us?

Novethur panted. Ceria glanced down into the well. It was the villages 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 pillar 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 available 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 village. 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 what lay in this village most of all.

Murderer. Something had murdered one of them. That knowledge made them even hungrier. The Crelers could think. They could tell the villages 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 village the closer it drew, but no terrifying magical aura from afar.

The first Crelers were within a hundred feet of the village when something coated the walls. It made the Adult slow. Temperature was just another component 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 village. 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 village died as the water funneled out of it, and this was a dry land. 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. [Glaciersheet 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 through layer after layer, reinforcing the heart.

Yet the design was already in place. Look. The Adult Creler visibly hesitated as it saw a fortification emerge, rounded layers 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. Never completely. 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 villagers 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 glanced 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 stalactites pulverized the little ones, turning them into twitching trails of orange paste and limbs.

They reached the walls by the time she realized the villagers 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 first layer of walls, knew the Crelers would get to the villagers of Nerhs. Hence her placing 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 it coming 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 village. They smashed the ice down, and their claws 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 their comrades.

[Cryomancer]. What had Illphres always said? Oh, yes. Were not rapid-cast [Mages]. Go apprentice yourself to Amerys if you want to just blast 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 to come 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 third layer 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 collapsed as the Adult clawed 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 blasted them off with spells as they gnawed on it. She tried to slow the giant Creler, as spells flashed out around her.

The ice available 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-Elf laughed. She had started laughing. 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 villagers 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 flash of anger had lasted all of six minutes. She pressed her hands to the ice, bare feet of protection from a scratching flurry of claws, 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 one coming 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 class 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 class? Illphres loomed in her vision.

Cold, Master. Cold. Itscold.

Ceria recalled her latest 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 Manipulation].

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 things lasted 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 shape coming 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 frozen lands. What was this? It was

Cold. So cold it leeched even their burning heat from their limbs. So cold thatthe little Creler was struggling. Uncomprehending. 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 the last Creler advance, dreamily. She did not move. To move was to have energy. To be the opposite of what she had to become. 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, come 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 frozen land, together. What lies there?

Something was afraid. Something saw her skeletal hand. Her smile.

Look at what I gave up last 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 clawing closer. A few feet left. She could feel the vibrations. Hear the malicious thoughts. Alas, 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 glacial speed. With inevitability. The circlet flashed.

Lets find out, together.

The monster was coming. 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 the last great monster coming. Clawing 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 the last 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 village frozen in silence. An entire nest of Crelers, frozen, pulped by walls of ice. Destroyed by a single [Mage] in a land completely 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 claw broke through the ice.

Alas.

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. Incoming.

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 water landing on the village obliterated almost everything in a titanic burst of sound.

Ceria was knocked off her perch in the impromptu fortress, flailing, disoriented, and drowning. To be fair, so was the Adult Creler. It was more confused than debilitated, however; it began to flail 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 too late. 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 far larger band of armed, rough figures. A palanquin 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 someonetaking 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 palanquin, 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 of lapis lazuli.

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 dry land, 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 of compressed water shot out, through the tip of her wand. Siphoned out of the water source overhead. Ten thousand pounds of water, accelerated, compressed, into a beam of force.

The Tier 1 spell blasted 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 collapse the binding prison.

The woman turned away. Her accompanying force of hundreds of [Bandits] and [Raiders] stared at the bloody orange water filling the village 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 her last 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 blamewhoever 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 blamewhoever 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, commissioned by /brack

Twitter: /Brack_Giraffe

Pan, This-GIF, and the Lord of Flames by Bobo /boboplushie

Pets, Redfang Goblins, and a stream-sketch by ArtsyNada!Instagram:https://www.instagram.com/illudanajohns/Ko-fi:https://ko-fi.com/illudanajohnsCommission info:https://i.imgur.com/OmNDuK8.jpg