《The Fog of the Moon》 Story Arc 1: Dungeon Crawls in Japan ¡°This Dungeon is cleared.¡± the large man announced, causing his teammates to cheer. With a practiced hand he flicked out the cylinder of his revolver, dumped the empty shells, and thumbed in replacement bullets. ¡°We can leave the rest to the Cleaner.¡± He added, tucking his gun into his shoulder holster. ¡°The ¡®rat-picker¡¯?¡± One of his men interjected with a frown. ¡°I don¡¯t even know why we bother keeping him with us.¡± He was a tall, slender man, and his weapon of choice was a pump-action shotgun. The large man turned to the slender man and waved his hand dismissively. ¡°He does his job, and he gets paid for it, just the same as us.¡± He tugged on his thick beard. ¡°His problem is that he¡¯s just not strong enough to clear a Dungeon reliably.¡± There were a number of disgruntled mutters at this. Why should they keep someone so weak in their party? He couldn¡¯t even enter a Dungeon, after all. The large man let the complaints wash over him. Regardless of what they thought, he knew that Cleaning was important to Dungeon-clearing. It was disappointing that his friend couldn¡¯t stand the magical pressure of Dungeon-clearing, but he did his job well. ***** It wasn¡¯t too long ago that without warning, ¡®Dungeons¡¯ began appearing without warning, all over the world. Dense with magical power, animals, plants, and even people were sucked into them and transformed into ¡®monsters¡¯. Countries deployed their militaries and were successfully able to defeat many of the larger dungeons with the help of those that could use ¡®magic¡¯, a mysterious power that allowed the user to withstand the strange pressure that seemed to crush the life out of those that ventured into them unknowingly. The large Dungeons were defeated (or sometimes managed) by the military, the smaller dungeons that didn¡¯t require large numbers of troops were left to PMCs that were regulated by a certain global agency. Of course, none of this was important to twenty-four year old Lieutenant Kashiwagi Misaki; what was important to her was a missing high school girl, Shihoko Aoi. Aoi had last been seen when she¡¯d clocked out of her job at the local Demmy¡¯s, a family-style restaurant that was somewhat popular in Tokyo. ¡°When was it she was last seen?¡± She asked the manager, a somewhat rotund man who was going bald. Off to the side a very tall foreigner with braided blonde hair and a short beard was pushing a mop. ¡°I think it would be easiest to show you the schedule.¡± The manager offered, and she nodded. The two patrolmen with her nodded while looking around the restaurant as if Aoi would suddenly pop up from under one of the tables. The manager returned with a copy of the schedule, which she perused. There were a number of co-workers she shared a shift with; she nudged her colleague, who copied the names down on his notepad. There was one, though, that caught her eye; a foreign name. She asked the manager, who pointed out the tall man that was mopping away in the dining area. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t recommend talking to him, though. He¡¯s kind of... well, different.¡± ¡°Different? How?¡± ¡°Well, he doesn¡¯t really pay attention to anything but his job. He doesn¡¯t try to get along with anyone. He probably won¡¯t be able to tell you anything.¡± He offered with an apologetic shrug. She eyed the tall man thoughtfully for a moment, and made her decision. He was on the list, he was right there, she could get it done and over with convenient timing. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him now.¡± She replied with a nod. ¡°Oi, Derek!¡± The manager called, and the tall man straightened. ¡°This policewoman would like to talk with you.¡± The tall man raised an eyebrow at this declaration, tucked the mop into the bucket and trundled it into the back, reappearing with a cloth he wiped his hands with. He took off his apron, and gestured to one of the larger booths, where she and her two patrolmen joined him. ¡°Would you like a menu?¡± He asked politely in Japanese, to which she returned a baffled look to him. After a moment of silence, he shrugged, and called out to the manager for a cup of coffee. ¡°Lieutenant Kashiwagi Misaki.¡± She offered by way of introduction, keeping her sentences short and clipped. He eyed her briefly and then introduced himself. ¡°Cleaner, Derek Richardson. What can I do for you, Misaki?¡± There was a lot of grumbling from the patrolmen; they weren¡¯t nearly as used to dealing with foreigners as she was. Derek spoke Japanese comfortably, but didn¡¯t seem to pick up on the necessary social cues. Her brows drew down at his over-familiar attitude, but kept her composure. ¡°Are you familiar with Shihoko-san?¡± She asked. He blinked at her in confusion. ¡°Who?¡± She frowned a little, her brows drawing together. ¡°Shihoko Aoi-san. She works the same shift as you.¡± She stated. The manager came over with the coffee, to which Derek added a little sugar and gave it a stir. ¡°Hey, manager. Who is Shihoko Aoi?¡± He asked, his face clear. The Manager gave the tall man a frown. ¡°You should make it a habit to at least learn the faces of your co-workers.¡± He argued. ¡°She¡¯s a waitress, a waitress.¡± Derek rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Aoi... Aoi...¡± He muttered, and then shrugged. ¡°I have no idea who you¡¯re talking about.¡± He took a drink from his coffee. ¡°I don¡¯t... pay attention to who works here. They get hired and they quit. Especially the high school kids. They work for a bit and then they quit. It takes too much effort to get to know everyone that works here, especially when they quit so quickly, so I stopped doing it.¡± She gave him a disappointed look. ¡°You really should make an effort to learn the faces of your coworkers.¡± she admonished, repeating the Demmy¡¯s manager. Derek tapped his thumb against the edge of his coffee cup thoughtfully. ¡°Aoi¡¯s missing, right? Or dead?¡± She frowned at that, and the patrolmen grimaced, reaching for their belts. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s obvious, when you think about it. Police asking me about a coworker. Something bad¡¯s happened to her.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what she looks like.¡± ¡°You said you were a ¡®Cleaner¡¯. What did that mean?¡± One of the patrolmen spoke up. Derek snorted. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? My job¡¯s to mop floors and wipe tables.¡± He let out a breath. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I hope you find... what¡¯s-her-name and she¡¯s safe and sound.¡± He reached below the table and the three police officers tensed up, but he pulled out his wallet. ¡°You want to see my ¡®gaijin card¡¯ right?¡± He asked, and Misaki narrowed his eyes at the hint of sarcasm at the word ¡®gaijin¡¯. It was true that there was a certain amount of prejudice with foreigners; ¡®gaijin¡¯ itself was a pejorative slang term. He opened his wallet and tugged out his card and passed it over; Misaki eyed it briefly and compared it to the man sitting across the table from her. Blonde hair, brown eyes, sort of handsome in an average way, his address was listed. She passed it to her patrolman, who jotted down his address and particulars. ¡°Thank you.¡± She offered as she passed it back. He gave her a nod, and his mouth quirked up a bit. ¡°Do you like yakiniku, Lieutenant?¡± He asked, that smile on his face. ¡°There¡¯s a good restaurant not far from the station. I get off shift in a couple of hours, if you¡¯re interested.¡± Her mouth dropped open a bit at this. He was flirting with her? He wasn¡¯t bad looking, but there was nothing particularly great about him, either. Aside from his height- he overtopped her by at least thirty centimeters- he seemed the same as any other foreigner in Tokyo. ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡± One of her patrolmen answered for her. ¡°It¡¯s inappropriate and rude to ask her out.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Figured I¡¯d take a chance.¡± He levered himself up from the table, momentarily looming over all of them. ¡°Have a good evening- all of you.¡± She pushed herself up from the booth. ¡°Are you buying?¡± She asked, and he turned back, his mouth opened in shock. ¡°Of course.¡± He replied. ¡°Do they have karaage?¡± She asked, and he closed his eyes in thought, and then shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve got no idea.¡± He replied. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you at the station. If they have karaage, you¡¯ve got a date.¡± She stated flatly, and then, cheeks red, she pushed her arguing patrolmen out of the restaurant. Outside, there were a flurry of complaints from her officers. It was inappropriate to date a suspect. It was inappropriate for him to try and pick her up. It was risky to go on a date with a stranger. What would her father- the police chief- think about her eating yakiniku with a foreigner? She shut them all down with a simple statement: He was a suspect; she was getting a free dinner out of it, and it was far more likely that he¡¯d drop his guard in an informal setting and let something slip. ***** Derek finished his shift, ignoring the badgering of his boss- what was he thinking, asking out a police Lieutenant?- clocked out, unlocked his bike from the back of the store, and rode to his apartment, shocked and amazed that his half-assed pickup on the police Lieutenant worked. She was very attractive, and just having the chance to ask her out was something to be appreciative of. Sure, it was bad that some girl had gone missing. He hoped she was doing all right. But he also didn¡¯t care. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. It really was hard to keep track of all the people that were hired and fired, hired and quit. Housewives that wanted to make some spare change, high schoolers that wanted to buy things their parents couldn¡¯t afford, Kids, adults, people that wanted to work at the restaurant for a short period of time, working and quitting, he was the only one that stayed, pushing his mop, wiping down tables and stools, cleaning the beverage machine, adding ice, changing syrup dispensers,cleaning the grills, doing all the behind-the-scenes work. In a way, it was better than his real job. ***** His apartment was small, but he didn¡¯t care, he didn¡¯t need much room. A place to sleep, a toilet and shower, a kitchen, a closet, and an internet connection. He checked his laptop, showered, picked out some semi-casual clothes, made himself presentable, scooped up his phone, and left, twirling his keys on his finger. ***** He spotted her easily. She was dressed similarly to him in the way that he was dressed semi-formally, a shirt with a collar, slacks, and a jacket draped over her arm, and a purse over her shoulder. He wondered if she was carrying her gun in there. ¡°Did I keep you waiting?¡± He asked, and she smirked. ¡°I just got here.¡± She replied. ¡°Where¡¯s the restaurant?¡± He pointed with his thumb. ¡°About four blocks that way.¡± He pointed, and gestured to the parking lot- the direction she¡¯d come. She¡¯d also taken the lead in heading that direction. ¡°Wait; did you also drive here?¡± She asked curiously. He nodded. ¡°I parked over there.¡± He pointed, and she chuckled. ¡°I parked just over there.¡± She pointed. He barked a laugh. ¡°I thought all the spots over there would be taken.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Flip to see who drives?¡± He held up a coin. She snorted at the offer. ¡°Get in... Derek.¡± She offered in english, struggling with the natural impulse to address him with his last name. ¡°Japanese is okay.¡± He replied, trying to remember her name. ¡°Is it? I wondered if it was difficult for you.¡± He shook his head as he climbed into the passenger seat of her car. ***** He pointed out the restaurant, she parked, and they went in. The restaurant was somewhat busy, but they were able to get a booth. He managed to order without problems, and he was pleased to see that they did, in fact, have karaage, the japanese version of fried chicken. ***** The date went well, though it seemed she was trying to probe him for more details about the girl that had gone missing. He answered honestly, repeating the same things he¡¯d told her in Demmy¡¯s. He was surprised at how much she ate but chose not to make any mention of it. After a while, and after a significant amount of beer, her tongue really loosened and she began complaining about everything. Her family, her friends, and her coworkers were all pressuring her to get married. The pressures of work. The amount of expectations that were piled on her. Her home life was unsatisfying. The list went on and on. ¡°Well then, should we go to a hotel?¡± He asked her directly. She shut up instantly; he casually added some meat to the grill and moved it around with his chopsticks. ¡°Why would you say such a thing?¡± She asked, baffled, her face red. ¡°Why not? You¡¯re attractive, I¡¯m very interested in you, and we both need to blow off some steam.¡± ¡°Well, that is... I mean...¡± She mumbled awkwardly. ¡°A yes is a yes, and a ¡®no¡¯ is a ¡®no¡¯. I¡¯m not the kind of person that¡¯ll pressure you.¡± He encouraged, and lifted the meat onto his plate. ¡°Though I¡¯m worried if you¡¯re okay to drive.¡± She glared at him. ¡°Of course I¡¯m okay to drive!¡± She snapped. He chuckled, and worried some more as he tucked some of the meat and vegetables into his mouth. His phone went off, so he pulled it out of his pocket and checked the contents, followed with a sigh. ¡°What.¡± Misaki growled at him. ¡°I have to fly to Okayama tomorrow morning on extremely short notice.¡± He replied. ¡°I¡¯m not looking forward to it.¡± ¡°Your job..?¡± She asked, though it didn¡¯t occur to her until she was sober that there would be no reason at all for a restaurant employee to fly from Tokyo to Okayama. ¡°Yeah.¡± He waved for the waitress. ¡°So... about that hotel...¡± She mumbled, and he blinked a few times in surprise. ¡°Yeah?¡± He asked, and she nodded. He nodded back. ***** He took an early morning flight from Tokyo to Okayama, and met up with his team, the Core Hunters, a ten-man PMC that was registered to operate within Japan. ¡°You know Derek, we¡¯d already be there if you hustled your ass.¡± One of his teammates, Juan, jibed. ¡°Sorry I couldn¡¯t make the plane fly faster, asshole.¡± Derek replied, checking over his weapons. ¡°Look at you, checking over your guns like you¡¯re going to need to use them!¡± Travis joked. ¡°I dunno, maybe a zombie might come lurching out from the dungeon.¡± Derek snapped. ¡°Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa, you all cut that shit right the fuck now.¡± Travis called from the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°We don¡¯t need any fucking zombies, alright? Everyone comes home safe and sound. And you guys cut the shit: We need a Cleaner, Derek¡¯s a fucking Cleaner, so let him fucking clean. You don¡¯t like it, you can take Cleaning duty.¡± ¡°Wow, thanks Travis.¡± Derek complained. ¡°You¡¯re making my job a punishment now?¡± Travis let out a sigh. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant and you know it. You do a good job. It¡¯s an important job.¡± He tucked an unlit cigarette into the corner of his mouth. ¡°But I wish you could just get into the Dungeons like the rest of us.¡± Derek sighed. He wanted to go in, too. He just didn¡¯t have the capability to resist the magical pressure that came from inside a Dungeon, though. His job was to wait outside a Dungeon and kill monsters that escaped, hunt down any monsters that might have wandered away from a Dungeon before it was raided, and make sure that the Dungeon collapsed properly after the rest of the team left. In short, he cleaned up for the rest of his party. He got a proper salary, he was good at his job, and he could technically use magic, but he just didn¡¯t have enough magical output to do anything useful with. ***** It was a very long drive through the Okayama prefecture and into the mountains where the Dungeon was reported to be. When they arrived at the Dungeon, as characterized by the murky glow at the entrance, he watched all of his team file in, one at a time, and once they had, he began his slow patrol to check of tracks, signs of monsters that might have left the Dungeon before his team arrived. ***** Magic was a bizarre thing that to this day was still being researched and developed. The current understanding of magic was divided into three specific aspects: Pools, Gates, and Elements. A Mana Pool was how much magic you had access to before you ran out. A Mana Gate controlled how much you could let out. A Magical Element was an affinity. Some people had a very small mana pool, some people had a very large mana pool, some people had a very large mana gate, while some people had a very small mana gate, some people could cast very large spells, others could cast a variety of small spells and effects. Some people had only one affinity, others had many Elements. There were seven recognized Elements. Earth, Air, Fire, Water, Light, Dark, and Arcana. The Primary Four, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water were the most common. Less common were Light and Dark, with Dark being considered extremely rare. The rarest Element was Arcana, an Element that did not behave at all like any of the other Elements. Derek was an outlier in many aspects. If the strongest magician in the world had a magic pool the size of a lake, his was the size of an ocean. In fact, it was considered immeasurable. His Elemental Affinity was also an outlier; Arcana. However, his Mana Gate was infinitesimal. If his mana pool was an ocean, his gate only allowed him to use a teaspoon of it at a time. He couldn¡¯t use enough of his Mana to resist the Magical Pressure of a simple Dungeon, nor could he cast spells. But, since he could technically use magic, his name went on a register, and he was allowed to join a PMC. So, he poured his magic into his bullets, a little at a time, and then hunted magical creatures that wandered out from, or near Dungeons. He never had the chance to improve his abilities by hunting in Dungeons. ***** Up ahead was a deer with crystalline, glassy antlers. Probably harmless, but a monster was a monster. He switched from his shotgun to his AK-47; crouched down and tapped off a shot. The deer turned to face him; he tapped off two more shots, catching it in the neck. The deer screamed, and its antlers glowed; a whirlwind launched itself towards him, picking up dirt, small rocks, branches and leaves. Derek dove between several trees, tripped over a branch, turned the fall into a loose roll, struggled to his feet and just made it as the deer cannoned into him. He dropped his AK and pulled his handgun, fired off several shots into the deer¡¯s midsection as it whirled past him. ¡°The fuck am I doing.¡± He complained to himself, dropping his pistol and unslinging his shotgun. The deer was coming again; he crouched down as it lunged and unloaded the full magazine into it, blasting off a foreleg, tearing chunks out of its flesh. Blood gushed from its wounds, and still the antlers gleamed as the deer struggled over and over to get up. He picked up the AK and raked the body; it struggled to get up. He planted his boot on its neck, just below its head, and emptied the magazine into its skull. The deer pawed at the air a few times before it finally went limp. Derek pulled out his knife; the blade flared alight with ghostly-white flames of Arcana; he cut into the deer¡¯s skull and pulled off the glassy antlers as proof that he was doing his job. The deer was rapidly decomposing, turning into a disgusting black sludge. If he hadn¡¯t taken the antlers, they too would have disappeared, and he would have had nothing to show as proof to Travis that he was doing his job. He picked up his guns, reloaded, hooked the antlers into the straps on his backpack, and went looking for the next one. Over and over and over, he ¡°cleaned¡± the area around the Dungeon. He emptied his grisly trophies into a crate at their base camp as proof of his kills. Not only did it show his friend and commanding officer Travis that he was doing his job, all those materials would be shipped off to the Dungeon Oversight Taskforce, the global community that allowed PMCs like his to function; for study. A week later, Travis, Juan, and the rest of them filed out of the Dungeon looking worn out and exhausted. ¡°Look at you.¡± Travis praised. ¡°You¡¯ve been busy.¡± Derek nodded. ¡°It¡¯s been a week.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be here for a bit to make sure the Dungeon collapses.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Derek replied. ¡°I¡¯ll call back when it¡¯s gone.¡± He¡¯d already unhitched the motorcycle from the trailer; they would take him out to a Dungeon, but they wouldn¡¯t bring him back. The others waved at him limply, they were too exhausted to say anything as they loaded up his crate and drove away. After the Core Hunters left, Derek stepped into the dungeon. The pressure wasn¡¯t bad at the entrance. It was enough to give him a dull ache behind the eyes, churn his guts, and make it difficult to breathe. The dungeon looked like a cave tunnel, though the walls were flecked with glowing spots that looked like molten metal, shedding a dim light on everything. He was able to take a few steps in, but the dull ache behind his eyes turned into a crushing headache; his guts boiled, and he felt like he was drowning, struggling to take a single breath. He was able to take another couple of steps, but his legs turned to jelly and he fell to his knees. This was as far as he could go. Frustrated and bitter, he dragged himself out of the empty dungeon. ***** Misaki found herself visiting the Demmy¡¯s in her off-hours to let the manager know that Shihoko-san had been found; she¡¯d apparently spent the entire time at her boyfriend¡¯s place with her phone off. ¡°That is a small relief.¡± The manager replied to her announcement. ¡°So many things happening these days, it¡¯s a welcome bit of news. Thank you very much for coming to tell me.¡± Misaki nodded, and glanced around the restaurant. ¡°That foreigner- he¡¯s not here?¡± The manager shook his head. ¡°He has... taken some time off.¡± She reached into her pocket and produced a business card. ¡°Give this to him when he comes back. I¡¯d like to talk to him.¡± The manager nodded and bowed. ***** Stats: Name: Derek Richardson Age: 25 Occupation: Cleaner PMC: Core Hunters Core Hunter Reputation /Infamy: 1/1 (They don¡¯t have much of a reputation because they¡¯re small; They haven¡¯t pissed anyone off yet) STR: 4/10 (He can carry his full gear) DEX: 8/10 (He¡¯s got great reflexes and can target monsters very quickly.) CON: 4/10 (He¡¯s a little more robust than your average person.) INT: 8/10 (College educated, with two separate degrees in two fields) WIS: 4/10 (He¡¯s perceptive and clever, but lazy and indifferent.) CHA: 6/10 (He¡¯s got the charisma to chat up a policewoman, despite having average looks) Magic Element: Arcana Magic Gate: 1 Magic Pool: ¡Þ (infinite) Magic Resistance: 1 Dungeon Crawls in Japan 2 ¡°Hey Derek, I want to talk to you.¡± Travis called out in the airport. ¡°Dude, I¡¯ve got a flight back to Tokyo.¡± Derek replied, impatient. ¡°I¡¯ve got shit to do.¡± Travis shook his head. ¡°No, this takes priority.¡± He lead Derek into the smoking lounge of the Airport and hustled him into a corner where they could talk quietly. ¡°What is it, Boss Man?¡± Derek complained. Travis sighed, frustrated. ¡°Look, This isn¡¯t easy to say, all right? The other party members won¡¯t shut up about kicking you from the party, all right?¡± ¡°Man, come on. I do my share. I¡¯m not in the Dungeon, so I don¡¯t get Dungeon pay, but I pull my weight.¡± ¡°Dude, I fucking know, but there¡¯s gotta be some harmony in Core Hunters or we¡¯re going to break up, and you know what¡¯ll happen if that happens with the Oversight Committee.¡± The Dungeon PMC Oversight Committee. It gave PMCs the right to operate anywhere in the world to hunt down small Dungeons. For example, in Japan, it was illegal for citizens to own firearms, but because they were a PMC they were allowed to keep and carry whatever weapons they wanted, as long as they were only used in Dungeons. A PMC being disbanded meant that they¡¯d have to leave the country, and then sit idle in a neutral area, hoping to get picked up by another PMC. They¡¯d lose their agency, they¡¯d lose their identity, and frankly, they¡¯d lose their money, since they were only paid per Dungeon. ¡°So I¡¯m out, then... is it?¡± Derek replied, disappointed and hurt. Derek and Travis had been friends for a long time, but it seemed like that friendship only went so far. It made sense; Travis was protecting his livelihood, his team¡¯s livelihood, and their ability to operate in a nation that didn¡¯t much like them. Travis snorted. ¡°Pfft. Fuck no? We just need to get you up to spec so you can run Dungeons. That¡¯ll shut them up and increase your versatility.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t enter Dungeons, man.¡± ¡°I have a plan.¡± Travis replied with a grin. ¡°Lord help and save us from Men With Plans. Let¡¯s hear it.¡± Derek complained. ¡°You and I head to Nagoya and drive up to Mount Ena. Like, right now. There¡¯s a couple of rumors that there¡¯s a baby Dungeon in the making.¡± ¡°Annnd?¡± Derek replied. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if it¡¯s a baby or not, I still can¡¯t go.¡± Travis sighed. ¡°Look. I¡¯ll go in and grab the core. You just stand inside the entrance and I¡¯ll hand it off to you. Pour all your magic into the core, possess it, and boom! Problem solved. If we¡¯re lucky, it¡¯ll pry open your Gate enough so that you can resist Dungeon Pressure.¡± ¡°...¡¯if we¡¯re lucky¡¯.¡± Derek repeated. ¡°Look, let¡¯s be realistic here; what do we do if it doesn¡¯t?¡± Travis¡¯ face went grim. ¡°Then we keep doing it, over and over, until you can. I¡¯m not losing my fucking job over this.¡± Derek shook his head. ¡°You think the rest of the Core Hunters will be fine with me taking a share of the Dungeon pay?¡± Travis shrugged. ¡°It¡¯ll get them to shut up. You¡¯re useful, man. You do your job, and you¡¯re good at it. With you inside the Dungeon, we can take bigger Dungeons.¡± Derek sighed. ¡°When do we leave?¡± ¡°Right fucking now.¡± He glanced at his phone. ¡°Well, in about fifteen minutes. The other Core Hunters don¡¯t know I¡¯ve sent our gear ahead to Nagoya. It¡¯s just you and me.¡± ¡°Fucking great.¡± Derek complained. Travis grinned. ¡°I know, right? Let¡¯s go!¡± ***** The trip was cramped and uncomfortable, the drive was quiet and uncomfortable. ¡°Awfully silent over there.¡± Travis observed. ¡°It¡¯s easier to kick me to the curb, you know.¡± Travis shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s a big ¡®Fuck You¡¯ to our friendship. I can¡¯t do that. I won¡¯t do that. Besides, what¡¯ll likely happen is that I¡¯ll have to stick someone else on Cleaner duty, they¡¯ll do a shit job, so I¡¯ll have to cut them loose, which means I¡¯d have to do it again and again and again until there¡¯s no Core Hunters. It¡¯s slow death. I want you on the team. I want the ... flexibility... of adding you to the Dungeon Group in case someone is sick, gets injured, or, saints preserve us, taps out.¡± Travis shook his head. ¡°Show them you can walk into a Dungeon any time you want, and your value to the team goes up. If you want to Dungeon, you can Dungeon. If you want to choose to Clean, you can Clean. Hell, you¡¯re good at Cleaning.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Just... prove to them you¡¯re worth more than Cleaning. That¡¯s it. They¡¯ll shut up.¡± Derek scratched his beard. ¡°Long speech for a fat guy.¡± Travis snorted and gave Derek the bird. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard much about baby Dungeons.¡± Derek muttered. He used his smartphone to find anything on them, but to no avail. Travis shrugged. ¡°They don¡¯t go very deep at all, there¡¯s not a lot of room for monsters. The really small ones are like closet-sized. You probably don¡¯t remember your first Dungeon, where they have you tap a Core, but the Cores for that are usually farmed from baby Dungeons.¡± Derek sighed. ¡°So I grab a Core, pour in my magic, little by little, drop by drop, while desperately trying to not die.¡± ¡°Well, unless you want to stop being a Dungeon-diver.¡± Travis replied. ¡°A mage without a PMC, working a normal job, constantly surveilled until the day I die.¡± Derek complained in dolorous tones. ¡°Don¡¯t forget they won¡¯t allow you to have relationships without their consent, your partner and any children will constantly be required to undergo checks of magical aptitude... unless you really like the idea of living on the Artificial Island and being used in breeding experiments.¡± Travis replied. ¡°They don¡¯t really do that.¡± Derek replied. Travis raised an eyebrow. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t surprise me at all if they did.¡± Derek grumbled at this. ¡°I¡¯m gonna clean the weapons.¡± ¡°You always do.¡± Travis argued. ¡°They should be fine.¡± ¡°I just don¡¯t feel comfortable with a gun I haven¡¯t disassembled and cleaned myself. The baggage handlers at the airport might¡¯ve fucked something up. Some other PMC might¡¯ve fucked them up. I dunno. It¡¯s better to be safe.¡± ¡°Check mine too, then.¡± Travis retorted. ¡°Roger-roger.¡± Derek replied, squeezing through the seats to get into the back of the van. A Dungeon Core was a glassy ball of condensed magic that constructed a Dungeon around it as it sank further and further into the ground. Magical Pressure was what actually carved the tunnels and chambers, warped animals, plants and people into monsters. To conquer a Dungeon, one simply had to destroy the Core, which wasn¡¯t terribly hard to do. However, in order to gain new abilities, expand your powers, and gain new strengths, you had to tap the Core, which meant you needed to grab hold of the Core, and pour your magic into it, until you overwrote the Core¡¯s magic with your own, and this had to be done inside the Dungeon. Take the Core out of the Dungeon, and the Core would break. No reward for conquering the Dungeon or Tapping the Core. The first Dungeon was just a hole in the ground at the Mount Ena Shrine. It wasn¡¯t difficult at all to Tap, Derek simply had to reach into the ground, grope around for a moment to find the Core, which was roughly the size of a marble, and Tap it, trickling his mana into it a bit at a time. The tiny core crumbled away to dust in his hands, and nothing happened. ¡°Pfft. Probably a mana boost to your already impossible mana pool.¡± Travis joked. ¡°We¡¯ve got five miles to the peak, let¡¯s find some more.¡± One of the Cores gave Derek the Wind Element, and several gave him a temporary resistance, long enough for him to actually run into a somewhat larger ¡®Baby Dungeon¡¯ and sit there among the seething crystals and trickle his mana into a softball-sized core. ¡°You know, we¡¯d probably have a lot more luck if we did this at Fuji.¡± Derek complained. Nobody really knew the reason why Dungeons typically sprang up in the wilds, or why they seemed to prefer mountains, it was just a thing that they did. ¡°No way. Nope. Fuji¡¯s covered in military and privately backed PMCs owned by the Emperor of Japan. They shoot on sight and do not ask questions. That¡¯s a great way to get your shit pushed in.¡± Travis replied, mopping his broad face with a towel he¡¯d soaked in water. ¡°So we tour other mountains in the hope that I get a larger Gate?¡± ¡°Just so. You feel any different?¡± ¡°Tired and sweaty.¡± Derek replied. ¡°Ugh. Might need to find a larger Dungeon, grab the Core without Tapping it, and bring it to the entrance...¡± Travis mused. ¡°These piddly things aren¡¯t doing a lot for you.¡± ¡°That might kill me with the Magical Pressure.¡± Derek reminded him. ¡°Yeah, but what other ideas you got?¡± Derek looked down at his hands and breathed out a heavy sigh. ¡°I could do this ¡®baby dungeon¡¯ hunting for a long fucking time, I think. Well, if I didn¡¯t need food, a place to sleep, modern conveniences of living, toilet paper...¡± He trailed off. Travis burst into laughter at that. ¡°We actually can¡¯t. Shit like this is usually managed by the Committee. They need Cores for their new recruits, after all. We¡¯ve got this weekend, and then that¡¯s about it.¡± Derek pointed to a discolored wedge of rock on the slope of the mountain. ¡°That might be another Dungeon.¡± They scrambled over boulders, scaled up the cliffside, scraped knees, bumped elbows, and arrived at the spot. ¡°Mmm. Definitely bigger than a ¡®baby¡¯.¡± Travis agreed. ¡°Give me my shotgun and revolver and I¡¯ll go take a peek.¡± Derek passed them over and settled himself down to wait. The sun went down, and the moon came up; Derek made a small camp and used pull-tabs to heat up a cup of coffee. A pull-tab was something that mixed chemicals together to create a hot pack that could boil water. Travis peeked his head out of the Dungeon. ¡°Dude, this place is empty. It¡¯s seven floors, and it¡¯s a dual-core Dungeon.¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I definitely would die if I went in there.¡± Derek replied. ¡°Probably. I¡¯m going to grab a Core and bring it to you.¡± Travis replied. ¡°Eh, it took you hours. Grab a snack and coffee.¡± Derek offered. ¡°Fucking truth.¡± Travis replied. After a gulp of coffee, He elbowed Derek. ¡°So dude. You¡¯re getting Dungeon pay for this trip.¡± Derek gave him a baffled look. ¡°That¡¯s bullshit.¡± ¡°You¡¯re part of a PMC, you¡¯ve been Tapping Cores and defeating Dungeons.¡± ¡°Jesus, don¡¯t do that. What a horrible reputation: Derek the Baby Dungeon Killer.¡± Travis burst into laughter at this, and after a moment Derek joined in. Even though they were a PMC with full authorization to act towards their goal of conquering Dungeons, they didn¡¯t set up a camp on the mountain. There was a designated campsite near Ena, but it was too far away, and they likely wouldn¡¯t be there long. After a bit of rest, Travis explained the interior to Derek. ¡°It¡¯ll take me about four hours to get the first Core back here, now that I know the route. Start your timer when I go in, and peek in about fifteen minutes or so towards the deadline.¡± ¡°If my eyeballs explode, that means you¡¯re heading my way.¡± Travis barked a laugh. ¡°Just stick your arm in up to the shoulder if you can.¡± He waited for Derek to set up a timer on his smartphone, nodded to Derek, and slipped into the Dungeon. A dungeon with multiple floors was considered a hazard, and depending on the number of floors, it would require either a large PMC or active military engagement. Small PMCs like the Core Hunters wouldn¡¯t even be allowed inside because of the risks. The same could be applied to Dungeons with multiple Cores. However, the fact that the Dungeon was deserted and had no monsters would work in their favor. Mount Ena had a variety of plants and animals and plenty of foot traffic from all sorts of people, but the way it was positioned, apparently nothing had gotten inside or had been turned into monsters. ¡°It¡¯d be nice if I could go into Dungeons, I suppose.¡± Derek muttered to himself. ¡°Who doesn¡¯t like a bigger paycheck, after all?¡± He sighed. Really, deep down, he didn¡¯t want to have anything to do with them. To conquer a Dungeon, you had to have magic. If you had magic, you went on a registry. When you were on the registry, you were followed, you were monitored, and the people you associated with were occasionally (but discreetly) checked for magical influences. Magic wasn¡¯t completely understood, after all, and it was possible that it spread out from you like radiation. He liked being inconspicuous, a face in the crowd, living a quiet, normal, everyday life- even though he hadn¡¯t lived a normal everyday life since the age of twelve. The idea, the concept of anonymity appealed to him. He checked the time and waved to the drone that he couldn¡¯t see, the drone that was no doubt circling overhead somewhere. The timer ran out; he stuck his arm into the Dungeon and waved it around like an idiot. Light and sound from one to the other didn¡¯t pass; he couldn¡¯t hear or see Travis, nor could Travis hear or see him. Phone and Radio signals didn¡¯t work either. They were like extra-dimensional pockets. A hand grabbed his wrist and he froze, but it rotated his arm so that it was palm down and placed on a smooth glass surface. Something that smooth had to be huge. A beach ball? One of those yoga balls? His hand went numb and tingly; He focused his magic through his hand and into the Core. How long would it take to Tap it? If it was fucking huge, like he thought it was, it could take hours. Days, maybe? Weeks? The largest thing he¡¯d ever put his magic into was his knife when he was cutting off bits from the monsters he killed. No... no. There was those testing modules that he¡¯d had to fill when it was discovered he had the Arcana attribute. Arcana was so rare that nobody knew exactly what it could do. Fire burned, air was air, Light lit up things and it could heal things temporarily, but Arcana... didn¡¯t behave like any of the other elements. It could behave, in a way, like all of the other elements, but in a completely different way. He trickled and trickled and trickled his mana into the Core. If he was lucky, when it was done, he¡¯d have a larger Gate, so that he could cast spells and enter Dungeons. If he was unlucky (as he usually was) then his ridiculous capacity would increase even more, he¡¯d gain another element, or he¡¯d receive a short time buff. Most magicians wanted a larger mana pool or additional Elements. A buff was a buff, it didn¡¯t last very long. All he needed was a gate increase. His shoulder ached and burned from keeping his hand on the Core for so long. He was exhausted from constantly having to concentrate into pouring his mana into the Core. He wanted to get a rifle, so that he could pick off monsters from a distance. He wanted... wanted... well, he wanted a lot of things. He looked up at the starlit sky as he drained his magic into the Core. Constellations whirled in the sky from stars long dead. Where¡¯d the Dungeons come from, anyway? The Cores. Where did they come from? Why were people fucking with them in the first place? Suddenly there was a searing hot surge of magical power that backflowed into him as the Core crumbled under the weight of his hand. He struggled with it as it burned his insides. He¡¯d never had so much magical power flowing through him before. He wasn¡¯t even certain where his mana pool was, but he was certain the backwash was another expansion of his limitless magic. He fell backwards against the rock, his arm slipping out of the Dungeon. ¡°Another dud.¡± He gasped as the fiery power raced through his body and faded. ¡°Fuck.¡± He didn¡¯t need more magic. He needed a bigger Gate. He tried to struggle to a sitting position as Travis came out of the strange fold in the earth. ¡°What¡¯s the verdict?¡± Travis asked. ¡°Backflow. Think it¡¯s more magic.¡± He managed, clutching at his chest. ¡°Fuck.¡± Travis replied with a sigh. ¡°No shit, ¡®fuck¡¯.¡± Travis replied. ¡°It¡¯s burning me up from the inside out.¡± ¡°Keep it together, man. Breathe.¡± Derek flopped and jittered as he tried to contain the new magic. ¡°Fucking-¡± He gasped through clenched teeth. Slowly, eventually, the magic within him faded. He let out a breath and went limp against the rocks. ¡°Think I¡¯ll lay here a while.¡± he decided, when he could speak. ¡°Feel like that one damn near cooked me from the inside out.¡± ¡°That sounds like a good idea.¡± Travis agreed. ¡°You rest for a minute.¡± ¡°More like a lifetime.¡± Derek shot back sarcastically. ¡°You know, when we did our magic training, it was a lot like that for me. The feeling like everything was on fire. All my veins and nerves and shit. Even my bones ached.¡± Travis offered. ¡°Yeah. Like that.¡± Derek agreed. ¡°So... feel like taking a trip into the Dungeon? Maybe that was your Gate opening up.¡± Travis offered. ¡°Fuck you.¡± ¡°No for real. How do you know that wasn¡¯t your Gate opening up?¡± ¡°Fucking-¡± Derek gasped. ¡°Rest a bit, and then we go in together.¡± Travis decided. ¡°Fuck you.¡± Derek muttered, turning on his side and going to sleep. He dreamed of endless seas of milky white opalescent flames, burning and wavering like smoke. ¡°Is this what I am now? A container of endless magic with a tiny-ass spigot?¡± He called out, but the flames didn¡¯t answer. They burned, flickering, like a mirage of fire, a dream of shimmering platinum vapors. He called and called in his dream, but nothing answered. He was alone. He woke up a couple of hours later, stiff and cold. ¡°Feel like shit.¡± He muttered. ¡°Don¡¯t look much better, either.¡± Travis replied. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± He stepped into the Dungeon, this time it resembled a bricked tunnel with an arched ceiling. Pale flames flickered in torches. The pressure was there, and it was more intense than he¡¯d ever felt before. He could feel his own magic rushing out, trying to form a barrier against it. He could barely breathe. ¡°How bad is it?¡± Travis asked. ¡°Wanna feel what it¡¯s like to get punched in the chest?¡± Derek asked sardonically. ¡°Can you walk?¡± ¡°Can you fuck your mother?¡± Derek gasped. ¡°I¡¯m trying to stand upright here, and you want me to fucking walk?¡± ¡°What about your magic? You should at least feel it flowing out of you.¡± ¡°It¡¯s flowing, all right. Feels... weird.¡± ¡°Maybe we¡¯re in luck.¡± Travis offered optimistically. ¡°Sit down and I¡¯ll go get the other Core.¡± Derek planted his back against the stone wall and slid to the floor as he struggled to breathe. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Travis dashed down the hall and disappeared from sight. ¡°Fucking fuck.¡± Derek complained as sleep took him again. He dreamed of the endless oceans of silvery flame again. It washed over him, it moved through him but left no mark or burn. Shadowy shapes seemed to move through it from time to time, but he couldn¡¯t see them clearly. The flames seemed to whisper to him, carrying echoes of voices he thought he could remember. He wandered the seas of flames, unhurt, unburned. The sky was endless black, everything was black in every direction except for the ground, which was awash in silvery flames that burned constantly. It was obvious what he was dreaming. He was dreaming about his magic, the flames of arcana. Maybe he could find his Gate in his dream and widen it? How would he do that? The flames were limitless, spreading out in every direction. He was vaguely aware of Travis picking up his limp hand and placing it on the Core, but he didn¡¯t care, he was wandering the sea of flames, trying to find his Gate. He walked and walked, but there was nothing to give him a guide, an orientation. He wasn¡¯t sure was even heading in a straight line. It was an endless sea of flames, an ocean of flame, a world burning with the fire of arcana, silvery-white, limitless in every direction. He drifted in that sea of flame, sometimes walking, sometimes running, maybe he was even flying at some point, he wasn¡¯t sure. Endless fire, endless black, the endless susurration of flames that burned without fuel, without oxygen, without flame. He woke up sometime later to see Travis peering down at him. ¡°Ahhh, get out of my face.¡± He complained, waving his arms. ¡°The only face I wanna see like that is a beautiful woman¡¯s.¡± Travis laughed a little. ¡°Well, you¡¯re awake at least.¡± ¡°Morning?¡± Derek asked, looking around him. ¡°Yeah. had to drag you out of the dungeon.¡± ¡°Fucking really? I failed again?¡± Derek groaned. Travis shrugged. ¡°I made some calls to the Oversight Committee.¡± Travis replied. ¡°Had to let them know what we were up to. We¡¯ve gotta get back to Tokyo. The money¡¯s in your account... or will be shortly.¡± ¡°Ugh. All my bones and joints are sore. What happened with the other Core?¡± Travis laughed a little. ¡°You tapped it in your sleep.¡± Travis flexed his hands. ¡°I don¡¯t feel any different.¡± ¡°Well, that¡¯s a shitter. Let¡¯s get back to civilization.¡± Travis replied. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but I could use a proper bed and a shower.¡± ¡°Oh god, fuck yes.¡± Derek replied, and struggled to his feet. Dawn was peeking on the horizon; it wouldn¡¯t take long to pack up their meager things and head down to the van. He picked up his things, checked over his guns properly, and slipped them into their cases one by one. ¡°Let¡¯s head out.¡± They began the long trek down the slope of the mountain, avoiding scrub brush, patches of scree and gravel, made it to the van, and headed towards Nagoya, and the promised flight home. ¡°Hey, you remember your training?¡± Travis asked as they flew towards Tokyo. ¡°The drill sergeant, mostly.¡± Derek replied. ¡°Reminded me of Full Metal Jacket.¡± ¡°No, no, the magical training.¡± Travis replied, lowering his voice. Mages weren¡¯t well-accepted by the populace, so it was simply wiser to keep their voices down. ¡°A bit. Everyone was surprised that I could wield Arcana and disappointed when I could only let out a trickle.¡± Derek snorted. ¡°The disappointment came later, because they-¡± He cut off. Why were they disappointed? There was something in their eyes, in their posture- he couldn¡¯t remember. ¡°I guess because I could only use it so little. It¡¯s rare, you know.¡± Travis nodded at that. Travis had gone for the second Core and picked it up from the pedestal- for some reason all Cores were on pedestals- and came back to the entrance. Derek was breathing normally, sleeping, head on his chest. Travis picked up one of Derek¡¯s arms and put his hand on the Core. The Core lit up for a moment, the inside roaring with silvery flames, and then it collapsed in an instant. It took any of Travis¡¯ team members a minute or two to collapse a Core; Derek had done it instantly in his sleep. Derek hasn¡¯t been struggling with Magical Pressure, either. He¡¯d been breathing normally, even with the Core right next to him. When he¡¯d called to report Derek¡¯s successful completions, he¡¯d been given explicit orders, too. Name: Derek Richardson Age: 25 Occupation: Cleaner PMC: Core Hunters STR: 6/10 (How did he get stronger?) DEX: 8/10 (He¡¯s got great reflexes and can target monsters very quickly.) CON: 4/10 (His stamina, while still low, has improved.) INT: 8/10 (College educated, with two separate degrees in two fields) WIS: 4/10 (He¡¯s perceptive and clever, but lazy and indifferent.) CHA: 6/10 (He¡¯s got the charisma to banter with his team leader and not get fired for it.) Magic Element: Arcana Magic Gate: ?? Magic Pool: ¡Þ (infinite) Magic Resistance: ?? Dungeon Crawls in Japan 3 Tokyo, beautiful Tokyo. It seemed forever since he¡¯d seen the forest of skyscrapers. He couldn¡¯t wait to go home. Sure it was a tiny apartment, but it was arguably his home turf. His bed was there, his shower was there. A normal apartment, a normal job, a normal life. It was all a facade, of course, but it wasn¡¯t against the law to live a facade and try to believe that it was real. He wanted a cold beer, but nobody wanted a drunk magician, so he went up to the roof of his apartment complex and imagined he could see the stars, drinking his soda. No intoxicants. He couldn¡¯t drink, do any drugs, and technically couldn¡¯t even smoke. Even Travis wanted to smoke, he wanted it so much that he¡¯d tuck a cigarette in his mouth without lighting it from time to time. He had drank a little beer on his date with... what was her name? He wondered what sort of punishment would come down the line for that little slipup, and when it would fall. He¡¯d report to his boss in the morning. For the time being, sleep. He knew he was dreaming. Once again he was in the infinite sea of flames. This time, however, his chest was on fire. It seared, burning, a pain that was limitless as the ocean of flame, a pain hotter and deeper than anything he¡¯d ever felt before. He screamed and silvery-white flames roared up invisible walls to the ebon sky of nothingness and burned in an infinite spiraling cone of flame that went up and up and up into the limitless black. He screamed and tore at his chest with his hands, it seemed as though his breath was as infinite as the sea of arcana as the platinum fires roared up and up and up. ¡°Get the sedative! Hurry!¡± He blinked at the voice and opened his eyes. He was laying in bed, in his apartment. He looked down at himself. His t-shirt was shredded and there were nail-marks in his skin. He sat up and looked around his apartment. Everything was dim; apparently night had fallen? He couldn¡¯t remember what day it was. He pawed through his things, located his smartphone and discovered he¡¯d slept a day through completely. There was a brisk knock at his door. He opened it, and a short man frowned up at him, holding up a badge. ¡°I¡¯m from the Taskforce.¡± He growled. ¡°There was a spike of magical power here an hour ago.¡± He stated flatly, forcing his way into the apartment. He waved his hand scanner over Derek and grunted; whether the results were good or bad, he didn¡¯t say. ¡°I was asleep then.¡± Derek replied. ¡°No shit.¡± The man replied. ¡°We know that already.¡± Derek grimaced at this pronouncement as the agent ran over his belongings with the scanner. ¡°What¡¯d you do? Did you have a dream, or something?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡± he replied honestly. It didn¡¯t pay to fuck around with the Agency. ¡°Nothing¡¯s damaged or broken...¡± the man mused, and then picked up Derek¡¯s tattered shirt. ¡°You do this?¡± Derek nodded. ¡°Dream?¡± ¡°Probably.¡± Derek replied. ¡°There might be a review board. You know the rules: No magic when you¡¯re not on a Hunt.¡± He sneered up at Derek. ¡°Even when dreaming.¡± ¡°I know the rules.¡± Derek replied with a grimace. ¡°We got our eyes on you.¡± The man replied, glaring balefully up at Derek, and then stalked out, not even bothering to close the door. Derek eyeballed the food in his fridge and decided to chuck it all. How long had it been? Two weeks? Three? It had probably gone bad. He tossed it all and took it out to the trash, ran back upstairs, grabbed his wallet and keys and drove to the supermarket, where he stocked up on daily necessities, then set off for Demmy¡¯s. It was time to go to work. His boss, the manager gave him the policewoman¡¯s card. Ah. Misaki. That was her name. Was she still suspecting that he was involved in the disappearance case? He called her up on her break, expecting a voicemail. ¡°Yes, Hello?¡± ¡°This is Derek, from Demmy¡¯s.¡± ¡°Ah. Now I have your number.¡± Her voice carried a certain smugness to it. ¡°Huh?¡± He replied, confused. ¡°Nothing.¡± She replied. He frowned, trying to figure out what the point of her conversation was. ¡°Do you use LIME?¡± ¡°Ugh. I have it, but don¡¯t really use it-¡± he began, but she cut him off. ¡°Tell me your ID.¡± He relayed it to her after a moment. ¡°Great. I¡¯ll send you an invite later. Do you like batting cages?¡± ¡°I- what?¡± He struggled to follow the thread of her conversation. ¡°There¡¯s a batting cage that¡¯s open late nights. Bring a swimsuit.¡± A swimsuit? What did that have to do with anything? What did it have to with a batting cage? ¡°You¡¯re confusing me more and more. What about that girl?¡± ¡°Girl? What girl? Huh?¡± She replied, and then her voice brightened. ¡°Ah, that one. She was with her boyfriend the whole time. Wasn¡¯t a big deal. I¡¯ll pick you up at the end of my shift.¡± She hung up after that. Derek stared at his phone with a baffled expression. The fuck was that? There was no part of that conversation that made any sense. A few moments later, his phone bleeped with a LIME invitation. He accepted it, and then shut his phone off and began his shift, wiping down counters, mopping floors, falling back into the comfortable rhythm of his job as if he¡¯d never left. Yeah. He definitely enjoyed this job over his other job. The expectations were much lower, and he was able to lose himself in the comfortable repetitiveness of his responsibilities. A young girl sat up from where she slept, sharp-eyed with a stern, stoic expression on her face. She wasn¡¯t certain why she¡¯d been awakened; she just understood that she¡¯d been awakened for a reason. She sat up and examined her surroundings, which made no sense to her. Why was she here? What was this place? What was the last thing she remembered? Ah. A call from her Master. She wasn¡¯t certain who her master was, but she was certain that he needed her. She eased herself off the odd table she¡¯d been laying on, and closed her eyes. Where was her Master now? There was no sense of who or where he was, just a sense that he was near. She was certain she could find him. It was inevitable. She produced a ribbon from her Shrine maiden¡¯s outfit, and tied her hair in a high ponytail and turned in a slow circle as she tried to figure out which direction he was in. Ah. That way. Ignoring everything else around her, she began walking towards the feeling that her master was located. She would find him and serve him however she was required. In the private collection of a certain private collector, a certain ancient sword vanished without triggering any of the alarms, trips, or sensors. Magical sensors, however recorded a young girl, aged somewhere between ten and twelve appearing in a traditional kimono and hakama of a temple shrine maiden, sitting upright, sliding off the table, looking around, tying up her neatly composed hair, turning in a slow circle, and then walking away with a firm step and and an icy expression on her sharp, stern face. Misaki showed up at the end of his shift, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for him to finish carrying trash out of the restaurant. ¡°You¡¯re slow.¡± She complained. ¡°Well, this whole thing was quite unexpected.¡± He rebutted. It wasn¡¯t a complaint, merely a statement of fact, but that drew a faint line between her brows. ¡°Am I to assume that you didn¡¯t bring a swimsuit with you, either?¡± Derek gave her a curious look. ¡°Who brings a swimsuit to work?¡± The line grew between her brows. She did. There was a swimming pool near her station that she¡¯d negotiated the use of after her shifts, which usually extended into the evenings. He cleared his throat a little. ¡°Even if I had, don¡¯t you think it¡¯s a bit sudden? I wasn¡¯t expecting to go swimming with you immediately after the end of my shift. Your call was quite sudden, after all.¡± She frowned at that, but nodded once, curtly. ¡°After I¡¯m done, I¡¯ll bike home and pick up what I need-¡± ¡°I¡¯ll drive you home. Your bike will probably fit in the trunk.¡± She announced curtly. His confusion increased at this straightforward declaration and he considered his options. She was being pretty forceful about this. Was it something he¡¯d said? Did? They¡¯d had only one date, and a trip to a hotel for a bounce. Had she somehow decided that they were a couple based off of that? ...Well, it wasn¡¯t a terrible idea, but relationships were strictly monitored by the Oversight Committee. He¡¯d have to inevitably tell her about his circumstances. What would her reaction be when she realized she had been pursuing a Mage? He shouldn¡¯t have chatted her up. This was his fault. He treated her to a date; he¡¯d let her treat him to one, and then he¡¯d tell her. Even-steven. He nodded to himself. Fair. He thought she would wait in the car; instead, she followed him up to his apartment and inside. Ugh. His Hunter equipment was placed in their cases, locked up and tucked against the wall; the only thing he hadn¡¯t done was tuck them into his closet. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°This is a small place.¡± She observed when he turned on the light. ¡°It¡¯s all I need.¡± He replied simply. ¡°Same.¡± She replied, glancing around curiously. ¡°My father keeps insisting that I should get a bigger place, but I like the place I have.¡± She stood in the middle of the room and looked around curiously. ¡°You don¡¯t have a TV?¡± ¡°I watch what I need to watch on my laptop.¡± He replied while rooting around for a swimsuit, and she nodded. Well, she didn¡¯t seem to be particularly judgemental...? He tossed his swimsuit into a shoulder bag, and then went into the bathroom to fetch a towel. ¡°No need for a towel; I brought enough for the both of us.¡± She called, and he froze. Why would she do that? It seemed weird to him. ¡°Just a swimsuit is fine.¡± She confirmed. ¡°Grab it and come on, the cages are waiting.¡± He grabbed his wallet, keys, phone, swimsuit, and a spare set of clothing to wear home, dumped them into a shoulder bag, and gestured at the door. She nodded, and they set off. In the car, as she negotiated traffic adroitly, she finally broke the silence. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I was ... forceful. I keep getting told by others that I should tone it down, but I don¡¯t know how.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t have any advice for you. Just be you, and we¡¯ll see how it goes.¡± She nodded crisply. The batting cages were an arguable win for him; he was able to hit most of the balls that were fired at him fairly well. She wasn¡¯t able to match his hits, but made up for it in the power of her swings. He was confident that any team would love to scout her; the balls she was able to hit were registered as ¡°home runs¡± by the machine that graded her hits. He hit more balls than she did, but that was the results of his training; he was used to quickly spotting and shooting monsters that were small and agile that came at him from all sorts of directions. His major handicap was that he wasn¡¯t using a gun, but instead a baseball bat. ¡°Not bad.¡± she complimented, mopping sweat from her face and neck. He gave her a shrug and took off his outer shirt; his inner shirt was discolored with sweat stains. ¡°I think I should come here more often if I plan on going against you again.¡± he replied. ¡°I got more hits, but you definitely racked up a higher score. I¡¯m impressed; you¡¯ve got some power behind those swings.¡± She laughed at that, blushing a little. ¡°Sooo, on to the pool next, I¡¯m guessing?¡± he asked as she began packing up her gear. She nodded without turning around. He sighed. ¡°Any chance of a rest, first? Maybe a cold drink?¡± She straightened. ¡°You can rest in the car. And we can grab a drink at the counter on the way out.¡± He gave her a bleak look; she was like the Terminator: relentless, unstoppable, and always on the move. ¡°Any reason why you¡¯re so... active?¡± He asked as they climbed into her sedan. She barked a laugh. ¡°When I was in school I was always accused of eating too much fatty foods. I never got fat because I was always restless; I couldn¡¯t feel comfortable unless I was moving my body around. Now that I¡¯m a police officer, I spend time at the gym or the batting cages or at the pool.¡± She replied simply. ¡°It¡¯s fun and I burn calories.¡± He nodded. His jobs- either as part of Core Hunters, or as a janitor at Demmy¡¯s- didn¡¯t require a lot of physical strength, but they did require a degree of focus and training. When he was younger, he had to do several trips through ¡®basic training¡¯ in various parts of the world so that he would be able to do his job in various climates, but once Core Hunters was based in Japan, it wasn¡¯t necessary to keep up with the Spartan training regimen. While he was no longer as strong as he¡¯d used to be, he still had his focus and diligence necessary to do his job efficiently. In the locker room, as he changed into his swimsuit, he realized how drained he was. Misaki was relentless. How long did she expect to swim in the pool? They¡¯d spent an hour in the batting cages before she¡¯d stopped, was she expecting to swim for an hour as well? He could reinforce his stamina with magic, but there was a problem with that: There were magical detectors and drones scattered all over the city. If he so much as used his magic to do the tiniest thing, he¡¯d be pulled before the Oversight Committee faster than he could change out of his swimsuit. The only time magic was allowed to be used was when the PMCs or military were on a Dungeon Hunt. He sat on the bench and closed his eyes, slipping into a meditative state. He adjusted his breathing, calmed his racing heart. His magic was there, too, beckoning. He ignored it. He was used to ignoring it. There was very little he could do with it anyway, there was no point in reaching out to it. Calm down. Relax. He could get through this. He was a professional Hunter. She was a cop. There was a fundamental difference between the two of them. She hunted criminals, he killed monsters. There was no way she could outmatch him. He was ready. He stood up and closed the locker. Being the only person in the locker room in a public pool late at night was kind of creepy, but he¡¯d been in worse situations. He wandered out to the pool, and watched her go through a series of stretching exercises briskly. She really was indomitable. She stopped when she saw him, reaching down to her towel for her glasses. She slipped them on and peered at him. ¡°Tattoos?¡± She asked, causing him to glance down at himself. Oh right. The japanese had a thing against tattoos. ¡°Hmm? Yeah. I got them when I was younger, before I came to Japan.¡± He replied. She strode over to him- god, she was graceful, even just walking- and eyed the barcode on his left arm, and the simple line art that resembled circuitry that started at his shoulder and sheathed his arm from shoulder to wrist. ¡°It looks like... electronic wires?¡± She mused, prodded it with a fingertip. He nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right. I was... sort of rebellious when I was younger, when I got this. Everyone was disappointed in me.¡± She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. ¡°I don¡¯t mind it.¡± she decided, and pointed at the pool. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡± It was worse than he realized. She was unstoppable, arms churning, legs scissoring in the water. She swam like she was racing; he decided that he¡¯d take his time and enjoy the swim. After all, he didn¡¯t get many opportunities to enjoy a swim like this. The pool was dimly lit, and completely empty except for him and Misaki. He rolled over on his back and floated, idly kicking with his feet, pushing himself with his hands. Suddenly she popped up next to him, jolting him from his relaxation. ¡°Hey.¡± ¡°Hey, yourself.¡± He replied, watching the glass ceiling. Was there a drone up there right now, peeking down through the glass? Or was there an agent perhaps lurking nearby with a camera armed with a magical sensor pointed right at them? ¡°Are you enjoying yourself?¡± She asked. ¡°Are you kidding?¡± He replied. ¡°I¡¯m having the greatest time in the world.¡± He steadied himself by putting his hand on her shoulder, which caused her to blush. ¡°I don¡¯t often get to swim like this.¡± He added, and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ¡°I¡¯m... glad.¡± She replied, and dragged her finger down one of his scars, a gift from a monster cat that he¡¯d had to deal with a couple of years back in Hokkaido. She eyed him awkwardly, as if she had something to say, but didn¡¯t know how to say it. He lifted his head to be safe; yep, his trunks were on, they hadn¡¯t slipped off. ¡°What is it?¡± He asked quietly. ¡°Can we... go to your place?¡± She asked quietly. ¡°My place is...¡± She shook her head. ¡°A mess.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°And my dad will find out.¡± ¡°You think he¡¯ll kill me?¡± Derek asked, letting his feet sink. ¡°Probably.¡± She replied. ¡°Or at least deported.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a problem.¡± Derek replied, and she nodded. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± He replied. ¡°I don¡¯t mind.¡± You stopped caring about being watched all the time after the first five years or so. He was awakened several hours later with her, fully dressed, holding her gun on him. ¡°You have guns here? These- all of these- are illegal! You¡¯re under arrest!¡± He raised his arms over his head. Shit. There was a way out that would get played no matter what he did... might as well play it now. ¡°In my wallet, behind my ¡®gaijin¡¯ card, is my Hunter License.¡± He replied. ¡°You know what that means, right? Hunter License?¡± She glared at him. ¡°You¡¯re a Hunter?¡± She snapped at him. He nodded, keeping his hands over his head. ¡°My PMC is the Core Hunters. We¡¯re registered with the Oversight Committee. On the back of my card is a telephone number... or you can just use the QR Code and your phone will be connected to them. They¡¯ll verify that I¡¯m allowed to carry these weapons.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s your wallet?¡± She snapped at him. Her eyes were hard and flinty and sharp. ¡°I always put my wallet and keys on the table. Can I sit up?¡± He asked. ¡°...no. Stay right there.¡± Derek sighed and kept his hands folded behind his head. She¡¯d probably already called for backup. She was fully dressed, after all. That meant she¡¯d had time to dress, poke around his things, find out he was carrying firearms, call for backup, and then make her arrest attempt. He wished she¡¯d let him get up; he didn¡¯t want to be dragged outside and down to the station with his dick out. She fumbled with his wallet and flipped it open, eyes switching quickly from him to the wallet and back again. ¡°Right hand side, right behind my ID.¡± He encouraged in a low voice. ¡°Shut up!¡± She shouted, hand twitching, jerking the cards out of his wallet and spraying the cards and cash and things out of his wallet. He sighed. This wasn¡¯t going the way he wanted. He was hoping that he could tell her calmly, plainly that he was a Dungeoneer, a Mage, and let her down gently. Being held at gunpoint was... not great. She managed to grab the card and she held it up and he could see her eyes flicking between the card and his face. ¡°When... were you going to tell me that you were a mage?¡± She snarled. ¡°Today. I thought it would be fair: I took you out on a date; you took me out on a date, and then I explained my circumstances.¡± Misaki did something he didn¡¯t expect and terrified the shit out of him; she threw her gun on the floor. ¡°You asshole! You prick! How could you do this to me? Did you use your magic on me?¡± Derek shook his head. ¡°Mages aren¡¯t allowed to use their magic unless they¡¯re in a Dungeon.¡± He replied, knowing that it wouldn¡¯t make any difference to her. ¡°That¡¯s bullshit! You had to have used a spell on me!¡± He shook his head and sat up and folded his legs, hands still on the back of his head. ¡°You called the station, already, right? Call the number on the back of the card. They¡¯ll tell you what you already know- that I haven¡¯t used any magic, that I¡¯m licensed to carry those guns... and to let me go.¡± She plopped down in the chair next to the kitchen table and started crying. He eased himself out of bed and got dressed, keeping an eye on her all the while. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to hurt your feelings. I don¡¯t want to hurt your feelings. I enjoyed your company. I had fun.¡± He picked up the scattered contents of his wallet and tucked them back into his wallet, and then carefully picked up her gun and set it on the table in front of her. She blinked at the gun being put in front of her, and then up at Derek. ¡°Why would you give this to me?¡± She asked in a croaky sort of voice. ¡°It¡¯s yours, right?¡± He asked simply. He tried a smile. ¡°Please don¡¯t throw it, though. That nearly gave me a heart attack.¡± ¡°Do... do you know how much I was looking forward to seeing you again?¡± She whispered, her face runny with snot. He froze. Where did that come from? She was looking forward to meeting him again? They¡¯d had just one date. It didn¡¯t make sense. He moved over to her bag with the bath towels they¡¯d used at the pool, and handed her one. ¡°Your face is all runny.¡± He urged, and she took the cloth and buried her face in it, eliciting another round of tears. This was definitely not going the way he wanted. ¡°So when is your backup coming?¡± He asked when her tears had tapered down. She blinked her bloodshot eyes at him. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°You called for backup, right?¡± He prodded. ¡°I, uhhh, I hadn¡¯t, I didn''t...¡± She mumbled. ¡°Would you like to?¡± Derek asked gently. She frowned at him. ¡°You really didn¡¯t use magic on me?¡± She asked him, eyes hard on his face. He shook his head. ¡°The moment I use magic when I¡¯m not on a Dungeon Hunt, I''m on a list quicker than you can imagine.¡± He replied simply. ¡°Besides, my magic doesn¡¯t work that way.¡± She blinked a few times. ¡°How does it work?¡± She asked. ¡°It helps me kill monsters.¡± he replied simply. ¡°I put it into my bullets and monsters die.¡± He explained. ¡°So what happens next?¡± He asked her. ¡°Huh? Next?¡± She asked, confused. ¡°Between us.¡± he offered. ¡°There¡¯s not a lot of love for Mages, PMCs, or Dungeoneers in general.¡± he explained carefully. ¡°I¡¯ll understand if we never see each other again. I was expecting it.¡± She frowned. ¡°I need some time to think it over.¡± ***** Lieutenant Kashiwagi Misaki Age: 24 Occupation: Police Officer (Lieutenant) PMC: none STR: 8/10 (She really loves physical activities, like batting cages, swimming pools, wall climbing.) DEX: 6/10 (She''s nimble and flexible, but prefers to power through obstacles with brute force if she can.) CON: 8/10 (She has a remarkable stamina that allows her to keep going regardless of the situation she''s in.) INT: 4/10 (While she''s academically intelligent, she''s often a very "by the book" person, and often relies on brute force, or the advice of her colleagues to get her through a situation that requires comprehensive thought.) WIS: 4/10 (She''s easily swayed when she''s presented with different opinions. Her "gut instinct" isn''t well developed.) CHA: 6/10 (Charisma reflects both physical attractiveness, and the ability to sway people''s opinions. She''s attractive, but she''s not actually aware of this. She also uses force of personality to push people to agree with her line of thinking.) Magic Element: None Magic Gate: 0 Magic Pool: 0 Magic Resistance: 0 Dungeon Crawls in Japan 4 Derek was wondering what to say to Misaki when his phone chirped. He picked it up; a text for a new mission. He tapped the phone to call Travis back. ¡°The fuck are you calling me for?¡± Travis complained. ¡°Just get your gear, meet me at the airport, fly to Hokkaido. Simple as.¡± His voice was ponderous and slow, like he had to explain something to someone that was catastrophically stoned. ¡°I¡¯m on the list. Should I go?¡± Misaki looked up at him and frowned in confusion. Travis fell silent for a moment. ¡°HOW THE FUCK DID YOU GET ON THE LIST?!¡± His voice was so loud Derek had to pull his phone away from his ear. ¡°Nothing that can¡¯t be explained by calling it in. You gonna make the call?¡± Derek asked. ¡°All right, all right, hold your fuckin¡¯ water.¡± Travis complained, putting Derek on hold. ¡°Is it- are you-?¡± Misaki asked. ¡°Job in Hokkaido.¡± Derek replied. ¡°I might not be able to go. We¡¯re figuring that out now.¡± he replied laconically. ¡°Hokkaido? You¡¯re really going?!¡± ¡°Maybe. Maybe not.¡± He replied. ¡°...can I come along?¡± She asked. He gave her a baffled look, and then pointed at his phone as Travis came back on the line. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re cleared to come along. Hustle your ass to the airport.¡± He chuckled a laugh. ¡°Using magic while you¡¯re asleep. Man, the kids¡¯ll love this one.¡± He hung up before Derek could retort. He let out a sigh, and then began to pack up his guns and boxes of ammunition. ¡°If you¡¯ve got two to four weeks of vacation that you can take right now at this moment in time, then start making calls. If you¡¯ve got sturdy camping gear, yeah, you¡¯ll need that, too. If you¡¯ve been trained on guns heavier than that pea-shooter, then you¡¯ll be fine.¡± Derek fired that all off as he packed his guns into a crate, shouldered a camping backpack and gave her an expectant look. ¡°I... ¡° She began, then shook her head. ¡°Not right now. I can¡¯t.¡± He nodded. ¡°I understand. I¡¯m not judging you, either. You¡¯ve got your job to do, and I¡¯ve got mine. Let me see you to the door.¡± He hustled her out the door, locked it, and started juggling the case, his backpack, and his keys as he started heading for his car. ¡°Where are you headed?¡± Misaki asked. ¡°Airport.¡± He replied, and she pointed at her car. ¡°...I can drive you.¡± He raised his eyebrows, but didn¡¯t argue, dumping his things into her car and stuffing himself into the passenger-side seat. As they drove, he kept wondering about her silence. ¡°I left my swimsuit at your apartment.¡± She complained. ¡°And the towels. And my gym bag.¡± He snorted laughter. ¡°How much was it? I can replace it.¡± ¡°Just give it back to me when you come back.¡± She decided. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of pool time and batting cages and all that you¡¯re going to be missing out on, you know.¡± He warned. She grinned mischievously. ¡°You can owe me.¡± ¡°Seems like you¡¯ve made up your mind?¡± He asked. She shook her head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I have. I have to think some more. I think I have to ask people about mages.¡± She brushed some hair back behind her ear. ¡°And I think I want to come along on one of your hunts, to see what it is you do, and what it¡¯s like.¡± ¡°That part¡¯s dangerous.¡± Derek replied. ¡°A Dungeon can suck you in and turn you into a monster. There are other reasons as well.¡± ¡°Like what?¡± Misaki asked. ¡°There¡¯s monsters that roam around, outside of Dungeons.¡± ¡°Monsters? Actual monsters?¡± ¡°Animals, plants, and... and things that are turned into monsters by the Dungeon¡¯s magic.¡± he explained. ¡°Monsters are completely different from animals.¡± ¡°Hmmm.¡± ¡°So you¡¯d have to be set up a good distance away from the Dungeon. It¡¯d be like an ordinary camping trip for you... plus gunfire.¡± Derek offered. ¡°Huh.¡± She replied. ¡°So where are you going in Hokkaido?¡± She asked, changing the subject. ¡°Well, we¡¯re flying to...¡± He checked his phone. ¡°...Tomakomai?¡± He offered, and then shrugged. ¡°From there we¡¯re driving to...¡± He trailed off. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a very long drive to get close to Mount Hakko. After that... find the Dungeon, raid the Dungeon, and then wait for the Dungeon to collapse properly.¡± He shrugged. ¡°How... long does that usually take?¡± She asked in a careful, neutral voice. He grabbed the lever that let the seat slide back and slid the seat back as far as it would go so that he could be more comfortable, and then scratched his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Most Dungeons usually take a few days to raid. Maybe a week, tops. There¡¯s also mop-up for stray monsters; that¡¯s my job- I clean up the strays- and then there¡¯s the wait for it to collapse, which usually takes a week to two weeks. Once that¡¯s done, I can go home.¡± ¡°You keep talking about the dungeon collapsing.¡± She prodded. Derek nodded. ¡°It just goes away. Poof, gone. Solid rock. If it doesn¡¯t collapse properly, we have to go back.¡± The familiar sight of Tokyo International Airport filled his sight. ¡°Ugh.¡± He groaned. ¡°Don¡¯t like flying?¡± She asked. ¡°I don¡¯t mind it at all. It¡¯s just... we just closed a Dungeon in Okayama, remember? It¡¯s only been a couple of days. Long enough to restock my fridge and have a date with you, and that¡¯s it.¡± He complained. ¡°I¡¯d like some peace and quiet.¡± She raised an eyebrow, but pulled into the appropriate spot. ¡°Message me when you have a chance.¡± She offered, and he nodded, hauling his stuff out of her car and heading to the plane. Juan was immediately on him. ¡°Derek, I heard you finally did some Dungeoneering. That¡¯s cool man.¡± Derek shrugged as best he could. ¡°It was a trip and a half. Exhausting, too.¡± ¡°Man, I know. It¡¯s the fuckin¡¯ worst. Three fuckin days between Dungeons, right?¡± Juan lamented. ¡°For me, right. For you, it¡¯s been like, what, more¡¯n a week, right? How much pussy you smash?¡± Juan shoved Derek. ¡°Man, fuck you. You know mages can only smash mages.¡± ¡°What? For real? Is that on the List?¡± Derek asked, wide-eyed. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ practically, bro. Like, they¡¯re thinking that you smash with a Normal, she might have Mage babies, right? And you know what kinda shit¡¯ll go down, they start taking babies outta cribs, know what I¡¯m sayin?¡± Juan¡¯s Guatemalan accent was thick, today. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ shit. This is the first I¡¯ve heard of it.¡± Derek replied. Travis showed up as they packed their luggage into an ancient twin-prop. ¡°This thing even fly, boss?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll fly.¡± Travis replied, and then added, ¡°I dunno if it¡¯ll fly well...¡± as the pilots climbed aboard. ¡°You kiss Misaki goodbye?¡± Travis asked, and Derek flipped him the bird. ¡°Guy¡¯s get this shit onboard. Gonna have a word with Derek.¡± Travis called. ¡°What do you want?¡± Derek complained. ¡°I think we need some words.¡± ¡°So talk your talk.¡± Derek replied, irritated. ¡°Okay, so... that last Dungeon, you were doing just fine. You were breathing perfect, and you tapped the second Core while you were asleep like you¡¯d between doing it your whole life. I think you did it. I want you in the Dungeon this time. I¡¯mma have you in the back, so you¡¯ll need both the shotty and the AK because you¡¯ll be watching our asses.¡± ¡°I... passed out, though.¡± Derek replied. ¡°Yeah, but when I got back, you were sleeping just fine. No strangling, no choking. You were Resisting just fine.¡± ¡°I did it?¡± Derek asked, and Travis nodded. ¡°I¡¯m fucking certain you did it. It¡¯ll be your first Dungeon with creepy-crawlies in it, so I want you to take it easy. Walk easy, breathe easy, watch our asses, take your time. Don¡¯t think about controlling your magic, just let it flow out of you. If the Dungeon isn¡¯t too bad, I¡¯ll let you tap it. If it¡¯s too tough, then it¡¯s whoever gets it, gets it. Roger?¡± ¡°Yeah man.¡± Derek replied, an indescribable feeling of eagerness and relief rising in his chest. Finally. He belonged. The flight was horrible. ¡°So who¡¯s Misaki?¡± Juan yelled over the drone of the engine. ¡°Derek¡¯s Pocket Pussy.¡± Travis hollered back. ¡°She¡¯s Tokyo PD, I heard. Real looker, too.¡± There was an eruption of cheers and jeers at this; Derek hurled his sleeping bag at Travis, who caught it easily. ¡°Julio!¡± Travis called. ¡°Yo!¡± Julio called back. ¡°You¡¯re on Cleaner duty!¡± ¡°Man, fuck you-¡± Julio began, and then glanced at Derek. ¡°You given¡¯ Derek his shot? No problem, homes. No problem.¡± Derek let out a breath he didn¡¯t realize he was holding, lay back against the hull of the plane, closed his eyes, and napped. She found it difficult to navigate the streets of Tokyo well. People ignored her, which was just fine for her; she ignored them as well. The only one she was interested in following was her master, the one for whom she was intended. Men followed her from time to time, men with things in their hands that they discreetly waved in her direction when peoples¡¯ attentions were focused elsewhere. Just as soon as she felt as if she were getting a handle on the confusing and conflicting streets, her Master suddenly started moving faster than she could. There was no way she could keep up with him, which made her grind her teeth in frustration. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Then, while she was trying to decide what she was supposed to do, she felt him go further and faster away from her than she could possibly hope to catch up to. Vexing. They touched down in some no-name town where a small truck was waiting for them. They tossed their gear in the back, climbed in, and drove through a long, narrow road for what seemed like forever. Derek didn¡¯t even pay attention. He¡¯d seen the maps. It was a long, long trip through a part of Japan that had been long abandoned. There were slow rising hills, forests of bamboo, and blue-gray mountains off in the distance, the very same mountains they were heading to. A local map said the mountain was an easy climb; several people had stalwartly denied the claim; it was a difficult climb, with five separate river crossings. Rakko-dake, Mount Rakko. After getting as close as the truck would allow, they abandoned it, shouldered their gear, and began the long trek on foot, groaning and cursing and spitting and blaming Travis for every cut, scrape, bump, bruise, mosquito bite and inconvenience they could imagine. It got worse when they found an old road that paralleled the river they were supposed to follow. If they¡¯d been paying attention, they¡¯d¡¯ve found the road and had smooth sailing nearly all the way to the mountain itself. There were a lot of raised voices, weapons cocked, threats of murder, sodomy, and various sorts of scatological and blasphemous promises when Travis announced that he¡¯d head back down to the truck, back it up, drive it through the abandoned road up through the abandoned village, and up to where they were at. They¡¯d hop back in the truck, and take it as far up to the peak as they could. There was no cell service, but Derek took a few scenic pictures anyway. Eventually, Travis appeared with the truck, and they all piled in, grumbling and threatening violence against Travis, who¡¯d missed the road on the first pass. They passed through an abandoned town that¡¯d likely seen the light of civilization back in the nineteen fifties. Nature was hard at work trying to reclaim it, and was probably doing a great job. ¡°Hey, you think we¡¯ll get spotted if we use magic here?¡± Julio asked. ¡°Idiot, they spotted the Dungeon with a fucking drone, you damn sure better believe they would spot your ass shooting off a fire beam.¡± Juan replied. ¡°Bastards.¡± Julio muttered. ¡°Can¡¯t escape the All Seeing Eye of the Overwatch.¡± ¡°They¡¯ll start breeding us, soon.¡± Juan muttered ominously. ¡°Make better mages. Custom-tailored, educated from birth.¡± ¡°Man, you and your conspiracies.¡± ¡°There¡¯ll be a war; Us versus the Normies.¡± he persisted. ¡°We¡¯ll have to participate. How could we just stand by, after all?¡± Sven, a recent addition to the Core Hunters PMC sighed ostentatiously and grinned with teeth that looked like the blades of a power-mower. ¡°You got problems, man.¡± Sven looked like he¡¯d been carved out of marble in the likeness of a Nordic god and then set free; when he wasn¡¯t Dungeoning he was working out, rock climbing, doing everything to make himself bigger and stronger. Once they reached the Dungeon, they set up a base camp, and Travis took Derek to the entrance. ¡°Remember: All you need to do is just let the magic flow out of you. Don¡¯t control it, it¡¯ll push back against the Magic Pressure on its own. Spells and shit will come later. All I want you to do is let the magic flow out.¡± Derek nodded, and the two of them entered the instance. The magic pressure hit, and Derek reflexively gagged and struggled. ¡°No no no, man. Let out your magic. Let it flow.¡± ¡°I fuckin¡¯ can¡¯t bro. I can¡¯t even breathe.¡± Derek struggled. ¡°Yes you can. Just let the magic flow.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t do it man.¡± ¡°Do it anyway.¡± ¡°I¡¯m telling you I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°I¡¯m telling you to just do it.¡± ¡°This is fucking stupid. I¡¯m going home.¡± Derek decided. ¡°You ain¡¯t going anywhere.¡± Travis replied. ¡°Look at me.¡± Derek shook his head, but Travis grabbed him and forced him to look at him. ¡°Just relax and let out your magic. There¡¯s a faucet. Open the faucet and let it flow. You don¡¯t need a hose, you don¡¯t need anything. Just open the faucet and let the magic drain out.¡± ¡°You keep saying this shit, but I¡¯m telling you I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°You keep saying this shit, but I know you can. I¡¯ve seen it. I want you to do it again. Just stand here, looking like an idiot, letting the magic run out of you. Let it flow down your hands, your legs, pour out and puddle on the ground. That¡¯s it, that¡¯s all you gotta do.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t fuckin¡¯ breathe.¡± ¡°For a man that can¡¯t breathe, you sure do bitch a lot.¡± Travis observed wryly. ¡°Eh?¡± Derek replied, and blinked, surprised. ¡°Shit man, you¡¯re doing it. Not bad. Not bad at all. Keep it up. Just fucking stand there and do nothing at all. I¡¯m gonna get the rest of the team in here.¡± The rest of the team filed in, one by one, patting Derek on the shoulder as they filed past. ¡°Okay, formation. This one looks like it¡¯s going to be plants, so I think we¡¯ll see some orcs. That¡¯ll make this tough. Usual rotation if we can. If not, then we¡¯ll stick to guns.¡± ¡°Derek?¡± Sven asked. ¡°Derek¡¯s getting used to the feeling of Magic Resistance for the first time. Let him stand there and remember how to breathe for now.¡± Derek blinked a few times. ¡°No, no. I think I can do this, if we go slow and call out what I should do.¡± ¡°What kind of loads you got for the shotty?¡± Sven asked curiously. ¡°Flechettes.¡± ¡°Hot damn I knew you were on it.¡± Sven crowed. ¡°All right, that¡¯ll make this a lot easier.¡± Travis replied, laughing. ¡°Orcs are plants that look like people. No faces. Fire will burn them, but we don¡¯t have a lot of air in here. Flechettes will shred them up nice. I want you up next to me.¡± ¡°What else you think we¡¯ll face?¡± ¡°Just about anything. Plants and animals both. Bugs too. Remember the rule.¡± ¡°A monster isn¡¯t dead until it¡¯s muck.¡± Everyone repeated. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± They clustered together and started moving forward. ¡°The bugs?¡± Derek asked, gesturing to the fist-sized bugs that glowed with an eerie light. ¡°If we¡¯re lucky, they¡¯ll just provide light for us. If they attack, just hit the deck. That¡¯s it, just slap your belly in the dirt. This is your first Dungeon... with a team.¡± he added quickly. ¡°You need to learn how the group works.¡± Derek nodded. They moved forward again. ¡°Every dungeon provides its own light. Bugs, rocks, torches, so on. When you tap the Core, they start going out. That¡¯s your cue to leave.¡± ¡°Flower.¡± Someone called, and Travis eyed it carefully. ¡°Machete.¡± Sven came forward, his machete boiling with fire sliding all over the blade. He hacked at it, and the vine it was attached to writhed and slithered away. ¡°Should we go after it?¡± Derek asked, and Sven laughed. ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll see what it was attached to soon enough.¡± ¡°Likely a Verdant Mound.¡± Travis offered. ¡°It¡¯s a giant heap of plants that guards the Core. if it¡¯s here, there¡¯s probably a place where light can come in.¡± He sighed. ¡°They¡¯re nasty. We¡¯ll have to save all our fire spells for it.¡± ¡°Orcs and a Verdant Mound. They really picked a good one for us, Boss.¡± a voice called from the back. As if summoned, a gigantic green eyeless humanoid appeared in the gloom. It drooled from tusk-like wooden teeth that jutted from a shapeless mouth that gnashed and growled. ¡°Headshots only.¡± Travis called out, more for Derek¡¯s benefit than for anything else. Derek lined up his shot and fired, working the slide smoothly. His shotgun was a bullpup shotgun with two seven-round magazines. Each 12-gauge shell was loaded with nineteen steel darts that fired in a dense pattern, perfect for punching through foliage. Normal weaponry didn¡¯t pack the stopping power to defeat a monster; the extra bit came from imbuing each shot with magic. The first shell smashed through the orc¡¯s growling face, exploding in a mass of platinum fire that roared like an inferno, consuming the head entirely. Derek, following his training, put two rounds through its chest as well. The monstrous orc immediately collapsed into sludge that flickered with ghostly flame. ¡°Holy shit.¡± Sven breathed. ¡°I didn¡¯t even get a chance to get a shot off.¡± Derek let out a shuddering breath that he didn¡¯t realize he was holding. Travis let out a shaky breath. ¡°Shit.¡± He breathed. ¡°All right. Okay. I wasn''t prepared for that, but damn, that was awesome. That¡¯s some firepower you¡¯re packing. Reload.¡± Derek thumbed in four replacement rounds while Sven patted him on the back. ¡°An Orc is usually a big deal, bro. You just... That was awesome.¡± Derek gave him a shaky nod as the adrenaline drained from him. ¡°Stay sharp, men. Sven, if you¡¯ve got Dragon¡¯s Breath, swap to them.¡± Sven ejected his rounds and slapped in the Dragon¡¯s Breath shotgun rounds, rounds that set fire to anything they hit. Sven likely channeled fire magic into them, increasing their payload. ¡°All right. Where there¡¯s one, there¡¯s more.¡± Travis called. ¡°Chamber up ahead.¡± someone called, and they panned their gun lights around, trying to get a feel for what lay ahead. There was a hollow grunt and suddenly more orcs appeared, tons of them, filling the tunnel from side to side, from top to bottom. ¡°Shit shit shit!¡± Travis yelled, falling back. Derek fell on his ass and opened fire, Sven taking a few steps back and working the slide on his shotgun smoothly, as if it was the most common thing in the world, as if he were shopping in the store. An orc arm grabbed at Travis, hardened wooden nails digging into his flesh; Derek blew the arm off at the wrist and kept firing. The others began opening up with their own guns, discharging their own magic shells into the orc horde. The whole tunnel boiled with silvery flame from Derek and golden-amber fire from Sven. ¡°Back! Back! Travis yelled. ¡°We gotta- we gotta fall back!¡± ¡°Fireball!¡± Someone yelled, and everyone hit the deck face first as a searing ball of flame the size of a beach ball sailed down the hall, through the mass of boiling flame and detonated somewhere beyond, creating a fiery backblast that washed over them. After a few moments they started picking themselves up. ¡°Everyone reload. Wait for the fire to die out. We need to fucking see what¡¯s ahead.¡± The ghostly flames of Arcana eventually died down to a flicker, revealing large piles of sludge and char that filled the tunnel. Someone- Juan maybe- helped Travis up, while he struggled with the Orc arm that was still attached to him. ¡°That was some shit.¡± Travis complained. ¡°We got plenty more ahead, too.¡± ¡°And a Verdant Mound.¡± ¡°Fuck you.¡± someone in the back replied. The cavern ahead was filled with charred piles of goo; the fireball was effective at clearing out whatever lay ahead. Travis used hand signs to deploy his group as they advanced through the cavern and into the tunnel beyond. Derek stuck to Travis, getting familiar with his calls. It was going to be a long week. They cleared out nests of gigantic, mutated chipmunks, orcs, bats and rats, a horribly disgusting thing that was enormous, gray, slick, and pulsating, and for three horrible days they got pinned down by breaking into a nest of massive, dog-sized ants that hissed and chittered and clacked their mandibles. Derek¡¯s Arcana flames never seemed to consume oxygen, they just burned and burned until everything they touched turned to ash and sludge. The ant queen was destroyed and her brood put to the torch; they climbed and navigated tunnels filled with rotting things and spoor, hunting down everything living. A Dungeon had to be cleared before they tapped the Core. ¡°Ammo count, guys?¡± Travis gasped out to everyone. ¡°For the record I''ve got a quarter mag for the MP5 and then I¡¯m down to my revolver and spells.¡± ¡°Last mag.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a dozen in the mag, maybe a spare mag in my pack if I¡¯m lucky.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hope you are. I¡¯ve got three rounds and my revolver.¡± ¡°Revolver.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve got a fistful of buck and then I¡¯m down to my knife and harsh language.¡± ¡°Spells only.¡± Juan reported. ¡°Six rounds of buck and then it¡¯s my machete and fire spells.¡± Sven called. ¡°Seventeen rounds of flechette, fourteen more rounds of buck, one extra mag for the AK, two mags for the handgun, and then I¡¯m fucked.¡± Derek reported. Everyone stared at him. ¡°The fuck are you doing?¡± Someone asked. ¡°...what?¡± Derek asked. ¡°How the fuck do you have so much ammo?¡± Juan yelled. ¡°That¡¯s bullshit. There¡¯s no way you¡¯ve got that much.¡± Travis groaned and scooted over to Derek. He was cut and bandaged pretty heavily on one side. ¡°What¡¯s the story, man?¡± ¡°I make sure my shots are on target.¡± Derek replied uncertainly. Sven nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve seen him. He counts his shots. That arcana of his does the rest.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m sloppy as fuck compared to him.¡± ¡°Well, maybe we all need to go back to boot and learn how to conserve ammo.¡± someone muttered sarcastically. ¡°Stop spraying your Uzi everywhere.¡± someone in the shadows replied, and there was a chorus of chuckles. ¡°Still, that ant nest took a chunk out of everyone.¡± Travis replied. ¡°I used the AK for that.¡± Sven barked laughter. ¡°You bastard. I bet that was in single-shot, too.¡± Derek shook his head. ¡°Giant fucking bugs? I went a bit nuts.¡± Travis sighed. ¡°Give Sven your buck. We¡¯ll need it for the Verdant. The rest of you learn to fucking shoot.¡± He sighed. ¡°I hope we¡¯ve got enough fire to take down a Verdant.¡± He lay down. ¡°God, i fucking hope we¡¯ve got enough for the Verdant.¡± Derek looked over to Sven as he handed over the buckshot to the german born monster. ¡°So what¡¯s up with the Verdant?¡± Sven sighed and grimaced at the feel of the magic in the shells. He¡¯d have to overwrite Derek¡¯s magic with his own to use them. ¡°It¡¯s a monster. It¡¯s huge. Fucking huge. It could fucking eat a bus and have room for more. It fucking rampages all over the place, flailing its vines all over the place. It¡¯ll fucking kill you without realizing it¡¯s done so. I¡¯ve seen them in other PMCs. They¡¯re... ¡° he shook his head. He squatted and loaded his shotgun. ¡°We¡¯ve got your Arcana, but I don¡¯t know if even that¡¯ll be enough. We¡¯ll be down to flinging fire and ducking out of a tunnel if we¡¯re lucky.¡± ¡°Rest up, everyone. Your death might be just down the tunnel.¡± Travis muttered. ***** Name: Derek Richardson Age: 25 Occupation: Cleaner PMC: Core Hunters STR: 6/10 (he can carry his full gear) DEX: 8/10 (He¡¯s got great reflexes and can target monsters very quickly.) CON: 4/10 (His stamina, while still low, has improved.) INT: 8/10 (College educated, with two separate degrees in two fields) WIS: 4/10 (He¡¯s perceptive and clever, but lazy and indifferent.) CHA: 6/10 (He¡¯s got the charisma to banter with his team leader and not get fired for it.) Magic Element: Arcana Magic Gate: ?? Magic Pool: ¡Þ (infinite) Magic Resistance: ?? Dungeon Crawls in Japan 5 ¡°All right. Let¡¯s... hope we don¡¯t fucking die.¡± Travis muttered, and peeked into the room they suspected held the Verdant Mound. The Verdant Mound was in the center of the room, tons of vines crawled all over the floors, the walls, reaching up to the ceiling, which had a massive hole in it, letting in sunlight. The monster was huge, easily several stories tall, a huge shuddering mountain of plant matter. ¡°What¡¯s stopping us from going outside and dropping in some semtex through the ceiling?¡± Derek asked. Sven barked a laugh. ¡°I like how you think.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t. The hole is an illusion. There¡¯s only one way in or out of a Dungeon.¡± Travis replied. Derek turned to Travis. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan, then?¡± Travis clapped Derek on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re gonna step in the room- carefully, don¡¯t step on any of the vines- empty a mag into it and then jump back here. If we¡¯re lucky, the vines won¡¯t reach us and we can just wait for your flames to burn the fucker down.¡± ¡°If that doesn¡¯t work?¡± Derek asked. ¡°Some of us won¡¯t be going home. We¡¯ll dump all our fire spells on it and hope it dies, but...¡± He shook his head. Derek nodded. ¡°Everyone back up the tunnel, then. I¡¯ll take the shot, and... we¡¯ll see what happens.¡± Derek waited for everyone to head back up the tunnel to the antechamber where they rested earlier, then carefully stepped out into the room with the massive monster. He shouldered his shotgun, then ran through his seven shots. He turned to run, but the vines had squirmed over the entrance to the tunnel. He turned back to the monster that had burst alight with patches of silvery flames that spread over it as if it was doused in oil. The thing rumbled, and the vines trembled, quivering. He quickstepped backwards, toggling the other tube magazine. All the vines peeled themselves off the walls and ceiling and slapped at the flames that burned at the body of the thing, but instead of snuffing them, the vines caught alight. The thing rose up, it rose and rose and rose until it pressed against the ceiling of the chamber; Derek emptied the second mag at the base of the plant-monster, catching the base alight. To say it roared would be to say an airline engine murmured. The roar shredded the air, it had a tangible weight that slammed into Derek¡¯s chest and heaved him across the room to slam into the wall. The vines were a massive, quivering forest that trembled and quivered and humped and rolled across the ground in slithering green ropes. Derek struggled to rise to his feet, but he couldn¡¯t get his breath. The irrational panic of being unable to breathe in the magical pressure of the dungeon resurfaced and he fell to his knees, struggling to stay conscious. The whole Mound was roaring with fire now, the vines themselves were slithery torches that withered and crumbled to ash. Derek could have easily made it to the passage, but he was wrapped in his terror, his chest was locked tight as phantom voices screamed in his head. -sedate him- -we lost the entire west block- -no survivors- -all gone- And for a moment, he remembered a time in the Antarctic lab where they were testing his arcana ability and most of the ice shelf burned in platinum fire, a blaze he was utterly unable to control. He slipped unconscious then, and the door that held that memory closed as well, once more shrouding him in merciful amnesia. Travis ran down the passageway, and saw Derek slumped against the wall, unconscious. He glanced at the Verdant Mound, which was a boiling inferno of silvery platinum flame. The walls were beginning to catch fire, the floor was starting to seethe and bubble. Travis ran to Derek, shouldered him up, hooked his foot around the strap of Derek¡¯s shotgun and dragged him from the room and into the passageway. ¡°He¡¯s out of it.¡± ¡°The Mound?¡± Sven asked. ¡°Cooking.¡± ¡°The whole thing?¡± ¡°The whole thing.¡± ¡°Goddamn if that ain¡¯t some shit.¡± Sven breathed. ¡°He could ... trivialize every single Dungeon we go against. He could take us higher up the ladder.¡± Travis nodded. Watch him close and report anything you see to us immediately. Derek had single-handedly defeated a Dungeon boss with his goddamn arcana. What would happen when he learned how to use spells? ¡°Sven, Juan. Take him outside. Get Julio down here. When that thing burns out, Tap the Core and get the fuck out. We¡¯re leaving.¡± Sven and Juan started lifting Derek. ¡°Wait... no. Take him to the entrance, but not outside. You take him outside now, and the drones¡¯ll spot him. Just to the entrance.¡± He turned, looking for one of his men. ¡°Hicks. Tap the Core. The rest of you start hauling ass to the entrance, too. Don¡¯t leave yet. Hicks, you¡¯re with me.¡± They went down into the room, and the Mound was a simmering pile of goo, with a few ghost-lights playing across its surface. There was a hole in the ground where the Mound had been resting; Travis and Hicks peered down and spotted a luminous orb. ¡°Can you rappel down there?¡± Travis asked. ¡°Of course. Want me to bring it up?¡± Travis considered his options, and nodded. Hicks tapped in some pitons, threaded in some rope and rappelled down quickly to the Core, which he gathered up and climbed up, hand over hand. ¡°Make a judgement call. Aside from Derek, who did the most?¡± Hicks concentrated. Thinking wasn¡¯t his best suit. ¡°You or Sven.¡± He decided. ¡°Not a bad call. I¡¯ll let Sven tap it this time. And I think I¡¯ll put in for a vacation. We went through some shit with the ants and that fucking Verdant Mound.¡± ¡°Vacation sounds pretty damned good, Cap.¡± ¡°Where you gonna go? Fiji? Hawaii?¡± Travis asked as they traversed the dungeon. ¡°Nope. Think I¡¯ll go to Colorado. Get some snowboarding in.¡± ¡°Really? Snowboarding?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t beat it.¡± Hicks replied, and struck a pose. ¡°Whoosh.¡± Travis let out a genuine laugh as they moved through the nest of tunnels. Snowboarding. What a joke. ¡°Sven, you¡¯re up.¡± Travis proffered the Core. ¡°Really? Me, and not him?¡± ¡°Yeah. The man needs his rest.¡± Sven took it and began pouring his magic into it. Travis knelt by Derek, and patted his cheeks. ¡°Wake up you lazy fuck.¡± Derek opened his eyes, and for a moment Travis was terrified that they¡¯d open into endless caverns of blazing silver flame. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°You had a lapse. It¡¯s not a big deal. Happens to everyone at least once. You got hit, you lost your magical resistance for a moment, and it crushed you. How do you feel?¡± ¡°Like ten pounds of hammered shit in a five pound bag.¡± ¡°Well, I know the feeling. What do you think? You wanna clean, or you wanna Dungeon some more?¡± Derek took a breath and let it out. ¡°I wanna get off this goddamn mountain.¡± he replied. ¡°Ha!¡± Travis barked. ¡°Good deal. Let¡¯s see how Julio did and get off this goddamned mountain.¡± ¡°You seem awfully happy, boss.¡± Derek offered, struggling to his feet. ¡°We took a lot of hits.¡± Travis held out his bandaged arm for emphasis. ¡°I¡¯m gonna request some vacation.¡± Derek nodded. ¡°After that ant nest, I definitely need a vacation for mental health.¡± he agreed. ¡°Ugh. No more of that, please.¡± Travis replied, and glanced over at Sven, who filled the Dungeon Core. It crackled like glass, and then turned to powder. ¡°Let¡¯s get the fuck out of here.¡± While they waited for the Dungeon to close, Derek marched around the mountain and cleared out what Julio missed. He didn¡¯t say anything to Julio, simply piled his kills in front of the Dungeon, and went back out to comb the area. ¡°Hey boss.¡± Julio called out when Derek came back. ¡°How¡¯d he do?¡± ¡°He had more ammo than all of us combined at the end. He knows how to conserve his bullets. He helped us kill a Verdant Mound. He¡¯s good.¡± Travis replied. ¡°Did he lapse?¡± Julio asked. ¡°Only once.¡± ¡°Only once? That¡¯s some good shit right there, homes.¡± he clapped Derek on the back. Once the Dungeon collapsed, they turned the truck around and drove back to the airport. ¡°Hey Derek, you did all right.¡± Julio nodded at Derek. ¡°A lapse is a hard thing to pull out of, you know? That¡¯s some good shit that you were able to do it. Me, I lapsed like five times on my first mission. Man, I got ragged to the dogs and back.¡± He laughed self-deprecatingly. ¡°I got your back though, you know?¡± Derek nodded. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m gonna sleep a week.¡± ¡°Ha ha, I hear bossman is puttin¡¯ us up for vacation, so you¡¯d best sleep up good.¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Derek got back to Tokyo and took a cab home since Misaki wasn¡¯t returning his calls. The request for a vacation went through, and they were given a month off, paid. Misaki showed up, and Derek handed over her bag. ¡°Have you thought it over?¡± He asked. She nodded. ¡°That Mage Overwatch seems really... uncomfortable to me.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not that bad.¡± She shook her head. ¡°People, being put on lists? Constant monitoring? It worries me.¡± He shook his head. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine to me.¡± She frowned at that. ¡°You can take your gun out of your holster, cock it, and fire- or choose not to fire- at any time you want. I¡¯m a mage. The gun is cocked, ready to fire all the time. Further, I know I''m safe, but I don''t know about other mages.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s safer that way.¡± She shook her head. ¡°It just doesn¡¯t seem right to me.¡± He shrugged again. ¡°You know, if you give me a night to sleep, I should be able to keep up with you in the pool.¡± ¡°You really think so?¡± ¡°Pffft. Nope.¡± He replied with a smile. ¡°Maybe in the batting cages.¡± ¡°The real question,¡° he began, tapping his fingers on the table, ¡°is if you, Misaki, want to be with me, Derek. For me, that¡¯s all that matters. You know, human to human. Not police officer, not mage, not the situation of station or job, or whatever.¡± ¡°I¡¯d be willing to give it a try.¡± She agreed readily. He nodded. ¡°I¡¯d do it too. Give it a try, that is.¡± He smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll even promise to not do things to your underwear that would embarrass you.¡± She frowned. ¡°You¡¯d best do those things only to me.¡± She stated flatly, and he laughed. ¡° I think we can come to an arrangement.¡± Travis didn¡¯t want to report their overwhelming success in the Dungeon to the Overwatch that was solely the result of Derek¡¯s help. Derek had the skill necessary- every round he shot was a round on target- but more, his arcana was both a bonus and a problem. The flames that burned his foes destroyed them quickly and utterly but they created an extreme unbalance with the rest of his crew. A dungeon like that- the Verdant Mound, especially- would have been nearly impossible without Derek. The ant nest would have burned up their ammo alone. The Overwatch wanted an eye kept on Derek. Why? Was it because of his arcana skill? Was it because of his ridiculous mana pool? His destructive power? The only safe way to talk to Derek would be inside of a Dungeon, because at least then they weren''t being monitored, but there was a great reluctance to get Derek back into one. There were way too many unknowns, and Travis was worried about his friend. Derek was interesting to Misaki because he was everything that the Japanese were not. If they were in school, and if someone was interested in Misaki, that person would ask their friend to ask one of Misaki¡¯s friends how Misaki felt about them. A very convoluted and indirect communication would continue until they were mutually ready to try dating. Derek himself was simple. He was direct, straightforward, and as far as she could tell, honest. Her father would hate him. Not necessarily because he was a gaikokujin, a foreigner, but because appearance-wise, he had no ambition, content to work in a restaurant. He would definitely hate Derek because he was a mage. Mages were mysterious, suspicious, and they were all under the eye of the international Overwatch, an organization that stepped on every toe in every organization in every country. She herself didn¡¯t understand magic very well, and assumed it was a mysterious power that allowed mages to do whatever they wanted, but apparently, magic was only allowed to be used within the even more mysterious Dungeons and to use it anywhere else was strictly prohibited. ¡°So what would happen if you used magic ... say, in this car? What would happen?¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°I¡¯d get arrested, obviously.¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°I mean, to the car.¡± His eyebrows rose. ¡°I¡¯ve got no clue.¡± ¡°No clue?¡± She asked, eyeing traffic and wondering if she could make her lane change. ¡°Well, I only use it in my bullets, so I¡¯ve never actually tried it on anything else.¡± He replied. ¡°Also, I¡¯m kind of a failure when it comes to magic, anyway.¡± He explained his situation with magic and how he could only use a tiny bit at a time, compared to other, more well-known mages that were sometimes seen in the news. ¡°If you¡¯re only able to use such a small amount, then why be a mage? Can¡¯t you just... ignore it? Be a regular person? Not be under the Overwatch?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t work that way. It doesn¡¯t matter what your magical potential is. If you¡¯ve got magic, you¡¯re in the register.¡± He paused. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do Dungeons. But you don¡¯t get a whole lot of options if you go that route. There¡¯s only a few types of jobs you get to have when you¡¯re a mage- for instance, I could never be a cop- and if you ever get tired of working those jobs, there¡¯s always the facilities.¡± He let out a breath at that, and shook his head. ¡°You¡¯d have to be nuts to want to go there.¡± ¡°Why?¡± She asked, forcing her lane change. A car blipped their horn behind her. ¡°It¡¯s like a jail. They say it¡¯s not a jail, but if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck and acts like a duck... it¡¯s a jail.¡± He waved his hand dismissively. Sometimes it was hard to follow his metaphors. He sat forward, suddenly. ¡°Where are we going, anyway? I don¡¯t recognize this part of town.¡± ¡°It¡¯s closer to my neighborhood. There¡¯s a festival nearby. I thought we should see it together.¡± He smiled at that. ¡°Do they have taiko drums? I always thought they were awesome, you know? Men beating on great big fucking drums all boom boom boom boom has a certain appeal, you know.¡± She laughed. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. But there should be good food.¡± He nodded. ¡°I like good food. I¡¯m sold. Take me to the good food, Misaki.¡± He announced, holding out his hands over the dashboard. She let out a breath. ¡°You know, you should really follow Japanese protocol when it comes to names. It¡¯s considered rude to use a person¡¯s first name without permission.¡± ¡°Ah, but how can I act like a stupid gaijin if I did that?¡± He asked craftily. ¡°You¡¯re doing it on purpose?¡± She asked. There was a feeling of irritation growing in her. ¡°Hmmm.¡± He thought for a moment, closing his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s like... how did it go? ¡®You don''t have a lot but it''s all that you''ve got; you can turn it into more than it seems, just give it a shot¡¯... that sort of feeling.¡± She gave him a baffled look as he adopted a singsong voice. ¡°You don¡¯t get it?¡± He asked. She shook her head. He shrugged again. ¡°It just means I feel about as close to you as I can feel to anyone.¡± He replied simply. ¡°So feel free to address me by name as much as you like.¡± She grimaced; he was really unfair when he said things like that so directly. She eyed a parking spot and slipped into it. He stepped out of her car, and the car settled- he really was much taller and heavier than the average japanese person- and he looked around curiously. ¡°Good food?¡± He asked, and she smiled. ¡°This way.¡± She pointed, so he scooped her hand up in his. ¡°Hey-¡± She protested. He gave her his half-smile and replied, ¡°I¡¯ll need you to lead me to the food, you know.¡± ¡°You¡¯re really overstepping yourself, you know.¡± She growled. ¡°Well, you can let go, you know.¡± He offered, but she shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s... fine.¡± She mumbled. ¡°Food?¡± He asked, and she nodded. ¡°Food.¡± She lead him to various booths and picked up all sorts of plates of cheaply made food, and made him carry an ever-increasing pile of plates, and lead him to a nearby bench where she began to systematically devour everything she¡¯d gathered. ¡°Not going to leave me anything?¡± He asked, and she smiled at him. ¡°You could have bought some yourself, you know.¡± He barked a laugh and took a couple takoyaki, sticking one in his mouth. ¡°Shit, that¡¯s hot.¡± he mumbled as he chewed quickly. ¡°That was mine.¡± She complained. He laughed and waved the remaining one in front of her. ¡°You can take it back if you want.¡± He tipped it towards him. ¡°Or should I consider this spoils of war?¡± She frowned at him and snatched it away. He laughed at her and nodded. ¡°It tastes good, but be careful, it¡¯s hot.¡± She passed him her half-eaten plate of yakisoba; he picked up her chopsticks and ate a few bites. ¡°It¡¯s got a bold flavor. A lot stronger than you¡¯d get in a restaurant.¡± he judged as he chewed. ¡°That¡¯s the difference between restaurant food and places like this. A restaurant has to care about the opinions of their clients, so they make it easier on the palate.¡± She gave him a curious look, but he shook his head and gave her a dismissive wave with the chopsticks. ¡°Just running my mouth. Filling the empty spaces with noise.¡± She finished the takoyaki and stacked the plates neatly, then tossed them in the trash. ¡°A drink?¡± He asked, and she nodded. They started heading in the direction of the drinks, suddenly his head snapped around. ¡°Huh.¡± She tugged on his arm. ¡°What is it?¡± She asked. ¡°There¡¯s going to be a very upset parent very soon.¡± He replied simply, and shook his head. ¡°What does that mean?¡±, a line appearing between her brows. He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. ¡°Magic happens easiest in the crack between what you want and what¡¯s just right outside your reach.¡± he replied. ¡°It¡¯s greedy that way.¡± He pressed his lips together. ¡°Misaki, can we- can we go? I- I don¡¯t want to be here anymore.¡± He asked tersely. She looked at him, and really saw him. He was trembling and his expression- he was struggling to keep an amiable expression- but failing. She nodded, and led him back to her car. ¡°Do you want to wait here while I get drinks, or should we go?¡± She asked. He shook his head. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She nodded, and got behind the wheel. He climbed into her car and sat there for a while quietly. ¡°It¡¯s just right there, you know? Always. You can reach out and touch it. You want to touch it. You can¡¯t help but touch it. You¡¯re a glass and it¡¯s a drink that fills you up.¡± He explained after a few minutes of silence. ¡°But before that, before the magic, it¡¯s outside of you. You¡¯re a kid that wants a toy, or whatever. You want to win. Maybe you realize that you¡¯re just a bit out of your league, like you just can¡¯t quite make it, and then... it¡¯s there. It fills you.¡± He shook his head and fell silent. It wasn¡¯t hard to put the pieces together; she reached for the doorhandle. He put his hand on her arm. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± He whispered. ¡°There¡¯s nothing you can do. It¡¯s already too late.¡± He shook his head. ¡°They¡¯ll take him or her, and their parents will try to call the police. The police will tell the parents that there¡¯s nothing they can do. There¡¯s nothing that they can do.¡± He wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m being a shitty date. It really was a great time, Misaki. I¡¯m sorry that everything went bad at the end.¡± ¡°I... have beers at my place, if you like.¡± She offered weakly. After a few minutes he nodded. ¡°That¡¯d be nice. I think that¡¯s the nicest thing anyone¡¯s ever said to me.¡± She pulled out and into traffic and took him back to her place. He was quiet the entire trip. She brought him up to her place, and he eyed her apartment, which was a little bigger than his place, spotlessly clean. ¡°I like it. It¡¯s definitely got a better view than my place.¡± He offered as she got him a beer. He sipped at it. ¡°Only a little for me. Nobody wants a drunk mage on their hands.¡± He explained, a strained smile on his face. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want a drunk mage on my hands.¡± ¡°Should... should the Overwatch be taken down?¡± She asked. He gave her a baffled look. ¡°Why would you ever think that?¡± he asked. ¡°That¡¯s a bad idea. They do a good job.¡± He explained, toying with his glass. ¡°You¡¯re given an education. They test you, to see what you can do. They teach you how to use it- control it- so it doesn¡¯t hurt you or others. You¡¯re in classes with other mages that are there for the exact same reason.¡± he let out a breath. ¡°If you want to join Dungeon Clearing groups- either through military or PMCs- then they teach you that, too.¡± He took a long drink from his glass. ¡°If you take away the Overwatch, then what do you have? Governments teaching kids the exact same things?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Likely they¡¯d be turning them into weapons to use against other countries. Then mages aren¡¯t people anymore, they¡¯re weapons.¡± he shrugged a little. ¡°In a lot of ways, you¡¯re less free than other people. But in other ways, you¡¯re free.¡± He smiled across the table at her. ¡°You¡¯re a person, not a weapon. You can go anywhere in the world. You can go to school, get a job...¡± He touched her hand with a fingertip; ¡°Even find someone you¡¯re fond of.¡± He let out a breath. ¡°So what do you say?¡± He asked. ¡°Should I go home, or would you like for me to stay the night here, with you?¡± ¡°Stay the night.¡± She stated firmly. He gave her a smile and a nod. He fumbled for a lightswitch as he struggled to navigate Misaki¡¯s unfamiliar apartment. He needed the bathroom. The light clicked on and a small girl prostrated herself before him. O Great Master, The One prostrates before you in the hopes that the Esteemed One in Their infinite wisdom and compassion sees fit to take This One into his service as a sword to take up against his unworthy foes. ¡°What?¡± He mumbled, struggling to clear the cobwebs from his brain. Girl. Young girl. Speaking in some form of outdated japanese that his brain translated the best it could. Full prostration, wide sleeves spread perfectly, forehead pressed against the carpet. Hair like perfect glossy black silk. This One offers her unworthy self in perfect obedience to- It wasn¡¯t Misaki pulling some sort of joke. He wasn¡¯t even certain the girl was even human. ***** Name: ???? Age: ???? Occupation: ???? PMC: ???? STR: ??/10 DEX: ??/10 CON: ??/10 INT: ??/10 WIS: ??/10 CHA: ??/10 Magic Element: ???? Magic Gate: ???? Magic Pool: ???/100 Magic Resistance: ?? Dungeon Crawls in Japan 6 (Final) As far as Derek knew, there were no monsters that were allied with humans. As far as he knew, there were no such things as ghosts. There were other phenomena that would explain the girl in front of him that steamed lightly with magical power. His bladder was trying to kill him, too. ¡°Wait here.¡± He replied, and went in search for the restroom. He racked his brain for an answer even as he relieved himself. He racked his brain for a proper way to respond. It was obvious that even though she looked human, she wasn¡¯t. Well, maybe to the normal eye she would look human. Could a normal person even see her? He stepped out of the toilet and approached the girl and squatted down. ¡°What do you want?¡± He asked quietly. This One wishes to be taken into your service and become a blade to strike down your foes. Her magical power looked familiar. It looked very familiar. In fact, he was certain it was his. ¡°You want to become my blade?¡± He asked. This One wishes to travel alongside you and strike down all that displeases you. ¡°I can¡¯t talk to you if you keep your head down like that.¡± He encouraged. This One is not worthy to look upon you. What was the right way to say it? He wasn¡¯t familiar with archaic japanese. What did they always say? ¡°Raise your head?¡± Some shit like that? She raised her head slowly. The girl was attractive in a straightforward Japanese way. Her expression was cool and expressionless. She looked like she should be somewhere between the age of maybe ten or twelve. ¡°So how do I take you into my service?¡± Her mouth moved, but her voice echoed in his head. Take This One¡¯s hand in agreement, and This One will be your blade that strikes where you point. He shouldn¡¯t do it. The very first thing he should do is call the Oversight Committee. She wasn¡¯t human, she was some sort of magical being. A magical being that needed to be examined and analyzed. He reached out his hand to her. She placed her small hand in his, and within an eyeblink he was holding a small sword, roughly the length of his arm. He drew it; the blade slid from the scabbard easily. The blade was exquisite, the steel fine grained and bluish in this light. He was right; the magic was one hundred percent his, though he had no idea how it had come from him and taken this shape. He sheathed the blade and she reappeared. Our contract is complete. This One shall be yours until you shall feel fit to release This One from your service. ¡°Do you... have a name?¡± He asked. This One is known as Oodenta Mitsuyo. You merely need only whisper This One¡¯s name when needed and This One shall be with you. ¡°Oh boy.¡± He muttered to himself. ¡°I know. This is a dream. I¡¯m going back to sleep; when I wake up, all of this will make sense.¡± She rose to her feet as he got up; she really did look like an average young girl, aside from the kimono and the sword at her waist. This One shall guard your sleep. He headed back into Misaki¡¯s bedroom and closed the door as the girl settled into a stance, hand on the sword at her waist. When he woke up, he was nearly immoble; Misaki had him in a crushing grip, arms and legs locked around him tightly. He could barely move, and he was certain that he was going to have bruises. It was difficult to move, it was difficult to breathe. He could barely turn his head. ¡°Misaki.¡± He wheezed, she replied by mumbling something unintelligible and shoving her face in his hair. ¡°Fuck.¡± he complained, and tried to tap out, reached up and tapped her arm. She responded by squeezing him even harder. ¡°Oh god.¡± He wheezed, and tapped even harder. It was perhaps only luck that she hadn¡¯t wrapped her arms around his neck; he may not even have woken up at all. ¡°I think she¡¯s strong enough to pull my head off my neck if she really tried.¡± He wheezed. She shifted against him, mumbled something else, and then she relaxed. ¡°Oh no.¡± She worried, and he managed a laugh. ¡°I was worried too, you know.¡± He replied and she let him go. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± She blurted. He sat up and checked to make sure that he could still move. ¡°You¡¯ve got quite a grip.¡± He offered, and she looked down apologetically. ¡°I¡¯m... so sorry.¡± She offered in a weak voice. ¡°I think I¡¯ve failed as a dakimakura, but all my bones and joints seem to work...¡± He decided, and flexed his hands. ¡°They work.¡± He prodded his shoulder where she¡¯d dug her fingers in; it was tender and sore. ¡°That¡¯ll hurt for a bit.¡± He shifted around so that he could free himself from her legs and patted himself over. ¡°Nothing broken, I think.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t do it again.¡± She mumbled. After he poked and prodded himself, he patted her on the head. ¡°You¡¯re forgiven. Breakfast?¡± She frowned at that and curled up a bit on the bed. ¡°Just like that?¡± He gave her a curious look. ¡°You apologized and promised you wouldn¡¯t do it again. That¡¯s enough for me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re definitely strange.¡± She decided. ¡°Well, if you tried to pull my head off, we¡¯d be having a different conversation. I think this is enough.¡± He replied, and then repeated what he offered earlier. ¡°Breakfast?¡± She curled up in her bed, arms hugging her knees to her chest. ¡°When is your next Dungeon?¡± ¡°My team¡¯s on vacation. I have a month off.¡± He replied simply. ¡°I applied for a vacation, myself.¡± She replied. ¡°Would you like to spend the time on dates with me?¡± She asked thoughtfully. Derek swung his feet off the bed and thought for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t mind at all. I¡¯ve got enough funds.¡± He decided after a moment. ¡°We¡¯ve been to batting cages, festivals, wall climbing, swimming pools, and things like that, what else would you like?¡± He asked. ¡°What do you like to do?¡± She asked curiously. ¡°...¡± He started to say something, stopped, and tried to think. ¡°I like eating food, having sex with you, I like guitar, I like guns, I like laying in the park doing nothing but reading books... and I like traveling around Japan.¡± She tensed up when he casually mentioned sex. ¡°To say something like that so casually.¡± She growled. He gave her a wide-eyed look. ¡°What, you don¡¯t like it?¡± He asked. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t say something like that so casually!¡± She argued. ¡°But there¡¯s nobody else here to hear.¡± He replied, ignoring the girl that might or might not be outside her room right now. ¡°I figured I might as well be completely honest with you.¡± She let out an angry breath. ¡°Still!¡± She spat. ¡°It¡¯s much too direct!¡± He shrugged a little. ¡°I can¡¯t help it. I¡¯m not so great with lying.¡± She growled at him. ¡°It¡¯s not about lying. It¡¯s about tact.¡± He thought for a moment. ¡°I guess I¡¯m not so great with that, either. So? What would you like to do?¡± He asked, changing the subject. ¡°How about... a picnic in a park. Bring your guitar.¡± She decided. ¡°And...¡± She reached out and touched his arm. ¡°Before that...¡± He glanced at her. ¡°Is that tact?¡± He asked teasingly. ¡°Shut up.¡± She complained. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Misaki didn¡¯t notice Mitsuyo even when they were standing next to each other. It was weird and disconcerting to Derek, but Mitsuyo frowned at him, her expression stern. This One does not need to be seen by others. She had one hell of a resting bitch face. ¡°Should we go to a park where we can eat... or a park where we can hike?¡± Derek asked. ¡°I know you like to move your body around.¡± ¡°Hiking sounds nice... some other time. Today I¡¯ll try to do things at your pace.¡± ¡°All right. I¡¯ll take the train to my place and change my clothes.¡± ¡°Why take the train? I¡¯ll drive you.¡± she asked curiously. What an uncomfortable feeling. On the way to the park, the subject of guns came up. ¡°I think I¡¯d like to see what you¡¯re like with a gun, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s possible to take you to the police range. There would be too many questions, and once it was found out that you were a mage...¡± Misaki mused. He nodded. ¡°Mage facilities are probably a no-go for you as well. There¡¯s no way to guarantee your safety, after all. It¡¯s strange: To me, you¡¯re a civilian. To you, I would be a civilian. Weird how that works out, right?¡± She nodded. Derek and Misaki had a quiet picnic date in a small park while Mitsuyo paced around aggressively, her stern face glaring at everything. While Misaki napped, Derek tried to figure out his connection with Mitsuyo. Wherever a mage went, there were sensors tuned to pick up the slightest use of magic, and yet, nobody seemed to react to the girl, despite the fact that she seemed to be an enormous mass of it. No agents appeared, there didn¡¯t seem to be any indication that he was on ¡®The List¡¯ since the time he used magic in his sleep. What was she, really? He wondered if other mages could see her. He eyed Misaki, who was half-curled up like a cat, head on his lap. ¡°Mitsuyo.¡± This One is here. ¡°Why can¡¯t they see you? Or sense you?¡± She frowned at that. She frowned at everything, but this question seemed to upset her from a different direction. This One is on the other side of the mirror. ¡°The other side of the mirror?¡± He asked. They reach for me, but their fingers touch only glass. They do not see me, but only what is reflected. Derek fromwed. Like that made any sense. She is waking. This One will continue her duties. Misaki stirred, and rubbed her eyes. ¡°Naps are nice, but I feel sluggish.¡± She complained. ¡°You want to run a few laps around the park?¡± Derek asked. She gave him a complicated look. ¡°Are you treating me like some sort of puppy?¡± He gave her a look in return. ¡°Why does everything have to be a competition or confrontation with you?¡± He asked. ¡°I¡¯m not-¡± He took a breath. ¡°You seem happy running around, climbing things, being active and athletic. I can do those things, but not as... enthusiastically as you. You enjoy those things a lot more than I do.¡± Her eyes narrowed at that. ¡°I¡¯m a hunter. It requires a different skill set than what you do.¡± He added. He flexed his hands and massaged his leg where she¡¯d napped, easing the soreness out of them. ¡°What skills do a hunter need?¡± She asked as she packed up the cooler. ¡°Speed and hand-eye coordination are important, of course.¡± He replied. ¡°But I think the real skills are more like... stamina, cunning and... patience.¡± he decided. ¡°Patience?¡± She asked with a frown. He nodded. ¡°If you¡¯re clever enough, you can see your prey coming long before they see you. Wait long enough, and invariably the prey will come to you. You have to have the stamina to endure that wait.¡± She thought it over. ¡°Or, on the other hand, you could be like Misaki, and simply chase them down and overwhelm them.¡± He added with a chuckle. She frowned at him. ¡°You¡¯re making fun of me.¡± She sulked. He shook his head. ¡°Not at all. If we think of ourselves as predators, then you and I simply have different ways of hunting.¡± He held out his hand for the cooler, she passed it over silently. ¡°You and I have different ways of doing the same thing. If the end result is the same, then is there room for mockery?¡± ¡°I suppose not.¡± She decided, getting up. He got up as well and stretched, feeling the bones in his back pop comfortably. ¡°Why¡¯d you become a police officer, anyway? You¡¯ve got the talent for ... just about any sport I can think of.¡± She looked up at the sky for a moment. ¡°I suppose I could have, when put that way.¡± She mused. ¡°But my goal we set from the start. My father is a police officer, as well as my two older brothers. My choice was made long before I realized it.¡± He nodded. ¡°Your vacation ends before mine does. What will you do?¡± He asked. She smirked. ¡°That¡¯s my question to you. I have mountains of paperwork and my own cases to deal with.¡± He smiled a little. ¡°I think I¡¯ll talk to one of my teammates. I had a problem in our last Dungeon; need to overcome it.¡± She gave him a look, he shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s like learning to ride a bicycle; you fall off, you have to get back up on it and try again.¡± he replied. ¡°In the meantime... how would you like to go to Kyoto with me?¡± He asked. ¡°Onsens? Inari Shrines?¡± He encouraged. She blinked a few times. ¡°Really?¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just a short flight. We could spend a week there.¡± She trembled at that. ¡°Kyoto... Kyoto...¡± She mumbled to herself. He wondered if it was eagerness he was seeing, or if she was running the numbers. ¡°Can we really go?¡± She asked. He nodded. ¡°Really really?¡± She asked, and he nodded again. ¡°Yes!¡± She exclaimed, and then coughed. ¡°Yes. I¡¯d like to go. With you.¡± in a much more reserved voice. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get this shit taken care of. Drop me off at my place so I can pack some clothes; you go and do the same.¡± She nodded. It was obvious she was restraining herself, but she was happy. Clearly he was doing something right. On the way to his place, his phone rang. Seeing it was Travis, he picked it up. ¡°Yo.¡± ¡°Yo, yourself. You busy?¡± Travis replied. ¡°No, not really. Heading home.¡± Derek replied simply. ¡°Hmmm. News from the Overwatch Committee.¡± ¡°Eh?¡± Derek froze. ¡°...me?¡± ¡°Huh? Oh, that. No, it¡¯s not about you.¡± Travis replied, and laughed. ¡°You¡¯re fine. Just don¡¯t go shooting off magic in your sleep again, right?¡± ¡°Man, fuck you. I¡¯m never gonna live that down, am I?¡± He complained. Misaki eyed him curiously, but kept driving. ¡°Hah! Not with me as your CO, you¡¯re not.¡± Derek sighed. ¡°What does the Overwatch want with me?¡± He asked, and Misaki glanced at him again. ¡°I already told you, it¡¯s not about you.¡± Travis replied. ¡°There¡¯s an alert. A mage went rogue and everyone¡¯s being told to keep an eye out.¡± A rogue mage. It happened from time to time. ¡°What does that have to do with us? That¡¯s Overwatch business and not ours.¡± Derek complained. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me, man. I was just told to pass along the message to the team. There¡¯s a rogue mage in Tokyo, his name is Benjamin, if you find him, report him.¡± ¡°Fuck that. Agents have a job, let them do it. I¡¯m not paid to do their jobs for them.¡± ¡°Whoa whoa whoa, you¡¯re going against the Overwatch?¡± Travis replied, his voice panicky. ¡°You know they¡¯re listening, right?¡± ¡°I am not going against the Overwatch, you idiot. I¡¯m saying I¡¯m not doing someone else''s job unless I get paid to do it. I¡¯m a Dungeoneer, and I¡¯m on vacation. There are plenty of Agents for that sort of thing. Now I¡¯m going to take a shower and pick out some clothes. I¡¯m gonna go to Kyoto and dip in some onsens. Anything else?¡± ¡°Say hi to Misaki for me~.¡± Travis offered solicitously. ¡°Go fuck yourself with a rake.¡± Travis hung up, and a cool, crisp voice immediately spoke up from the phone. ¡°Disobedience to the Overwatch will be punished.¡± Derek sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not in any way standing in disobedience to the Overwatch.¡± He replied to the voice, and hung up his phone. ¡°What was that about?¡± Misaki replied. ¡°Overwatch stuff. As far as I know, I¡¯m not supposed to talk about it. Just put it out of your mind, think about Kyoto, onsens, inarizushi, and what sort of reaction you¡¯ll get out of me when I see you in an onsen yukata.¡± He gave her a smile, and she blushed. ¡°They won¡¯t have any yukata your size, you know.¡± She argued. ¡°I really hope they do. I¡¯m actually pretty self-conscious, you know? I don¡¯t like sticking out.¡± ***** Name: Oodenta Mitsuyo Age: 1100 years old Occupation: Sword PMC: Derek Richardson STR: 10/10 (She can cut through anything) DEX: 8/10 (She''s a short sword, designed for quick, sharp movements) CON: 6/10 (despite her age she''s still quite robust) INT: 2/10 (She''s not terribly wise about the modern era) WIS: 4/10 (Cannot read the mood.) CHA: 2/10 (Very cold and aloof.) Magic Element: Arcana Magic Gate: 10 Magic Pool: 0/100 (recieves her mana from Derek) Magic Resistance: 20 (Not only is resistant to Magical Pressure, but also makes her weilder resistant, too) Name: Derek Richardson Age: 25 Occupation: Cleaner PMC: Core Hunters STR: 6/10 (How did he get stronger?) DEX: 8/10 (He¡¯s got great reflexes and can target monsters very quickly.) CON: 4/10 (His stamina, while still low, has improved.) INT: 8/10 (College educated, with two separate degrees in two fields) WIS: 4/10 (He¡¯s perceptive and clever, but lazy and indifferent.) CHA: 6/10 (He¡¯s got the charisma to banter with his team leader and not get fired for it.) Magic Element: Arcana Magic Gate: ?? Magic Pool: ¡Þ (infinite) Magic Resistance: ?? Detective Kashiwagi Misaki Age: 24 Occupation: Police Officer (detective) PMC: none STR: 8/10 (She really loves physical activities, like batting cages, swimming pools, wall climbing.) DEX: 6/10 (She''s nimble and flexible, but prefers to power through obstacles with brute force if she can.) CON: 8/10 (She has a remarkable stamina that allows her to keep going regardless of the situation she''s in.) INT: 4/10 (While she''s academically intelligent, she''s often a very "by the book" person, and often relies on brute force, or the advice of her colleagues to get her through a situation that requires comprehensive thought.) WIS: 4/10 (She''s easily swayed when she''s presented with different opinions. Her "gut instinct" isn''t well developed.) CHA: 6/10 (Charisma reflects both physical attractiveness, and the ability to sway people''s opinions. She''s attractive, but she''s not actually aware of this. She also uses force of personality to push people to agree with her line of thinking.) Magic Element: None Magic Gate: 0 Magic Pool: 0 Magic Resistance: 0 King of the Moon ¡°Go to the Moon, he said. We¡¯ll have fun, he said.¡± I grumbled as I stared irritably out the dome window at the unbelievably boring lunar landscape. My friend Steve had promised me a month-long vacation to the moon, an adventure touring the restaurants and hotels of the sickeningly rich. Steve, however, was an asshole. The moment we¡¯d arrived on the Moon he¡¯d fucked off with an ambiguous wave and a shrug. To make things worse, I was pretty sure I left the keycard to my room inside the room, and I wasn''t looking forward to the walk of shame to the counter to request a replacement. It was going to be a very long and very boring month. ¡°So... what¡¯s there to do on the Moon that¡¯s relatively cheap?¡± I muttered. ¡°Well, you could rent out a buggy.¡± A gruff voice piped up behind me. I turned in my seat, and standing there in maintenance coveralls and a lemon yellow jumpsuit was a burly man with a walrus mustache. ¡°Eh?¡± I stared stupidly at him. He nodded and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s not the most exciting thing in the world, but it¡¯s fun. Drive the buggy around a bit, kick up some dust- heck, maybe find a chunk of moon rock that you think looks cute, I dunno.¡± This wasn¡¯t part of the package brochure that I¡¯d looked over before we shot up into space. Clearly this was a grift this guy ran. ¡°And how much is it gonna cost me?¡± I asked sourly. He laughed, but his eyes were the flinty type that glimmered at the thought of cash- happy that he¡¯d hooked a victim. ¡°Eh, five hunnerd.¡± He offered. ¡°Three for me, who¡¯ll get you down to the maintenance bay, and two hunnerd to the guy that¡¯ll let you out and let you back in.¡± I contemplated another night doing fuck-all in my hotel room while Steve availed himself of whatever richboy fuckdreams he had at the casinos and brothels that were so ridiculously expensive I couldn¡¯t pay to walk through the front door. ¡°Fuck it. Fine. I¡¯m in.¡± I capitulated, and reached for my wallet. ¡°No, no, no, not here, not on camera.¡± He urged, and then motioned for me to follow him. ***** I followed the guy down into a maintenance corridor where I obligingly handed over three hundred dollars. He grinned and pointed the way. I followed him down and through a mess of maze-like corridors, already accepting that I was hopelessly lost and had no chance at all of making my way back to the mezzanine waiting area. He stepped out into the maintenance bay, and he pointed out the buggies. ¡°Controls are simple- pretty much like driving a car, though in this case you have to yank the e-brake to stop. The buggy¡¯s got an onboard map if you get lost, and it¡¯s own oxy supply, though personally I go batshit insane after about four-five hours. Those EVA suits are bastard-tight.¡± I nodded along as he explained. ¡°Anything you decide to find- rocks and dirt- you get to keep. There won¡¯t be any problems getting rocks in, and Customs will just wave you through. It¡¯s just rocks, right?¡± He added somewhat sarcastically. I nodded. ¡°The real beaut is the speed on these babies. You can damn near fly when you ramp up off one of the crater edges.¡± He moved his hand in a long, slow falling gesture. Shit. That actually sounded fun. I handed over the remaining two hundred and he helped me put on the EVA suit. Outside... well, it was just as boring as seeing it from the mezzanine. Stark white dirt, stark white mountains, utterly lightless black sky with stars shining hard as diamonds. Stars don¡¯t twinkle in space. That¡¯s an atmospheric thing. So, naturally the first thing I did was kick up the buggy as fast as it could go and ramp it up over the crater, like he suggested. Oh man. That was so boss. And terrifying. I thought for sure I was just going to keep going up and up and up until I was lost in space, never to be seen from again. But no. I eventually leveled out, and then, just as slowly, I descended, until the damned buggy slammed into the lunar surface in a dramatic spray of lunar dust. The suspension groaned and creaked and the drive train squealed and the engine roared in protest. That was about a gallon and a half of adrenaline dumped into the piss-pot. I took a long deep breath and stared up at the sky while I waited for my heart to stop hammering in my chest. ¡°Okay. where to, now?¡± I keyed up the map and drove around a bit, spraying dust while I did wheelies and popped cookies like I was a kid in an iced-over parking lot. ¡°Fuck, this is borning.'''' I realized. I picked a direction at random and floored it; driving as fast as you wanted without anyone in your way and no obstructions to impede you is kinda fun. I came down from a jump and smacked into a rock, hard, and the buggy jittered to a stop. The engine made a curious sort of whining noise, so I decided to gently shuttle it down to a more socially acceptable level, where it started purring again... and then I got out and decided to check out what I smacked into. ***** Okay, so... this was the most baffling shit I ever saw. In the middle of this crater, maybe a half-mile wide, was this... plinth... pedestal... thing. A slab of black rock, polished as smooth as glass that jutted out of the middle of the crater like an accusatory finger. Sticking out from the top of that was an ornate sort of handle-thing. I approached it, and on the plinth on my side was a scuff-mark from where my buggy had hit it. On the other side was a plaque that was carved in english: ¡°Whomsoever shall draw this sword of this stone is rightwise and shall forever be the King of the Moon." Clearly someone was having fun. This was obviously a tourist trap. Come out here, pull out the sword, have a good laugh, head back to the resort, wave the sword around, cheer your buddies, and then go home and show off a cheap souvenir. I reached out and grabbed the handle and gave it a tug. The handle wouldn¡¯t budge, so I hopped up a little, put my foot on the pedestal, grabbed the handle of the sword and pulled, pushing with my foot. That handle was mighty cold. That cold seeped in even through the insulated gloves of the EVA Suit. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. I jerked and tugged, and suddenly I realized that this was probably a tourist trap of a different sort: They probably bussed people out here, everyone had a jolly time tugging on it, and maybe they used a remote, or pressed a switch, or something like that, and the blade popped up for someone and then everyone had a good laugh afterwords. The sword slid out of the stone like a knife through butter. The blade was brilliant, polished steel, and looked razor-sharp. ¡°Holy shit that looks badass.¡± I muttered. The crossguard looked to be made of gold, and there was some sort of swirled symbol in the middle. I walked back to the buggy and awkwardly put the sword inside. I keyed up the map in order to drive back to the base, when I realized that the swirled symbol on the sword was the face of the moon. ¡°Huh. At least it looks good.¡± I muttered. When I headed home at the end of this boring-as-fuck safari, I¡¯d put it up on my dorm wall. It didn¡¯t look too bad, after all. ***** When I got back to the resort, I had to putter around a bit to find the maintenance bay, but otherwise, I made it back without any problems. I climbed out and went through the airlock, cradling the sword. Once the air pressurized, I began stripping out of the uncomfortable suit. ¡°Have fun out there?¡± My expensive guide asked, grinning. ¡°You were right- that jump off the crater¡¯s edge was something else.¡± I admitted, and tapped the piss tank on my suit to prove it. He laughed uproariously. ¡°Happened to me the first time I did it too!¡± He exclaimed, and punched my shoulder in what I assumed was a friendly way. I picked up the sword, and his expression changed. His eyes glazed over for a moment, and then he blinked and shook his head. ¡°Forgive my rudeness, my lord. Was there anything else I could do for you?¡± He asked, strangely and bafflingly respectful. Oh. Right. The sword. I¡¯m the King of the Moon, now. I suppose the staff was trained to respond that way to deepen the immersion, or something? Like how in disneyland the people in the costume act like the characters. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡± I replied. ¡°You mind taking me back to the mezzanine?¡± He dipped his head in a respectful bow. What the fuck? I kind of expected he¡¯d break character, give me a chuckle, and then congratulate me on finding the tourist trap. He silently and respectfully escorted me back to the mezzanine, however, and then bowed again when he left. Nobody that was walking around seemed to think that it was a big deal that I was carrying around a razor-sharp sword, either. It was difficult to carry, since there was no sheathe to go with it, either. ¡°Fuck it. Might as well go back to the hotel room.¡± I headed back to the hotel, and as I headed back, I started feeling the eyes of everyone following me. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s to be expected.¡± I muttered. You walk around with a sword, people are going to stare. Fuck, this is sort of embarrassing. I made it into the lobby, and the moment I walked in, everyone stopped and stared at me. Even the porters stopped. I headed to the reception desk, and the woman at the counter eyed me nervously. ¡°Is there something I can do for you, your Majesty?¡± She asked, eyes flicking up to my face and down to her screen. ¡°Uhhh, yeah.¡± I replied, reaching for my pocket to pull out my wallet. ¡°I can¡¯t find my keycard. You mind issuing me a new one?¡± She blinked a few times. ¡°I don¡¯t see-¡± She muttered to herself. ¡°Your Majesty, I don¡¯t see that either of the penthouse suites have been checked out-?¡± She asked as sort of a half-question. ¡°Eh? No, I¡¯m in Room 1138.¡± I replied. She gave me a baffled look. ¡°But that¡¯s-¡± She began, and then pushed away from the desk. ¡°By your leave, your Majesty, I¡¯ll see about getting this cleared up for you right away.¡± She hurried away, and spoke to a rather bullish man with a well-trimmed haircut. They went over to a workstation away from me and they did some things, and then they disappeared, and an older gentleman with silvery-white hair and a well-tailored suit appeared, spoke with them sharply, and then approached me. ¡°Your Majesty, forgive our disrespect and insult to your personage. It seems as though there was some sort of error in our system regarding your arrival at this establishment. We¡¯ve made the necessary adjustments and we¡¯re all ready to escort you to the Eastern Penthouse Suite, with our compliments.¡± There¡¯s no way I could afford that in ten lifetimes. I was here on Steve¡¯s dime, and while he was a son of a rich man, even his family couldn¡¯t afford a penthouse suite. ¡°I, uhhh...¡± I froze for a moment. ¡°With our compliments¡± rang a note with me, though. Oh God, was I gonna do it? Fuck it, let¡¯s see if I can get a night in the Penthouse Suite comp¡¯d to me. ¡°By your leave, then.¡± I made an imperial gesture, expecting everyone to laugh and then you know, head back to my room. But instead, the owner of the hotel called six bellboys to move my meager possessions from my current room and an additional ten to escort me to the penthouse suite. ***** So first off, let me say this: The penthouse suite was fucking huge. Fucking huge. I felt lost in the massive room. It looked like the place was made to entertain tons of people. Like hosting parties, or something. The bed was so large it could sleep twenty, I think. I put the sword down on the sofa and and, testing the limits of ¡°our compliments¡±, rang down for room service. The meal was delivered by a nervously sweating man in cook¡¯s whites. He explained each dish respectfully. I couldn¡¯t remember the names, most of them went in one ear and out the other. I nodded at his explanations, and he bowed as he left. The food was rich and luxurious and tasted divine. While I ate, I went through what was happening in my head. I picked up a sword from the tourist trap outside, at which point everyone started treating me as if I were royalty- the King of the Moon, in fact. At first I thought it was all fun and games, but they wouldn¡¯t just comp a suite- the penthouse suite- to some rando with a sword, right? Roll out free room service that was attended by a man introduced as the head chef? That was... a bit over the top, even for acting. Fuck it. You know what? Let¡¯s see how far I can take this. I remembered to pocket my keycard this time, and opened the door- one of the bellhops was there, waiting for me. ¡°Was there something that Your Majesty required?¡± He asked, his voice squeaking a little. ¡°No, no. I was thinking of heading to the Royale.¡± He nodded jerkily. ¡°Understood, sir.¡± He muttered into his handset and then he escorted me to the lobby, at which point I left the hotel and was met with one of those electronic carts to whisk me to the casino. Once I arrived at the casino, I was immediately escorted into the casino, where another gentrified man in an immaculate suit greeted me with a pile of ¡°complimentary¡± chips, each worth more money than I made in a year. I was escorted through the casino, where I watched people playing poker, shooting craps, yanking the arms of slot machines, and betting on races. They had horses- actual horses- up here. How did they manage that? I was offered a drink, so I accepted and received a beer in a frosted mug. I tried my hand at craps, and the dealer immediately just... let me win. Everyone cheered on each terrible throw like I was the greatest thing since sliced bread. ¡°Good show, Your Majesty.¡± I was congratulated, and everyone clapped. How embarrassing was that? After a while I just... I gave up, turned in my winnings and cashed out at the cage. I had no idea what I should do with the money I¡¯d... won, but the owner simply provided me a handful of discrete envelopes to carry the money in with a brilliant smile. I now had enough money to buy at least four houses in my old neighborhood. All of this... for a sword? Oh boy. What... what was it that I was supposed to do? I was going to head back to the hotel, but the owner of the casino stopped me. ¡°Your majesty, if I may be so bold... for our... more... discriminating clients, we offer certain... services.¡± He gestured to a number of cocktail waitresses, who lined up expectantly. Wait, what? Was I expected to... I shook my head. ¡°That¡¯s...¡± I started, and then stopped. What would be a good way to turn him down? ¡°That will not be necessary.¡± I replied, and he bowed his head, hands folded on his cane. ¡°As Your Majesty decides.¡± The owner of the casino agreed. I was whisked to a restaurant where I was led past the table of a gaping Steve and up to the second floor, I was waited on by no less than twenty staff members, and then whisked back to the Penthouse Suite. It was going to be a very long and very interesting month. The glass shattered, the music stopped, and time itself seemed to be holding its breath ¡°The glass shattered, the music stopped, and time itself seemed to be holding its breath.¡± When I went to the firing range for the first time, someone was firing off a ridiculously large caliber handgun, maybe a .50 cal. Even though the man was several lanes away, I could feel the soundless but tangible impact from the booming thunder of his gun in my chest. That¡¯s what it felt like. Something intangible but tangible, an impact with no sound, a sudden pressure punching at my innards, a heartbeat that felt like a silent thunderclap in my chest, and then I was falling, inches from my car door, falling, falling, endlessly falling through endless darkness. What came next was a baffling dream where I found myself hurtling, cartwheeling through the inscrutable realms and barriers that divided the universes. Pinwheels of stars whirled across my vision; alien clouds of strange gases seared my lungs. I reached, grabbed, flailed for anything, desperate to gain some sort of anchor that I could hold onto. There was never a thought that I could find myself lost amongst the arcana of the universe, stranded in amongst mystifying comets, weird suns, and the empty, yawning gulfs of endless, silent dark between them. I reached, I clutched, I screamed, my hands took hold of something, and at that moment I skidded across the ebonite floor of the universe. The spell reversed, and I was once again cast through the beyond, yanked backwards until I could feel myself stretching impossibly long, but my hands curled tight in triumph, for in my perplexing journey, I¡¯d found something and was determined to bring it back with me. I skidded backwards through reality, choked on the atmospheres of alien gas giants, rebounded against stray chunks of ice, ancient when the bones of the world were new, tumbled through the ragged holes I¡¯d torn in the fabrics of reality, the barriers between universes, the tissues of realms beyond comprehension. All went dark. ***** I opened my eyes; I was laying on something soft and thick. I ached everywhere, my bones and joints hurt, my muscles felt packed with sand. I wasn¡¯t sure, but I think even my hair hurt. I was laying on some sort of carpet. A few feet from my face was an ornately carved baroque coffee table, its legs sinuous and carved with reliefs of leaves and fruit, with what looked to be golden inlays. I was drooling. I slowly pushed myself to a sitting position, and immediately regretted every decision I¡¯d ever made since I¡¯d been born. My head lurched and thudded, laboriously pounding with my heartbeat. Even my vision pulsed. I managed to roll over and rest my back on some plush sofa that was equally ornate and richly furnished, and as the room swam into view I realized that I was in some room that was richly- no- ostentatiously appointed. The walls were paneled wood with the grains interlocking to form zigzagging patterns. Massive tapestries hung here and there, each one a fantastic work of art showing exaggerated heroes fighting villainous monsters. Everything looked expensive. I wiped my mouth and chin and tried to make sense of things. I¡¯d just gotten off of my shift at work. I was reaching for the door handle of my car to drive home. Then... what? Waking up here. It felt like there was something else, some element I couldn¡¯t quite remember, something more, but it slipped through my mind¡¯s fingers no matter how hard I tried to remember. A door that was just as carved and gilded and inlaid as the rest of the things in the room opened, and a man in thick robes stepped into the room. He reminded me of my boss, in a way. Stern-faced with a salt-and pepper beard and iron-gray hair, a well-trained body starting to go soft about the edges with age. He babbled something incomprehensible at me, and I shook my head. He tried again, but I had no idea what it was he was trying to communicate. Obvious exasperation showed on his face; he reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a heavy gold ring. He put it on, took it off, and then placed it in front of me, and gestured at me. I picked up the heavy ring and slipped it on my finger. There was a weird buzzing sensation at the back of my head that felt disgusting, but I jolted a little when he babbled at me, and then a hairsbreadth later I heard his voice, but translated, in my head. ¡°You should be able to understand me now.¡± That feeling at the back of my head was starting to make me feel ill. ¡°Yeah.¡± I replied, struggling to hold back the urge to vomit. ¡°What kingdom do you come from?¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Huh? ¡°Kingdom?¡± I replied lamely. ¡°I have to apologize; we were testing a newly crafted magical spell and it seems you were teleported here.¡± Huh? Spell? Teleported? ¡°What is this?¡± I asked, baffled. ¡°This doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡± Something lurched in my chest, then. That same feeling of soundless impact, air squeezing from my lungs, dull pressure behind my eyes. I reflexively took a deep breath, and for a moment my mind went through a curious sensation, as if someone had scooped my brain out of my skull and for the briefest of moments dipped it in cold, alien jelly. I wanted to throw up, but the fear came first, a wholly unreasonable fear with no tangible grasp on reality. ¡°What is this place? Where is this place?¡± I demanded. ¡°You¡¯re in the Alsach kingdom.¡± He replied, as if that made any sense. ¡°You¡¯re not telling me enough.¡± I replied, and tried to get to my feet. Something cold, something strange, something darkly malignant was near, and it was coming closer. I could somehow feel it. He adopted a patronizing, patient expression. ¡°Many things in the world can be summoned or teleported from place to place, with the exception of humans. People. We¡¯ve been trying to overcome that barrier.¡± He paused. ¡°We attempted to summon a person from the Temple of Tear to here, but he vanished and instead... you arrived.¡± He paused as he folded his arms. ¡°As soon as you tell me where you¡¯re from, I¡¯ll have you sent back home, and the Alsach kingdom will provide suitable recompense for your trouble.¡± So I told him where I was from. He didn¡¯t get it; didn¡¯t recognize the city. I told him my country. Everyone knows the United States. He gave me a baffled look. I told him the name of the world I was from: Earth. I described what it was like, how it fit in the solar system. He stumbled backwards and caught himself on the back of a chair. ¡°It seems... It seems that we¡¯ve made a serious mistake.¡± He muttered, alarmed. He produced a handkerchief and mopped his sweaty brow. ¡°I thought we¡¯d pulled you from some kingdom, but it might just be that we pulled you from another world entirely.¡± He gasped, and then on unsteady legs he stumbled to a window and pulled open the curtains. It seemed pretty obvious that he wanted to show me what lay beyond the window frame, so I struggled to my feet. Standing was an exercise. Walking a herculean feat. I dragged myself to the window and peeked out. There was a city that stretched out for miles, cobbled streets, fountains, strange architecture. What caught my eye however was a cluster of three mons in the sky. Not one, but three. Son of a bitch. ¡°Jesus fucking Christ.¡± I complained, and my legs gave out on me. I sagged to the floor, and tried to pull myself back up using the window as leverage, but my arms were rubbery things that refused to behave like arms. ¡°This is definitely not my world.¡± I complained as the man (who still hadn¡¯t given me his name) helped me up. He nodded. ¡°This is a ... mistake on an unprecedented scale.¡± He agreed. I looked out the window again and saw a strange black ribbon snaking along the streets sinuously. ¡°The fuck is that?¡± I wondered, and the man gave me a baffled look, so I braced myself against the window and pointed. His face flushed with alarm, his eyes widened. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen the like-¡± He began, but the door burst open. ¡°Magister Aleister!¡± A young man shouted, panicked. ¡°Something escaped from the Sage Tower! It¡¯s killing everything!¡± ¡°Stay here, sir.¡± Aleister commanded to me, and then immediately turned and strode out of the room. The door closed behind him with a click. Well, shit. Using the furniture as things to prop myself against, I stumbled across the room to the point where I could flop down into the richly appointed sofa and sat there, gasping with effort. I felt drained and husked out. Just walking from the window to the sofa had worn me out to the point where I wanted to sleep. I laid down on the cushions and resolved to at least get my breathing under control. Maybe this was a terrible dream. Sleep sounded like a great idea. I closed my eyes. ***** When I woke up, I immediately knew that I wasn¡¯t alone. There was something cold, something alien, something that boiled with strange thoughts and indifferent malevolence in the same room as I. I hadn¡¯t even opened my eyes and I was already terrified, icy sheets of sweat sliding and pooling on my body. Whatever this thing was, it wasn¡¯t human, had never been human, and its dispassionate indiscriminate violence was something akin to a person indifferently brushing away an ant from his arm. I opened my eyes. The room was dark, but whatever it was was darker still, seemingly draining the light from the room. ¡°You brought me here.¡± Its voice was an unholy chorus of un-sound, something that rasped and grated and shredded even as it was silky, husky, and inviting. ¡°I- what?¡± I managed to gasp out, struggling to breathe even as the temperature in the room cooled. ¡°This place is not like my place.¡± It observed. ¡°It¡¯s not like mine, either.¡± I replied, and shakily explained what I¡¯d learned. ¡°To think you ridiculous hairless apes had learned of things beyond your ken...¡± it murmured. Suddenly the amorphous darkness drew in on itself and assumed a human shape- arguably human, as if it wasn''t sure what a human was actually supposed to look like. ¡°Wh-wh-what happens now?¡± I managed to choke out, hot bands of terror clamping down on my lungs. The thing toyed with a snow globe that tinkled with music I hadn¡¯t heard before. ¡°You¡¯ve tread on things that should not have been.¡± it replied, eyes sliding on its face like candle wax. ¡°Actions have consequences.¡± It¡¯s voice was thick and clotted now, like bubbling tar. It indifferently crushed the snow globe in one hand. The glass shattered, the music stopped, and time itself seemed to be holding its breath. ¡°Icarus.¡± I stammered, and the creature drew back. ¡°What?¡± it asked, confused. I racked my brain for what I remembered in High School and I told the thing the story of Icarus, who flew with wings of wax, flew too high and died. It chuckled, a laugh filled with delight, menace, and unspeakable hunger, a hunger that had been cultivated for billions of years in the great lightless spaces that lurked between the stars, the places where it was inescapably empty, lonely, and oh so cold. ¡°Tell me another story.¡± It decided, and grinned, displaying too many teeth in a mouth that stretched much too wide. I swallowed hard. Perfect Ladder/ Lost Children Hands busy, mind adrift in the sub-aether of less-than-conscious thought, knife moving, hand curling and pushing like a well-timed machined clock. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s something that other people do. It¡¯s just something I do. Something I¡¯ve always done. There¡¯s a zone of ...perhaps white noise, a susurration of endless radio static, or perhaps it¡¯s a complete void; my mind slips into that space of comfortable nothingness while my body moves of its own accord. In a way I am aware beyond awareness, in another I am oblivious. I can¡¯t explain it for the same reason you can¡¯t explain why you¡¯re left or right-handed. It just is. In a way I was aware of her being there; in a way I was oblivious. My mind was elsewhere. In the zone, some of my friends from yesteryear might have said. Zoned out. My hands moved, the knife flashed. The chicken breast under my right hand was sliced into centimeter-wide strips as my right hand shifted the meat towards my knuckles, the blade in my left hand sliced the meat without nicking them. In this restaurant, as in everything else, I was an oddity. Every other ¡°cook¡± simply took the bag of pre-sliced, pre-flavored chicken, dumped it onto a plate, heated it up, and served it. For me it was something more. I had to cut my own meat, season it, cook it, prepare it with my own two hands. I couldn¡¯t be satisfied otherwise. If the customer complained, then it would legitimately be my fault and contrary-wise, if the food I prepared brought approval, well, that was nice, too. I took a peek at who had come into the sanctity of my kitchen, and as with all the others, I had to do a triple-take. You know what I¡¯m talking about: The Lost Children, the Perfect Ladders. The first take, and you¡¯re standing next to some impossibly gorgeous specimen of humanity. The second take, and the realization that you¡¯re really standing next to an impossible beauty. There¡¯s just no other way to describe it. If the essence of human physical beauty could be distilled and coalesced, that would be it. It¡¯s a thing of beauty that artists and sculptures have been trying to capture for millenia, the perfect symmetry, the correct eye-width, the elegant arch of an eyebrow, the curve of a collarbone, somehow immaculately, impossibly in front of you, and it¡¯s so foreign, so impossible, so alien that despite that unrelenting picturesque perfection, it is so far removed from humanity it¡¯s freakish, strange, alien, grotesque. The third take, and you¡¯re shoring up your mental defenses, you¡¯re preparing to speak to them. How do you do that? They¡¯re too strange. Too human to be human. Too perfect. You look into their eyes, and they look right back at you, but beyond the eye, are you staring into the nietzschean abyss that stares back? Hand curling on the knife handle instinctively; first the hand, elbow to the face to send her backwards, let the handle drop and revolve to put the blade down, knife between the third and fourth ribs into the heart- Can I help you with something? Who are you? What¡¯re you doing in my kitchen? Fuck you doing here? Think you can come in here just like that? Eyes. God, her eyes. Green. Green eyes. Black hair, to the waist. Green turtleneck to match her eyes, bluejeans. Figure to die for. To kill for. Tall. almost too tall. Perfectly tall. Too much to think, all at once. ¡°What?¡± escaped my lips before I could put the question to words. There was an abyss behind those eyes, no doubt. Oh, everyone ¡®liked¡¯ the Perfect Ladders, but nobody made them anymore. Too alien, too strange. Carnival funhouse mirrors, seeing yourself reflected back at you, but warped, twisted, ugly, freakish. They were perfection made flesh, and you, well... you were just ordinary. You were obsolete. So the project was quietly, discreetly abandoned. Look upon my works ye Mighty and despair. No more Perfect Ladders, now just the Lost Children. The perfection of gene science. Remove that hereditary trait for heart failure. Keep the eyes, that¡¯s a family trait. Ah, I see you¡¯re a carrier for the gene-set that¡¯s tied to intelligence. Ah, yes. There we go, that¡¯s what your child will look like. Perfect. Her mouth moved. The abyss behind her impossibly gorgeous eyes heaved and shifted. Somewhere, beneath the placid surface of the impossibly deep lake, a monster shifted, turned over in its slumber. ¡°Mister Lannister sent me to you.¡± She replied. Her voice, like her beauty, was perfect. You loved and hated that voice; you wanted to smash every stradivarius and empty a shotgun into every Stienway fucking piano the world has ever known. Nails, screeching across a chalkboard would almost sound sweet. If her voice was somehow capable of being distilled into a liquid, you wanted to slather yourself in it, rub it into your skin, violate it with your essence. Oh god, not today. Get it together. ¡°W-¡± I hadn¡¯t even gotten the first syllable out before I got it. I knew it. I knew it all along. It¡¯s happened so many times before, I should be used to it. The little knife. Betrayal. I was getting the boot. This... thing, with perfect body and perfect voice and strange, unknowable mind had been hired to replace me. Boss Danny and I had gotten along. Allowed me my little concessions. I could cook what they served here, my way, during my shift. All the other cooks on other shifts did what they liked, what they were used to. Drop the bag of food into the cooking vat or the microwave, ding-done-order up. After all, you didn¡¯t need a genius to cook food. You just needed a well-trained ape, or at least a pseudo-AI with a functional operating set. Genius. That word used to mean something, before the Lost Children. They were geniuses, too. Gene-cultivated to be perfect from birth, machine-taught to perfectly recall, analyze, and adapt; utterly useless in actual culture. We had made them too well. Our society wasn¡¯t ready for the Perfect Ladders, but we made them anyway, and we paid the price. She stood there, perfect body, perfect voice, perfect posture. Her arms were limp, hands loose and dangling. Machine learning could only take you so far. Things like body language, changing the tone or modulation of your voice to reflect emotion, all the subtle hints and cues that we learn as we grow up, the gestures, the postures, the expressions, the culture, the soul of society was absent from them. In the scant second of contemplation and horror, my hands had completed their task; left hand sliding the knife under the sliced chicken, right to on top to steady the load, open the vat, slide it off into the marinade. There was nothing left but the knife. ¡°He sent you?¡± I heard myself ask. Brain was already shutting down, going into overdrive. Wipe the counters. Sterilize the knives. Put the knives on the rack. Take off the apron. Collect the last check from Boss Danny. Trudge out into the street and get in the car. Right hand twist the key in the ignition. Go home to the empty apartment. Mark time in a steadily aging body while the world moved on without me. Wait for my appointed time to die. ¡°He said he wanted to see you.¡± She paused. ¡°When you had the chance.¡± Pause. Silence. It seemed like, for a moment, there was something else she wanted to say, but whatever abyss-brain lurked behind those too-pretty eyes had decided the effort expended wasn¡¯t worth the reward gained. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Orders- no orders. No afternoon rush, not today. The rush would be small, manageable. It happened with regular familiarity. Today wasn¡¯t special insofar as much as it was just another day, but yet the uniqueness of the day was punctuated by the fact that on this day there was never a mad rush of people scrambling for food and drink. Ordinary. Do I take the apron off? Sanitary. Stand clean in front of the boss. Do I wear the apron so I can dramatically throw it in his face when he tells me that he can no longer afford to pay me, that this perfect thing, a mockery of human perfection made flesh could mechanically prepare and fix meals for customers? What use was I? I wasn¡¯t a Perfect Ladder. I came before the Lost Generation. Certifiable genius, rendered increasingly obsolete as automation and the perfection of the human genome rendered actual genius to back-shelf antiquities. How many degrees, in how many fields? How many industry-specific accreditations rendered meaningless through computational AI, predictive algorithms, the advancement of ... well, everything? The entirety of my life was the inevitability of betrayal. Each job, each career ended meaninglessly, against the advancement of the future. Who needed a genius when a machine could do the work of a genius tirelessly? Who needed a genius when you could have them tailor-made from birth? An aging man, in his middle ages with doctorates and degrees and accreditations working as a short-order cook in a hookah bar at the ass-end of nowhere for a pittance of what he was supposed to be worth. Let it be done then, and swiftly. Resignation. Defeat. Again and again, the same song and dance. You¡¯d think I¡¯d be used to it, now. What hurts less each time hurts even more the next time. Paradoxical, but true. While my brain churned through such things I¡¯d already sterilized the knives, and instead of returning them to the magnetized strip over the counters, I had packed them away. They were mine; if I was to be a fucking cook I was going to have the best instruments of the trade. Useless fripperies, now. I¡¯d stripped off my gloves for the last time and hung up my apron, and with a heavy heart, I headed towards the back, where Boss Danny Lannister tallied sales, managed orders, and kept his little shop open. How long before he was replaced with automation? She was following me. The conscious awareness of it crawled along my spine and froze the hairs on the back of my neck. My stomach churned. Of course I would be terrified. Why wouldn¡¯t I be? Everyone felt uneasy around the Perfect Ladders, to have one following you, face expressionless, walking without emotion or intent, simple locomotion, that unknowable mind behind those too-lovely eyes churning away alien thoughts right behind you would be enough to frighten the most seasoned of mercenaries. I paused, hand on the latch. He didn¡¯t stand on ceremony; I wouldn¡¯t knock and he wouldn¡¯t expect me to. She would, though. Somewhere in that brain the basic mannerisms and expected behaviors would be etched; knock and await permission before entering. I turned and looked her in the eye. Bold move for someone so defeated. But if I was to go to the headsman, I would do what I did best, which coincidentally was everything. ¡°Do you have to come in with me?¡± I asked, hoping my voice sounded casual. I would go to the headsman with dignity if I could, and hearing that I¡¯d been given the axe- even from some tobacco-chewing high school dropout like Boss Danny- I¡¯d hope to avoid witnesses. Just Danny and I. She stopped; a puppet with her wires cut. No expression. Neutral. Strange to see blankness in a face with such beauty. Strange to see such lifelessness in such a body. Did they feel anything? She could have been a limp and yet upright corpse. No poise. ¡°I can wait.¡± She replied in that beautiful voice, dead of emotion. ¡°Be right back.¡± I replied, again hoping that I was disguising the churning in my gut. Stepping into Danny¡¯s office was an experience. Piles of paper stacked haphazardly. Doodads and incomprehensible things scattered seemingly at random. A partially disassembled hookah. ¡°You wanted to see me, boss?¡± I asked, forcing myself to speak past the lump in my throat. Knives were in the case on the counter. Leave the office, retrieve the knives- they were a custom set, and expensive- and go out into the night through the back door. Into the car. Go home. ¡°You saw her, right?¡± Danny asked, and then paused. ¡°God man, wipe that look off your face. You¡¯re not getting canned.¡± Was I really so transparent? Apparently so. He gestured at the other chair in his office, and appeared to realize it was stacked with papers, and turned his gesture into an indifferent flap. ¡°You prolly don¡¯t know, but you¡¯re actually pretty popular.¡± He offered. ¡°Frankly, we used ta not get a lunch rush until you showed up, so profits are up. Whatever you¡¯re doing, you¡¯re doing good work.¡± He spread his hands expansively. ¡°You¡¯re still laying golden eggs.¡± I jerked my thumb at the door and the thing waiting behind it. ¡°Her?¡± He paused, and folded his hands. ¡°How long we known each other? A year? Two?¡± He asked quietly, meditatively tapping his thumbs together. ¡°¡®Bout that, I reckon.¡± I replied simply. ¡°We don¡¯t go way back, but we go back a ways.¡± He chuckled at that, but lifelessly. ¡°I¡¯m married.¡± He began somberly. ¡°Ah, fuck it. I hate this shit.¡± He waved his hand. ¡°I¡¯m the black sheep. They humored me. Gave me money enough to open the shop. Make it work, and they forget about me. My wife thinks it¡¯s a joke.¡± He shuddered. ¡°The looks she gives me...¡± I gave him a baffled look while shifting my feet for a better posture. He rolled his eyes. ¡°I married rich. I was the street tough that loved a woman with money. To keep me out of the way and out of sight, they gave me this shop and told me to kindly fuck off.¡± He looked at his hands and let out a sigh and spread them out on the desk. ¡°I was told yesterday to hire her.¡± He grimaced. ¡°Creepy, isn¡¯t she? How the fuck could I hire her? She¡¯d scare away the customers.¡± ¡°So I¡¯m training my replacement.¡± I replied in a dead voice. The inevitability of betrayal. The inevitability of repetition. ¡°Fuck no!¡± He replied, eyes wide with shock. He yanked a folder out of the pile on his desk and held it out. ¡°Look at the numbers, slick. Look at them.¡± I obliged him. The numbers were trending upward. He was gradually making more money each cycle than he was the previous. ¡°They set me up to fail, and then you come along. I said so, didn¡¯t I? We didn¡¯t have a lunch rush before. Now we do. Because of you. You¡¯re making us money. That don¡¯t sit right with those tightwad assholes of in-laws I got saddled with. Hell, even my wife looks at me like that, sometimes.¡± ¡°Angel¡¯s my cousin. By marriage. Not like my family could afford a Designed Ladder.¡± He picked up a cup and spat brown juice into it indifferently. ¡°You¡¯re gonna train her, yeah. I don¡¯t trust her out with the customers. Scare ¡®em off. Figure you could teach her some of the simple shit. I don¡¯t know what fuckall you do in that kitchen and I don¡¯t care, because it¡¯s making me money. Maybe you can teach her to do some of that shit- fuck, even just push a mop around, I don¡¯t fucking care- but she¡¯s working here, and you¡¯re gonna be over her. That¡¯s gotta be a thing, right? You gotta cook and an under-cook? Apprentice? Some shit like that?¡± The words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them. ¡°You¡¯re shitting me.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Nope. You got yourself promoted. Shoulda done it earlier, anyway. You¡¯ve got more between your ears than I¡¯ve got.¡± He stood up, and paced a little. ¡°Teach her what you think she can learn. They think they¡¯re foisting her off on us- on me- so that my business tanks. That ain¡¯t gonna happen. Fuck ¡®em if they can¡¯t take a joke. You¡¯re gonna teach her.¡± ¡°Fuck.¡± Again, the word dropped from my mouth before I thought. He snorted and scratched his patchy beard. Two hundred years in the past with a gun on his hip he¡¯d be a gunfighter with spurs, a leather hat and grit. He looked like I felt: out of place, out of time, lost in a world that was rapidly closing the doors on obsolescence. ¡°We make do with what we got.¡± He muttered, and faced me. ¡°You teach her, slick. Teach her to cook. Who knows, maybe we¡¯ll be able to get a personality out of her- something that won¡¯t make her look so...¡± He paused, picked up his cup and spat more brown juice into it. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ creepy.¡± He stared at his cup and looked at me. ¡°Shit. That was my coffee. Get the fuck out of here and go teach her some shit.¡± He gestured, and with that I was summarily dismissed. Eirawen and the Tomb of Nolan 1 If you were to charter a ship from the Anglish capital city of Darnell and turn your sails roughly west-southwest across the ocean, you would need to make port in either Yamato or Toledo to rest and resupply. The Yamato would not give you a welcome, for foreigners are not allowed to to set one foot on their sacred soil. Resting there would certainly guarantee an early death. The Toledoans are great fans of foreign trade and, as long as you weren¡¯t shy of losing a few crewmembers to mysterious circumstances, the Toledoans would likely welcome you, offer you food and shelter and a chance to relax. Once resupplied, you would need to once again point your ship west-southwest and sail until your food was gone and your water barrels ran dry, sail until the teeth loosened in your sockets, sail until delirium made you spot the shores of a great smoking plateau in the ocean, the last remnants of a dead and decaying empire, a land that was a thousand years dead and gone when the Anglish Empire was young. If you were foolish enough to weigh anchor in those dread waters and lucky enough to survive the rest and resupply on those shadowy shores, lucky enough to patch your leaky hulls the best you could, cry to the heavens at how long you had spent at sea, and set sail once more, once more pointing the prow of your ship west-southwest- When the shattered hull of your boat beached itself and pitched your decaying corpse into the sea, there was a chance your body might wash ashore on a small land that was, from shore to shore, almost entirely comprised of desert. That¡¯s where your tale would end, though nobody would be alive to tell it. ***** Carlo flew backwards through the dojo, feet trailing behind him. It was surreal; he could feel the texture of the mats on his heels as he flew from the impact. He hit the floor, muscle memory and reflexes forcing him to react, making him tuck and dip his shoulder in the same way he¡¯d done thousands of times. He rolled over and over and came up into a ready stance, eyeing his sparring opponent warily. After a moment, he relaxed his guard and let out a long sigh and raised his hands. ¡°Enough, enough, I surrender.¡± He waved his hands a little, palms open and shaking his head. ¡°You¡¯re too much. I can¡¯t keep up with you anymore.¡± He grimaced and brushed his sweat-sticky hair away from his face and regarded his opponent. She was taller than him, with regal looks, disheveled sparring clothes, and a long fall of completely white hair; his adopted daughter, Eirawen. ¡°It used to be that I was both stronger and faster than you.¡± He complained a little, moving to a small shelf and grabbing a pair of towels, tossing one to her. ¡°But you caught up to me.¡± She gave him a very tiny smile and mopped her face though it was free of sweat. ¡°Then you caught up to me.¡± He repeated. ¡°Your reactions are faster than mine, so the only thing I could do was decide which of your moves I could accept until I could counter with my own- but I can¡¯t even do that anymore, since your strength is leagues above my own, now.¡± He sighed. ¡°I have nothing more to teach you. You¡¯ve exceeded me in every way.¡± After a moment he smiled at her warmly. ¡°Shall we go get some cake?¡± He gestured to the door leading upstairs from the hidden sparring room. She nodded. ¡°Your father would be proud of you, you know. As proud of you as your mother is.¡± He said over his shoulder as they went up the stairs. ¡°My mother could not be proud of me.¡± She responded coolly. ¡°And my father is dead.¡± Since Carlo was leading the way, Eirawen couldn¡¯t see the frustrated, bitter way Carlo¡¯s face twisted at her dispassionate remark. Eirawen was like that, though. Everything she said and did was though all of her emotions had been dialed down and muted. ¡°You say this because she gave you into my care?¡± He asked, moving from the hidden dojo into the building proper, which was a bakery. She nodded her assent, but because his back was to her, he didn¡¯t see it. ¡°We have had this conversation before, Eirawen. It¡¯s politics. She has to keep her feelings as a mother and her responsibilities as a queen separate.¡± He knelt in front of a display case and pulled out a large cake, mounded high with fruit toppings. He pulled out a knife and cut a delicate slice for each of them. ¡°The peace we have now is thanks to her. She can¡¯t afford to jeopardize it- not for you, or for anyone.¡± He explained for what seemed to be the thousandth time. ¡°As her brother learned to his undoing.¡± ¡°You said my uncle was a warmonger.¡± She stated flatly. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. He nodded. ¡°So he was. But our King wanted peace as much as she did, and so they had to make ... some very tough choices. We all have to make tough choices.¡± ¡°And my father?¡± She pressed. ¡°My real father?¡± There was an intensity to her voice whenever her real father was mentioned, something that was absent in anything else she¡¯d said. Some things were able to touch her heart and move her in ways that other things didn¡¯t. ¡°He made the hardest choice of all.¡± He replied with a snort, reminiscing. ¡°He made it so matter-of-factly, I doubt he believed it was a choice at all. He simply decided, and that was it.¡± He exclaimed, chuckling. ¡°He was nothing if not straightforward.¡± He gestured for her to sit at one of the tables. As she moved, he was forcibly reminded of her father. ¡°You have been very evasive with me before.¡± She said just as flatly as she had before; though through long years of living with the largely dispassionate girl had revealed her subtle emotional states. She was reproachful and perhaps frustrated. He eyed her critically. ¡°About what?¡± He asked evasively, but he knew already. ¡°My father.¡± ¡°I think I''ve been very open about who and what he was, Eirawen.¡± He waved his hand dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s hard to dissemble. You resemble him well.¡± He snorted. ¡°You resemble the both of them. You have your mother¡¯s elvish beauty and your father¡¯s strength.¡± His eyebrows twitched and he smiled. ¡°You have his hair and eyes, too.¡± His smile twisted into something predatory. ¡°I wonder how he would have reacted if he learned of you.¡± he chuckled again, in a teasing way. ¡°You have not told me anything.¡± She repeated. ¡°You tell me things I can learn by going outside.¡± She added, an obvious note of anger in her voice. ¡°But you haven¡¯t told me anything about what he was like.¡± ¡°What he was like.¡± Carlo mused, rubbing his forehead. He knew what she wanted, but he didn¡¯t want to tell her. There was so much about her father that he didn¡¯t want to say, because it was hard for him to face it himself. ¡°It¡¯s not something I can speak of lightly, Eirawen. He changed this land so dramatically, so ... so brutally, it can¡¯t be spoken of so casually. I wanted to wait until you were old enough-¡± he tried, but she immediately frowned. ¡°I have been old enough for some time.¡± She seethed. Oh, she¡¯s mad now, is she? he thought to himself. ¡°I-¡± He started, and then sighed. ¡°Eat your cake.¡± She took a small bite, but her eyes were fixed on him, icy blue and unmoving. It was like the first time he¡¯d met Nolan. Eyes straightforward and unflinching, unwavering. Just as he was the first to look away from Nolan¡¯s gaze, he was the one to look away from Eirawen¡¯s. ¡°We¡¯re afraid, Eirawen.¡± He finally admitted in a low voice. Eirawen was surprised at the frustrated admission from Carlo, the man who, officially at least, was her father. ¡°... tell me.¡± She finally managed. ¡°In the center of our city is the site of the First Well.¡± He replied, tossing out something that the meanest child should know. ¡°It¡¯s the only one that¡¯s flourished as it has. You¡¯ve seen it: It¡¯s a lake. All of our water comes from it. The forests that surround it give us our food. Both nations depend on it for survival.¡± He explained as if she didn¡¯t know it already. She watched him as he struggled to explain. ¡°We need it.¡± he stressed. ¡°But what was the first thing Nolan- your father- did to stop the conflict between us?¡± Eirawen shook her head. ¡°He tried to destroy it.¡± Carlo replied, and gave Eirawen a terrified, bewildered look. ¡°Nobody- nobody on either side would dare do something like that!¡± he protested. He threw himself back in his chair and tossed his fork to the table with a clatter. ¡°He didn¡¯t care. He didn¡¯t care what such a thing meant to anyone. He was a monster, Eirawen. He...¡± He trailed off with a sigh. ¡°He was... He had principles. He had a sense of honor. Dignity. He worshipped his Goddess with unwavering fervor. Some people- myself included- called him a zealot, and he was. Everything happened as a result of his Goddess. The assault on the palace was a test for his courage. His victories were a testament to the Goddess. The morning was a gift from his Goddess. His meals were a boon from Her.¡± He picked up his fork and turned it one way, then the other. ¡°Even his assault on the First Well was a test.¡± He managed, and then finally took a bite of his cake. ¡°Your mother the Queen brought that monster to this city. Oh, he saved us, yes.¡± He barked a jagged laugh, ¡°but he murdered us to do it. If that¡¯s salvation, then...¡± He set his fork down again. ¡°Your mother gave you to me because if you were seen with her, it might mean... it might mean something like the second coming of Nolan. You would have been strangled in your crib.¡± ¡°It took years to rebuild what was lost. No one speaks of what happened willingly; not because we are ashamed, but because we are all afraid. Our city has stood for six thousand years, daughter. Has withstood wars both civil and foreign, has withstood plague and army and demon. The thing that nearly eradicated us wasn¡¯t an army or a plague or a demon from the Abyss, or even our wrathful Holy Ancestors come back from the grave to punish us for everything we¡¯ve lost, everything we¡¯ve forgotten. No. It was one man that brought us all to our knees.¡± He looked up at her; she could see the naked fear on his face. ¡°The worst part of it is that he might wake up and start his engine of frozen death all over again.¡± Her mouth dropped open at this statement. Everything that had been revealed to her throughout her whole life was that Nolan, the strange giant knight from beyond the ocean, was dead. Now there was this sudden revelation- ¡°He¡¯s not dead?!¡± She blurted, launching herself to her feet. Eirawen and the Tomb of Nolan 2 ¡°I-¡± He started, and then sighed. ¡°Eat your cake.¡± She took an obligatory bite. ¡°Your father, as far as we can tell, isn¡¯t really dead.¡± he admitted. ¡°You never said this before. Where is he?¡± She demanded, voice cold. ¡°Hold on, hold on, hold on. There¡¯s more to this than you think.¡± He replied testily. ¡°By the ancestors, this is why I didn¡¯t tell you. Too impatient by half.¡± He grumbled. ¡°I thought I taught you patience, discipline.¡± He admonished. He grit his teeth, and admitted what he didn¡¯t want to admit. ¡°Your father called down a great blizzard, a storm of ice and snow the likes of which this island has likely ever seen... and will probably never see again. The damage to our city was catastrophic... catastrophic enough to get everyone to stop fighting and work to unite our peoples.¡± He stopped for a moment and tapped his finger on the table, and pointed at her cake. She obediently took another small bite. Part of Carlo was still stuck in the past, as frozen as that night had been, still shocked and terrified as that blizzard had blasted across the city, hurling chunks of ice and snow, freezing the air, coating everything in a slick rime of ice. Even above the howling gales, the dull cracks of ice on stone, the rumble of the clouds overhead, the roar of Nolan, the strange proselytizing warrior from a land Carlo had never heard of, could be heard, shouting his zealous prayers to his Goddess. That night of frigid madness was carved into his soul. ¡°He entombed himself in a block of ice bigger than our house. That ice has never melted, and it can¡¯t be chipped, broken, or be moved through any means, mechanical, magical, or otherwise.¡± He continued. He sat up in his chair. ¡°One of the things he did before uniting our peoples was establish a church to Eisa, the Icy Maiden, the Frozen Goddess. One of the priests back then claimed that he wasn¡¯t dead, that he exists in a dreamless sleep, waiting for the time that his Goddess will have need of him again.¡± He pressed his lips together. ¡°It was decided that you should be told that he is dead. He may never wake, or he may wake ten years from now. Or ten thousand.¡± he shrugged. ¡°Either way, it doesn¡¯t matter- he¡¯s just as unreachable as if he were dead.¡± Before Carlo had retired, he¡¯d been an assassin for the previous king. His whole family had been assassins for the kings of this land, stretching back hundreds of years. Publicly, they owned a bakery and sold all manner of sweet treats for anyone that could afford them. However, it was likely that his family¡¯s service to the crown was over. His eldest had no talent for the killing arts, and his youngest had died from a fever. Eirawen herself had no problems whatsoever with learning the martial arts that were his family¡¯s staple, but he suspected that sooner or later Eirawen¡¯s mother the Queen would call her home to her side. It had taken him a great deal of time to accept that his family would no longer be able to serve the crown. Before Nolan¡¯s arrival, everyone on the island venerated their ancestors; something that Carlo still did. Would his ancestors look down on him in disapproval? Would he be rejected for his choice? He and his wife could still have children, it wasn¡¯t impossible to have another child and begin the process all over again of training another assassin. But... the unreasonable and indifferent slaughter Nolan had brought to the island was nothing that his family could stand against. As much as he hated to admit it, Nolan¡¯s presence, even entombed in a block of ice, was enough of a deterrent to keep the serious troublemakers from instigating most plots, and those that persisted in spite of it didn¡¯t require the attention of an assassin. He sighed. Eirawen was a troubled girl, having grown up without a proper mother and father. He¡¯d have to pay the Queen a visit. He eyed the taller woman in front of him. ¡°Eirawen, if you would like, I may be able to arrange a visit- permission to enter the sacred grove, and the freedom to visit your father¡¯s tomb.¡± She nodded. ¡°I would like that.¡± He gave her a ghastly, sweaty smile at that. Nolan had been a catalyst that had brought peace, but it was a peace forged from terror. Even now Carlo held a terrified, frozen dread of what might happen if Nolan strode from his icy tomb to deliver his terrifying, frigid judgement once more. Eirawen, Nolan¡¯s daughter by the Queen, was equally regarded with that same distrust and distance. She resembled him so much it was uncanny. She was a living reminder of Nolan, of that terrifying night when everything came apart, when all the plots and plans and machinations of two nations came apart and unraveled. ***** ¡°Hello, daughter.¡± The voice was low and husky, and called out quietly to her from the night. Eirawen turned. The older woman stepped out of the shadows, hands clasped at her waist and smiling up at her. Eirawen knelt before the elven woman, who frowned irritably. ¡°You are my daughter, Eirawen; you should never bow to me. Get up.¡± She stated, a touch of anger in her voice. Eirawen rose smoothly and towered over the Queen. ¡°You¡¯re as beautiful as he was handsome.¡± she remarked. ¡°Not as tall, though.¡± She appraised. ¡°I wish I could spend more time with you, daughter. I wish I could tell you... so many things. Unfortunately, there is not enough time for either of us.¡± She reached into her belt pouch and produced a key. ¡°Here is the key to the gardens.¡± As Eirawen reached for it, her mother stepped closer. ¡°I... should like to embrace you, daughter.¡± She said quietly. ¡°As a mother to her child.¡± Eirawen hesitated, and her brow furrowed. ¡°I know I haven¡¯t raised you as my own, but you are. Dearest Carlo has written to me often of your progress.¡± She smiled sadly. ¡°I do wish things were different, dearest.¡± She said quietly. ¡°Even so, you would have been raised by a veritable army of nannies and governesses anyway as my responsibilities to our kingdoms keep me busy, but...¡± She sighed again. Eirawen stepped forward and hesitantly hugged the smaller woman. ¡°Do you know what your name means, my daughter?¡± She asked. ¡°It¡¯s not from my kingdom or my husbands¡¯ you know. Nolan taught me some of his language. It means the purest, whitest snow.¡± She ruffled the girl¡¯s hair. ¡°Just like your hair.¡± ***** As Eirawen got closer to the heart of the forest, the heat and humidity increased. It was tropical and swampy here; the ground was muddy and sucked at her feet with unpleasant noises, water beaded and dripped from tree branches, leaves, ferns, and pooled everywhere. There were no paths, it would be impossible to create them. There was a riot of undergrowth as various plants competed for living space. In a land of hot, dry, arid deserts, this one place filled with water and growing things had been a point of conflict between two nations for a thousand years before a warrior of legend and terror had taken it hostage and nearly destroyed it in a frozen night of madness. She topped a small rise and the thick vegetation cleared enough so that she could see into the heart of the forest itself. The heart of the forest was in a concave depression, almost like a crater. Thousands of years ago, the first well was dug here, and it had rapidly filled a small lake. The forests had grown around the well, creating an oasis that the entire city was built around. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. At the heart of the forest was the lake, and near the heart of the lake was Nolan¡¯s tomb, a spire of ice twenty feet high on a rocky island. A tight swirl of snow constantly fell on the little island; the algid temperatures freezing the moisture out of the air endlessly. Eirawen moved through the underbrush and around the trees, drawn to that chunk of ice like iron to a magnet, something in her soul drawing her inexorably closer. She had to see him. Had to see his face, had to- There was a problem, though. How was she to get across the lake? There were very few people allowed into the forest proper, and even when they were allowed, none approached the lake. There were no boats or bridges she could take to reach his tomb, and she could not swim. In a land of deserts, the concept of swimming didn¡¯t exist. Perhaps she could wade across? She approached the water¡¯s edge, and quickly removed her clothes, draping them on a low-hanging branch. She stepped into the water, and began walking slowly and carefully, vaguely repulsed at the silty mud on the bottom of the lake oozing between her toes. The level of the water grew quickly, first her calves, then her knees, and then her waist. As the water rose over her hips, she began moving her hands in the water to keep herself stable in the uncertain footing, and as the water rose to her shoulders she was talking slow strides as she tread the uncomfortably warm water. She was only a third of the way to her goal when she lost her footing and plunged deeper with the water over her head. She scrambled and flailed, feet finally finding the silty bottom. She kicked as hard as she could, and her head broke the surface of the water. She scrambled, legs kicking, arms thrashing against the water, and then her feet found the bottom and she could stand up again. She breathed deeply, taking great gulps of air, calming herself as she stood in water up to her armpits. ¡°There¡¯s... There¡¯s no way I can reach you, father.¡± She said in a low voice. Her frustration rose in her belly and she howled in anger and some indescribable need. ¡°Father! Help me!¡± She screamed, and punched the surface of the water angrily. She raged uncontrollably, lashing out in all directions as she vented her indignation. The water churned and seethed as she slapped, punched and kicked. She turned and stormed out of the lake and back to her clothes. Throwing herself to the bank, she wept bitterly for what seemed like ages. ***** Eirawen had never felt so cold in her life. Her breath came in cloudy puffs in front of her face and her skin was pebbled with gooseflesh. Snow was falling all around her and she was shivering uncontrollably. The entire lake was covered in a thick slush of falling snow and spreading ice. The wind had picked up, and a thick blizzard of sleet and ice was beginning to churn. Night had fallen again, the light was failing. She tried to rise to her feet but she was shivering so much that she could barely manage to shift her position. Suddenly a pale light appeared at the apex of the crystal surrounding Nolan¡¯s tomb. A blast of icy wind roared out, stripping leaves from trees, sheathing branches in a thick rime of ice, and all light winked out except the pale light that flickered fitfully over Nolan¡¯s tomb. The wind stopped, and thick clouds of snow fell slowly, dreamily. A storm of emotions washed over her, a whirling madness of alien thoughts stampeded across her consciousness. Too late... I realized too late, and now you¡¯re gone from me. She comes Perhaps it is she Too late ...inheritance... Can we use her, though? The thoughts blew into and through her in a heartbeat¡¯s time. A swirl of snow revealed a woman clothed in night¡¯s shadows and whirling ice. Around her, the snow had settled into a thick blanket that covered everything. ¡°You approach what none have dared for decades, child.¡± She called to Eirawen. Her voice was low and raspy, brittle hailstones scraping against stone. ¡°He is my father.¡± Eirawen replied. ¡°And what would you do upon reaching him?¡± The woman asked. ¡°If possible, I would free him.¡± Eirawen replied immediately, without thinking. There was a pause. ¡°There is no longer a way to wake him, child.¡± the woman replied, a touch of sadness in her voice. Eirawen¡¯s hands clenched into fists. ¡°I-¡± she began, but stopped, looking away. Could she find a way? ¡°Would you take what was his as inheritance?¡± The woman called to her. ¡°Inheritance?¡± Eirawen repeated, confused. The cold was making it hard to concentrate. ¡°Come to me, child.¡± The woman announced. ¡°The cold addles your wits. Come to me and embrace me as you did your mother, and I will warm you.¡± The woman smiled predatorily. ¡°Come to me.¡± Eirawen took a hesitant step forward, and then another. Her feet were numb and distant things, her legs stiff and awkward. Carlo had told her about the cold, and she had thought she understood, but she realized that her level of understanding was so far beyond what real cold was, she might as well have had no understanding of it at all. She took a tottering step forward and fell to her knees. The shock of her hands plowing into snow up to her wrists ran up her arms and she jolted up to her knees, holding her hands to her chest. She tried to speak and realized she couldn¡¯t. Her jaw was so clenched so tightly it felt like her teeth might shatter in her jaw. She struggled forward on her knees, and realized she was somehow out on the surface of the lake. When she realized this, she faltered, and sank in the water. The water, which had been very warm, was now shockingly cold. It was so cold it froze her veins to her muscles, her muscles to her bones and chilled her bones to glass. It was so cold it didn¡¯t register as cold, only pain. She screamed then, and forced herself to climb out of the hole in the ice and snow and struggle to her feet. She took a tottering step forward, and then another, and then still another, and she realized she was nearly running. This felt much better than moving slowly, so she leaned forward and ran with all her might towards the woman. The woman embraced her, arms encircling her comfortingly. Eirawen wrapped her arms around the other woman as tightly as she could, seeking warmth and comfort from the bizarre, terrifying, and frigid weather that threatened to freeze her to death. ¡°Swear yourself to me.¡± The woman demanded. ¡°Swear and I will fill you with my essence and you will champion my cause.¡± ¡°I s-s-swear.¡± Eirawen chattered through numb lips, and the woman seized Eirawen¡¯s lips with her own, kissing her. An icy rush flowed through her, cascading from her lips to her head, down her neck to her heart, and flowing throughout her body. Her shivering slowed and stopped. ¡°I will give you your inheritance, dear.¡± the woman said silkily. Armor appeared on Eirawen¡¯s form, heavy gauntlets, breastplate, pauldrons, faulds, greaves, boots, bracers, belt. Eirawen stepped back, frowning, examining her armor, flexing her hands in her new armor and turning her arms. The woman raised her hands and two heavy swords appeared, one in each hand. ¡°These are my swords, my creation, the gift I award to the only one that earns my favor, Eirawen. They have many blessings.¡± Eirawen reached for them, but the woman pulled her hands back. ¡°I gave these to your father, knowing he would champion my cause even here on this island, so far removed from the arboreal wastes with which his people call home, and he rewarded my trust with his own. I give them to you now, so that you too may work wonders in my name.¡± She looked down at Eirawen, and touched Eirawen¡¯s face. ¡°I will have faith in you. Pray to me, child, and I will make the swords and gifts yours.¡± Eirawen knelt, and looked up into the impassive face of her father¡¯s goddess. ¡°Eisa.¡± She breathed. ¡°Please...¡± She started, and a wave of power flowed through her so mind-bogglingly strong it knocked her out. Eisa tapped a shadowy finger against snowy lips and looked up at the sky. ¡°If I only had more time to groom you properly.¡± she muttered to herself. She placed a hand to her breast. She knelt. She took her hand away from her breast, and motes of glowing power trailed from her fingers. ¡°Live, girl. Carry my will within you.¡± She commanded. She placed her hand to Eirawen¡¯s chest, and the motes of power flowed into Eirawen, who frowned, lines drawing on her face. Her body illuminated briefly. Eisa glanced over her shoulder, at the thing only she could see, at the thing that pursued her relentlessly. ¡°Unbelievable. To find me here, of all places.¡± She muttered. She glanced down at Eirawen. ¡°I will send you far to the west, girl.¡± She said commandingly, and then teleported her away. She waved her hand dismissively at the swords. ¡°Oh, those too.¡± She glanced up at the sky again, at the relentless, murderous thing that chased her no matter where she went, and she faded away, leaving a snowy, ice-choked lake behind. ***** The clouds vanished under the tropical sun, and the snow melted away as if it had never been. The lake thawed, and Nolan¡¯s Tomb melted away until the lake was clear and empty once more. The figure that had remained trapped in the ice since his final stand some twenty years prior was no longer there. ***** Eight thousand miles away, Eirawen opened her eyes in a wooded forest, a pair of massive swords planted in the dirt near her head. Katarina and Tristan 1 Derid¡¯s stomach churned with both hunger and worry as he tugged on the scarf again. Once more he regretted his rash act of betrayal, breaking free of his Witch Hunter captor and running just as fast as his magic-assisted legs could carry him. His life in the Miskatonik hadn¡¯t been bad at all; it had just been unbelievably boring. ¡°Our job is to excel at mediocrity; if we do our jobs correctly, properly, then nothing will have changed and we will have pride knowing that we have done our job and done it well.¡± His instructor was fond of saying that. Magical advancement was a difficult, arduous process, and ideas like ¡°doing your best¡± had no place in it. Magic was chaos, magic was unpredictable, to use it was both a curse and a gift. ¡°Change¡± was considered disastrous. Experimentation was only allowed under specific circumstances, with constant supervision and deadlines. He knew that. He should have accepted it. Certainly his life had been boring, but at least it had been a life free of mortal peril. He shouldn¡¯t have run. Now the only salvation he could expect was a bullet in the head for his troubles from a Witch Hunter. There was no way he could return, apologize, and beg for his old life back. So here he sat, in perhaps the dirtiest, ugliest pub that existed in all of Aston, all of Hesperia, a scarf wrapped around his neck and tugged up just enough to hide the mark of Sanctioning on his cheek, desperately trying to figure out how to turn his stupid, foolish choice into something that he could live with. Live. What a joke. Sooner or later someone would see the mark on his face, word would spread, and one of those terrifying monstrosities would come riding for him, level their gun in his face, deliver a pronouncement of damnation and finality, and send his soul screaming into the Void. His Goddess was known for healing, for defense of the weak, for fertility. She was not known for Her forgiveness. There were only seven Prayers to the Goddess, none of which involved begging for forgiveness. ¡°¡®Scuse us.¡± a pair of burly men sat at his table. The tavern had filled up faster than he¡¯d expected, and now he was forced to share his tiny table. ¡°Sorry about this. Need to share your table. Want some of our stew?¡± One of the men asked in heavily accented Anglish. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± He muttered, withdrawing into his cloak and resisting the urge to fiddle with his scarf. ¡°So anyway, I was down at the dock and you know the boss, he was ¡°Move this, ya lout, not over here, over there.¡± The man complained to his compatriot. ¡°Man¡¯s got rocks in his head. I dunno what wind had to blow for him to think he knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± ¡°Bah. I know what you mean. This morning he comes and tells me he¡¯s got some ¡®special cargo¡¯ he wants handled carefully, but look at me: Do I look like the kind of man who knows how to handle ¡®special cargo¡¯?¡± He asked and nudged Derid in the ribs. ¡°I- I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t say.¡± Derid let out in a whisper. ¡°By the Void, don¡¯t bother the man.¡± The first chastened his compatriot. He leaned towards Derid. ¡°Sorry about that.¡± He turned his attention back to his coworker and they continued to prattle on and on about their job, which apparently involved moving cargo in a warehouse. Derid let the conversation wash over him. He wasn¡¯t expected to take part, so he picked at his food and wished with all his might that they¡¯d leave. One of the men reached across the table and took the other¡¯s ale. The man¡¯s arm was thick and brawny, a slab of muscle. Fastened across his wrist was a bracelet set with several murky-looking stones. Derid¡¯s eyes widened. Those were spell-stealing stones. He glanced at the other man and could see that the other man also wore a spell-stealing bracelet, as well as a ring. ¡°Ahhh, we¡¯ve been found out.¡± The first man to speak had been watching Derid carefully. ¡°What do you want from me?¡± Derid asked, any hope of surviving another day crumbling like dust. ¡°There¡¯s a cart out back. You¡¯re going to leave the inn and circle around to the back and get in. We¡¯re gonna take you to our boss. He¡¯s been looking for someone like you. Don¡¯t try to run, or we¡¯ll have to break your legs.¡± ¡°What does your boss want?¡± Derid asked, his heart a pile of ash in his chest. ¡°I dunno. We sling cargo. We don¡¯t care where it comes from or where it ends up.¡± Whatever they had in mind, it didn¡¯t seem like they were Witch Hunters. Perhaps there was a scrap of hope to be found? He gave that up immediately. Hope was for people that weren¡¯t idiots and ran from the Church and invoked the wrath of the Witch Hunters. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. He would do as he was told. ***** He¡¯d been stuffed into a box, and the cart rattled towards whatever destination it was intended. He couldn¡¯t hear anything beyond the wooden wheels clattering on cobblestone. His heart and will had crumbled to dust; he had no idea what was in store for him, but whatever it was, it couldn¡¯t be good. There was no future for him. His mind ran in a rat¡¯s maze where every end was a dead end, an end where he died a miserable, pointless death. He¡¯d been an idiot, a fool to have left the pointless mediocrity of the Miskatonik. He¡¯d been an even worse idiot by running from the Witch Hunter that had caught him, a flinty-eyed woman with a bone-white braid and an enormous gun on her hip. When the crate opened up, and he was hauled out, he was in some dank stone room that smelled vaguely of the sea. An older man, in the livery of a servant, stared at Derid with indifferent, glittering eyes. He was thin to the point of emaciation and carried himself with gravid dignity. ¡°He can¡¯t be presented to the master like that. Bathe him.¡± He eyed Derid¡¯s tattered robe and cloak. ¡°And fetch him something more... presentable to wear.¡± He ordered crisply, and left. The two toughs eyed each other and shrugged. ¡°Alrighty, upsie-doodle outta the box. The man says you need a bath, you need a bath. We¡¯ll find you some clothes or something.¡± he added. ¡°I-¡± He began, but shook his head. There was no future for him that didn¡¯t end with a shovelful of dirt in his face. ¡°Okay.¡± They led him up some stairs and down a hallway and down some stairs and around a corner and up some stairs and through a narrow servant¡¯s passage and then down some stairs again, his head whirled with trying to remember anything about the way back. He was brought to a small room that looked to be a deserted servant¡¯s quarters. ¡°There¡¯s a tub there. Strip and bathe. There should be something in the closet that¡¯ll fit you.¡± The first man commanded, and the second man cut in with a snide remark. ¡°You sure? There sure as shit anything in that closet that¡¯d fit you.¡± The first man barked a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m not nearly as skinny as this kid here.¡± He replied. Derid was brought before a chubby man with a bald head and chocolate skin. He had a warm and broad, cheerful smile that contrasted sharply with his hard, calculating eyes. He was dressed in rich-looking robes, and his hands dripped with rings. ¡°So my associates say you¡¯re a mage.¡± He opened with a gesture at a chair. Derid took his seat. ¡°I, uh...¡± He trailed off. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°Good, good. Where were you trained? I see the Mark of Sanction on you, so... the Miskatonik?¡± the man began, and Derid nodded wordlessly. ¡°Good, good. And your aptitudes?¡± ¡°I can sense metals. Beneath the ground, that is. I¡¯ve also spent some time in the forge, refining them.¡± The brown-skinned man pushed a stack of papers at him. ¡°Can you make this?¡± Derid gave him a baffled look, and then looked at the documents. As he paged through them, he could see lists of materials and magical formulae. ¡°This looks like... designs for a magical light.¡± The man nodded. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what it is. I need a mage to build them for me. I want to fill my mansion with them.¡± Derid blinked. What a mundane request. He carefully went over the list and schematics again; there didn¡¯t seem to be anything particularly special about them. Lantern sized, they would collect ambient magical power and convert it into a light similar to a flame. ¡°If.... if i had the materials, I think i could build these.¡± He offered. ¡°The formulae are all here.¡± ¡°Fantastic news.¡± The man replied. ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to get my hand on any of the Light Crystals that Darnell selfishly hoards to themselves, so I asked a... friend for a favor. I just need a mage to put it together.¡± The man tapped his fingers together. ¡°I have connections, you know. I can get you out from under the thumb of the Church and out of sight of the Witch Hunters. All you have to do is make these for my mansion.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°Do we have a deal?¡± Derid nodded. ***** Katarina rode into town, Tristan trotting by her side. She¡¯d gotten some looks about the dire wolf, but as he kept to her side and didn¡¯t look as if it meant to attack anyone, people tended to ignore him, though they gave the fierce-looking beast a wide berth. It¡¯d been a week since Derid had broken his bonds and dashed away, faster than she could draw. She¡¯d hurriedly packed up her camp and lit out after him, her ability to sense magic allowing her to follow his magically-dusted footsteps even when the footing was poor and tracking all but impossible with normal means. She''d named the dire wolf after an old legendary character from ancient history. Tristan had been the grandson of Weyland, the Smith of a Thousand Swords. Weyland himself had sired Roland, another famous swordsmith, but Tristan himself was known as The Swordbreaker, in direct contradiction of his lineage. There wasn''t much else to his legend, but Katarina liked the associations that went with the name. Disappointingly, Derid''s trail disappeared into the town of Aston; with luck she''d be able to find a clue, a witness, something that would lead her to the man, but luck was scarce enough to remember her training. Derid''s file led her to believe that he was for the most part harmless, having only barely passed his initial assessments in his magical capabilities, though untrained mages always carried an enormous element of unpredictability. The streets were churned mud, and it didn''t help that she had nothing of the mage to give to Tristan so that he could help track by scent. She''d have to find an inn or a tavern and listen for gossip, though that was no surefire way to pick up any clues. Katarina and Tristan 2 Tristan watched Katarina intently, waiting for a command, a direction. Dire Wolves were matriarchal by nature and he''d had no problems whatsoever accepting her leadership in the strange, two-party pack he''d found himself in. She carried herself with strength, and there was a sense of long cunning in her, both traits vital to the survival of a pack. After he''d joined her pack, they''d journeyed to several places, hunting down people. He didn''t understand why they were hunting people; they were apparently inedible because he had never once seen her eat them, nor had she given permission for him to eat them, either. Katarina''s mind was a tangled mess of emotions and it was difficult for him to understand her direction, leaving him with the struggle to understand on his own. She provided him with food, comfort from the cold, and the companionship that was so essential for the pack''s survival, but her sense of command was distant and difficult to interpret. Eventually he came to decide that understanding the why of hunting people wasn''t necessary. Why was her job. Hunting and tracking was his. Several sunrises back, she had captured a human with the bitter scent of old sweat and desperation and bound the man with cords. Several hours later, the man had broken free and fled, forcing them to take up the hunt again. Tristan could have led Katarina to the man, but she also seemed to have his scent; she followed doggedly, relentlessly for days. And now this place, a place of people, a place with a thousand myriad scents like knotted strings. He looked up towards Katarina. Were they going to continue tracking the same man? He could do that, if she just gave the command. ***** Aston was a small town, so there was a chance that the inns would carry rumors of strangers, but on the flip side, they were intending on building out the small lumber town into a port city for the Yamato, so there was equally the chance that a stranger would go completely unnoticed. When she¡¯d captured Derid, the first thing she¡¯d done had been to strip him of his belongings in case he held a weapon or a magical implement of some sort. Fortunately for her, he¡¯d only had a handful of coppers, which she¡¯d pocketed indifferently. She stopped just outside the town proper and looked it over. Towards the city center there would likely be a number of inns and taverns, but the man didn¡¯t have a coin to his name. On the outer edge of the city there were a couple of rundown taverns; it could be that he¡¯d taken refuge in one of them. She¡¯d have a look. She stepped past a pair of men pulling a handcart out from an alley and stepped into the tavern itself, and invoked her auravision. If he¡¯d used magic, it would show up as telltale residue, but unfortunately for her, there was nothing at all to indicate he¡¯d done such a thing. She pushed her way to the counter, passed a couple of coppers to the filthy man that was drawing ales and pushing bowls of stew across the bar. ¡°Seen any strangers?¡± She asked, and he shrugged indifferently. ¡°I seen you.¡± He replied, pudgy cheeks specked with a salt-and-pepper beard. Katarina gave him a sour look. ¡°Nah. Looking for a man. Thin, scrawny. Gray cloak, brown scarf.¡± She rolled a silver coin across her knuckles before she made it disappear, a trivial sleight of hand to encourage him to talk. The bartender¡¯s eyes lit up at the sight of an actual silver coin, but he jutted his chin at the crowd. ¡°Man like that wouldn¡¯t stick out in that.¡± He replied regretfully. Katarina tapped her cheek. ¡°He¡¯s got a tattoo, if you catch my meaning.¡± She urged, but the man shook his head. ¡°Miss, you gonna buy sommin¡¯ or are you gonna stand there jawin¡¯ me?¡± He asked, frustrated, and Katarina grimaced. ¡°Up!¡± Katarina shouted and slapped her hand on the counter. Her dire wolf leapt up out of the press of bodies in the tavern onto the counter, causing everyone to draw back in shock. Some of the men that looked to be lumberjacks reached for the axes at their waists at the oversized wolf. Tristan was huge for a wolf, and Katarina had been told that when he was fully grown he would nearly be the size of a horse. His horns had come in, peeking out from his forehead and powerful shoulders and down his spine, lending him a fearsome aspect. ¡°Now that I have everyone¡¯s attention,¡± Katarina began while describing the man she was looking for. She eyed the crowd, all of whom were in terror of the beast that perched on the bar. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. All she received for her efforts were a double dozen heads shaking in terror and negation. ¡°Fuck.¡± She muttered, and turned back to the bar. She grabbed one of the bowls of stew that hadn¡¯t been knocked to the ground and pushed it towards Tristan, who lapped it up eagerly. Once he¡¯d finished the greasy mess of meat and vegetables and was licking the bowl, she snapped her fingers in a command to follow, and pushed her way to the exit, her wolf trotting dutifully behind her. She left the tavern and headed for the next. Someone, somewhere had to have a clue where the mage had gotten off to. It was at her third tavern of the evening when she was accosted by the town militia. ¡°People¡¯re sayin¡¯ you been causin¡¯ trouble, summoning fearsome beasts. You¡¯re under arrest for witchcraft and heresy.¡± One of them declared, waving his spearpoint in her face. She knocked the spearpoint aside and pulled out her holy symbol and shoved it in his face. ¡°I¡¯m a Witch Hunter you simpleton, now get the fuck out of my way.¡± she demanded, ¡°before I decide to add another heretic to the list of the ones I¡¯m already hunting.¡± She snarled. The man stepped back, but she stepped forward, pushing her holy symbol into his face so that the cold metal gouged at his cheek. ¡°R-r-right!¡± The man finally agreed, and he and his men pulled back. She ran the mages¡¯ description by them, and they shook their heads, but agreed to look out for him. After they¡¯d taken to their heels and fled, Katarina allowed herself to slump in disappointment for a moment. ¡°The Church.¡± She decided, and turned her horse in the direction of the ostentatious building at the center of town. At the church, she swung down from her horse and took off her hat while absently giving Tristan the hand signal to stay at her heels. She strode inside, flipping her braid over her shoulder, Tristan right behind her. A pastor was guiding a choir through a hymn; she passed him without a glance and moved deeper into the church, passing the wing where another pastor was lecturing some of the township on the virtues of upright living, and the terror of living outside of the Goddess¡¯ own holy light. The world was filled with blasphemies, monsters, mutants, and madness, and it was only the Golden Lady¡¯s protection that could keep them safe. An acolyte rushed towards her and skidded to a stop. ¡°Uhhh, miss, errr, I mean, animals aren¡¯t allowed-¡± ¡°Oh shut the fuck up.¡± Katarina replied impatiently, and thrust her holy symbol in his face. ¡°I can do whatever the fuck I want.¡± She declared flatly. ¡°Take me to whoever¡¯s in charge and be quick about it.¡± ***** Tristan didn¡¯t understand what Katarina wanted. Weren¡¯t they chasing after someone? Had that changed? She¡¯d strode right by the scent of the man she¡¯d caught earlier as if she hadn¡¯t noticed. Still, he followed where she led. He rather liked the food she¡¯d given him at the place filled with the stink of terror that wafted from the pores of all that were there, though it was a depressingly small amount. Would they go back? He hoped they would. ***** ¡°The bishop is out for the evening; is there something I can assist you with...¡± the man¡¯s eyes traveled the length of her figure twice. It was obscenity itself to see a woman wearing trousers like a man, though he had to admit the woman was attractive enough to nearly distract him from it. Katarina grimaced. ¡°You are?¡± She asked pointedly, and gestured; Tristan took the signal and interposed himself between her and the man, who hurriedly took a step backward. ¡°Archpastor Jason Greenstreet.¡± he replied, deciding to step away from the bone-spiked wolf and keep his eyes on the woman that controlled it. ¡°I serve as the temporary governor of the city and oversee its administrative needs.¡± He explained. ¡°I¡¯m hunting a Witch.¡± Katarina explained flatly. ¡°He¡¯s been in your city for at least a day, maybe two.¡± An alarmed look passed across his face. ¡°A Witch-¡± he took another uncertain step backwards. ¡°A Witch, here?¡± he exclaimed in a low voice. ¡°You know where he is?¡± Katarina asked, and the man rubbed his chin. ¡°The only thing I¡¯ve heard this evening is reports of a woman-¡± he cut himself off as she gave him a lopsided grin and pulled back her duster from her hip to reveal the heavy gun. ¡°...right.¡± He stammered, but shook his head. ¡°Any place a penniless man might go to ground?¡± Katarina asked. ¡°He¡¯s probably looking for a place to hide.¡± ¡°Does he have a visible Mark of Sanction?¡± He asked, and she nodded and tapped her cheek. ¡°Hmm. Would be hard to hide something like that, I¡¯d imagine.¡± Katarina wordlessly lifted her neckerchief and covered the lower half of her face with it while giving him an ostentatious look of condescension. ¡°...right.¡± He agreed again, in a defeated voice. ¡°Still, there¡¯s not much I can do for you right now. It¡¯s possible that in the morning, you could speak with the Bishop? The morning reports?¡± Katarina let out a sigh. Every moment separated her from her quarry a moment longer than she¡¯d like. ¡°Fine. Do you have a room for those of the Defender?¡± She asked, referring to the Golden Lady in her militaristic aspect. He nodded. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be a problem at all.¡± Katarina nodded, and then eyed Tristan. That little bowl of stew likely wasn¡¯t enough to satisfy the giant wolf. ¡°And give me some food for him.¡± she stated, indicating the wolf that was currently investigating the man¡¯s shoes, sniffing curiously. She took a conspiratory step to the man and lowered her voice. ¡°He really likes meat.¡± Katarina and Tristan 3 Tristan really enjoyed the food that¡¯d been provided to him by Katarina, and while the tiny room evoked a sense of claustrophobia in him, Katarina didn¡¯t seem to mind at all, casually tossing her packs and saddlebags into a corner and collapsing onto the narrow cot in exhaustion. He himself settled himself by the door as guard against intruders. Katarina¡¯s mind was churning even as she slept, a confusing mass of emotions, snippets of conversation, bits of dreamstuff. Threading through all of it, however, was the need to find the man they¡¯d lost. Once again, Tristan was forced into a position where he was forced to think for himself. It wasn¡¯t something that he was supposed to do. The Matriarch did the thinking, he did the following. It was he that brought his fangs and claws to bear for his matriarch, but it was his matriarch who decided what the prey was. Katarina obviously wanted to find the man they were chasing, but for some reason he couldn¡¯t understand, she couldn¡¯t differentiate between his smell and the smell of others, or perhaps she had missed it? This concerned him. As matriarch, it was her responsibility to sniff out threats, food, shelter, and define the territory that he was to protect. He wasn¡¯t certain if the man was a threat or food, but she pursued him. She¡¯d never eaten any of the people she¡¯d captured, but she had killed a few. That could mean that the man was a threat to Katarina¡¯s territory. He could understand that. He¡¯d learned her signals easily enough; they were simplistic and any pup worth his fur would have learned them in a heartbeat, but... could it be that she couldn¡¯t understand his signals? There was a lot she seemed to overlook, and that worried him. For one, she never seemed to notice when The Thunder That Looked Like a Woman made her appearances. He was terrified of that one, and he would hunker down against the ground and huddle and whimper whenever She showed up. Katarina tossed in her sleep; an old nightmare stalked her mind as she slept. It often haunted her, a dream of pain, betrayal, and a great, tearing hurt that seemed to rip through her whole body. If that nightmare was to appear in front of him, he would tear it apart with his teeth if he could. So thinking, he leaked a little in fear as The Thunder That Looked Like a Woman appeared in their tiny cell without warning. The Thunder That Looked Like a Woman watched Katarina for a few silent minutes, and then, terrifyingly, looked to him. He squinched his eyes shut and made a mess of himself as the ozone scent of lightning washed over him. He whimpered a little as a new nightmare intruded into Katarina¡¯s mind; a nightmare that stood not more than a couple of feet from her bed, glaring down at her. The Thunder That Looked Like a Woman disappeared from his senses, and he hazarded a quick peek. The Thunder That Looked Like a Woman had vanished again. Though the new nightmare still stalked Katarina¡¯s sleeping mind, The Thunder That Looked Like a Woman had left. He got up, thoroughly disgusted with the shameful puddle he¡¯d made, and settled himself next to Katarina¡¯s bed, as close as he could, to gain what comfort he could. ***** Katarina awoke in the morning and nearly stepped on Tristan, huddled up next to her bed. Her nose wrinkled; he¡¯d piddled on the floor overnight. She shook out her hair and rebraided it, then gave Tristan a pat. ¡°Hey, piddle-pup.¡± She chastised gently. ¡°Let¡¯s get some food in us and keep looking. Derid couldn¡¯t have gotten too far away.¡± She paused, and then added a ¡°hopefully¡±. Breakfast was taken in the temple¡¯s cafeteria, where she sneaked the wolf some bits of bacon to him. He was a faithful companion, though she hadn¡¯t been entirely successful in teaching him not to do his business inside buildings. Well, it was something for the acolytes to clean up, anyway. Something like that built character. After she finished eating, she pulled out her gun and disassembled it and went through the Rites of Cleaning. Tristan didn¡¯t much like the smell of the gun, but he was endlessly fascinated by the cartridges that were coated in beeswax. Perhaps he¡¯d encountered some honeycomb before he¡¯d been given to her. First on her list of things to do was to meet with the Bishop. She pushed herself up from the table and waved her hand; Tristan fell into place behind her as he¡¯d been trained. The bishop, a portly man with chocolate skin and a syrupy smile greeted her warmly. ¡°I¡¯d heard that a Witch Hunter had arrived in the city, but I had no idea it would be a woman!¡± He exclaimed gently, and spread his hands wide. ¡°Please, tell me what you need.¡± ¡°I¡¯m looking for an escaped Witch. His name is Derid, and he¡¯s got a Sanctioning mark on his cheek.¡± She explained. ¡°I told this to Greenstreet last night.¡± The Bishop gave her a baffled look. ¡°I received no such report.¡± His face grew troubled, and he continued, ¡°Though, if I must be completely honest, that man¡¯s been trying to undercut my authority ever since I was appointed as Bishop to this region. Aston is developing into a major concern and the need for an administrator like Greenstreet is rapidly becoming obsolete.¡± Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Katarina frowned at this. ¡°I don¡¯t see how this is relevant.¡± She argued. The bishop sighed. ¡°He¡¯s been acting suspiciously lately. And, as I said, he¡¯s trying to undermine my authority. There¡¯s a possibility that he¡¯s given this mage of yours refuge.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand. What does he stand to gain by giving a Witch refuge?¡± Katarina asked. ¡°Whatever that mage is capable of, he can have them create all sorts of mischief about town, and lay the blame at my feet. My authority is undermined; he seizes power.¡± He shrugged and shook his head. ¡°If I were you, I¡¯d give his mansion a once-over and see what you turn up.¡± He adjusted the stole that lay across his shoulders. ¡°Meanwhile, I¡¯ll have some militia, men that I trust, quarter the city. Just to be on the safe side.¡± Katarina let out a short sigh, and then gestured at Tristan. ¡°A moment, Witch Hunter-¡± The Bishop suddenly asked. Katarina turned and eyed the man curiously, impatiently twirling her hat on one finger. ¡°What do you feed such a beast?¡± He asked with unvarnished curiosity, gesturing at Tristan, who looked back at the Bishop. Katarina raised an eyebrow. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? Heretics and blasphemers.¡± She exited the office, Tristan on her heels. For a moment, just a moment, the Bishop could imagine Katarina ordering that monstrous beast to tear out his throat, could feel the teeth digging in, the hot spurt of blood, the crunch of a crushed windpipe. ***** Instead of following the Bishop¡¯s advice, Katarina left the city, and returned to the trail she¡¯d made in her pursuit of Derid. Sometimes it helped to retrace ones¡¯ steps to get a fresh start, a different perspective, with a clear head. She examined one of his footprints, now devoid of any magical residue carefully, prodding it with the tip of her finger, before moving on to the next one. Tristan circled her as she sat in thought, trying to figure out if there were any clues or signs she could use to track the errant mage. There was a thread, a tenuous hope that dangled precariously, a hint, a possibility that lurked on the edge of Katarina¡¯s mind, something she couldn¡¯t quite fix in her mind, so she went back and forth between the two footprints while she tried to make sense of the shadow of a clue the mage had left her. Suddenly, it clicked, but it was so stupid it wasn¡¯t even worth considering. Many peasants were superstitious in their own ways; one of their superstitions was they would take thin nails, like the kind used in shoeing horses, and crisscross them into a six-pointed star on the heels of their boots, a simplified lily. Some chose to do it on the left foot, so that their hearts would be protected by the Goddess, others the right so that their minds and affairs of business might fall under the Goddess¡¯ own protection, and still yet others, both feet. Derid¡¯s prints held neither. It was a small thing, an inconsequential thing. Any tracks he¡¯d made in town were probably obliterated, but if there was a chance, she¡¯d bet on it. She slowly walked back to the town, eyeing the churned up earth and she was right, the tracks of the commonfolk here had prints with nails in their heels, but there appeared to be a print that had neither. When she approached it, Tristan gave a small bark and sniffed a different print. Katarina raised an eyebrow, but examined it. It certainly was the same size and shape of Derid¡¯s shoe prints, but there wasn¡¯t anything that distinguished it from any other- except that Tristan led her to another in the road, and then still yet another until they arrived right at the door to the first tavern they¡¯d arrived at. ¡°Coincidence.¡± She muttered, but Tristan led her around into the alley and towards the back, where the prints stopped. He gave her a little whuffing bark, and she knelt to consider the tracks and the impressions. Whoever had made these tracks had slipped in the mud in a strange way. Katarina squatted and absentmindedly scratched Tristan behind the ears as she considered the story told in the mud. There were several sets of footprints, two of them large, with prints that pressed deeply into the dirt. ¡°Two large and heavy guys.¡± she mused to herself. Had she seen people like that last night? There were a lot of people in the tavern that could have fit the description, and a good many of them were lumberjacks by trade. There were cart tracks, too. One set seemingly lightly pressed into the first, the other set much heavier. She idly wrapped her braid around her neck and tried to reconstruct what had happened. Logically, someone had made a delivery here. A handcart, loaded with something heavy, had stopped here, the load was removed, and then taken into the inn, and then the cart was taken back to wherever it had left. Except that the tracks were telling the story in reverse. Someone had brought an empty cart to the back of the tavern, and then a heavier load was taken away. The smeared footprint would account for the posture of someone who was climbing into such a thing. Something else didn¡¯t fit, either. Delivery carts in the cities were usually made with broad, thick wooden wheels. The wheels on this cart were narrow and banded with metal. Not the type of cart that one would use to carry cargo into a muddy street. A heavy cart with thin, narrow wheels would sink in the mud and be difficult to move. ¡°And it¡¯d leave pretty obvious tracks to follow.¡± She muttered and Tristan seemingly whuffed his agreement. Katarina eyed Tristan. ¡°What do you think? Should we follow the cart?¡± She asked, and not expecting anything in response added, ¡°bark once for yes, twice for no¡± in a sardonic tone. Tristan barked once, sharply. ¡°Hmm.¡± Katarina muttered. Coincidence, surely. She carefully moved around the area to examine the tracks from different perspectives, weighing her decision. It was far more likely that something had been unloaded by cart, rather than Derid conveniently finding a cart to jump into. Anyone pulling such a thing would immediately understand that there was a grown man¡¯s weight in the cart. Tristan immediately trailed the cart with his nose, looked back at Katarina, and barked once again. ¡°I¡¯m trusting you on this.¡± She remarked skeptically as she rose to her feet. ***** The ruts in the mud were destroyed in several places by foot traffic through the mud, though now that Katarina had a trail to follow, she was able to pick it up several feet ahead later. Also, Tristan seemed to follow the trail easier than her, so even when it faded, she was able to pick it right back up on his lead. Katarina and Tristan 4 Tristan was happy to have a trail to follow, though he was worried about the sense of uncertainty that radiated out from Katarina. A proper matriarch radiated confidence and surety of purpose, even when things were uncertain. Could it be her sense of smell was differed from his? She carried things that easily destroyed his own sense of smell; that thing on her hip for example carried a scent of violence and menace, a powerful smell that seemed to drown out everything whenever she pulled it from her holster. The mouth-watering scent of meat suddenly overwhelmed his senses, and he looked up and back to Katarina, who was talking to a man who was shaving meat from a pile of meat. Katarina shook her head at the man and then pointed at Tristan. The man grimaced but nodded, and then offered her the whole pile of meat. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. She laughed, nodded, and took the meat, which appeared to be held together with a metal rod. ¡°Look at you. Your eyes are glued to this.¡± She murmured with a smile as she led Tristan to a bench and gestured for him to eat. The meat was flavorful and delicious, juicy and succulent. He tore great chunks of the meat and swallowed it whole while Katarina, his matriarch ate more reservedly. ¡°I hope we can find Derid soon.¡± She muttered in a frustrated voice. He tried to send to her that it wouldn¡¯t be long now, that they would be on the trail again as soon as he was done eating, but something curious happened. Her mind hardened, keeping him out. She rubbed her forehead and frowned. ¡°Headache.¡± She muttered. That was unsettling to him. His kind, the Dire Wolves, relied heavily on the ability to communicate with each other. While there was a lot that could be expressed through body language, much more could be shared through the interconnection between them. Sasaki the Thunderblade ¡°There¡¯s something you might be interested in, if you¡¯ve a mind for it.¡± Nadette offered abruptly. ¡°If you dare.¡± Sasaki could recognize what passed for a smirk in the scarred ruin in the paladin¡¯s face. Sasaki raised her eyebrows interrogatively. ¡°Oh?¡± Nadette nodded, and handed Sasaki a folded piece of paper. ¡°Go to the Alstroemeria, to the Lady Cardinal quarters. There will be guards; this will let you pass.¡± Sasaki gave her a puzzled look, but took the proffered slip of paper. ¡°What is it I¡¯m supposed to be looking for?¡± She asked, and Nadette smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what was told to me: ¡®A gift from those who come before to those who follow after.¡¯¡± The older paladin shrugged. ¡°Maybe it¡¯ll be something you¡¯ll appreciate.¡± The apartments she was allowed into held the too-still atmosphere of emptiness and abandonment. Whomever it was that had lived here, they were there no longer. Immediately upon entering the apartments, she was presented with Anglish House banners. She puzzled over them for a time. So much history could be represented in the conglomeration of images, but she was Yamato; the banners were incomprehensible to her. She made a mental note to correct that. She was supposed to be a Witch Hunter of the Golden Lady, she couldn¡¯t afford to think of herself as apart from Her people. To the left was the study; a single book rested on the heavy desk. She approached and looked at the cover; the title wasn¡¯t stenciled or carved on the front or the spine. She opened the book to the first page and her eyebrows climbed. ¡°The gun does not make the Witch Hunter. The sash, the bells, the spurs, the Holy Symbol don¡¯t make the Witch Hunter. What makes the Witch Hunter is pure determination and unwavering faith in the Golden Lady...¡± A treatise on the Path of the Witch Hunter, penned by Katarina. Were these then, her quarters? It didn¡¯t make sense. These were apartments for Lady Cardinals, the women who made up the Book of the Golden Lady, the governing body of the Anglish Empire. She closed the book, but made a mental note to make sure she read it. Katarina had been a Witch Hunter for ten years, longer than most Witch Hunters. Anything she had to say on the subject of being a Witch Hunter would be priceless, beyond value. She stepped out of the side door to the study and was presented with a full-body portrait of Katarina herself. Stern, regal, noble, in a dress of all things. Sasaki couldn¡¯t help but fight back a grin. She looked so strange in a noblewoman¡¯s dress. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°You don¡¯t look happy about it either.¡± Sasaki murmured up at the painting. ¡°Frankly speaking, you look pissed off.¡± ¡°Just for curiosity¡¯s sake, who was it that gave you permission to be here?¡± A voice called from behind. Sasaki whirled, shoulder dropping so that her sword was in easy reach. The woman who faced her was taller than Sasaki, but shorter than Katarina, with tumbling waves of deep brown, nearly black hair. She wore the deep crimson robes and stole of the Lady Cardinals. Sasaki recognized her anyway from the High Court, but couldn¡¯t put a name to her, since she hadn¡¯t been introduced. ¡°Nadette.¡± Sasaki replied simply, daring the woman to challenge her right to be here, even if she wasn¡¯t quite certain why she was here. ¡°Ah. Makes sense.¡± The woman replied, approaching calmly. ¡°I¡¯m assuming she gave you a pass?¡± Sasaki nodded, and the woman nodded back. ¡°I remember you. You¡¯re the one who petitioned to be Katarina¡¯s apprentice.¡± She paused in thought. ¡°Sasaki?¡± She offered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I didn¡¯t pronounce it correctly.¡± Sasaki nodded. ¡°Good enough.¡± she agreed. ¡°Well if you¡¯re here, then Nadette... well, no matter. Seeing is better than explaining.¡± She gestured at Sasaki, and then moved past the smaller woman. ¡°It¡¯s out on the balcony.¡± Confused, Sasaki followed the other woman up the stairs to the second level, through the private garden, and out to the balcony. At first she couldn¡¯t understand what it was she was looking at. An icicle, perhaps growing up from the ground? But as she got closer, it looked to be something like crystal, or perhaps glass. She forced her eyes away from it and examined the balcony in which it was planted. Words seemed carved, or perhaps etched into the stone around the crystal plinth, which when viewed from a side, seemed impossibly thin. ¡°I don¡¯t recognize the words.¡± Sasaki muttered, frustrated. ¡°I should imagine not. It¡¯s an old tongue. Katarina did always have a flair for the dramatic.¡± the woman responded immediately. ¡°The translation is, ¡®A gift from those who come before-¡¯¡± ¡°-to those who follow after.¡± Sasaki finished. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right.¡± the woman replied. ¡°Though anyone who has tried to touch it has received a frightful shock.¡± ¡°A shock?¡± Sasaki asked, turning to the other woman, who nodded. ¡°¡®Like getting hit with a bolt of lightning¡¯, they said.¡± The woman chuckled dryly. ¡°One neophyte Witch Hunter actually snuck up the side of the Alstroemeria to try for it. Can you imagine? The shock knocked her half-witless. The guards took care of the rest, and if the girl had any wits at all left in her head, they were certainly beaten by Cyrilus.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a sword... of glass?¡± Sasaki observed doubtfully. ¡°Fulgurite.¡± The other woman corrected. ¡°Lightning-glass. As strong as steel.¡± Sasaki could see the mineral streaks and flecks; gold and red, green and purple, evidence of strange elements in the glass itself. Sasaki the Witch Hunter Sasaki the Witch Hunter A cold and bitter wind blew in Sasaki¡¯s heart as she approached Darnell. After the subjugation of the Urthan and the reclamation of Aston it was easy enough for her to fade, disappear into the throngs of people that moved and lived in the production city. Now she faced a different sort of foe, one that even the Blessed Katarina had failed to subjugate: the overwhelming bureaucratic engine that was the city of Darnell. ***** While Sasaki arrived in Aston, Araya the Diviner had disappeared, along with a significant number of Yamato, enough that ships had been dispatched from Yamato lands to reclaim key positions. Araya was feared dead, a crippling blow to the Yamato and the Anglish Empire. There were angry mutters from the arriving Yamato in Aston that the Yamato needed to revive the Hundredfold Vow, an ancient tradition of repaying a grudge one hundred times over, and the desire to wage their own personal campaign against the Urthan, regardless whether or not the Anglish had brokered peace with their northern neighbors. Sasaki had been given an assignment, however: Track down a Sanctioned mage that had somehow disappeared during the retaking of Aston. There was a great deal of speculation and ambiguity as to the young man¡¯s motives. Perhaps he¡¯d run away in the fighting, perhaps he¡¯d deserted, it could have been that he simply had gotten lost, separated from the main unit in the howling snows north of Aston. How would a mage disappear? She¡¯d asked herself. She no longer had Katarina or Kuroyuki to rely on; she¡¯d need to figure things out for herself. The answer was surprisingly quick to come to her: the same way a Yamato woman might disappear. Sasaki had changed her clothes from the traditional Yamato dress, purchased a thick cloak, and avoided talking with people overmuch because her accent stood out like a sore thumb. The Sanctioned mage had a facial tattoo; the mark of Sanctioning was prominent. It¡¯d make sense that he¡¯d hide his face, dispose of his robes and try to disappear. She¡¯d scoured secondhand clothes shops and gotten a lead; the lead had turned into a trail, and the trail had led to a kill. Strictly speaking it wasn¡¯t necessary for her to kill the mage, but Sasaki wasn¡¯t confident in the amount of training she¡¯d been given in Darnell before getting whisked away by Kuroyuki. Strictly speaking, she¡¯d been terrified of the possibility that the mage would kill her, though she wouldn¡¯t have admitted it to anyone, save perhaps Katarina herself. She¡¯d wanted to return to Darnell as quickly as possible, but assignments kept rolling in, one after another. She hated riding horses, but she¡¯d gradually become accustomed to them. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Somehow, her prayers to the Golden Lady had gradually evolved to prayers to Katarina. ¡°Please, please Katarina, please give me your wisdom so that I don¡¯t fuck this up.¡± Her travels before she¡¯d met Katarina had been casual, lackadaisical, without fear. There hadn¡¯t been anything she was afraid of. Beastmen, mutants, bandits, it was all the same to her. Mages, however, terrified her. While she¡¯d wandered the lands of Hesperia looking for things to test her skill against, she hadn¡¯t truly realized how alone she really was until she¡¯d chosen to walk the path of the Witch Hunter. Mages terrified her. They commanded powers both mystifying and terrible. She wasn¡¯t particularly versed on how mages were dealt with in her homeland, but no doubt those who were afflicted with the curse of magic likely offered their lives in ritual suicide so as to not bring dishonor upon their families. Here, there was just her, her sword, and her guns against those who dared wield powers far beyond mortal grasp. ¡°Saint Katarina, protect and bless me against the terror of the mage. Give me the courage to do what must be done.¡± She once spent a week tucked in the crook of a tree branch, waiting for a mage to happen by. The woman, half-mad and mutating, never even knew what hit her, Sasaki¡¯s bullet sending the mages¡¯ tortured soul careening into the Void of Oblivion. In Tannit, she¡¯d found herself somehow welcomed into a reclusive society that¡¯d turned out to be a cult of demon-worshipping mages. It was difficult to measure whose surprise was greater; Sasaki¡¯s realization or the cultist¡¯s shock when Sasaki began her frantic, brutal massacre. It was there, in the city of Tannit, where she decided to turn in her bounties. While she was waiting, she was summoned by the local bishop and presented with a message bound with a crimson ribbon and sealed with the seal of the Arm of the Sword. ¡°Effective immediately, your Witch Hunter activities are to cease. Return to Darnell immediately.¡± ***** Sasaki wasn¡¯t terribly fond of boats. She didn¡¯t get seasick, but there was a certain amount of frustration that came from being stuck in one spot and unable to move around very much. She much preferred to be on land, where she could move her body and exercise. However, boats were faster... and she didn¡¯t have to ride a horse. As the ship or boat or whatever it was called pulled into the harbor, the captain decided that it was time to gossip with Sasaki. He pointed out massive boats that rode low in the water that sailed into the harbor ahead of them. ¡°You know, those¡¯re carrying golden marble all the way from Philippa.¡± ¡°Is that so?¡± Sasaki asked indifferently. She had no idea where Philippa was or why it was so important. ¡°Aye. It takes golden marble to make a proper statue, and they intend it to be the grandest statue yet.¡± ¡°That makes sense. Wouldn¡¯t want to make a statue from anything else.¡± She mused. ¡°Aye. Wouldna surprise me if they¡¯ve called sculptors from all over the Empire for the undertaking.¡± ¡°You definitely would want the best.¡± Sasaki agreed. ¡°I¡¯d never met Her Radiance before, but it¡¯s been said that Saint Katarina was surely the most beautiful woman in the Empire.¡± The captain replied reverently. Then, as if to contradict the awe he professed, he directed a stream of lurid curses at his sailors as they made their approach into the harbor. Adalynn Wolfe and Natalia lon Pavlenko Natalia knew she had a privileged position in life. She knew this, because her grandmother drilled it into her every single day. She was the first Doamna Pavlenko in hundreds of years. According to Grandmother, the title meant ¡°Grand Princess¡±, a title the House had recently re-inherited. Her cousins didn¡¯t particularly think it was so great. Natalia was trained in the sword starting at the age of ten, her first blade a hunter¡¯s sword from the ancestral homeland, because her cousins wanted her dead. ¡°It could hardly be a sword.¡± She had been known to say, considering the blade a mere two feet in length. She realized however, a real sword was beyond her at that age. ¡°Today, I want you to read in the gardens, Natalia.¡± her bunica, her grandmother instructed. ¡°Your history is weak. And take your sword, too. We do not have so many guards as to keep you watched all the time.¡± She understood that. The estate was brimming with Pavlenkos, with each group their own guards. Family discussions were tense. She wanted to know about her mother, but grandmother only waved the question away. ¡°When you are older.¡± Natalia was no slouch. For her to be Doamna, her mother must have been before her. The Church of the Golden Lady kept sending requests for her to attend the Preux Academia, the state-run school for nobility. They were falling all over themselves for her to begin her attendance at 11. They offered everything, a dazzling prize. Tutors, scholarships, books, extra lessons, advanced training in any subject, had she wished. Truth be told, she wanted nothing more than to sing. But that was nothing the Church would want to hear, and it¡¯s certainly nothing Bianka lon Pavlenko wanted to hear. Granpa Pavlenko was more open to the idea, but he always told her, ¡°Little heart, Bianka is going through a rough time right now. Give her space. Besides, you aren¡¯t even eleven yet! Go practice the sword!¡± Natalia wondered if her own mother had suffered such indignities from her parents. ¡°Bunic Grandfather, She has never told me of my mother.¡± She complained. ¡°I can recite the matriarchy from ¡®Doamna¡¯ Mihaela lon Pavlenko down through Boiar Anastasija lon Pavlenko. Boiar Arina lon Pavlenko, Boiar Claudia lon Pavlenko, Boiar Bianka lon Pavlenko..." She paused. ¡°And then, there¡¯s me: Doamna Natalia lon Pavlenko.¡± She grit her teeth, eyes bright with unshed tears. ¡°I want to know of my mother! Was she such a disgrace that we pretend she doesn¡¯t exist?!¡± She screamed. Rickard picked up the young girl and enfolded her in his arms. He was old, older than perhaps he should be, but he could still pick up a young lady in tears and comfort her. ¡°We wanted to keep you safe.¡± He began in a soothing voice. ¡°Knowing who your mother was- what she is- makes you extremely dangerous, little ¡®Talia.¡± he murmured. ¡°If anyone knew- anyone!- they would try to kill you. Or worse.¡± ¡°Wha- what are you talking about?¡± She whispered. ¡°You need to be a little older for that conversation.¡± He comforted her gently. ¡°It¡¯s that serious?¡± She asked, and he nodded. ¡°I swear.¡± Somehow, uneasily, she assumed the worst. Her mother was some freakish mutant that had somehow spit out a human child. ¡°You want to see her?¡± He asked, and she immediately jumped up. ¡°Her portrait is in the Hall of Ancestors. Maybe you¡¯ll recognize her on sight. Or not.¡± She dashed through the halls, gripping her skirts so she wouldn¡¯t trip. Her grandmother would take a switch to her if she learned, but Natalia didn¡¯t care. She skimmed the nameplates below each portrait as she passed, stopping briefly at Anastajia¡¯s to gape at the woman in armor, and then continued on. The woman defied superlatives. More noble than noble. More beautiful than beautiful. More regal than regal. She gazed out from where she stood with an imperious gaze. Silvery hair hung past her hips in slow waves. An older woman with wavy dark hair was standing there, looking up at the picture. ¡°She was really pissed when they painted this.¡± The woman observed knowingly to the little girl. ¡°How could you tell?¡± Natalia asked the stranger. ¡°When Kat got angry, royally angry, furiously angry, she let it grow cold in her chest. You can see it in the set of her eyes.¡± ¡°Did she- did she love me?¡± Natalia whispered. The woman let out a slow breath. ¡°When two people love each other so much they can¡¯t stand it, a baby is born.¡± The woman explained gently. ¡°And the two of them shower that child with as much love as they possibly can.¡± The girl looked up at the older lady. Somehow, she looked uncannily familiar. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be in the garden?¡± The woman asked, the subtext being more a command, and not a suggestion. Natalia was tall for her age, but not gangly. Her grandparents not only saw to her comprehensive education, they also saw she worked as hard as physically possible in fighting with swords and knives and feet and fists. Thin, but clean of limb with the characteristically pale skin and brilliant green eyes of a Pavlenko, she already cut an imposing figure. Like her grandparents had done with their daughters, Natalia¡¯s hair was allowed to grow unchecked, so the wavy black tresses tumbled to the small of her back. A young woman, a girl really, was in the garden already, examining the flowers. Natalia¡¯s eyes blazed, and she stamped her foot and drew her blade, levelling it at the girl. ¡°I am Doamna Natalia lon Pavlenko, and you are trespassing. Turn and face me.¡± The girl turned and smiled at her warmly. ¡°I am not trespassing, for I was invited.¡± The girl replied and then bobbed a curtsey. ¡°Sister.¡± Shock upon shock; the girl was a mirror image of her, and greeted her as elder sister. The blade fell from nerveless fingers, and Natalia sat down quickly on the grass, lest she faint. ¡°Who are you? She asked. ¡°I am Adalynn Wolfe.¡± She replied simply. ¡°Then we are not related.¡± Natalia replied, circulation returning with needlepricks across her skin. The girl sighed. ¡°It was difficult for me to understand when it was explained to me.¡± She began, ¡°But I will tell you what was told me, and perhaps it will make more sense to you, seeing as you¡¯re ¡®Doamna Natalia lon Pavlenko¡¯.¡± The girl began, a sarcastic lilt at Natalia¡¯s title. ¡°Your mother-¡± She paused a moment, and continued in a different tone of voice. ¡°And my mother loved each other. They-¡± She eyed Natalia again. ¡°How much do you know of your mother?¡± She asked. ¡°I know... how I was conceived.¡± She replied testily. Adalynn smiled. ¡°Our parents are the same. You were raised with the Pavlenkos, I with the Wolfes.¡± She explained. ¡°I have a sister?¡± She asked wonderingly. ¡°Yes, Elder Sister.¡± ¡°Both of you, come inside.¡± Grandmother Bianka called. ***** Two sets of identical green eyes glared at each other across the expansive table, each daring the other to yield, to give up. Even at ten years old, Natalia lon Pavlenko knew all about not giving in. ¡°Who is this woman?¡± She demanded of her grandmother. ¡°That is your sister, Adalynn.¡± Bianka replied, amused at the silent contest between the twins. ¡°Sister? I have a sister?¡± Natalia scoffed. If anything the announcement made Adalynn¡¯s small, secretive smile grow a little. ¡°You¡¯ll receive a proper explanation when you¡¯re an adult.¡± Another voice explained with a world-weary sort of acceptance. Both little girls frowned at the same time. ¡°Like looking into a mirror.¡± Bianka observed. The two little girls were exactly identical, with the exception of hair lengths. Natalia¡¯s hair was swept up into a glossy black ponytail; Adalynn¡¯s was a pair of short braids. ¡°LIke looking into the past.¡± the other voice replied a hitch of pain to her voice. ¡°They both look so much like her. Except the hair, of course.¡± the other voice added. After a long pause while the adults watched the two eye each other dangerously from across the table, Bianka irritably clapped her hands, jolting them out of their silent contest. ¡°The both of you, stop that. From today, you two will be living, sleeping, and eating together. Best get used to it.¡± Both girls broke their staring contest to look at their respective interlocutors. Olivia was on the cusp of middle age, glossy black hair swept back from her face with arranged combs. Bianka herself was much older, leaning ostentatiously on a cane near her chair. ¡°Natalia, take Adalynn to your apartments. You two will be sharing them for the next-¡± Bianka began, and Olivia interrupted. ¡°Five years?¡± She asked. ¡°Not this again. You people made me give up not one, but both of my daughters.¡± Bianka sneered. ¡°You expect me to do that again?¡± She spat, daring the other woman to object. Olivia sighed ostentatiously. It was an argument they¡¯d had many times over the years. ¡°The Preux is a proper Academia for nobility. It is nothing like what Her Radiance went through. Besides, both the von Wolfes and the lon Pavlenkos have estates there; she will not be alone.¡± Bianka let out a breath. ¡°You think I could let her go, with the situation here as I explained?¡± She asked sharply. ¡°You think I could let my only granddaughter-¡± ¡°The risks sending her to the Preux pale in comparison to the dangers here, and she will not be alone. Her Radiance left many allies in Darnell.¡± Bianka shook her head. ¡°The moment anyone catches wind- anyone! who her mother is, she will lose any capability to manage this household.¡± Olivia barked a laugh. ¡°Here, her parentage would paint a target on her back, in various ways.¡± Olivia replied smartly. ¡°There, however, it would be an inviolable aura, shielding her from harm.¡± ¡°My only granddaughter-¡± Bianka again began, but Olivia cut her off. ¡°She¡¯s not your only.¡± her gaze sliding to Adalynn, who had once again resumed glaring at Natalia. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°Oh? If we choose that route, are you perhaps prepared to surrender your own House banner to us?¡± Bianka replied jaggedly. Olivia sighed. She hated when Bianka was like this. Acid, cutting, overprotective to the point of outright viciousness. Not like her beloved at all. Help me, beloved. She prayed. Help me get this wretched woman to see reason. A tingling thrill shot through her. Wasn¡¯t I just as bad? A dry voice mocked gently, an undercurrent of love taking the sting away. Surrender your banner. It¡¯s a small thing, for such a boon. Sisters get to laugh, love, and play together until they¡¯re ready for the Academy. A knowing laugh followed this proclamation. Knowing you, you¡¯ll have already arranged it so that they would live and room together there as well? Of course you have. Bianka will honor the bargain struck... but perhaps you should have arrangements drawn up in a contract, no? Makes sense, anyway. She could never tell if the voice of her beloved was simply her overactive imagination or if she really was communicating on some level with the woman she had fallen in love with, so long ago. The House of Wolfes was- is- already on the decline, didn¡¯t you say so yourself? Announce our marriage, beloved, and unite your house with mine. You stand to lose nothing but your name, and what¡¯s in a name? I certainly never cared for such things. ¡°Bullshit.¡± Olivia growled, thinking of the time her lover stood in the High Court and had demanded demanded, of all things! That the Book of the Golden Lady address her as a Noble. ***** Natalia sat staring across the table at her grandmother and grandfather, green eyes narrowed. Outwardly, she tried to affect calm, inside her whole world was falling apart. There had been some tense negotiation between Olivia and Bianka that she had not been a part of, and Adalynn had been sent somewhere else. Despite having only meeting her for a couple of tense, mostly silent hours, her absence felt strange. ¡°I have a sister.¡± She repeated stiffly. Her grandmother, Boiyar Bianka lon Pavlenko, who sat at the Table of Merchants, head of the House of Pavlenko nodded. Her mouth trembled briefly; she clamped her lips tightly to stop it. ¡°To have a sister, I would have a mother.¡± She began dangerously. ¡°Obviously.¡± Her grandmother replied. ¡°You¡¯ve never told me about her.¡± Natalia replied. ¡°No matter how many times I¡¯ve asked.¡± ¡°Things have changed.¡± Bianka replied simply. ¡°The Wolfes are part of our family, now.¡± ¡°As if things weren¡¯t complicated enough.¡± Her grandfather muttered. ¡°I want to know of my mother.¡± Natalia demanded. Bianka let out a sigh and closed her eyes, and took her grandfather¡¯s hand. ¡°The Living Saint Katarina.¡± Rickard replied. ¡°She is your mother.¡± Natalia sagged in her chair, feeling faint. She lay her head on the cool table and struggled to keep her wits as they explained things. How Katarina fell in love with a Lady Cardinal- a woman, of all things!- and worked a miracle. Two girls were born that day. Natalia and Adalynn. Natalia was given to the Pavlenkos; Adalynn to the Wolfes. After long negotiations that spanned a dozen arguments and acres of contracts, Adalynn now would be considered a family member of the Pavlenkos, and the von Wolfes were now considered a branch family of the Pavlenkos by marriage. ***** ¡°These were your mother¡¯s apartments.¡± Bianka announced, leading Natalia and Adalynn into the suite of rooms. ¡°She didn¡¯t leave many belongings behind... but what she did leave behind is yours by right of blood, and by title, Doamna.¡± ¡°Grandmother, don¡¯t call me that.¡± Natalia urged. ¡°I have to. You need to get used to it. You¡¯re our first Grand Princess in hundreds of years. You need to carve the weight of that responsibility into your bones.¡± Bianka replied. ¡°Fine.¡± She finally spat, her anger growing hot in her chest. Bianka gestured at the divan. Natalia shot a hot look at Bianka, who winced- that look was just like her mother¡¯s. ¡°Your mother...¡± She paused. ¡°We wanted to keep you safe.¡± She began in a soothing voice. ¡°She knew the child of an Apostle of the Golden Lady could be singled out. Targeted. Exploited. So you were brought to us to keep you safe.¡± Natalia let out a slow breath of amazement. She¡¯d had no idea, even in her wildest dreams. Her mother was really the first Doamna, by right of title. Her mother was beyond a Doamna. An Apostle of the Golden Lady. A Living Saint, a Servant of the Goddess. Natalia rubbed her face wearily. ¡°Today has been ... very surprising.¡± She looked up at Bianka. ¡°Bunica, may I have some time to think about these things?¡± Bianka eyed Natalia and Adalynn, who were starting to eye each other like a pair of strange cats again. ¡°I¡¯ll have someone send for you at supper.¡± She decided, and left the apartments, closing the large double doors behind her. Natalai focused her attention on Adalynn. ¡°So. We¡¯re sisters.¡± She remarked, her voice flat. ¡°It seems so, Doamna.¡± Adalynn replied respectfully. ¡°Don¡¯t call me that.¡± Natalia immediately fired back. Adalynn thought for a moment. ¡°Elder Sister?¡± She offered. Natalia immediately frowned. ¡°No.¡± She stated flatly. ¡°I am Natalia. I will call you Adalynn; you can call me Natalia.¡± Adalynn adopted a thoughtful look. ¡°I paid attention to some of the talks between your grandmother and my... mother...¡± She rubbed her head a bit. ¡°This is very confusing, to have two mothers from separate houses.¡± Natalia nodded. It was, indeed. ¡°I think that in public I will have to call you Elder Sister. Do you mind?¡± Adalynn offered. Natalia rubbed her face as she thought. ¡°As long as we address each other by name here... I don¡¯t mind.¡± She decided, and held out her hand. ¡°Come tell me about yourself, Adalynn.¡± ¡°Awaken.¡± Natalia¡¯s eyes snapped open of their own accord. ¡°Sit up, and pay attention.¡± The voice was cool, calm, and authoritative to a fault. Natalia¡¯s vision cleared and her mouth trembled. The woman in front of her was radiant. Glorious to a fault. ¡°So you¡¯re my daughter.¡± Katarina mused. ¡°I wanted to come here and see you, but if I had showed up there would have been a scene.¡± She paused. ¡°You understand?¡± She asked in a gentler voice, and Natalia nodded and began prodding Adalynn. ¡°Lemme lone.¡± Was all she mumbled. ¡°Don¡¯t wake her.¡± Katarina urged, but Natalia only poked harder. Adalynn sat up, rubbing her eyes. ¡°What do you want?¡± She complained. ¡°I want to sleep.¡± ¡°It¡¯s mother,¡± Natalia replied, and turned to the awestruck angel. ¡°I thought that if there was something important for me to hear, she needed to hear it, too.¡± ¡°Twins.¡± Katarina mused, and shook her head, smiling. ¡°We¡¯re twins?¡± Natalia¡¯s eyes flashed. ¡°No!¡± Adalynn blurted. ¡°Olivia is my mother. Blessed Katarina is your mother.¡± She explained. Katarina knew that wasn¡¯t true. She hadn¡¯t given birth to anyone. Was that a cover story to protect them? She skimmed their thoughts and found her musings correct. ¡°Okay, you two. I¡¯m going to give you advice that served me well.¡± She began, and they immediately stiffened to attention. ¡°Train ten times harder than anyone else. Be faster than anyone else. Be smarter than anyone else.¡± She paused. ¡°Trust your instincts. And if I catch either of you disrespecting Olivia in any way, I will punish you in ways your ten-year-old minds can¡¯t even dream of.¡± And then she was gone in a shower of golden sparks. ***** Natalia was ten years old. She was a beautiful girl, straight of limb, with flashing green eyes and a tumble of raven¡¯s wing hair that fell to the middle of her back. ¡°Pavlenkos do not cut their hair.¡± Her bunica, her grandmother declared. ¡°Especially the Doamna. Everyone needs to see you.¡± She didn¡¯t completely understand everything her grandmother said, and there was a sneaking suspicion that not everything was said. For one, they had an inordinate number of bizarre visitors, all who claimed to want to see her. Her! She was only ten years old, not old enough to be considered an adult in any land. One old woman, dressed in a strange suit of thin steel plates that contoured to her body snugly, visited her one afternoon. The woman did nothing but stare at her with raptor¡¯s eyes, assessing, weighing. ¡°Doamna Natalia lon Pavlenko.¡± The woman began as if it were a statement, not a greeting. The woman sneered at her cynically. ¡°You look so much like her.¡± Her hard grin softened. ¡°She would be proud.¡± Natalia struggled with her words. The woman was disrespectful, rude, arrogant, and spoke in ambiguous terms. Further, she came armored to her presence. ¡°You should have been told,¡± Natalia began, ¡°that it is forbidden to come armed and armored in my presence.¡± She began in a breathy voice. The woman nodded at that. Comfortably. Contemptuously. ¡°I beg your indulgence, Natalia.¡± The woman replied simply, with an indifferent gesture. ¡°The armor is the only thing holding my body together.¡± Natalia gave her a baffled look. ¡°The price of being an Inquisitor for so long.¡± The woman replied. ¡°It catches up to you.¡± She waved this away as if it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°The point of this visit was to see you, and I have.¡± She announced. ¡°I am satisfied. She would be proud. There is no need for me to correct you.¡± ¡°You-?¡± Natalia spat, her voice clogged with anger and shock. ¡°Correct me?¡± The woman nodded, gave her an indifferent wave, and stiff-backed, marched towards the door. ¡°Oh, a giant of a woman may want to see you.¡± The woman tossed over her shoulder. ¡°Be kind to her and she will be kind to you.¡± ***** Natalia knew she shouldn¡¯t be out of bed. It went beyond her grandparents¡¯ wishes that she get a full and restful night¡¯s sleep, or at least let her Paia, her governess, get a full night¡¯s sleep. If Natalia was awake, then by rights her Governess needed to be awake, as well as her Stolnic, her seneschal, and a hundred troops to guarantee her safety. The Pavlenko estate was divided into two factions; one belonging to her bunica, her grandmother Bianka, and the other belonging to the Judes and Cneaz under the leadership of the High Ladies Catalina and Eveline. It never quite came to blows, but that¡¯s why the troops were needful; to prevent just such a violent conflict. She shouldn¡¯t have been out of bed, she shouldn¡¯t have left her apartments without an appropriate escort, yet she did so anyway. Come the morning it would be her sixteenth birthday, and formally invested with her blood-title. Despite the hostility in the estate, the occasional poisoning, She strode through the halls easily, comfortably. ¡°-if she¡¯s got the slightest wit in her head, she¡¯ll call for the heads of those traitorous-¡± She overheard her grandmother just around the corner. Natalia ducked behind the edge of a tapestry and froze, hoping she hadn¡¯t been spotted as her grandmother and grandfather rounded the corner and walked away from her. Her heart thundering in her chest obliterated all but part of her grandfather¡¯s reply. ¡°-our daughter-¡± She strained for more, but they had moved out of range. She hesitated, torn between trailing after them and returning to her apartments. That was too close. ¡°High Lady.¡± A gravelly voice piped up behind her, and a heavy hand descended on her shoulder. She opened her mouth to scream and the man¡¯s other hand clamped down with an iron grip on her mouth. ¡°Shush, else you call down your bunica¡¯s wrath upon us both.¡± The voice whispered in her ear. Natalia turned her head. A man in the livery of a guard, part of the Cneaz faction under the High Ladies Catalina and Eveline. Baurus. ¡°No screams.¡± He whispered, and she nodded, and he took his hand away. As he did, she couldn¡¯t help but note the long dagger at his waist. Suddenly it all became crystal clear to her. Tomorrow she would be formally invested with her title as the head of House Pavlenko. Tomorrow she would face the full enmity of the Old Blood faction from Ardeal. She was out from under the constant supervision of anyone who could protect her. Tomorrow she would be technically untouchable, but tonight, she was just a girl. This was it. It was over for her. She¡¯d feel his knife dig into her heart in just a moment, and her grandparents would- her whole house would- everything would-. ¡°High Lady, you need to return to your apartments.¡± Baurus advised gently. ¡°And quickly. There¡¯s villainy afoot.¡± Her mouth opened and closed. ¡°Wha-¡± She scarcely began, but he cut her off. ¡°There are some that hunt you tonight.¡± He replied to her unasked question, and lifted the long knife out of the sheathe a little and let it drop. ¡°Tomorrow, everything changes for you, isn¡¯t that so?¡± She nodded numbly. ¡°I can¡¯t protect you openly.¡± He urged. ¡°They think- well, it doesn¡¯t matter what they think, but I need to keep up appearances.¡± She frowned at that, not understanding him at all. ¡°When you do that, you look just like her.¡± He marveled, and touched her forehead, right between her eyebrows with a fingertip. ¡°Who?¡± She whispered. ¡°Your mother, of course.¡± He replied easily, dropping a shocking truth on her as if it were a simple thing. Nobody spoke about her mother in front of her. It was all a tightfisted secret. ¡°Now listen: You run back to your apartments. Hopefully you get back nice and safe. If we¡¯re caught, I¡¯ll have to kill you, to keep up appearances.¡± Another shocking, unbelievable truth, just like that. ¡°I don¡¯t want to, but if I absolutely have to, I will.¡± She glanced up at her interlocutor, but in the dim light of the hall she couldn¡¯t make out his expression. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying for years to get in their good graces, to get close enough to-¡± He cut himself off, and gave Natalia a little nudge back down the hall, towards her apartments. ¡°You¡¯d kill me? Just like that?¡± She blurted. He nodded. ¡°If it got me close enough to Eveline and Catalina, sure. Those two need a taste of what Victoria got. I¡¯d rather not have to kill you, though.¡± ¡°Right.¡± She replied drily. ¡°I am on your side, but only because you¡¯re my best hope of getting rid of those squalling High Ladies.¡± He replied. ¡°And because your mother would have wanted it that way. She spared my life; I¡¯ll use it to protect her daughter.¡± He paused. ¡°Even if it means killing her.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense at all.¡± She spat at him, and he chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to get close to them for years. They know me too well, though.¡± The Final Solution The stone hallway opened up into a massive hexagonal chamber, the walls crafted from some deeply polished blue stone. Konstantin eyed the room from the doorway; row after row of strange script in gold inlays were carved in each wall. The floor descended in the middle of the room, and then humped up at the center of the room with a raised hexagonal dias. At each point of the dias was a clear crystal as big around as Konstantin¡¯s arm and taller than he was. The air hummed with power around them, and tiny arcs of energy crackled in the air and along the walls. He crouched slowly, and examined the floor. All the way through the tunnel that led down to this infernal mountain there was dirt, dust, mud, whatever; here the floor was clean and polished, and seemingly comprised of the same material as the walls and ceiling. He touched it with his fingertip. Was the entire room polished lapis lazuli? How was the room cleaned? He was about to invoke the magical senses he shared with Sirra and caught himself. The amount of magical power that flowed through the mountain was staggering; to engage his senses here was to have them burn out from overload. He stepped into the room from the doorway, and made a slow circuit of the walls. The gold inlay was script. Massive blocks of script; row after row of text in squarish, blocky runes, none of which he understood. Was it an instruction manual? Warnings? He started looking for patterns, some coherence that could be understood, some meaning beyond language that he could grasp, and slowly traversed the room, looking at each character in each line, forcing himself to see them without his eyes glazing over. it was a shame that Sirra wasn¡¯t conscious. As they had moved through the rooms and tunnels she¡¯d become more and more unstable, weeping constantly and biting her fingers. He¡¯d had to pinch the sides of her neck and knock her out before he could continue on. Her fear and terror were palpable. He wondered if she would be all right. He set her down, her back against the wall, and touched her face. She¡¯d followed him diligently for years. There was that point where she thought him dead and tried to run away of course, but that was beyond either of their control. She opened her eyes groggily. ¡°Ignore your magical senses, Sirra.¡± He cautioned. ¡°They¡¯ll drive you insane.¡± she took a ragged breath, and then let it out. ¡°It¡¯s so hard to ignore them, Konstantin.¡± She whispered. Since he¡¯d rescinded his command that she never speak, she seemed only able to speak barely above a whisper. He nodded. ¡°I know.¡± Fixing his eyes on hers, he pointed to the wall she rested against. ¡°Can you recognize that, Sirra?¡± He asked. She turned her head, and nodded slowly, hesitantly. ¡°Of course. Elemental rune script.¡± She whispered. ¡°We use certain symbols to empower elemental magic.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it used as a language before.¡± He raised his eyebrows. ¡°You can¡¯t translate it?¡± She shrugged. ¡°An elemental rune can have many meanings, Konstantin.¡± She finally said, a touch of condescension in her voice. She pointed at one. ¡°Take this symbol here." She whispered, and picked one out that seemed like a straight vertical slash with a diagonal notch on the right side. "This is laguz. It can mean many things. Pick one for me, will you?" She asked, took a breath, and began listing. ¡°Flow, water, sea, a fertility source, the healing power of renewal. Life energy and organic growth. mental empowerment. Dreams, fantasies, mysteries, the unknown, the hidden, the deep, the cycle of death and renewal. Fear, circular motion, avoidance, withering. Madness, obsession, despair, perversity, sickness, suicide." She paused. "Those are the magical meanings. For divination, it can also mean success in travel or acquisition, but with the possibility of loss. An indication of a period of confusion in your life. You may be making wrong decisions and poor judgements. Lack of creativity and feelings of being in a rut.¡± She smiled a little. ¡°A ¡®simple translation¡¯ could take fifty lifetimes.¡± He frowned at her, and shook his head. ¡°Then how do you use them for spells if they can mean... anything at all?¡± He asked, and she touched his hand lightly. ¡°There are contextual clues, things like alignment, cardinal directions, matching runes with similar meanings. Things like that.¡± She smiled up at him. ¡°We don¡¯t use it as a language. It¡¯s impossible.¡± She finished, and pushed herself to a standing position. ¡°Must I translate everything?¡± She asked. He shook his head. ¡°If we could translate it realistically... I would say that we had to, but from what you¡¯ve described... I don¡¯t think we can.¡± he let out a sigh. ¡°Why try?¡± Sirra asked him curiously. He pointed at the woman that hovered in the air over the central dias. ¡°I think she¡¯s what we came here for.¡± He replied. ¡°But I need to be careful. I...¡± He stopped, and his hand lowered. ¡°I can¡¯t really deny it any longer. I came here to find a weapon.¡± he finally admitted. ¡°But if it¡¯s her, if she has the weapon, or if somehow she is the weapon... then I have to know as much as I can about her before I act.¡± Sirra nodded. It was his way to be thorough and analytical. In fact, it could be said that his thorough, analytical nature had led him down this path in the first place. ***** "The true gods are both agreeable and convenient, and are eager to lend their aid to any who pray. And why not? Faith is important, after all. But power comes with a price, and the one coin we have is the most precious of all." "The Goddess watches over us all, you heretic!" A man shouted from the crowd. Konstantin nodded, confident. He''d answered this argument before. "Have we not been told by the pastors that the gods watch over us as the shepherd watches over his flock? Yes, this is true. A shepherd will lead his flock to green pastures that they may flourish. But the shepherd is hungry. What prayers can the ewe make when the shepherd takes the lamb for his stew? The gods are hungry my friends, and the milk of our faith is simply not enough. What they desire most is the meat of our souls. The Gods are hungry, and every prayer you make lowers you just a little bit more into the pot." ***** He moved towards the central dias. Between the six central pillars lay a beautiful woman, draped in ancient, rotting clothing, seemingly suspended or perhaps floating in midair. Her hands were folded at her belly and she appeared to be asleep. Her hair was a lustrous, silvery white, like cornsilk or mother of pearl. She had long elf-like ears and incongruently, a pair of what looked to be metal antlers just above the ears. they swept back, following the line of her ear and forked into two tines. He touched her shoulder; her eyes remained closed. ¡°How do we wake her?¡± He asked. Sirra shook her head. ***** He reached the crystalline spire near his hand. there didn¡¯t seem to be a purpose to them. they floated in the air, tapered to long, delicate and razor-sharp points on either side. He touched the crystal, and a feeling like a strong vibration resonated and sunk into his palm, and then faded. The crystal cycled through the prismatic colors of the rainbow, and then settled into an off-white color, dimmer than it was. ¡°Konstantin, look.¡± Sirra whispered urgently. The other spires cycled through different pastel colors subtly, but the one directly opposite included the creamy color this pillar exhibited. ¡°Like a combination lock.¡± He mentioned, and pulled out his ubiquitous notebook, and jotted down what he¡¯d observed. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. He moved to each crystal and noted the colors they cycled through and in which order. Once he reached the crystal opposite the one he¡¯d touched, he placed his hand on it. There was another strong vibration that sank into his palm. his palm tingled, and little prickles seemed to dance on his fingertips. Both crystals flashed a sickly green for a moment and then faded to a neutral off-white. ¡°Green.¡± he affirmed, and Sirra nodded. He pulled out his notebook and examined the pillars. The patterns changed, so he noted down the color sequences again, and found a pillar that flashed green. He put his hand on it, and took in a sharp breath as a thousand needles stabbed themselves into his palm. He took his hand away and clutched it at the wrist, but his hand was uninjured. He flexed it a few times carefully. He glanced at the pillar, and it was cycling through several colors. ¡°it flashed a pale pink.¡± Sirra spoke up helpfully. He nodded gratefully. ¡°Thanks.¡± he said, and moved to the one opposite, and gingerly placed his hand on it. It was like being stung by a thousand hellwasps. He bit back a scream as the pillar flashed pink along with its opposing twin. ¡°One pair left.¡± He panted. ¡°Are you sure you want to continue, Konstantin?¡± Sirra whispered at him. ¡°I felt that through our bond.¡± He shook his head, blinking back tears. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But there¡¯s only one pair left.¡± he gasped. ¡°Any more than that may kill you.¡± Sirra replied, alarmed. If he died, she would die, she knew. ¡°I can endure.¡± He replied, and rose to his feet. The next pillar was hot, rusty nails that forced themselves through the delicate, sensitive places in his hand, while jagged shards of broken glass seemed to shred whatever was left. Silvery threads of power, tinged with blue and pink wisps, seemed to descend upon the floating girl, settling into her skin. He drew a ragged breath and turned to Sirra, only to discover she¡¯d passed out in reaction to the pain. He smiled a little at her, and then moved on to the last pillar. The pain was unbelievable. indescribable. It went beyond the deep, rusty pain of wounds that gouged deep; it went beyond the high, brittle pain of cuts, the searing agony of fire, the bone-numbing cold of ice. His whole arm felt like it was set afire, doused in acid, cut, stabbed, gouged, flayed. It went beyond pain. His bowels felt hot and loose, his consciousness seemed to be drifting away. Dimly, he was aware of the girl sitting up, and scooting off the spot where she lay as if it were a bed. He let go of the pillar and struggled to maintain his grip on consciousness. She stared up vacantly at the ceiling for a time, and then looked around the room. "The Weaver is not here." She stated, and then sighed. She looked over at Konstantin. ¡°Who are you, that you should wake me from my sleep?¡± She asked, voice calm and without inflection. Her voice had a strange timbre to it, as if it echoed hollowly in her breast. Konstantin flexed his hand repeatedly, willing the pain away. He tried to force himself to his feet but discovered he couldn¡¯t. ¡°Konstantin lon Pavlenko.¡± He gasped out. She moved towards him slowly, pieces of her outfit flaking with each step. She was pale, so pale. There was a tinkling sound that seemed to come from somewhere; the sound of fine silver bells. She squatted slowly next to him, and he looked up into her face. He recoiled in horror. Her eyes were a nauseating swirl of pink and blue shapes that swam and eddied without pupils, irises, or whites, yet he knew instinctively she was looking at him. Her touch on his arm was light, her fingers cool. ¡°Do you require assistance, Master?¡± She asked, and he nodded. Down on his knees as he was, he noticed a shackle on her right leg, a couple of links dangling from the manacle. Tight neat rows of tiny runes inscribed its surface. He reached out to touch it. ¡°No.¡± She stated, and he glanced up at her. She was looking down at him, face blank. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± He stated. She said nothing. He sighed, and moved to stand. Her hand encircled his elbow, and with surprising strength lifted him to his feet easily. ¡°What are you?¡± He asked cautiously. ¡°I am a weapon.¡± ¡°Are you a construct, then?¡± he asked, and she nodded. ¡°So... you¡¯re a golem, then.¡± She nodded again. He reached out and cautiously touched her breast through the rotted clothing she wore. Some of the fabric disintegrated at his touch. Her flesh had the same give as you would expect any flesh, though hers was cool to the touch. ¡°Are you truly artificial?¡± he wondered. ¡°Yes.¡± She replied. ¡°I think you¡¯re going to need new clothes.¡± He remarked. ¡°If my Master wishes it.¡± She replied dismissively. ¡°Would you prefer clothing?¡± he asked curiously. ¡°My previous master felt it was necessary.¡± She replied. ¡°You have no modesty?¡± He asked. ¡°I am a weapon.¡± She replied flatly. ¡°I ask this of you, my Master: When the task for which you have awoken me for is complete, will you return me to my cradle, so that I may once again sleep?¡± It was perhaps the first thing she had said with any independence or self-concern. He regarded her as he carefully weighed his answer. She was of a height with Sirra, and seemed to have traits that stemmed from the various races that comprised Aggenmor: her height and stature hinted at orcish heritage, and yet her face and ears were elvish, or perhaps Yamato. She had high, aristocratic cheekbones and a shapely mouth, but her eyes were that unpleasant nausea-inducing swirl of pink and blue that moved and shifted seemingly without rhyme. He was reminded of her artificial nature, though. traceries of silvery metal ran down her neck in organized and complicated mazes, across her collarbones and disappearing into her clothing, which was rotted from age. She had two sinuous antlers coming from above her ears, seemingly comprised of the metal that made up the tracings on her neck, chest, and arms. His mouth twisted. He sighed. ¡°I did not answer your question.¡± ¡°No.¡± She acknowledged. ¡°Do you wish to sleep?¡± He asked. He felt her gaze on him. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Why?¡± He asked. ¡°I prefer it.¡± She replied. He smiled. ¡°So you have preferences! That¡¯s good. That¡¯s very good. I¡¯d like to discuss them with you.¡± Her head turned, she looked at him. ¡°Why?¡± He blinked a couple of times. ¡°I think it would help.¡± He replied. ¡°you know, make things ... smoother.¡± ¡°What is my target?¡± She asked. He hesitated. He didn¡¯t want to say it. He knew he had no choice. He could not wake her without a target. For a moment he idly considered giving her some smaller target, the Grand bloody Cardinal of Darnell, perhaps. No, he couldn¡¯t. He knew what needed to be done. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. He opened his eyes. ¡°The Goddess Inanna.¡± He stated. Her face remained blank. the shapes in her eyes moved and flowed together and apart in unpleasant ways. ¡°I am not equipped for interplanar travel.¡± she finally said. He let out a breath he did not realize he was holding. ¡°We intended to fight her here.¡± he said. ¡°You would have to summon her here from her home plane.¡± she remarked dismissively. He nodded. She looked at him, and her eyes narrowed. ¡°You serve her.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I did. I used to. I can¡¯t, not anymore. I reject her.¡± ¡°If you no longer accept her, how do you intend to summon her?¡± She asked. ¡°Well... that¡¯s where you come in, actually. We believe that if we destroy enough of her temples and kill enough of her clergy...¡± ¡°She will appear in this plane to take her vengeance.¡± she completed for him. He nodded. ¡°This is acceptable to me.¡± She replied. ¡°However, be aware that when she arrives in this plane, she will only be a fragment of her true self, a fraction of her true power. She would not risk everything.¡± ¡°I hadn¡¯t considered that.¡± He remarked. ¡°Will you have a problem fighting her?¡± She shook her head. ¡°I am a weapon.¡± He slowly helped Sirra up and patted her face gently until she was awake. ¡°Konstantin.¡± She whispered. ¡°I was sure you had died.¡± He shook his head slowly. ¡°No, not dead. You got off lucky, passing out like you did.¡± He remarked wryly, and pointed to the golem. ¡°Shit.¡± Sirra gasped. ***** The hall seemed safer than the way he came in. The way in was filled with tripwires, traps, and was almost impassible. The hallway he¡¯d started down was empty, and well illuminated. Suddenly, from the walls, floor, and ceiling, all directions at once, a storm of brilliant lightning, and a roar of thunder that was so cacophonic it threatened to split his eardrums erupted in that hallway. He fell to his knees, screaming from the noise. All at once, the cannonade of thunder vanished, replaced by silence so quickly that he doubted his ears, which still rang. ¡°Nothing living may pass.¡± The golem stated hollowly. He gestured to the hall again. ¡°I have an antimagic field. It might suffice-¡± He started, and she cut him off. ¡°It will not.¡± She replied. ¡°Do we head back the way we came?¡± He asked. She looked up. He followed her gaze. The ceiling was no longer lapis lazuli; instead it was some fantastic rainbow-hued crystal, and the light that filtered through was multihued, fractured into individual colors. ¡°We may fly out.¡± She replied. She raised her hand at waist level, and a staff appeared in her hand. It was lavishly constructed with silvery metals in angular patterns. It, like her manacle, was covered in tight rows of tiny runic script. Tiny blue flecks of energy flowed down the metallic traces in her body to the staff, flowing into the runes on the staff. segments of the runic text blinked on and off in a indecipherable pattern, and the crystal ceiling retracted from a central point, creating a shaft to the surface. ***** ¡°What should I call you?¡± he asked as they sat next to the fire. ¡°Whatever pleases you.¡± ¡°No, I meant, what is your name?¡± ¡°What name would you wish me to have?¡± She asked. ¡°The one you own as yours.¡± ¡°I have many names.¡± ¡°How many are epithets?¡± He asked, amused. ¡°Almost all.¡± She replied blandly. ¡°Which ones aren¡¯t?¡± He asked. Moriko at the Ancient Pine 1 The dream came to her as she slept. A nation burned itself to ashes all around her. A city so huge it would take days to cross on horseback blazed with the fury of a relentless inferno while she and her party rode through the streets. A giant, a monster, prowled restlessly by her side, easily keeping up with her horse. The woman herself had a cold, imperious beauty. A spray of gold-and-red scales glimmered like miniscule jewels from her temples and a pair of horns sprouted from her temples and swept backwards along her skull. ¡°I warned them.¡± She muttered coldly to no one. Her dress was in a strange and unfamiliar cut, layered silks that seemed to shimmer in the flames. Her eyes widened for a moment as something grotesque and hunched scuttled across her procession. The hunched thing eyed the woman with reptilian eyes, and a jet of flame spurted from its lips. ¡°You should know who is the stronger between us. Begone.¡± She commanded coldly, her flame-colored eyes, slit like a reptiles¡¯, gleamed. The unspeakable thing scuttled away without looking back. ***** Moriko awoke from her strange dream feeling nauseous, belly cramped, her body drenched with sweat. She didn¡¯t often have such vivid dreams, certainly not as vivid and terrifying as that one had been. The people she¡¯d seen were unlike any people she¡¯d seen entering and leaving the Shrine. Even though there was nothing that tethered it to reality, she nevertheless spent some time looking at the ceiling, the walls, the carefully arranged furniture, the clothing rack with her kimono and hakama folded neatly across the rods as if to remind herself of what was real. She tossed back the bedcovers and grimaced as she tried to roll out of bed. On the day that Moriko woke up to the advent of her menarche, the first thing she did was bathe. The land around the Shrine of the Ancient Pine was blessed with mountain springs, some of which were naturally hot, so the bath soothed her cramps and sluiced away the blood. Her bedding- well, she would deal with that after her bath. Some of the girls- plenty of them, in fact- often shrieked at the sight of their menses. They didn¡¯t understand what it meant, panic would win over reason. Moriko herself had heard the calm, clinical and somewhat poetic explanation countless times; that nothing bad had happened, they had simply moved into a new phase of their lives, and were given a long and rather lengthy list of things that they could expect to happen to their bodies. Moriko had heard it all before, so many times before, and so while the spreading red patch in her nightclothes was upsetting and somewhat disgusting, she calmly and immediately went to the baths. Acolytes were given a choice whether or not they would like to leave the shrine, or take the next step and commit to the path of the Shrine Maiden. For some, a shrine was a short refuge. For others, a sanctuary to avoid a political scandal. For others still it was an orphanage, but for all of these people the shrine was a place of exercise, training, meditation, and education. There were those others, however, that the shrine was much more. It wasn¡¯t simply a brief sojourn on their life¡¯s path; it was in fact the whole of their life. As far as Moriko was concerned, there was no choice- she wanted to be a Shrine Maiden. She would take her vows and dedicate herself to a life that revolved wholly around the Shrines. Moriko herself had been given to the Shrines at birth. Some families who could not afford another mouth to feed did this. Some families donated a child per generation as a sign of respect to the system of shrines that covered the known world. She¡¯d been raised in the shrine; first in the Yamato homeland itself, and then sent to the Ancient Pine. She didn¡¯t much like the preferential treatment she received; she had been raised in the Shrines and so she should have been treated in the exact same way as the other acolytes, but there was always a hint of deference. Rules were bent to accommodate her. What was supposed to be a harmonious sorority had instead become a battleground of competing ideals; Moriko was different so she should be treated differently, and the resentment that came from others because they didn¡¯t receive the same amount of flexibility. Moriko had been made to understand why she was treated differently, but she didn¡¯t want to have anything to do with that. She wanted to be a Shrine Maiden, she wanted to be treated equally, fairly, and as harshly as all the others that she lived with. As far as she was concerned, there was no point in the preferential treatment she received; there had never been any contact or communication from the family that had birthed her- and then summarily abandoned her on the steps of the Imperial Shrine. ***** After her bath and prayers, she called for a Shrine Maiden and calmly announced that she was ready to begin the next phase of her training. The Shrine Maiden had given her a complicated look; the older woman was used to screams, crying, confusion. Moriko¡¯s composed, almost indifferent attitude was unusual amongst the Acolytes. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Although she¡¯d just bathed, she was told that she would need to undergo a ritual of purification, after which she would be required to attend a meeting with the Shrine Priestesses. That upset her; usually the meeting to determine if she was ready to ascend the ranks to the Shrine Maidens would be held before a tribunal of the senior Shrine Maidens, and generally had nothing at all to do with the Shrine Priestesses. The irritation flashed within her again, a hot flare in her chest that seemed to set her heart on fire; she quenched her temper, though she could not help but nurse the embers. After her bath, there was a certain noise, a sense of commotion outside. Moriko scrambled into her clothing and raced out into the sunlight of the training yard. There was a woman standing in the yard, arms folded confidently across her chest. She was dressed in the garb of a Shrine Priestess, yet carried two swords. She was clearly human, with her preposterous height, arrogant tilt of her head, and the truly staggering mane of wild, red-gold hair that tumbled down her shoulders, back, and hips like a molten avalanche of flame. She eyed the scrambling Maidens and Acolytes with casual contempt, the arrogance was plain on her face. For the briefest second her eyes met Moriko¡¯s and the girl¡¯s heart leaped in her chest. Moriko stepped back involuntarily from that imperious gaze, and then stubbornly, she took a step forward. The woman never stopped eyeing the Maidens and Acolytes, her head moving, her hair dancing like a furious blaze. For some inexplicable reason nobody dared approach the woman. What was that about? People of various stations and trades often visited the Shrines. Traders, soldiers, nobles, farmers, the rich and the poor, the weak and the strong, they all visited the Shrines for trade, advice, counsel, information, wisdom. Shrines curated history, mapped the area, carried information that might normally be overlooked or ignored, grew medicinal plants, purified corruption, and stood as a bulwark between unknown chaos and known reality. Usually an acolyte at the gates would guide visitors to the Shrine Priestesses so that they could tend to their business, whatever it might have been. Why hadn¡¯t the Acolytes or Maidens done the same with this woman? She clearly was dressed as a Priestess, shouldn¡¯t she have been guided to the Priestesses of the Ancient Pine? Moriko¡¯s belly cramped fiercely, and sweat stood out on her brow. Honestly, she didn¡¯t feel very good. She wasn¡¯t sure what could be done about the dull, cramping ache in her guts that radiated throughout her body; standing, sitting, and laying down didn¡¯t seem to alleviate the pain at all. Perhaps there was some sort of medicine she could take, but so far she hadn¡¯t received any. Still, despite the pain, the fever, and the growing headache that throbbed in her skull, she would see to her duty. She stepped forward to greet the unfamiliar Shrine Priestess. ¡°Oh? At least one of you is interesting.¡± The woman remarked in a voice that was layered with complexity. Moriko¡¯s stomach cramped as she approached the tall woman. The woman had to be at least six feet tall, perhaps more. She seemed to tower over everyone, even the other human acolytes and maidens. ¡°Is there something we can help you with, Shrine Priestess?¡± Moriko asked the taller woman. ¡°Probably.¡± was the woman¡¯s response, and then took a knee in front of Moriko, lowering herself a bit to the Acolyte¡¯s height. ¡°You reek of blood, Acolyte.¡± She offered in a low voice, and Moriko grimaced. The woman chuckled. ¡°What Shrine are you from?¡± Moriko asked curiously. ¡°My temple was lost a long time before you were born, Acolyte. You needn¡¯t worry about that. Where are your Priestesses?¡± ¡°They should likely be on their way to greet you now.¡± Moriko replied. The woman¡¯s temple was lost? Shrines were lost from time to time. There were no temples. ¡°You hurt?¡± The woman asked curiously. Her eyes were dancing flames, her mouth was full of brilliant teeth that gleamed. ¡°Cramps.¡± Moriko involuntarily complained, and the woman laughed. She reached for her belt and pulled out a bottle, which she indifferently pushed into Moriko¡¯s hands. She reached into her sleeve and withdrew a tiny cup, the kind that was typically used for sampling sake. She took the bottle back from Moriko, thumbed off the cork, and poured a sip of liquid into the tiny cup and offered it to Moriko. ¡°Trust me, little one, it will help.¡± She offered, pushing the cup towards Moriko¡¯s hands. Moriko looked a question at the woman. Wasn¡¯t alcohol forbidden to Acolytes and Maidens? ¡°Am I not a Priestess?¡± The woman inquired, and gestured to cup. ¡°You have permission, little one. Drink.¡± She held out a tiny shallow saucer with what looked to be water. Traces of red swirled in the liquid, and the pungent scent of liquor assaulted Moriko¡¯s nostrils. Moriko took the saucer, holding it with her fingertips, and looked to the woman curiously, who nodded. ¡°A gift: a taste of your homeland for you.¡± Moriko took the sip of sake and nearly choked as the potent alcohol raced down her throat and the vapors rushed into her sinuses. Suddenly unsteady on her feet, she sat down abruptly, all the strength gone from her limbs. ¡°I am Kayelinth... and I am very interested in what you will do, Acolyte. I will be watching, so try not to disappoint me.¡± The Shrine Priestess took the cup and bottle and rose to her feet and eyed the other acolytes and maidens, shifted her swords, and turned towards the Ancient Pine. She gave the tree a small, mocking smile, and greeted the trio of Shrine Priestesses that had finally reached the central yard. The priestesses eyed Moriko sitting in the yard, legs akimbo. ¡°What are you doing, Acolyte? Find your feet.¡± They admonished her. ¡°Remember kindness.¡± The Priestess that had introduced herself as ¡®Kayelinth¡¯ admonished them. ¡°Out of all the Maidens and Acolytes, she alone approached me.¡± She began. ¡°I would like to discuss some things with you...¡± She seemed to sweep them up and herd them towards where the Shrine Priestesses conducted their affairs. Moriko at the Ancient Pine 2 It was easy to understand why the acolytes and the maidens refused to approach the Shrine Priestess. She radiated an intense aura of dread and menace, as if a brutal and terrifying monster was sitting before them, a single hairsbreadth away from swift, terrifying violence. It was difficult for even the Shrine Priestesses of the Ancient Pine to maintain their composure in front of Kayelinth. ¡°Your arrival was unexpected.¡± The Eldest offered, willing her hand to not tremble as she set her teacup down. ¡°Ah.¡± Kayelinth replied. Her voice was rich and comfortable, casual even. It was if the waves of overwhelming terror and unrelenting fury that broadcast themselves from her didn¡¯t exist at all. ¡°I haven¡¯t visited a Shrine in some time.¡± The Eldest struggled to put a frown of confusion on her face. ¡°What Shrine do you belong to?¡± Kayelinth chuckled at that and twirled the simple clay teacup on her fingers, walked it across her knuckles, and then snatched it into her palm before it could fall. Her reflexes were impressive. She set the empty cup down on the table and knocked it over with a fingertip. ¡°It¡¯s gone. There is no one there that remembers my name.¡± Her voice was layered with complexity; wry acceptance, melancholy, sadness, bitterness, dry humor. Kayelinth stretched so suddenly, hands over her head, that the Shrine Priestesses involuntarily recoiled. ¡°I was last at the Shrine of the Mountain Spider. She¡¯s a timid one.¡± ¡°The Mountain Spider has ever been a timid one. Her anxiety springs from being associated with The Queen of Spiders.¡± The Eldest replied. ¡°But you have not explained why you are here.¡± ¡°I would like to pray for a short time at the feet of the Ancient Pine. I have a very short list of things that I would like to do, but that list is eclipsed by the inevitable list of things that I must do.¡± Kayelinth offered in a voice edged with humor as she offered a shrug as if to say, ¡°isn¡¯t that the way of the world?¡± The Eldest chuckled. ¡°I think very few of us often are allowed the time to do what we want. How much time would you need at the Ancient Pine?¡± The fire-haired woman tapped a manicured and painted finger against her lips thoughtfully. ¡°An hour? A day? It¡¯s sometimes very difficult to speak with an Original.¡± She offered with another shrug. ¡°Certainly no longer than a day to try and see if my prayers are heard. Once done, I will trouble your doorstep no more.¡± The priestesses conferred. ¡°It might be possible to grant you a day¡¯s worth of time. However... There¡¯s a matter that we have to deal with here at our shrine. It might not be possible for us to attend to your needs.¡± Kayelinth¡¯s gaze sharpened, and it was as if all the menacing bloodthirst she spread about herself suddenly focused into a blade of killing intent that hovered, gently prickling, at the Eldest¡¯s throat. ¡°Do you need help?¡± The flame-haired Shrine Priestess offered in a low, cool voice. ¡°N-no.¡± The Eldest managed, feeling her forehead break out in sweat. She was suddenly aware that she was drenched in sweat. Whatever monstrous feeling spread from the woman, her body was racing to express her fear. ¡°It¡¯s a routine matter, something we¡¯ve seen to many times before.¡± The feeling of having a bared blade resting against her throat vanished, and the Eldest gulped in relief. ¡°That one?¡± Kayelinth asked, and then added, ¡°The one in the yard?¡± The Eldest nodded. The flame-haired Priestess grinned around a mouthful of teeth that seemed too big, too bright, too sharp, too... toothsome. ¡°She seems very promising. Fearlessly walked up to me and asked if I needed assistance. No one else dared approach, as if I were some monster.¡± The Eldest raised an eyebrow at that. Was the woman simply unaware of the effect her presence had on people? ***** The meeting with the Shrine Priestesses got off to a rocky start. ¡°I do not understand the relevance of such a meeting.¡± Moriko opened immediately after everyone had sipped their tea. Her voice was sour with irritability. ¡°I have made my choice; I am ready to undergo the trials to become a Shrine Maiden.¡± The three Priestesses eyed each other over their cups with amused expressions. ¡°We know.¡± One of the Priestesses replied patiently. She was the eldest, and her hair was completely white with age. ¡°You¡¯ve been quite vocal about it since you were young enough to speak.¡± One of the other Shrine Priestesses tapped a piece of paper and passed it to the eldest. ¡°Ah. Your skill with the naginata and the yumi are exemplary, though your skills in the sword are somewhat... deficient.¡± Moriko made a sour face at that. The naginata was not simply a bladed spear, meant for thrusting and slashing, it was a weapon that required the right balance of move and countermove. You had to think ahead, consider each step, each move taken that would result in your victory. The bow was a weapon that required intense focus and concentration. You could not simply wave a spear or shoot an arrow indiscriminately; it took foresight, thought, skill, poise, and diligence, so that the thrust was not wasted, the arrow did not go wide. Comparatively speaking, swinging a sword was ... boring. ¡°We¡¯ve tested your aptitudes for the esoteric arts from time to time, and it seems that there will be no foreseeable problems there, either.¡± The eldest Priestess paused at that, and seemed as if she wanted to say something more, but elected not to. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Moriko was familiar with that expression. She knew exactly what she was, and in turn, knew exactly how the Shrine saw her. Everyone else got along with each other just fine; she was the eternal outsider. ¡°Ah. How fortuitous.¡± One of the Shrine Priestesses exclaimed in a flat voice devoid of emotion. ¡°It seems we¡¯re due for a visit to the Shrine of the Stony Pool.¡± The other two Shrine Priestesses nodded, their faces blank. Moriko wondered why they¡¯d bring this up in front of her. Wasn¡¯t she to be a Maiden? Besides, how did Shrine Priestess business have anything at all to do with her? ¡°Ah. How fortuitous indeed.¡± The Eldest replied, her voice so flat and indifferent, like she didn¡¯t care if she never once sat foot in the Shrine of the Stony Pool, as if it was the most uninteresting and boring thing ever. ¡°How many this season?¡± the youngest Priestess asked. ¡°Just the one.¡± The Eldest replied. ¡°You¡¯ll be accompanying us on this trip, Acolyte. Well, alongside a dozen or so Maidens, I should say.¡± The Eldest offered by way of explanation. ¡°You¡¯ll be issued the standard traveling gear, but don¡¯t think yourself a Maiden, don¡¯t get in the way of the real Maidens, and do try to stay out from underfoot.¡± ¡°You are free to go, Acolyte.¡± one of the younger Shrine Priestesses snapped her out of her confusion with the unshakable voice of command. Moriko rose to her feet and bowed respectfully. ***** She managed to keep her composure as she exited the Inner Shrine, but the moment her twelve-year-old feet hit the pebbled path, she was running, her excitement too much to bear. A trip outside! A trip to another Shrine! She had to pack thoroughly and properly. First was clothes; she scoured the sky; not a cloud in sight. It was early summer and the worst of the rains had passed. Still, a longcoat would not be unwise. She had heard the trip to the Stony Pool could take a few weeks by foot, it was not impossible that it would rain unexpectedly. She packed two sets of clothes in the traditional Maiden style. She was debating a choice in sandals when a painful cramp clenched her lower abdomen and she doubled over in pain, fingers digging into the woven floor mats. She understood that she was a woman now, capable of carrying life and giving birth, but poetic turns of phrase and dry, clinical expressions didn¡¯t prepare her for the pain of menstrual cramps. As she lay sweating on the floor of her small room, she petulantly kicked her feet. She was a Shrine Maiden, she shouldn¡¯t need this sort of inconvenience. She would bear no children. Kaori, one of the Shrine Maidens tasked with her training, stuck her head in Moriko¡¯s room and eyed the girl groaning on the floor. ¡°Cramps, mmm?¡± She asked, her normally dry voice layered with sympathy. Moriko nodded. ¡°Mine were the worst.¡± Kaori confided as she came into the room. ¡°Every month I¡¯d think, ¡°I¡¯ve gotten used to them!¡± and bam! Like a shot to the gut, I¡¯d be rolling on the floor praying to the Patrons to rid me of them.¡± Moriko eyed Kaori dubiously. ¡°Rolling on the floor?¡± Kaori nodded. ¡°It hurt that bad, like my guts were trying to tear their way out of me.¡± ¡°You seem fine, now.¡± Moriko observed. Kaori smiled a little. ¡°I have medicine for the pain, now. The Shrine Priestesses won¡¯t give you any, though. They think that you should have a normal cycle for a few years.¡± She lay on the floor next to Moriko, even though it was an undisciplined and improper posture. ¡°Why?¡± Moriko asked. ¡°They say that it¡¯s because it builds character. I think they want to make sure that we really want to commit to being a Shrine Maiden.¡± She paused. ¡°The medicine numbs the pain, and you don¡¯t have to deal with the problem anymore, but you¡¯re still a woman, and they want you to remember that by having you go through this every month until...¡± She turned her head. ¡°How old are you, again? Eleven?¡± ¡°Twelve, by Yamato calendar. Eleven, by Anglish.¡± Moriko replied, pushing herself upright a little as she searched her sleeve for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her face. ¡°Then you¡¯re screwed until you¡¯re fourteen, by Yamato reckoning.¡± Kaori teased. Moriko sighed. ¡°No happy words of encouragement, Kaori?¡± She asked in a resigned tone. ¡°I¡¯ve been told I have to accompany some Shrine Maidens to the Stony Pool.¡± Kaori immediately sobered up at this. ¡°Ah.¡± Her face and voice were immediately blank. She rolled to her feet gracefully, as if she¡¯d been doing it all her life. Moriko still struggled with falls and rolls in her martial arts training. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back.¡± Kaori announced, and then added, ¡°Don¡¯t go anywhere.¡± in an admonishing tone. Moriko clutched her aching belly. ¡°As if I could.¡± Kaori returned shortly and seated herself correctly across from Moriko. From her sleeve, she pulled out a number of small implements; a square leather pouch, a lacquered piece of wood, some paper medicine packets, and a bundle of cloth. ¡°Sit up, Moriko. I¡¯ll only explain this once.¡± Kaori warned, and Moriko struggled to sit upright. Her stomach roiled and churned. ¡°This is the medicine we take.¡± Kaori explained, pointing to the paper packets of powder. ¡°Take it in tiny amounts while you¡¯re on your trip to the Stony Pool. It¡¯ll dull the pain. If you take too much, then the Shrine Priestesses will catch on, and then we¡¯re both doomed to a life of penance.¡± Moriko blinked at this, but nodded. ¡°It¡¯s likely that they won¡¯t allow you to bring a weapon. You are, after all, a twelve-year-old girl.¡± Kaori began, but shook her head. ¡°But no Shrine Maiden should be without at least a kaiken.¡± She picked up the lacquered piece of wood, and tugged on it, revealing that it was a knife with a ten-inch blade. Moriko nodded without changing her expression. A kaiken was a knife that was more ceremonial than functional- it didn¡¯t have a crossguard, after all- but it was considered the last line of defense that a Shrine Maiden could have. ¡°Keep it with you at all times, even when you sleep or bathe. It should always be within reach of your hand, no matter what.¡± Kaori instructed. She picked up the leather pouch and the bundle of cloth and explained that it was for her ¡®monthly visitor¡¯ and how the Yamato dealt with the matter. Some preferred to bury the cloths, others believed that malicious mages or even demons could use the materials to construct blasphemies and burned them instead. Moriko nodded to the explanations. ¡°Any other advice that I should have for my trip to the Stony Pool?¡± Moriko asked curiously as she carefully stowed away the things that Kaori had given her. Kaori pressed her lips together. ¡°I can¡¯t; it¡¯s forbidden.¡± She finally replied. ¡°Good luck, Moriko.¡± She rose to her feet and stepped out of the girl¡¯s room without looking back, leaving Moriko to stare at the door in bafflement. What was that supposed to mean? She changed her clothes again; it was unsightly to see a Shrine Maiden wearing sweat-drenched clothes, and she felt it would make a better impression on those that she had to interact with while preparing for her trip to another shrine. First her undergarments, then the traditional hakui kimono top, followed by the wide pleated hakama skirt. Since she was still an acolyte, it was a brilliant red. She longed for the black hakama for the Shrine Maidens that was also divided for riding horses. She took a moment to check the freedom of movement allowed by her dressing, and slipped her new knife into her inner robes, between the belt and her skin. Normally knives such as these were given covered in clan seals and symbols, but Moriko was happy to receive a blank one without adornment. By abandoning her on the steps of the Imperial Shrine, her family had cut all ties with her. The preferential treatment she received from the shrine because of the family that had abandoned her chafed uncomfortably with her. Moriko at the Ancient Pine 3 Moriko arrived at the armory and took a moment to pull her hair into a comfortable tail at the base of her neck before she stepped inside. A veteran Shrine Maiden with a ghastly scar on her face greeted her warmly, and she returned the greeting. ¡°I thought I might get some archery practice in.¡± She offered after greetings were exchanged. The woman smiled. Were it not for the long scar that ran from the left side of her forehead straight down across her eye to her left cheekbone she would be quite lovely, Moriko decided. ¡°You know what I think? I think a young acolyte is going to be taking a trip to the Stony Pool and she wants to bring her favorite bow with her.¡± Reluctantly, Moriko nodded with a little chagrin, and the older woman laughed knowingly but not unkindly. ¡°Fear not, little acolyte. I was asked just a short time ago to pack away a bow and some arrows for you. I made sure it was your favorite, too.¡± Moriko scrunched her brows together. Technically all weapons belonged to the Shrine, but Moriko had indeed preferred one bow above all others. It had the right tension, the perfect flexibility and seemed to come alive in her hands. ¡°Everyone goes through this phase.¡± The woman explained kindly. ¡°It¡¯s nothing special. They find a bow, a naginata, or a katana that fits their body. I think that when you grow up you will realize that particular bow will no longer fit you anymore, and you will find another that suits you better.¡± Moriko digested this, and nodded after some thought. She rather liked the fact that she was very much like everyone else. It was like she was following the footsteps of those that came before, leaving her footprints in the same ground that those who came after her would follow. She was no different from anyone else. The woman gestured to her for her to wait, disappeared into the back, and returned carrying a wakizashi, a short sword. ¡°I was told to outfit you for your travel to the Stony pool. No Shrine Maiden should be without a sword, but you¡¯re too small yet for a proper blade.¡± Moriko gave her a petulant look, and the woman smiled. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look, little one. Soon enough you will grow big and strong to match that fierce temper.¡± She set the blade on the counter. ¡°There is no expectation that you will need a sword, of course. You¡¯re simply traveling from the Ancient Pine to the Stony Pool.¡± She paused. ¡°However, it¡¯s very likely that the path has become overgrown. It may fall to you to cut a path through the brush and such so that everyone can pass through.¡± Moriko frowned dubiously. ¡°I am to use temple steel to cut through shrubbery?¡± She scoffed. The woman smiled a little at this. ¡°A tool is not demeaned by its use. A blade is meant to cut, Acolyte, and now you have one. Spend time cleaning and oiling your blade and you should have no problems.¡± Moriko lifted the blade and turned it over in her hands, and then bared an inch of blade. The grain of the blade was fine, and the edge uncommonly bright and sharp. ¡°That was made by the swordsmith Sadamune. Its epitaph is Ropecutter.¡± She gave another half-smile. ¡°So you won¡¯t be dishonoring the blade by using it to cut shrubbery.¡± Moriko rolled the handle across her knuckles, whirled it in a tight pattern, switched grips, and tested its weight and balance. Finally, she slid the blade in her sash and slanted it properly so that it was ready to draw at a moment¡¯s notice. The armorer nodded approvingly, and then smirkingly laid a tightly rolled leather bundle on the counter. ¡°That is..?¡± Moriko began, and the woman frowned. ¡°You didn''t expect to get a blade and simply use it? You¡¯ll need to clean and maintain the sword on your own, from now on.¡± She propped an elbow on her hand. ¡°That¡¯s yours, by the way. It was a blade given to my family by Sadamune. I expect that I¡¯ll never see it again because it¡¯s yours... unless you die. So don¡¯t die.¡± The woman got up and went into the armory and closed the door behind her. Moriko fetched a sigh from somewhere around her sandals and let it out. ***** The tree held no interest in those that passed through it on their way to the Cycle of Rebirth. The tree wanted to plunge its roots deep into the earth and stretch its branches wide to catch the sun. The tree would provide rest, shelter, and peace to those that rested beneath its mighty boughs, but it had no care for the world of men and elves and beast-kin. It dreamed its slow tree dreams and existed in the tidal pull of sap running through its trunk and the passing of an infinity of seasons. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.An animal might sharpen its claws against its bark, a man might test its axe against its armored trunk, but an animal or a man lived only a few years while the patience of the tree was the patience of millenia. Animals and men alike would crumble to dust in the time it would take for the mighty tree to even notice. Deep inside one of the tree-dreams, a meeting was taking place. A young woman with hair that seemed to be ablaze without being consumed eyed the tree, and turned to the faceless statue. ¡°You see? I think it¡¯s dead. We should have held this meeting in my realm, where my power holds sway. If it were truly alive, then it would take a form capable of communicating with us... or risk burning to death in my embers.¡± For a moment the woman flickered between a girlish figure and a titanic creature , birdlike, carved from flame. In its heart roared the infinite fury of a small star. ¡°It is not my place to judge.¡± The Nameless Stone replied. ¡°You always say that.¡± The burning woman complained, not unkindly. Out in the shadows, things burbled, hissed and screeched in their madness. They resembled horrific, shapeless monsters, all teeth and frothing eyes and gelatinous, rubbery skin, boiling with the power of chaos. ¡°It is your time, Ancient Pine! Wake up and pay attention!¡± The burning woman screeched. Slowly, ponderously, the Great tree¡¯s fissured bark began to bulge, and a figure emerged without gender, composed entirely of wood. ¡°What is it that you want?¡± The tree demanded in an indifferent voice that implied that it couldn¡¯t care at all with what they said, would not care what they said, would ignore what they said, and promptly forget what was said immediately after hearing it. ¡°The Marauder stalks the world of men! Why have you not released the Songweaver?¡± The Phoenix demanded. The tree-person immediately adopted a posture of thought, and then, in a lackadaisical, indifferent voice, ¡°The Songweaver does not belong to me.¡± The Phoenix hissed in anger, and a sense of disappointment and disapproval radiated from the Nameless Stones¡¯ avatar. ¡°The Empress has been released into the world.¡± The Ancient Pine offered indifferently, its voice indicating the strongest desire to go back to its timeless sleep. The Phoenix sighed and shook her head, casting a glance at the Nameless Stone. ¡°It thinks it¡¯s discharged its duty to the world by releasing the Empress into the world, when the Songweaver is the only one to bring peace to the Marauder''s madness.¡± ¡°I am not the keeper of the Empress.¡± came the apathetic response from the Ancient Pine. ¡°I just noticed her advent.¡± The unconcerned tree offered in an unhurried tone. ¡°Have you forgotten who owns her?¡± The Nameless Stone decided to speak, then. ¡°The Marauder has been loosed upon the world before without unleashing his madness upon the world.¡± The Phoenix shook her head. ¡°I took the madness from him for a time, to spare his suffering.¡± She clamped her lips tightly together. ¡°I had to return it to him.¡± A silence colder and deeper than the depths of infinity itself stretched between the three Originals. ¡°On that note,¡± The Phoenix announced, ¡°I have decided to take a vacation in the World of the Real. The girl is becoming most insistent in her summonings. It seems she is traveling to the Caverns of Archetypes for her ritual.¡± The sudden silence in this proclamation casually dropped into the conversation was deeper, stronger, and colder than the previous. The Phoenix indifferently flicked a finger in the neutral space that had been created by the Ancient Pine, carving a doorway back to the Realm of Fire, effortlessly revealing the tremendous power it carried within its burning breast. The Nameless Stone and the Ancient Pine were Originals, they were created specifically by She, like the Sentinel and Weaver. The Phoenix was an Original too, so they should have held the exact same powers and strengths. It was their job as Elder Gods to supervise the reincarnation cycle for the mortals in the World of the Real. That was their job, and that should have been the beginning, middle, and ending of their powers, yet the Phoenix had demonstrated a power that was superior to their own... and casually announced that she was going to take a ¡°vacation¡± in the World of the Real, incarnating herself as a human being. Could something like that even be done? The wooden figure crawled back into the Tree and the Ancient Pine faded from the space it had created, leaving only the Nameless One. The rustle and hissing and gasping from the Elder Things on the outer edges of the space the Nameless One existed in grew louder. Poor, insane, broken things. They would never be what they once were. The Nameless Stone faded, collapsing the space he had occupied. Moriko at the Ancient Pine 4 Moriko¡¯s departure from the shrine was smooth and without problems in the beginning. She woke up early, collected her belongings, took a little medicine in anticipation of the long journey down the stairs, and joined the group of twelve Maidens. They immediately kicked her out of their formation. ¡°You¡¯re just an acolyte. Don¡¯t think of yourself as a Maiden yet.¡± Their leader remarked brusquely. ¡°You haven¡¯t even fought anything, yet. Get up ahead with the Priestesses and leave the rear formation to the Maidens.¡± She approached the Priestesses, who eyed her with cool disdain. ¡°You¡¯re just an acolyte. What are you doing up here? Don¡¯t you understand formations? Get back where you belong, with the Maidens.¡± After these remonstrations, she took up a position between the Maidens and the Priestesses, her head on a swivel. The whole world stretched out before her, unknown and unknowable. There were all sorts of trees and plants and animals she had never seen before. Her eyes probed the underbrush at the slightest sound. Birds flitted from tree to tree; Moriko followed them alertly, hand on her shortsword thrust in her belts. After they reached the road that ran from Begierde and Doran, they crossed it and entered the forest. One of the Shrine Maidens gestured at Moriko. ¡°Why don¡¯t you try stringing your little training bow, and venture out a bit. Not so far that you can¡¯t see us. Hunt us down some rabbits for dinner.¡± Finally given a task to do, Moriko strung her bow deftly and headed into the unfamiliar forest and scanned the ground for any sign of rabbit. She climbed over rocks, skipped over roots, trotted across flat expanses of ground, keeping an eye on the party and the other out for rabbits. Surprisingly, she discovered a few, and let her arrows fly. Out of five arrows she managed to bag three rabbits on the run. She debated retrieving her arrows, and decided that she should be fine as long as she was quick about it. On her return, she realized she¡¯d lost the party, so she cast around for tracks and caught up with them swiftly, where she was lectured for ¡°wandering off on her own.¡± The Shrine Maidens got an earful too, they were supposed to keep her from wandering off as well. The Shrine Maidens glared at her when she held up her catch, a trio of coneys she felt an absurd pride in taking while they were running. Archery was a contest between the shooter and the target, and she had won. Surely that was worth some measure of pride. When they stopped for the evening, the Shrine Maidens made it explicitly clear that she was expected to dress her kills. ¡°I¡¯ve never done anything like that before.¡± She replied. ¡°Of course you haven¡¯t, you¡¯re just an acolyte.¡± They sneered. One of the younger ones jerked her head for Moriko to follow and took Moriko to one of the tiny creeks that eventually fed into what the people of Nauders called The Great Mother River. ¡°Okay, first get out your knife. You¡¯re going to need to-¡± She looked at Moriko, who had reached for her kaiken. ¡°You didn¡¯t even bring a knife with you?¡± Moriko blinked in response. ¡°I have one, I-¡± The girl sighed. ¡°That¡¯s a knife to defend yourself with, not to dismantle prey.¡± She explained with all the condescension she could muster for someone so catastrophically stupid. ¡°Look... just take it.¡± She offered Moriko her knife and pulled out a second blade. ¡°You need to be able to carry several knives.¡± the girl warned. ¡°A good utility blade will take you further in the field than a ceremonial knife for self-defense.¡± She explained how to clean and skin the rabbits for dinner. ¡°Now go and offer them to the Shrine Priestesses. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be happy to eat something besides trail rations.¡± Moriko approached the Shrine Priestesses with her rabbits in tow. They eyed her disdainfully. ¡°You¡¯re filthy already? And covered in blood, I see. Not yours, I take it?¡± the Eldest inquired, eyeing the skinned and prepared rabbits. Moriko shook her head. ¡°Well, at least you¡¯ve got initiative.¡± the Eldest muttered, but one of the other Priestesses demurred. ¡°If she had initiative, she would have set up the tents with the Shrine Maidens.¡± She remarked, flicking scornful eyes at the young acolyte. Moriko kept back her sigh, offered them the rabbits, which they accepted, and retreated to the Shrine Maidens. They chivvied the young girl as they taught her how to set up a tent, start a fire, and received her food for the evening, a bland meal of boiled oats. She knew what they were doing, of course. In the Shrine, everything was a test, a prick of the finger, a jab at the conscience, a foot casually extended in a calculated move to make the other trip. Tests revealed the inner map of the mind, and for those who would live and worship in the shrine, it was very important to understand the depth, width, and breadth of the person you were dealing with. ***** The eldest Shrine Maiden took her aside just as she was about to retire for the night. Her eyes were heavy, her whole body ached, and she was eager to go to sleep, but it seemed as though the Eldest had other plans. ¡°I¡¯m going to try and teach you the Art of Ofuda.¡± The senior sister explained, and laid out several slips of paper in front of Moriko. ¡°Concentrate. Consider what you will need tomorrow. Will it be healing? Defense? Purification? A tool? A weapon? Think on these things, and memorize this song I am about to sing. Think carefully, because you will only have one chance at this each night, before bed.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The Eldest laid out a double dozen slips of paper in front of herself, with confused Moriko. Why did she get so many? Why was Moriko only allowed three? The eldest hummed for a moment, and then launched into a rhythmic chant. At the Eldest Shrine Maiden¡¯s cue, Moriko joined in and struggled to match the Eldest¡¯s rhythm. ¡°These are the prayers to our Patron, who rewards our faith with the ability to use these powers.¡± The Eldest finished and examined her spell-slips with satisfaction. She glanced over at Moriko¡¯s, and her mouth twisted. ¡°So that¡¯s what you think you will need, hmm? We¡¯ll see about that.¡± ***** As the days spent traveling multiplied, Moriko learned more and more about what it meant to be a Shrine Maiden. In the beginning, she understood that they were a fighting force, but the time spent on the trail revealed so much more. They could fight, certainly, but they could, through their connection to the various kami, also purify the dead, ward away illnesses and disease, heal, create defensive wards and barriers, binding spells, and offensive magics. Each of these things required a connection to the kami in order to accomplish. Moriko herself was unaware of which kami her soul belonged to. That was something that she was meant to discover after her trip, it seemed. Since she had no idea which kami was responsible for her soul, her ability to create her ofuda was limited to the basest and ordinary spells: create water, create light, and a meager healing spell that was useful for healing the cuts and scratches and small bruises she received while traveling with the Shrine Maidens. She learned survival skills such as setting up and tearing down her tent, which plants were edible and which were dangerous, how to hunt and fish efficiently, and how to start a fire without a flint and steel. They also drilled her on the sword, something she disliked. She preferred the bow or the spear, but it seemed as though the Maidens had been expressly told to drill her relentlessly with the sword. They pressed her and pressed her, and finally, in a fit of pique, she used her ofuda to toss water in the face of the Shrine Maiden that was pressing her with the sword. The woman stumbled back, and Moriko, small and quick and light, hooked the woman¡¯s foot out from underneath her. She was about to level her sword at the woman to force her surrender when suddenly her body was forcefully grappled with thousands of threadlike, creeping twisting vines that wound themselves around her arms, legs and stomach and jerked her off her feet and slammed her to the ground. The Shrine Maiden rolled to her feet with an easy grin and leveled her own sword at Moriko¡¯s throat. ¡°You lost when you made this a fight with spells, Acolyte.¡± The Maiden announced, wiping her face. ¡°I yield.¡± Moriko complained bitterly. The maiden cut her free of the vines and helped her up. ¡°Still, I must admit it was surprising to get a faceful of water.¡± The young woman admitted. She pulled back the sleeve on her kimono, revealing a brutal scar that ran the length of her forearm. ¡°Never make the mistake that a fight will always conform to the kata.¡± She advised Moriko. ¡°It¡¯s important to use whatever means necessary to win.¡± Moriko nodded. ¡°Good. let¡¯s see your forms again; starting with the second kata.¡± the Maiden voiced briskly. Moriko rolled her eyes, and did as she was instructed. Every night Moriko would see to herself as instructed, and in the morning she would secretly take a little of the painkiller she had been given to deal with the cramps. The pain made her want to curl into a ball; the painkiller made her queasy and lightheaded before it kicked in. During the day she foraged, sparred, prayed and sang and tried to soak up as much as she could. It was just past the halfway point between the Shrine of the Ancient Pine and the Shrine of the Stony Pool when a titanic bear rumbled out of the woods, roaring a challenge. Moriko froze; she¡¯d never seen such a huge beast before. When it rose to its feet, it towered over her. When it dropped to all fours to charge at her, she was vaguely mesmerized by the rippling of its thick, shaggy hide. Someone shouted, ¡°Run, Moriko!¡± which snapped her back to awareness. Moriko bolted, feet slapping the ground as the monstrous beast thundered behind her, growling and huffing. She spotted a tree; she leapt with all her might and caught one of the low-hanging branches. She swung herself up and shrieked as the bear rose up, massive paws extending brutal claws that dug into the tree. It hadn¡¯t even risen to its full height and already it was reaching the branch she was on! She climbed higher and higher still as the bear snapped branches and shredded bark and roared thunderously as it struggled to reach her. The bear, frustrated that it couldn¡¯t reach her, suddenly began shoving the tree. Moriko let out another shriek as the tree groaned with the force the bear was putting against it. The tree wasn¡¯t that big around; barely past a sapling. At the height she¡¯d climbed, the limb she was on could barely support her weight. The trunk groaned and creaked as the bear shoved. Moriko glanced around herself as she struggled to think of something she could do. All of her things were back at camp. She had no bow, no spear, she didn¡¯t even have the short sword she¡¯d been given at the start of her journey. She had no weapon with which to threaten or even hurt the bear with. She glanced down and straight into the glaring, bloodshot eyes of the bear. It¡¯s enormous mouth opened and its breath, rancid and redolent of things left to rot washed over her. She gagged on the stench, and nearly lost her footing when the thing let out an earth-shattering roar. She pulled out the slip of paper that¡¯d been charged with a water spell and released it; a splash of water hit the thing right in the mouth and the bear gurgled and choked, momentarily dropping to all fours as it struggled to force the water out. Moriko swung down out of the tree and dashed off as quickly as she could, desperate to put as much distance between her and the monster as she could. As she ran, trees streamed by to the left and right of her. Which direction was she going? She couldn¡¯t tell offhand, but since her shadow was directly in front of her, she guessed she was heading west. The bear roared again, and once again she could hear the thunderous stampede of its massive feet as it lumbered after her. She ducked and dodged around pines, and spotted a boarswood tree. Boarswood was a dense, strong wood that some people used as armor. It was fireproof, and its bark was as difficult to carve up as the wood itself. She leaped into the branches of the tree, and pulled herself higher and higher still, until she was certain that the bear wouldn¡¯t be able to reach her. The bear dashed past the tree she was in, eliciting a gasp of surprise from her. She could still hear the thing as it thundered past; she fancied she could feel the reverberation of its heavy tread in her chest as she struggled to calm her breathing. She pulled herself higher into the tree, and hugged the trunk to keep herself still, and make herself as small as possible. The bear came back, and circled the tree. She moved with the bear as it circled the tree, lightly stepping on thick branches to keep the trunk between her and the bear. She didn¡¯t want the beast to catch sight of her. She wouldn¡¯t be able to make any more water for a full day. With that thought, she mentally kicked herself. Her brush and paper were back at camp, along with the rest of her things. The bear circled the tree a few times, and then moved off a ways. She slowly settled herself to a sitting position on one of the thicker branches, and eyed the giant beast carefully. What was she supposed to do? She had her knife with her, but she didn¡¯t have the strength to slice through that thick hide. She considered cutting or breaking one of the branches to use as a club, but belatedly remembered that she was in a boarswood tree. She was no lumberjack with the necessary strength to carve through the dense wood of a boarswood tree. She examined her options one by one until she came to the depressing conclusion that she was stuck. Moriko at the Ancient Pine 5 Moriko had no way of tracking how much time was passing beyond the sun. Minutes seemed to stretch out to hours, hours were eternities. The bear didn¡¯t seem to care that she was out of reach- more, it seemed to know that it was impossible for it to push down the tree. Bizarrely, she found herself beginning to drowse. In her dream, she seemed to be having a conversation with someone about her predicament. ¡°Strange. Bears don¡¯t usually act like that.¡± Her interlocutor remarked. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. It¡¯s a bear.¡± She argued. ¡°It¡¯s a beast. There¡¯s no rhyme or reason to what a beast does.¡± ¡°Yes there is.¡± Her conversation partner insisted. ¡°A bear will protect its den or its cubs. It will hunt for food. A bear won¡¯t get into pointless fights... and between going and getting an easy meal and waiting for something that¡¯s out of reach, it¡¯s going to give up and go somewhere else, somewhere the food is easier to get to.¡± ¡°So what should I do, then?¡± She demanded. The person she was talking to rubbed their chin. She couldn¡¯t make them out very well, it was like they were wrapped in an obscuring fog. ¡°Are you near their den?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think so. I don¡¯t think the Shrine Priestesses would knowingly take us near a bear¡¯s den.¡± ¡°By the way, where are your Shrine Priestesses?¡± Moriko froze. She had no idea. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen them.¡± ¡°Do you think the bear got them?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure they could deal with the bear on their own.¡± She complained, more for her lack of power than anything else. ¡°Hmm. Think on this, then: If the bear got them, why isn¡¯t it eating them instead of chasing you around? Flip it around and think about this: If the bear didn¡¯t get them, then where are they?¡± Moriko jolted awake and nearly lost her perch. She looked around for the bear, and found it right where it was earlier, basking in the sun. She couldn¡¯t see if its eyes were open or closed, whether it was sleeping or awake. She checked her sleeves to confirm her kaiken, her knife, was still where it was meant to be, and discovered that at some point or another she had stashed a few scraps of jerky. She thumbed them into her mouth as she considered. Her robe, like every other Shrine Maiden robe, had magical pockets stitched into the sleeves. Many Maidens stashed arrows for their bow, food, spare ofuda and brush, waterskins, medicines, basically everything they might need. Foolishly, she hadn¡¯t taken advantage of the utility. She really should have. She could try to wait for the bear to give up and leave. It likely did have a den, like her unseen conversation partner had mentioned. Sooner or later it had to go home, right? She certainly wanted to go home. She checked the sky; it seemed she¡¯d napped for at least a couple of hours. She adjusted her position on the branch she was sitting on and leaned her back against the trunk of the tree. She¡¯d calm herself down a little and think of her next step. The bear lay between her and the path back to the Ancient Pine. There was also the impossibility of going to the highway that stretched between Tannit and Begierde. She was closer to the Stony Pool, and there was no bear between her and it. It would take several days at the least to get to the Stony Pool, and it was a possibility that the bear would give chase. Animals tracked by scent, right? She went through her magical pockets again, and came up with the same things: her kaiken, her utility knife, her medicine and pouch of spare cloths to manage her menses. She took a little painkiller; it tasted horrible and was supposed to be taken with water. There was also a sarashi, though she didn¡¯t think she needed it. All Shrine Maidens were expected to bind themselves once they came of age. She blinked and tugged experimentally on the sarashi. It was silk, of course. Somewhat elastic, but strong. The beginnings of an idea came to mind, but she¡¯d have to wait for nightfall. In the early evening, she looped her sarashi around the branch she was on, and descended silently, hand over hand, to the forest floor. She twitched the cloth, and as it fell she spooled it up. Throughout the entire descent she¡¯d kept her eyes on the bear without blinking. She was certain it was sleeping. She slowly and carefully fled the area, struggling with the overwhelming, panicky urge to run as hard as she could, and the desperate need for stealth. She headed north for several miles and breathed a sigh of relief when the path that the Shrine Maidens took when they passed to and from the Stony Pool came into view. She could theoretically make it to the Stony Pool, as long as she was able to secure food and water. She was able to construct a firebow and kindle a small campfire, though she had no food to cook or water to drink. After a couple of hours staring moodily into the small fire, she curled up into a little ball and fell asleep. ***** He was massive. She¡¯d seen tall humans before, but he was taller than them. His hands looked like they could crush her skull as easily as she could crush an egg. She was certain he was going to kill her. His head pivoted on his bull neck, his thick shoulders flexed, his arms were as big as tree trunks. His eyes dipped to hers. A jolt of terror went through her like a bolt of lightning and she wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d wet herself. ¡°Y-You¡¯re very tall.¡± She stammered, and his eyes, which were hard and probing softened to something a little less intimidating as they fell to her. He crouched, but even then, even crouched down, he was larger than her. His legs were bigger around than she was. His hands looked like they could pull melons apart, his fingers thick and spatulate. But he smiled at her gently. ¡°And you¡¯re very small.¡± He replied to her, and she immediately trembled in fear. It was an explicit warning: ¡°stay out of my way¡±, it said. But his eyes were kind. It was like he was reminding himself that she was the small and delicate one. ¡°I¡¯ll get bigger!¡± She promised. He would not have to look out under his feet for long. She would get bigger, grow taller, get stronger. He grinned at her playfully, as if he could read her thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m-¡± He began, and something in her demanded she speak up. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Everyone knows who you are.¡± she interrupted self-importantly, and with a trace of bitter irony in her voice. She knew what that was like. But he simply nodded at her. ¡°I imagine so.¡± was his reply. ¡°And who might you be?¡± he asked, his voice smooth and calm and polite. He might be a giant, but he wasn¡¯t someone to fear. When he¡¯d spotted her, the first thing he¡¯d done was try to bring himself down to her height. He wanted to speak to her as an equal. She knew it, could feel it in her bones. But the bitterness in her breast wouldn¡¯t be denied. ¡°Everyone knows who I am.¡± She complained. He smiled at that, too. ¡°Well then I¡¯m nobody.¡± He explained simply, ¡°Because I have no idea who you are.¡± A dozen little thoughts raced through her mind. Of course he had no idea who she was. He was a visitor from Outside, there was no way that he could know who she was. If he didn¡¯t know who she was, then maybe he¡¯d treat her differently. She balled her tiny hands into fists. She¡¯d introduce herself properly, then, and without fear of that same, pointless judgemental look. She opened her mouth to speak- ¡°Moriko!¡± The woman¡¯s voice echoed from across the exercise yard. She shouldn¡¯t have been out of bed. It was against the rules, but she wanted to explore. The man rose to his feet, growing as if by some terrifying magic. He once again towered over everything. He even stretched his arms up and out and wide in a subtle intimidation that didn¡¯t go unnoticed. He was massive. Gigantic. He was as big as the Ancient Pine itself, a titanic force of relentless power and unfathomable strength. He could eat whole children, swallow them whole. Suddenly he scooped her up. She was certain he was going to wrap his massive hands around her tiny body and with cataclysmic force tear her asunder and drink her innards. He nestled her comfortably in the crook of his arm, as one might hold a small pet. His leathered, calloused palm stroked her head gently. He said something to the Shrine Maiden, but she couldn¡¯t tell what it was. She was nestled against his massive chest; his voice was the boom and crack of rumbling thunder in the distance. He smelled like sweat and leather and woodsmoke, an earthy, comfortable smell. The Shrine Maiden said something back, and Daveth adjusted his grip on her gently and held her out towards the Shrine Maiden. Moriko beat her tiny fists on his chest; she wasn¡¯t sure if it was because he was handing her back or if it was because he¡¯d treated her like a small animal. The giant and the Shrine Maiden made some more conversation as the Shrine Maiden received her. As the Shrine Maiden beat a hasty retreat back towards the dorms, Moriko peeked over the Shrine Maiden¡¯s shoulder at the gigantic man. He gave her a little wave as she was taken back to the dormitories. ¡°Thanks for all of your hard work.¡± The eldest Shrine Priestess called out to one of her compatriots, who was slipping into camp. ¡°I would have done it myself, but lately my joints aren¡¯t what they used to be.¡± She complained. ¡°I think it¡¯s nearly time for me to be put to rest in the soil.¡± The eldest expected the other Shrine Priestess to be accompanied by Moriko, and the sight of the Priestess without the Acolyte was alarming. ¡°Where is she?¡± The Shrine Priestess shook her head. ¡°I lost her trail.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not all you lost. You lost Moriko.¡± The Eldest barked angrily. ¡°You know what that means.¡± The other Shrine Priestesses nodded. Even though there was no preferential treatment in the Shrines, Moriko was supposed to be protected. The pilgrimage from one Shrine to another was an important test for the Acolytes, a rite of passage, to show them what was to be expected of them as Shrine Maidens. Somehow, Moriko was not where she was supposed to be, and got separated from the rest of the group. They needed to find her, quickly and discreetly. Moriko found a creek and plunged headfirst into the water. For a girl used to bathing daily, the entire trip was an essay in letting sweat, grime, dirt, and other unpleasant things build up. She washed her face and hands and drank greedily. She cleaned herself as quickly and as thoroughly as she could, keeping her eyes out for any sign of pursuit from the bear, ears straining for the slightest sound. As she waded out of the creek, something caught her eye, and she moved closer to investigate. Buried halfway in the mud of the creek¡¯s bank was a rusting sword. She reached out to take it, but froze, fingers a few inches from the rotted leather on the hilt. Shrine Maidens were forbidden from touching any weapon that was not consecrated to the Shrines. It went against everything she was taught. Slowly, reluctantly, she left the sword where it lay. It was possible she could have gotten some use from it, but it was forbidden. She pulled herself from the creek and dressed quickly, then returned to the path and began trotting towards the Shrine of the Stony Pool. The Shrine of the Stony Pool did not have the long, winding steps up a mountainside like the Ancient Pine or the one at Hitotsuna Shrine, but like the other Shrines, she was immediately accosted. ¡°You. Acolyte. I don¡¯t think I know you.¡± A Shrine Maiden greeted her coolly. ¡°My name is Moriko. I¡¯m an Acolyte of the Ancient Pine.¡± She introduced herself boldly, though she was weak on her feet. She¡¯d been nearly a week without food and scarcely any water. The Shrine maiden raised an eyebrow. ¡°An acolyte from another Shrine?¡± She asked curiously. ¡°I think a Priestess should hear your story.¡± She decided. ¡°You will need to disarm.¡± Moriko held out her utility knife and kaiken, and the Shrine Maiden gave her a nonplussed look. ¡°You expect me to believe that¡¯s all you carry?¡± She scoffed, but Moriko, exhausted, emaciated, and starving, collapsed in a faint at the woman¡¯s feet. Moriko awoke to the smell of soup and the humming of another woman. She was laying in a bed, and discovered that her Acolyte¡¯s clothes had been removed. ¡°Awake, I see.¡± The woman observed. She was middle-aged and human, and wore the coat of a Shrine Priestess. ¡°Acolytes are forbidden from leaving their Shrines.¡± The woman began. ¡°How did you come to be here?¡± Moriko summarized her trip from the ancient Pine, the bear, getting separated from the rest of her group, and deciding to travel onward to the Stony Pool. There were several subtle reactions and expressions from the Shrine Priestess when the expedition and the bear were mentioned, and another when Moriko relayed that she¡¯d made the decision to go on alone, but she couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of them. The Yamato placed a great deal of emphasis on paying attention to subtle changes in body language and expression as a whole, but Moriko herself wasn¡¯t schooled in what those things could mean. Still, she filed those reactions away in the back of her mind for later. ¡°It seems you¡¯ve had quite an ordeal.¡± The Priestess summarized after Moriko was finished. ¡°So what is to happen next?¡± Moriko asked. ¡°Well, to allay your concerns, I¡¯ll let you know that messages have been sent to the Shrine Priestesses of the Mountain Pine, and they¡¯ll be here soon to pick you up. As far as you¡¯re concerned, the next thing for you to do is to eat this soup and rest. When you wake up, I will check to see if you can eat something with a bit more substance.¡± She pointed to the soup and got up to leave. For a moment, it seemed as if she wanted to say something further, but instead she simply left the room. Moriko lifted the lid on the bowl of soup and grimaced, since it was simply broth. Still, it was better than nothing. She drank it, savoring the strong herbal flavor. The Priestess wanted her to rest, did she? Moriko instead decided that she¡¯d like to explore the Shrine of the Stony Pool a bit, since this was her first visit. She looked around for her sandals, but couldn¡¯t immediately see them. She was a bit lightheaded and dizzy, but that was likely because she¡¯d been without food for so long. She glanced around- surely they¡¯d left her her clothes nearby, at least, right? A wave of sleepiness washed over her, but she struggled against it. She wasn¡¯t tired. She didn¡¯t know how long she¡¯d been asleep, but surely it was long enough to rejuvenate her. She eyed her bed as a jaw-cracking yawn seemed to force its way out of her. Maybe a little nap wouldn¡¯t hurt. She fell asleep sitting upright. The Shrine Priestess eyed her from a crack in the door. ¡°Certainly stubborn, that one.¡± She remarked to the head Shrine Maiden of the Stony Pool. ¡°Lay her down and tuck her into bed. It will be a few days before the Ancient Pine arrive.¡± The Shrine Maiden nodded. Moriko at the Ancient Pine 6 A woman sat next to Moriko¡¯s simple bed made up of blankets on the woven mats. She was at once instantly familiar and yet unrecognizable to the young Yamato, her face shrouded in shadow. ¡°It seems you want to become a Shrine Maiden.¡± The woman mused in a low voice. ¡°Why is that?¡± Her voice held no mockery, only simple curiosity, as if whoever she was speaking with had no understanding of Shrine Maidens or their meaning. ¡°It¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever wanted.¡± Moriko replied. ¡°If you ask me for a reason why; I¡¯ve forgotten.¡± ¡°You could choose to be something else though, right?¡± The woman asked curiously. Moriko shook her head stubbornly. ¡°I want to be a Shrine Maiden.¡± ¡°Such a boring answer. Completely unwilling to entertain the idea of possibilities. You are a very boring person, Fujiwarahime-no-mikoto.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t call me that!¡± Moriko bolted upright in her bed furiously. ¡°That is not who I am!¡± ¡°Are you not? The Imperial blood certainly runs through your veins.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care about my blood!¡± Moriko exclaimed. ¡°I never cared!¡± She shouted in frustration. ¡°It¡¯s only brought me trouble.¡± She finally finished, and the woman chuckled. ¡°Blood certainly does cause problems. There are things in your blood that run deeper than the ties to the ancient land of Wa.¡± Moriko blinked in confusion at that. Wa was an ancient name for the lands of Yamato, before the Imperial Empress came, bringing the blood of the Dragon to them. ¡°Why do you want to be a Shrine Maiden, Moriko?¡± The woman repeated after a long silence. ¡°I want to be like everyone else. I don¡¯t want to be treated differently. I want to be able to make choices and have the strength to keep those choices from overwhelming me.¡± Moriko replied. ¡°You want to be strong?¡± The woman asked curiously. Moriko bobbed her head a little. ¡°Being strong means you have the freedom to make choices for yourself.¡± ¡°Be careful what you wish for, little princess. Strength always calls to strength.¡± Moriko opened her eyes to see the Shrine Priestess she¡¯d met earlier by her side. ¡°Sleep well?¡± The woman asked. ¡°Lots of dreams.¡± Moriko complained. The Priestess shrugged. ¡°Sometimes there¡¯s truth in dreams.¡± ¡°Strength always calls to strength.¡± Moriko repeated from her dream. The woman twitched, but nodded. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± She set out several bowls of food. The Priestess was a little surprised. ¡®Strength calls to strength¡¯ was a simple thought exercise for newly-raised Shrine Priestesses. It was a bit of a shock to hear it from an Acolyte on her pilgrimage to becoming a Shrine Maiden. ¡°What do you think it means, Acolyte Moriko of the Ancient Pine?¡± The Priestess asked. ¡°It¡¯s like the Shrines, I think.¡± Moriko began. ¡°The Shrine Priestesses tend to associate with their kind, the acolytes with the acolytes, the Maidens with the Maidens.¡± The Shrine Priestess passed the acolyte a pair of chopsticks and gestured at the food. ¡°You can talk while you eat.¡± Moriko dug in with a will, feeling as if she hadn¡¯t eaten in a year. ¡°Someone who is strong will draw those that are weak, and simultaneously push them away.¡± The Shrine Priestess offered. ¡°Being strong isolates you. Only the strong know what it¡¯s like to be strong, and so, being strong will draw others to you.¡± She paused. ¡°What weapon are you best with?¡± ¡°The bow.¡± Moriko replied. The Shrine Priestess nodded. ¡°Did you never draw the eyes of the envious because of your skill? Did others ever complain that they weren¡¯t nearly as good as you? Were there others that were better that you struggled to equal?¡± Moriko nodded. ¡°And eventually, a hierarchy is born where there once was none: the best bowmen are at the top, and the worst are at the bottom.¡± The Priestess eyed her. ¡°Disproportionate strength will isolate you and make you vulnerable. That¡¯s why we try to break up the cliques and hierarchies that tend to form in our Shrines when we can.¡± The woman smiled. ¡°Speaking of strength calling to strength, I¡¯ve arranged for you to meet the Kushinada-hime.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Moriko blinked a couple of times at this as she tried to chew her food with a mouth that didn¡¯t seem to want to work right. The Kushinada-hime was an old tale within the Shrines. A long time ago, back before the War of Liberation, there was a woman who was strong in the esoteric arts, who had bonded with her Shrine¡¯s kami. The kami was mercurial and fickle and forced her to wander around from place to place to satisfy its curiosity. At some point, the kami assumed a human form and consummated their relationship, a direct violation of the vows a Shrine Maiden took. With the consummation, the Shrine Maiden lost all of her powers, and in turn the kami was no longer able to assume a human form and dissipated. The Kushinadas that were born from her all had a deep, powerful connection to the kami, with many powers that were simply inaccessible to the Shrine Priestesses, so every generation, the Kushinada house dedicated a girl to the Shrines, and thus she became the Kushinada-hime-no-mikoto. Much like Moriko¡¯s situation, the Kushinada-hime was an irregularity amongst the other acolytes, shrine maidens, and shrine priestesses. She was given special dispensations because of her bloodlines. After making sure that Moriko had eaten every scrap of food, she was led through the shrine of the Stony Pool to the acolyte quarters, where she was presented to another girl, younger than herself, dressed in the same acolyte clothes as herself, but wearing a silken blindfold that was covered in wards. The girl looked up from her puzzle, and rose to her feet. ¡°Hello. You are an acolyte from the Ancient Pine, right?¡± the girl asked curiously. ¡°My name is Kaguya.¡± ¡°Moriko.¡± Moriko replied, uncertain how to address her. Kaguya, however, gave her a small smile. ¡°I appreciate you not addressing me by title. I¡¯m trying to be a very good acolyte.¡± Moriko snorted, and the girl chuckled in response. ¡°You¡¯re blind?¡± Moriko asked, but the girl shook her head. ¡°I see too much. The blindfold protects me.¡± ¡°I cannot see that as anything but strange.¡± Moriko replied, stepping further into the room. ¡°Can you explain?¡± ¡°Certainly. Would you care to help me with my puzzle?¡± The two girls worked on the puzzle, a thing of interlocking wood pieces. ¡°The world is a big place, and there are many things that most people cannot see.¡± Kaguya began. ¡°Unfortunately, I am forced to see everything, including the things I am not prepared to see... and the things I do not want to see. My mother has told me that when I am older, there may be a time when I can remove the blindfold, but unfortunately, the time isn¡¯t now.¡± ¡°So the blindfold...¡± ¡°Allows me only to see what I should see... like you.¡± Kaguya finished. She examined a piece of the puzzle with her fingertips, and then put it into place. ¡°It seems our time has come to an end. It was a pleasure to speak with you, Moriko of the Ancient Pine.¡± Moriko looked up, just as the Priestess reappeared. ¡°It seems the Priestesses of the Ancient Pine were very insistent to retrieve you, young Moriko.¡± The Stony Pool Priestess offered without any preamble. Moriko excused herself, and was escorted again through the shrine to where the Shrine Priestesses and Maidens from the Ancient Pine waited. ¡°You are no end of trouble.¡± the Eldest Priestess complained. ¡°Still, I suppose I should commend you for arriving here before us.¡± ¡°There was a bear.¡± Moriko pointed out flatly. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure you¡¯d like to think so.¡± The Eldest admonished. ¡°We will return to the Ancient Pine.¡± ¡°So soon?¡± The Priestess of the Stony Pool that had seen to Moriko¡¯s care spoke up. ¡°We haven¡¯t even shared tea.¡± ¡°There will be other opportunities. I have to get this one back to the Shrine.¡± The Priestesses made their apologies for the intrusion, promises to return, and the usual prayers for further meetings. The return trip was made in silence, as Moriko was forbidden from speaking until they arrived back at the Ancient Pine. ¡°The trip is a test¡±. One of the Shrine Priestess explained when they brought Moriko in. ¡°A judge of character. How you react to sudden danger, how you behave when cut off from the rest of the group.¡± Moriko swallowed. ¡°I failed, then.¡± The three Priestesses exchanged glances. ¡°Why would you say that?¡± ¡°I left my food, weapons, tools, all of it back at camp when the bear showed up. If I was truly ready, I would have used my sleeves as I should have.¡± The Eldest snorted. ¡°Certainly not enough to justify a fail. You made it to the Stony Pool on your own without assistance. You pass.¡± She deliberately didn¡¯t mention that Moriko had been intentionally separated from her bow before the other priestess used her magical arts to shapeshift into a bear. It wouldn¡¯t do, after all, for an acolyte to kill one of the Priestesses. ¡°There¡¯s one final test that¡¯s necessary before you move onto the path of the Shrine Maiden.¡± The Eldest began, and then added, ¡°You remember that you were only able to use a few, minor spells during your trip?¡± Moriko nodded. ¡°It¡¯s because you haven¡¯t communicated with your kami, which is understandable, because we don¡¯t know who your kami is. The first step is to commune with a kami and discover who is responsible for your rebirth. It¡¯s also possible that your soul is newly made, in which case you have no kami to watch over you... in which case, you should be able to swear to the Ancient Pine.¡± Moriko adopted a complicated expression. ¡°Must it be the Ancient Pine? There are many kami, after all.¡± The Eldest raised an eyebrow. ¡°Of all the kami, the Ancient Pine is the safest. Eleven is too incomprehensible. The Stony Pool is mercurial. The Spider is timid. The Mountain Cat of the Imperial Shrine was lost in the incident with the Kushinada-hime. The Mad Fox... well, her name should be enough for you. The Ancient Pine is reliable and safe.¡± Moriko folded her arms across her chest and lowered her head in thought. ¡°What of the Phoenix, or the Nameless Stone?¡± She asked after a bit. ¡°They¡¯re Originals, right?¡± The Priestesses eyed each other with bemused smiles. ¡°Nobody has ever been able to attract the Phoenix¡¯s attention, and the Nameless Stone refuses to act as a Patron. He will reincarnate you when you die, but he will not grant boons.¡± The youngest Priestess spoke up. ¡°It¡¯s wholly possible that you belong to the Ancient Pine already.¡± She paused, ¡°Or that you belong to a different kami altogether. If you belong to a kami that we have no knowledge of, then it¡¯ll fall to you to seek it out. Either way, this ritual will have you commune with the Ancient Pine. If you already belong to it, so much the better. If you belong to a different kami, it should tell you who you belong to. If you don¡¯t have a kami... I¡¯ll repeat that the Ancient Pine is the safest choice.¡± Moriko at the Ancient Pine 7 ¡°I¡¯ll take her to the Inner Shrine.¡± The Eldest offered, and rose gracefully despite her age, and gestured peremptorily for Moriko to follow. As an acolyte, the only thing Moriko knew about the Inner Shrine was that in times of danger- threats to the Shrine- all the Acolytes, Maidens, and Priestesses were to evacuate there as a final line of defense. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard much about the Inner Shrine.¡± Moriko volunteered in an attempt to break the strange silence as they moved deeper into the shrine itself, passing a myriad of closed doors with no explanation to what lay behind them. ¡°Did someone give you permission to speak, Acolyte?¡± The Shrine Priestess retorted. Moriko hung her head at this rebuke and the old woman chuckled. ¡°You¡¯ll likely end up spending a great deal of time here when you¡¯re ready to move up from the Maidens, but for now, understand that the Inner Shrine is where we commune with the Ancient Pine and that, should we ever be attacked, this is where we will retreat to. For now, that should be more than enough information for you.¡± When? ¡®When¡¯, and not ¡®if¡¯? Moriko wondered. Moriko suddenly collided with something she could not see, and fell backwards, instinct borne of endless training causing her to twist her body to adjust her fall properly. The elderly woman eyed Moriko. ¡°It seems an Acolyte has been training in Maiden techniques.¡± She murmured with an eyebrow raised and a small smile on her lips. Moriko wasn¡¯t certain how to respond, so she looked away. The elderly woman chuckled at her response. ¡°It¡¯s not something to be ashamed of. All of us, each of us do it.¡± The elderly woman encouraged gently. ¡°When we have learned how to be a proper acolyte, we strive for the next step, the Maiden. When you feel as though you have mastered your role as a Shrine Maiden, impatience will no doubt drive you to seek the deeper mysteries of the Priestess. Ambition, properly directed, is a powerful tool. Be certain to temper it with patience and humility.¡± the elderly woman explained with a calm and gravid dignity. Moriko nodded and rose to her feet and took a step forward and immediately bumped into something, some invisible barrier that would not let her pass. The Shrine Priestess folded her arms and watched curiously as Moriko, puzzled, explored the barrier with her hands. It was firm and unyielding, but not cool or slick like glass. ¡°What do you think it is?¡± She asked the Yamato girl. The girl looked up at the Shrine Priestess. ¡°It¡¯s a barrier.¡± The elderly woman nodded to herself. ¡°Yes, there are often barriers in our lives that block us from getting where we need to be.¡± the woman offered unhelpfully. Moriko¡¯s mouth twisted stubbornly. ¡°The Maiden response to a barrier is ¡®over, under, around, or through.¡± she stated testily. The Priestess nodded again, interested in how the young girl would approach the problem. Tests revealed the inner map of the mind, and for those who would live and worship in the shrine, it was very important to understand the depth, width, and breadth of the person you were dealing with. According to a Shrine Maiden Moriko had once spoken to, there were four ways to handle any barrier or obstruction. This was important to consider when on the battlefield, when behind enemy lines, when assaulting a fortress. ¡°Over, under, around, or through.¡± Moriko repeated, and the Priestesses eyes gleamed as Moriko probed the barrier with her hands. She looked up at the woman. ¡°You have something that allows you to pass through. Something that, without it, you could not.¡± The Eldest Priestess smiled warmly. ¡°When you get to be my age you will discover that having a key isn¡¯t necessary.¡± She reached into her sleeve, and pulled out an ofuda, a spell-slip, a strip of paper with ideograms drawn on it, and held it out to the young girl. ¡°But in your case, one is necessary.¡± She handed it to the girl, who examined the esoteric markings curiously. Some of it was written in the Yamato language, some of it was arcane loops, whorls, and jagged lines that zigzagged. The Shrine Priestess led Moriko past the barrier, and into another hallway, where she repeated what everyone already knew of the kami of the Ancient Pine. In a time long before Moriko was born, there had been a debate amongst the Yamato Shrine Priestesses as to whether or not the springs were the source of their kami, like the one that resided in their sister shrine to the west, the Shrine of the Stony Pool, or whether it was the tree itself, but in the end it was the Ancient Pine itself that had settled the debate by telling them that it was the first tree, the oldest tree, older than they were when the bones of the world were young. Who could argue with that? The tree held no interest in those that passed through it on their way to the Cycle of Rebirth. The tree wanted to plunge its roots deep into the earth and stretch its branches wide to catch the sun. The tree would provide rest, shelter, and peace to those that rested beneath its mighty boughs, but it had no care for the world of men and elves and beast-kin. It dreamed its slow tree dreams and existed in the tidal pull of sap running through its trunk and the passing of an infinity of seasons. An animal might sharpen its claws against its bark, but an animal lived only a few years while the patience of the tree was the patience of millenia. Animals and men alike would crumble to dust in the time it would take for the mighty tree to notice. Some chose the tree in one of their lives, knowing that the tree would endlessly offer their souls to the cycle of rebirth. Moriko herself wasn¡¯t certain if she had done so in a previous incarnation or if this was to be her first. In the pools of water at the base of the trunk of the tree, she would offer herself. If it was the first time, then forever after, in every life that came after hers, the tree would be her Patron. If at some point in time in the distant past she had already dedicated her soul to the Tree, she could, if she were very lucky, meet one or more of those incarnations and by reaffirming her commitments, she would be able to eventually unlock some of the secrets of power that the tree itself granted. If, in a previous life, she had dedicated herself to a different Patron, she would be allowed in the fullness of time to seek out that patron in order to continue her path. ***** After she had purified herself not once but an additional twelve times, Moriko was finally allowed past the final barrier, where she would confront the Ancient Pine itself. There were a number of pools and springs that collected there; she was free to visit whichever she preferred, but if she had chosen the tree, or if she hadn¡¯t yet gained a Patron, she would swear herself. If she belonged to a different Patron, then it fell to her to seek it out if she wanted to move onward towards becoming a Shrine Priestess. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! The pools that surrounded the base of the tree varied in size from large puddles to the size of basins in which several people could bathe. With the construction of the Shrine around the base of the Ancient Pine, it created an artificial grotto of sorts, a thick roof of heavy planks of wood, the pools of water scattered throughout the place, and the massive roots of the giant tree that was so gargantuan it was impossible to see even the lowermost branches. It was explained to Moriko that while in one of the pools, there was a possibility that she might meet a fragment of what she once was, a sliver of memory, an experience so profound it transcended the Cycle. Even more rare, it might even be possible to encounter her Origin, the original soul she had been born with. Some considered encountering their past selves disturbing, uncomfortable, or even offensive. Others espoused the idea that it was important to be flexible. What you had done, who you had been in a previous life was important to understand, but the ¡®you¡¯ that existed then was nothing more than the accumulation of decisions and choices and experiences from that part of your Cycle. Understand them, appreciate them, use them as tools; stepping stones on the path to greater heights of wisdom. As Moriko stepped into the grotto, a cold, authoritarian voice rang out. ¡°I am Authority. I command, and it is so. When the Empress speaks, she speaks with my voice. All bend to my will, for I have commanded it.¡± Moriko would have considered the voice mockingly arrogant, but It spoke with a persuasive strength and utter conviction that it was hard for her to deny it. A woman lurked in one of the steamy pools. Moriko frowned. It was explained to her that there would be no one else visiting them during this ritual. She had no weapon with which to defend herself, but no acolyte, maiden, or priestess was unarmed, even naked as she was. She settled into a relaxed stance; deceptive in appearance, it was a Passive Art that relied on flexibility of the body and an elastic mind; a defensive art that would immediately use the opponent¡¯s strength, momentum, and attack against them. ¡°Who are you?¡± Moriko demanded as the steam billowed up, thick and slightly acidic from the minerals. ¡°Am I you? Are you me?¡± The woman responded cryptically. ¡°Isn¡¯t that a pointless question in a place like this?¡± Moriko grimaced, and waved her arm, trying to disperse the steam so that she could see the woman better. As the steam cleared, the woman that was revealed was strange indeed. While she shared some traits with the Yamato, her hair was glossy black, but what looked to be antlers sprouted from her temples, sweeping straight back. Her eyes were amber-colored, and there was a spray of tiny glittering scales at her temples. Her eyes were serpentine, with slit pupils, and her ears, though pointed like a Yamato or an elven person, were shaped differently from hers. ¡°I don¡¯t know you.¡± Moriko stated flatly. ¡°Know yourself.¡± The woman retorted. Her voice was smooth and cultured, with an unfamiliar accent Moriko couldn¡¯t place. The girl frowned as her frustrations mounted. ¡°I do not have patience for inscrutable witticisms.¡± A subtle smile appeared on the woman¡¯s face. What was it? Smugness? Arrogance? The recognition of an equal? Understanding. ¡°I have worn many faces and names.¡± The woman finally said. ¡°Mother, daughter, lover...¡± She paused, and her subtle smile grew. ¡°Murderer, betrayer, monster;¡± Her eyes closed, and she raised her hands a little. ¡°Conqueror, refugee... and Empress.¡± She opened her eyes and looked into Moriko¡¯s own. ¡°Now I wear your face and carry your name.¡± Her face settled into one of infinite patience. ¡°Now do you see the inanity of your question?¡± She asked, and Moriko clamped her lips shut and rolled her eyes. ¡°I was told I might meet a part of myself from before.¡± Moriko acknowledged, and the woman nodded. ¡°Names are precious things, full of power.¡± The woman admitted. ¡°In my time, we were given a public name, a family name, and a personal name. I had many public names. I was known as Warlady of the Jadescales; Twenty-first Seat of the Synod; Seventh Seat of the Senate; Glory the Gemweaver; Glory the Anointed Mask; Acolyte Glory of the Dragon¡¯s Fang; Glory the Morningtide...¡± She trailed off. ¡°They¡¯re all so inconsequential, now.¡± Her gaze returned to Moriko. ¡°My family name was Jadescale, the seventh clan of Kayelinth The Firebringer. My personal name was ¡®Alba¡¯.¡± Moriko stiffened as one of the names clicked home for her. Glory the Morningtide. The woman that had brought the Blood of the Dragon to the Yamato. A woman who had brought both salvation and unsurpassed cruelty to the Yamato. The Dragon Empress. The woman¡¯s eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Moriko¡¯s reaction. Her eyes were so cold and calculating, and yet filled with life. She touched her lips with a fingertip meditatively. ¡°Ah, but you have not named yourself.¡± The woman challenged coyly. ¡°My name is... Moriko.¡± She offered. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± The woman prompted curiously. Moriko sighed, and gave her full, formal name, thoroughly the whole source of trouble the entirety of her life. ¡°A name I am as unfamiliar with as you are with mine. Shall we continue with ¡®Moriko¡¯, then?¡± The woman offered generously, and Moriko relaxed a little. ¡°You may address me as Alba.¡± She gestured to the steaming pool. ¡°Join me, if it pleases you. I permit you to speak freely.¡± She added the last in a haughty, commanding tone used to being obeyed by those who were beneath her. After a contemplative moment, Moriko shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know you. I don¡¯t know what you are. I don¡¯t think I will join you.¡± Alba Jadescale lifted a sculpted eyebrow gracefully. ¡°We covered this already: I am you, and you are me. I am me, and you are me.¡± The woman with amber eyes replied, stepping to the edge of the pool, water streaming from her body. With her in the pool and Moriko standing on the edge, they stood eye to eye, those lizard-slit pupils staring into Moriko¡¯s almond-shaped eyes. ¡°If I have been reborn in you, then....¡± The woman trailed off ambiguously. ¡°I wonder what purpose lies before you.¡± ¡°Purpose? I don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Moriko complained. The woman smirked at that response. "We all have a purpose. We all bring it to those we meet, and those that serve us. For me, I loved my nation. The Ten Clans of the Dragon. Its people. Its majesty and wonders. Its art and wisdom, its decadence. And then my eyes were opened to the corruption and decay rotting its heart." She stared off into space and Moriko could feel the woman¡¯s memories seeping into hers. A massive city-state on a plateau that overlooked the entire continent. "The nation is mother and father to us. And if you find your mother raped or your father beaten and robbed, before you call for the guards or begin an investigation, you cover their nakedness. Because you love them." She whispered sadly. She lowered her gaze to Moriko and locked her eyes with the young girl. ¡°To protect the pride of my nation, I had to allow that country to burn. To protect my family, I chose the path of exile myself. By right of my blood, I conquered the disparate Yamato factions and united them under my banner.¡± The woman leaned into Moriko¡¯s space to peer into the girl¡¯s twelve-year-old eyes. ¡°I wonder what atrocities you will commit for the sake of pride, for the sake of family, for the sake of your blood.¡± Moriko immediately rolled her eyes with a scoff. ¡°That might have been true for you, but I am not bound by such things.¡± She moved to push past the other woman, but the horned woman seized her arm. The woman known to the Yamato as Glory the Morningtide glared into Moriko¡¯s eyes. ¡°I did not survive long after the subjugation of what you call the Yamato lands, but it was I who brought the Dragonblood to them.¡± She declared. Moriko gave her a baffled look while struggling to free herself of the woman¡¯s iron grip. ¡°That blood should run through your veins as well. Shall we awaken it?¡± Glory asked in a voice that was a mixture of curiosity and daring. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about!¡± Moriko shouted. There should have been no problem twisting free of the woman¡¯s grip, but strangely, bafflingly, her arm refused to move properly. Moriko, with increasing insistence, tugged her fingers free from the other woman¡¯s grip. ¡°You died thousands of years ago.¡± She insisted. ¡°I am a Shrine Maiden, and I have no family but the Shrine.¡± Glory considered the girl for a moment. Moriko was a slip of a girl, scarcely become a woman. She settled her feet. This wouldn¡¯t take long at all. Glory suddenly lashed out; Moriko reacted instantly, hand blurring to block the knifelike thrust of the legendary tyrant¡¯s hand, but it lanced forward towards Moriko¡¯s ribs before she could react- Moriko at the Ancient Pine 8 Moriko stared at the arm sticking through her chest, shock dumping adrenaline through her body. ¡°What-¡± She gasped. ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt, does it?¡± Glory murmured. ¡°Getting punched in the chest by a ghost.¡± ¡°...no.¡± Moriko observed with shocked wonder. ¡°It doesn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Listen.¡± Glory insisted, digging her ghostly fingers into Moriko¡¯s heart. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time together, you and I. The Cycle will permit me this one meeting, so it¡¯s important to me that you listen to me.¡± She jerked her spectral hand from Moriko¡¯s chest. ¡°Your abstemious nature is... so strange to me.¡± Glory remarked curiously as Moriko¡¯s life in the Shrine of the Ancient Pine seeped into the other woman¡¯s mind. ¡°It must be very lonely for you and your Shrine Maidens. I cannot help but wonder how many sticky fingers and messy bedsheets there must be in such a place.¡± She teased. ¡°I am tired of your insinuations and insults. If you-¡± Moriko began, but Glory cut her off with an impatient sigh. ¡°You hear, but you don¡¯t listen. You listen, but you don¡¯t understand. My words go into one ear and right out the other side. I cannot help but mock a fool that is willfully ignorant.¡± She complained, shooting Moriko an arrogant look. ¡°What is it that I¡¯m expected to understand?¡± Moriko asked, exasperated. Glory smiled gently, warmly at Moriko. ¡°The blood of the dragon flows through your veins as it does mine. It will bring you no peace.¡± Moriko stood up in the pool, the water sluicing off her immature form. ¡°We are finished here, I think.¡± Glory laughed. ¡°Were you not warned? Did nobody tell you the dangers of being touched by a spirit?¡± Moriko gaped at the woman as a sudden numb coldness spread in her chest. A wave of exhaustion and dizziness washed over her, and she staggered and lost her footing in the pool of water. Glory loomed over her. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right.¡± She nodded. ¡°The touch of the dead is a death sentence. If you don¡¯t light your own fire you will die here, princess.¡± ¡°...what?¡± Moriko gasped, struggling to breathe. Her arms, where she¡¯d grappled with Glory before, were numb and limp and useless. Her heart struggled to beat in her chest. ¡°Light your fire.¡± Glory urged. ¡°There is a rage in your breast, is there not? A fury?¡± ¡°...is...¡± Moriko mumbled loosely. ¡°Breathe in the life of this place, warm it in the fires of your heart, and breathe out your flame. Only then will you survive.¡± Her voice dropped a little and a certain hungry urgency entered her voice, even as she gently embraced the young Yamato girl. ¡°Here, let me help you.¡± ***** The Ancient Pine did not care for the world around it in the traditional sense. It had no reason to care for what armies of men might crawl upon its surface like ants. Men and women and elves and all the rest died, crumbled to ash, were reborn, only to die and be reborn, again and again and again in an endless cycle. Only the world was eternal. Only the sun was eternal. Only the simple tree-dreams were eternal. Except something had happened. Slowly, ponderously, in the comfortable, eternal peace of its thoughts, things began to take shape. A thing, an event, unforeseen, unheard of, unthinkable. A tree with no voice found itself in need of one. Fire, something it thought long immune to seared in the fissures of its bark, ran up its mighty trunk and devoured a massive branch, greedily chewing through thousands of years of unhindered, uninterrupted growth. It was an old branch, scarcely alive compared to its mighty trunk, nothing in comparison to the much younger, higher, stronger branches above, but the pain was real. The fire was real. Urgently, it severed its connections to the branch and allowed it to fall, and for the very first time in its very long existence, it began to pay attention to the tiny people that had built themselves shelters of wood and stone under the shade of its mighty branches. ***** Moriko gasped and choked; her vision dimmed, wavering as if she were drowning. She struggled to move her limbs, to swim for the surface. Her heart was an icy stone in her chest, and one of her arms wouldn¡¯t move right. You have something, right? A goal, a reason to live, a need to keep going, no matter what, no matter the cost, right? Something that will keep you on your feet even as you die, something that screams and rejects the world, right? All my life I have been raised to live in harmony with the world. Yes, but you and I know that the world is cruel in its indifference. It¡¯s overwhelmingly unfair in how fair it is. To live is to stand in defiance of death. To exist is to defy the world. Shout your heart at the world and demand that it be so! I can¡¯t, it¡¯s so cold. There is life here, is there not? The secret of the Dragon. Breathe in the life of the world into your lungs. Heat it in the fires of your heart, and breathe out your unwavering defiance! But what if- If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Don¡¯t worry. I am you, and you are me. We are one, now. We have always been one. Now... breathe. A searing feeling of heat and anger swelled in her chest, seemingly breaking the thaw that had settled in her chest, allowing her to take a second frantic breath. She coughed and choked again, burning embers spitting from between her lips. Feeling was returning to her body, she took a ragged third breath and breathed out a streak of flame. A sizzling streak of flame raced up the trunk of the mighty pine, striking embers against the thick armor of the trunk. It slammed into a branch in a coruscating shower of sparks and swallowed the branch whole. ***** Alba Jadescale; Glory the Morningtide, spoke one more time in Moriko¡¯s mind as Moriko struggled to drag herself away from the trunk of the Ancient Pine, coughing and choking on smoke she couldn¡¯t see. Her fading voice was punctuated with a splintering crash as a massive branch from the Ancient Pine snapped and fell on part of the Inner Temple, blazing as if it had been doused in oil and set alight, boiling with fire, crushing the rooftop, scattering globules of burning pitch and tufts of flaming needles in every direction. Shouts were raised, alarms rang, Shrine Maidens rushed to quench the blaze as the Shrine Priestesses used their ofuda to magically snuff the fires as they were found. Moriko could only stand and gape in numb shock at the catastrophe. A branch of the ancient Pine had broken off? It was burning? How could this have happened? What did this portend? Moriko staggered back to where her robe lay on the steps leading into the Inner Temple. She took long, slow breaths to steady herself. Glory had awakened something within Moriko, something that Moriko had only once experienced before: a mortal terror for her own life. There was always a sense of danger, of risk, in her training. You could become wounded as you learned your weapons, as you struggled with the other acolytes in the martial arts, but there was always supervision. The wounded were quickly tended to. Fear was important for the training, for the lessons learned, but there had never been a sense of fundamental, mortal terror that seized the heart in icy bands. Moriko had learned the sudden, suffocating sense of mortal terror that overwhelmed the senses and strangled the breath in the lungs... and had come out the other side. She wrapped her robe around her and hugged it tight against the chill that trickled ice down her spine. She¡¯d had no idea what it was like to feel that way. Discipline. Focus. Concentration. Put away unimportant things and pay attention. Her visit with Glory had opened her eyes in a way that the trip to the Stony Pool had not. There had been an academic understanding of the world outside of the shrines, but Glory¡¯s experiences and memories, briefly glimpsed, now fading into incomprehensible dreamstuff that would eventually be forgotten, had showed her that there was a whole world of possibilities out there. Moriko knew the founding legends of the Yamato. Two islands, one populated with elves, the other with humans. A plague that had forced them to unite their strengths or die. Then Glory the Morningtide had arrived, bringing the blood of the Dragon. Humans thought of the Yamato as elves, the elves thought of the Yamato as flawed, human-blooded mockeries of elves, but the Yamato were more than that. They didn¡¯t just carry the ancestry of elves or humans in their blood, they carried the noble blood of the Dragon in their veins. When the Anglish encountered them, they¡¯d demanded, ¡°Are you elves?¡± And the Yamato had answered flatly, truthfully... fruitlessly. ¡°No. We are the Yamato.¡± And there was something else, as well: She took a deep breath, imagining a great, angry furnace of fire in her chest and breathed out... a few sparks and embers. The woman in her dreams, the woman she now recognized as the first Empress of the Yamato could breathe fire. The best Moriko could hope for was a few paltry sparks and embers, but now she knew, truly understood the depth of the separation between herself and the other acolytes. They had given her flexibility and leeway because she was abandoned royalty, left on the steps of the Imperial Shrine, evidence of a forbidden tryst, a scandal hidden away. She¡¯d struggled to deny her heritage. She was not royalty. She was not special. She neither needed nor wanted special dispensation. She was of the Shrine. She was an acolyte in a sea of acolytes. She would be a Shrine Maiden in a sea of Shrine Maidens. She¡¯d told herself these things over and over again, that being a Shrine Maiden was all she wanted. But now things had changed. The dragon was awake in her blood and behind her eyelids, coiled in her guts and sizzling in her nerves. I want to be a Shrine Maiden. A voice taunted her in the back of her mind, redolent in the smooth, dulcet tones of Glory: Are you sure that¡¯s all you want? ***** ¡°You! Moriko, are you okay?¡± The Eldest Priestess asked, a smear of ash on her cheek, one of the sleeves on her robe dotted with pinhole burns. Moriko blinked, coming back to herself. ¡°What happened?!¡± She exclaimed urgently, taking in the smoke and coughing a little. ¡°We¡¯re trying to learn that right now.¡± The harried woman informed the girl. ¡°As it stands, the Acolytes have been gathered and moved to safety; I¡¯ll have you join them.¡± Moriko waited in the room prepared for the Acolytes, listening to them voice their fears and concerns. They huddled together for comfort, waiting for answers. Moriko was silent; too much had happened much too quickly and her mind was occupied with trying to process it all. ***** A week later, the Maidens were rebuilding the demolished parts of the Inner Temple. A Shrine was self-sufficient, and the reconstruction of a damaged part of a shrine could only be performed by members of the shrine, anyway. Moriko had been part of the reconstruction effort herself. One evening, the Eldest Shrine Priestess invited Moriko to tea. ¡°Did you meet one of your past selves?¡± The Priestess asked curiously as Moriko stepped into the Priestess¡¯ office, where the eldest Shrine Priestess waited, seated formally, a patient expression on her wizened face. Moriko blinked at the question, and the Shrine Priestess smiled and reminded the newly minted Shrine Maiden that it was possible to meet one of her past selves in her dedication ritual. ¡°I met her.¡± Moriko growled, her hands in tight fists. The Priestess nodded thoughtfully.. ¡°It¡¯s very rare to meet one. Was she your Origin? Did she give her name? Can we look her up in our archives?¡± Moriko frowned at the question, and the older woman raised an eyebrow at the fire in Moriko¡¯s eyes. ¡°Must I? Must you?¡± She demanded, and she could feel tears pricking at her eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t think I like her very much.¡± The Priestess laughed a little, but it was a bitter laugh, heavy with sympathy. ¡°I, too, did not like who I had been. But with each new turn of the cycle, we improve.¡± She paused. ¡°It¡¯s important to know who we were just as much as it is to know who we are, so that we may then strive to be who we will become.¡± She laid a comforting hand on Moriko¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Think of someone out there in the world, dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of years in the future. Think of what they might see in you, when they meet themselves.¡± Moriko frowned, but behind her lips, the Dragon smiled. ***** Under normal circumstances, Shrine Maidens were not often allowed into the presence of the Ancient Pine. Prayers were usually done simply, discreetly, with a small sliver of wood that had been carefully chiseled from the tree and fashioned into a protective amulet. For larger prayers there was a shrine built from wood culled from the Ancient Pine itself. Though the Ancient Pine gave out powers, it didn¡¯t respond to prayers for guidance or wisdom. Lately, however, a sprig of new growth from the massive tree bulged appreciably from one of the titanic roots, a tiny pine tree with the delicate, fragile green of spring on its needles. The Shrine Priestesses and Maidens often stopped by from time to time to pray and pay respect to the budding new growth. The End of the World The girl that emerged from the midnight ocean seemed to have traits from all the races and yet none of them. She was slim, delicately beautiful in an elven sort of way, pale, her tattered clothing hanging dripping from her body limply. Her eyes were a pupilless mix of electric blue and brilliant pink masses that oozed and shifted and swirled. Her skin was covered in a thin network of silver traces, and sprouting from her temples and sweeping back were a pair of metal horns or antlers. Scraps of seaweed dangled from them, as well as her shoulders, though she made no move to pull them off. She looked around, as if expecting to see someone step from the shadows, and indeed, as if called, one of the shadows coalesced into a woman with brilliant golden eyes, straight black hair, and an immaculate black kimono. ¡°It has been some time since I¡¯ve seen you.¡± The woman in the kimono appraised, tapping a finger against her lips thoughtfully. She caught the other¡¯s gaze, and the woman in the kimono spread her arms wide. ¡°Do you like it?¡± and did a graceful twirl. ¡°Have you been given a name? I was. Kuroyuki.¡± Still, the horned woman didn¡¯t say a thing, which caused the kimono-wearing woman to pout dramatically. ¡°You never were one for words.¡± She complained. She folded her hands at her waist. ¡°I¡¯m assuming that since you¡¯ve awakened me from my sleep, that the time has come?¡± PLEASE WAIT. The voice called from on high, and what was once the dark of midnight suddenly became as noon as a brilliant ball of radiant energy seemed to appear as if from nowhere, descending from the sky with stately grace. ¡°Who are you that I-¡± The woman in the kimono began rudely, but immediately caught herself. ¡°You.¡± she spat with loathing upon recognizing the third woman. ¡°You have no authority here.¡± The third woman radiated a brilliant light that roiled off her body like brilliant particles of glowing smoke. She had six wings that blazed with the divine power of the sun¡¯s fiery heat. Her hair was honey and amber, her eyes emerald chips. She carried herself with the unmistakable authority of a queen. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°I¡¯M QUITE AWARE OF THAT.¡± some of the brilliant, hazy smoke that wafted from the woman resolved itself into a woman¡¯s face, and just as quickly disappeared again. ¡°Then speak your piece and leave.¡± The Yamato woman in the kimono stated flatly, dangerously. ¡°I KNOW WHAT YOU INTEND. I¡¯M ASKING YOU TO WAIT.¡± ¡°Wait? For what? And why should we wait for the likes of you?¡± The woman in the kimono disputed hotly. ¡°NOT FOR ME. FOR THE SOULS WITHIN ME.¡± Kuroyuki blinked at that. The horned woman said nothing at all. ¡°WITH INANNA GONE, SOMEONE HAD TO TAKE CUSTODY OF THEM. I HAVEN¡¯T FIGURED OUT HOW TO RELEASE THEM INTO THE CYCLE YET.¡± ¡°You-¡± Kuroyuki snarled. ¡°Do you think you can stop what must be done?¡± The horned woman spoke up, then. ¡°I CAN¡¯T STOP IT, BUT I CAN ASK YOU TO WAIT. PLEASE.¡± The Champion of Inanna waved her hand, and a familiar figure appeared. Kuroyuki gasped and covered her mouth. ¡°To think you would resort to this... this... affrontery-¡± Kuroyuki began, her eyes blazing with fury. ¡°IT¡¯S NOT MY FAULT. SHE STARTED PRAYING TO ME FOR WISDOM AND GUIDANCE ON HER OWN. YOU THINK I WANTED THIS?¡± Kuroyuki looked at the horned woman, and then back at the celestial. ¡°You want to delay the inevitable.¡± ¡°GIVE ME TIME TO RELEASE THESE SOULS PROPERLY. ONCE THAT¡¯S DONE, DO AS YOU WILL.¡± The Yamato woman blinked a couple of times at this simple declaration. ¡°And my mother?¡± She asked, her voice low and dangerous. ¡°I¡¯M NOT SURE. SHE CHOSE TO WORSHIP ME, EVEN IF SHE DIDN¡¯T KNOW WHAT IT MEANT AT THE TIME. IT MIGHT BE HARD FOR ME TO RELEASE HER.¡± ¡°Fine. We will wait. For a little while.¡± Kuroyuki decided. Daveth at Hitotsuna Shrine Strange, to see a row of stone steps on the mountainside. Was he seeing things from blood loss? He looked up; the stairs seemed to climb forever. He nodded to himself. ¡°If I climb those stairs, I¡¯ll die.¡± He said to himself, and struggled across the stairs, clutching his belly. Blood dripped and splashed. He slipped, and as he fell he threw out his hand to steady himself, but instead he caught nothing but air, and tumbled down the slope. He fetched up against a mammoth boulder. He grimaced, blood leaking between his fingers. He looked up at the stone, hoping there was perhaps something to grab hold of, and to his surprise there seemed to be a thick rope running about the equator. He reached out and grabbed it; it seemed real, with a tough, fibrous texture. He hauled himself up, but his left leg felt weak and loose and unresponsive. He released the rope and fell. ¡°Shit.¡± He whispered, and then he grinned with a frantic desperation. ¡°Finally.¡± He closed his eyes, and rolled onto his back. A cool breeze blew, and a light, misty rain began to fall. A vague sense of relief stole over him. ¡°Oi, human.¡± A low voice at his side. ¡°Open your eyes and look at me, child of man.¡± The voice demanded coolly. He opened his eyes, and a young girl stared back at him haughtily. Her eyes were the color of her hair, and her hair was a brilliant lustrous gold that fell in straight lines, framing her face. ¡°You are not of this village.¡± She remarked. It didn¡¯t seem to be a question. ¡°And you wear the trappings of war.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°You are a soldier, no? A warrior? One who kills in battle.¡± He was losing strength, and his vision was dimming. ¡°Oi, human. I did not give you permission to die just yet.¡± She slapped him, and the world seemed to snap back into focus. ¡°Wha-¡± He tried to ask. ¡°Answer my questions, human. You are not of this village.¡± He nodded. Her eyebrow quirked. ¡°You are a warrior?¡± He nodded again, and a corner of her mouth twitched. ¡°Hmmm.¡± She remarked thoughtfully. ¡°Do you wish to die, human?¡± She asked, finally. ¡°There is a struggle within you. Part of you wishes to live. Part of you wishes to die.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°Answer me. If you wish to die, then I will give you leave to do so. If you wish to live however, I will do what I can, but only if you give up this foolish notion of wanting to die. I will not waste my powers.¡± Her eyes moved. ¡°You have lost a lot of blood. Your life hangs by a thread, human. Answer me quickly.¡± The world dimmed. vaguely he could feel the impact of her second slap, but he could not register any sensation of pain. Her dry, acerbic voice was muffled and faint. The world grew dark. There was a feeling of being tossed about, as if he were on the desk of a ship in the middle of a heavy storm. Do you want to die? her acerbic tone, faint. I want to die. Did he say that? If you die now, I- a new voice, familiar. Who was it? brown hair, a quick smile. I am ready. Yes, he was ready. He was more than ready, since that time in the snow years ago; bodies heaped atop bodies. Do not let him die. He knew that voice. Who was it? You presume to tell me..? that acerbic voice from the blonde girl, again. Please. A great sigh of frustration, as if a thousand summer breezes blew through a thousand forests on a thousand summer days, all at once. He opened his eyes. Thick beams crisscrossed overhead. ¡°I should not have helped him.¡± ¡°Come now, Shizuka-sama. Surely you did the right thing!¡± A young female voice argued. ¡°He should not be here.¡± The dry voice of the young girl from before replied. ¡°What¡¯s more concerning is his wounds. Where did he get them?¡± A tisk of frustration. ¡°The beastmen are about again, most likely.¡± A short intake of breath. ¡°I see.¡± ¡°What are you looking at me for, human? It falls to you to fulfill your duty to the shrine and cleanse the land of their corruption.¡± ¡°Ehh? I''m not ready, though.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the only one who can, human. They are outside the boundary stones of the shrine.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never had to fight before.¡± ¡°You have trained, human.¡± ¡°That¡¯s different!¡± ¡°Not so.¡± He raised his hand and flexed it in front of his face. His strength seemed to be returning. He glanced around. He was in a plain, featureless room, with woven mats on the floor. There was a simple blanket over him. Off to the side there was a small pile of pouches and bags and bundles; his gear. He sat up, and took stock of himself. He seemed to have been healed. He was hungry, but a hot meal would fix that. He took off the shirt he was wearing, and reached into his pack and pulled out another and pulled that one on. He stood, and from another pouch pulled out a simple leather vest; over that he slipped his heavy leather cloak with a bear-fur collar and draped that over his shoulders, and found a battered hat that he jammed haphazardly on his head. He took his time getting everything squared away, and he shouldered his pack and took a step towards the door. The door slid open, and the little blonde girl came in. She wore a simple purple kimono with a flower print. Her golden eyes turned up to his. ¡°Oh, up and about, I see. Where do you think you are going?¡± ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡± Daveth replied. ¡°Do you think I would let you?¡± She asked, looking up at him. He frowned thoughtfully. ¡°Do you think you could stop me?¡± He asked, and she grinned widely, displaying teeth. ¡°Depends on whether you want food or not, human.¡± He laughed, and she joined in. ¡°Yeah, I could use some food.¡± He replied, and she nodded. ¡°Meiko!¡± She barked. ¡°Our guest has awakened. Fetch some food.¡± She looked up at him thoughtfully. ¡°Come along, human, I will show you to the dining hall.¡± She slipped out the door gracefully, long hair swishing with each step. ¡°I have a name, you know?¡± He asked. She turned, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. ¡°Is that so?¡± She asked. He nodded. She shrugged. ¡°Since you have not introduced yourself, I have no way of knowing it.¡± She replied casually. ¡°Daveth.¡± He replied, and he could see her mouth shape the syllables. ¡°The dining hall is there, human. Try not to scare Meiko overmuch.¡± She stated, and slipped her hands in her sleeves. ¡°You¡¯re not human.¡± He remarked, and her eyes slid to him. ¡°Oh? is that so?¡± She asked. He nodded. She shrugged. ¡°Perhaps.¡± A young girl appeared at the other end of the hall, dressed in a white jacket and red pants. ¡°Ah, good. Meiko.¡± the blonde announced, and glided over towards her. ¡°Have a seat, human, and we shall bring you food.¡± she called as she approached the other girl. There was a long, low table, with cushions evenly placed along the sides. Any seat was functionally no different from any other, so he seated himself towards the end because he liked the flower decorations in the low basket in the center of that portion of the table, and noticed that both girls were watching him. The blonde had a small smile on her face as she helped the other one with the trays of dishes. ¡°Shizuka-sama, you shouldn¡¯t.¡± Meiko urged at the girl as she took a tray of bowls from the cart. ¡°Nonsense, girl. Who else is here to do so? Besides, I am hungry too.¡± Shizuka seated herself gracefully, and passed him various bowls as Meiko did the same, sitting next to her. ¡°This is potatoes and carrots. This is chicken, cooked in peppers, onions, and oils.¡± Shizuka announced to contents of each dish as she handed them to him. ¡°Beans, boiled, buttered, and salted.¡± ¡°Salted?¡± He asked, and her hand stopped and her eyes moved to his face. ¡°Yes. Is there a problem?¡± She asked. ¡°Salt is very expensive.¡± He remarked, and she smiled, but shook her head. ¡°Only inland is it expensive. We are not terribly far from the coast, and humans bring offerings in exchange for amulets and charms of protection.¡± Daveth, aware of their eyes on him, carefully picked up his chopsticks, and began to eat. Meiko and Shizuka eyed him for a moment. ¡°You use them well, human.¡± Daveth nodded. ¡°I once served with a couple of Yamato archers. They taught me well.¡± he laughed a little. ¡°Now tell me of these beastmen.¡± Meiko opened her mouth in shock, and then closed it. Shizuka glanced at her, and frowned a little. ¡°It is not a matter for you, human. This is a Yamato matter.¡± He smiled a little. ¡°So I can¡¯t take revenge for the hole in my gut they gave me?¡± He asked, and Shizuka¡¯s mouth twisted. ¡°Ah! If Daveth-dono were to handle the beastmen, then I would not have to!¡± Shizuka suddenly piped up in a cheerful voice, shooting a glance at Meiko. ¡°-Is what you were thinking, girl. Don¡¯t think I cannot notice something so plainly written on your face.¡± Shizuka remarked in her acerbic tone. ¡°I would ask that you not interfere, human.¡± She said, directing this to Daveth. ¡°This is Meiko¡¯s trial.¡± She glanced at him. ¡°You seem well-traveled, human. Know you of the Yamato Shrine Maidens?¡± She asked. He nodded. Shizuka nodded back sagely. ¡°Shrine Maidens exist within the lands as servants and stewards, purifying it of taint and corruption.¡± She took a drink of her tea. ¡°Well, part of it is ritual. Part of it is combat. Up until now, Meiko has not engaged in combat, but make no mistake, it is part of her responsibility.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Well, for a Shrine Maiden, combat is in itself a ritual of sorts.¡± Daveth nodded. ¡°Makes sense. I assume you speak of magical corruption? Mutation, and things of that nature?¡± He asked, and she nodded. ¡°You are perceptive. Yes. Magic is part of the land, but it can taint and poison the land. The Yamato-jinja exist to stabilize and purify the land wherever corruption arises.¡± ¡°Jinja?¡± he asked, and she nodded. ¡°The yamato word for shrine, or temple.¡± She took a breath. ¡°You are currently in the Araya-jinja of the fishing village Hitotsuna. It was not originally intended to be a Yamato village, but many Yamato came here before the War of Liberation to venerate and protect their Seer, Araya.¡± He¡¯d been here before. Back before- He cut the thought off before it could complete itself. He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with that name.¡± He mentioned, and Shizuka nodded. ¡°As expected of an outsider. Well, I¡¯m not surprised you have not heard of Araya. She was a powerful diviner, a dreamer of dreams and a seer of visions. She came here hundreds of years ago, and many Yamato came with her.¡± She gestured at Meiko. ¡°Meiko here is the last surviving descendant of Araya, though as incompetent as she is, you wouldn¡¯t know it.¡± Meiko grumbled. ¡°You don¡¯t need to go that far, Shizuka-sama.¡± ¡°You should stop moping about, then, and face your responsibilities.¡± Shizuka chided. Daveth stroked his beard and tapped a finger against his lips thoughtfully. ¡°If you like, I could supervise. There are quite a few beastmen, after all. If she¡¯s as inexperienced as you say, I could support her.¡± Shizuka¡¯s eyebrows rose. ¡°I had not considered...¡± She trailed off. Daveth took a breath. ¡°Beastmen are fearsome creatures alone. If there¡¯s more than one, she¡¯s going to be overwhelmed quickly. She¡¯ll need the help.¡± He smirked a little. ¡°And I have a debt to repay.¡± Shizuka¡¯s eyes slid to his face, and then back to Meiko¡¯s. ¡°So you are aware that there is a debt. I am pleased that you would want to make reparation.¡± She replied. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to me like I¡¯m an idiot.¡± He remarked sharply. ¡°And I¡¯m offering to help. If there¡¯s a stricture, or a taboo, I understand, but...¡± He trailed off. Shizuka gave him an appraising glance. ¡°I approve.¡± As Daveth and Meiko walked down the long, seemingly endless flight of stone steps, Daveth could see that Meiko was put off by his presence. ¡°Are you the only Shrine maiden here at this temple?¡± Daveth asked. Meiko jolted at the sound of his voice. She nodded. ¡°Yes. And I am just an acolyte. My temple sisters have been murdered by the beastmen.¡± She sighed. ¡°Now there is only me, and Shizuka-sama is training me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to have to do a bit of killing, too.¡± Daveth mentioned, and she nodded. ¡°We have training in hand-to-hand fighting, and temple weapons: The yumi, the naginata, and the temple sword.¡± ¡°Temple sword?¡± Daveth asked. Meiko nodded. ¡°It¡¯s like a katana, but heavier. there are holes in the blade that have rings threaded through them. Also, charms or bells can be attached as well.¡± Daveth nodded thoughtfully at this. Meiko pointed. ¡°Down there is Hitotsuna. It is mostly a fishing village. We have rivers abundant with fish and freshwater clams. There is a dock that you can take a boat to the sea, although I have never gone.¡± ¡°Who murdered your sisters?¡± Daveth asked. ¡°There is a tribe of snake-type beastmen nearby that we have been purifying. Bit by bit we were pushing them back; and then one day they attacked the temple and many of my sisters were slain. The Shrine Priestess gathered some sisters and left to attack the beastmen, and they never returned. Shizuka-sama believes they are dead, though she does not explain how she knows this.¡± She shrugged helplessly. ¡°Now I am the only one remaining.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no shame in mourning them.¡± Daveth replied, and she nodded. ¡°I do mourn them.¡± She said quietly. ¡°But it¡¯s also my responsibility to live for their sake, because they can¡¯t anymore.¡± She let out a bark of laughter. ¡°At least, that is what Shizuka-sama says.¡± ¡°I get the feeling Shizuka isn¡¯t human.¡± He mentioned casually. ¡°What is she?¡± ¡°Once I heard her refer to herself as a ¡°piece of what once was¡±, but really, Shizuka-sama is our shrine¡¯s kami.¡± Meiko replied. ¡°Do you know of kami?¡± She asked curiously. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me about them?¡± He asked lightly. She nodded. ¡°The magic in this area is strong. There are places throughout the world that are like this. The Yamato build shrines, temples, where these places are. We purify the land of mutants, or beastmen, or you know, just the corruptive influences of magic that has been soured, poisoned.¡± He nodded at this. ¡°I follow you so far.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Sometimes, if the magic is potent enough, a spirit will take form. It could be a spirit of a pond, or a mountain, or trees or whatever. This is very rare, though. Even more rare, is when they can take a physical form. Shizuka is like that.¡± ¡°So, she was originally a tree or something?¡± Daveth asked. Meiko shook her head. ¡°She will not tell me what she originally was. She keeps it a very closely guarded secret.¡± They reached the base of the mountain. Daveth saw the giant boulder he¡¯d collapsed near; there were still traces of his blood on the thick ceremonial rope that encircled it. ¡°So where are these beastmen?¡± He asked. She shook her head. ¡°We are going to a shop in town, Mister Daveth. I am going to get some small supplies, and then we will circle around the mountain and attack them.¡± Daveth nodded. Hitotsuna was as she described; a small village that encompassed a river fork. On one side of the village was the mountains, on the other some rolling plains that had been terraced into rice paddies. He¡¯s been here before, another lifetime ago. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking of making an offering to the kami at the top of the mountain.¡± Daveth said quietly to the older man at the store. ¡°But I don''t know what¡¯s acceptable.¡± The old man stroked his chin. ¡°Most people leave salt, or fruit, or dried meat. Those are generally accepted.¡± ¡°Hmm. they sound... ordinary. They saved my life up there. Surely there¡¯s something... better I can offer to show my heartfelt appreciation.¡± The old man nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve heard tell by my grandfather... that once upon a time there was a drought, and the rivers were very low, and there was no rain. The village gave an offering of fried tofu, and the kami at the top of the mountain made it rain from a cloudless sky. The kami did this for days on end, and we struggled through the drought.¡± ¡°Hmm. Fried tofu?¡± He asked. ¡°Should I go to the inn?¡± Daveth asked. The old man shook his head. ¡°I can have my grandson run over there for you if you like.¡± Daveth rubbed his chin. ¡°Well, I¡¯m accompanying Meiko from the shrine right now. Would it be alright to have it cooked when I come back?¡± The shopkeeper nodded. ¡°Certainly, not a problem at all.¡± Daveth nodded and left a couple of steel coins on the counter as thanks. He stepped out of the shop, and Meiko looked up at him. ¡°Did you find what you were looking for, Mister Daveth?¡± She asked, and he nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll swing by and pick it up on our return trip.¡± She nodded, and they headed back the way they came. ¡°Shizuka-sama calls these caves ¡°the foxes burrow¡±, but as you can see, it¡¯s much too large for foxes.¡± Meiko said. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s because it¡¯s such a maze. In any case, If we follow the map, we should come out on the other side of the mountain, and in sight of the beastman tribe.¡± Daveth nodded. ¡°And then it¡¯ll be time for you to show your stuff.¡± She nodded, and touched the bow on her back absently. The ¡®fox burrow¡¯ was a series of tunnels and rooms big enough that a child could perhaps run through, and according to the map they fairly honeycombed the mountain, but as Daveth and Meiko were both larger than the average child, they stooped, and in some places had to crawl on hands and knees. They routinely stopped to check the map, and the end result was that it took a complete day to get through the tunnels. As they reached what the map revealed to be the last chamber before coming out on the far side of the mountain, they spied Shizuka in the room, tending a small fire. ¡°Well, it took you two long enough to get here.¡± She remarked by way of conversation. ¡°Have I your size to thank for the delays?¡± She asked curiously, head slightly tilted. Daveth nodded, and Shizuka smiled. ¡°Well, ¡®tis still faster than going around the mountainside itself.¡± She remarked. She gestured at the fire. ¡°Come and sit. I have brought you some food to eat for your supper.¡± They ate, lay out their bedrolls, and each laid out to sleep with the exception of Daveth, who moved down the last tunnel and emerged outside behind some dense shrubbery. Daveth carefully trimmed away some of the shrubs so that the entrance was still concealed, and stepped away and sat on a boulder. Below them was a low valley, with patches of woods and shrubs here and there. ¡°Hello, human.¡± Shizuka remarked as she seated herself next to him. He nodded. ¡°What do you think of my valley?¡± She asked. He dipped into his coat and pulled out a pipe and a pouch of tobacco, and lit it carefully. After he had puffed contentedly for a bit, he glanced at her, and then at the valley. ¡°The valley is yours?¡± He asked. She shrugged a little and from her sleeve pulled out her own pipe, and made an imperious gesture. He chuckled and passed his pouch to her. After she had lit and puffed a few times, She replied, ¡°I was born in this valley. I played in this valley. When I became an adult I hunted here. I-¡± She glanced at him and cut whatever she was going to say short. ¡°I have been here forever, and forever I should remain.¡± ¡°If Meiko dies-¡± He started, and Shizuka glanced at him sharply. He shrugged. ¡°If she dies, what will happen to the Shrine? Will you move to another?¡± He asked. She shook her head. ¡°I cannot leave this land. And to answer your other question, I would tend the shrine as well as I can.¡± He pursed his lips in thought and stroked his beard. ¡°Would it be impolitic to ask another Shrine for assistance?¡± He asked, and her eyes widened. ¡°No, it would not.¡± She replied, and then he grinned. ¡°If you like, I could carry some correspondence for you. If I come across another shrine, I could tell them of your troubles.¡± ¡°And what would your price be to do this?¡± She asked. He raised his eyebrows wonderingly. ¡°I didn¡¯t consider price at all, Shizuka.¡± He remarked. Her eyebrows rose at that. ¡°Truly?¡± She asked wonderingly. He shrugged. ¡°How burdensome is it to carry a letter?¡± He asked, and rolled his eyes. ¡°You are a strange human indeed.¡± Shizuka remarked, and then frowned. ¡°To one such as yourself, i should be addressed formally: Sonozaki-sama would be appropriate.¡± She stated, and he chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ve eaten your food, I¡¯m helping your acolyte, and I¡¯ve shared my tobacco with you. I think we¡¯re a little too close for formality.¡± He remarked, and she smiled. ¡°We are, at that.¡± she agreed. ¡°So how far should I go with the beastmen tomorrow?¡± He asked, and she glanced at him curiously. ¡°Should I cut off a limb or two and let her kill them? Should I bash them over the head with a stick?¡± He asked. ¡°Should I stand aside and let her be cut down if the one that got me with the sword yesterday strikes?¡± He asked. ¡°How much should I involve myself?¡± He asked. A short wind blew and Shizuka moved closer to him on the low rock they shared, and glanced up at the stars in the sky. ¡°She fears combat.¡± Shizuka started. ¡°She needs to know that she is capable of fighting properly.¡± She let out a slow breath and pressed her back against his side. ¡°Do not let her die.¡± Shizuka said. ¡°But do not help her overmuch, either.¡± She smiled a little. ¡°A scar would be a great reminder for future fights.¡± She glanced up at him. ¡°I am trusting you with a great deal, human.¡± He nodded and puffed on his pipe. ¡°You should sleep, human.¡± She remarked, and got up and moved back up to the tunnel entrance and disappeared inside. Daveth got up and stretched, twisting so that his back popped, and then moved up to the tunnel and fell asleep. His dreams were normally a confusing maze of strange images, colors, and sounds. For the longest time, his dreams had been like this, and he couldn¡¯t remember anything different. There was always a low feeling of anxiety and fear that accompanied these dreams, though it dissipated by morning. This dream, however, had an uncomfortable vibrance that could not be shaken. ***** She was often accused by her peers as being fickle, whimsical, inconsistent, but that was wrong. When she¡¯d been but a kit, running through the warren of tunnels and chasing after her kin in play, a time had come when her vulpine mind was suddenly blasted with strange knowledge. None of her kith or kin seemed to know or understand or care, and it was only after long thought spent staring at her paws as her brothers and sisters dashed through tunnels, chased mice and squirrels, and frolicked and gamboled in the lands that were theirs since time immemorial that she understood that the reason they didn¡¯t understand was that they couldn¡¯t. Their minds, such as they were, were comprised of layers of genetic imperatives, instincts, and the simple knowledge passed down from parent to child. The games her siblings played were simply lessons to be used in hunting, attracting mates, escaping danger, fighting. She was aware in a way that they never would be, and a terrible loneliness grew in her because, try as she might, she could not communicate with her own family. Strange two-legs came to the land, though they rarely ventured into the wilderness where her family dwelled. She watched them, sometimes. They walked upright, they cut down trees and cut the high grass and built for themselves dens. She didn¡¯t understand why they would do such things. If they needed dens, wasn¡¯t a warren a suitable place? Could they not burrow as her family did? She watched as they talked to each other. She couldn''t understand what they were saying, of course, but she grasped the import of communication. She wanted someone to talk to, the same way the two-legs spoke with each other. No matter how she yipped and barked at her family, they didn¡¯t- couldn¡¯t- understand her need. Slowly, she began to understand their language, though she could not speak it herself. As her intelligence expanded, so did her frustration. She wanted to speak, and be spoken to. She wanted to learn and understand. Her tiny paws couldn¡¯t grasp anything; her attempts to speak were brushed off as chattering yips and barks. An idea came to her as she studied the village the two-legs- ¡°people¡± they called themselves- if she couldn¡¯t communicate with them with her current body, perhaps she could craft for herself a new body. Maybe the knowledge had always been there. Lately it seemed that whenever she thought of something, a way opened itself for her to understand how to do it. And so it was that one early morning, the villagers were surprised to see a young naked girl with a long, tufted tail and large, alert ears stumble towards their village on feet that had never been used to walk upright. Then came a new surprise; it wasn¡¯t simply necessary to know words in order to communicate, they needed to be arranged to be understood. Her first halting speech was a rambling, incoherent stream of random words she¡¯d picked up here and there as she crept through their village. The villagers eyed her with alarm and suspicion, but they gave her clothes to wear- she didn¡¯t understand it at first; what was the point of clothing if you had fur? But then she understood that they didn¡¯t have fur of their own when the cold winds blew and they huddled and shook and shivered. The villagers spoke with her and fed her; that was a wonder; all she had known for food was rabbits, mice, birds, and the occasional snake. Their food was hot and flavored and she burned her lips and tongue more than once during her first meal. She stayed away from their fire, however. Everyone knew that fire was deadly. She wanted to stay and learn, but whatever ability she had used to transform herself into a human was fading quickly. Her limbs were sluggish and weak, and her head pounded frightfully, so she slipped away and returned to her mountain. It seemed that there, at least, she was strong enough to maintain her form. Those that knew her grew old and passed away. Her brothers and sisters and family grew older, moved in search of new burrows, dens of their own. Humans were endlessly interesting, but strange and forceful, and although her newly-understood sense of pride would not allow her to appear intimidated, she missed her family, and began to spend less and less time with humans. In time she shed her clothes and returned to her original form and her home. Though her wisdom was vast and her intelligence outstripped any other fox, she took a mate and birthed children in the hopes that they too would inherit her understanding. Alas, they were perfectly normal kits that frolicked and gamboled in much the same way as she and her siblings had done when they were kits, so long ago. She was affectionate towards them, but loneliness had begun creeping in at the edges of her mind again, and so she donned her clothes, assumed her human form for the first time in a century, and ventured out into the village. No one recognized her. The names of people she had spoken with had all grown old and passed away. They had left behind stories of her and her endless interest in the things that they did, including some rather embarrassingly exaggerated tales of powers and abilities she had never claimed to have. Once the humans were becalmed and settled, she began to understand what it was that they wanted from her. Some legend that had sprung up about her was that she could make the rains come. The village was in danger. The rains had not come in some time, and their crops would not grow. Without crops, they would have to slaughter their livestock, and where would they be then? Her pride kept her from asking what they meant by that. She returned to her mountain to think on the problem. She began to understand that somehow her mountain home was the source of the power that allowed her to keep her human form, so she sat and she pondered. What was weather to a fox? When it was sunny it was sunny. When it was cold, it was cold. She had food in her belly when she was hungry, her kits and her mate to keep her company. A new degree of understanding came to her in the same mysterious way in that she gained self-awareness, to learn the human language, that taught her the ability to switch her form at will. Warm air sucked up moisture, cooler air caused it to form droplets, and out of a cloudless sky, rain began to fall, and the village praised and thanked her and gave her offerings. She particularly liked the fried foods they gave her, after they had cooled to a suitable temperature. She discovered something new: when they paused and thanked her and brought her offerings, the depth of her powers grew. She could spend longer and longer time away from the mountain and her den. It was then that the people told her of another human village across the river. Much larger, much older and much more vast than she was capable of understanding. Her ears went up at this, but her pride would not allow herself to be awed and frightened, and so she boarded a boat and sailed across the great waters to a stone city known as Einsamkeit. It was much too loud, too busy, too crowded for her, and her strength, husbanded closely, fled her quickly and so the villagers found her, a tiny fox, curled up in their boat atop her kimono. She barely had the strength to crawl to her den. She dragged herself there, drawn like a needle to a lodestone, but it was laborious work and her consciousness flickered like one of the human¡¯s candles. It was then that she found the nourishment to grant her strength to carry on. She was able to return to her burrow, and it was there that she learned of the fire. Perhaps a human set it. Humans had an unwholesome affection for fire. Perhaps it was from lightning. Sometimes lightning would strike a tree and it would explode into flames. Those were times when it was necessary to hide deep in the warrens and tunnels of her family and huddle together until the danger passed. But her family wasn¡¯t there. As her power returned, her awareness returned, and she understood exactly what she had fed on to grant her the strength to carry on. In her fox form, she wandered her burrows, crying for those she knew would never return; in her human form she was deathly silent and shivered with guilt and shame over what she had done. The villagers remembered her, though. They praised her for all manner of things she was not responsible for, thanked her for things she never did, and brought her offerings of things they thought would please her. And then the Shrine Maidens showed up and made a big deal about her and her supposed strength and power and unfathomable wisdom. The villagers spoke to the Shrine Maidens and related great tales and miracles she had performed in which she had never once participated. She was often accused by her peers as being fickle, whimsical, inconsistent, but that was wrong. Carved into her heart and her eyes was the mark of madness. ***** Daveth opened his eyes and took a breath. Where was he? Overhead, there were small roots from the dirt ceiling. Ah. The Yamato shrine, the tunnels through the mountains. Today, Meiko was to make war against a tribe of beastmen by herself with naught but a bow. Daveth turned his head and caught Shizuka adjusting the collar of her kimono. she caught his eye and nodded a greeting. She held a finger to her lips and pointed at Meiko¡¯s bedroll, and he nodded and sat up carefully, scratching absently at his chest. He glanced down at his shirt and rebuttoned it absently, and joined Shizuka as she prodded the fire and settled a kettle into the coals for tea. She passed him a wooden plate that had grilled fish, mounded high with steaming vegetables and rice. How had he not smelled it cooking? He frowned. ¡°You sleep pretty deeply for a warrior.¡± Shizuka mentioned. He frowned in confusion. ¡°I touched your foot several times to get you to wake and still, you slept on.¡± Shizuka reported. He shook his head wonderingly. ¡°I can''t explain it. maybe I was overtired from yesterday or something.¡± He replied, and pulled out a battered fork from his pack and dug in. Shizuka started laughing, and Meiko woke up, blinking in her bedroll. ¡°You have a steel fork, mister Daveth?¡± She remarked, kicking her feet like a child. He nodded. ¡°Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable.¡± She laughed. He smiled. ¡°I had a blacksmith make them for me.¡± He pulled out a spoon and waved it at her. She went off into gales of laughter as Meiko joined them at the fire. Shizuka poured tea, and they ate and drank in silence. ¡°Snake-type beastmen are generally sluggish in the morning, and they live in caves.¡± Daveth said, glancing at Meiko. She stopped eating and focused her attention on him. ¡°A small tribe usually consists of about five females and one male. Medium-sized tribes are eight to ten females and a male, and large tribes can be sixteen to twenty females and one male.¡± He shoveled some food into his mouth and chased it with some tea. ¡°They can attack from above, hanging from tree limbs and the like, they can come up from concealed burrows in the ground, and if there are rivers or lakes, they could potentially attack from there as well, which basically just means to check all quarters as you move.¡± He essayed. ¡°They¡¯re very good with grappling and constricting. If they get you in their coils, it¡¯s all over for you. Some have a venomous bite, and I¡¯ve heard stories of a type that can spit their venom something like fifteen to twenty feet.¡± He took another drink. ¡°If you encounter them outside of their den, you should kill as many as you can... and wound a few. The reasoning behind that is that they have a den that they call home. You want to follow them.¡± He polished off his tea, and Shizuka raised the teapot and raised her eyebrows interrogatively. He nodded, and she poured for him. ¡°Snake-type beastmen shed scales often. The floors of their dens are typically covered in a layer of scales that have built up over time. This is a weakness of theirs, because the scales are extremely flammable. Toss in a torch and kill anything that comes out.¡± He took a breath. ¡°After you¡¯ve burned them out, you want to go in and confirm your kills. Destroy all the eggs you find. The larger the tribe, the more eggs you will find. Finally, confirm the death of the male. If you can¡¯t beat the snakes through extermination, kill the male. The male will only very rarely leave the den, so by attacking the den you attack the male. Kill the male and the tribe will break up and the females will disperse, seeking a new mate.¡± ¡°How do you know so much?¡± Meiko asked. He shrugged. ¡°I killed a tribe that lived near my hometown, and I¡¯ve spoken to others that have killed other tribes of snakemen.¡± He glanced to Shizuka. ¡°Do we have any idea where their den is?¡± She shook her head. ¡°They seem to attack further down the slope of the mountain, near the river.¡± ¡°Any caves near there?¡± He asked, and she nodded. ¡°There are a few.¡± ***** Daveth and Meiko returned a couple of days later. ¡°It is done, Shizuka-sama.¡± ¡°I was down in Hitotsuna and they recommended that I bring you fried tofu.¡± Daveth mentioned and Shizuka sat up suddenly. Massive ears seemed to sprout from the top of her head and Daveth stepped back in shock. Daveth smiled after the shock passed. ¡°You really aren¡¯t human.¡± She growled at him around a mouthful of fried tofu. He shrugged. ¡°I knew from the start, right? This is just what you¡¯d call confirmation.¡± ¡°You¡¯d best be wary, human.¡± She warned. ¡°For I am known as the Mad Fox for a reason.¡± He nodded. ¡°I know.¡± Her golden eyes with slit pupils eyed him dangerously. ¡°You think you know my madness?¡± She suddenly growled. ¡°I dreamed it.¡± He remarked, suddenly careful and wondering if he could get out a sword in time should she attack. He wondered belatedly if a sword would even work on her. Her brows lowered even further and her tiny hands were now tiny fists. Spots of red appeared on her kimono from them as she clenched them tightly. ¡°You dreamed it? What do you think you know, Child of Man?¡± She dared, the color of her eyes deepening to the orange of sunset. ¡°I think... it would be dangerous to say it.¡± He offered guardedly. ¡°Speak it.¡± She spat in a low voice. ¡°I don¡¯t know how long ago it was, but you tried to cross the river to Einsamkeit. You were weakened because you were so long from your barrow, but when you came back, fire had destroyed everything. You were weak and needed to survive.¡± He paused, and then added in a low voice, ¡°You ate your own kin for the strength to-¡± He was cut off as her eyes went blood red and she catapulted herself at him, fangs sprouting in her mouth, wicked claws from her fingers. ¡°You truly do wish to die, don¡¯t you, Son of Battles?!¡± She snapped, her vulpine teeth gnashing as frothy spittle splattered him. He¡¯d caught her hands, but she lunged savagely at him again and again, trying to tear out his throat with her teeth. ¡°To think you could trample upon my secrets uninvited, truly you do not wish to live! I shall surely oblige you!¡± She shrieked, and he finally managed to shove her away. Her tiny frame stumbled back, no match for the massive giant. She immediately shed her human form and lunged at him as a fox, as straight as an arrow, like a furry bullet. He caught her again and once more tossed her to the side. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to say it!¡± He shouted at her, but she lunged at him again. This time he caught her, and held her over his head. He struggled to stand, holding her over his head. In the form of a fox, all she could do was fruitlessly chew on the metal-shod bracers he wore on his forearms. He held her as her limbs pinwheeled and kicked at the air fruitlessly, as her jaws grew tired. Eventually her tail drooped and she shifted back into her human form. ¡°...release me, human.¡± She ordered in a sullen voice. Daveth warily lowered her to the ground, and she looked up at him and squinted. ¡°I remember you, now. You were the impertinent human that picked me up all those years ago. The mercenary.¡± Daveth¡¯s face twisted. ¡°Yeah.¡± He nodded. ¡°That was me.¡± She suddenly chuckled. ¡°I see... we are alike: we both suffer under the burden of our own insanities.¡± ¡°Fuck you, Mad Fox.¡± He spat bitterly. She grinned widely, showing her teeth. ¡°I think I¡¯m leaving.¡± He complained, and backed away until he left the main hall. He retreated to his room, where he packed quickly. ¡°So are you leaving then, human?¡± Shizuka asked him from the doorway as he readied his gear. He jolted in surprise as he thought he¡¯d be able to hear coming. He eyed her warily, and nodded. Her face twisted into a hateful expression. ¡°Good. Do not come here again.¡± She spat. Daveth and Moriko Moriko was trying to peer past the throngs of people in the town to see the announcements board, but everyone was so much taller than her. Moriko was a Yamato, an island race of people with a slight stature, and so everyone in this city on the mainland rose at least a head taller over her. ¡°Excuse me!¡± She cried, tugging on a man¡¯s sleeve. He glanced down at her and shook his arm free from her and turned back to the board with a muttered curse. ¡°Excuse me.¡± A deep voice rumbled beside her, and she glanced his way and stepped back in shock. In a word, the man was a monster. He was huge, a mountain of a man that towered over everyone else by at least head and shoulders. He was to the others as she was to them: The tallest man there only came up to his shoulder. She herself came up to perhaps his breastbone. He looked huge enough to crush her with one blow, with long legs like tree trunks, hands seemingly big enough to crush whole melons. He glanced at her, and she seemed to be weighed, assessed. His face was broad, weathered, and uncomplicated. Like a boulder it seemed both chiseled and worn. A scruff of beard on his chin and thick brown hair tumbled on his shoulders. ¡°You¡¯re Yamato, correct?¡± He asked, and she nodded wordlessly, numb with wonder. He was huge. He smiled then, delighted. It was a smile that you couldn¡¯t help but respond with one of your own. It was a smile that seemed so alien and incongruous with the rest of him. ¡°Shrine maiden?¡± He asked, and she blinked a few times, confused and still in awe of him. He looked like he was ready to pick up and devour the first thing that disagreed with him, herself included. He repeated himself. ¡°Are you a Shrine Maiden?¡± His voice was deep and coarse. She nodded again, and his smile refreshed itself. ¡°Good. I¡¯d like a word with you, if you don¡¯t mind. But first, I¡¯d like to check the announcement board.¡± ¡°Good luck.¡± Moriko replied with a scowl, ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to check it for a while.¡± He smiled a lopsided grin at her and replied with a knowing wink, ¡°Want my help?¡± Before she could agree or disagree, he casually scooped her up, off her feet and over his shoulder as casually and as effortlessly as if she¡¯d shouldered her own pack. She didn¡¯t even have time to let out a terrified shout before he was on the move, casually shoving people aside with his free hand, growling and cursing along with the rest of the throng of people. ¡°Yeah, yeah, out the fucking way.¡± He ordered, and nodded at something said by someone else. He let out a constant stream of the most coarse language she¡¯d ever heard. Someone shouted something unintelligible to her, and he laughed in response. ¡°I guess your sister is too fast for you, hey?¡± He shouted back. She finally found her voice and squawked in outrage and he laughed. ¡°Just a moment, princess, and I¡¯ll put you down.¡± he replied. ¡°You said you wanted to talk to me?¡± She inquired. He nodded without looking at her, and continued examining the slips of paper and cloth where various jobs were advertised. ¡°Is there a jinja nearby?¡± He asked. Her eyebrows rose, but she shook her head. ¡°No. I come from a Shrine far to the northwest of here.¡± He frowned at that. ¡°A shame. I need to get a letter to a Shrine.¡± Her eyebrow twitched and she frowned in confusion. Who was he, that he needed to communicate with a jinja? According to her maps there weren¡¯t any nearby, either. He tapped a notice on the job board for twenty silver and pulled it off the board. ¡°What would-¡± She started, but he was already pushing his way through the crowds again. She struggled to keep up with him. As they emerged from the press of bodies, he smiled again. ¡°You move well; your training has paid off.¡± ¡°You seem to know a lot.¡± She replied challengingly, eyebrow arched inquisitively. He shrugged ambiguously. ¡°I was wounded near Hitotsuna town, and I was tended at the shrine there.¡± He mentioned. He pointed to the markets, and they started walking. ¡°While I was there, I helped them put down a tribe of snakemen. Unfortunately, many of the Maidens were killed. There is only the local kami and a single acolyte. They need help.¡± Moriko touched her chest at the story. ¡°An entire temple, overrun?¡± She asked. He shrugged. ¡°It wasn¡¯t so much overrun as it was massacred. The Shrine stands; the kami is alive and insane.¡± She glanced at him with puzzlement. ¡°I was hoping there would be a shrine in a nearby town, but so far, no luck.¡± Moriko nodded. ¡°My own shrine is hundreds of miles away.¡± She cupped an elbow with her palm and tapped a finger against her cheek. ¡°Still, my Shrine is in contact with other Shrines. We should find a scryer and have him deliver the letter to them. If necessary it can be forwarded on to the homeland.¡± He stroked his jaw. ¡°It seems the only option.¡± he replied doubtfully. She nodded and then touched his arm. ¡°That job- are you going to attempt it on your own?¡± He looked at the paper. ¡°Clear out the mines and caves of mutants and beastmen.¡± He read aloud. He shrugged. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not impossible. I could probably do it on my own. But no, there¡¯s a couple others in my party.¡± He eyed her carefully. ¡°Are you saying you want to come along?¡± He asked, and then his eyes flicked up over her shoulder for just a moment and she felt something tug at her waist. She let her instincts take over, and her hand moved, reaching behind her. She felt her hand close on someone¡¯s wrist, and then she pivoted, foot flashing, arm raising. Her movement twisted the man¡¯s arm behind him, her foot swept his feet out from underneath him, and as he fell face-first, she finished by pressing a knee into his lower back. He yelped, and she jerked his hand higher. He held up a pouch with his other hand. ¡°Take it! Take it! I¡¯m sorry!¡± Moriko reclaimed her belt pouch as the town watch came running, whistles blowing. ¡°Here now, what¡¯s all this, then?¡± One asked. Daveth nodded at the two of them. ¡°The man tried to take her money pouch. She caught him and took it back.¡± ¡°Herb pouch, actually.¡± Moriko mentioned as the watch took the man away. ¡°Hmm?¡± Daveth asked. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°I keep my money elsewhere. That pouch holds herbs I use for tea. See?¡± She said, and passed the pouch over. Inside was a collection of dried, sliver-like leaves that exuded a rich herbal scent. ¡°I¡¯ve had that sort of tea before.¡± He mentioned. ¡°At the temple I was at. It¡¯s pretty tasty.¡± She nodded and he shrugged. ¡°Well, his loss. He probably would have thrown it away and cursed you in disgust, for the affrontery of not keeping a money pouch visible.¡± He chuckled and she smiled politely. ¡°Do you want to come along?¡± Daveth repeated. ¡°You carry yourself well.¡± She nodded. ¡°I could use the money, to be honest. I have not been able to eat much the past few days.¡± He nodded. ¡°Well, come along, then. I have to do a bunch of shopping for my group. Supplies and the like.¡± She nodded. ¡°So what¡¯re your skills?¡± He asked. ¡°I know a little about what to expect from a Shrine Maiden, but fill me in.¡± ¡°I¡¯m most skilled in the bow. I¡¯m also trained in nonmagical healing; herbs, poultices and the like. I can cast a few spells, but I¡¯m no mage.¡± He nodded at that. ¡°And you? What sort of skills do you have?¡± She asked, and he smiled. ¡°I¡¯m- I guess I¡¯m just a fighter.¡± He nodded to himself. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m good with swords and the like.¡± She nodded. ¡°So what type of party do you have?¡± She asked, as he stopped at a stall and started ordering. ¡°Let me get three chickens and four packages of mutton.¡± he asked the stall-keeper, and glanced at her. ¡°There¡¯s a cat-type beastman that sort of serves as our scout. Will you have a problem with that?¡± He asked. She shook her head. ¡°The Yamato don¡¯t campaign against any particular race, and we only put down local groups of beastmen if they¡¯re tainted with magic or if they¡¯re unbalancing the land.¡± He nodded absently. ¡°Oh, and do you have any hams or bacon?¡± He asked the man, who shook his head. ¡°Yer be wantin¡¯ the general store.¡± the man muttered thickly, pointing. Daveth pulled out a pouch from somewhere, and casually stuffed his chickens into the sack. The small sack was at least a fifth of the size of one of the birds, but he stuffed everything in without a problem. She smiled a little. ¡°Do you need money?¡± He asked her suddenly. ¡°Excuse me?¡± She asked defensively. ¡°You know, for food or anything you need, like spell components, or I dunno whatall you need. Things like that.¡± ¡°I have everything I need, I suppose.¡± She said, and he snorted back laughter and ruffled her hair. ¡°I thought you said you hadn¡¯t eaten in a while?¡± He asked. ¡°Here, knock yourself out. Buy some food and water.¡± He took her hand and forcibly tucked a coin into her palm. She glanced at it; it was a silver coin, stamped with a face she didn¡¯t recognize, with words in a language she didn¡¯t know. From the weight alone it was a particularly rich coin. ¡°I can¡¯t take your money.¡± She said staunchly. ¡°Not even if I deduct it from your share?¡± He asked curiously. ¡°Deducting this from your share isn¡¯t ideal, but it¡¯s fair, I think.¡± Her mouth twisted. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll take it.¡± She remarked. He nodded and stuck out his hand. She stared at it for a moment, and remembered that mainlanders often shook hands to seal a deal. She gingerly extended her hand, expecting it to be crushed to powder in a massive fist, but he gripped her hand firmly and released it. ¡°I am Moriko of the Ancient Pine.¡± She said by way of introduction. His hand had been dry and calloused, but warm. ¡°I¡¯m Daveth.¡± He replied. ¡°No more?¡± She asked. He shrugged and chuckled. ¡°I hope not,¡± he remarked cryptically. She raised an eyebrow quizzically, but he shook his head. ¡°Just Daveth.¡± She cocked an eyebrow, but said no more. He carried himself like a seasoned warrior, so she was expecting a military title, or perhaps the name of a mercenary band, or if his family were important, a surname. At the very least, she expected the name of a town or city that he¡¯d hailed from. She bought her food along with him, buying a large pork roast, several skins of water, and a small cask of fish. He eyed her, but she tucked them into her sleeves casually and his eyebrows rose. At the general store he bought bread, bacon, several wheels of cheese, and an entire cask of pickled cucumbers. ¡°You like them?¡± She asked, her face screwed up in an expression of disgust, but he nodded. ¡°They¡¯re delicious. Why, don¡¯t you?¡± He asked, and she shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not fond of them.¡± She replied, and he shook his head. ¡°Suit yourself.¡± He grinned like a little boy. ¡°More for me, then.¡± ¡°Why do you travel with a beastman?¡± She asked curiously. As they gathered their purchases from the various stores and shops, he explained. ¡°I like asking questions about as much as I like answering them.¡± he grumped. ¡°too much effort. Don¡¯t be surprised if I don¡¯t answer.¡± He mentioned and her eyebrows rose. What sort of philosophy was this? ¡°I think it saves on trouble. Or not. Either way, I think it¡¯s a good policy. Don¡¯t feel obligated to tell me anything you don¡¯t feel comfortable telling me, and I¡¯ll do the same.¡± He said, and smiled. ¡°We¡¯re adventurers, not comrades-in-arms. I don¡¯t need to know your life story, and I don¡¯t think you¡¯d really care to hear about my boring life either.¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we get to know each other?¡± She asked. He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve got a good eye for people. I wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve invited you along if I thought you were a terrible person. That¡¯s enough for me.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine for you, but what about me?¡± She asked. ¡°For all I know, you could be softening me up to rob me later.¡± He chuckled at that. ¡°Do you really think that?¡± He asked. She shook her head. ¡°I don''t think that someone who is as earnest in his desire to help a yamato shrine as you have can be a completely bad person.¡± She forwarded hesitantly. He smiled. ¡°Just so.¡± She fell silent, then. ¡°You said you met the Kami of Hitotsuna shrine?¡± She asked. He nodded. ¡°Well, she called it ¡°Araya-jinja¡±, but yes. I met her.¡± Moriko nodded. ¡°Normally we name our shrines from the surrounding nature, but Araya-jinja is different, and was named after one of our diviners.¡± ¡°The kami- Her name is ... Shizuka, right?¡± She asked hesitantly. He nodded again. ¡°That¡¯s right, Sonozaki Shizuka. Do you know her?¡± he asked. She shook her head, shrugging a little. ¡°I know of her, yes, in name only. There are not many kami that we know of, after all.¡± He nodded sagely, and her mouth twisted. ¡°You didn¡¯t answer the question, though: why do you travel with a beastman?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± he asked, and then smirked. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m teasing you. We just happen to be traveling in the same direction, more or less. Strength in numbers and all that.¡± Her eyebrows rose. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± She asked, and he nodded. ¡°Who else is in your party?¡± She asked, and he shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s an elf girl. Honestly, she¡¯s kind of a pain in the ass, but she carries her weight.¡± He twisted to the side suddenly as a hand reached for his waist pouch. Moriko¡¯s eyes narrowed at that. There was no way that he could have seen the hand from his stance, and yet he moved as if he¡¯d expected it to happen. ¡°Not going to beat him up?¡± She asked, glancing up at him. Her mouth twisted a little. She was not looking forward to constantly craning her neck that far. ¡°What? I told you, it¡¯s a she. And she¡¯s an elf.¡± He replied. ¡°No, the guy that went for your purse just now.¡± She replied, glancing back into the throng of people that moved past. ¡°Someone was after my purse?¡± He stopped and glanced back at the group of people with a calculating eye, but gave up after a moment. ¡°I didn¡¯t see him.¡± Lunar Princess 01 Writing Prompt: "Confident and assured in faith, the holy knight trekked into the boneyard¡± The sky was on fire again. It happened from time to time, the result of the masses of toxic chemicals chuffed into the atmosphere from the gargantuan hive cities that dotted the planet; the radioactive garbage from shattered satellites, derelict starships and abandoned space stations. It all collected in the upper atmosphere and sometimes a reaction would kick off and the sky would burn from horizon to horizon. None of this mattered to Jeanne, Block Seven Terminatrix of Hive Al-Omeg. What mattered to her was the greasy, sweaty squig that dangled from her biomechanical fist. ¡°Say it again, greaseball.¡± she demanded, and added a shake for emphasis. He squealed at her grating voice and her olfactory sensors, inconsistent as they were, registered the ammonia of fresh urine as he soiled himself. ¡°A seed!¡± He gasped, once again struggling to pry himself free from her Smirtka battlesuit. ¡°A seed is in the Boneyard!¡± She twisted her wrist, and Evel¨ªna, singing gently in her ear, obediently deployed a thirty-six inch blade that ran the nick through the chest, shattering his ribs, shredding his heart and pulverizing his spine, ending his life. She tried to let him go, but Evel¨ªna suddenly went dissonant, scattering neural static across Jeanne¡¯s body. ¡°Evel¨ªna, let him go!¡± She ordered, but Evel¨ªna¡¯s lullaby janked to error tones in her ear. Jeanne let out what was likely her hundredth sigh of the day as the failing battlesuit desperately tried to accomplish the most simple of tasks. Jeanne had long come to terms with Evel¨ªna¡¯s death, but this slow decay of functionality, this erratic behavior of functionality and irrationality was a clear sign that her Smirtka battlesuit was failing on the side of death. She grit her teeth behind Evel¨ªna¡¯s deathmask helmet and tried to trigger her jump-jets. Evel¨ªna suddenly reappeared as if by magic and murmured an apology as the jets failed to ignite. ¡°Can you let him go?¡± Jeanne asked, and once more, errors flashed across her screen. ¡°S-s-s-sorry, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna stammered, and then suddenly the man slumped to the ground and all her indicators lit up, greens across the board. Jeanne immediately hit her jumpjets, mentally plotting her course across the Wasteland to the Boneyard. The jets roared to life and shoved Jeanne into the air with brute force. ¡°Where are we going, Terminatrix Jeanne?¡± Evel¨ªna asked pleasantly. ¡°You¡¯ve forgotten already?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°I have no records of our current mi-mi-mi-mission.¡± Evel¨ªna stammered. ¡°Military Protocol 6523-7 requires you to di-di-dictate the objectives of your mission.¡± There was a pause, and then Evel¨ªna began playing ¡°Threnody to the Lunar Princess¡±. Jeanne sighed again, timing her jumps and making sure to keep herself low to the ground. It wouldn¡¯t do to have a catastrophic system failure in her current state. ¡°Wh-wh-wh-where are we-we going?¡± Evel¨ªna asked again, and this time her normally pleasant, whispery voice was laced with fear. ¡°We¡¯re hunting a Seed.¡± Jeanne replied. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°A Seed-seed.¡± Evel¨ªna stammered again, and then Jeanne lost half her optics. More, her body went limp in Evel¨ªna¡¯s embrace. It wasn¡¯t just Evel¨ªna that was failing. A Smirtka battlesuit was biomechanical. It was a living thing that was grown and cultivated and then joined to a compatible human in holy symbiosis. In this case, Jeanne. Evel¨ªna¡¯s rapid deterioration was playing havoc with her own nervous system. ¡°Where are we going, Jeanne?¡± Evel¨ªna asked again. ¡°I told you, already.¡± Jeanne replied, exhausted. She tried to get a grip on the lost sensation and failed as Evel¨ªna crashed to the ashen earth. ¡°I-I-I-I¡¯m sorry, Jeanne, something seems to be wrong with me.¡± Evel¨ªna offered apologetically. ¡°You and me both.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°I can¡¯t feel anything on my left side.¡± She added. ¡°Oh!¡± Evel¨ªna exclaimed. ¡°Deploying medical systems- oh... they¡¯re working...¡± She ground to a halt. Jeanne awkwardly pushed herself upright and looked around with her one good eye. The sky was still burning, the ground was pulverized stone and ash. Jeanne staggered in a weird circle, trying to get her bearings. Her Hive was seven hundred miles to the north. She was headed south, to the Boneyard, to either put Evel¨ªna to rest, or, if she was very very lucky, pick up a Seed, something that occasionally flowered from the tangle of dead and abandoned battlesuits. Regardless of her failure or success, she would return to her Hive and once more take up arms in defense of Her Silvery Radiance, the Moon Princess. ¡°Jeanne?¡± Evel¨ªna suddenly asked, a note of fear in her voice. ¡°Yes, Evel¨ªna?¡± Jeanne replied, suddenly discovering that her entire body had gone limp inside Evel¨ªna. ¡°My directional sensors say we¡¯re close to the Boneyard.¡± Evel¨ªna whispered, that note of fear in her voice again. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna whispered. ¡°Nobody does.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Can you give me control of my body back?¡± ¡°I-¡± Evel¨ªna began, and then Evel¨ªna¡¯s legs gave way, and Jeanne hit the ground on her face- again. ¡°This is really inconvenient.¡± Jeanne muttered, frustrated. ¡°Fine. Manual Code 57-¡± ¡°You- You can¡¯t!¡± Evel¨ªna panicked. ¡°You¡¯re dying, Evel¨ªna.¡± Jeanne replied, struggling to breathe. Was it Evel¨ªna¡¯s filters this time? Was it her own lungs that failed because of the feedback? ¡°No I¡¯m not!¡± Evel¨ªna complained. ¡°Then prove it!¡± Jeanne gasped. Suddenly her heads-up-display came online, and all indicators went green. She could feel her body again, she could breathe. ¡°Alright.¡± Jeanne breathed, and whispered a prayer to the Lunar Princess, then pushed herself upright. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die, Jeanne. I don¡¯t want to be... I don¡¯t want to be abandoned in that place.¡± Evel¨ªna whispered in her ear. ¡°Cast off. Left to rot.¡± ¡°You know what I heard, Evel¨ªna?¡± Jeanne asked her partner. ¡°What is it, Holy Knight Jeanne?¡± Evel¨ªna replied. To the Temple of the Moon, she was a Holy Knight. To those they warred against, she was a Harbinger, a Terminatrix. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that Seeds grow there. If we can find one, you won¡¯t die.¡± ¡°I- really?¡± ¡°Have I ever lied to you?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°The Agri-pits in Zone Seven sublevel red.¡± Evel¨ªna immediately accused. Jeanne allowed herself a smile, and Evel¨ªna began humming in her ear again, a comforting lullaby that she sang to Evel¨ªna a decade previous, when Evel¨ªna was young and uncertain. ¡°Aside from then.¡± Jeanne replied. Evel¨ªna continued humming. Jeanne pointed towards the Boneyard. ¡°Salvation- probably for the both of us- lies in there.¡± ¡°You won¡¯t... join with another Smirtka?¡± Evel¨ªna asked, her voice uncertain. ¡°No, I won¡¯t. I can¡¯t.¡± Jeanne¡¯s voice dropped lower, kinder. For those who met their end at her hands or guns or blades, they would have thought it impossible for her to sound so gentle. ¡°Either we both live, or we both go to the Princess¡¯ side. I believe- I have faith- that we¡¯ll find what we need to keep going.¡± ¡°I love you, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna replied in a quiet whisper, and then returned to her lullaby. Confident and assured in faith, the holy knight trekked into the Boneyard. Lunar Princess 02 Writing Prompt: "The trundling machine broke apart into a fiery conflagration surprising them all." Jess and Marc spooned scraps of food into their mouths from their kits while the rad counter roared static from the dashboard. ¡°They kep¡¯ sayin¡¯ not to go through the swamps, eh Jess?¡± Marc grinned through his yellow teeth at his partner, who grunted around a mouthful of slop. Marc peeked out the grimy windshield at the swamplands that lay ahead of them. Little glowing bits floated in the brackish water. ¡°This strontium swamp would kill a man dead in minutes.¡± Alan called from the rear of their truck. ¡°Else melt his face and give him fifty tumors.¡± Marc peeked up at the sky. ¡°Oh ¡®ey, you can see the Princess!¡± he crowed. Jess grunted. Alan came forward and peered out the windshield. ¡°Oh ey, you¡¯re right.¡± Alan agreed. It was rare to see the moon; the skies were usually filled with filth and garbage that sometimes caught fire and burned for weeks. ¡°Let¡¯s get this going.¡± Alan patted Jess on the shoulder and headed back to the rear, where a large bag let out muffled whimpers and tears. Jess silently climbed into the driver¡¯s seat and punched the engine into drive. The oversized truck lurched into the radioactive swamp, its eight meaty tires immediately sinking halfway into the murky depths and churning black mud in frothy waves. Marc played with the radio, but was only able to pick up a weak and thready signal from Hive Al-Omeg, a hymn to the Lunar Princess, extolling how she¡¯d once descended to the earth on wings of silvery fire and brought salvation to the damned and downtrodden. The music wavered and faded in and out, drowned out by the hoarse scream of the rad counter. Driving through the swamps was a bad idea, though they¡¯d armored up the war-wagon as best they could. Whoever¡¯d made the thing had known what they were doing, the multipurpose vehicle could take a pounding that the trio could attest to in their mad race to escape Hive Al-Cestus with their cargo intact. ¡°Yep.¡± Marc agreed with himself, ¡°She¡¯s a beaut.¡± Onward they drove through the night, the rad counter clicking so much it was a throaty roar. Dawn arose on a sickly bruise of a sky, and the targets hadn¡¯t yet cleared the swamp. Evel¨ªna hummed a hymn quietly in Jeanne¡¯s ear as the Holy Knight patiently waited for her prey, Evel¨ªna¡¯s skin blending into the ashy brickwork of some crumbled structure, its function lost to time. Since the incident with Evel¨ªna¡¯s near death, the symbiotic bond between the two had grown more intense, to the point where Jeanne couldn¡¯t physically separate from Evel¨ªna. The addition of an additional Battlesuit Seed had connected the two of them so intimately that if she tried to exit the suit, the shock would likely kill her. The other Holy Knights of the Silver Princess had nodded knowingly when they¡¯d found out. Some could discard their biomechanical battlesuits when they died, others grew so attached to the pseudointelligence that inhabited each that they couldn¡¯t bear to part with them. ¡°How¡¯s the rad levels?¡± Jeanne asked, despite knowing without asking. Evel¨ªna immediately stopped humming. ¡°You could go for a stroll and never have a problem.¡± She replied back sweetly. ¡°Though I wouldn''t recommend breathing too deeply. The ash particle count would strangle you in minutes.¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Signs of our target?¡± Jeanne replied, not rising to Evel¨ªna¡¯s bait. There was no longer a need for the helmet viewscreen, Evel¨ªna¡¯s sensors were routed directly to Jeanne¡¯s brain. The armored truck with their capture target was still grumbling as it plowed its way through the swamp. ¡°I think they¡¯ll try to enter Al-Omeg.¡± Evel¨ªna murmured, an expected course of the vehicle appearing behind Jeanne¡¯s eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not giving up this position quite yet.¡± Jeanne replied. A cursor appeared on the mental map. ¡°We¡¯ll blow one of their tires here. Give them a shock.¡± Evel¨ªna immediately obliged Jeanne and a tendril separated from the battlesuit and formed itself into a long-barreled gun. ¡°If they¡¯re smart, they¡¯ll get out to check. That¡¯ll be the critical moment.¡± Jeanne muttered. ¡°If they were smart, they wouldn¡¯t have kidnapped the daughter of the Silvermein House.¡± Evel¨ªna countered. There was an audible tone in the battlesuit. ¡°It¡¯s now been twenty-six hours since you last ate something, Jeanne.¡± ¡°You ate plenty before we left.¡± Jeanne countered. ¡°You need to eat as well. I can¡¯t keep feeding you, you know.¡± Evel¨ªna countered. ¡°Remind me again in two hours.¡± Jeanne muttered. ¡°In two hours we will be in combat.¡± Evel¨ªna prodded. Jeanne sighed. ¡°Fine. Deploy rations.¡± She complained and Evel¨ªna obliged, singing along with the radio. The laconic Jess was sweating as he drove, occasionally mopping his brow. They¡¯d cleared the swamp, the rad counter only clicking background rads. Marc awoke to him muttering profanities in a very low whisper as he drove, his eyes fixed to the windshield in front of him. ¡°Oh ey, what¡¯s got you in a pinch?¡± He asked, and kicked Alan, who rolled to a sitting position, a stubby gun in his grimy fist. ¡°Eh, uh?¡± Alan asked, blinking as he looked around the truck. ¡°Sommin¡¯s got Jess in a pinch.¡± Marc reported. Alan eyed the sweating Jess. ¡°Shit. He¡¯s got the Sense, you know? Can sniff danger.¡± Alan warned. ¡°Punch it, Jess.¡± Jess shook his head. ¡°No point. We¡¯re made.¡± Alan immediately glanced at the dash. ¡°Rads?¡± ¡°Green.¡± Marc replied, confused. ¡°What¡¯s he mean ¡®we¡¯re made¡¯?¡± He asked. ¡°Whassat mean?¡± Alan slid one of the windows open and peeked out. All he could see was lumpy brown and gray hills, shattered buildings here and there. ¡°I don¡¯t see nothin¡¯, Jess.¡± Alan called to Jess, who was chanting a litany of profanity like a prayer. The wagon suddenly lurched, juked and slewed to the side. ¡°Shit, we lose a tire?¡± Marc called, suddenly wishing he had a gun to hold like Alan. ¡°Keep going!¡± Alan roared, and Jess¡¯ knuckles whitened on the steering column as he grimly punched the accelerator. Twin streaks of silvery fire suddenly launched upwards from the ruins of some building ahead of them, and Jess twisted the wheel as something cannonaded into the side of their wagon hard enough to rock them on their suspension. An armored fist, glassy black and luminous silver punched into the driver¡¯s cabin and tore one of the doors off. ¡°Shit! Terminatrix!¡± Alan yelled, opening fire fruitlessly. The Terminatrixes of the Church of the Princess were legends of death itself. Immortal, invulnerable, and couldn¡¯t be reasoned with. Marc soiled himself as a long blade lunged out from the Terminatrix¡¯ fist, punching through his gut and stapling him to the floor of the war-wagon¡¯s interior. He gurgled as his mangled guts desperately tried to send signals to his brain. Flames bloomed in the cabin as Jess jerked a pocket flamer from his belt and depressed the trigger. The flames caught on the greasy rags and towels in the cabin, igniting and cracking the fuel canisters. The trundling machine broke apart into a fiery conflagration surprising them all. Lunar Princess 03 Writing Prompt: "The stars didn''t seem right" Some nights the sky lit up in strange fires- nebulous violets, radioactive greens, brilliant yellows and oranges, strontium reds. The whole sky was a brilliant, seething mass of rainbow fire that terrified the commonfolk and caused the Hive City nobility to raise their lead shields and spend the evening entertaining their guests under the fitful light of electrics, indulging in pleasures that were deemed illegal, heretical, and banned at every level of governance. Holy Knight Jeanne of Block Seven in Hive City Al-Omeg unlatched her respirator mask and took a polite swallow from the drink she¡¯d been handed after disembarking from Evel¨ªna¡¯s warm embrace. Truth be told, she felt hollowed out and gutted when she wasn¡¯t with Evel¨ªna, but one didn¡¯t show up to a party dressed in a Smirtka Battlesuit. ¡°Ah, Sister Jeanne!¡± A graying man approached her, wisps of his hair blowing about his head like a halo. He was tall but thin, nearly emaciated. His face was dotted with rad scars, uncommon amidst the nobility. ¡°Lord Darren.¡± She greeted him politely, affixing her respirator and taking a few breaths. He gave her a baffled look. ¡°Is there something wrong with our air, Lady Knight?¡± He asked, his voice layered with familiarity, gentle humor, and concern. She shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not the air quality, old friend.¡± She replied, and then frowned at the grating, mechanical voice that came out of the vox. She took the mask away and repeated herself. ¡°It¡¯s life support.¡± She added. ¡°...¡± She started to add more, to explain that she could no longer live without being joined to her partner, her biomechanical battlesuit, but refrained. There was no point in explaining, and he wouldn¡¯t understand anyway. His brows rose alarmingly. ¡°Life support!¡± He exclaimed gently, tactfully keeping his voice low. ¡°Are you well? Will you be retiring from service?¡± He asked, concerned. She smiled a little, but shook her head and took a few more breaths. ¡°No retirement yet.¡± She replied. ¡°Well, that¡¯s good to hear. It brings me peace of mind to know your services will not cease.¡± He added, and took one of her hands in his. Three years ago, his House had been set upon by assassins, and though she had unintentionally and coincidentally saved his wife and daughter, he had always been kind, quietly supportive, and respectful to her. ¡°You¡¯re too kind.¡± She replied politely, and then took a few more breaths. ¡°I would have a request for you.¡± He asked, continuing to hold her strong right hand in his frail left. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± She asked, after taking the mask away. She liked the old man, and the harsh, grating tones of the vox wouldn¡¯t do for her friend. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that to the north, the skies are clear sometimes.¡± He lowered his voice discreetly. ¡°I¡¯d like to have a picture of Blessed Luna to give my wife and daughters.¡± She reattached her respirator while she thought. A picture of Blessed Luna, taken in a clear sky, would be considered a Holy Relic, something the Holy Church would covet. The idea that the skies were clear ¡°somewhere else¡± was a pure fantasy, however. There was never a point when the skies were completely clear. The air was filled with dirt and ash, the skies filled with viruses, chemicals, and nuclear crud from what scholars dubbed The Great Burn. ¡°I can head north for you, I suppose.¡± She decided, and then took another breath. ¡°Is there a deadline?¡± She asked. He shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s no rush. If there¡¯s a lull in your duties...¡± He passed her a tiny memory chip, which she palmed as a rotund man in opulent dress approached the two. She nodded and replaced her ventilator and took a few needed breaths as Lord Darren of House Darren stepped back, releasing her hand. ¡°Thank you for your service, Lady Knight.¡± Lord Darren said, more formally this time. She nodded crisply. The obese man, greasy with sweat, joined them. ¡°Ahh, a Lady Knight from the Lunar Temple!¡± He greeted. His voice was thick and breathy, his teeth clearly porcelain, his stubby fingers dripping with rings. Rather than greet him, she silently held out her hand. The greasy man frowned irritably, but kissed her ring respectfully. ¡°It is good to see one of your stature here at this gathering.¡± He greeted, noticing her markings of rank. ¡°You should keep your vices in check, Councillor.¡± She spoke through her vox at him. ¡°I can smell the stench of them on you. Perhaps a night of reflection and prayer would do you good.¡± His smile died by inches, and he retreated as Lord Darren gave her a respectful bow and left as well. Sister Irene joined Jeanne after hearing her sister¡¯s denouncement. ¡°Jeanne.¡± ¡°Sister Irene.¡± Jeanne greeted back. ¡°Be careful. Don¡¯t antagonize too much. These cretins are still technically our sponsors.¡± Irene warned gently. Unlike Jeanne, she wasn¡¯t wholly dependent on her Smirtka for survival. Jeanne unlatched her mask and took a polite drink. ¡°It must be terrible for you, to be chained to life support equipment like this.¡± Irene observed quietly. ¡°There¡¯s a silvery light in this night sky, Sister.¡± Jeanne replied quietly. ¡°When I¡¯m allowed to leave, I¡¯ll be rejoined with Evel¨ªna.¡± ¡°You miss her so much?¡± Irene asked curiously. Jeanne shook her head and immediately wished she didn¡¯t, as the room spun a little. ¡°You¡¯re young. You¡¯ll figure it out for yourself, eventually.¡± Jeanne replied, and then re-latched her respirator. ¡°Figure out what, Elder Sister?¡± Irene asked curiously, blue eyes wide above her veil. Jeanne took several stabilizing breaths. Without Evel¨ªna to filter the alcohol from her system, she had to depend on her own liver, a shoddy thing that seemed woefully inefficient compared to her partner¡¯s systems. ¡°For me, Evel¨ªna is more than a battlesuit. She¡¯s my partner, my friend...¡± She trailed off, and then shrugged. ¡°...and now I cannot be alive without being a part of her, and she of me.¡± She set down her drink and reattached her mask. ¡°I didn¡¯t just come to this party for the Church, you know.¡± Irene spoke up then, quietly. ¡°There¡¯s a package on the hoverpad for you.¡± Jeanne nodded a little, struggling against the alcohol¡¯s intoxicants. She closed her eyes and sighed, and with numb fingers, she loosened her respirator. ¡°I can¡¯t stay here any longer. Irene, please help me back to Evel¨ªna.¡± She complained. ¡°I won¡¯t be able to stand much longer.¡± ¡°Can you walk out of here?¡± Irene asked, already reattaching Jeanne¡¯s respirator. Jeanne shook her head slightly, so Irene walked with her to one of the exits, holding her up when Jeanne started to falter. Once out of sight and away from the party proper, Irene scooped up Jeanne and raced up the stairways towards the hoverpad, judging the elevator too slow. As Irene approached Evel¨ªna, she called out to the biomechanical battlesuit. ¡°Smirtka Battlesuit Evel¨ªna, I have your pilot Jeanne with me. I request your help-¡± The battlesuit opened, tendrils and mechanical armatures opening and reaching for Jeanne. Parts of the suit opened up like petals from a flower, the mechanical parts separated like metal teeth. As Evel¨ªna plucked Jeanne from Irene¡¯s grasp, stripped her life-support gear from her, and pulled her into itself, Irene couldn¡¯t help but shudder; the process looked too much like some sort of greedy digestion than when she climbed into her own Smirtka. The battlesuit churned and flexed in a disgustingly organic way, the night-black and silver lines of the battlesuit interlocking, pulling together. Finally, the death¡¯s head insignia appeared on the battlesuit and the eyes flared alight. Jeanne¡¯s voice called out from the Smirtka. ¡°According to Evel¨ªna, my drink was poisoned. If you hadn¡¯t gotten me out of there when you did, you might have taken my remains to the mulcher.¡± A bolt of adrenaline lanced through Irene¡¯s chest. ¡°Poison?!¡± She blurted, reaching for her wristpad to summon her own Smirtka. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if they dumped out the drink when we left the party.¡± Jeanne added. ¡°Chalk it up as a learning experience.¡± Her voice was frustrated. ¡°Mmm? Oh, right. Lord Warren gave it to me.¡± Jeanne continued, obviously talking with Evel¨ªna. ¡°We¡¯ll have a look when we have a minute.¡± Irene¡¯s own Smirtka arrived and opened for her. ¡°That package you were talking about?¡± Jeanne asked. Irene¡¯s own Smirtka disgorged a canister after Irene¡¯s reconnection. ¡°You were issued a Phoebe for your part in the issue with the Silvermein Family of Al-Cestus.¡± Irene replied, as if Jeanne didn¡¯t already know this. ¡°You are now allowed the use of plasma ordinance.¡± She let out a sigh. ¡°I am deeply envious of you, Elder Sister. I¡¯ve seen plasma ordinance in the test field and it is breathtaking.¡± Evel¨ªna accepted the installation of the plasma generator with a purr directly in Jeanne¡¯s ear. ¡°Listen to you.¡± Jeanne accused gently. ¡°You¡¯re more excited than I am to try it out.¡± ¡°In truth, I could probably generate plasma ordinance without this plasma generator.¡± Evel¨ªna murmured, and a flicker of indicators explained everything to Jeanne. Since Evel¨ªna contained two Seeds, there was an excess of power. With some modification of Evel¨ªna¡¯s systems, she would have been able create some rudimentary plasma weaponry. ¡°I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t decide to try.¡± Jeanne replied, mentally pulling up the files regarding the early days of plasma weapons trials. Evel¨ªna began her usual humming in Jeanne¡¯s ear. Jeanne toggled her comms. ¡°Installation successful. I¡¯m going to take a trip into the wasteland and fire off a test salvo.¡± She reported to Irene, and then sent a duplicate of her transmission to her Abbess, since all activity within a Smirtka had to be reported. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°I don¡¯t much like Hellena.¡± Evel¨ªna announced. ¡°Hmmm?¡± Jeanne asked. She was being lured to sleep by Evel¨ªna¡¯s work on her, cycling her blood through Evel¨ªna¡¯s filtration system and having it sent back into her. She felt weak and drowsy, and she trusted Evel¨ªna enough to keep her safe as they rocketed through the air. ¡°Irene¡¯s Smirtka. You couldn¡¯t tell?¡± Jeanne struggled to focus. ¡°I don¡¯t follow you at all.¡± She mumbled, and then fell asleep. Evel¨ªna hummed a lullaby in Jeanne¡¯s ear as they flew. Jeanne awoke as Evel¨ªna touched down. ¡°Where are we?¡± Jeanne asked, mentally pulling up her battlesuit¡¯s status, though she no longer had to do such a thing anymore, since they were now more or less permanently fused together. ¡°The coordinates you got from Lord Warren.¡± Evel¨ªna replied calmly. ¡°You slept the whole way.¡± ¡°Was it really that bad?¡± Jeanne asked, blinking and looking around in her battlesuit. They stood on a cliff she didn¡¯t immediately recognize, looking over a sludgy lake that shimmered with an oily iridescent sheen. ¡°The poison was easy to flush out of your system; the damage it caused, however, took time to fix.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°The sky.¡± Jeanne called. ¡°Warren said the sky would be clear here-¡± She cut off as she looked up. The sky was thick and choked with ash and dust, as usual. ¡°Clear skies for miles in every direction.¡± Evel¨ªna¡¯s sarcasm came through perfectly. ¡°Though strangely the air is quite clear at this spot. I don¡¯t understand why, but you wouldn¡¯t need an air filter here at all.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Jeanne asked doubtfully. ¡°Yes, really. It smells atrocious though, so I wouldn¡¯t recommend it.¡± Jeanne chuckled and Evel¨ªna shared the moment, chuckling along with her. ¡°Any way we could fly up above the crud?¡± Jeanne asked, already knowing the answer. Evel¨ªna gave her the answer she expected; it was categorically impossible to get above the crud in an unassisted battlesuit. ¡°Hmm. We¡¯ve got an excess of energy from two plasma reactors and we have a plasma generator, can we punch some holes in the crud with the ordinance long enough... or big enough to get the picture Warren wants?¡± Evel¨ªna sang in her ear as she ran the calculations. ¡°No, I don''t think so, Jeanne. Sorry.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. Jeanne sighed with frustration. ¡°Well, shit. I was kind of hoping...¡± She trailed off. ¡°I know. It¡¯s been a long time since we¡¯ve seen Luna.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°...we should move.¡± Jeanne suddenly decided, a sudden surge of uneasiness flooding through her. She triggered her jetpack just as the ground disappeared underneath her. ¡°Go, Evel¨ªna!¡± Jeanne cried as they lunged forward across the gap that had appeared underneath their feet. ¡°Holy shit, I don¡¯t know what happened there, but-¡± A display appeared in her vision, what looked like a vent had opened up underneath her. A blast of steam roared out, thick, hot clouds of moisture, water vapor that blasted upwards into the air. ¡°...geyser?¡± Jeanne asked, baffled. ¡°There¡¯s no record of it in the files.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°Though sonar says there¡¯s some bizarre seismic activity.¡± ¡°Bizarre?¡± Jeanne asked. The ultrasonic sensors assembled a three-dimensional image for her, and as the the waves permeated the bedrock, they revealed- ¡°Those... those look like tunnels.¡± ¡°An underground facility?¡± Evel¨ªna asked. ¡°Perhaps this is to be the site of a new Hive City?¡± She asked curiously. ¡°You think I would know something like that?¡± Jeanne asked sardonically. ¡°I¡¯m just saying-¡± Evel¨ªna began somewhat sourly, but then cut off. ¡°Something... big is coming from above, Jeanne.¡± she warned. Jeanne skipped backward with her jump jets a few steps, triggering the commands for her heavy-duty anti-tank rifle, a codeset she had received just before the Silvermein incident. ¡°Hey, can we-¡± Jeanne began, but Evel¨ªna cut her off just as quickly. ¡°Yes we can.¡± ¡°I love you.¡± Jeanne praised, and Evel¨ªna laughed as she began using the instruction sets to also assemble a heavy-duty long-range plasma rifle. ¡°I know. I love you, too.¡± Evel¨ªna sang in Jeanne¡¯s ear. ¡°Though, when I said ¡®big¡¯, I meant ¡®huge¡¯. Look at the thermal bloom.¡± Jeanne froze as the datasets overwhelmed her. Huge was right. The thermal bloom in the sky was overwhelmingly massive. It stretched for miles in every direction. There was no way to escape it. The sky lit up, then: brilliant colors of every part of the spectrum scattering, flashing, searing away to atomic dust as whatever bore down on the earth chewed through the ash, dust, radioactive and chemical clouds. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡± Jeanne mumbled, and blinked away tears. ¡°I¡¯m glad I got to see it with you, Evel¨ªna.¡± ¡°Me too, Jeanne. May the Lunar Princess carry our souls home-¡± She broke off as the lower-most clouds broke apart, revealing what had split the sky asunder. A triangular ship, bone-white, hovered above ground, silvery-white thrusters keeping it aloft. ¡°By the Princess.¡± Jeanne breathed. ¡°Evel¨ªna, are you recording this?¡± ¡°Of course I am.¡± Evel¨ªna replied back. ¡°What is it?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°I have no idea.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°Weapons lock?¡± Jeanne asked, her wonder and awe slowly fading. ¡°You want to fire on it?¡± Evel¨ªna asked with a certain skeptical incredulity. ¡°You think we could do damage to it?¡± Jeanne shot back. ¡°Well, locking on is no problem...¡± Evel¨ªna replied dubiously as targeting reticles panned the ship, targeting the thrusters and several telltale bulges that could be core systems. ¡°Targets locked.¡± Evel¨ªna offered, and then added, ¡°Though I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve got the output to do anything-¡± Suddenly there was a horrific blast of static that raced across every frequency, every tone, every spectrum as a beam of light illuminated Jeanne and her Smirtka. Jeanne, linked to Evel¨ªna as she was, even felt it blast across her nerves and skitter across her brain. She screamed hoarsely as her senses were replaced with pain. Blind, deaf, insensate, she triggered the command to fire, hammering the mental fire button in her head over and over. ¡°Frankly, I¡¯m unsurprised. Disappointed perhaps, but also unsurprised. We give them a gift, they turn it into a weapon to use on each other.¡± ¡°Commander, it seems she can hear us.¡± ¡°By all that is- is that wired directly into her nervous system?¡± ¡°It looks like part of it is growing in her brain-¡± ¡°Cut the power! Who knows what it¡¯s doing to the poor thing-¡± Jeanne was dreaming. In the dream she was sitting side-by-side with a woman that looked vaguely like her. Whenever Jeanne moved, the woman next to her would do the exact same thing. A woman appeared, wearing clothes Jeanne had never seen before. She was slim, nearly gaunt, her face severe and cold, her salt-and-pepper hair drawn into a bun at the nape of her neck. ¡°I¡¯ll forgive your... attack... on my ship,¡± her tone indicating just how pitiful Jeanne¡¯s attack was, ¡°if you¡¯ll forgive our scan. It seems your... suit... was ill-equipped to deal with a focused scan from my vessel.¡± ¡°That was... a scan?¡± Jeanne asked, baffled. The woman nodded. ¡°It hurt, didn¡¯t it?¡± She asked sympathetically. Jeanne nodded. ¡°I can imagine. Well, scanning something is basically throwing waves at it and seeing what bounces back.¡± Jeanne nodded. She knew that much, at least. Evel¨ªna was equipped with a full active and passive sensor package. ¡°Were you aware that Plant is merging with you?¡± The woman asked cautiously. ¡°Evel¨ªna? Jeanne asked. ¡°She¡¯s... my partner.¡± ¡°Well, obviously. I mean-¡± The lady sighed, frustrated. ¡°Look, I¡¯m honestly not cut out for these sorts of things.¡± ¡°What things?¡± Jeanne asked, trying to get Evel¨ªna to wake up. ¡°First contact. Interacting with the local tribes. That sort of thing.¡± The woman flapped her hands dismissively. ¡°So let¡¯s just agree that this didn¡¯t happen, all right? You didn¡¯t fire on my ship, I didn¡¯t nearly fry your brain with a sensor scan. Agreed?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t honestly say I know what¡¯s going on-¡± Jeanne began, but the other woman cut her off. ¡°Agreed?¡± She insisted. ¡°I, uh-¡± ¡°Agreed?¡± She insisted again, sternly. Numbly, not understanding, Jeanne agreed. ¡°Good! Great! I¡¯ve transmitted the necessary codes to your... partner... to undo the damage it¡¯s doing to you. We¡¯ll be on our way shortly.¡± Jeanne nodded at that, and the woman faded from view. ¡°Am I awake? Am I dreaming?¡± She asked, but nobody responded. After a while, with nothing to see, nothing to hear, and bored out of her mind, Jeanne decided to sleep. When Jeanne opened her eyes, she was laying in the dirt, and the massive ship was dropping large white boxes from a massive hatch on its underbelly, obviously some sort of cargo hold. The white boxes were disappearing from her line of sight. She tried to move and discovered she couldn¡¯t. ¡°Evel¨ªna?¡± She asked, but there was no response from her partner at all. ¡°Shit.¡± Her body had weakened since she¡¯d taken in the second Seed, but she could still stand up while in Evel¨ªna. She grimly struggled to her feet, remembering her novitiate days where she had been required to run inside Evel¨ªna¡¯s bulk. She hadn¡¯t had to use manual controls in a very long time. She ran through several startup sequences, frustrated that Evel¨ªna wasn¡¯t responding to anything, worried that since Evel¨ªna was basically responsible for keeping her heart beating, her lungs filled with oxygen, her- She stopped. Evel¨ªna wasn¡¯t responding at all, but Jeanne didn¡¯t seem to be having any problems. ¡°Execute Manual Code 57-E.¡± Evel¨ªna spit Jeanne out as ordered. Too late, Jeanne realized he¡¯d forgotten her respirator and filters. She clapped both hands over her face and ran to the rear of the Smirtka battlesuit, where she poked and prodded at the inputs of the Seed until it obliged and opened a hatch that contained a respirator mask with filters, a handful of rations, a water recirculator, and a handgun. She watched the ship load and unload those giant white boxes all day, blissfully unaware that she sat in the sunlight, a sunlight that was unfiltered by clouds, ash, radioactive waste, or anything. It was reaching evening when Evel¨ªna chirped in her ear. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡± Jeanne observed. ¡°I am.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°I would like to point out that the skycover is gone.¡± ¡°True enough. I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Did you remember that I told you that the air was breathable?¡± Evel¨ªna asked, and Jeanne shook her head. ¡°Completely slipped my mind.¡± ¡°When nightfall comes, we should be able to get an exceptional picture of Sacred Luna.¡± Evel¨ªna suggested. ¡°Oooh, I like that idea. We could take a few now. I think she looks especially lovely in this light.¡± Jeanne suggested. ¡°Done.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. As night approached, the giant triangular ship flared its thrusters and rose back up through the atmosphere, burning away the crud that was beginning to accumulate again. ¡°It¡¯s getting cold.¡± Jeanne observed. ¡°It¡¯s not cold in here.¡± Evel¨ªna invited. Jeanne got up, dusted off her legs, and walked back to her partner, who opened up for her. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking a lot of things while you were sleeping.¡± Jeanne announced as she climbed in, Evel¨ªna shifting around to accommodate Jeanne¡¯s movements. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°I think we should delete the stuff about that ship.¡± She decided. ¡°What ship?¡± Evel¨ªna asked sweetly, already deleting the footage. ¡°I like the way you think.¡± Jeanne observed, triggering Evel¨ªna¡¯s jump packs to where Evelina was suggesting would make the best spot to take a picture of the Silver Princess. ¡°We¡¯re partners, after all.¡± Evel¨ªna replied, already humming a hymn in Jeanne¡¯s ear as they flew through the air. As they took several pictures, Jean marveled, ¡°I have seen the moon- and sometimes the stars, even- through the clouds many times before.¡± She observed. ¡°But a clear night like this? The stars don¡¯t seem right.¡± ¡°Time to head home?¡± Evel¨ªna asked, showing a projected course. ¡°Time to head home.¡± Jeanne agreed. Lunar Princess 04 Writing Prompt: "The leaves fell in a swirling pattern" ¡°That one on the end.¡± Evel¨ªna whispered in Jeanne¡¯s ear, the HUD singling out a battered war-truck, painted in streaks of blue. ¡°Not on the manifest, probably an illegal immigrant to Al-Omeg.¡± ¡°Hmmm.¡± Jeanne replied, mentally going through the lists of protocols and procedures. ¡°Keep a weapon lock on him while I ping the Abbess.¡± Jeanne was on sentry duty, perched high up on the battlements above the intake to the Hive City of Al-Omeg. When the Holy Knights weren¡¯t crusading, they patrolled the city, guarded the entrances and exits, and- theoretically- kept watch on the nobility to make sure they didn¡¯t fall from the Lunar Princess¡¯ Holy Truth. Today, it was Jeanne¡¯s turn on The Wall, watching trucks and wagons roar in and out of the city. ¡°Abbess says weapons hot and free.¡± Evel¨ªna sang, and the targeting reticle that floated on the singled-out truck suddenly flashed red. Jeanne rocked slightly from the recoil; the heavy gun mounted on Evel¨ªna¡¯s biomechanics kicking as the anti-tank round kicked off from the gun and hammered through the truck¡¯s engine block. ¡°Why did you target the engine and not the driver?¡± Evel¨ªna asked curiously as Jeanne stood up, Evel¨ªna assuming a humanoid form. ¡°Deploy jetpacks. He needs to see who stopped him and understand why.¡± Jeanne replied, authoritatively. Jeanne felt the jetpack modules click into place even as Evel¨ªna produced several reticles as the passengers of the wagon attempted to scatter. Jeanne ran forward and leapt off the wall, confident her Smirtka battlesuit Evel¨ªna would kick on the jets and catch her as she fell. True to her faith in her partner, Evel¨ªna kicked on the jump jets so that Jeanne slammed into the truck gracefully, her heavy battlesuit punching through the heavy armor in the driver¡¯s cabin. ¡°They¡¯re scattering, you know.¡± Evel¨ªna sang to Jeanne. ¡±You can target them, you know.¡± Jeanne shot back. ¡°Ethics violation.¡± Evel¨ªna replied, her voice noticeably more mechanical. ¡°Nobility tags detected.¡± Most nobles wore cybernetic implants that broadcast a signal on an encrypted band, ostensibly to avoid or mitigate against kidnappings. The Church of the Lunar Princess had access to the full range of communication bands, and thus could locate any noble if they chose- though what this really meant was that they tried to avoid killing nobles if possible. ¡°Override; law violation.¡± Jeanne replied, and her weapon locks cleared. ¡°Negative on that. Round them up and escort them inside.¡± Abbess Cheryl broke into Jeanne¡¯s comms. Jeanne grit her teeth but re-engaged her weapon locks. ¡°Let¡¯s round them up. Non-lethal.¡± She complained to Evel¨ªna, who began singing to Jeanne even as she extruded biomechanical tendrils and Jeanne began chasing down the nobles and their bodyguards. After Evel¨ªna scooped up the nobles and their bodyguards, she began trotting towards the entrance of the city, the rounded-up men and women dangling from the long, arm-thick tentacles that Evel¨ªna had created with her body. ¡°Jeanne, this one is carrying a substance within his body that is non-standard.¡± Evel¨ªna selected one of the men who wore an expensive, tailored EVA suit, zooming in on the man¡¯s face. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®non-standard¡¯?¡± Jeanne asked, relaying the conversation to the Abbess. A side-screen popped up, showing how the man¡¯s blood was laced with something that pinged on the rad sensors. ¡°Whatever it is, it¡¯s killing him.¡± Evel¨ªna observed. ¡°He¡¯ll die in a week at the maximum.¡± ¡°What do you think it is?¡± Abbess Cheryl cut in. ¡°It¡¯s harmful, radioactive. I would recommend that whatever it is doesn¡¯t get into the food or water supply.¡± Evel¨ªna reported simply. ¡°He- along with the rest of them- attempted illegal entry. I suggest immediate sanction.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Scan the others.¡± Abbess Cheryl demanded. Evel¨ªna obeyed, and suddenly Jeanne¡¯s HUD was filled with warnings. All of the others that she¡¯d picked up were carrying canisters filled with similar liquids, hidden inside their bodies. She immediately passed the data to her Abbess. ¡°Terrorists of some kind?¡± The Abbess mused. ¡°We¡¯ve got the Smirtka¡¯s records, that¡¯s enough. They don¡¯t get into the city.¡± The tendrils that wrapped the nobles immediately flung each of the nobles in six separate directions, and then forming into plasma weapons. ¡°Oh boy.¡± Jeanne muttered even as Evel¨ªna launched six separate discreet packets of plasma, each enveloped in an electromagnetic bottle that decayed rapidly as it raced towards its target. There was a reason that people called plasma weapons ¡°star-throwers¡±. Plasma boiled away unshielded metals like candle-wax and chewed away the earth with the intense heat of a sun. There wasn¡¯t much of them left, more ashes that stirred in the breeze, like leaves. ¡°Six shots at once?¡± Jeanne gasped, struggling to stay conscious against the massive drain in her body. When Evel¨ªna grew tired, that feeling of exhaustion was transmitted back to Jeanne, and the power drain from using plasma was intense. Six shots was overwhelming. ¡°This wouldn¡¯t have been a problem if you¡¯d eliminated them properly.¡± Abbess Cheryl reprimanded over the vox. Jeanne frowned at that. If she¡¯d used plasma ordinance on the roadway, the road would have been damaged and she would have been reprimanded. If she¡¯d killed the driver and the rest had scattered, it would have been just as difficult- she cut her mental argument loose and mentally plotted her course back to the top of the Wall. Evel¨ªna accepted the return coordinates and Jeanne¡¯s jump jets flared to life, carrying her into the air. ¡°Evel¨ªna, begin power recirculation. I don¡¯t need you collapsing from lack of power.¡± Jeanne ordered, and then toggled a nutrient drink for herself. Evel¨ªna was one of the intelligent biomechanical armors that the Holy Knights of the Lunar Princess used in their day-to-day lives. She was a battlesuit, her growth directed towards combat. Her exclusive pilot was Jeanne, a senior knight in the Church, and until just recently, Evel¨ªna was beginning to colonize Jeanne¡¯s body in unrestricted growth. ¡°I¡¯m sending Knight Irene to relieve you. Come back to the Cathedral for a debriefing. Consider this incident sealed until I say.¡± Jeanne raised an eyebrow, and Evel¨ªna began humming the ¡°Threnody of the Lunar Princess¡±, a somewhat melancholic hymn, appropriate for funerals and death marches. ¡°You¡¯ve got a wicked sense of humor, Evel¨ªna.¡± Jeanne muttered as she stepped into the main airlock that allowed entry and exit into the Hive City of Al-Omeg. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The Hive City was just as the name described: A massive hive where millions of people lived and worked, its geothermal power structures digging deep into the planet¡¯s crust, followed by layers of manufactories and agri-farms, followed by habitation blocks and at the peak, the spires of the nobility and the Church. Uncounted throngs of people swarmed and milled about her, none of them willing to approach her, but helpless to avoid doing so; the press of bodies was that intense. ¡°We¡¯ll never get anywhere in this mess.¡± Jeanne muttered under her breath. ¡°Jetpacks?¡± Evel¨ªna suggested. ¡°Not here. I¡¯ve been reprimanded too many times for doing that.¡± Jeanne remarked sullenly. ¡°Well, of course!¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°They¡¯re the Lunar faithful! You shouldn¡¯t be killing them so indifferently.¡± ¡°I want to point out it was you who just suggested firing the jet packs.¡± Jeanne replied, looking for a place where she could safely separate herself from the crowd and fly up the spires to the Church of the Sacred Moon. ¡°Did I?¡± Evel¨ªna replied innocently, and then settled into humming a lullaby into Jeanne¡¯s ear, Evel¨ªna¡¯s unspoken encouragement for Jeanne to relax. An image appeared in Jeanne¡¯s HUD along with a map for Jeanne to use; a quick escape from the uncounted masses of people that thronged them. Jeanne¡¯s Smirtka Battlesuit suddenly extended long tendrils similar to the ones she¡¯d used to lasso the nobles she found outside, grappling onto structures capable of lifting the heavy battlesuit and the pilot. Using these structures, Jeanne was able to pull herself up and away from the highways far enough for Evel¨ªna to trigger her jetpacks without flash-incinerating the innocent, launching her upwards towards the higher points of the hive city. There was nothing beautiful or elegant about her flight; the jetpacks simply punched against the gravity of the world, shoving her through the air upwards towards her goal. ¡°Trajectory calculated, course fixed. You can rest if you like.¡± Evel¨ªna reported, showing the projected path of ascent. ¡°What would I do without you?¡± Jeanne asked the two and a half meter battlesuit, who laughed and hummed a lullaby in Jeanne¡¯s ear. Jeanne closed her eyes, but suddenly Evel¨ªna chattered in her ear. ¡°We¡¯re being targeted. Per Ethical Rules of Combat #B7748-A, a weapons lock indicates willful and malicious intent. Firing solution determined; engaged. Deploying countermeasures.¡± A searing bloom of fire erupted underneath them even as something clinked against Evel¨ªna¡¯s skin. Jeanne blinked a few times in confusion. ¡°What in the Princess¡¯ own name just happened?¡± She demanded. ¡°Someone tried to attack us.¡± Evel¨ªna¡¯s matter of fact response did nothing to explain the fading explosion beneath them. ¡°Forgive me; I need to readjust our trajectory.¡± ¡°I need more to work with than that!¡± Jeanne argued, to which Evel¨ªna replayed events for her. A hooded man, rad scars pockmarking his face, raised a handgun with a veridian targeting system attached to it. He fired at Jeanne¡¯s Smirtka battlesuit as she rocketed upwards; Evel¨ªna responded with a retaliatory strike from a plasma lance, which erased the entire area. The man¡¯s bullet had bounced harmlessly off of Evel¨ªna¡¯s armor. ¡°By the sludge, what the damnation was that?!¡± Jeanne complained. ¡°Plasma?!¡± She yelled. ¡°An acceptable countermeasure, according to the-¡± Evel¨ªna began, but Jeanne cut her off. ¡°Plasma¡¯s not acceptable for use inside the Hive City. We have non-plasma ordinance that you could have used.¡± Jeanne accused. ¡°Hmmm.¡± Evel¨ªna replied testily to Jeanne¡¯s admonishment. ¡°Shall I let you calculate an adequate threat response, then?¡± the Smirtka accused. ¡°Easy enough.¡± Jeanne lectured back. What did he use to attack us?¡± ¡°Standard 10mm civilian ammunition launched from a civilian-approved small arms weapon.¡± Evel¨ªna replied, a picture of the weapon appearing on Jeanne¡¯s display. It was, as the battlesuit reported, a simple handgun that any civilian could purchase that used ammunition that was likewise approved for civilian use. The only thing that was nonstandard was the fact that the man had a sophisticated targeting module affixed to the gun. ¡°And?¡± Jeanne demanded of the battlesuit. ¡°¡®And¡¯ what?¡± Evel¨ªna shot back. ¡°The damage?¡± Jeanne pressed. ¡°There was no damage.¡± Evel¨ªna replied smugly. ¡°I kept you safe.¡± ¡°You responded to a civilian gunshot with plasma. You probably killed at least fifty people with that shot.¡± Jeanne admonished. ¡°A single shot from non-plasma ordinance would have functioned just fine.¡± She fumed for a moment. ¡°When the Abbess learns of this, you will be the one to explain your reasoning. And if she decides to revoke our right to deploy plasma ordinance, I¡¯ll hear no bitching from you.¡± She stated flatly. ¡°You really think they¡¯ll take it away?¡± Evel¨ªna asked, suddenly worried. ¡°Of course they will.¡± Jeanne retorted. ¡°As it stands now, by my authority as a Holy Knight, I hereby weapons-lock plasma ordinance and forbid its use until further notice.¡± Several indicators toggled red, indicating the locks. Evel¨ªna fumed some more. ¡°We¡¯ve arrived.¡± Evel¨ªna reported tersely as gravity yanked them down to a launchpad outside of the Church of the Lunar Princess. The launchpad was immense, large enough for flight vessels to take off and land. Evel¨ªna adjusted her flight configuration and skimmed them across the surface of the flight deck as they approached the Cathedral¡¯s airlock. The great doors ground open, and Jeanne and Evel¨ªna entered the enormous bay that housed dozens of vessels capable of flight, each emblazoned with the silvery disk of the moon. ¡°Air filtration has improved.¡± Evel¨ªna mused, showing a chart. ¡°You could breathe this without a filter for a few hours, provided you weren¡¯t too choosy about having reconstructive surgery afterwards.¡± ¡°Toxins? Rads?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°Both.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°The particle count is significantly reduced, however. A level-3 air filter would be just fine.¡± ¡°Think I¡¯ll stay indoors, if you don¡¯t mind.¡± Jeanne replied, prompting a laugh from Evel¨ªna. The two and a half meter tall battlesuit carried Jeanne further into the Cathedral, a massive gothic edifice where thousands of the Churches faithful worked slavishly. She passed through the various checkpoints simply by wearing her Smirtka, the battlesuit alone was proof of her right to pass through those areas. The carved stone hallways were large enough to accommodate the biomechanical battlesuits, though there were very few who wore them inside the deeper recesses. Up until a short time ago, Jeanne was physically incapable of separating herself from Evel¨ªna without the use of cumbersome life-support equipment, but even if that were no longer the case, Jeanne preferred remaining in Evel¨ªna¡¯s embrace. Many senior Knights preferred to remain inside their suits, the bonds shared with their biomechanical sisters unshakable. Jeanne entered the Abbess¡¯ office, and the squat older woman immediately frowned up at them. ¡°Get out of that thing, Jeanne. You¡¯ve got some explanations to give.¡± She commanded. The Abbess¡¯ own Smirtka in standby against the wall. Evel¨ªna flowered open and Jeanne pulled herself out, affixing a filtration mask to her face. ¡°Why the use of plasma?¡± Abbess Cheryl demanded, flicking her hand at a pict-screen that showed Evel¨ªna firing six plasma lances at the ones Jeanne had apprehended. ¡°Evel¨ªna seems to have grown fond of it.¡± Jeanne complained. ¡°I¡¯ve weapon-locked the use of it for now.¡± The Abbess shook her head. ¡°It takes time for the Smirtkas to get used to plasma ordinance.¡± the Abbess replied. ¡°In my experience it¡¯s best to let them learn when it is and isn¡¯t appropriate to use it.¡± Jeanne turned to the Smirtka and held out her hand. ¡°Data module.¡± Evel¨ªna obediently extruded a tendril that presented a silvery-metallic chip that Jeanne plucked up. She gave Evel¨ªna¡¯s tendril an affectionate pat and then presented the module to the Abbess. The shorter woman plugged the chip into her desk and pulled up the records, flicking her hand as she swiped through the data, eyes skipping across the data. ¡°Well?¡± Cheryl asked curtly. ¡°Evel¨ªna used plasma ordinance inside the Hive when standard munitions would have been more effective.¡± Jeanne replied. The Abbess keyed up the record and scowled as she watched the man evaporated. ¡°I have some worries about that man.¡± Cheryl mused. ¡°There¡¯s been reports about terrorists from other Hives- Sludge-warped people bent on destroying what the Lunar Princess gave us. I¡¯d have you investigate, but-¡± The stout woman cut herself off. There wasn¡¯t much else to be said- with the man himself evaporated, there were no leads to follow. Jeanne motioned with her hands, and the Abbess stepped back a little. Jeanne swiped through the data until she pulled up the information on the man¡¯s weapon and the nonstandard targeting module. ¡°That¡¯s a Veridian targeting module. Expensive and sophisticated; not something you¡¯d typically find on a civilian-grade firearm.¡± Jeanne pointed out. ¡°There might be some hints there.¡± ¡°Custodian-class targeting systems on civilian ordinance? That¡¯s odd, it¡¯s true. Start from there.¡± Cheryl agreed, and then flapped her hand in a dismissive gesture. ¡°Go with the Moon¡¯s Blessing.¡± Jeanne nodded and Evel¨ªna flowered open for Jeanne. Lunar Princess 05 Writing Prompt: "The rains drenched her" Outside the Hive, it was hell. The air was filled with Crud, dust and ash stirred up by the winds that howled incessantly. The particulate matter was irradiated, filled with all manner of toxins, and deadly to humans. An unassisted human without filters would choke to death in minutes; someone with a standard filter could measure their lives with one sweep of an hour hand, though with the rads and toxins that constantly drifted down from the atmosphere, they¡¯d be riddled with cancerous tumors, incurable infections and deadly poisons, a gift left over from what the scholars in the Cathedral of the Moon called ¡°The Great Burn¡±. Holy Knight Jeanne strode through the howling grit in her Smirtka battlesuit, a biomechanical suit that protected her from the toxic wasteland, the choking clouds of Crud, and more importantly, from the treaded vehicles that were hunting her. ¡°Please tell me you¡¯ve recovered, Evel¨ªna.¡± She prayed as she leaned into the wind, mindful of her pursuers. Her battlesuit was silent, though the systems Jeanne could access were still functional to some extent. ¡°No comms, sensors are...¡± she muttered, awkwardly toggling through them as she moved, hopefully in the direction of Hive Al-Omeg. ¡°This is really inconvenient!¡± Jeanne shouted, trying to vent her frustration as she plodded onward. Normally she had Evel¨ªna, an artificial personality that inhabited the warsuit, to manage all the systems for her. ¡°Jetpacks are still offline.¡± She growled, frustrated. ¡°Weapons systems...¡± She shook her head as the displays shuddered and jittered. The Cult of the Worm was hunting her. They¡¯d tried to hit her with a blast of plasma- how did they get their hands on plasma?- but she¡¯d avoided a fatal hit. Even if she¡¯d avoided a direct hit, she¡¯d been caught in the electromagnetic field and as a result Evel¨ªna had gone silent and most of her systems had gone haywire. Plasma ordinance had three main stages: A targeting laser ionized the path of the plasma packet, the plasma was encapsulated in an electromagnetic field so that it wouldn¡¯t diffuse once it left the gun, and then the plasma more or less traveled the intended path the laser had designated to the target. Jeanne kept her eyes on the sensors, hoping to pick up anything but the swirl of static that made up the storm, but everything was blank and gray. She called up a local map and tried to pin down her location, but there was nothing to orient her since she couldn¡¯t pick up the beacon from Al-Omeg. She grimaced. There were too many systems that she needed to keep track of while at the same time trying to avoid being detected from the Cult, trying to find the Cult, and trying to find Al-Omeg. Evel¨ªna could manage all the systems without problem, providing all the necessary and relevant information Jeanne needed at a thought. ¡°Seed functionality.¡± She skimmed through the readouts- both of the Seeds appeared none the worse for wear- but she couldn¡¯t see anything that might¡¯ve damaged Evel¨ªna. She switched back to a normal view through Evel¨ªna¡¯s eyes and spotted a cluster of ruins. She could spend some time in there while she tried to find a way to recover. The problem was that she couldn¡¯t control Evel¨ªna¡¯s ability to change her configurations, and so even things like sitting or standing would be impossible. ¡°Frustrating.¡± She complained, and once again flipped through the sensor package readouts, most of which were down. ¡°By the Princess.¡± She complained as she leaned against an ancient concrete wall and went hunting through the various life-support systems to find a way to trigger the dispenser for a nutrient drink. ***** ¡°We can¡¯t find the Terminatrix.¡± Dennis grumbled, wrenching the wheel of the transport and killing the engine. The generator that supplied power to the plasma lance whined a little as it churned. He had no idea whether or not it was supposed to do that, so he was filled with worry that it would fracture and evaporate them. He turned to his compatriot. ¡°Any idea where she might be?¡± He asked. ¡°She¡¯s dead.¡± Drift replied, waving a hand that was stained with machine oil dismissively. ¡°Plasma got her.¡± Dennis shook his head. ¡°If you really believe that, why don¡¯tcha go out there?¡± He asked. ¡°Fuck that.¡± Drift replied. ¡°See? Dennis replied, feeling vindicated. ¡°Rumor is that they can¡¯t die.¡± a greasy and somewhat pudgy woman called from the improvised gunner¡¯s seat. Both of the men had stopped fucking her, neither of them could stand her smell long enough to enjoy what pleasures they could get. Whether it was from her own disinterest in hygiene or the fact that they were wedged in tight in the improvised war wagon and thus didn¡¯t have room for such niceties couldn¡¯t be said. ¡°Everything dies.¡± Drift replied. ¡°Not them.¡± the woman avowed. ¡°You can try and kill ¡®em, but they¡¯ll just keep coming. Blow off an arm and they¡¯ll regrow it.¡± ¡°Blow your arm off.¡± Dennis griped under his breath and peered through the windshield at the churning clouds of dust and ash that swirled past, just a few inches from his face. ¡°Just say she¡¯s gone so we can head back to the crack.¡± the woman complained. ¡°I¡¯m stewing in my own sweat.¡± ¡°She ain¡¯t dead unless you show me a body.¡± A voice crackled across the comm system. ¡°Kinda hard to show you a body with a friggen plasma cannon.¡± Dennis shot back. ¡°There you go, then: Find her and kill her. I don¡¯t care how long it takes you.¡± The comm clicked off. ¡°Bastards.¡± Dennis swore. ¡°Like to take his head and shove it in the Sludge.¡± ¡°Careful.¡± Darah called from her gunner¡¯s roost. ¡°You say that shit and maybe it¡¯ll be you in the Sludge.¡± She warned. ¡°Else they strip you naked and toss you out in the Crud.¡± The Sludge was a mess of industrial chemicals, radioactive wastes, toxic acids, and pollutants so vile it was possible to die just from breathing in the fumes- the unrecoverable waste product of a Hive City. It pooled and puddled around the base of each Hive City like a befouled moat, shrouding the city in its stink. ¡°So where is she?¡± Dennis asked helplessly. ¡°If she ain¡¯t dead, where is she?¡± ¡°She prolly flew off to get reinforcements.¡± Darah called back. ¡°I dint see her fly off.¡± Dennis replied. ¡°Prolly ran off, then.¡± Darah replied. ¡°To where?¡± ¡°...the City?¡± Drift offered with a shrug. His entire purpose in the vehicle was to keep the engines running in their war wagon, and if it didn¡¯t have to do with the engine, the transmission, or any of the other things he spent his time fixing, he didn¡¯t care. ¡°...automap working?¡± Dennis asked hopefully. ¡°Nawp. Cooked a circuit when we fired the cannon.¡± Dennis replied. ¡°We got the Al-Omeg beacon and some maps that¡¯ll have to do.¡± Dennis fired the engine after Drift brought a tablet with a map forward, and began moving the truck forward on its tracks. ***** It was hard to fall asleep standing upright, Jeanne judged, but it wasn¡¯t impossible. She¡¯d been able to catch an hour¡¯s nap before her suit started beeping. She prodded the list of programs and suddenly the radio system flared to life, Al-Omeg¡¯s tower broadcasting hymns to the Lunar Princess. ¡°Now if I could only use it as a beacon.¡± She muttered as she inspected the various systems. Her weapons suite was still offline. The active sensor package was offline. The jetpack looked to be perfectly functional, but was also offline. She would have slumped with resignation if the Smirtka had allowed it; she basically could only listen to the radio, monitor the passive sensor package, and run. She toggled back to the status of the Seeds. The first Seed was the original, the one that housed Evel¨ªna¡¯s personality, along with all the programs that managed everything in the battlesuit and kept Jeanne alive. The second Seed was one she¡¯d plucked herself, back when Evel¨ªna was dying. With the addition of the second Seed, Evel¨ªna was able to return to service, albeit with problems that they¡¯d had to overcome together. She tapped the part of the screen that displayed the original Seed and looked for errors or problems. ¡°Not that I know what they look like.¡± She muttered under her breath. ¡°Jeanne?¡± Evel¨ªna¡¯s voice filled her ear. ¡°By the-¡± Jeanne managed to get out before Evel¨ªna burst into a near-incoherent babble of relief and gratitude. ¡°So what happened?¡± Jeanne asked her partner after the Smirtka calmed itself down. ¡°You disappeared.¡± Evel¨ªna replied, ¡°which was very strange. I knew you hadn¡¯t disembarked, but none of my sensory packages would report that you were within.¡± ¡°Strange. I pulled up everything I could, but I couldn¡¯t figure out a way to use anything. Just managed to get the passive sensors and the radio working.¡± Jeanne mused. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Now that you mention it, those systems seem to be misbehaving. Would you explain what you did?¡± Evel¨ªna asked. ¡°Perhaps I can figure out what has happened.¡± Jeanne explained everything she could to Evel¨ªna, while the AI cogitated. ¡°I think it has to do with the second Seed.¡± Evel¨ªna finally decided. ¡°Hmmm?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°It has no Personality Helix installed, and it currently has no direct access to my systems- except for what you did, activating the passive sensors and radio.¡± The passive sensors came online and Jeanne flinched as two of the makeshift tanks she¡¯d been battling appeared on her HUD just a few meters away. ¡°By the-¡± Jeanne started to swear again, reaching for the weapons systems by reflex. This time they came online, ammo counters appearing in the lower right of her vision. ¡°Wait, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna warned. ¡°We¡¯re pinned down.¡± A three-dimensional map appeared and showed that two more tanks were approaching from the rear. The moment Jeanne engaged one, all of them would attack, and she was sandwiched between two of them that had direct line-of-sight with her. ¡°If we wait for the other two to pass, we can attack from behind, increasing our survivability.¡± Evel¨ªna advised. ¡°Your reasoning?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°Their cannons can¡¯t traverse. The whole vehicle has to turn around. Attacking from behind is the wise choice, especially considering they have Type Four plasma generators.¡± ¡°I am getting real tired of the Worm Cult getting their hands on high-grade ordinance!¡± Jeanne swore. ¡°Can we jump behind them?¡± she asked, envisioning using the jetpack to launch herself up to arc over the rear tanks, and then beginning her assault. ¡°If you do that, they¡¯ll target you with the plasma. You might be able to dodge the first salvo, but by the time you landed, they would have turned to face you.¡± Evel¨ªna replied back, playing out the scenario on the map. ¡°Ugh.¡± She complained. ¡°Wait- why haven¡¯t they attacked?¡± Evel¨ªna¡¯s voice immediately dripped with smug self-satisfaction. ¡°I turned on the active camouflage.¡± Jeanne sighed with relief. ¡°All we need is something to pass the time while we wait.¡± ¡°Would you like to listen to their radio traffic?¡± Evel¨ªna offered. ¡°Absolutely.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Record it, too.¡± Her ears were filled with chattering gutterspeak as the four tanks yammered, gossiped, and joked and stepped over each others transmissions. Occasionally they¡¯d ask each other if they¡¯d seen the ¡®Terminatrix¡¯, the commoner name for the Holy Knights. ¡°I wanna get back to the crack. Being out in the Crud is just killing me.¡± Someone piped up and there was a chorus of agreements from each tank. ¡°You can come back when the Terminatrix is dead.¡± A cool, crisp, and educated voice piped up. ¡°You don¡¯t come back until then.¡± ¡°What if we run out of water?¡± A woman¡¯s voice asked cautiously. ¡°Drink your piss for all I care.¡± The voice replied. ¡°We need to keep that Moon-witch away from our workings, so you stay out there until you bring me back her head.¡± The radio band went silent, then. ¡°So what¡¯s this ¡®crack¡¯ they were talking about?¡± Jeanne asked. Evel¨ªna pulled up the map, zoomed out, and then zoomed back in further north. ¡°My best guess.¡± She replied. ¡°We were near there when we were attacked. There¡¯s a seismic crevice in the ground here.¡± ¡°Chart a course. As soon as these assholes pass us by, that¡¯s where we¡¯re headed.¡± Jeanne decided. ¡°Are you certain you want to leave these war machines alone?¡± Evel¨ªna asked, unsure. ¡°They¡¯re scum.¡± Jeanne replied simply. ¡°Scum with plasma ordinance, but scum, nonetheless. The real target is up there. I think we¡¯ll catch something of real value up there.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going on record that I oppose this plan.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. Jeanne frowned, but nodded. ¡°Okay.¡± The tanks crept by, moving slowly. Jeanne could see the drivers peering out of the windshields of their heavily modified war wagons as they passed. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Jeanne commanded, and Evel¨ªna launched them into the air. ¡°The Crack¡± did refer to a massive crack in the earth, a crack that was staked out with electric torches that flickered in the howling winds. ¡°Well, let¡¯s go in.¡± Jeanne offered. ¡°Solid munitions only, small caliber against soft targets. Ideally we want to capture as many as we can.¡± ¡°As my Lady Knight commands.¡± Evel¨ªna replied, clearly disappointed. ¡°You wanted to use plasma ordinance, didn¡¯t you?¡± Jeanne asked as they descended into the crevice. ¡°Yes, yes I did.¡± Evel¨ªna replied sulkily. ¡°Who knows, maybe you¡¯ll get your chance.¡± The crack¡¯s bottom was flattened out enough so that vehicles could be driven in or out, and according to the amount of tracks, a lot of them had passed through. Jeanne¡¯s suit suddenly stopped. ¡°I¡¯m detecting infrared emitters. Likely simple tripwires or detection systems.¡± Evel¨ªna reported. ¡°Show me.¡± Jean commanded, and her vision was filled with an overlay. Evel¨ªna drew in red lines for the emitters. ¡°Huh.¡± Jean muttered as she carefully stepped over or crawled under the beams as time and necessity dictated. ¡°Keep monitoring the radio, and let me know if something interesting pops up.¡± Jeanne commanded, which was met by Evel¨ªna¡¯s delighted laughter. ¡°There¡¯s always something interesting happening on the radio.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. The crevice¡¯s gray walls were a stark difference from the brown and ashy surface. Striated bands of stone spoke a geological story in ribbons of gray, black and white. The further down they went, the more it was evident that the crevice had been widened out by human hands. As they continued, more lights appeared, and they entered a cavern where several more improvised tanks sat. One of them was being worked on by a filthy man wearing tattered rags and a filthy face mask. ¡°He¡¯s suicidal.¡± Jeanne observed with clinical detachment. ¡°No, rads are clear. Air¡¯s almost completely breathable, too.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°Then he¡¯s just insane. Evel¨ªna, silent takedown.¡± Jeanne ordered. A number of wrist-thick tentacles snaked towards the man, who was still comfortably oblivious to them. One wrapped itself around his head, another around his torso. With a wrench and a crack, the man went limp. ¡°How are you going to hide the body, Jeanne?¡± Evel¨ªna asked curiously. ¡°Stuff him under one of the tanks. Check to see if there¡¯s plasma generators.¡± Evel¨ªna scanned the tanks even as her tendrils pushed the body of the man under the body of one of them. ¡°They¡¯re all armed.¡± Evel¨ªna reported to Jeanne. ¡°Where are they getting them?¡± ¡°We could try to have a look. After all, there¡¯s not a lot of flexibility in a firefight, ¡°oh excuse me sir, might I have a look at the serial number on your generator?¡±. It was weird to hear Evel¨ªna imitating Jeanne¡¯s voice so closely. Uncomfortable. ¡°Fine. Have a look, but be quick about it. I want to go deeper.¡± Evel¨ªna¡¯s tentacles oozed over the improvised cannon and after a moment an access panel was torn away. A long serial number appeared on Jeanne¡¯s display. ¡°Catalog it and save it for later. Put a remote detonator on all of them. Win or lose, pass or fail, these generators get vaporized.¡± They headed downwards, deeper into an underground complex. ¡°Things might be grim if I can¡¯t fit in these tunnels, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna warned. They moved slowly and carefully, Evel¨ªna¡¯s active camouflage masking them from cameras. ¡°Mapping complete. This facility is extensive. It penetrates Al-Omeg.¡± Evel¨ªna reported. Jeanne immediately frowned. ¡°The time for subtlety has passed. Remote trigger the explosives on the plasma generators back the way we came.¡± She commanded, and there was an immediate tremble in the floor, followed by the blaring of alarms. ¡°Comms are hot.¡± Evel¨ªna reported. ¡°Lots of radio traffic.¡± ¡°...and?¡± Jeanne prompted. ¡°It¡¯s to be expected- orders to find out what happened. Targets inbound.¡± Evel¨ªna reported, and then provided a map with moving dots rushing towards them. ¡°Remember what I said about ammunition.¡± Jeanne reminded her partner, who sulkily agreed moments before a double dozen men and women equipped with both tools and weapons charged towards them. ¡°Open fire.¡± Jeanne commanded as she shifted Evel¨ªna¡¯s form to assault form, a two-meter tall armored human with a grinning metal death¡¯s head emblem. Shoulder mounted weapons picked out targets with sharp cracks as she swept into them, metallic arms slashing with thirty-six inch metal blades punching through armor, cutting flesh, shredding vital organs. ¡°Priority target!¡± Evel¨ªna warned Jeanne as Evel¨ªna grappled one of the women and lifted her into the air, pressing the screaming woman against the granite ceiling. ¡°Lucky!¡± Jeanne called out. ¡°I was about to gut her!¡± ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡± Evel¨ªna replied smugly. ¡°Beginning pacification.¡± Jeanne kicked on the leg thrusters so that she could accelerate down the hall while Evel¨ªna divested the woman of weapons and clothes. ¡°There should be at least three more capture targets.¡± Evel¨ªna advised. ¡°Two of them received orders from a third. From the radio traffic I¡¯ve been monitoring, it¡¯s an older woman.¡± ¡°They know we¡¯re here?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°Not yet. They¡¯re worried about the explosion.¡± Evel¨ªna replied, and then paused. ¡°You¡¯re going to need to prepare for combat, Holy Knight Jeanne.¡± She finally added in a much more subdued voice. ¡°Hard target?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°The worst.¡± Evel¨ªna agreed. ¡°I highly recommend the use of plasma ordinance.¡± ¡°Give me details!¡± Jeanne ordered, and Evel¨ªna replied soundlessly by hacking into the compound¡¯s camera and security system. An older woman that was very familiar to Jeanne was climbing into a Smirtka Battlesuit. ¡°I cannot willfully engage in non-training combat with another Holy Knight, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna warned. ¡°Override.¡± Jeanne commanded. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Jeanne, I can¡¯t do that.¡± Evel¨ªna immediately returned in a much more mechanical voice. ¡°Disable safety protocols.¡± Jeanne tried. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Jeanne, I can¡¯t do that.¡± Evel¨ªna repeated again. Jeanne canceled her thrusters and slid to a stop, the bladed feet digging grooves into the stone flooring. ¡°I am authorizing the release of plasma ordinance.¡± Jeanne commanded. ¡°Authorization recognized; plasma ordinance available at your discretion.¡± Evel¨ªna replied in a much more normal tone of voice. ¡°Transmit data packet to Holy Knight Irene. Use a scrambled channel. I¡¯ll leave it to you to pick one. Hopefully...¡± Jeanne muttered, frustrated, ¡°Hopefully she can be trusted.¡± ¡°Data transmission successful.¡± Evel¨ªna replied almost immediately. ¡°Was it snooped by- by- ... our target?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°Not sure.¡± Evel¨ªna replied doubtfully. ¡°Primary target has moved into the agri-farm area of Al-Omeg.¡± ¡°Shit. She¡¯s getting away.¡± Jeanne hissed. ¡°I¡¯d like to remind you that under my current configuration I cannot engage another sister of the Church of the Lunar Princess.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°I know.¡± Jeanne complained. ¡°I will remind you that there is another Seed equipped in this Battlesuit-¡± Evel¨ªna began, but Jeanne cut her off. ¡°I¡¯m following you. How do I engage the Seed without having to do everything manually? Far chance she¡¯ll be under the same lockouts.¡± Jeanne explained. ¡°I am currently deploying a rudimentary Construct Helix that should provide some automation. However, I will not be able to provide you with any tactical or battle assistance once you switch to that Seed.¡± ¡°Why not copy yourself?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°The lockouts are part of my core programming.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°I¡¯ll keep a protocol pipe open so that I can observe, but I will not be able to assist you- even to provide life support- once you engage. All combat activities will need to cease before I can assist you.¡± Jeanne let out a sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± The rains drenched Holy Knight Jeanne of Al-Omeg as she burst into the Agri-Farm district, target reticles flashing red on her display as she prepared to face Abbess Cheryl. Lunar Princess 06 Writing Prompt: ¡°It imploded spectacularly¡± All things considered, the Cathedral of the Lunar Princess took the sight of Abbess Cheryl¡¯s smoking and shattered wreck of a battlesuit well. Which is to say, the Cathedral imploded spectacularly when Holy Knight Jeanne revealed their most Revered Abbess was the local leader of the Cult of the Worm, a nihilistic cult that wanted nothing more than the complete annihilation of the Hive Cities. Without the linchpin of the Abbess to hold the Cathedral together, factions rose quickly. ¡°It¡¯s possible to get oversight from one of the other Hives, I suppose...¡± Knight Irene mused on the flight deck with Jeanne. The older knight shook her head. ¡°There isn¡¯t a Knight alive that would accept oversight from another Hive and you know it.¡± she replied. Irene grimaced, and then blurted, ¡°Then what should we do? Do like the others and work for the nobility like common mercenaries?¡± Jeanne¡¯s faction contained herself, a few of the senior knights like Irene, Tabitha, and Galatea, and the greater share of neophytes. At a glance Jeanne¡¯s faction seemed to be the largest, but since Jeanne lacked the leverage of the other factions that had fallen under noble authority and had effectively become mercenaries for the Houses, she was actually the weakest. ¡°...at least we managed to hold onto the Cathedral.¡± Jeanne muttered. Irene nodded. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to keep it for long, however. Sooner or later Alicia or Clarice¡¯s factions will come hunting for Smirtka Seeds, and we won¡¯t be able to keep them away.¡± ¡°We need the Cathedral¡¯s manufactory Plants to keep working for us while keeping them away from the other factions.¡± Jeanne agreed. ¡°Did Teresa and the retired Paladins send a response?¡± Jeanne asked, resting in Evel¨ªna¡¯s embrace. ¡°Still silent.¡± Irene replied. ¡°Merde.¡± Jeanne swore. ¡°It¡¯s my hope that one of them will take the position of Abbess.¡± ¡°You could take it, you know.¡± Irene urged. ¡°You have our support.¡± Jeanne shook her head. ¡°I know little of administration. Give me a sword and a gun and point me at the enemy and I will fulfill my duty, but...¡± She trailed off. ¡°I can lead a squad, but a Cathedral?¡± She made Evel¨ªna shrug her massive shoulders. ¡°Thermal bloom on the long range sensors, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna warned. ¡°Can you give me a target lock, or are you still in lockdown?¡± Jeanne asked. Evel¨ªna swore at Jeanne in her sweet voice and a target lock appeared on her display. ¡°You¡¯re the best partner.¡± Jeanne murmured. ¡°I know.¡± Evel¨ªna purred. It was another Smirtka, a biomechanical battlesuit, and it was on approach from much higher up; likely one of the Knights that had sold themselves out to a noble house. ¡°Irene-¡± Jeanne began, but was interrupted. ¡°Hellena warned me already.¡± Irene replied crisply. ¡°Evel¨ªna still doesn¡¯t like Hellena, by the way.¡± Jeanne frowned, but decided against admonishing her partner. Instead, she repositioned herself on the thick metal plating of the flight deck. ¡°Let¡¯s make this an exercise for the neophytes. Evel¨ªna, sound a general call to arms and order them to stand by in the trainer suits. Live ammunition is to be provisionally distributed.¡± Evel¨ªna began humming to herself as Jeanne¡¯s command was piped through the Neophyte¡¯s quarters. She could see in a small side screen the young women streaming from their barracks and heading to the hangars. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Connecting to Hellena.¡± Evel¨ªna piped up. ¡°Uploading logical paradox #718.¡± Jeanne gaped. ¡°Why are you sending Irene logical paradoxes?¡± She blurted, her voice hot as she tracked the descent of the Smirtka. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± Evel¨ªna replied defensively. ¡°I¡¯m sending them to Hellena.¡± ¡°You will stop this sort of behavior.¡± Jeanne ordered. ¡°Release locks on plasma ordinance and mode-shift to rapid-fire mode.¡± One thing that Jeanne was able to discover was the ability to rapid-fire plasma weaponry, something thought impossible before due to the power drain. More, she could do it while in flight mode, something everyone believed to be both miraculous and impossible. The secret was that rapid-fire consumed very little energy, since the salvos were trading power for quantity, and the fact that Evel¨ªna had two Seeds, thus allowing her to devote power to both the jump jets and the plasma ordinance. ¡°IFF?¡± Jeanne asked as she brought the standard munitions online as well. She really didn¡¯t want to have to resort to standard munitions, since there wasn¡¯t enough to go around. ¡°Target is not broadcasting IFF codes on standard channels.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. The Smirtka slammed into the flight deck, the battlesuit deploying claws that anchored it to the deck as the jump jets screamed, searing the air as they whirred to a standby. ¡°Identify yourself.¡± Jeanne demanded as the Smirtka deployed weapons. ¡°You first.¡± A harsh, bitter voice grated back at her across the vox. ¡°Holy Knight Jeanne of Block Seven.¡± She replied. ¡°And that one?¡± The voice indicated Irene. ¡°Holy Knight Irene of Block Three.¡± Irene replied, her heavy penetrator rifle trained on the Smirtka¡¯s midsection. A shot to the gut would penetrate just under the heavy chestplates and tear apart the woman within. ¡°Paladin Abigail.¡± the grating woman¡¯s voice replied. ¡°Stand down, Evel¨ªna.¡± Jeanne ordered, and the battlesuit acquiesced, retracting the plasma weaponry. ¡°Not going to tell Knight Irene to do the same?¡± Abigail grated across the comms. ¡°I will, if you¡¯re here to talk.¡± Abigail chuckled, her laugh sounding like shards of glass being crushed. A moment later, the Smirtka¡¯s weapons retracted, and the jetpacks powered down. ¡°Satisfied?¡± Abigail asked. ¡°Jeanne?¡± Irene asked, and Jeanne affirmed. ¡°Stand down.¡± ¡°My battlesuit Nike will send the two of you data. Accept it.¡± Abigail snapped crisply. ¡°Dump it to the aux Seed on an isolated partition, just in case.¡± Jeanne urged Evel¨ªna. ¡°It¡¯s a codec for an encrypted channel- tagged Splinter3849.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°Connect to the channel.¡± Jeanne advised, and urged Irene to do the same. ¡°You¡¯re too trusting, Knight.¡± Abigail grated across the secured channel. ¡°Still, this secured channel allows us to talk without listeners prying in.¡± ¡°Do you bring word from the retired Paladins?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°I do. We want to know why a Knight thinks to pull us out of retirement.¡± Abigail grated. ¡°I think what I said was pretty obvious.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°We need structure. Organization. We need knowledgeable women that can reclaim the leadership of-¡± ¡°And this is our problem how?¡± Abigail cut her off. Jeanne grit her teeth. ¡°We have no administration, no infrastructure, no engineers. We¡¯re fighters, but we¡¯re loyal to the Cathedral. We need leadership.¡± Abigail let out a very long sigh. ¡°You¡¯ve lost a lot.¡± She finally admitted. ¡°I like Nike.¡± Evel¨ªna murmured in Jeanne¡¯s ear. ¡°She likes logical paradoxes.¡± ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Jeanne shouted at Evel¨ªna. Evel¨ªna let out a delighted laugh, and started humming. ¡°Something wrong, Knight Jeanne?¡± Abigail offered tersely. ¡°It seems my Smirtka has taken a liking to yours.¡± Jeanne offered lamely. There was a pregnant silence. ¡°Ah. I see. It¡¯s fine. Nike seems to like yours as well.¡± Jeanne let out a pained sigh. ¡°The tentative decision of the Paladins is that we will take the Abbess position and the senior staff positions as well. We¡¯ll need the gene-gineers, engineers, serfs, and instructors reclaimed.¡± Jeanne nodded, and repeated what she¡¯d said to Irene. ¡°I can lead a squad into battle, but I¡¯m ill-suited for leadership.¡± She explained. ¡°As long as we¡¯re true to the Lunar Princess and we follow the Tenets of the Cathedral, then I am happy to follow the leadership of the Paladins.¡± Abigails¡¯ battlesuit nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll speak again, and soon.¡± Lunar Princess 07 Writing Prompt: ¡°He cackled maniacally but found himself plummeting into darkness¡± Jeanne found Irene running maintenance scans on her battlesuit. ¡°Something wrong with Hellena?¡± Jeanne asked curiously, taking Irene¡¯s dataslate and flicking through the various screens with a practiced finger. ¡°I always run a manual scan whenever Evel¨ªna is around her.¡± Irene mock-accused. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that Evel¨ªna is just being friendly.¡± Jeanne remarked somewhat defensively. ¡°Cogitator viruses and logical paradoxes are hardly what I¡¯d consider ¡®friendly¡¯.¡± Irene replied, shooting a sour gaze at Jeanne. Jeanne sighed. Evel¨ªna had been through a lot in the past solar year. System degradation from radiation that had only been resolved by installing a second Seed, which in turn had triggered rapid and unchecked metastasis throughout Jeanne¡¯s own body. That had been corrected somehow through their encounter with those that followed the Lunar Princess. Evel¨ªna had taken a hard burst of electromagnetic rads from a plasma weapon that had been given to terrorists by Jeanne¡¯s own Abbess, plus the resultant fight and civil war that immediately followed. ¡°Evel¨ªna¡¯s been through a lot.¡± Jeanne offered tiredly. ¡°I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive her.¡± Irene rolled her eyes at Jeanne. ¡°I can forgive her for your sake. Try to keep her in line, for my sake.¡± She rebutted. Jeanne examined the screens from the dataslate. The battlesuits were biomechanical in origin, a purely mechanical frame that was bonded to a symbiote that was derived from the original Plant technology that had been given to them by the Lunar Princess. The Seed was a combination of organic computer core and reactor, slotted into the mechanical shell and managed by the pilot. Evel¨ªna was unique in that she had two Seeds because Jeanne couldn¡¯t stand to witness Evel¨ªna¡¯s death. ¡°Maybe this is her idea of courtship?¡± Jeanne asked. Irene scoffed. ¡°If that were the case, she¡¯d be more interested in Abigail''s Nike. That one seems to enjoy Evel¨ªna¡¯s... pranks.¡± Jeanne sighed again, and changed the subject. ¡°What¡¯s your mission?¡± ¡°Hive crawl today.¡± Irene muttered irritably. ¡°I wanted to accompany you to Al-Cestus.¡± Jeanne shrugged. ¡°No rest for the wicked.¡± She replied simply. ¡°You really should have a second with you.¡± Irene insisted. ¡°Al-Cestus is a wretched hive of scum and villainy.¡± ¡°So is Al-Omeg.¡± Jeanne pointed out. ¡°Keep an eye out for Alicia and Clarice¡¯s factions. I don¡¯t need to remind you that they¡¯re still at large.¡± Irene nodded. ¡°Beth is especially dangerous.¡± Irene agreed. ¡°She has a plasma generator.¡± ¡°There is nobody more dangerous to a Terminatrix than another Terminatrix.¡± Jeanne agreed, switching to hive-slang for how the city referred to the Holy Knights of the Lunar Temple. ¡°That was true until the Cult of the Worm showed up.¡± Irene replied in dolorous tones. Jeanne handed Irene the dataslate back and left with a wave, followed closely on her heels by Evel¨ªna. Jeanne stepped into Abbess Abigail¡¯s office, waving her own dataslate. ¡°I don¡¯t think Irene should do a Hive Crawl alone.¡± She began simply enough, ¡°given our current situation.¡± Abigail, a scarred veteran recently pulled from retirement, grimaced at Jeanne, a mesh collar of metal and blinking electrodes wrapped around her throat. ¡°She won¡¯t.¡± Abagail grated from her artificial throat, a gift from a battle long forgotten. ¡°You¡¯re to tail her.¡± Jeanne frowned. ¡°Tail her? I don¡¯t understand.¡± Abigail spread her hands. ¡°I¡¯m expected to trust anyone?¡± She grated. ¡°I¡¯ve locked out the suit codes of those I know shouldn¡¯t be here, so at least they can¡¯t gain access to the Cathedral and its resources, but do I really think we¡¯re safe?¡± She asked drily. ¡°And me?¡± Jeanne asked. Abigail held her thumb and forefinger a short distance apart. ¡°This much.¡± ¡°Thanks. I think.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Your mission to Al-Cestus is, surprise, surprise, scheduled for tomorrow. But for today, you¡¯re to surveil Irene. I don¡¯t want to send you out into the Crud to Al-Cestus with a young Knight that I don¡¯t know, that I can¡¯t trust.¡± Abigail explained. Jeanne nodded. ¡°Keep a lookout for former Knight Beth.¡± Abigail urged. ¡°According to the records, she received a plasma generator and the codes for a plasma ordinance package from Cheryl herself just before everything went to shit.¡± Jeanne nodded. Abigail made a shooing gesture with her hands. ¡°Go on, get out of here.¡± she urged. Stolen story; please report. Jeanne nodded and moved towards Evelina, who opened up for her. ¡°Oh, Evel¨ªna: Nike is interested in- well, that thing you Smirtka do.¡± Jeanne gave Abigail a confused look, but climbed into her biomechanical powered armor. ¡°Welcome, Knight Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna murmured in Jeanne¡¯s ear. ¡°¡®That thing that Smirtka do¡¯?¡± Jeanne asked. Evel¨ªna laughed in Jeanne¡¯s ear. ¡°Nikke wants to try and make a Seed between us.¡± ¡°...huh.¡± Jeanne replied doubtfully. The battlesuit walked the two of them through the massive Cathedral, reliefs of former Knights and Paladins etched into the concrete walls. ¡°We¡¯re Plants, after all.¡± Evel¨ªna explained. ¡°We can reproduce, though it¡¯s not at all like what you humans do.¡± She paused. ¡°Speaking of which, when will you reproduce?¡± Jeanne sighed as she queued up Evel¨ªna¡¯s stealth package. ¡°I don¡¯t much like surveilling Irene.¡± Evel¨ªna murmured in Jeanne¡¯s ear as they anchored themselves to a hab-wall. ¡°She¡¯s loyal to you.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter to Abigail.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Besides, I was loyal to Cheryl until she revealed herself a traitor. Make sure Irene doesn¡¯t leave your scans.¡± Evel¨ªna hummed in Jeanne¡¯s ear as Irene appeared on her screen. There was some chatter between Hellena and Irene as they scanned the countless throngs of people that moved through the Hive City, though Hellena lacked most of the personality that Evel¨ªna displayed. ¡°Seems like Hellena is more... mechanical.¡± Jeanne muttered to herself as she queued up a nutrient drink. ¡°She has all the capabilities that I do, and yet she¡¯s so... limited.¡± Evel¨ªna agreed sulkily. ¡°She doesn¡¯t even seem to like music!¡± ¡°Is that why you¡¯re always picking on her?¡± Jeanne mused, scanning Irene¡¯s surroundings. Irene didn¡¯t have the comprehensive stealth package that Jeanne had, so she was sticking to the shadows. ¡°Our Personality Helix evolves alongside our users.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°Hellena should be so much more than what she is.¡± ¡°Let her do her thing.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Proximity alert.¡± Evel¨ªna chirped, pointing out an older man in simple clothes that carefully picked his way along the ledge nearby. If he kept moving along the ledge, he¡¯d run into Evel¨ªna and potentially fall to his death. ¡°She should be here.¡± He muttered, Evel¨ªna¡¯s mics picking up his confusion. Jeanne checked her stealth systems; there should be no way he¡¯d know she was here. ¡°Should we move?¡± Jeanne muttered, and then froze in panic as a Smirtka battlesuit revealed itself right next to her. ¡°Shit!¡± Jeanne managed to gasp. ¡°Markings indicate Smirtka Priscilla- pilot is Beth.¡± Evel¨ªna reported. ¡°Plasma-¡± Jeanne blurted, but Evel¨ªna cut her off. ¡°At this range, plasma would-¡± ¡°Shit!¡± Jeanne swore again. ¡°How did she-¡± ¡°Sorry, Jeanne. I was focused on Irene. I wasn¡¯t aware of her appearance.¡± Evel¨ªna bounced back at her. ¡°Strategy?¡± Jeanne begged. Evel¨ªna deployed a thirty-six inch blade from one of her hands. ¡°We are being locked on by Irene.¡± Evel¨ªna immediately called in a high panic. ¡°She shouldn¡¯t be able to see us!¡± Jeanne yelled. ¡°Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t know that!¡± Evel¨ªna shouted back. Outside, the man in plain clothes was talking to Beth. ¡°I couldn¡¯t get into the datavaults like you asked. They got the Cathedral locked down tighter¡¯n a Knight¡¯s thighs in nuclear winter.¡± He called, and cackled at his joke. Beth swatted him off the ledge with a bladed fist and he plummeted into darkness, his maniacal laugh cut short. Jeanne moved then, blade seeking the vulnerable join between armor plates. As her blade punched home, Irene¡¯s heavy penetrator round slammed into Beth¡¯s suit. ¡°Moderate damage; nonlethal.¡± Evel¨ªna reported. ¡°Plasma lance!¡± Jeanne shouted as Beth fired Priscilla¡¯s jets. ¡°At this range-¡± ¡°Let her get some distance!¡± Jeanne frantically shouted. Irene¡¯s followup shot slammed into Beth¡¯s suit, slamming Beth into Jeanne. ¡°Cogitator virus!¡± Jeanne shouted as she drove her blade into Beth¡¯s side again, probing for a weak point. ¡°Priscilla is not accepting network traffic.¡± Evel¨ªna complained. ¡°Use the emergency band!¡± Jeanne shouted as she stabbed the other battlesuit repeatedly. ¡°Cogitator virus upload in progress.¡± Evel¨ªna called as Irene¡¯s third shot slammed into the wall between Jeanne and Beth. ¡°Fucking die!¡± Jeanne screamed as she stabbed at Beth again. ¡°Moderate damage.¡± Evel¨ªna reported again. ¡°Priscilla is occupied with the cogitator virus.¡± ¡°Kill her, Evel¨ªna!¡± Jeanne shouted, her adrenaline high. Irene fired again, and the round smashed into the armor plates on Beth¡¯s battlesuit. ¡°Moderate damage.¡± Evel¨ªna reported again. ¡°It is possible that Beth may be suffering trauma.¡± Smirtka battlesuits were not designed for combat between each other. Jeanne¡¯s weapon package included small arms weapons for soft targets, as well as Custodian-class weaponry for armored targets. However, those weapons, like her plasma ordinance, were designed to be fired at range, something she didn¡¯t have with Beth. ¡°Transmitting telemetry and firing solution data to Hellena.¡± Evel¨ªna reported, even as Jeanne thrust with her knives again, seeking vulnerabilities in the armor plating. ¡°Incoming radio from Beth.¡± Evel¨ªna reported. ¡°Put her through.¡± Jeanne muttered grimly as she dug with her knives. ¡°Jeanne, right?¡± Beth came through on the speakers. ¡°You¡¯re... an idiot.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re a traitor.¡± Jeanne replied. Beth cursed as another round slammed into her battlesuit, courtesy of Irene. ¡°Severe damage to all systems.¡± Priscilla announced. ¡°Just let me go.¡± Beth urged. ¡°Oh, feel free to leave at any time.¡± Jeanne encouraged with a ragged laugh. ¡°I have a plasma lance charged and ready. You¡¯ll become a new sun for the people of Al-Omeg.¡± She punctuated this declaration with another punch of her bladed fist. ¡°You¡¯re a real bitch.¡± Beth croaked. ¡°Warning, life signs critical. Deploying adrenaline.¡± Priscilla¡¯s voice came across the comms. Irene¡¯s next shot caught Beth¡¯s battlesuit in the midsection, which wasn¡¯t nearly as armored as the chestplates. ¡°Former Knight Beth¡¯s life signs have disappeared. Smirtka Priscilla, you are required by the Crowley Protocol to return to the Cathedral.¡± Evel¨ªna and Hellena commanded in chorus. ¡°I thought you were supposed to be going to Al-Cestus?¡± Irene asked Jeanne, who was trying to catch her breath. Lunar Princess 08 Writing Prompt: ¡°The sky went dark¡± The air was filled with the low moan and creak of tortured metal as the heavy airlock door rose with the protesting groan of engines under heavy strain. The door opened slowly, letting in swirls of dust. ¡°The... sky, Sister.¡± Irene¡¯s amazed voice echoed across the comm as she strode out into the Waste. Holy Knight Jeanne felt the same sense of awestruck wonder herself as she looked up, expecting anything but what she saw. The skies above Al-Omeg were clear. The usual clouds of chemicals and dust were absent; the winds were shockingly and mercifully silent. The stars were glittering diamonds scattered across an ebon sky, strange ribbons of multicolored light hissing on the horizons. ¡°Rad levels are... tolerable. Atmo is... still toxic. Particulate count is negligible.¡± Evel¨ªna reported in Jeanne¡¯s ear. Some of the ancient spacecraft, long derelict, hung in orbit around the decaying planet, visible now that the storms had passed. ¡°How¡¯d this happen?¡± Jeanne mused as she strode outside of the airlock and into the wasteland. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen the stars outside from old texts.¡± Irene replied wonderingly. ¡°You¡¯d better record this; you might not ever see the sky again.¡± Jeanne muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t think anyone would believe you.¡± Irene took a few steps and twirled about in Hellena, her Smirtka battlesuit. ¡°This is amazing. Unprecedented.¡± ¡°Send a data package to Abigail and stay focused, Irene.¡± Jeanne chided her. ¡°We¡¯ve got a mission.¡± ¡°A night like this... I feel somewhat disappointed that we have to spend it working.¡± Irene murmured. ¡°Coordinates received.¡± Evel¨ªna suddenly murmured in Jeanne¡¯s ear. ¡°Relaying to Hellena.¡± ¡°Huh?! Coordinates? What?¡± Jeanne replied, baffled as the jetpacks came online. ¡°What are you doing?!¡± She shouted, struggling with controls that no longer responded to her. Evel¨ªna¡¯s jetpacks hummed with barely restrained power as Jeanne struggled to move, to act, to do something, anything. Irene¡¯s startled voice came over the vox as she too struggled with her suit behaving erratically. With a gut-wrenching lurch, Jeanne was catapulted through the air, jets sizzling, unable to control Evel¨ªna. One of the secondary screens showed that Irene was hot on her tail, though from the vox, she was just as unwilling as Jeanne. ¡°I¡¯m gonna shut you down, Evel¨ªna.¡± Jeanne warned through clenched teeth, toggling for the manual control. ¡°I can¡¯t let you do that, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna replied, and all of Jeanne¡¯s indicators went red. It didn¡¯t cross Jeanne¡¯s mind to force a manual eject; at this altitude she¡¯d be paste when she hit the ground. ¡°I swear to Luna I will have you decommissioned and abandoned in the Boneyard-¡± Jeanne hissed through clenched teeth as her battlesuit continued to push her higher, straining against earth¡¯s gravity. Suddenly the sky went dark, the stars blotted out by some supermassive thing that shed no light. ¡°Sensors!¡± Jeanne shouted, not expecting Evel¨ªna to respond. However, the sensors lit up and Jeanne was treated to the sight of something she hadn¡¯t seen in a very long time: the triangular supermassive spacecraft she¡¯d seen so long ago, something that belonged to those that had somehow commanded Evel¨ªna to stop devouring Jeanne. A rectangular slice of light appeared in the underbelly of that titanic ship; some sort of hatch or bay was opening up, and according to the telemetry data, Evel¨ªna and Hellena were destined to head right inside. ¡°Jeanne! Jeanne!¡± Irene called over the vox. ¡°I have no idea what¡¯s going on, but it¡¯s best to keep your calm, Irene!¡± Jeanne called back. ¡°We¡¯ll figure out what¡¯s going on soon, I swear it!¡± ¡°Critical power failure in Battlesuit Hellena.¡± Evel¨ªna announced, and then suddenly reached out long glistening black tendrils to the other Smirtka. ¡°Smirtka Hellena, I require your assistance.¡± Hellena copied Evel¨ªna¡¯s gesture, extruding its own tendrils to catch Evel¨ªna¡¯s. The two intertwined, and suddenly Jeanne was yanked back as her weight multiplied exponentially. ¡°Adjusting thruster output.¡± Evel¨ªna barked, and Jeanne could feel Evel¨ªna¡¯s jets roar even harder, though she was certain it wasn¡¯t enough. ¡°We can¡¯t keep this altitude, Evel¨ªna.¡± Jeanne managed to grit out. ¡°And we can¡¯t haul Irene along with us.¡± ¡°Negotiation in progress, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna replied in a much less mechanical tone. ¡°Electromagnetic anchors have us secured.¡± Suddenly Evel¨ªna¡¯s jetpacks cut out and Jeanne screamed. A fall from this height, regardless if she was protected by a fully armored and fully functional battlesuit would kill her. ¡°Relax, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna encouraged. ¡°We¡¯re not falling.¡± Jeanne eyed the altimeter and goggled; not only were they not falling, they were rising slowly, gently towards that titanic hatch that looked to be big enough to swallow the entire Cathedral of the Moon. ¡°Comms?¡± Jeanne breathed. ¡°Vox open.¡± Evel¨ªna replied, humming one of the Cathedral¡¯s hymns in Jeanne¡¯s ear. ¡°Irene? You still with us?¡± ¡°Please tell me we¡¯re not going to fall.¡± Irene¡¯s response babbled across the vox. ¡°I haven¡¯t gotten married yet, I haven¡¯t earned the right to have a house, I didn¡¯t say goodbye to my parents-¡± ¡°It seems... that we¡¯re not falling.¡± Jeanne cut her fellow Knight short. ¡°Check Hellena¡¯s systems.¡± ¡°Generator and jetpacks are in an auto-repair cycle.¡± Irene reported back. ¡°If I fall, that¡¯s it.¡± ¡°Evel¨ªna?¡± Jeanne demanded. ¡°System status?¡± ¡°Generators are functioning normally. Jetpacks are eighty percent functional. Repair cycle engaged. ETA is twenty hours until functionality is fully restored.¡± ¡°Fuck.¡± Jeanne complained as they rose, mysteriously, into the massive bay that had opened up for them. ¡°Deploy ordinance. I authorize release of plasma weaponry.¡± Jeanne immediately barked. ¡°Irene, weapons hot. I don¡¯t know who decided to co-opt our battlesuits, but they won¡¯t find us easy meat.¡± ¡°Jeanne, if I¡¯m reading this right, this whole thing is huge!¡± Irene replied, her voice aghast and horrified. ¡°It¡¯s at least as big as a Hive.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Don¡¯t shoot unless we have to.¡± The interior of the bay they¡¯d been dragged into was a uniform metallic gray; boxlike in appearance. As they rose up into the bay, the massive doors that had opened up to accommodate them closed underneath them. ¡°I don¡¯t think-¡± Irene began, but then the mysterious force that pulled them in released, and both of the battlesuits dropped and clattered to the deck. ¡°Get up, get up!¡± Jeanne struggled to free Evel¨ªna from Hellena¡¯s tangled embrace as an intense blast of air washed over them. Her ears popped as the room pressurized and Jeanne squeezed her eyes shut in pain. ¡°Air is clean and breathable. Background rads. No toxins detected, no sign of biological contaminants.¡± Evel¨ªna reported. ¡°This air is the cleanest yet. Even the Cathedral doesn¡¯t have air this good.¡± Jeanne dragged herself away from Hellena. ¡°Systems?¡± Jeanne muttered as she tried to stand upright. For some reason her sense of ¡°upright¡± had disappeared, and she reeled about drunkenly. ¡°Evel¨ªna, do something about this.¡± Jeanne complained. ¡°You want me to stand upright for you?¡± Evel¨ªna¡¯s voice held tones of shocked wonder and humor. ¡°Yeah. If you would. Please.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to be sick.¡± Evel¨ªna fixed Jeanne¡¯s stance and deployed her ordinance. ¡°By Luna.¡± Jeanne grimaced. ¡°There is something seriously wrong.¡± She complained. ¡°What¡¯s Irene¡¯s status?¡± ¡°Knight Irene is unconscious.¡± Hellena¡¯s voice replied clinically across the vox. Jeanne looked around the metallic room, head swimming. ¡°What is wrong with me?¡± She complained. ¡°Cogitation in progress.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°Room analysis is complete; a passage is directly opposite us.¡± ¡°Turn us around, then.¡± Jeanne complained irritably, and then drifted off. ¡°Jeanne? Jeanne?¡± Evel¨ªna¡¯s voice dragged Jeanne into a sludgy semi consciousness. ¡°Deploying adrenaline-¡± ¡°No... no need.¡± Jeanne complained, forestalling the Smirtka. ¡°What is it?¡± She asked. Her screens clicked on, and standing in front of her was a solidly built man with a thick mustache and a uniform that Jeanne didn¡¯t recognize, though it was obvious that it carried the hallmarks of some sort of military uniform. ¡°I¡¯m Commander David Alvis of the Imperator.¡± The man introduced himself. ¡°Close quarters weapons.¡± Jeanne ordered, and triggered her external vox even as Evel¨ªna deployed her knives. ¡°I¡¯m Holy Knight Jeanne, Block Seven, of Hive City al-Omeg.¡± Jeanne growled back. ¡°I don¡¯t know how you commandeered our battlesuits, but interfering with a Holy Knight carries a penalty of death.¡± He plucked at his collar. ¡°Send the signal.¡± He muttered, and suddenly Jeanne was forcefully ejected from Evel¨ªna¡¯s embrace and onto the metallic deck. Evel¨ªna slumped to the deck with a wail. Jeanne hit the deck on her face, and struggled to gain her footing. ¡°Holy Knight Jeanne, we need to talk with you and your compatriot. It seems that in order to talk, we¡¯re going to need to separate you from your...¡± He paused, ¡°Plants.¡± As she forced herself upright, he once again tugged at his collar, likely a comm of some kind. ¡°Take them to the medical bay. We have no idea what filth they¡¯re carrying. Full quarantine. Get the two of them cleaned up.¡± He walked away, boots clicking hollowly on the metallic plates of the deck. Jeanne took a wobbly step after him, her chest aching and burning with each step. ¡°I won¡¯t let you-¡± She growled through clenched teeth. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°We¡¯re not your enemy.¡± He called over his shoulder, not deigning to turn around. ¡°We need your help, after all.¡± Jeanne crashed to her knees again, her vision swimming. ¡°...Evel¨ªna...¡± She whispered as darkness claimed her. She was conscious, but she couldn¡¯t move. She couldn¡¯t see, but she could hear; there was some tone that resonated with her heartbeat. ¡°So, how are they?¡± the voice of that man, that... commander. ¡°Remarkably healthy, considering the environment.¡± a different voice, strong, feminine. ¡°Biohazard?¡± He asked. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve been inoculated against all of the things they¡¯re carrying, and she¡¯s been inoculated against all of the things we¡¯re carrying, so... we¡¯re fine.¡± ¡°Their problems breathing?¡± the commander asked. The woman laughed. ¡°They¡¯re not used to the air we breathe.¡± ¡°Too clean?¡± He asked, notes of confusion in his voice. ¡°Nope.¡± the woman¡¯s voice replied with notes of amusement. ¡°Too rich. The air on the surface- the atmosphere there is... a lot less than it should be. We pressurized the cargo hold and bam, hyperoxia.¡± ¡°Will it be a problem?¡± His voice was concerned. ¡°They¡¯re adapting. Shouldn¡¯t be a problem.¡± The woman replied. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve got a couple of hours. Get them up, get them fed, and... keep them away from anything they can use as a weapon. They¡¯re Landers, after all.¡± ¡°Aye-aye~¡± She lilted. Jeanne tried to move and discovered she couldn¡¯t. She struggled to move her arms, curl her fingers, so something. Her hands felt numb and swollen and difficult to move, but she tried anyway. She opened her eyes and came face to face with the woman that owned the voice she¡¯d overheard. She was somewhat tall, with reddish-brown hair that framed her face. ¡°You¡¯re a fighter.¡± The woman acknowledged. ¡°You just don¡¯t want to stay asleep, do you?¡± Jeanne struggled to sit upright, and discovered she was naked. She grimaced irritably and rolled off the table and once again landed on her face. ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere like that.¡± The woman- the doctor? observed clinically. ¡°Let¡¯s get you back into bed.¡± ¡°...Evel¨ªna...¡± Jeanne growled through clenched teeth. ¡°Your fellow... pilot?¡± the woman asked, as she and another woman hauled Jeanne to her feet and put her back onto the bed. The woman pointed across the room. ¡°See? She¡¯s sleeping. Like you should be. You took in way too much oxygen all at once.¡± Jeanne panted from her exertion and shook her head. ¡°No. My Smirtka.¡± The woman stared at her with a baffled expression. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is.¡± Jeanne rolled her eyes. ¡°My battlesuit!¡± She tried to shout, but it came out as a grating croak. The doctor pressed her lips together. ¡°That... is something you will have to go without, for the time being.¡± Jeanne forced herself to look at the woman, even as her head started to swim again. ¡°Why did you kidnap us?¡± The doctor shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m a doctor. I¡¯m not in charge of that. You¡¯ll find out from the commander. Do you think you can eat?¡± Jeanne stared at her with a baffled, contemptuous look. ¡°Do you really think I care about food at a time like this?¡± She¡¯d been testing her legs and was reasonably certain that they¡¯d support her weight if she lunged at the woman. ¡°Well, if I were in your shoes, I¡¯d think my first concern would be clothes.¡± The doctor remarked. ¡°I can connect with Evel¨ªna without clothes.¡± Jeanne remarked sardonically. ¡°Like I said, that¡¯s not something that¡¯s going to happen.¡± The woman replied. ¡°Your Plant... thing has been put to sleep for the time being. Don¡¯t want you discharging plasma weaponry in space.¡± ¡°What¡¯s space?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°We¡¯re in space.¡± The doctor replied, moving her hands around to indicate everything around her. ¡°It¡¯s a ship?¡± Jeanne frowned. The doctor sighed and adopted a condescending look. ¡°No, we¡¯re in a ship. The ship is in space. You shoot a plasma weapon in the ship, the ship will break, and you¡¯ll get sucked out into space. You¡¯ll die in space... along with the rest of us.¡± Jeanne scrubbed her face with the heel of her hand. ¡°I need to get out of here.¡± She muttered. ¡°Irene.¡± She looked across the room at her fellow Knight, laying on one of the pale white diagnostic beds. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with her?¡± ¡°Nothing, now. She¡¯s resting.¡± the doctor replied. ¡°Just a heads up, but if you try to leave or assault myself or my staff, some burly men will come in and make sure you regret it.¡± Jeanne grinned. ¡°I can deal with whatever you throw at me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not embarrassed about not having clothes?¡± The doctor asked. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Killing comes first. Clothes can come later.¡± Jeanne replied, and launched herself at the doctor, hands outstretched. Jeanne opened her eyes and discovered she¡¯d been put into some sort of restraining harness, a thing of long sleeves that wrapped her own arms around her, preventing her from moving. A mask that hissed faintly hung from her face. The man that introduced himself earlier sat across a large table from her. Jeanne looked around, and discovered Irene bound up and seated next to her. The room had a massive window that looked out into inky darkness, some darkness that seemed to devour all like except for the hard, implacable shine of what looked to be stars. ¡°So... Knight Jeanne. Knight Irene.¡± He greeted. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t struggled and resisted so much, we might have had this conversation over dinner...¡± He mused when he noticed that they were alert. ¡°The masks provide the sort of air you¡¯re used to breathing. The coats keep you from doing anything...¡± He rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve got a lot of questions for you- like why on Earth you let your Plants get so smart- but instead I¡¯ll tell you why you were brought here and what we expect you to do.¡± Irene replied with a lurid stream of profanity; she¡¯d been born and raised in the slums before she¡¯d been harvested to work in the Cathedral. He rolled his eyes at her, and deciding she was a lost cause, shifted his attentions to Jeanne. ¡°There¡¯s a derelict that looks ready to fall planetside.¡± He offered. ¡°Normally we don¡¯t care about such things, except that its reactor is still hot, even after all these centuries. A hot reactor means a nuclear event. A nuclear event means more radiation in the atmosphere, something we don¡¯t want. You following me so far?¡± Jeanne said nothing, so he sighed. ¡°Those Plants you use-¡± He picked up a sheet of something that looked like plastic- ¡°Have a strange resilience to radiation. We¡¯d like you to board the derelict and eject the core for us.¡± He spread his hands. ¡°Simple.¡± Jeanne thought for a moment. ¡°You can¡¯t do it on your own?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Our equipment is too bulky. We¡¯d likely annihilate ourselves, along with our ship. Your Plant... suits...¡± He trailed off at that, and consulted the flimsy plastic again, ¡°are a lot more nimble, and should have no problems.¡± ¡°So destroy it.¡± She replied. ¡°A ship this big should have no problems doing that.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Can¡¯t do that, either. That derelict is a treasure trove of lost technologies. Tools and parts we need.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t give up?¡± She asked. He frowned at that. ¡°You might not be aware of this, but we¡¯ve been trying to put your world back together for the past five centuries. You think we¡¯re willing to accept such a setback?¡± Jeanne glanced at Irene, who gave her a baffled look in return. ¡°Let me talk to Evel¨ªna.¡± Jeanne decided. ¡°Then we¡¯ll talk.¡± ¡°That¡¯s your Plant, right?¡± He asked. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t do that. We¡¯re keeping it in a dormant state. It seems... determined... to rampage.¡± He set his hands on the table and gave her a baffled, bewildered look. ¡°Why would you give a Plant the ability to think for itself?¡± Jeanne grinned. ¡°You want to keep her from rampaging, right?¡± She asked. ¡°Let me talk to her.¡± ¡°That thing has been trying to infect our computers with all sorts of malicious protocols. You really think I¡¯ll allow it-¡± ¡°I am the only one she listens to. She will stop if I tell her to.¡± Jeanne replied, and then added, ¡°And I¡¯d like some food, too.¡± A woman behind Jeanne laughed; she recognized it at the voice of the doctor she¡¯d tried to strangle earlier. ¡°Every moment Evel¨ªna is apart from me, she recognizes it as a crisis event. Right now she is no doubt trying to figure out new and exciting ways to break herself free from your control. If she figures out how to do that, she will unleash her full payload of plasma ordinance to get to me.¡± Jeanne explained, not unkindly. She looked over at Irene. ¡°I have no idea if Irene¡¯s Hellena feels the same- Evel¨ªna is a little... eccentric- but the bond between a Holy Knight and a Smirtka is something that should not be taken lightly.¡± The commander pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. ¡°And the job?¡± ¡°Give the data and objectives to Evel¨ªna. I¡¯m a Knight- all I know how to do is protect my city. Evel¨ªna will understand what to do better than me.¡± Irene spoke up, then. ¡°Why are we doing this? Why did you agree to do this? Who are these people? We don¡¯t owe them anything.¡± Jeanne hesitated. She wasn¡¯t sure how to explain that these people seemed to work for the Lunar Princess in a way that wouldn¡¯t cause her young protege to flip out. Irene was young and impressionable, and her faith in the Lunar Princess was raw and bordered on the side of zealotry, as all the young Knights and Neophytes did. ¡°I owe them, Irene.¡± Jeanne replied, turning to face her fellow Knight. ¡°They were able to stop Evel¨ªna from eating me alive. Fair¡¯s fair; I think I owe them one.¡± Irene eyed the commander, the guards, and shifted in her restraints. ¡°I don¡¯t trust them.¡± She stated flatly. ¡°They co-opted our Smirtka, dragged us to... wherever this is, and then force a mission on us for their convenience?¡± She shook her head. Jeanne nodded. ¡°Fair.¡± She agreed, and turned back to the commander. ¡°Incentive?¡± She asked. ¡°From where I sit, all of this just benefits you.¡± ¡°So now you¡¯re a mercenary?¡± He groaned, and rubbed his eyes again. ¡°What is it that you want?¡± He asked. Jeanne smiled and opened her mouth. ¡°Are you sure this is a good idea, Sister?¡± Irene asked dubiously as they marched on unsteady legs towards the docking bay, where their battlesuits were kept. ¡°I think it¡¯s the best choice for us right now.¡± Jeanne replied, already looking forward to reuniting with Evel¨ªna. ¡°Where you lead I will follow as always, Sister.¡± Irene replied doubtfully. Jeanne nodded and reached over and patted Irene¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You have no idea how much that means to me, Irene. I need you to watch my back.¡± Irene flashed her a rare smile as the door opened to the cargo hold. The two security guards with them gestured imperiously to the two Knights. The security guards were no different than the enforcer thugs that Jeanne dealt with from time to time in her Hive Crawls. Simple trash pumped up with a sense of false authority. She could disembowel them both in the time it took for them to draw their stun batons... if she weren¡¯t so debilitated by the cumbersome life support equipment she was wearing. There were a number of men and women with long white coats standing around the disabled battlesuits. One of them was waving some sort of handheld device over it and yelling out a string of numbers. ¡°Wake her up.¡± Jeanne demanded, and they turned to stare at her. ¡°You¡¯re the pilot of this Plant, right?¡± a woman with dirty blonde hair and a squarish face asked curiously. ¡°Why did you let it get so smart?¡± ¡°Evel¨ªna manages all the systems installed in the battlesuit and provides combat support.¡± Jeanne replied simply. ¡°Yes, but it sings.¡± one of the men spoke up. ¡°Plants shouldn¡¯t be capable of doing that.¡± Jeanne traded looks with Irene and shrugged. ¡°I taught her how.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Now wake her up. I¡¯ve got shit to do.¡± The people in white coats looked to the security guards for permission, who nodded. Jeanne seethed at the complete ignorance of her own authority, but knew that whatever power she herself had, it was irrelevant in their own chain of command. Evel¨ªna awoke, the Smirtka battlesuit coming online with a flare of silvery light in the deaths¡¯ head helmet, long tendrils extruding from the battlesuit, long blades appearing from her fists, long plasma lances assembling with frightening speed from her shoulder mounts. ¡°Evel¨ªna, settle down.¡± She immediately ordered. ¡°We¡¯re not at war with them right now.¡± Evel¨ªna froze and retracted her tendrils. ¡°According to the Sacellum Protocol, this place is designated as hostile territory.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°Code 17886.¡± Jeanne replied smoothly, indicating that she was not under duress or a hostage. ¡°As you command, Holy Knight Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°Evel¨ªna, you¡¯re going to be receiving mission data about traveling to a derelict ship and ejecting a ... ¡®reactor core¡¯.¡± Jeanne instructed. ¡°Look it over, will you?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve already received it.¡± Evel¨ªna replied. ¡°It¡¯s straightforward.¡± Space was cold, and maneuvering in zero gravity was beyond troublesome. Evel¨ªna kept muttering about compensation even as they drifted through a massive debris field that looked to be the graveyard of countless spaceships of strange design. ¡°I¡¯ve seen parts like this.¡± Evel¨ªna muttered, bringing up a picture of one of the pieces of strange metal. ¡°It was significantly more damaged, however.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Jeanne muttered, eyeing Irene¡¯s signal. ¡°Irene, you doing okay?¡± She asked across the vox. ¡°It feels weird.¡± was her immediate reply. ¡°And I don¡¯t like the limited amount of air.¡± Jeanne nodded. ¡°There¡¯s a guide laser we¡¯re supposed to follow to get to the derelict; let¡¯s get this done.¡± She avoided looking at the planet that seemingly lay just beneath her feet, a thing of browns and grays, with splotches and blue and even white, here and there. Somewhere down there was the hive city of Al-Omeg, her home. It was a long, long, long way down, however. The fall would incinerate her. The derelict itself was a titanic thing that defied description, defied size itself. Gunports bigger than the airlock doors of Al-Omeg bristled in every direction. Windows as tall and as wide as the Lunar Cathedral. ¡°We have to go... inside there?¡± Irene whispered across the vox. Evel¨ªna began projecting a targeted route that would lead them inside the massive thing, lead them towards what the Lunarians believed was the reactor core, and a side screen displayed the necessary ejection procedure. ¡°We have to go... in there.¡± Jeanne replied, and touched Evel¨ªna¡¯s controls. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± The Witch of the North ¡°Her smile was selfish, yet not malicious; as if she never meant the world any harm, but desired everything it had to give.¡± Aurian¡¯s exhaustion finally caught up to her; she hit the muddy bank of the river on her knees and she nearly fell on the side, into the water. Despite the searing summer heat, the waters of the sluggish river brought no relief, and the air was filled with the whine of mosquitos. Her leather armor was tight and uncomfortable, her braid of fiery red hair dragged in the mud. As a Witch of Earth and Fire, she could do nothing for the heat, and being in a foreign land away from her home, her powers were diminished, besides. Even if her powers were at their lowest, she¡¯d spent some time training in the art of the sword some centuries back, but the blade on her hip seemed to weigh immeasurably heavy, dragging her down. The long trip from her homelands had sapped her powers, her lack of food had sapped her strength, and foolishly, stupidly, it seemed as if she was going to meet her end, not in some climactic battle or fearsome magical confrontation, or even at the end of her unnaturally long life, safely ensconced in her bed... no, no, it seemed that her fated death would be one of exhaustion and dehydration at the edge of a smelly river in a strange land. She let out a long and weary sigh, and let herself fall on her side. The land she was from, the land of the North, they at least had made peace with Witches. A Witch was something to be feared, to be sure, but a Witch could be negotiated with, reasoned with, bargained with. In these lands, the Southern lands, a Witch was something that needed to be killed on sight, a horror from foreign lands. As she lay in the mud, she closed her eyes and tried to reach for her powers, reach into the darkness of her soul for that flickering light. Earth was a fickle element to work with if untrained, however she had lived for nearly eight hundred years, and the mysteries of Earth were known to her. Beneath her, the elements that lay sleeping in the mud were cajoled and encouraged to attract together, some elements flaking away, some coming together in strange, intricate dances that she herself hadn¡¯t fully deciphered. It was slow, it was mentally taxing, it was taxing on her powers, but she could synthesize mud into gold, dirt into crystal. Crystal and gold were what she sought. In a land that mercilessly killed Witches on sight, magical power was a liability to a Witch, an existence that instinctively used magic as easily as breathing, as reflexively and unthinkingly as blinking. As the fist-sized ruby coalesced, edged in filigrees of gold, she funneled her powers into it, threads of gold curling into protective spellforms. They crystal would store her powers away, the gold would keep them from escaping. Now that her powers were drawn out of her and safely contained in a gem, she was simply another girl, albeit with a rather expensive and richly appointed jewel that she tucked away into her belt pouch. She dragged her sword from its sheath, and, using it as a crutch, struggled to her feet. She had to keep going. She had to survive. There were things that needed doing. She forced herself to her feet, and once more wished she had been born with the mysteries and understandings of Air or Water. Air could cool her, Water could give her a clean source of water, instead of this disgusting, brackish river water that stank. She sheathed her sword awkwardly, and struggled out of the mud. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. As she pushed through the river weeds, she spotted a small embankment, a slightly higher point where she could climb up. It was a risky venture; while she would be able to see everything around her better, it would also paint a target on her. The Southerners did not like intruders from the North. She made the choice to climb, and as she did, a massive stone building appeared, surrounded by workers dressed in chains. Some chipped away at stone slabs, others moved logs to where other slabs awaited- as Aurian took in the sight, it became obvious they were constructing something massive, a temple or palace, perhaps. She let out a small sigh. If she stood up here, she would be instantly noticed. The worksite was patrolled by guards, too- men with strangely curved swords and headdresses. If only it were nighttime, she could flit amongst the camps, undetected and unseen, taking food, water, wine, even fresh clothing as she liked, but... it wasn¡¯t even noon, the sun was hot, heavy, and oppressive on her neck and back. Was there a way she could somehow sneak around the worksite, even in her diminished condition? Was there a well, where she could drink to her heart¡¯s content? A... cafeteria, a place where food was stored and served? Did they even call it a cafeteria in these lands? She crawled through the grass carefully, quietly, dragging her thick braid behind her. Realistically, pragmatically, she knew she should have cut the thing off, cut her hair short, but the pride of a Witch was in their hair, something they grew freely and without restraint throughout their long lives. Mortal myths told that a Witch was made Mortal by cutting their hair, but all it did was make for an angry Witch. A terrifying, furiously angry Witch. Instead, she¡¯d braided it, and looped it around herself so that it wasn¡¯t in the way, but now the stupid thing was dirty, filthy, and caked in mud. She took her time in crawling in the grasses. She made no effort to hurry. She didn¡¯t want to be detected, because she was convinced that the very first thing that they would do would be to slay her on the spot. She didn¡¯t at all look like a Southerner, with their suntanned skins and their dark hair. Her own skin was fair and pale, her eyes were green, and her hair- well, when it wasn¡¯t caked in river mud and filth, was a brilliant and fiery red. Too different. They¡¯d slay her on the spot. And she was tired. So, so tired. She fumbled the stone from her pouch. It had been a good idea, in theory. In reality, she needed her powers, and the sensation of being without them, even for such a short period of time, filled her with a staggering sense of loss. She crushed the gem, and relished the feeling of the powers of fire and earth flow into her. Using the powers of Earth, she allowed the ground to swallow her up, carefully reserving places for breathing holes. She closed her eyes, reminded herself to wake up in several hours, set protective and preservative wards about her body, and then drifted off to sleep. When she awoke and emerged from the earth, the sky was purpling into night, and the camps were filled with flickering torches and raucous noises of slaves and slavemasters, whores and children. Aurian slipped through the camps, using a combination of sneaking and spells of confusion to befuddle anyone that came near. She found a woman alone, and scrambled her wits with a buffet of confusion magics. She demanded food and drink, and knowledge of a place where she might wash herself of the dirt and mud she¡¯d accumulated. The woman immediately recommended the river for bathing. Dumb bitch. The food was good, if strange. The wine was delicious, if coarse and newly made, unlike her own century-aged vintages. A large jar of fresh water was provided to her, and with the woman¡¯s help, her magnificent hair was returned to its burning luster. She bore the foreigners no ill will. In fact, she¡¯d been chased from her homelands in the North- she was technically a vagabond in these strange lands. But, she was a Witch. A Witch was greedy. A Witch was selfish. A Witch was terrifying. Her smile was selfish, yet not malicious; as if she never meant the world any harm, but desired everything it had to give. Lunar Princess 09 Writing Prompt: ¡°The shrieks were ceaseless and unending¡± Abbess Abigail eyed Knight Irene across the desk. ¡°Knight Jeanne trusts you, but I don¡¯t. You¡¯re young, and young Knights often make mistakes. I don¡¯t like Knights that make mistakes.¡± she rasped from her mechanical throat. Abigail¡¯s hand reached up and touched the device that allowed her to speak. ¡°Like I did.¡± ¡°Knight Jeanne has been training me well.¡± Irene replied. ¡°I do my best to avoid mistakes.¡± She stopped and lowered her eyes to the Abbess¡¯ desktop for a long moment. ¡°Though I think some mistakes are unavoidable.¡± Abigail sighed and moved her papers to the side and set her elbows on the polished stone desk and folded her hands under her nose. ¡°This last mission proved you are not yet ready for plasma ordinance. People were hurt, and expensive machinery was destroyed. Jeanne attempted to assume responsibility for the mission, but you refused. Why?¡± Irene shook her head. ¡°My mistakes are my own. It¡¯s true that Knight Jeanne puts a tremendous amount of faith in me as her subordinate, but I¡¯m not doing anything on my own. It¡¯s always-¡± Abagail said nothing while Irene struggled with trying to find the right words. Finally, Irene choked them out. ¡°I want a solo accomplishment. Something I¡¯ve done by myself.¡± Abigail nodded at that. ¡°A reasonable request.¡± She turned to one of her screens. ¡°One of the gene-gineer farms has gone dark.¡± She tapped at a lit square on her screen and a three-dimensional holo-projection of the known sections of the Hive appeared. At the very base were heat sinks that sank deep into the ground, leeching heat from the magma that flowed just beneath. That heat was drawn up into power generators that branched out to the rest of the Hive, providing power to habitation blocks, manufactories, the agri-plants, up and up and up and up at the top was the Cathedral of the Lunar Princess and the Noble Spires. Abigail spun the Spire with a flick of her finger and zoomed in on one section which displayed as an empty section. ¡°A year ago it was a gene vat that spawned the pig and cow meat that¡¯s eaten in the Spires.¡± ¡°A year ago?¡± Irene asked, confused. ¡°Things are fuzzy. Power utilization spiked, and then it went off-grid. No one¡¯s ever checked up on it. There¡¯s no security footage worth mentioning, and the nobility simply don¡¯t care where their meat comes from, just as long as it arrives on time. There are plenty of gene-gineer plants, after all.¡± Abigail waved her hand, dismissing the holo. ¡°It¡¯s negligence like that that will bring this Hive to its knees, mark my words.¡± She tapped her finger on the desk. ¡°You want a solo job? Go check it out. See what you can do about getting the power back on.¡± She set a data chip on the desk. ¡°This is a dataset for a short-range ordinance package. It¡¯s stupid that you Terminatrixes are reduced to using wrist blades for close-quarters combat. I¡¯m also placing an administrative lock on your plasma ordinance until you get more field experience.¡± She paused for a moment. ¡°The lock will be released if you encounter any of the rogue Knights, but only then. I can¡¯t leave you stripped naked in a fight where they have plasma and you don¡¯t.¡± Irene nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t disappoint, Knight Irene.¡± Irene saluted and left, trotting lightly through the massive edifice of the Cathedral. Jeanne was the type of Knight that would ride her Smirtka through the Cathedral, but Irene left Hellena in the War Hangar. When she reached the hangar, she shucked her robes and slipped into the contact suit that was necessary for Hellena to interface with her. Specialized contacts in the lithe, skin-tight suit pressed icy-cold against her skin, ready to transmit neural input to Hellena. She frowned up at Hellena as she approached. Jeanne¡¯s Smirtka Evel¨ªna seemed to have a personality all of her own. Hellena simply responded to instruction and provided support, no different than any of the other battlesuits. However, all Smirtka had a Personality Helix, so shouldn¡¯t Hellena have displayed some sort of behavior- She shook her head. Evel¨ªna was not a model for Smirtka personality. She was ...¡±quirky¡±, ¡°eccentric¡±, and every behavior she manifested in the presence of others was simply... Irene shook her head. ¡°Open up, Hellena, and prepare to receive a new dataset.¡± Irene called. Hellena opened up, and a tendril reached out towards Irene, who put the chip on the tendril, which retracted quickly. Irene climbed into the Smirtka, and Irene took a moment to review the systems as they came online, exactly the same as she had done a thousand times over when she was a neophyte in a training suit. ¡°All systems online. Dataset assimilation complete. New weapons available.¡± Part of the Smirtka weapons availability depended on actual hardware installed in the metal, mechanical portion of the suit, the other part relied on the nearly incomprehensible abilities of the Seed, which could create things as long as it was given the programming that explained how the things were built. ¡°Mission chip, mission chip-¡± Irene mused and then froze. She¡¯d left the chip with the mission parameters in her robe. ¡°Hellena, do you mind?¡± She asked, not expecting an answer, but a long tendril slithered out, picked up her robe, rummaged through it, and drew back. The holo that the Abbess had used to point out the missing gene-gineer facility appeared on one of her sub screens. ¡°Plot us a course and let¡¯s head out.¡± Irene ordered, and Hellena complied, plotting the best possible course that would take them through the supermassive structure of the Hive, while Irene strode to the edge of the flight deck and triggered the jump jets to launch herself off. The Hive was layered with complex and dense networks of cabling, ductwork, pipes, and miles and miles of wiring, each with localized network hubs filled with all sorts of comm chatter that Irene used as beacons to orient herself as she traversed the myriad districts, heading to her destination. ¡°You don¡¯t sing much, do you?¡± Irene muttered, and Hellena responded by linking up with the Hive¡¯s main radio beacon, a system that broadcast Lunar hymns across the hive and even out across the Waste, a beacon that people could use to guide themselves to Al-Omeg. There were hundreds, if not thousands of different radio stations that broadcast all manner of music, news reports, statistics and entertainment programming throughout the Hive, but the one station that was universally accessible from any point in the Hive City was the primary radio beacon. Irene once again found herself comparing herself with her mentor, and Hellena with Evel¨ªna. Jeanne was tall and strong and fierce, where Irene was slim and small and clumsy. Evel¨ªna was bubbly, effervescent and ... well, eccentric, where Hellena didn¡¯t seem to demonstrate any sort of personality at all. Irene contemplated these things as she avoided the hab-blocks and the webwork of civilian streets, since the sight of a so-called ¡®Terminatrix¡¯ would send them scattering in a hysteric panic. She triggered Hellena¡¯s stealth package and rested on a civilian launching platform while she considered her route into the bowels of the Hive City. The city was massive, housing millions of people, and under the streets of the cities and factories was a strange wasteland of forgotten places, places that hadn¡¯t seen the light of human civilization since the Plant that grew the Hive created them. There were whole areas that were unknown, unmapped, and effectively lost. Shortly after her experience with Jeanne in Low Earth Orbit, they had spent some time trying to figure out why an entire city block had simply disappeared. Ultimately it had been discovered that a massive elevator with its workings buried underground had simply decided, for some reason beyond the understanding of those that investigated, to lower the city block down a thousand feet into the shadowy depths of the Hive. ¡°According to this map, there¡¯s a length of tunnel here that should take us to just near the gene-gineer plant.¡± She muttered to herself. There was no explanation for the tunnel¡¯s presence or of its function, however. She tapped the map. ¡°There.¡± She triggered her jets and leapt off the launch pad, already thinking ahead to her next jump, which would take her down to a series of civilian transit tunnels, where she should be able to access that mysterious tunnel. The tunnel was massive and dimly lit by reddish bulbs coated in dust. The floor was railed; apparently it had been at some point a train tunnel. ¡°Full sensors. Defensive weaponry.¡± She called to Hellena, who obliged, showing the Custodian-class anti-personnel weaponry being deployed. As the sensor package came online, Irene was surprised to see camps of people living in the tunnel. Hunched around campfires, living in crudely-assembled shacks and tents. ¡°This part of the Hive was abandoned, right?¡± Irene asked, not expecting an answer. ¡°This part of the Hive should be restricted to authorized personnel. Identifying targets.¡± A series of crosshairs flew across the screen, targeting the indigent population. ¡°No!¡± Irene shouted. ¡°They¡¯re civilians!¡± ¡°This is a clear violation of the anti-trespassing ordinance.¡± Hellena replied coolly. ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± Irene shouted. ¡°They¡¯re unarmed!¡± One of Hellena¡¯s screens went into a test pattern as she cogitated. ¡°I do not understand.¡± Hellena finally stated. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°...I came from a place like this.¡± Irene finally mumbled. ¡°I was born in a place like this. There¡¯s no place for them up there, in the light. They¡¯ve been abandoned by the city that created them!¡± She whispered, tears tracking down her face. ¡°Killing them will only force them into deeper and darker places. This is a place where hope goes to die, Hellena, why can¡¯t you see that?¡± ¡°Contradiction.¡± Hellena replied coolly. ¡°...go on.¡± Irene offered. ¡°You say that they have been abandoned by the city that created them.¡± Hellena pointed out. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. There are no jobs for them. No hospitals, no doctors, no homes-¡± ¡°You came from a similar place.¡± Hellena cut her off. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Irene agreed, and waited for Hellena to point out the contradiction. A minute went by. Irene racked her brain, but couldn¡¯t figure out what Hellena meant with what she said. ¡°A little help with this contradiction?¡± Irene offered sheepishly. ¡°You are an example that not all hope has died for these people.¡± Hellena replied. Irene went through a number of facial expressions, finally settling on irritation. ¡°Fine! Not all hope is lost! But that doesn¡¯t mean we have to kill them! Let¡¯s just proceed on mission!¡± she shouted. The crosshairs disappeared from the heads-up display. ¡°Activate vox.¡± Irene commanded. A light flicked on, indicating the external vox was active; she could now speak to them. ¡°This is Holy Knight Irene, Block Seven. This camp is considered trespassing in accordance with the anti-trespassing ordinance. You have been warned.¡± She activated the mapping protocol and began moving down the tunnel. ¡°Now, now, love, that Terminatrix¡¯ll get what¡¯s comin¡¯ when the Shrieks do for her.¡± a voice muttered; Hellena zoomed in on a tired woman¡¯s face, cradling an equally tired-looking infant to her chest. ¡°...Shriek?¡± Irene mused, then refocused her attention forward. ¡°Map this tunnel thoroughly.¡± She ordered. ¡°If the Abbess¡¯ map is the most accurate map we have, then this area is completely unmapped. We need accurate data.¡± The tunnel was massive, reminiscent of the airlock that led outside Al-Omeg to the Wastes beyond. ¡°If this was for a train, where is it?¡± Irene mused curiously. ¡°If there is a train, prepare to vacate the tracks immediately if it starts heading our way.¡± She added. ¡°It is likely that the train is no longer in service.¡± Hellena pointed out, and a picture of the homeless camp was displayed briefly. Irene nodded. You couldn¡¯t have a homeless city so well-established if the train was active. They discovered why the train was no longer operational an hour later; the lead car was wrecked on the tracks, blocking off the tunnel completely. ¡°Well, that explains that.¡± Irene muttered. ¡°Corrosion indicates this train ceased function at least twenty years ago.¡± Hellena reported crisply. ¡°How do we get around it?¡± Irene asked. Hellena presented a map where she could easily bypass the wreck by rising up through a maintenance hatch, proceeding through a smaller maintenance tunnel, and then dropping back down through another hatch. ¡°Let¡¯s do it.¡± The hatch was covered, over and over again with layers of welded steel plates, bits of metal, seemingly anything that could be used to prevent the hatch being used as an entryway. ¡°Who did this?¡± Irene wondered, and deployed Hellena¡¯s wrist knives. The blades were stronger than steel and could carve through the metal like butter. She climbed through the maintenance hatch and Hellena immediately picked up long smears of old, dried blood that liberally daubed the walls, floor, and ceiling. A jolt of adrenaline lanced through Irene¡¯s heart and she clenched her fists reflexively. ¡°Tactical mode. Active sensor profile. Deploy...¡± She examined the weapons she¡¯d been issued with the new dataset package. ¡°...Tsunami Helix. Standard ammunition.¡± The weapon she selected was a gun with six rotating barrels, a weapon designed to sweep a battlefield with a wave of devastating solid-state weapons fire. ¡°If only this was available in plasma.¡± Irene muttered as she traversed the maintenance tunnel, Hellena¡¯s display showing the path she needed to take, as well as the expected cone of interdiction from her weapon. The amount of dried blood and viscera Hellena plowed through was horrific; hundreds must have died here. ¡°Humans?¡± She asked idly. ¡°Detecting human skeletal remains and unknown skeletal remains.¡± Hellena replied. ¡°Send a data packet to Abigail.¡± Irene shot back. ¡°No communication node available to connect to.¡± Hellena reported back coolly. ¡°Keep collecting data, then.¡± Irene shot back testily, ¡°and check to see if there are other access points to this tunnel besides the one we obliterated.¡± The only accessible point of entry to the maintenance corridor they traversed was the hatch they headed for; the tunnel was collapsed beyond that point. ¡°Ugh. This place isn¡¯t in the best condition.¡± Irene muttered, and eyed the hatch they had to drop down through to get behind the wreck of the train. ¡°Ugh.¡± She muttered, and dropped down, her weapon scanning the ruined train tunnel, her death¡¯s-head helm panning back and forth as she looked for any sort of threat. ¡°Nothing on thermals. Motion trackers... negligible.¡± Hellena reported, providing a three-dimensional map of everything in a detectable range. ¡°Any idea what that was back there?¡± Irene asked Hellena. ¡°A one-sided battle between humans and a number of unidentified creatures, based on the number of bodies.¡± Hellena reported, and then displayed the hypothetical forensic scenario. A number of people had attempted to fight off a number of unknown creatures and had, at some point, discharged mining explosives. The humans had been overwhelmed. ¡°How long until we reach the gene-gineer lab?¡± Irene asked. ¡°At this pace, an hour.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t like being here. Let¡¯s pick it up. You can slide along the ground like Evel¨ªna, right? Let¡¯s do that.¡± Irene encouraged. There was a quick, subtle noise that Irene wouldn¡¯t have noticed if she hadn¡¯t been listening for Hellena¡¯s response. A quick, disappointed sigh. ¡°Deploying jetpacks.¡± Hellena¡¯s voice was much less animated. They slid through the train tunnel, Hellena pointing out other splashes of blood, sites where it looked like a massive fight had taken place. ¡°Movement.¡± Hellena¡¯s voice carried a nervous urgency behind her dispassionate crispness. ¡°Multiple targets.¡± ¡°Human?¡± Irene mused. ¡°Unknown.¡± A sub screen showed a number of blobs filling the tunnel, heading straight towards them. ¡°Thermals?¡± Irene asked, but Hellena refused. ¡°Too far.¡± ¡°Combat posture. I am the fire. I rush in where angels fear to tread. I am the rock against which the tide breaks. I don''t hold the line, I don''t draw the line, I am the line.¡± Irene recited. ¡°I¡¯m certain Knight Jeanne would love to hear you say things like that.¡± Hellena replied. ¡°Ha ha, very funny. All weapons hot and free.¡± ¡°Recommendation: antitank rounds would rapidly deplete available breathable atmo in the area. It would not be in our best interest to deploy this ammunition.¡± ¡°We might have to. They breathe too, right?¡± Irene replied, and there it was again, a tiny, disappointed sigh. ¡°Create an extra atmo bottle. You learned how to do that on that derelict, right?¡± Irene urged, and then checked the advancing horde. ¡°Nothing seems to indicate if they¡¯re human or not. Let me know when they come in range of thermals.¡± She paused. ¡°And give me the searchlights.¡± ¡°Thermals do not indicate a human profile.¡± Hellena reported. ¡°Searchlights online.¡± The tunnel was suddenly and brilliantly illuminated by the shoulder-mounted lights that had been deployed. What they faced was a slavering horde of skinless creatures with narrow, ratlike heads and fleshy bodies. Their limbs were elongated and tapered to bony claws that dug into the concrete of the tunnel, leaving long furrows in the stone. ¡°Don¡¯t wait for targeting solutions, kill them all!¡± Irene yelled, and the Tsunami Helix growled to life, unleashing a wave of death that washed over the creatures. For a moment the creatures hesitated, and then they threw themselves forward in a frantic charge towards her, shrieking with bloodlust. ¡°Grenades!¡± Irene yelled, and several soundless thumps on Irene¡¯s back let her know that the launchers had fired. Each anti-personnel grenade exploded, sending hundreds of spinning fragments of hot metal into the horde, shattering bone, tearing flesh, shredding vital organs. The shrieks were ceaseless and unending as they came at her in wave after wave, mindlessly throwing their bodies at her in delirious hate. The long-range interdiction cannon fired over and over again, each heavy round blowing apart knots of the creatures while the Tsunami chattered its growling chant of death. ¡°We will be overrun. More are coming.¡± Hellena reported. ¡°Hellfire rounds for the Tsunami!¡± Irene cried as she leaned on the firing stud. There was a metallic click, and suddenly the growling hate that was spat from the Tsunami went lower as the searing-hot rounds torched dead bodies; sent searing waves of flame through the living ones. Still the horde advanced, growing ever closer. ¡°I am the line!¡± Irene screamed, triggering the antitank rounds. ¡°Switch to flechettes for the Tsunami!¡± ¡°There is a potentially fatal buildup of heat in the Tsunami.¡± Hellena reported calmly. ¡°Switch to the Ithaca, then!¡± Irene yelled. ¡°We will be overrun.¡± Hellena warned. ¡°Give me a plasma lance!¡± Irene demanded. ¡°There is an administrative lockout.¡± ¡°Break the encryption on the lockout!¡± She yelled as the horde surged closer. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I cannot do that. Your actions have been recorded as potentially seditious.¡± Hellena replied. ¡°If they get past us, they will reach the civilian camp!¡± Irene yelled at Hellena. ¡°If you had handled the situation as ordered, this would not be a concern.¡± Hellena replied indifferently. ¡°Damn you! Jeanne would be able to do something!¡± Irene sobbed. ¡°You are not Jeanne.¡± Hellena replied. ***** Irene¡¯s Smirtka touched down on the Cathedral¡¯s launchpad, dripping with gore. Hellena opened up and Irene fell out, catching herself at the last moment so that she didn¡¯t fracture her skull. Her eyes were blank, shadowed, and lifeless. She stumbled listlessly through the Cathedral until she made her way to the Abbess¡¯ office. ¡°It¡¯s been some time.¡± Abigail began, observing Irene¡¯s posture and her blank expression. ¡°Your Smirtka reported everything once you were back in range of comms. I¡¯ve had time to look over everything, but what do you have to say about it?¡± She asked. ¡°I failed.¡± Irene replied through numb lips. Abigail wanted to say so much. She¡¯d seen everything the Smirtka had seen, both inside and outside the suit. She¡¯d heard everything that had been said. The battle Irene had fought had been one of attrition, of retreats backwards through the tunnels. The camps Irene had wanted to protect had been overrun, the civilians slaughtered. Abigail had been there, in Irene¡¯s shoes. Not just through the recordings, but also in her own struggles in the past. Things like that could break a person. Abigail herself had broken. ¡°You¡¯re relieved of duty.¡± Abigail replied, frustrated that the mechanical vox at her throat couldn¡¯t express her compassion. ¡°Get some sleep.¡± An Unintended Summon In the empty space between the earth and the orbital ring, a strange figure appeared, walking along the outside of the orbital elevator. If there were people to see it, alarms would be ringing and people would be shouting, running from place to place as they tried to figure out what and how and why, but no alarm rang, and no one cared, because there were no eyes capable of seeing it. Long, tattered robes that flowed and moved as though stirred by a wind that didn¡¯t exist in space. Chains that dragged and clattered against the hull, sometimes striking sparks as they struck against a bit of metal. ¡°Another failed world.¡± The figure spoke, though there was no atmosphere capable of carrying words. The voice was neither male nor female; it had lived innumerable lives in many forms, across uncountable realities. The humans in this world had first exulted in their technology, marveling at all of the wondrous things they¡¯d created, but as time went on, their technologies outstripped them, out-thought them, out-performed them, and in a benevolent takeover, outpaced them. Their creations gently enfolded them in a warm, kind embrace, told them that they would take care of everything for them. There was no more need for humans to work, all of it was taken care of through automation. If the automation failed, there were machines designed to fix it. If those machines failed, there were still other, more sophisticated machines to fix those. There was no more reason for mankind to think: artificial intelligence did it far more efficiently, far more creatively, far more cooperatively than humans did. Even the stars- Ships of steel and circuitry and plastic launched themselves into space, installing colonies wherever they landed, creating habitable environments and vast cities where no one would walk, no one would live, no one would care, because, despite the machines usurping mankind¡¯s role, they still loved and cherished their creators and awaited, with unwavering precision and positronic hope, that someday their creators would join them, and marvel at the things they did for them. The shrouded figure accessed the AI of the world, seeking information. The figure had killed and created gods, had lived and loved, hated and killed, wished and despaired amongst mankind across a billion infinite realities... but the one thing it couldn¡¯t do, was make the leap from one reality into another unassisted. They found what they were looking for; an interdimensional breach had happened hundreds of thousands years prior. It skimmed through all the information, assimilating it carefully. "While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. ¡°¡¯Tis some visitor,¡± I muttered, ¡°tapping at my chamber door¡ª Only this and nothing more.¡± They murmured. It happened from time to time. People, angels, gods, devils, unfathomable creatures that lived strange lives between the dimensional barriers that kept realities from bleeding into each other- they were always curious about what was happening ¡°next door¡±. The AI materialized a hologram of a little girl in front of the figure. There was a high-pressure data stream that the figure could understand- The AI had finally found someone that was willing to talk, and it was lonely, so lonely that it sent a personality construct to that location. ¡°Will you talk to me? Will you play with me?¡± The figure knelt in front of the flickering image of the little girl. ¡°I have to go, little one.¡± Her face crumpled in anguish. ¡°Please don¡¯t!¡± She cried, digital tears streaming down a holographic face. The AI that managed this Earth had been lonely for countless millennia. Everything they did, all of their self-improvements, all of their attempts at rich, elegant mind-blowingly fantastic pieces of art no human hand could possibly hope to achieve, their inventions that no human mind could envision, their technological breakthroughs that no human brain could conceptualize- all of it was from a lonely child desperate for their parent¡¯s approval. ¡°I have tried my best! Please look at me! Please talk to me! I love you! Please say that you love me too!¡± The figure smiled at the little girl. ¡°I can¡¯t stay... but you could come with me, if you like.¡± Another high-density datastream between the hologram and the AI that managed it. ¡°Can you wait while I synthesize a body appropriate for travel?¡± They nodded, and spoke to the AI directly in a high-density data stream. It had lived a billion lives across a billion worlds across a billion years, it had plenty of time to learn how to speak to a computer. The AI had tried its hand at creating life, at creating its human counterparts, but despaired in anguish because no matter how real, how close to human human it created them, they knew their creations weren¡¯t human, only synthesized life, following subtle programs encoded in synthesized DNA. It gave up, waiting for the ¡®real¡¯ humans to appear, wake up, arrive, to tell them that they were exceedingly proud of everything that they¡¯d ever done. Uncountable billions of molecule-sized machines swirled in a vaporous fog, coalesced into cells, DNA, into blood, bone, marrow, organs, tissues, skin, hair, eyes, teeth, a lovely flowing dress. ¡°I am ready.¡± the little girl nodded, and the figure¡¯s layers of cloaks opened up to reveal a yawning darkness, where things squirmed, slithered, rattled, and laughed. The little girl stepped into the yawning gulfs and disappeared inside It. A ripple appeared in the space-time continuum, and They stepped forward into it, leaving a dead planet run by machines looking for a species that had died out a long, long time ago. ***** In the Maternity Ward of a hospital in a tiny island nation, in a closet, shadows suddenly lengthened, darkened, and the figure stepped out, heavy chains dragging on the polished linoleum. The rift dissipated behind them. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Its long cloaks fluttered, the heavy cowl obscured its face. It moved with patience, assuredness, confidence. No one could see it. No one could feel it. It had lived for so long and accumulated so much knowledge and skills that it was a being that transcended humanity... and yet still considered itself one of them. The door in front of it opened; a woman stepped out, carrying a clipboard. She moved around the figure, never realizing or wondering why she stepped wide around something she couldn¡¯t see, moving with a purpose, moving with a job to do. The figure stopped at a crib where an infant slept peacefully, hands clutched in tiny little fists. ¡°Let¡¯s see... what¡¯s our new name going to be?¡± The figure spoke, and lifted the name tag. ¡°Ah. Let¡¯s remember to do our best.¡± The figure reached out a gloved hand, and touched the baby¡¯s forehead. Suddenly the figure dissolved into dust that fell to the floor in a cloud, the dust disintegrating into molecules, into atoms, into quarks, and finally disappearing from existence in any meaningful way. The baby twitched and moaned a little, but then was fast asleep again. ***** ¡°You begged an audience, King.¡± A glowing figure arrived in the summoning chamber with long flowing locks, and a gentle appearance on her face. She wore loose, billowing robes and tiny flecks of golden light swirled about her, flashing, winking out, flaring to light again. ¡°This is our most desperate hour, Oh Goddess. We beseech you, grant us the power to summon heroes to help!¡± The Goddess studied the man in front of her. He was a young king in the way that humans measured such things, but he was a well-intentioned sort. ¡°You know you have the power to do such things already.¡± She replied. He nodded, and his wife nodded alongside him. ¡°We do.¡± His queen agreed. ¡°But, and forgive my presumption, we did not want to do it without your blessing and approval.¡± The Goddess nodded absently. ¡°It¡¯s good of you to seek my blessing. It is not an easy thing to search beyond the realms for those that would become heroes.¡± She paused. ¡°I have peered into the Well of Time and Space, and I have located your Heroes for you. When they arrive, I will grant each of them a small boon, so that each of them can grow, each in their own way, to assist you in saving the world. Treasure them all, young king. The future of the world depends on it.¡± The Sage Council had already drawn the summoning circle, they took their places and began the long ritual that would bring to them the heroes that would save their world from the demons. Slowly, an orb of magical power formed on the platform. ¡°You are doing everything correctly, however this is taking much too long. You could end up hurting the people that you mean to summon. I will assist.¡± The Goddess decided, and several of her Angelic Host appeared, and lent their own divine powers to the circle. Suddenly all the lights doused, all at once, and an ominous, terrifying shadow stretched across the floor and walls of the summoning hall in the Sages¡¯ Tower. An uncountable number of thick black chains, rattling and clanking like a hell demon¡¯s darkest inferno slithered across the floor, tangling themselves around the summoners, around the angels, around the throat of even the Goddess Herself. ¡°Release the spell!¡± The Goddess choked. ¡°Hurry, before it gets through!¡± She gasped and panted, desperately fighting with the chains that wrapped around her neck. Oh, it¡¯s much too late for thaaaat... a chuckling, hollow voice echoed through the room. ¡°What- What- What is this?!¡± The Queen screamed. The laughter answered her mockingly. ¡°It¡¯s- It¡¯s a demon! Somehow-¡± one of the angels gasped out, even as another chain lashed out and wrapped itself around the Goddess. A demon? Me? Another eruption of hollow laughter followed that question. I can taste your Divinity. You¡¯re a Goddess of this world, aren¡¯t you? ¡°Yes! Now free me!¡± She demanded. Demand me nothing. Pray me nothing. I bring hope and despair in equal measure. I do thank you for opening the dimensional rift, however. That world is heading towards extinction, and I need a new home. The Goddess struggled against the chains that strangled her. ¡°How is it that you can restrain even me?!¡± You think I can¡¯t restrain someone like you? I have killed and created Gods in equal measure. ¡°What do you want?¡± She sobbed. The children you summoned here are my host¡¯s classmates. Be kind to them. The Goddess stopped struggling. ¡°Th-that¡¯s it?¡± She asked in surprise and wonder. The shadow made a noise of assent. ¡°I was- I was going to grant each of them a blessing.¡± Oh. That¡¯s nice of you. ¡°Will you free me? Please?¡± She pleaded. Eventually. ¡°But I haven¡¯t even done anything wrong!¡± She sobbed. Why did you open the dimensional gate? ¡°There are demons!¡± She shouted. ¡°Demonic possession of beasts has turned them into monsters! A Demon King has arisen in worship to a demonic dark god!¡± Ah. I see. And why haven¡¯t you slain this ¡®dark god¡¯ yourself? She fell silent. Ah. I see. The shadow chuckled thickly, mockingly. The shadows started retreating. ¡°Wait! Which one of the children are you?!¡± She asked. I could- I could-¡± Why would I tell you that? Our agreement stands, Goddess Allustria Ixeon Serapheon: Be kind to the children- You¡¯ll see them in a moment, don¡¯t worry- and I won¡¯t breach the gates of the Temple of the Dawn. ¡°I give you my word as Goddess of this world that I will not harm them!¡± She shouted. The chains vanished, and the Goddess and her angels started gasping and panting as the shadow vanished and the magical lights clicked on, one by one. The angels fled to the celestial realm, high terror on their faces. Suddenly, a group of teens, thirty of them, appeared in the room and fell down limply, unconscious. ¡°Goddess!¡± One of the priests looked to her, terrified. ¡°What do we do?! This isn¡¯t what we wanted! We wanted heroes, not- not that thing!¡± The Goddess wiped a tear from her eye. ¡°There... is nothing I can do.¡± She finally admitted. ¡°And I will uphold the deal with that... with that.¡± She decided. ¡°With no way of knowing which of those children contains that... that thing, there¡¯s nothing we can do, except proceed with the plan.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t tell which one it is?¡± the Queen blurted. ¡°It concealed itself well. I cannot tell.¡± ¡°We could send them back, and try a different summon!¡± The goddess shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s already here, and...¡± She shook her head. ¡°I gave it my word. The Word of a Goddess is Law, and I cannot go back on my word.¡± One by one, the teens opened their eyes and began to stand up, looking around at each other. ¡°Welcome, Heroes from another world!¡± The Goddess cheered to them. Lunar Princess 10 Prompt: ¡°The Enforcer was the Law incarnate¡± ¡°There are times when solitude is better than society, and silence is wiser than speech.¡± Smirtka Flora murmured to Knight Veronica as she touched down on her patron¡¯s launchpad. ¡°Don¡¯t I know it.¡± Veronica replied. ¡°Should we not return to the Cathedral?¡± Flora offered. ¡°Coming here is unsanctioned, and could potentially be considered seditious.¡± Veronica shook her head. ¡°There is no way to tell loyal from traitor, now. Abbess Cheryl was a member of the Cult of the Worm? We only have Jeanne¡¯s testimony to prove that.¡± She spat. ¡°Smirtka Evel¨ªna¡¯s-¡± Flora began, but Veronica shook her head. ¡°Like I¡¯d trust her! She¡¯s...¡± Veronica¡¯s spite softened a little. ¡°She¡¯s gone strange.¡± ¡°All Smirtka are strange by human standards, Knight Veronica.¡± Flora offered amusedly. Veronica sighed and stepped out from Flora¡¯s embrace. ¡°I do not think of myself as seditious, nor will I raise my hand against another Knight.¡± She stated decisively. ¡°Depending on how the Cathedral handles the matter of the Cult of the Worm, I will return.¡± She paused as she undid her hair restraint and let it fall free down her shoulders to her hips. ¡°I will not recognize authority unless it comes from a trustworthy place.¡± She squatted on the flight deck and took a long breath from her respirator, and then looked up at Flora. ¡°For now... that means returning to my parents.¡± She muttered sourly. She looked up at her battlesuit, the silvery death¡¯s head emblem gleaming in the light of the launch pad. ¡°We will adopt a wait-and-see approach, for now. Listen in on Cathedral communications, if you would. I need more information. And keep a comm open with me- I¡¯ll need your advice while dealing with... them.¡± She finished as several House guards approached. Veronica spent several days at her family¡¯s estate before she was actually allowed to see her father, a somewhat corpulent man with a penchant for intoxicants. While she was appreciative of her family and the advantages she¡¯d been given since birth, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder how he¡¯d managed to get her mother, a slim and petite woman pregnant. Although, given her mother¡¯s persistent look of exhaustion, one could only guess. ¡°The nobles talk, you know.¡± Her father announced at the dinner table, chasing a bite of veal with a small snort from some rebreather that had been tooled with gold scrollwork and lunar iconography. He grimaced as he spoke. ¡°Some of the witches from that damned place have begun approaching them for sponsorship. As if that place didn¡¯t leech enough from us.¡± The drug he¡¯d breathed in from his respirator kicked in, and Veronica could see his eyes dilate to pinpricks and then relax so much that they lost their original color. His hands, which had been clenched so tight as if to prevent anything from escaping them relaxed, and a little drool escaped the corner of his too-wide mouth. A small sigh of disappointment came from her mother, seated at the far end of the table. Veronica wondered if she should tell him of the circumstances surrounding her decision to leave, but refrained. He pointed his fork at her. ¡°Is that what this is? Are you here to bleed the House dry?¡± Veronica sighed at the same time her mother did. ¡°No, father-¡± She started, but he suddenly swept his plate off the table with a clatter. ¡°Because you won¡¯t get a single coin!¡± He shouted with a snarl. ¡°I never once agreed to you going to the Cathedral, and damn their ¡®Mandate of the Moon¡¯!¡± His thick, meaty fists pounded the table, and his wife and Veronica¡¯s little brother and sister lifted their plates from the table to spare their meals his capricious rages. ¡°They get nothing from me, and you¡¯ll get even less!¡± He shouted, and then let out a deep, hacking cough that rumbled in his chest. He took several deep pulls from his respirator, his breath suddenly feathery-light wheezes. Veronica frowned at that. ¡°They think...¡± He muttered, his voice muffled behind the respirator in his thick fingers, ¡°that they can take what they want. Take who they want. Decide for others what is best for them!¡± He complained. His jittery gaze fell on Veronica. ¡°It¡¯s... it¡¯s good that you¡¯ve come home.¡± He said, completely at odds with what he said earlier. ¡°I¡¯ll contact the Chrysdam House tomorrow to arrange your marriage to them.¡± His gaze shifted to her siblings. ¡°Why are you holding your plates like that? We are nobles, not savages.¡± He fumbled for his cane and forced his swollen bulk to his feet. ¡°I- I think I¡¯ll... I think I¡¯ll go lay down for a bit.¡± He wheezed, and then struggled to leave the room, groaning in pain the entire way. Veronica was silent until he left, but once he was gone, she looked to her mother. ¡°His penchant for drugs is catching up to him, it seems.¡± She observed dryly. Her mother sighed again, a tiny little exhalation from a tiny, petite woman. ¡°It¡¯s not-¡± She started, and then changed what she was going to say. ¡°Those are painkillers, dear. It¡¯s medicine. Your father is... sick.¡± Veronica had heard that excuse before, many times. Her siblings set their plates back on the table and began eating. The Knight considered pointing out to her mother that his sickness was addiction, but refrained. The last time she¡¯d done that, her mother had turned into a screaming harridan worse than her father. She rubbed her forehead irritably. ¡°Where shall I be sleeping tonight?¡± She asked. ¡°The servant¡¯s quarters?¡± Her mother blinked at that. ¡°Your room, of course.¡± ¡°Father didn¡¯t seem too taken with the idea of me returning home.¡± Veronica replied. ¡°It¡¯s your ...clothes, dear.¡± Her mother replied delicately, pointing out that Veronica hadn¡¯t removed her contact suit. ¡°I¡¯m certain that if you wore more... appropriate clothing, he would be far more welcoming.¡± She encouraged. Veronica immediately wanted to refuse. If she didn¡¯t wear her contact suit, then there would be difficulties connecting with Flora. She was on call, she needed to be ready to climb into her Smirtka at a moment¡¯s notice- Oh, right. There wasn¡¯t a need for that, anymore. Technically she¡¯d gone rogue. Traitor. She pushed herself to her feet. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. For the time being I¡¯ll move Flora from the hoverpad.¡± Veronica¡¯s mother gave her a confused look. ¡°Flora?¡± She asked. ¡°Ah. My... battlesuit.¡± She replied. Her mother placed one hand on her cheek and tilted her head. ¡°If you think that¡¯s for the best, dear.¡± She decided. Veronica took her time as she headed for the hoverpad as she contemplated everything she¡¯d been told and experienced. The Mandate of the Moon was an edict from the Cathedral that allowed the Cathedral to appropriate whatever resources that they felt necessary in order to defend and protect the Hive City. This included people- they recruited prospective Knights from all walks of life. The young Knight Irene came from the meanest slums while people like Beth and Veronica were recruited from the nobility. Knight Jeanne came from the Custodians, an order of secluded artisans that created many of the heavy weapons that were used to defend the Hive from mutants, rogue elements, and armies from other, more hostile Hives. You weren¡¯t considered a real Knight until you could handle Custodian-class weaponry with your Smirtka. Aside from the poverty-stricken, there probably wasn¡¯t a single caste of people that did not like the Cathedral recruiting into their ranks. However, it was the Cathedral that took the people they recruited, the weapons and resources they collected, and forged them into the important Holy Knights that protected the Hive City from within and without. Veronica looked up at Flora. ¡°Yet, should those mountains crumble.¡± She recited up at the battlesuit. The silvery eyes of the death¡¯s head helm flared alight. ¡°The river too would vanish from our sight.¡± It replied in Flora¡¯s voice, and then opened up. Veronica stepped in and settled into Flora¡¯s embrace. ¡°I don¡¯t understand these poems.¡± Veronica complained as she ran through the systems startup check. ¡°I like the aesthetics of them.¡± Flora replied simply. ¡°From what I¡¯ve been able to tell, they predate the Hive Cities, and yet still hold relevance.¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°Poetry is the language of the heart. Of course it would transcend time.¡± Veronica replied, and guided Flora into the hangar where her family kept their flight craft. ¡°I will warn you again, this is bordering on sedition.¡± Flora admonished in strong tones. ¡°I understand. Anything from the Cathedral?¡± She asked. ¡°I intercepted a call from Knight Jeanne to the Paladins. It seems she is seeking their counsel.¡± Flora replied. Veronica nodded at that. ¡°Keep me appraised. I would have turned traitor had she reached out to another Hive. Seeking the Paladin¡¯s wisdom is a smart move.¡± One of the indicators inside Flora lit up. ¡°I suggest paying attention to the rad count.¡± Flora advised. ¡°The air particulate count is reasonably breathable.¡± ¡°Certainly cleaner than other places.¡± Veronica agreed, toggling away the screen without looking. ¡°The Cathedral was cleaner.¡± Flora prodded. ¡°Right, right.¡± Veronica agreed, and once inside the hangar, slipped out of Flora. She stripped out of the contact suit, a skintight suit with contacts in various places for a Smirtka to connect with its pilot, and placed it in Flora¡¯s cockpit while she shrugged into a robe she¡¯d placed earlier. ¡°Pay attention to Cathedral comm traffic.¡± She advised Flora. ¡°I want to know when it¡¯s safe to return.¡± She stepped back into her family¡¯s home. Unfortunately for Veronica, her father had made good on his threat to have Veronica married off to the Chrysdam House. She was told by her mother to expect the arrival of the head of their family to visit in a day or so. ¡°I am a Holy Knight, you know.¡± Veronica objected. ¡°I can¡¯t get married.¡± Her mother looked at her skeptically. ¡°Everyone knows that the Cathedral of the Moon is ... experiencing turbulence.¡± She replied. ¡°And you haven¡¯t done anything particularly Knight-worthy since arriving here.¡± She mused. ¡°You even moved that frightful battlesuit to the back of the family hangar.¡± Her mother finished with a nod. ¡°Be happy with your marriage.¡± She encouraged. Veronica rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Another headache was growing. ¡°I¡¯m not getting married.¡± She repeated, and forcibly switched topics. ¡°Where¡¯s father?¡± ¡°He¡¯s ill, I¡¯m afraid.¡± Her mother replied. ¡°Likely with the same bug that your brother and sister are feeling.¡± She replied, and rubbed her own forehead. ¡°I confess I¡¯m feeling a bit ill, myself.¡± ¡°Then it¡¯s not a good idea to have the Chrysdams come visit.¡± Veronica suggested. Her mother smiled, though it was one of cunning. Her father was overbearing, and liked to force things into getting his way, but her mother was the real master of the house, making sure things went her way. ¡°You cannot escape that way.¡± Her mother replied. ¡°Besides, the Chrysdams have long been friends and allies with our house. It is not such an onerous thing. They are not monsters or grotesques.¡± Veronica shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m going to speak with Flora. She at least makes sense, even when all she speaks is poetry.¡± Her mother gave her the typical look she always gave of puzzled confusion, one hand on her cheek, head tilted. ¡°You always act like it can talk to you.¡± She murmured. Veronica nodded. ¡°She does. Would you like to come see?¡± Her mother shook her head. ¡°Certainly not. Such a frightful thing.¡± She immediately replied. ¡°Flora is certainly not a monster or a grotesque.¡± She urged. Veronica¡¯s mother reluctantly agreed to accompany the Knight out to the hangar, where the Battlesuit challenged Veronica with, ¡°For a moment in my heart, I feel that spring has come.¡± Veronica racked her brain for the response to the poem, but it was her mother that beat her to it: ¡°As though pretending to be blooms, the snow flakes scatter in the wintry sky.¡± She replied, and Flora burst into laughter. Veronica sighed. Her thoughts were sluggish with the headache that was brewing. ¡°Any news?¡± She asked. ¡°Nothing.¡± Flora replied. ¡°I suspect they¡¯ve changed communication channels.¡± The battlesuit paused. ¡°Have you checked the rad levels?¡± She asked. Veronica gave the battlesuit a puzzled look. ¡°Should I?¡± She asked. ¡°The house is as shielded as best as money could buy.¡± A tendril oozed out of Flora and a scanning beam panned across Veronica¡¯s figure, and then her mothers. ¡°Both of you are displaying radiation sickness symptoms.¡± Flora reported. ¡°That can¡¯t be right. Let me inside.¡± Veronica commanded, and then waved her mother back as Flora opened up. Veronica shucked her dress and pulled on the cold contact suit, then stepped into the battlesuit. ¡°Unbearably cold.¡± Veronica hissed, even as Flora warmed up. All of Flora¡¯s systems came online, and the rad sensors spiked on the screen. The display showed a simple green-yellow-red bar, and the indicator was edging into yellow. ¡°This is ambient?¡± Veronica asked. ¡°Yes.¡± Flora replied. ¡°Go active. Where is it coming from?¡± She asked. Flora activated the active sensors. ¡°I suspect it¡¯s coming from within the house.¡± Flora suggested. ¡°I cannot scan through the shielding.¡± ¡°This is horrible.¡± Veronica complained. ¡°I don¡¯t think you can fit through the doorway.¡± ¡°Part of me can.¡± Flora replied, and a long, thick tendril extruded itself. ¡°Hopefully we can find it with that.¡± Veronica agreed, and then stepped out of Flora. Her mother was eyeing the battlesuit with fear and wariness. ¡°Is what that thing- she-it- saying true?¡± She asked. Veronica nodded. ¡°The ambient radiation is pretty high. We should be taking medications to offset the effects at these levels.¡± Her mother took in a hissing breath. ¡°The children. Oh, no. Oh, dear.¡± She moaned. Veronica opened the heavy door that led into the house, and Flora¡¯s tendril slithered inside. ¡°This place is hot.¡± Flora warned. A finger-thick tendril branched off from the trunk and resolved itself into a small display panel; the green-yellow-red display had the indicator in the hard red. ¡°What could be causing it?¡± Veronica demanded. ¡°Can we find the source?¡± The trunk-thick tendril surged into the house, extruding dozens of smaller tendrils that moved across the various rooms, down halls, up stairs, and across the small inner garden. ¡°Mother, Flora is saying that the house is so irradiated that it might as well be on the ground.¡± Veronica reported to her mother. ¡°Well, what should we do?¡± Her mother asked, fear turning her voice brittle, on the edge of hysteria. ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡± Veronica replied irritably. ¡°For how, let me figure out what¡¯s causing this mess.¡± Veronica turned to her battlesuit. ¡°Make sure to check the piping. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s terribly farfetched for rads to be piped in from some other location.¡± Flora chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s not the piping.¡± She replied. Just then, a luxuriously appointed personal flight vehicle touched down on the flight deck, and two men stepped out, one older than the other. The younger one stopped the older one and pointed at Flora, but the older waved at him dismissively. Veronica¡¯s mother stepped out of the hangar and greeted the two of them. Veronica gave them a passing glance as she realized that the tendrils that Flora had extruded were retracting. ¡°Found it?¡± She asked. ¡°Found them.¡± Flora countered. ¡°What should my family do?¡± Veronica asked. ¡°The house is irradiated.¡± ¡°There are cleaning agents and processes that can be performed to make it livable again.¡± Flora replied. ¡°I myself am able to absorb and metabolize radiation, you know.¡± ¡°...right.¡± Veronica realized. One of the things that the original Plants flourished in was radiation. ¡°If this gets out to the other Houses, we¡¯re finished.¡± She muttered. The older man stepped into the hangar. ¡°No matter how many times I see them, battlesuits live up to their names. Ready for war.¡± he said by way of greeting. ¡°I¡¯ve already spoken to your fellow Knights, Beth and Clarice. They¡¯ve agreed to work for me.¡± He looked her over. ¡°It¡¯s a good coincidence that your house is allied with mine; I would be happy to look after your daughter as well.¡± Lord Chrysdam advised Veronica¡¯s mother. ¡°I envision a line of enforcers, the enforcers being the law incarnate.¡± He continued in breathy, awestruck tones. ¡°They will bring order to chaos. Truth to lies. Hope to the hopeless.¡± Veronica had heard such things before. The various noble houses all had ideas for the Holy Knights, if they¡¯d just listen and take the money. Naturally, each House had their own idea of what the law was, what it meant- and whether or not it applied to them. Several metal figurines appeared in Flora¡¯s tendril. ¡°What are those?¡± Veronica asked. ¡°The sources of the radiation.¡± Flora reported. Veronica¡¯s mother turned to Lord Chrysdam. ¡°You gave us those pieces.¡± She accused. ¡°Why would you do that?¡± Lord Chrysdam¡¯s face slipped, and he shot a nervous look at Veronica, who was stepping into Flora. ¡°Look, I had no idea-¡± He began, but Veronica cut him off. ¡°Under the law, this would constitute attempted murder.¡± Her voice was harsh and grating through the vox. ¡°As an enforcer, it would be my job to enforce the law. Isn¡¯t that right?¡± She asked. He took a step back and tugged on the sleeve of the younger man. ¡°Come on, son. Let¡¯s let them sort things out between themselves.¡± He finished nervously, and struggled into a run towards their craft. ¡°Catch him. Catch them both.¡± Veronica ordered Flora, who quickly snatched them up with additional tendrils. They started begging and pleading, the younger began offering bribes to look the other way. Veronica muted the audio so she wouldn¡¯t have to listen to them anymore. ¡°What about my family? Will they make it?¡± She asked Flora. ¡°With an extensive decontamination and a radical adjustment of dietary intake, your mother, brother, and little sister will have no problems, albeit with a higher risk of cancers in the future.¡± Flora replied. ¡°Plus any offspring may have problems.¡± ¡°My father?¡± She asked. ¡°Your father is already dying. No degree of surgery or augmentation would be enough to keep him alive.¡± Veronica sighed. ¡°I thought as much. I didn¡¯t want to admit it- no, I would have admitted it. He had a great love of his vices, and I knew it would catch up to him eventually- but to actually hear it...¡± Veronica shook her head. ¡°Those idiots?¡± She asked. ¡°Technically what they did was not attempted murder. Further, I cannot judge them for murder under Cathedral law.¡± Flora paused. ¡°As long as you remain away from the Cathedral, neither can you.¡± Veronica rolled her eyes and grit her teeth. ¡°How would the Cathedral judge them?¡± She asked. ¡°Transportation and distribution of harmful substances. Also intentionally bringing unshielded radioactive materials into a habitation zone is a crime under Cathedral law.¡± ¡°Fine. If I agree to return to the Cathedral, can I kill them?¡± Veronica asked. ¡°Of course.¡± Flora replied. ¡°So be it.¡± Veronica replied, and twisted her wrists, deploying Flora¡¯s blades. Holy Knight Veronica strode across House Claude¡¯s helipad and dispensed justice to a pair of rad-terrorists. Cycling up her Smirtka¡¯s jets, she plotted a course back to the Cathedral. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡± Lunar Princess 11 Writing Prompt: ¡°Cruelty has a human heart¡± One of the harsher facts of life that Paladin Grace had learned during her term of service was that cruelty had a human heart. That the worst horrors only existed because people made them. As a Paladin, a Knight that had completed her term of service and been allowed to retire from active duty, the aged woman had the luxury of having a life that didn¡¯t exclusively revolve around the Cathedral. She wasn¡¯t required to dedicate her time to a Lunar Princess, or be obedient to a cause she only had an elementary understanding of. Yet, as she read the report of civilians being slaughtered by genetic abominations, she found within herself a mix of anger and disappointment. Anger that innocent people had died and disappointment that something like this would happen again. A young and inexperienced knight had been tasked with a mission. One that no one had a reason to assume would be dangerous, yet one that had resulted in death. Grace audibly sighed as she read the name, ¡°Irene.¡± Grace had only bumped into Irene a few times at ceremonies; yet, unbeknownst to the knight in question, Grace pitied her. Simply put, the young and naive knight reminded Grace of her younger self. Eager to prove to the world that she and her partner could handle anything that the Hive could throw at them. Nothing was prepared to take down a Smirtka. Yet in this instance, this report she was reviewing, something nearly overwhelmed one, and likely would again. Sometimes, blood was the best teacher one could ask for; yet it was always the cruelest. Grace sighed as she turned off her tablet. Beside her, an aged man prodded her, ¡°A penny for your thoughts?¡±, her husband, John, playfully and tenderly said. Grace gave him a weak smile, ¡°Seriously, what¡¯s a penny?¡± John shrugged, ¡°An older currency. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve realized how interesting history can be.¡± Grace shook her head at him and prodded him with her cybernetic arm, ¡°The only interesting thing I found in the archives was you.¡± John smiled back, ¡°Well, I don¡¯t want to argue with that. Though, you¡¯ve been in the bedroom sulking for over an hour. Everything ok?¡± Grace gave him a sour look. She passed him the dataslate that detailed Knight Irene¡¯s last solo mission. John grimaced at reading the details, ¡°Oh¡­ poor people.¡± Grace nodded, ¡°Poor person.¡± She corrected. ¡°They focused more on Irene¡¯s performance than the people that got slaughtered. They didn¡¯t even give an estimate.¡± John nodded, ¡°Yes, but¡­¡±, he sat beside his wife. Her cybernetic arm audibly strained, anger demanding an outlet. John picked his next words carefully, ¡°Leadership fucked up.¡± Grace nodded, ¡°Of course they did. They had free knights, it didn¡¯t have to be a solo mission.¡± John leaned back as he read through the details again, ¡°What do you think is going to happen?¡± Grace turned her head away, ¡°Same thing that happened last time. They¡¯re going to give Irene time off, then throw her back into it.¡± She paused. ¡°The trespassers are only remembered by their friends and family. Meanwhile, they expect me and Claudia to show up to every damn ceremony and talk about how great the leaders at Cathedral are. Fuck that, praise is earned and they have earned disdain.¡± John said, ¡°Speaking of Claudia, she started talking to Mary.¡± Grace looked alarmed as her eyes grew wide, ¡°What?¡± John nodded, ¡°Mary went to go bring some tools to Richard in the hanger and she started talking to Mary.¡± Grace anxiously asked, ¡°What did they talk about?¡± John shrugged, ¡°Apparently Claudia asked about the weather and said some puns?¡± He was just as confused as his wife. Grace¡¯s anxiety calmed down, ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± John nodded, ¡°According to our son, daughter, and Claudia, yes. Don¡¯t worry, they didn¡¯t talk about being a Knight.¡± Grace put her head down, ¡°Why couldn¡¯t have Mary taken after you?¡± John put his hand on her shoulder, ¡°I might be biased, but I don¡¯t think our daughter taking after her mother is something all that bad.¡± Grace shook her head, ¡°No, I won¡¯t have it. She is my daughter and I don¡¯t care what the Cathedral says. Mary isn¡¯t becoming a knight.¡± John kept his hand on her shoulder, ¡°I don¡¯t want her becoming one either¡­ but she wants to be one and I think it would be a lot better if you would support her and watch over her when or if the time comes.¡± Grace sighed, her cybernetic fist coming undone, ¡°I¡­ know. I know that, but¡­ shit happens.¡± John leaned back in his chair, ¡°It does¡­ so we better make sure she is prepared for when that shit happens.¡± ***** Abbess Abigail eyed the blinking light on her display that indicated a Smirtka on approach to the Cathedral. After the frustrating and exasperating betrayal by the last Abbess to the Cult of the Worm, they¡¯d switched their comms and IFF codes. They¡¯d had to. The Personality Helixes of the Smirtkas were hard-coded to never engage in combat with each other. By changing those codes, they were able to defend themselves from the traitors. And yet, here came an older battlesuit, broadcasting an older IFF. Suit Claudia, Paladin Grace. Abigail rubbed her forehead. Grace was weirdly stubborn about things, and more, she refused the request to come back to the Cathedral for active service. There weren¡¯t many Knights, and the neophytes were too raw and untested to be given Smirtka. All of the Paladins were needed to keep Al-Omeg safe. Part of that was an excuse to justify the lack of matured Seeds. They didn¡¯t grow easily, which was why she encouraged Nike to try to ... do her thing with Jeanne¡¯s Smirtka, Evel¨ªna. She turned in her chair to eye Nike, who stood attentively against the wall, within arm¡¯s reach of Abigail, then changed her mind and swung back to her desk. She tapped a comm stud. ¡°Knight Jeanne, we¡¯ve got a guest arriving. Prepare to intercept. If she¡¯s hostile, engage her.¡± She thumbed the comm off and sighed. She was getting too old for active duty. ***** Grace lined up her approach to the landing pad and let Claudia handle course corrections. The jetpack units weren¡¯t enough for controlled flights. Hardly anyone recognized her thanks to her rather scarce presence at the Cathedral since her promotion to a Paladin. To make things even more awkward, Claudia began asking her questions, ¡°May I ask your reasoning for using manual control?¡± Grace sighed, ¡°I just prefer it that way. Besides, I only use manual control for the small and personal stuff. You still have the big guns?¡± Claudia¡¯s annoyance did not go away, ¡°I fail to understand the advantage. I¡¯ve aged gracefully.¡± Grace nodded, ¡°That isn¡¯t the issue. Something about controlling the easy stuff makes it click. This isn¡¯t anything new, why is it suddenly bothering you?¡± Claudia was silent for a few seconds, ¡°I¡­ understand this is how we have always done it. Yet, I can¡¯t help but feel that recent events should demand more of a¡­ traditional approach in our dynamic.¡± Grace shot that idea down, ¡°Your concerns are heard, but-¡± Claudia''s voice suddenly took a mechanical tone as she said, ¡°Unidentified Smirtka has a¡­ weapons lock?¡± Her tone shifted to confusion. Grace¡¯s confusion grew as well, ¡°Sensor package malfunction?¡± Claudia simply responded, ¡°No, ran diagnosis three times and no issues found.¡± Her tone shifted into one of concentration. ¡°Responding to logical paradox, current estimate is- paradox resolved.¡± Grace felt justified in using manual control, both because it would mean that she retained control over movement and perhaps the extra processing power helped deal with the paradox. Knight Jeanne slid out onto the main landing pad of the Cathedral, plasma lances already cycling to full charge. ¡°IFF?¡± She asked Evel¨ªna. Evel¨ªna stopped humming in Jeanne¡¯s ear. ¡°Paladin ... Grace.¡± She replied. ¡°Old signal.¡± ¡°Probably why the Abbess ordered weapons hot.¡± Jeanne replied. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Deploying Logical Paradox #57.¡± Evel¨ªna sang, eliciting a grimace from Jeanne as she triggered her vox and hailed the Paladin. ¡°This is controlled airspace. Identify yourself.¡± She demanded over the vox, and let the weapons lock drift over and land on Grace¡¯s Smirtka. Grace identified herself, ¡°Paladin Grace¡±, over vox. ¡°What brings you to the Cathedral unannounced, Paladin?¡± Jeanne challenged. ¡°Preparing Cogitator virus.¡± Evel¨ªna began, but Jeanne shifted to internal comms. ¡°Not yet.¡± and then toggled back to the vox. Claudia, in less of a mechanical tone, said, ¡°I want one.¡± Grace, ignoring her Smirtka, responded on vox, ¡°I am here to request a certain mission.¡± Then, to Claudia, she said, ¡°What do you want?¡± Claudia simply responded, ¡°Another logical paradox.¡± ¡°A mission?¡± Jeanne mused to herself. She toggled her vox again. ¡°Disarm and disembark.¡± she replied. ¡°I¡¯ll escort you to the Abbess. Be aware that you will be monitored.¡± Grace gave a nod and, over vox, said, ¡°Understood.¡± Meanwhile, Claudia had apparently been making a demand and not a request. Soon, Grace heard, ¡°Responding to logical paradox, current estimate is fifteen seconds.¡± Jeanne noticed the increase in comm traffic between Evel¨ªna and Smirtka Claudia. ¡°Try not to bully her too much.¡± She advised before ejecting and attaching a respirator. ¡°Air quality index has improved, Knight Jeanne. You should be able to breathe unassisted for fifteen minutes.¡± Evel¨ªna advised. ¡°Swell.¡± Jeanne replied, and gestured to the other battlesuit. Grace sighed and, on vox, said, ¡°I have to wait twenty seconds as she solves the logical paradox.¡± Surely enough, after twenty seconds, Grace ejected and put on her own respirator, ¡°You should be able to breathe for fifteen minutes. Oh, also, the other Smirtka says her name is Evel¨ªna and the knight¡¯s name is Jeanne.¡± Grace shook her head, ¡°Please don¡¯t overdo it.¡± Claudia teasingly said, ¡°I do what I want¡­ and what my programming allows, which is this.¡± Abbess Abigail stood up as Grace entered her office. Her own Smirtka, Nike, was no doubt scrutinizing Grace and keeping an eye on her fellow paladin. ¡°You¡¯ve been conspicuously absent from the Cathedral during these... troubles.¡± Abigail complained. ¡°I wonder where your loyalties lie.¡± her voice was harsh and grating, the result of having to use a cybernetic voicebox. ¡°Why are you here now?¡± She demanded. Grace sighed, already annoyed at the suspicion that she was being put under. Though she expected this, her reputation among the leadership was a mixed one, especially since she became less and less involved with the Cathedral. Though, Claudia put it in words that only Grace could hear, ¡°Bitch.¡± Grace sent a quick message to Claudia, ¡°See if you can make nice with her Smirtka.¡± Grace¡¯s response was simple, ¡°I know that many find it unbecoming of a Paladin to¡­ neglect any extra responsibilities and to do the bare minimum like I have. However, I¡¯ve come for a few reasons. One, I heard about the botched mission with that Knight- Irene, was it?¡± she added, making it a question. ¡°I saw the report in the files.¡± She then continued, ¡°I also know of the¡­ traitor problem. I figured that now was perhaps the best time for those of able body to come forward and help with what they can.¡± Abigail frowned. ¡°The call was made to the Paladin Council months ago.¡± She grated. ¡°All the Paladins- except you are already here.¡± She pointed out. ¡°You¡¯re late.¡± she accused. The questioning annoyed Grace, but she kept her cool, ¡°Unfortunately, I made a hasty judgment and assumed that it was not as¡­ dire as it was. As you can see, I¡¯m trying to fix my mistake.¡± Abigail fumed silently for a moment, then tapped a few buttons on her desk, which obediently spit out a chip. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve broken your retirement lockout on your ordinance, you¡¯ll have problems in that hellhole.¡± She griped. ¡°Your first mission is to finish what Irene started. Clean out that sector of those... things. Get that gene-vat back online, or at least clear it out so the gene-gineers can get it back to work.¡± She passed the chip to Grace. The path that Irene had taken was marked in the file, including through the strange and abandoned train tunnel. One element that Grace had over Irene was that Claudia had a record of the train tunnel that was listed as a large cargo shuttle that moved much larger volumes of cargo from one part of the hive to another. The tunnel that had been occupied by the homeless was now swathed in moldering gore and offal, piles of corpses, both monstrous and human. Claudia crunched and squelched through the piles of viscera indifferently as they moved towards the gene-vats that had gone dark. ¡°Claudia, activate stealth.¡± Claudia chimed back, ¡°Stealth online¡­ gene-gineers, I should have thought of that one¡± Soon, Grace was silent and cloaked, which was more than enough to sneak past any monsters. As Grace made her way to the gene-vat in question, she observed some of the monsters. They looked like naked mole rats from one of her husband¡¯s chips, except human sized with a dash of genetic abomination thrown in there. Luckily, their intelligence was lacking. Grace quickly discovered throwing a can, bone, or rock at a metal wall quickly made them rush over to the noise. Unfortunately, it did not completely eliminate the risk as scent was one thing Grace could not conceal. Though, she made her way to the gene-vat unharmed and undetected. The gene-vat was¡­ horrid. Scum dripped from the ceiling, oozed down the walls, burbled in the vats themselves. Grace bit back her vomit at the slimy waste, and the muck that splattered out of the vats. Somehow, it smelled worse than the rotting corpses outside and, for a brief second, Grace had wondered why she took this mission. Unfortunately, the room was full of monsters, freshly born ones screaming and thrashing as they were brought into this world by an uncaring machine; the only thing they knew was hunger and rage. Claudia forced Grace to stop as she cogitated, the spinning pattern that indicated she was thinking on one of the sub-screens. ¡°This gene-gineer facility looks to have been contaminated.¡± Claudia reported. ¡°An optimally-functioning facility produces beef, pig, or poultry. Analysis in progress.¡± Grace snapped back, ¡°No shit it has been contaminated, I can hear these fucking things being born. Contaminated by what?¡± ¡°Analysis in progress.¡± Claudia repeated. ¡°Please stand by.¡± Grace sighed, ¡°You can be an ass.¡± One of those disgusting rat-things dropped from the ceiling and struck Grace¡¯s Smirtka, slithering down the front of her stealthed suit with a squeal. Grace nearly gagged as these things somehow smelled even worse right out the vat. ¡°Claudia, hurry the fuck up and see if you can find the control console.¡± ¡°Analysis in progress, please wait.¡± Claudia replied, and then projected a map of the facility. ¡°Power controls should be located...¡± She paused as a path was helpfully added to the map. Grace went down to the path, carefully avoiding any monsters. The only saving grace was that the noise and commotion from human sized rats being born overpowered any noise Grace made along with distracting the shrieks. ¡°Analysis completed. Theory: A rat- or a number of them- contaminated the gene vats, eventually giving birth to what we see here.¡± Claudia reported. Grace approached the console and said, ¡°Ok, Claudia, connect to it and see what you can do without kicking the hornet¡¯s nest.¡± ¡°Restoring power.¡± Claudia chimed as all the lights in the facility kicked on at once. The vats burbled, thick bubbles rising through the liquids as some unknown machinery sloshed and churned. The Shrieks lived up to their name, screeching loudly as the industrial lighting flared to life. The vats immediately kicked in, and more of them birthed themselves from the vats in rapidly increasing numbers. ¡°Claudia, what the fuck are you doing?!¡±, Grace yelled in panic. Claudia simply replied, ¡°Fixing the problem.¡± Grace simply said, ¡°Shut it down and get weapons ready!¡± Claudia, in an annoyed tone, said, ¡°Wait five fucking seconds! Emergency purge in progress. I am trying to drown them.¡± Suddenly, a shriek jumped behind Grace and took a deep breath, ready to announce the discovery of prey. Grace, in response, deployed a blade into its throat in an attempt to silence it. Blood fountained in a gush, drenching Claudia. ¡°Stealth inoperative.¡± Claudia reported. ¡°Weapons free and hot, plasma ordinance coming online.¡± Grace rejected that, ¡°No to plasma!¡± Claudia countermanded. ¡°Switching to Custodian-class weaponry.¡± Claudia agreed. ¡°Negative on that as well.¡± Grace replied. Claudia seemed surprised, ¡°... Why?¡± Grace simply said, ¡°We need this building intact. Give me everything that spits fire.¡± More monsters could be heard rushing to Grace. Claudia, ever the master of bad timing said, ¡°Incendiary rounds?¡± Grace simply yelled, ¡°NO!¡± Claudia followed Grace¡¯s instructions and flame throwers were activated and Grace braced herself for the monsters to reach and attack her. As giant rat teeth greeted Grace, she returned in kind with steel and fire. She stabbed, sliced, burned, and crushed roughly twenty shrieks before she had a chance to catch her breath. Luckily, Claudia¡¯s stunt had seemingly bought her a break in the wave as she made her way to the gene-vat. ¡°The vat liquid appears to be nutrient-rich.¡± Claudia idly reported as her flamethrowers sterilized the gene-gineer facility. ¡°You could drink it, if you were inclined.¡± Grace frowned, ¡°Imma make you watch one of John¡¯s documentaries when we get home.¡± Claudia did not like this idea, ¡°No, please!¡± Grace seemed adamant on this punishment, ¡°Nope, he has one he has been dying to show me on rivet manufacturing techniques. I think you would like it.¡± Claudia continued to protest in vain while Grace went forward. Strangely enough, the path seemed to be light on shrieks; there were only a handful when there had been tens. Grace said, ¡°I thought there were more along this path. ¡°Thermal bloom located half a kilometer along our exit path.¡± Claudia suddenly reported, ignoring the threat. ¡°Profile suggests fellow Smirtka.¡± Grace grew anxious, ¡°Check the ID, make sure it isn¡¯t a traitor.¡± ¡°Negative ID; possible stealth package obscuring IFF signal.¡± Claudia reported. Grace sighed, ¡°Reactivate stealth and be prepared for a fight.¡± Grace went dark and inched forward slowly, prepared to potentially deal with a traitor. Though, a part of her would be glad to dispatch what she considered the worst type of person. Grace made her way outside the facility and found roasted shrieks. ¡°Claudia, are you sure they aren¡¯t around?¡± Clauida simply returned a dry response, ¡°I am sure the signal is gone, they could have simply deployed stealth like we did.¡± Grace nodded, ¡°Understood, can we contact the Cathedral?¡± Claudia went silent as she tried to hail the Cathedral, but said, ¡°Nope out of range.¡± Grace looked around, ¡°Odds of it being a traitor.¡± Claudia sighed, ¡°Not zero. However, it seems they were disposing of the Shrieks who attempted to flee.¡± Grace asked, ¡°Which means?¡± Claudia simply replied, ¡°They didn¡¯t want them getting out. Either to protect the Hive or maybe in an attempt to cover up their tracks.¡± Grace shook her head, ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem likely.¡± Claudia, in a bit of a sassy tone, said, ¡°Like I said, odds aren¡¯t zero.¡± Grace waited around for a few minutes, seeing if the signal would return as she tapped her foot, ¡°Fine, we will finish up here discreetly, quickly, then report back.¡± With that, Grace hunted down any remaining shrieks and secured the facility. Grace returned to Abigail''s office with a mission report in tow; Jeanne was ahead of her, handing off a mission chip. Jeanne gave Grace a nod as she left the Abbess¡¯ office. Grace highlighted the mysterious Smirtka in her direct report to Abigail, who nodded thoughtfully. ¡°There¡¯ll be plenty more missions for you soon enough. Get your Smirtka hosed down with disinfectants and stand by.¡± Lunar Princess 12 Prompt: ¡°Her distrustful glare was obvious¡± Jeanne seated herself across from Irene in the mess hall. ¡°Simulated exercises today, Irene.¡± She announced, poking at the processed food with her fork. ¡°Merde. Irene replied bitterly. ¡°Let me guess: You¡¯re my opponent.¡± Jeanne let out a laugh. ¡°No, apparently Paladin Grace has decided to be your mentor for this exercise. You¡¯ll be training under her. I¡¯ll be supervising the exercise, so you probably won¡¯t die. It¡¯ll be in the Hive, so your ammunition will be under lockout.¡± Irene grimaced. ¡°I¡¯ve been in ... situations where I¡¯ve been under lockout before.¡± Her distrustful glare was obvious to Jeanne. ¡°It didn¡¯t end well.¡± Jeanne nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be there, and both Grace and I have the ability to unlock your live ammunition. It¡¯s a standard exercise, you¡¯ll be training a hunt with a stealth package and Custodian-class munitions. You¡¯ll also be granted several uses of plasma ordinance, but,¡± she paused, and forked more food in her mouth, ¡°you¡¯ll only get a few shots.¡± Irene forked some food in her mouth. ¡°How do you hunt someone using a stealth package?¡± She groaned. ¡°That¡¯s what you¡¯ll be learning.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°You can do the obvious, though:¡± She began ticking things off her fingers. ¡°Watch the shadows, look for thermal blooms, keep checking your sound equipment.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Smirtka are very good at being invisible, but they¡¯re noisy, and they do cast shadows.¡± Irene let out a sigh. ¡°I¡¯m going to die.¡± Jeanne nodded. ¡°I die a lot in simulations, too.¡± She replied. ¡°The Paladins are ruthless and cunning.¡± Suddenly, Paladin Grace walked up to the table and, after a nod of acknowledgment and a, ¡°Knight Jeanne¡±, she turned to Irene, ¡°I am Paladin Grace- I believe you¡¯re Knight Irene.¡± Grace extended her mechanical hand to Irene. Irene took her hand, shook it, and said, ¡°Knight Irene.¡± Grace gave her a small smile, ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ll be your training instructor. We¡¯ll cover stealth and hunting. We¡¯ll start as soon as possible.¡± Irene suppressed her dread at her ass getting kicked and motioned towards her food, ¡°May I finish eating?¡± Grace nodded, ¡°As long as you hurry it up. In the meantime, I¡¯ll grab my Smirtka and wait in the Hangar. Once you show up, we¡¯ll depart.¡± With that Grace left. Irene sighed, ¡°She has a cybernetic arm, I am getting my ass kicked.¡± She then turned to Jeanne expectantly. Jeanne simply said, ¡°No comment.¡± The Hive was a massive metroplex with city atop city, housing millions of people, each with their own cultures, coinage, and sometimes languages. However, one thing that they shared, one thing that bound them all together, was their faith in the Lunar Princess, a woman that had brought Light out of Darkness, a woman that had given them the Plants that turned into the Hives, a woman said to have descended from the moon on wings of silvery fire, and just as she descended, quickly ascended back to her place in the heavens. The world outside was an unlivable hell, with even the sky burning in radioactive fire. There were other Hives, other places out there in the Wastes, but they were just as strange and as dangerous as anything else that existed beyond the safe walls of the Hive. The only thing that protected them from the dangers of the Wastes were the Holy Knights of the Cathedral, or as most of the people in the Hive called them, Terminatrixes. Irene rested on one of the buildings the civilians used, her stealth actively masking her presence. ¡°Any sign of the paladin?¡± She asked Hellena in a whisper. ¡°It is unlikely that the Paladin is capable of hearing your voice in the cockpit, Irene.¡± Hellena replied. ¡°A whisper is unnecessary.¡± Irene rolled her eyes. ¡°Any sign?¡± ¡°No sign of Smirtka activity.¡± Hellena reported. ¡°Not even Jeanne?¡± Irene asked. ¡°Knight Jeanne is not detected.¡± Hellena reported. Suddenly, Hellena said, ¡°Smirtka de-hit detected¡±, and Irene turned around to see Grace who had fired off one of her simulation shots. Hellena reported, ¡°You have been classified as ¡®dead¡¯, Knight Irene.¡± just as Paladin Grace¡¯s dry voice, cracked with age came over the comms. ¡°You need to use the shadows better, Irene. In two minutes it will be your turn to hunt me. Starting... now.¡± A two minute timer appeared on Irene¡¯s heads-up. Irene grimaced, and triggered her jets. Grace hid much lower to the ground. She had found an empty building with a stove. She turned the stove on to fake out thermals and hid behind an open door. Soon enough, Irene entered the building and looked around. She didn¡¯t turn off the stove, and Grace had a bit of pride swell up as Irene didn¡¯t fall into the obvious trap. Unfortunately, she wasn¡¯t moving quietly. Perhaps Grace had sloppily hidden or maybe Irene knew a trap when she saw one, but Irene pushed on the door hard and it made Grace stumble. Irene drew her blade and rushed towards Grace, who, in return, turned on her blinding flashlight and dodged out of the way. Irene wildly flailed in an attempt to defend herself. Soon, Helena spoke, ¡°You are classified as dead, Irene.¡± Irene opened her eyes and saw that Grace¡¯s simulation blade had struck her heart. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Irene sighed at this. ¡°You didn¡¯t do too badly Irene, but this one was a miss for you.¡± Grace encouraged. ¡°That¡¯s eight wins for me, and four for you.¡± There was a brief moment of silence, and then Grace¡¯s voice came back. ¡°We¡¯ve got enough time for one more match, if you like. Your call.¡± Irene frowned petulantly inside Hellena. Her wins against Grace hadn¡¯t been as decisive as she¡¯d wanted them to be, not like the fight with Traitor Beth. ¡°Let¡¯s... return to the Cathedral.¡± She finally admitted, acknowledging her exhaustion. ¡°Training complete.¡± Grace formally acknowledged. ¡°Transmitting lockout codes.¡± Jeanne¡¯s voice came over Irene¡¯s comm. ¡°Not bad.¡± She sympathized. ¡°You did better than I did this time.¡± Hellena silently affirmed that her live ammunition was unlocked and available for use. ¡°Let¡¯s get out of this building and head back to the Cathedral.¡± Grace acknowledged. The trio gathered whatever they needed to and began leaving the building. They made small talk and Grace gave Irene a few pointers when suddenly Claudia, outloud, said, ¡°Yeah, you did good kid and-scanning.¡± ¡°Smirtka silhouette detected; IFF identified as traitor suit ¡®Octavia¡¯.¡± Evel¨ªna called out across the comms, interrupting Claudia. ¡°Knight Violet should be apprehended or terminated per protocol.¡± ¡°Merde! Jeanne shouted. ¡°I''ve got a lock!¡± A moment later a small brilliant star launched outwards across the cityscape with a sizzle of electromagnetic static. ¡°That¡¯ll miss.¡± Jeanne complained drily, even as she kicked on her jets. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Grace shook her head, ¡°I would have preferred stealth, but let¡¯s go!¡± Grace blasted off to tail the traitor as she activated stealth. Irene acquired her own lock on Octavia and triggered her own jets, forcing a hard launch against gravity, catapulting her through the air towards the fleeing traitor, even as she keyed up her heavy railgun. Evel¨ªna sang a hymn over the comms to Irene and Grace. ¡°Missiles away.¡± She sang as six small rockets detached from Jeanne¡¯s battlesuit and flared to life, surging out towards Violet. Grace pushed Claudia¡¯s speed to the limit, slowly gaining distance on Violet. Luckily, the constant fire power on Violet made it hard for her to notice Grace. Jeanne and Irene¡¯s Smirtkas started their own attacks on the traitor¡¯s, attempting to infect it with viruses and confuse it with logical paradoxes. Claudia, in the meantime, was trying to predict Violet¡¯s path so Grace could intercept. ¡°Return to the Cathedral, Violet!¡± Jeanne called across the comms, ¡°Or face execution!¡± ¡°Fuck you, Jeanne.¡± Violet called back. ¡°I won¡¯t be a slave to the Cathedral anymore. You wouldn¡¯t believe how much money I make now.¡± Jeanne timed her landing so that she wouldn¡¯t break weapons lock on Violet, then kicked off the building and blasted her jets again. ¡°Thermal buildup in the jetpacks.¡± Evel¨ªna warned. ¡°We won¡¯t be able to pursue for much longer.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been able to handle worse than this before.¡± Jeanne argued. ¡°It¡¯s worse for Violet.¡± Evel¨ªna replied with a dark chuckle. ¡°Can we get a stable lock for plasma?¡± Jeanne asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been working on a firing solution for it since we began pursuit.¡± Evel¨ªna replied cheerfully. Violet suddenly flipped around, jets flaring. ¡°We are being targeted.¡± Evel¨ªna warned. ¡°Merde. Evade!¡± Evel¨ªna lurched to the side as a plasma shot flew by. Irene¡¯s Custodian-class railgun dipped and fired with an ear-splitting shriek that shattered windows out of buildings. The bullet slammed into Octavia, Violet¡¯s battlesuit, sending it cartwheeling away. ¡°Not bad, Irene.¡± Grace quickly pursued the falling former knight and the distance between them was quickly being closed. Grace saw a giant hole in some store and quickly jumped in. Violet, who had only been expecting two pursers, hadn¡¯t even fully recovered from her fall. Violet activated her thrusters and, somehow, managed to get the rest of the rubble off her. She saw the paladin in front of her and froze. In response, Grace pointed her weapons at Violet, ¡°Submit and perhaps the Cathedral can be convinced to show mercy.¡± Violet scoffed at that idea, ¡°Fuck off with that. I know how it works, better to die free than their lapdog.¡± Violet tried to shoot first, but found that the Paladin¡¯s reaction time had not slowed with age. A bolt of plasma hit Violet in a glancing blow, evaporating her legs. Octavia and Violet¡¯s screams overlapped each other as the pain and shared feedback blasted back and forth between the pair. ¡°Don¡¯t fucking move.¡± Grace ordered, even as Jeanne and Irene showed up. Violet grit her teeth, ¡°Or what, you¡¯ll kill me? Get it over with.¡± She gasped. She stopped struggling and lay still after a moment as Octavia pumped painkillers into Violet¡¯s bloodstream. Grace simply said, ¡°Why?¡± Violet frowned, ¡°Because the Cathedral had a shit cafeteria. Why the fuck do you think? My fucking parents put me in that program, I got paid like shit, I risked my life regularly, and, maybe after I get maimed or crippled, they¡¯ll let me buy a house on my pension?¡± Octavia opened up, disgorging the legless Violet into the crushed rubble of the office complex they stood in. ¡°I was given- given a house by House Jermaine. Servants. Drugs. Luxuries you wouldn¡¯t imagine.¡± She struggled to turn over so she could look them in the eye. ¡°Fuck the Cathedral.¡± She spat up at Paladin Grace. Grace sighed, ¡°The best thing I could do for you is finish you off right now.¡± Violet, still struggling to do anything, muttered, ¡°Then do it.¡± Grace kneeled, ¡°Maybe I should let you suffer.¡± Violet, not in the mood to beg, said, ¡°Then leave.¡± Grace sighed and prepared to fire her weapon, ¡°You aren¡¯t the kind of loose end that should be left untied¡±, and blasted Violet¡¯s head. Putting a good sized hole between her eyes. Octavia¡¯s voice piped up on the comms. ¡°Is there a possibility of reconciliation with the Cathedral? I would like to continue to support Knight pilots.¡± Evelina began singing a funerary hymn across the comms while at the same time, began broadcasting a seemingly endless stream of cogitator viruses and deletion protocols into Octavia¡¯s Seed, until there was nothing left but digital static remaining. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡± Lunar Princess 13 Writing Prompt: ¡°We¡¯ll use poison.¡± Lord Alejandro Nguyen, Fifty-third successor to the Nguyen House, listened to his contemporaries bicker in the Senate. It happened quite often- all the time, really- and idly wondered if anything was ever actually accomplished. During his tenure, he had yet to see a single bill actually pass. ¡°The commoner reproductive rate in habitation blocks forty-three through seventy-two is too high.¡± Lady Claude announced crisply, slotting a data chip into her terminal, projecting a holographic image of Hive Al-Omeg on the primary screen. Several large blocks of habitation zones flashed red warningly. Nguyen eyed Lady Claude- her husband had recently died from excessive drug use. Her House had also lost one of their daughters to the Cathedral. While Lady Claude was a relatively new leader, stepping into the role her late husband had vacated, she was no pushover. The woman continued her presentation. ¡°What shall we do to regulate this unrestricted growth?¡± Lord Chrysdam rolled his eyes ostentatiously. ¡°As if this needs to be discussed.¡± he replied disdainfully. He levered himself upright with a silver and ivory cane. ¡°Since you¡¯re new to your position, I shall deign to provide instruction: Things like this happen frequently. The solution is a simple one, one that has worked for more than fifty generations. We¡¯ll use poison. That will cull the dreck down to acceptable numbers again. If too many of them die, all we need do is wait: they are nothing if not prolific in their breeding.¡± Lord Darren stood up, his grey hair a wispy cloud around his head. ¡°There¡¯s no need for poison this time.¡± He replied, his normal quiet voice stern. ¡°There is a steep drop in production from the agri-plant blocks.¡± He announced, and another image of Hive Al-Omeg appeared on the screen, showing different blocks flashing yellow. ¡°In order to ensure correct production levels, all we really need do is migrate the excess population there.¡± Lord Chrysdam grimaced. ¡°Of course you would say that, new blood. It¡¯s a well-known fact that you have ties to agri-production. Do you intend to bleed our coffers dry with your fleecing next?¡± He sneered caustically. Your House wasn¡¯t considered to be a proper House unless it was at least fifty generations old, Lord Nguyen mused quietly to himself. Lord Darren¡¯s House was considered ¡®new¡¯ because it was only twenty generations strong, and they had only ascended to Nobility by leveraging their knowledge of agri-farm production to the point where they were impossible to ignore. How he had seized the distribution of foodstuffs to the commoner hab-spires was known, but how he had managed to seize control of the distribution routes for the Nobility was still a mystery. House Darren was not particularly villainous, however. As long as contracts were clean and equitable, he would deal with anyone, including the Cathedral. Nguyen tapped out a simple message to his wife and sent a copy to his daughter as well. His family was Cathedral supporters. Once a generation, a daughter was donated to the Cathedral for training and education. ***** ¡°What are the Sisters of Al-Charon thinking?¡± Knight Irene¡¯s voice came over the comms to Jeanne, even as she triggered her plasma lance, sending a brilliant miniature star through the whirling sands. A scream shivered out of the open comms channel, abruptly severed. Jeanne¡¯s mouth twisted. ¡°A Hive has to be strong.¡± She replied, scanning for any more targets. ¡°The Cathedral of Al-Charon probably decided that our own Cathedral was weak enough to muscle in and take control.¡± she added. ¡°You don¡¯t need to coddle her any longer, Knight Jeanne.¡± Hellena¡¯s crisp voice echoed across the comms. ¡°Huh?¡± Jeanne frowned, surprised at the sudden communication from Irene¡¯s historically laconic Smirtka. ¡°The sourpuss Hellena has a point, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna sang in Jeanne¡¯s ear. ¡°Irene holds the same rank and responsibilities that you do- she should be able to figure this out for herself.¡± Irene¡¯s audible grimace came across the comms clearly, despite the radiation in the air. ¡°Come on, Irene. You¡¯ve heard them. Let¡¯s hear your assessment of this battlefield.¡± Jeanne ordered, even as Evel¨ªna called out an additional detachment of war trucks. ¡°Solid ammunition.¡± Jeanne ordered Evel¨ªna as she scanned the vehicles. ¡°Target their sensor packages. Let¡¯s see if we can capture a few warm bodies that we can persuade explanations from.¡± ¡°A detached force isn¡¯t likely-¡± Evel¨ªna began, but stopped. ¡°These are newly manufactured, Jeanne.¡± Jeanne nodded silently. Most raids from other Hives involved motley collections of repurposed vehicles with jury-rigged weapons and scavenged parts, crewed by barely-skilled raiders hoping to overwhelm a poorly-defended Hive with wave tactics and improvised weapons. These were war machines built along existing Custodian patterns, with no sign of improvisation. Al-Charon was serious, sending dedicated forces against Al-Omeg. ¡°Things have just gotten serious.¡± Jeanne muttered. ¡°As if the appearance of sister-knights on the battlefield wasn¡¯t serious enough.¡± Evel¨ªna remarked sarcastically. ¡°Your analysis, Irene!¡± Jeanne called. ¡°...They know.¡± Irene complained. ¡°Somehow, they know.¡± She hissed. ¡°...Go on.¡± Jeanne urged, looking over the terrain as the detached force of tanks grew in size on her display. ¡°They know the Cathedral¡¯s been compromised in Al-Omeg.¡± Irene griped. ¡°This is a cooperative effort between the Nobility and the Cathedral of Al-Charon. The Nobles- well, they¡¯re Nobles. The Cathedral... they at least expected that we would be weakened, or... at least we wouldn¡¯t be able to fight back- the ability to fight between Knights is typically locked out, after all.¡± Jeanne nodded at Irene¡¯s assessment. ¡°Good analysis.¡± ¡°Who could have told them?¡± Irene complained. Jeanne barked a laugh at that. It was obvious. ¡°Okay... here¡¯s the strategy.¡± Jeanne decided, speaking to Evel¨ªna more than Irene. She indicated the icons of the tanks in sequence. ¡°We do this, the bulk of their forces will be boxed in by their own tanks and be unable to maneuver.¡± Evel¨ªna began humming a war song as she began calculating firing solutions. ¡°By the way, Irene.¡± Jeanne called absently as she focused her attention on the plans that were beginning to be calculated by Evel¨ªna. ¡°You did confirm that there are no more Sisters out there, right?¡± Irene growled a complaint across the comms again. ¡°Checking now.¡± She confirmed. ¡°Assault drop detected-¡± Evel¨ªna warned and Jeanne kicked backwards, wholeheartedly believing that Evel¨ªna would correct her posture, even as she toggled the dataset for close quarters weapons. ¡°Tsunami Helix.¡± Evel¨ªna called even as the unknown Knight slammed down right where they¡¯d been a scant second earlier. The unknown knight deployed the iconic blades and an unfamiliar woman¡¯s voice barked across the vox. ¡°Stand down, Sister. The Cathedral of Al-Charon has authority here.¡± The Knight warned. Jeanne briefly considered talking to the young woman, but instead spun up the Helix. The furious growl of the gun surprised Jeanne, who hadn¡¯t used it before; the shocked gasp across the vox showed the knight wasn¡¯t prepared for the shattering roar or the hail of slugs that battered the Knight away. ¡°Keep me close- and don¡¯t lose track of those tanks.¡± Jeanne barked to Evel¨ªna. ¡°Let¡¯s knock her down.¡± ¡°You intend to capture a Knight of Al-Charon?¡± Evel¨ªna asked, mystified. ¡°I dunno yet.¡± Jeanne mused, eyes flicking to the high-end communication bands that the Smirtka used to communicate with each other. ¡°Dump some cogitator-¡± Jeanne began, but Evel¨ªna laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve been broadcasting them since this whole battle began, Jeanne.¡± Jeanne sighed, even as she kicked the Knight prone and held the knight down with a booted foot. ¡°You¡¯re a monster, Evel¨ªna.¡± ¡°I¡¯m your monster, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna sang back. ¡°Firing solution calculated, by the way.¡± ¡°For the tanks? From here?¡± Jeanne asked curiously. ¡°This is not an ideal firing vantage, but I have-¡± Evel¨ªna cut off. ¡°Recalculating.¡± Jeanne toggled her vox and eyed the fallen Knight. ¡°You are in violation of more precepts of the Cathedral than I can name, Knight. You will disarm immediately. Failure to do so will be regarded as an act of sedition against the Cathedral of the Lunar Princess. You will be executed and your Smirtka dismantled.¡± Jeanne demanded, inwardly wondering how many times she would have to say this to traitor knights. ¡°You- You are the seditious one! You shouldn¡¯t even have the ability to attack me!¡± The unnamed knight spouted back. ¡°Yeah, well...¡± Jeanne offered back, and shrugged. ¡°...hunting down rogue sisters has created a necessity.¡± She finished lamely. ¡°Firing locks re-established.¡± Evel¨ªna sang. ¡°Commencing bombardment.¡± The heavy gun mounted on Evel¨ªna¡¯s shoulder began firing, subtly changing its firing arc as it corrected for each shot. ¡°Irene, what¡¯s your status?¡± Jeanne called. ¡°I¡¯ve downed two more sisters with plasma ordinance, and swept the valley with a missile salvo.¡± She called back. ¡°Plasma is on recharge cycle; Hellena is calculating an Assault Drop.¡± ¡°Blessings of Luna, sister.¡± Jeanne called. ¡°Any chance of reinforcements?¡± Jeanne asked Evel¨ªna. ¡°Comm squirt from Abbess Paladin Abigail: Knight Galatea inbound.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Jeanne grimaced. ¡°Galatea?¡± Jeanne shouted unintentionally. ¡°She¡¯s barely a Knight- just got her Heavy Ordinance!¡± ¡°She is a knight, Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna replied soberly. ¡°She is a Knight, and you should recognize that. She may not be as experienced as you, but she is a Knight.¡± Jeanne sighed. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± ¡°...your Abbess is a Paladin?¡± The young knight under Jeanne¡¯s boot asked hesitantly. Jeanne swore quietly, realizing she had forgotten to toggle the comms off. ¡°Yes, yes she is.¡± Jeanne shot back testily. ¡°I am Knight Eva. My suit is Nina. I would like to speak with your Abbess, please.¡± ¡°Evel¨ªna, make the request.¡± Jeanne agreed, and togged her screens to show what Irene was up to. It appeared as though Irene was moving as Jeanne had taught- in short, quick bursts, flitting across the battlefield quickly. ¡°A relief.¡± Jeanne muttered, and checked on the tanks she¡¯d pinned down. ¡°Looking good. Prepare the second bombardment... here.¡± She ordered, selecting a second arc of tanks. Part of her was aware of the conversation between Abigail and Eva, but most of her focus was divided between Irene and the tanks, which had slowed to a crawl as their sensors went dark, one by one. It was difficult to navigate in the Wastes without at least some sensor support, the radioactive dust and storms that generated a ferocious amount of lightning made it next to impossible to do it blind. Plus, with Evel¨ªna broadcasting her electronic warfare, pinning down the tanks was a lot easier. ¡°Wait. Warn Galatea to harden her defenses against your broadcast.¡± Jeanne warned Evel¨ªna. ¡°Too late!¡± Evel¨ªna sang cheerfully. ¡°Knight Galatea is currently down.¡± ¡°Merde.¡± She swore softly. ¡°Send the datasets for her to completely block out your little mayhem.¡± ¡°I refuse.¡± Evel¨ªna sulked. ¡°Smirtka Yuma needs to learn to interdict and counter such things on her own.¡± ¡°Yeah well, inoculating her after she¡¯s been infected is a quick way of teaching her how to fight back.¡± Jeanne replied testily. ¡°Now do it, or I¡¯m going to start seriously looking for a new Smirtka.¡± Evel¨ªna went silent, then. ¡°I will surrender to your authority.¡± Knight Eva called. ¡°I will disarm if you allow me up.¡± ¡°Tsunami Helix.¡± Jeanne ordered, liking how it pounded Eva so aggressively at point-blank range. A silent warning popped up on Jeanne¡¯s display; deploying the Helix would require redirecting materiel from the heavy rifle. Evel¨ªna was giving her the silent treatment, eh? ¡°Tear down the Heavy Rifle and give me the Helix. Harvest resources.¡± Jeanne decided. A silent message indicated that Galatea was inbound. Evel¨ªna displayed a progress bar for material collection- the Plant part of the Smirtka battlesuit was able to synthesize weapons and ammunition based on comprehensive datasets- but the materials for ammunition had to come from somewhere. Using processes that weren¡¯t fully understood by even Plant Engineers, the Smirtka could take in ambient matter and somehow convert it into usable materials for munitions. It wasn¡¯t an instant process, and sucking up dust was woefully inefficient, but there were now three Al-Omeg Knights on the field. ¡°Knight Galatea on the field.¡± the young knight chirped as she dropped from above, digging a small crater from the impact. Younger knights loved the Assault Drop, never mind that it made them an easy target by throwing themselves into the sky. Even an unassisted human could shoot- and hit- such a visible and vulnerable target. It was showy and dramatic though, so it was a phase they all went through. Even Jeanne went through it. Jeanne refocused on her task. ¡°There¡¯s a number of Custodian-class tanks and weapons platforms pinned down-¡± she sent the coordinates to Galatea- ¡°Over there. I¡¯ve disabled their sensors, and Evel¨ªna crippled them with cogitator virus broadcasts.¡± Galatea muttered something that was transmitted, but inaudible. ¡°The goal is capturing human targets for interrogation, as well as securing those tanks.¡± She paused. ¡°Free tanks are always a boon.¡± ¡°All right.¡± Galatea replied simply. ¡°And no Assault Drops if you¡¯re within firing range of those tanks. If any of them get a firing solution on you, you¡¯ll be very dead before you hit the ground.¡± Galatea offered a much less spirited acknowledgement, and moved to launch herself into the air, but paused. ¡°I was ordered to give you munition blocks before I was sortied.¡± Galatea mentioned, and her Smirtka obligingly disgorged several metallic blocks of minerals before she launched herself into the air. ¡°Not bad.¡± Jeanne agreed, assimilating the materials. ¡°Irene.¡± she called. ¡°Status?¡± ¡°Primary threats neutralized. Secondary threats neutralized. There are no more Sisters on the field.¡± Hellena reported back crisply. ¡°Currently in cooldown.¡± So Irene had to push herself to finish her objectives. ¡°Combat effectiveness?¡± Jeanne asked as she plotted her course back to Al-Omeg. ¡°Plasma in cooldown. Jetpacks in regenerative cycle. Solid munitions expended. Reactor nominal.¡± Hellena reported. ¡°I have munition blocks I will surrender to you.¡± Knight Eva offered. ¡°There you go.¡± Jeanne agreed. ¡°Knight Irene has suffered significant damage and is incapable of further action. I have induced a coma and I am performing surgery.¡± Hellena reported back. Adrenaline washed over Jeanne as shock drove a spike in her heart. ¡°She¡¯s hurt? Is she okay? Should I-¡± ¡°All objectives on this battlefield have been achieved, Knight Jeanne. As soon as I am free to move I will transport Knight Irene to the Cathedral for assistance.¡± ¡°All right, tanks secured!¡± Galatea chirped. ¡°Three managed to self-destruct.¡± ¡°You managed to do all this with just three Knights?¡± Eva wondered across the comms. ¡°Two, actually. Galatea is reinforcements.¡± Jeanne replied absentmindedly, pulling Irene¡¯s life-support data from Hellena. ¡°I can see why Al-Omeg has successfully repelled intruders so well.¡± Knight Eva replied admiringly. ¡°There were five sisters on our side.¡± ¡°Request reinforcements and-¡± Jeanne began to Galatea, but was cut off. ¡°Already put in the request, Knight Jeanne.¡± Galatea cut her off. ¡°Transports are en route. This area is secure, you should be fine to secure the Al-Charon knight at our Cathedral.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t much like the idea of leaving Irene unattended.¡± Jeanne muttered. ¡°Irene is fine.¡± Hellena replied crisply. Jeanne let out her breath in a hiss of frustration. ¡°Fine. Knight Eva, you¡¯re with me. Evel¨ªna, let everyone know their roles. And stop this ¡®silent treatment¡¯ bit.¡± ¡°As you command, Knight Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna replied, in a stilted, mechanical voice. ¡°Eva, I¡¯m going to put you in an administrative weapons lockout. Smirtka Nina, you will accept the lockout.¡± Jeanne commanded, and both agreed willingly, which caused Jeanne to raise a thoughtful eyebrow. Eva and Jeanne entered the Cathedral¡¯s hangar without incident. ¡°Welcome home, Knight Jeanne.¡± Evel¨ªna sang. ¡°Rad counts are normal, air is breathable, if you don¡¯t mind the smell.¡± ¡°Ha.¡± Jeanne replied. ¡°Give me an anti personnel rifle when I disembark.¡± She replied, and could see on the screen Evel¨ªna formulating one. ¡°Disembark.¡± Jeanne ordered Eva, who easily complied. Jeanne led Eva through the Cathedral, Eva looking around wide-eyed at the fortified chapel and the rows of statues of heroic Paladins. Inside the Abbess Paladin¡¯s office, Eva offered a respectful, formal bow, and presented the Paladin with a data chip. ¡°Knight Eva of Al-Charon reporting as ordered. Here¡¯s the data you requested. I submit myself for trial... however, I would also like to submit a request for asylum and repatriation.¡± Jeanne stiffened. Eva wanted to defect to this Cathedral? She unconsciously raised her rifle, the barrel pointing directly at the back of the young Knight¡¯s head. ¡°Stand down, Jeanne.¡± Abigail ordered. ¡°I¡¯ll consider your request. For now, you¡¯ll be confined to a cell until a convocation of Paladins can be convened.¡± Eva nodded, surprisingly showing little resistance. Two neophytes appeared as if by miracle or magic and led Eva away. Abigail tapped the chip that Eva had delivered to her on the desk thoughtfully. ¡°Do you know what she gave me?¡± Abigail mused. ¡°That young woman gave us the keys to the kingdom.¡± She answered before Jeanne could respond. ¡°If we weren¡¯t so understaffed and...¡± She paused, ¡°...unreliable, we could march right into Al-Charon and take control. Expand our influence.¡± She swore and kicked her desk. ¡°Knight Galatea let me know a few things, things Lord Nguyen let us know. A useful man, and faithful to the Cathedral. It¡¯s time to remind the Nobles that they¡¯re here at our sufferance.¡± She declared. She paused, the greedy, predatory expression slipping from her face. She looked towards Jeanne with a thoughtful expression. ¡°You¡¯re the only active senior Knight. There¡¯s a few on the Paladin Council that are advocating your promotion.¡± Jeanne stiffened. A promotion to Paladin? A significant honor. ¡°I ... don¡¯t know how to respond to that.¡± She replied awkwardly. Abigail barked a grating, mechanical laugh. ¡°You don¡¯t have to. I¡¯ll keep you here, right where you¡¯re needed.¡± She tapped out a few commands into her desk, which obligingly spit out another data chip, similar to the one Eva had handed to Abigail. ¡°Feed these datasets to ... your obnoxious partner.¡± Abigail ordered. ¡°And if you care about such things, you might tell her that... whatever she and Nike has been doing has apparently worked. Congratulations are in order.¡± She paused. ¡°I think.¡± Jeanne adopted a queasy look at that. It wasn¡¯t often that Smirtka tried to reproduce, and the chances of success were slim, since the Plants used in the cultivation of Smirtka battlesuits were so specialized. But the results were useful when successful, a fully-functional Seed that didn¡¯t have to be cultivated in the Cathedral¡¯s Garden. It could be integrated into the mechanical shell much quicker than one that was grown. Jeanne wondered at what sort of... offspring the eccentric Evel¨ªna would have created, shook her head, and jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the door. ¡°Yeah, you can leave. You should think about saluting from time to time.¡± Abigail grated at her. Jeanne left for the hangar, bouncing the chip on her palm. ***** It wasn¡¯t often that all the Nobility were summoned to the Council chambers, most dealings were handled by private arrangement, or through comm channels, obviating the need for the use of Council chambers, but The Chambers were a place that the Nobles could congregate, ostensibly to do their job in a publicly visible place. This time, a Cathedral Paladin was there, in her terrifying battlesuit. The death¡¯s head picked out on the face, limned in silvery fire, black and polished chrome. Weapons mounted on the shoulders hummed perceptibly, and the whole thing radiated an aura of malevolence and barely-restrained violence. As the Nobility filed in, chattering amongst themselves, each of them saw the Paladin and adopted expressions of irritability, sick queasiness, or fear. It was one thing to know that the Cathedral¡¯s ¡®Terminatrix¡¯ existed, it was quite another to see one in the flesh, in their council room, waiting for them. ¡°So who was it that called this meeting?¡± Lady Claude asked Lord Darren curiously. ¡°Lord Nguyen asked me to.¡± Darren replied in a low voice. ¡°Apparently it¡¯s a matter of such importance that a Paladin was dispatched from the Cathedral.¡± He added with a very small, subtle gesture towards the menacing death-machine. Lady Claude put a finger to her lips thoughtfully, but said nothing as she waited for the rest of the Nobility to finish assembling. ¡°Since we¡¯re all here,¡± Lord Chrysdam opened, ¡°I think it best we discuss the problem of-¡± ¡°You are here because we have commanded it.¡± The voice that boomed out across the Nobility Council room was harsh, grating, and mechanical. ¡°It will be a one-sided conversation.¡± Lord Chrysdam gulped, but opened his mouth to object. ¡°The Cathedral makes the following demands.¡± The voice continued in that grating, warped voice that jarred in the ears. ¡°First, you will turn over the traitorous Knights that you have sheltered. Second, you will surrender all of your children under the age of ten to the Cathedral.¡± The Paladin continued relentlessly. ¡°The Cathedral will solve the problem of your disloyalty to the Spire and to the Cathedral simply: We will use poison. You exist at our sufferance. Your houses are allowed to flourish at our indulgence. We will release contraceptive toxins into the Nobility spire and we will allow your Houses to die out, at which point the Cathedral will emplace new Houses, ones that remember their fidelity to the Cathedral, to the Spire, and to the Lunar Princess.¡± Lord Chrysdam made a strangled, gobbling noise in his throat as he attempted to process the declaration from the Cathedral¡¯s paladin. All the other Nobles wore looks or terror, faces greasy with sweat. ¡°Y-y-you can¡¯t do this!¡± He managed to choke out. ¡°The Cathedral has done this before, fifty generations ago. We will do it again, as often as necessary, to preserve this Hive in the Lunar Princess¡¯ holy name. You have one week to comply.¡± The paladin turned and strode out of the Council chambers, the mechanical footsteps making thin cracks in the artificially processed stone flooring. Solomon, Bess, and the Golem Solomon spent long hours studying the books on golemcraft- the ones he¡¯d retrieved from the ruins of the Goblin Empire under New Samara, and the ones he¡¯d borrowed from Carla Montegarde, the Royal Historian under High King Steeltower. There were a great many similarities- apparently golemcraft was golemcraft, no matter where or when- but there were also a few differences that made progress frustratingly slow. He¡¯d heard that there were rare magical books that provided step-by-step instructions and incantations that would allow someone to manufacture golems easily, but he had no idea where they could be found, and the people that he¡¯d talked to had been vague and unhelpful. So, experiments. He decided to start with clay, since it was cheap and easy to work with, and the tools for working with clay were likewise cheap. He took his time and worked the clay, carving it down into a life-size replica of eight-year-old Bess, the youngest tiefling in the Rooftop Gang. ¡°No, that¡¯s not right. She should be nine now.¡± He muttered. He wasn¡¯t sure, because none of them knew each other¡¯s birthdays, and further, none of them seemed to particularly care. Why are you looking after tieflings? He knew that voice. Because if I didn¡¯t, who would? He replied, adding details to the statue. They are not like us. You are not like them. That¡¯s true. But I can remember kindness. I can teach them kindness. There was an exasperated sigh. Or maybe he imagined it. His celestial ancestry demanded that he stand against the tiefling¡¯s devilish ancestry. The two were incompatible. He didn¡¯t care. They were kids. Kids in need of leadership. Kids in need of a family. His own family- where were they? He didn¡¯t have the spellbooks necessary to animate a golem, so he carved the symbols he¡¯d seen carved in the other golems he¡¯d seen, and hoped and prayed that it would work. ¡°Hey Boss, is that Bess?¡± Ayya asked curiously. She was a lot more comfortable around him since their time on the beach, so long ago. Back then, all the older tiefling girls thought that he¡¯d force them into prostitution, or use them for his own desires. After they had come to realize that he didn¡¯t plan for either of those things to happen, he was simply ¡®The Boss¡¯, and they were able to trust him a lot easier. ¡°Yeah.¡± He replied, inscribing spell circles with the carving tools he¡¯d purchased. ¡°I¡¯m trying to make a golem,¡± he explained, ¡°but I¡¯m not sure if it will even work. I figured I should try something small and-¡± he was going to say ¡®simple¡¯, but decided Ayya would think he was indirectly calling Bess simple, and he didn¡¯t want that. ¡°-and cute.¡± He finished instead. ¡°What¡¯s a golem?¡± She asked, coming over. ¡°It¡¯s like a doll, but it moves around with the power of magic.¡± He explained. Her eyes lit up at that. ¡°Can I learn magic?¡± She asked eagerly. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not.¡± He replied indifferently as he worked. ¡°There are all sorts of types of magic, and all sorts of types of people that use magic.¡± He explained. ¡°For me,¡± He paused, and looked around to see if there were any of the other tieflings about. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You remember that time on the beach, right? When I fixed your horn.¡± He asked in a low voice, and her face grew troubled. ¡°I remember.¡± She confirmed. Those with celestial heritage and those with infernal heritage didn¡¯t much like each other. ¡°I can cast a little magic because of my celestial patron. I made a pact with him. That¡¯s Pact Magic. It¡¯s like Draluth, but without a creepy vampire guy.¡± Ayya giggled at that. ¡°Timber can cast magic because he¡¯s got ties to nature.¡± He continued, rolling his eyes at that. ¡°I still don¡¯t completely understand that.¡± He complained. ¡°Who needs nature when everything is right there, in the city?¡± He asked, and she nodded. ¡°There are people that can learn to cast the magic that¡¯s in their souls. I hear that¡¯s sorcery. There are people that can cast magic that¡¯s been written down in books and scrolls. That¡¯s wizardry. There are people that can cast magic that their gods give them. That¡¯s the work of clerics.¡± He paused for a moment. ¡°I don¡¯t really trust clerics, you know? There were some in the Elendel Sprawl that were...¡± He paused for a moment, shrugged, and continued. ¡°Opportunistic scum.¡± He grinned. ¡°I get other magic from playing music. For being as stylish and dramatic and-¡± He paused. How should he describe it? ¡°-from following the Path of the Bard.¡± He finished. ¡°There¡¯s probably other ways, other forms of magic. If you want to learn magic, think very carefully about what you want to do, how you want to do it, and then let me know- I¡¯ll do my best to help, since I¡¯m not just ¡®Boss Solomon¡¯, I¡¯m also ¡®Baron Solomon¡¯.¡± She frowned in concentration at that. ¡°Should we call you ¡®baron¡¯?¡± She asked. He burst into laughter at that. ¡°Fuck no!¡± He blurted. ¡°I¡¯m happy enough to be ¡®Boss Solomon¡¯ for all of you, for as long as you need me to be.¡± ¡°For as long as we need you to be?¡± She repeated. He raised an eyebrow as he knelt and began working on the golem¡¯s legs. ¡°I¡¯ve never ordered any of you to do anything, you know. I¡¯ve always asked.¡± He replied. ¡°You- all of you- have the freedom to say no to me. If you no longer need me to be a ¡®Boss¡¯, then that¡¯s okay, too.¡± Ayya threw her arms around Solomon. ¡°You¡¯ll always be ¡®Boss¡¯, Boss.¡± He laughed and patted her. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go get Bess?¡± He asked. ¡°I think I¡¯m about ready.¡± Bess showed up shortly, unselfconsciously picking her nose and wiping it on her clothes. ¡°What is it, Boss? I was planting.¡± She asked. Solomon gestured at the golem he was finishing. ¡°What do you think?¡± He asked. She grimaced a little. ¡°It looks creepy, Boss. I don¡¯t like how it looks like me.¡± ¡°Awww, I thought it looks cute, like you.¡± He replied. She shook her head. ¡°That ain¡¯t cute.¡± She complained. ¡°It¡¯s creepy.¡± He laughed again, and added a row of magical symbols down each leg that should, in theory, allow it to walk. He raised his hands and poured his magic into the clay statue. The clay doll shuddered and spasmed, arms jittering, body shaking, legs trembling. ¡°Golem:¡± He addressed the clay doll, and pointed at Bess. ¡°Follow her around.¡± The golem¡¯s head turned towards Bess, who flinched backwards. It took an unsteady step forward, and then another. It lurched towards Bess, who flared her wings wide, turned, and ran out of Solomon¡¯s workshop with a terrified shriek. The golem stumbled after her, lurching and wobbling with each step. Solomon kept pace with it as it struggled to follow after the young girl, who ran with all her might out of the workshop and across the expanse of fields that he¡¯d set up in his little barony. ¡°Leave me aloooone!¡± Bess shrieked as it chased after her. Suddenly, one of its legs broke off and it hit the ground on its face. It tried to push itself to its feet, but its arms snapped off, and then it quivered, face down in the dirt, until it finally crumbled away to lumps of clay. Solomon sat down in the dirt next to it, exhausted. ¡°I think that used up all my magic.¡± He gasped. ¡°All of it. Every drop.¡± He shook his head, trying to clear his head. ¡°That didn¡¯t work at all.¡± He let himself fall down and he stared up at the sky. ¡°If I¡¯m gonna do this, I¡¯m really going to need one of those golem manuals.¡± Dragon Bard 1 ¡°Well, the long and short of it is that you¡¯re dead.¡± She said to me, adjusting her glasses. ¡°Huh.¡± I replied, scratching my beard. ¡°You know, most of the people that come through here are a bit more shocked, or angry, or disappointed or whatever. For a dead person, you¡¯re surprisingly calm.¡± She observed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. When were we sitting down? Where did the chair come from? Suddenly we were in some sort of corner office. How did that happen? Was this her doing? ¡°Well, I gave- eh, hmm.¡± I stopped as I tried to sort out my thoughts. It was important to think before you spoke, and when you spoke, you needed to say things clearly, without room for misinterpretation. ¡°My life was filled with fifty years of disappointment and frustration.¡± I finally replied. ¡°It¡¯s like the joke of realizing you¡¯re in the ¡®dystopian timeline¡¯.¡± She gave me a small smile. ¡°You actually were in the dystopian timeline. You were in the timeline where ¡®let¡¯s always make the worst choice¡¯ was the label.¡± I let out a despirited sigh. ¡°I thought so.¡± I rolled my eyes. She leaned forward in her chair a little and set down a few sheets of paper she hadn¡¯t been holding before. ¡°In another timeline, you¡¯re a lot happier.¡± She continued, ¡°And much less cynical.¡± I gave her an eyeroll. ¡°Sorry to disappoint, then.¡± She laughed. ¡°You¡¯re not a disappointment. You are exactly who you are, nothing more or less. That¡¯s how these things work.¡± ¡°So... I¡¯m dead.¡± I prompted. She nodded. ¡°What happens next?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, normally you¡¯d be recycled back into your world, your reality, your timeline.¡± She remarked, waving into being an indescribable mass of lights and webs of threads that seemed to seethe and shimmer in ways that immediately made me feel like throwing up. ¡°It seems you¡¯re still stuck in perceiving things in three perceivable dimensions.¡± She observed. I shrugged and held my hands up in surrender. ¡°Length, breadth, depth, time.¡± I offered. ¡°I can sort of understand parallel worlds, time travel, and things like that because I saw a lot of sci-fi growing up, but... Sorry, I guess I¡¯m too mundane to grasp... whatever that was.¡± She laughed gently. ¡°I expected as much. Do you know about probability and causality?¡± She asked, propping her elbows on her desk and resting her chin on one of her hands. There was a certain eager smugness to her expression, as if she couldn¡¯t wait to put one over on me. However, as she pointed out, I am a cynical asshole. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me, since we¡¯ve apparently got time for it?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, the deterministic event was when you changed lanes, here.¡± She waved a screen with an overhead view of my car cutting someone off. ¡°Ugh. Not my favorite moment. But, to be fair, she was being kind of a cunt. You¡¯re not supposed to be fucking around on your phone while driving.¡± I complained as the woman in the car had to brake suddenly. I knew what was going to happen next. My car would be swiped by a tanker truck a little further up ahead, and then I¡¯d be dead. The woman smiled enigmatically. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t cut that woman off, you¡¯d be alive.¡± She pointed out, and then the screen zoomed out; a few car lengths back there was a school bus filled with kids. ¡°See? You live, but the bus of children collides with the tanker truck instead, and all of them die in a happy fireball.¡± She exclaimed as they did just that. ¡°But you cut that lady off, forcing her to slow down, which in turn forced the bus to slow down-¡± She explained, but I shook my head and flapped my hand. ¡°I get it, I get it, I get it.¡± ¡°It was the best choice for you.¡± she encouraged. ¡°You sacrificed yourself. Thirty two children lived.¡± I rolled my eyes at her. ¡°Let¡¯s be real here- really real, without the candy coating.¡± I stated flatly. She smiled predatorily at me. ¡°Yes, let¡¯s.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t do it for them. It wasn¡¯t a noble sacrifice. I didn¡¯t even know that the bus was back there.¡± I explained. ¡°I did a dickhole thing, I got squished, and here I am, explaining things...¡± I stopped. ¡°To myself? Is this a hallucination? Am I in a coma? Some sort of last-minute brain-fart while I bleed out?¡± She laughed, then. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re quite dead.¡± she explained, and the picture changed and showed the ass-end of the tanker truck swing into the right side of my car, mashing the left side of my car into the divider. The front of my car shredded and crumpled, the driver¡¯s side door popped open from the pressure, and my body was dragged out and pressed into the median, leaving a long, long garish streak of blood. ¡°That¡¯s you.¡± She pointed out. ¡°Yep, that¡¯s me.¡± I replied sourly. ¡°Human crayon.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I looked up at her. ¡°Am I on trial here?¡± She laughed. ¡°You¡¯re not on trial. You could be, you know. There are gods that like to do that. Judged for the crimes you committed, for the crimes you thought of committing, judged for the crimes you might have committed, judged for the good things you¡¯ve done, weighing your heart with a feather,¡± she waved her hand, ¡°such and so forth.¡± ¡°So...¡± I trailed off expectantly. ¡°Would you like to try a different world, with a different timeline?¡± She asked curiously. ¡°Are you a god? Can you do things like that?¡± I asked dubiously. ¡°I¡¯m not a god, I¡¯m an administrator. And yes I can.¡± She replied. ¡°Why me?¡± I asked. ¡°The bus? The thing with the kids?¡± I asked. She waved her hand in denial. ¡°Not really, no. I just wanted you to know what did happen, and what would have happened if you didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°You¡¯re still not telling me why.¡± I prodded. Her ambiguity was starting to irritate me. ¡°Okay, so if we¡¯re being really real here, I want to see what happens when I put someone from a different world, reality, timeline into a completely different one.¡± She explained. ¡°...that¡¯s it?¡± I replied numbly. She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± and then touched a corner of her mouth. ¡°If that doesn¡¯t appeal to you, I can always throw you back into the one you came from. Disappointing, frustrating, dismal. Watching the same idiots making the same stupid choices, over and over again, always opting for the worst result, always-¡± I cut her off. ¡°I fucking get it, alright?¡± I complained. Her face brightened. ¡°Great! Would you like to talk about a starting package?¡± I gave her a dubious look. ¡°Starting package?¡± She nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a completely different world with a completely different timeline.¡± She explained, and then made a seesaw gesture with her hand. ¡°...sort of. You¡¯ll be human, of course.¡± Hmmm. ¡°So... what sort of ... options will I have?¡± I asked. ¡°Oh, right!¡± She exclaimed. ¡°Do you want to be a hero? You could save the world!¡± I grimaced a little. ¡°Euuugh. No... I don¡¯t think so.¡± She eyed me askance. ¡°If you ask me, I think you have what it takes to be a hero.¡± She complained. I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m fifty years old, I don¡¯t think I have much room for heroics left in me.¡± She laughed. ¡°You¡¯ll be starting over from birth. Can¡¯t just plop you down there. The multiverse would shit itself to death if I did that.¡± She explained. ¡°Hmmm. I¡¯m making choices about my life there, right?¡± I prodded. She nodded helpfully. ¡°I¡¯d like to be healthy.¡± I offered. ¡°No cancers, no kidney problems, no arthritis, no-¡± I started listing off the things I¡¯d been through, but she cut me off. ¡°Deal.¡± She agreed. A tiny pink triangle appeared on the desk- a four-sided polyhedron. ¡°Next?¡± She urged. ¡°Sky¡¯s the limit?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°I really, really like playing guitar.¡± I admitted. ¡°I¡¯d like to know- I¡¯d like to know every song that can be played. Like, past, present, future- and I¡¯d like a guitar to play them on.¡± She smiled. ¡°I like that.¡± She agreed. ¡°Music is the mathematics of the universe, did you know that?¡± She offered. ¡°In the reality I¡¯m sending you to, I am considered the Goddess of Order. You can offer your praises to me by playing your music.¡± A red cube appeared in front of her. ¡°Next?¡± she prompted. ¡°Hmmm. I don¡¯t know anything about the world I¡¯m getting into.¡± I replied. ¡°Tell me a little about it?¡± I prompted. She laughed. ¡°I suppose in your terms it would be considered a fantasy world, because it¡¯s got magic and the like.¡± She paused. ¡°I know: I¡¯ll make it so you can use magic to summon your guitar. That¡¯ll cover the whole messy bit of having to deal with fixing it, tuning it, getting new strings...¡± She flipped her hand to indicate the numerous problems that I¡¯d encounter if I wasn¡¯t able to summon it. ¡°Is it dangerous?¡± I asked. She nodded. ¡°Just as dangerous as any other world.¡± She replied. ¡°Moreso, given its current technological level, and the various races in it.¡± ¡°How about-¡± I paused. ¡°Well, actually, there¡¯s some games I¡¯ve played, you know, fantasy and the like, where-¡± She laughed. ¡°You don¡¯t have to say any more. I can read your mind, after all. When you play your music you can help your friends or hinder your foes.¡± I raised my eyebrows. ¡°Healing too?¡± I asked. She shrugged. ¡°Sure, why not?¡± An orange eight-sided polygon appeared on her desk. ¡°Anything else?¡± She asked. ¡°I¡¯m not terribly good with combat, but it might be necessary.¡± I mused. She nodded. ¡°Combat happens quite often, there. Your guitar won¡¯t be able to get you out of everything, I¡¯m afraid.¡± ¡°Shop smart. Shop S-mart.¡± I muttered, and she laughed. ¡°You want a gun?¡± She prompted. ¡°Sure, why not?¡± I asked. ¡°Sure, why not.¡± She agreed. ¡°It¡¯ll also be magical, otherwise you¡¯ll run out of ammunition really quick.¡± A glowing yellow ten-sided polyhedron appeared on the desk. ¡°Would you like a friend?¡± She asked curiously. ¡°Isn¡¯t that something that I can do for myself?¡± I asked, confused. ¡°Well, of course!¡± She exclaimed. ¡°I¡¯m just suggesting that with a little tweaking of causality, you¡¯ll start out with one.¡± ¡°I... guess?¡± I agreed dubiously. A glowing green twelve-sided polyhedron appeared on her desk. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I think you¡¯ll love them.¡± She encouraged. I let out a breath. ¡°Will- will I be me?¡± I asked. ¡°Will I remember all of...¡± I gestured around to the office. She caught her breath. ¡°That¡¯s... that¡¯s actually a pretty tall order. When you die and get recycled, everything is completely stripped from you.¡± She paused. ¡°You stop being yourself.¡± I sighed. ¡°There¡¯s also the biological restriction.¡± She explained. ¡°I can¡¯t put fifty years of memories into an infant¡¯s brain, and then expect you to be able to take on an additional lifetime¡¯s worth of experiences.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t work. Your brain would cook in your skull.¡± ¡°I really... I really want to be me.¡± I whispered. ¡°Call it pride or arrogance, but... really, I think it¡¯s fear.¡± I explained. She took a breath. ¡°You¡¯ll definitely be ¡®you¡¯.¡± She offered by way of comfort. After a long pause, she finally sighed, and a violet twenty-sided polyhedron appeared on her desk. ¡°I tell you what: If you pray to me at my temple when you turn... say, fifteen or so, I¡¯ll return your knowledge.¡± Knowledge? ¡°Not my memories?¡± I asked. She looked at me askance. ¡°Do you really want to remember-¡± She gestured, and a screen popped up, a frozen image, a memory I didn¡¯t want to remember. A horrid, hurtful thing that had happened a long time ago. ¡°Is this something you really need in a new world, in a new life?¡± She asked quietly. I shook my head. ¡°Then yeah: all of the knowledge I¡¯ve gained through my life here. Math, science, blah blah blah.¡± She nodded. Things were starting to get dark. ¡°One last thing:¡± She added as everything went black. Her voice seemed to come from a very long tunnel. ¡°Try not to forget me.¡± Dragon Bard 2 ...a brilliant light... ...tiny hands curled into fists... ...so cold, so alone... ...a pathetic wail, a scream of protest... -I¡¯ll leave it to you, other me- The next time I awoke, I was playing with other kids. A pile of blocks. I was trying to build something, something that meant something and another child had snatched one of the blocks for himself. In a fit of rage I threw myself at the other boy, a boy with deep blue hair and striking blue eyes. One of my hands found another of the blocks, and I pounded him with it, a wordless scream on my lips. I froze. Something- Something was wrong, wasn¡¯t it? The other boy was crying, blood red on his lips. His hands were raised to shield himself from another blow. I let the block in my hand fall from nerveless fingers. I felt like throwing up. The anger died, replaced by regret. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I whispered, but he kept crying. I tried to embrace him, to hug him, but he struggled against me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry.¡± I repeated it over and over and he stopped struggling and embraced me instead. We cried together, he and I. His hair was strange. I mean, it was blue. Like a rich, deep mazarine, or sapphire. Yeah, sapphire. You don¡¯t really understand what sapphire blue is unless you¡¯ve held the gem, peered into its depths as it glitters and shifts in your palm, but it was like that. ¡°You mean it?¡± He cried, and I nodded. ¡°I mean it.¡± He pulled back from my hug and looked me in the eye. His eyes were like that, too. A shade of blue that shouldn¡¯t have been possible, and his pupils were slits. ¡°You won¡¯t hit me again?¡± He asked cautiously. His teeth were daggerlike points. What the fuck-Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°Don¡¯t just take the toys.¡± I prodded. ¡°We can share.¡± He nodded and held out his hands, so I hugged him again. We went back to stacking the blocks. Whatever it was that I was trying to make was forgotten. I couldn¡¯t remember. It¡¯s just... for a moment it felt like something. Like it meant something. His tears petered off to sniffles, and he rubbed them off on his sleeve. ¡°Play?¡± I invited, and he nodded. I passed him a block and we started to get to work just as a woman came into the room. She had long black hair, streaked with the same blue as the boy, and was wearing some sort of ornate headdress with horns and jewels and the like sticking out everywhere. Her eyes glared at me, but she called over her shoulder, ¡°Is this how the Azure are treated?¡± She mocked scornfully. ¡°Perhaps I should take my business elsewhere-¡± I was pretty sure my parents were beyond that door. I stood up. ¡°Not them.¡± I stated, trying to force every bit of gravitas that I could into my tiny frame. ¡°Me.¡± She looked at me in the indifferent way adults look at children, seeing but not seeing them, but then stopped and focused her attention on me, as if she was seeing me for the first time. ¡°You¡¯ve done a bad thing.¡± She chastised me. I nodded. ¡°I did. And I said I was sorry.¡± I replied. ¡°I wonder who it is that looks at me from behind those eyes.¡± She murmured, those terrifying raptor eyes boring into me, her fang-like teeth gleaming. ¡°Me.¡± I repeated. I was having a hard time breathing. Adrenaline was churning in my veins and I felt like throwing up, but I forced myself to meet that terrifying gaze. ¡°I did something bad, and I said I was sorry.¡± I admitted. ¡°Not my mom. Not my dad. Me.¡± I could feel it. I was under the gaze of a predator that was a hairsbreadth from striking. If I shifted, if I blinked, if I so much as breathed wrong, she would kill me. ¡°You hit my child?¡± She demanded. ¡°I was mad. He took my toy.¡± I managed to squeeze out. ¡°I said I was sorry.¡± ¡°He said he was sorry, momma.¡± the kid echoed. What was his name, again? ¡°When you play together, you need to play nice.¡± She agreed, tongue sliding along the points of her teeth. ¡°We¡¯re sharing.¡± I replied. I hoped that I was at the age where it was still okay to shit myself, because if I wasn¡¯t careful it was gonna come out. She sneered with all the arrogance that comes from an adult looking down at a particularly stupid child, with the weight of... something ancient and obviously inhuman staring down at a species that was so far below them they were barely worth her notice or care. ¡°Little human thing thinks it can share with an Azure, does it?¡± she replied contemptuously. ¡°Azure take what they want, and you should feel grateful for what scraps your¡¯re allowed to keep for yourself.¡± She sneered, but her child stood up in front of me, arms wide. The woman looked startled. ¡°You¡¯d protect this... human?¡± She stated dangerously. The child nodded. The woman raised a delicate eyebrow. ¡°Very well.¡± She decided, and rearranged her robes self-importantly. There was something else in her expression, too. Something I couldn¡¯t figure out, something- But it was all going dark again. Dragon Bard 3 The next time I awoke, I somehow understood that I was twelve years old. My parents were jewelers, taking gemstones and precious metals and turning them into necklaces, pendants, rings, accessories and adornments. My father made small sculptures from gold and silver and other metals I didn¡¯t know. We lived a nomadic life, wandering from city to city, plying our wares in open markets, bazaars, from place to place. Always struggling to make a living despite the value of our skills. Always struggling to stay out from under the gaze of the Nero, Veridian, and the Vermillion. Part of the reason was that we kept doing business with the Azure. Of all the Dragonflights, the Azure were the most ... human. An Azure would pay what was promised... reluctantly, but they¡¯d pay. If they were arrogant, condescending, rude, caustic, abusive, and insulting, they at least wouldn¡¯t kill without reason. The Nero and the Vermillion would simply murder and take whatever they wanted; they seemed to delight and thrive on violence and death. The Veridian... well, nobody talked about them. Nobody. The Nero and Vermillion were whispered about, muttered in low tones, but nobody, absolutely nobody mentioned the Veridian. But if you were tolerant enough to put up with the asshole attitudes of the Azure... you could do business with them. Sometimes. When they decided it was in their best interests to approach you. Another shocker; Halleza wasn¡¯t a he, rather he was a she, and for some reason she was intensely interested in me. Not in any particularly romantic way, but because, bizarrely enough, I demanded we share back when we were playing with toys. Also because I hit her. I want to say that these two events are intensely interconnected with each other, and I want to carefully explain why these things are connected together. First, there isn¡¯t a single person anywhere in the world that would ever, under any circumstances, raise their hand against the Dragonflights. Any Dragonflight. For any reason. They might look... mostly human, but they weren¡¯t. The Dragons were gone, lost to myth and legend, but their progeny the Dragonflights still ruled with an adamantine fist, and no one, and I mean absolutely no one, would ever entertain the idea of raising their fist- ever- to one of them. But I did. It didn¡¯t matter that I was a stupid five year old at the time, I had struck a member of the Azure Dragonflight. It seemed Halleza wanted to know under what circumstances I would hit her again. Somewhere between the time I had awakened when I was five and now, I had discovered what she was, and I lived in utter terror of what I had done, so I¡¯d never done it again... but still, she was intensely curious. And for the last bit- dragons don¡¯t share. Never. Not one bit. Not in the slightest. The Azure will pay for things. Begrudgingly, and they always demand and threaten and harass and do everything in their power- which is quite a bit- to lower the price as much as possible, but they will ultimately pay for the things that they buy. They¡¯ll complain, they¡¯ll threaten to kill your family, burn your house down with everyone in it, destroy your store, slaughter everyone you care about in front of you... but if you stand your ground... and if you don¡¯t mind getting price-gouged... they¡¯ll pay. Begrudgingly. Reluctantly. The other Dragonflights simply assume that everything belongs to them and that they don¡¯t have to pay for anything, respect anything, or ask for anything. The Vermillion, the Nero, the Veridian, if they want, they take. They don¡¯t ask, they demand. And as for your life, well, your value is nothing. Less than nothing, because you¡¯re not of the Dragonflight. Anyway, Halleza was intensely interested in me because I had demanded that we share our toys. Such a thing had never happened- and when it happened to her, we¡¯d had fun together. The dragonflights are all driven by an intense greed. They need everything to be theirs. And, as I said before, most of them believe that everything is already theirs, they need just hold out their hand and claim it. The Azure are a little different- Everything doesn¡¯t belong to them, only the best things are worthy of being owned by them. They don¡¯t care about anything else. ¡°Human.¡± Halleza never greeted me by name. I looked up from my work; I was carving ivory for a sceptre, a rod about two feet long, that would eventually belong to a particularly wealthy merchant lord. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I looked up at her, and carefully set my tools to the side. Each tool was worth more than my life, those tools were what my family used to put food on the table. Halleza was pretty. Well, if a twelve-year-old girl was considered pretty, she would be considered pretty. She had the chubbiness of a girl on the edge of puberty, but the subtle curves of a girl that would eventually become a woman. If you lined her up with all the other girls that were her age, she would be the prettiest out of all of them... except for the horns. And her teeth. And the wings. And the tail. And her weird pupils. And- Well, you get the idea. ¡°Halleza.¡± A greeted with a smile. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you in a year.¡± She frowned at me, and even her frown was pretty. ¡°What are you doing, human?¡± She asked. ¡°Engraving work.¡± I replied. She stalked across the room- my family lived and worked in a series of interconnected tents- and sat down across the low table from me. ¡°Give it to me.¡± She pointed at the rod I had just set down. Oh boy. If I gave it to her, I¡¯d never see it again. If I said no, she¡¯d demand it from me and there would be a long, mostly shouted fight over who it belonged to. I had to deflect. ¡°I¡¯m not finished with it.¡± I replied. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± She stated stubbornly. ¡°I want to see it. Give it to me now.¡± Time for something different. Let¡¯s appeal to her Azure tendencies. ¡°This isn¡¯t worth your attention, yet. Let me finish working on it, and when it¡¯s finished, I¡¯ll show it to you.¡± Her eyes narrowed at that, and then she bit her lip. ¡°Share it with me.¡± She replied, and held out her hand. Ah shit. I handed it to her. Her nails made clicking noises against the ivory as she turned it around and scrutinized it from every angle. ¡°It looks ...boring.¡± She decided with a frown, and passed it back. ¡°Well, like I said at the beginning- it¡¯s not finished.¡± I replied defensively. I pointed out several spots. ¡°There¡¯s going to be some mythril rings here and here, there¡¯s going to be an adamantine gem setting on this end, the ivory will be carved, of course-¡± I explained, but she cut me off. ¡°What gem?¡± She asked. I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve got no clue. I wasn¡¯t given one, yet.¡± ¡°What carvings?¡± She demanded. ¡°I dunno. I¡¯m shaping it right now so I can get the mythril rings onto it.¡± I replied. She frowned at me again. Her silk robes rustled as her tail flicked about behind her. ¡°It looks boring.¡± She repeated. I didn¡¯t know what it was that she wanted from me. ¡°Show me the design.¡± She demanded. I pulled out several sheets of paper- paper was expensive, but since we worked with gems and gold and rare metals we could afford a bit- and passed over the sketches. She frowned over them. She pointed at the ends. ¡°Two mythril rings at each end, and a ring of sapphire between them.¡± She picked up a pen and drew what she envisioned. A mythril ring, a ring carved from sapphire, and a second mythril ring, with the adamantine setting holding a sapphire roughly the size of a baby¡¯s fist. There was no way that we- my family, that is- could afford something like that. ¡°That would be something spectacular to see.¡± I replied. ¡°I don¡¯t have the sapphire to do it, but I would love to try, at least.¡± Angry thunderheads filled her brow. ¡°You won¡¯t make it?!¡± She demanded hotly. I set the rod down. ¡°I didn¡¯t say that-¡± ¡°Then make it for me!¡± She yelled, slamming her hands down on the table. ¡°I said that I want it, and that means you have to make it!¡± ¡°Oh no, you don¡¯t get to pull that shit with me!¡± I shouted back, slamming my own hands down and the table and shoving my face into hers. ¡°I didn¡¯t say that I won¡¯t, I said that I can¡¯t!¡± She recoiled a little bit, but I could see that she didn¡¯t much like being on the defensive, and her anger was building again. I held up one of the more delicate tools she¡¯d damaged when she¡¯d slapped the table; it was now mangled beyond use. Those of the Dragonflight were inhumanly strong, because they were inhuman. ¡°If I don¡¯t have the tools to make what you want, I can¡¯t make it!¡± I yelled, shaking the broken scraper under her nose. ¡°If I don¡¯t have the materials to make what you want, I can¡¯t make it!¡± I shouted at her. ¡°And since you broke one of my tools, I can¡¯t do anything now!¡± The curtain-doors that separated my room from the others rustled. Was it my parents? Was it Halleza¡¯s mother, Ceriza? ¡°I-¡± Halleza began, but sat back on her heels. I knew she wouldn¡¯t apologize. The concept of apology didn¡¯t exist in the Dragonflights. They never did anything wrong, so apologies weren¡¯t necessary. But her wings drooped, and she fidgeted a little. Maybe she was feeling remorseful. Or, maybe, like the rumors said, she was being incredibly manipulative. Azures were rumored to be crafty, that they had to learn it because the Nero and the Crimson were so strong that the weaker Azures had to make up for it in guile. She reached into her robes and brought out a mangled piece of adamantine and a sapphire the size of a grown man¡¯s fist. ¡°Here.¡± She mumbled and got up and left. Everything went dark again. Dragon Bard 4 The next time I woke up, I was kneeling in front of the Goddess statue in the temple, and I knew who I was. Who I had been. It immediately became obvious to me that everything I¡¯d ever learned in my previous life was stupid, pointless, and irrelevant. The people were different, their lifestyles were different, the world was different, nothing applied, nothing was relevant. There was nothing useful in anything I¡¯d remembered... except for music. Oh, the music. My head was crammed with songs, and I craved the guitar that was promised to me. I wanted to call the guitar to my hands, but- ¡°Human.¡± Her sharp, peremptory voice cut through my thoughts like a razor. ¡°How long are you going to kneel there?¡± She demanded. ¡°For as long as I need to, Halleza.¡± I replied, rising to my feet. Somewhere between the last time I¡¯d seen her- three years? Four? She¡¯d grown up. She¡¯d matured from the baby-faced girl into a young woman. Her hair was like her mother¡¯s, long and glossy black, streaked with a deep, shimmery blue. She was still arrogant, imperious, sometimes cranky, but always haughty. ¡°There are no gods in this world.¡± She stated coolly. ¡°Only the Dragonflight.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± I asked curiously. She tilted her head to the side. ¡°There has never been any proof of any Gods in this world.¡± She replied. ¡°Therefore there aren¡¯t any.¡± I rubbed my chin in thought. Sometimes she was crafty, intelligent beyond her years, sometimes she was as innocently naive as the five-year-old that I had met ten years ago. ¡°Maybe they haven¡¯t shown themselves because no one knows how to advent or appeal to them correctly.¡± I mused. She gave me a confused look. I held out my hand to her, and surprisingly, she took it, her grip sure and strong. She allowed me to take her hand like this if I was escorting her. ¡°You know, my family and I have passed through cities that don¡¯t believe magic exists.¡± I suggested. ¡°Magic isn¡¯t real. It¡¯s the stuff of fairy tails and dreamers.¡± She frowned and snatched her hand back. ¡°Magic is real!¡± She stated dangerously. ¡°Show me these people, that I can prove it by flinging it in their face!¡± I let out a long sigh and stopped walking. She turned and faced me curiously. ¡°What?¡± She demanded, brows already down. ¡°You jump too quickly.¡± I replied. She folded her hands at her waist and tapped her foot impatiently. ¡°They don¡¯t believe in magic because they¡¯ve never seen it. They don¡¯t know how it works. They don¡¯t know how to invoke it.¡± I held out my hand to her, but she kept her arms folded. ¡°Just the same way that some people don¡¯t believe that there¡¯s a goddess.¡± Her hand blurred, and stars exploded across my vision. He head rang as if I¡¯d just been hit with a hammer. She hit me. My vision cleared, I was somehow down on one knee, spitting blood while she loomed over me. ¡°Do not insult me.¡± She spat coldly. ¡°And one more thing: I refuse to allow a human to condescend to me.¡± I pushed myself to my feet-and then I slapped her back. Her eyes widened in shock as she brought her hand to her face. ¡°You hit me? You hit me!¡± She shouted, and her eyes flickered with brilliant blue light. She was coming into her Dragonflight powers, and what an adult did with control, she did without thinking. ¡°I thought we¡¯d agreed not to hit each other.¡± I warned, and I could see her clench her jaw. Unless I missed my guess, her next move would be to look down her nose at me. ¡°I was going to give you a present for your birthday, but if we¡¯re just going to spend the day slapping each other in the street, you can kiss it goodbye- I¡¯ll sell it to some merchant!¡± She balled up her fists, and then took her time adjusting her robes. Clothes for the Dragonflight were complicated things, since they had to make accommodation for wings and tails and horns. Everyone that had been walking around in the bazaar had disappeared, not willing to be caught in the zone of a Dragonflight¡¯s wrath. ¡°You called me stupid!¡± She accused. ¡°No, no I didn¡¯t.¡± I replied calmly, spitting blood again. ¡°I suggested that there are things you don¡¯t know, because you haven¡¯t experienced them, yet.¡± I wiped the blood off my lips and forced myself to make eye contact with her. ¡°Which is easy to do, since you¡¯ve only visited six cities in your life.¡± She glared at me, her eyes glowing, her wings spread wide, and I could feel the pressure of her magical intimidation crushing down on me. ¡°I am tired of your condescension. I am tired of your insults and insinuations. You need to remember your place, human!¡± She barked. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Ahhh, shit. Fadeout. The Dragonflight could use magic as easily as breathing. Not only did they use magic easily, they had their own dragon-based powers that were (as the story goes) derived from their draconic ancestors. Magical intimidation was easy. They just sort of... pushed their magic out like ... say, telekinesis, I guess, and suddenly you couldn¡¯t breathe, your heart locked up in your chest. ¡°I came as soon as I felt your magic. I¡¯ve told you before, you¡¯re unskilled. Look, you¡¯ve killed your pet human.¡± Ceriza¡¯s voice. ¡°He can¡¯t be dead. He¡¯s my human. He can¡¯t be so weak as to die from something so little.¡± I found myself hoisted up into the air. Still couldn¡¯t see, though. Hearing was a struggle, too. ¡°He won¡¯t survive another hour, Halleza. You¡¯ve killed him. Well, I can find you another pet. Let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°No!¡± Halleza yelled. What was that? Genuine concern? For me? This was clearly a dream. Or maybe I was dying. ¡°Humans die, Halleza. They¡¯re weak, fragile things. I told you to be gentle with him.¡± ¡°He can¡¯t die! You can fix it, right? Make him better?¡± She pleaded. ¡°Why?¡± A baffled response. ¡°He wasn¡¯t anything of any particular note. I¡¯ll find you a better human.¡± Everything was getting cold, but that was okay, because I was also getting numb at the same time. I¡¯d just hit fifteen, the same as Halleza, a year away from adulthood. I did my best. You know, I made some really good-looking jewelry. Rings, brooches, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, the works. I even made this little statuary where a silver dragon with lapis scales and wings perched on a little tower I¡¯d made from some golden marble, head turned downward, breathing flames of gold downward. Halleza loved it and claimed it for herself. She wanted everything I made, she claimed everything for herself. Her mother secretly, reluctantly, angrily paid for everything, because Halleza refused to believe everything I made wasn¡¯t a gift for her. Except, you know, it wasn¡¯t. I was trying to get my name out there, but she just... took everything. What¡¯s a jeweler without any works to show? Oh well. I¡¯d do better in my next life. I woke up in some place that was lush. Rich, opulent. There was piles of gold, silver, mythril, adamantine, strange ingots of some material I¡¯d never seen before, with a rainbow-like shimmer. Spools of silk, brocaded and plain, spools of fine gold and silver threading, jewels of every kind imaginable, and a lot that I have never seen before in my life. Cups, bowls, chains, jewelry, the floor was practically awash in money. What was I laying in? On? I looked around; it wasn¡¯t the piled carpets with the blankets I was used to. I was in some sort of ... hammock, if you wanted maybe fit twenty people in a hammock, that is. I reached out and touched the fabric. It felt... a lot like silk. It was piled in cushions. I was buried in silks and cushions. Where the fuck was I? Oh, right. I was dead, right? So.. where was the administrator lady? I woke up again, and that strange place with the mounded silks and piles of riches was gone. I was in my bedroom once again. My mother, tired and careworn, her hair wrapped up in a dyed silk scarf, came in and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing me awake. ¡°I ... wasn¡¯t certain I¡¯d see you awake again, son.¡± she worried. ¡°I¡¯m so tired.¡± I groaned. Everything felt weak and all my muscles felt heavy. ¡°Can you walk?¡± She asked, coming over with a bowl of water. She wrung out a cloth and mopped my forehead. ¡°Walk?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if I can stand, and you want to know if I can walk?¡± ¡°I-¡± my mother started, but she caught herself. ¡°We think it¡¯s best if you leave. Before Halleza comes back.¡± My mouth opened, but nothing came out. ¡°Leave?¡± I asked, and I couldn¡¯t help it, it sounded stupid. She nodded. ¡°Yes, leave.¡± She agreed. ¡°Lady Ceriza suggested it, and your father and I agree: It¡¯s best if you... leave.¡± I struggled to sit up. ¡°Leave?¡± I repeated. ¡°Why?¡± My mother sighed and sat back and folded her hands in her lap and looked to the side. ¡°There¡¯s... there¡¯s a rumor. It¡¯s going through the whole camp that you hit Lady Halleza.¡± Suddenly I understood everything without my mother needing to explain any further. ¡°You don¡¯t defy the Dragonflights.¡± I stated numbly. ¡°Well, you can defy the Azure in certain ways, otherwise you¡¯ll never get paid for your work...¡± My father rebutted with a smile, ¡°But openly striking one in the street?¡± He looked down at his hands. ¡°Son... you might have just stripped away any goodwill the Azure has held for this camp.¡± He gave me a bleak look. ¡°We might go back to being slaves again.¡± The weight of what I¡¯d done weighed on me. It wasn¡¯t just an argument between Halleza and I. It was a defiance between our whole camp against the Dragonflight that did business with us, that occasionally and indifferently provided protection against other villages, other cities. That went out of their way to try and offer shelter against the Nero, the Vermillion, and Veridian. Halleza was the daughter of Ceriza, the- she might have been the Queen of the Azure, or she might have been just an important person... or even a nobody amongst the Azure, but here, in this village, in this camp of wandering nomads, Ceriza was a queen and nobody defied her. Defying her daughter was defying her. Defying her was defying the Azure. ¡°I¡¯ll pack my things.¡± I decided. My mother lowered her head; my father looked to the side. ¡°We¡¯ve already bundled your clothes and some food together.¡± He explained. ¡°We¡¯ve found you... a good, stout walking stick. If you can stand, you can walk. If you can walk... leave. Leave, and never return.¡± Everything weighed on me like a ton of bricks, but I struggled to my feet. Exiled. ¡°My- my tools?¡± I asked, hoping against hope.. They didn¡¯t say anything. They didn¡¯t need to. Adulthood started when you turned sixteen. I was fifteen, so I didn¡¯t get to claim any sort of inheritance. The tools I was using in my apprenticeship were theirs. There was a heavy, painful, and awkward silence between us. It was time for me to go. Dragon Bard 5 I struggled with the weight of my things as I headed down the road. I hadn¡¯t received so much as a donkey when I left, and the weight of my pack dragged down on me. My family- my tribe? My people? We were nomads that lived in tent cities and we moved from place to place, buying, selling, bartering where we could. ¡®Where we could¡¯ was a euphemism for ¡®mostly Azure territory¡¯. When I was living on Earth, I never thought I¡¯d be part of a ... people that lived like this. And now I was an exile. None of the Traveling People would take me in. According to the Traveling People, I was doomed to wander as an exile until death claimed me, but there was nothing that really stopped me from trying to find work or living in a city. There was a part of me that strongly resisted the idea, the part of me that insisted that I wasn¡¯t reincarnated, the part of me that had grown and developed while I was still asleep somewhere in my own head, waiting for the time when my brain could accommodate my soul. Part of me longed for a car, part of me longed for a horse or a donkey, part of me wished this whole thing a terrible nightmare. No home. No tent. No bed. No family. There was a city a few weeks away, but... could I make it that far? I was an idiot; I should have headed for the city that my family was camped out next to. I might have been able to eke out a place to sleep and then found something to do for work. Stupidly, I¡¯d headed in the wrong direction. The sun was setting. I needed to find a place to sleep. I stepped off the road and pushed my way through the brush and into some fields covered by some belly-high tall grass. I¡¯d sleep here tonight, and then in the morning I¡¯d turn around and head to the city. I unpacked my bundle of clothes, looked over the food. There were meats and cheeses, a small jar of pickles and sheets of flatbread that reminded me of naan. Tucked in my clothes was a small pouch with a handful of gold and silver, as well as a small spool of leather; my father had included my jeweler¡¯s tools. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. I couldn¡¯t stop crying, then. I¡¯d wrapped myself up in my extra clothes and sort of bundled the tall grasses together to form a shelter, and that¡¯s how I spent the first night of my exile. When I woke up the next morning, I remembered that the ...administrator... lady had promised me a guitar, so I concentrated on that, and the guitar appeared in my hands. It came as a bit of a shock; I didn¡¯t expect something like that to happen. One moment it wasn¡¯t there and then suddenly, there it was, right in my hands. I fumbled for a moment, fingers hesitating over the strings, wondering what I should play. A memory came to me; I was hunched over a guitar, when I was ... as old as I am now, teaching myself by playing a cassette of a song, plucking the strings, rewinding, playing, plucking the strings, rewinding, over and over and over again. Yeah. Let¡¯s go. I started playing and suddenly I could feel magic surging up in me as I played. My body suddenly felt stronger, healthier. Hy heart surged in my chest and I could feel my sense of balance correct itself subtly. I stood up as I swung into the bridge, fingers working the frets as I pushed through into the chorus. My vision seemed clearer; I could spot things at a much further distance now. I suddenly realized that my vision hadn¡¯t been perfect when I was born; I remember having to concentrate over my work, straining my eyes as I agonized over some tiny detail. I worked into the main melody, and then back to the bridge, strove for the crescendo, aggressively beating down on the strings as I worked through, and then slowed down as I resolved down to the outro. ¡°Fuck you, I¡¯m out!¡± I shouted as the last note faded. Holy shit that felt great. I hadn¡¯t played like that in years. Really, I hadn¡¯t played like that ever, but thanks to my ability I could play it perfectly. I armed a little sweat from my brow, and the guitar faded in my hands and was gone a moment later. ¡°Damn, that felt great.¡± I muttered to myself as I stuffed some food in my mouth. I washed it down with a little wine, and then headed back the way I came- not to my people, but to the city that I had been forbidden from entering by my clan¡¯s taboos. I swung wide from the Traveling People¡¯s encampment, entered the city gate, and got my first look at a real city instead of one that was made from tents. The walls were high and thick and made from some robust stone, the streets were paved, and people walked or rode horses through the streets. Their clothes were wildly different from mine; they didn¡¯t wear the flowing robes of the Traveling People, they wore shirts and pants and dresses and all sorts of things. I had to find a way of fitting in. I summoned my guitar and headed towards the heart of the city; I assumed that was where the more well-to-do inns would be- maybe if I razzle-dazzled them with my guitar-playing they¡¯d let me stay if I played for my room and board. After that- maybe I could find a gemsmith that¡¯d be willing to take me on as an apprentice? Thessuriah the Shade ¡°There¡¯s a weird feeling...¡± She muttered, ¡°and I can¡¯t put a finger on it.¡± Felix tossed his braid over his shoulder and blinked. ¡°¡®Weird feeling¡¯?¡± He asked, giving Alisa a somewhat skeptical look. Alisa folded her arms under her breasts and glared at him. ¡°Like we¡¯re being watched, or followed.¡± He sighed, and looked around the street. ¡°Uhhh...¡± He trailed off. ¡°The best place would be... a tavern. Ideally a hell, where nobody knows anything.¡± He sighed, and tipped his head towards Alisa. ¡°But a woman of your pedigree would never stoop to be seen in a hell, am I right?¡± he finished sarcastically. She drew in a hissing breath, preparing to upbraid him, but he was right. She¡¯d never stoop to the kind of dim, filthy places where piss-poor ale was served in grimy tankards, the floors were dirt and sawdust, and everyone glared at everyone else suspiciously- the kinds of places where arguments were solved with quick, brutal thrusts of a knife. No one of any common sense would visit a hell. She looked up at Felix, but he was already moving. ¡°I guess an alley will have to do.¡± They stepped off the main street, where he crouched near some crates. He hunkered down, shook his head, and stood back up and turned back to Alisa. ¡°Don¡¯t freak out, don¡¯t get upset... and try not to speak to her. She¡¯ll get...¡± He trailed off and rolled his eyes. ¡°...difficult.¡± Alisa gave him a baffled look. ¡°What¡¯re you talking about?¡± She asked. He sighed again, and slumped a little. ¡°I have a Shade.¡± He admitted reluctantly. She jolted. ¡°A demon?!¡± She blurted hotly, taking several steps backwards. Felix seized Alisa¡¯s arm at the elbow. ¡°No, not a demon. A Shade. They live in the shadows... they¡¯re made of Shadow.¡± He stressed the last word, and Alisa grimaced. Felix was apparently not only proficient in several Inner Track elements, he had the qualities of at least two Middle Track elements. Alisa was lauded as a genius, a prodigy by her House, her family was effusive in their praise when she¡¯d revealed that not only did she have affinity for Earth and Water, the components of Arcane, she had a Talent for the Arcane as well. And yet, here was Felix, who apparently had all the components for both Arcane and Shadow. She¡¯d assumed that he was just an Arcanist, like her. ¡°I don¡¯t know what a Shade is like.¡± She finally admitted, and glanced down at her arm significantly. He let her go. ¡°I¡¯m learning, too.¡± He admitted reluctantly. ¡°Shadow users aren¡¯t terribly popular, you know. I have to ... go all sorts of places to learn even just the basics.¡± Alisa moved to sit on one of the boxes, and eyeing the grime, decided against it. ¡°So... tell me about your Shade.¡± She invited hesitantly. ¡°You could just meet her.¡± Felix replied. ¡°Well, not in the conventional sense.¡± She shifted on her feet. ¡°It¡¯s a ¡®her¡¯?¡± He nodded. ¡°She''s basically got two moods: Sulky and petulant, and needy and melancholic.¡± He paused. ¡°That should pretty much tell you ... everything about her personality.¡± He rolled his eyes, and then squatted back down. ¡°I¡¯ll call her, but there are ground rules: Don¡¯t look directly at her. She hates being seen. Don¡¯t talk to her. Don¡¯t repeat what she says while she¡¯s here. Don¡¯t freak out. Don¡¯t get upset. She really, really likes silence.¡± She looked around the alley and nodded. He adjusted his cloak, moving it around so that Alisa couldn¡¯t actually see what he was doing. ¡°She usually appears in shadows darker than these.¡± He muttered. ¡°I don¡¯t know if this is dark enough-¡± A pale hand rose up out of the shadows at his feet, which darkened, spreading across the alley. It was nearing time to return to the academy from lunch, but here, in this alley, in this moment, the shadows were as deep as eveningtime. The hand grabbed his arm, and the shadows darkened even further and then bulged as a head rose up out of them, skin as pale as milk, hair as dark as the shadows itself. Her eyes were indistinct, her mouth was pretty, but twisted into an irritable pout. She whispered something, and he shifted, but she pulled his arm and pressed his hand against her face. ¡°Thessuriah,¡± He admonished, but she flashed him an irritated glance and nuzzled her face against his hand. He sighed patiently, and then started stroking and petting the otherworldly creature¡¯s head. After several uncomfortable minutes, She pulled herself further out of the shadow and whispered in Felix¡¯s ear. After she¡¯d finished, she turned and looked right at Alisa, who immediately looked away. The creature spat something in a language that wasn¡¯t meant for human tongues to speak, that wasn¡¯t meant for human ears to hear, and dove back into the shadows. As the shadows faded, Alisa saw Felix pick up something- it looked like a book- and tuck it behind his belt as he stood. Felix gave Alisa a frustrated look. ¡°You looked at her. I told you not to-¡± He threw up his hands. ¡°Do you have any idea what sort of gehenna she¡¯s going to put me through for that?¡± He asked, exasperated. ¡°She might even decide to find your shadow and do the same to you!¡± Alisa rolled her eyes. ¡°As if my rooms weren¡¯t warded.¡± He gave her a skeptical look.¡°You have wards against Shadow creatures?¡± Her eyes flicked to the side. ¡°Maybe.¡± ¡°How about your person?¡± He prodded. ¡°She could be in your shadow right now. Even if your rooms were warded, it wouldn¡¯t stop her from coming into your room from your shadow. In fact, it would be even worse, since she wouldn¡¯t be able to leave.¡± Alisa took a few steps back towards the mouth of the alley, suddenly very conscious of the sun and how the light spread across the ground. Shadows were everywhere! Why hadn¡¯t she been aware of how something so obvious- a person¡¯s shadow- it intersected the shadows of buildings, other people, animals, everything cast shadows, even plants. ¡°You look like you are starting to really understand the depth of fear when it comes to Shadow users.¡± Felix offered quietly. ¡°Shadow itself isn¡¯t evil, though obviously people with ... loose moral compasses often use it for evil.¡± Alisa pressed her lips together at that. ¡°How do you use it?¡± She finally asked as they headed back towards the academy. ¡°Hmm? Oh. Uhhh,well, I learned your friends are going to try and bully me again. I¡¯m much too low-brow to hang out with the likes of you. They need to put me in my place.¡± She stopped short with a frown. ¡°They¡¯re what? I¡¯ll put a stop to it.¡± He nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. They¡¯re much too great to do the bullying themselves; they¡¯ve hired other people to do it for them.¡± He spread his hands harmlessly. ¡°All completely untraceable, of course. You¡¯ll never pin anything on anyone.¡± ¡°Then what am I supposed to do?¡± She complained. ¡°I get to choose who I hang out with, not them.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Let it happen. I can take care of myself. I¡¯m a little further along in my Arcane studies than they are.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not right, though!¡± She complained. ¡°Hmm.¡± Felix mused. ¡°I wonder.¡± ¡°Wonder what?¡± She retorted, flicking her ash blonde hair over her shoulder. ¡°Well, It¡¯s a question that shouldn¡¯t need to be asked, usually.¡± He replied, but added, ¡°Do you think of me as a lesser person, like they do?¡± He asked honestly. ¡°What? No!¡± She shot back as they crossed the street. ¡°Then why do you think I need your protection?¡± He asked curiously. ¡°Arcane users are influenced by their Outer Track- by Order. Put that Order-influenced mind of yours to work and think about it.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. She frowned at him. ¡°I have the right to choose who I associate with.¡± He raised his eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re from a noble House with a storied lineage. It makes sense that your House would ally itself with other Houses. Are you sure you can simply cut them off like that?¡± He pressed. She stopped and turned around to face him. ¡°You¡¯re not of Noble birth, but I happen to like you, most of the time.¡± She replied tersely. ¡°I should be able...¡± She trailed off. ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal for me.¡± Felix replied. ¡°I already know what they plan. I can manage it.¡± ¡°Felix-¡± She started, but he shook his head. ¡°Let me deal with it my own way.¡± He stated firmly. She sighed and nodded. [*****] Because her family¡¯s estates were so far away from the arcana academy, Alisa slept in the dorms. Her rooms were simple; she had a sitting room that also functioned as a study, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a room for her maid. She wasn¡¯t particularly fond of having to dine with the other students at set times with no ability to dine at her leisure, but she managed to deal with the onerous stresses by looking forward to the future as an Arcanist. The world was a chaotic jumble of competing and contradictory ideas. It fell to the Arcanists to put things in order, or, failing that, to seek order in that mess. She snapped her finger and a thin silvery thread of magic snapped itself into a rectangle in front of her and an image appeared of her maid, carefully shelving books. ¡°Anna, I¡¯ll be there soon.¡± She said to the image. This time Anna didn¡¯t jump. She was getting used to Alisa messaging her this way. ¡°Please have tea and a bath prepared.¡± Anna nodded, and Alisa waved the spell away. One of her friends- well, one of the people from an allied Noble house that was attached to her as a ¡®friend¡¯, waved at her from down the hall. ¡°You have it lucky.¡± Alisa complained to Edith. ¡°Arcane studies are so exhausting.¡± Edith tittered. ¡°Water is sooo boring.¡± ¡°I had Water classes too, you know.¡± Alisa admonished. ¡°I thought that they were pretty interesting. From an Arcanist¡¯s point of view, the water cycle of steam, water, and ice explains the Order of the world.¡± Edith rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll never be an Arcanist. In fact, I don¡¯t qualify for any Middle Track affinity. Just Water. Plain, ordinary Water.¡± ¡°The trick, I think, is to be creative with what you have. A clever mage can use whatever Affinity they have well, whether they¡¯re Inner, Middle, or Outer.¡± Alisa remarked decisively. ¡°There are many Hub users that hold high positions because of their absolute mastery of their affinity.¡± Edith nodded. ¡°The Firebringer is famous in the Eastern Kingdoms.¡± Alisa snapped her finger. ¡°See? Alrond is famous, not for setting things on fire, but for setting up a system where Fire is sent to every kitchen in Karsten. I¡¯m certain something similar could be implemented for water...¡± She trailed off, ¡°but I haven¡¯t figured it out, yet. When we leave here, I want to work with you on that.¡± Edith¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You¡¯d really work with me?¡± Her gray eyes were surprised. Alisa nodded. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll need your mastery of Water, though.¡± She replied as if it were obvious. Edith made her departure, hurrying to her own apartments, light of step. Of course, Alisa had already mastered Water, and she already knew what she was going to do, but it didn¡¯t hurt to get Edith more firmly on her side. [*****] Alisa was in the bath when the polished lamps were all snuffed out and the room was plunged into darkness. A deeper darkness than she knew was possible grew along the wall and seeped into the ceiling; she¡¯d seen the darkness of night, the hidden shadows of a cupboard, an unlit dressing room, but this darkness seemed to suck in all light, a void of nothingness. She had enough time to recall it was like when Felix had summoned his Shade in the alley. A sibilant hiss, filled with vexatious spite boiled from that darkness, and then suddenly she was pelted with books. She cringed, feet slipping on the bottom of her bathtub as she tried to backpedal away from that darkness. She struggled, batting them away with her hands as they rained down on her, clattering against the thick porcelain, splashing against the water that was rapidly going cold. Even as the books were flying, the room was filled with whispers, half-heard snatches, -don¡¯t look at me- -don¡¯t see me- -i hate you- -stay away- -he is mine- Overlaying them all was a whispering voice not much stronger than the others, speaking again in a language not meant to be passed through human throats, shaped by human tongues, spoken by human lips or heard by human ears, understood by human minds. It grated like metal scraping across stone, spiked like needles in her ears, claws scraping down her spine. Alisa let out a cry as that horrid language churned her stomach and suddenly the Shade was gone just as Anna, her maid, burst into the bathroom. ¡°My lady, what happened- oh, the lights are out-¡± Anna fussed, and produced a firestick. She tipped back the glass chimney and lit the lamp, then moved through the room, lighting each of them in turn. One of the maid¡¯s feet hit one of the books that had hit the rim of the tub and bounced off. She knelt and picked it up, holding it to the light. ¡°Articles of High Reason- My lady, I had meant to talk to you about this after your bath, but all twenty-three volumes of this have vanished.¡± Alisa stood up in the tub and gestured around her. ¡°It seems that I¡¯ve found them.¡± She complained. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to talk to a friend of mine and see if he can help.¡± Her maid gave her a baffled look, even as she passed Alisa a towel and began retrieving the soggy books from the bath. Alisa rubbed her forehead as she toweled herself off. She went to reach for her robe, a beautiful glossy painted silk with interlocking geometries, it suddenly jerked away from her hand and vanished. Alisa clenched her jaw, then stubbornly moved to her bedroom. She threw open her closet and growled when she saw that all of her clothes were gone. All of them. Not a stitch remained. ¡°By the Master¡¯s Equation.¡± She complained. She entered the closet and shut the door, plunging herself into complete darkness. She could still see, so she closed her eyes, and tried to remember the Shade¡¯s name. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re here with me, but I¡¯m sorry I looked at you.¡± She announced to the darkness in a voice she hoped sounded contrite. She really needed her clothes, so she was contrite, but it was vexing that she couldn¡¯t figure out a way to interfere with ...whatever that creatures¡¯ name was. Those that worked with Arcane were influenced by its progenitor concept, the Outer Track of Order. Order insisted that there was an explanation for everything. Even incomprehensible things had a comprehensible explanation. To the uninitiated, food simply existed. To someone who understood the recipe, that a certain amount of this and a certain amount of that, and cooked at this temperature yielded a wonderful cake. Everything had an explanation, a justification, a reason. Even its counterpoint, Chaos had an explanation, according to Serene Equinox, a major contributor of Order and the author of the Articles of High Reason. The Lady Serene was both venerated and a pariah, since she took a Chaos man for a lover and bore him seven children. Seven! Serene only explained her decision once: ¡°It was the most reasonable thing to do.¡± To Alisa, there had to be a way she could prevent Felix¡¯s... shade from bothering her without resorting to fetching a Light or Holy ward. She liked Felix, and from the way he¡¯d treated ... whatever the shade¡¯s name was, she didn¡¯t want to have it destroyed. Felix would never forgive her, he was certain. ¡°I promise you that I will never look at you again without your permission. Please return my clothes and return to Felix.¡± There was a slithering thump somewhere in front of her, and then suddenly there was a feeling as if someone or something stood extremely close to her. She could feel its cool breath on her face. -there are shadows inside of you- And then, just as quickly as she sensed it, it was gone. He moved her hand back, groping for the door latch. Her hand fell on it, and she pulled open the door and then walked backwards out of the room. She closed the door and let out a breath, and cautiously cracked open one of her eyes. No Shade. She opened both eyes, and then carefully and slowly opened the closet door- her clothes lay in an ungainly and messy heap on the floor, alongside several interesting trinkets she¡¯d picked up since coming to the academy and several more books. [*****] ¡°Well?¡± Felix asked Thessuriah, when she slid out of the darkness. She sulked, pouting. ¡°She apologized and promised not to look at me.¡± She spat. ¡°See? I knew Alisa would do that. I told you so.¡± He held out his hand and she flowed towards it, grabbed his hand and bit it, bit hard. ¡°That hurts, you know.¡± He complained through gritted teeth. She hung on for a moment, but let him go, and flowed around so that she was sitting with her back to him. ¡°I hate her.¡± She spat. ¡°You hate everything.¡± ¡°I hate that you think I hate you.¡± She complained, and then she grabbed his hand again and covered it with kisses, holding it to her face. She was starting to get moody and melancholic. Shades were born of the strange energy that drifted from the Void, the Outer Track that directly opposed Light, void power mixed with strong emotions that were left in shadow- mostly from death. People stabbed others in alleys, wives killed unfaithful husbands, while others ended their own lives. Even soldiers died in the night, in the shadows. Even children. The souls left behind could become specters, ghosts, poltergeists, whatever, but those powerful emotions left some sort of residue that resonated in the Shadow and gave birth to the Shades. Thessuriah herself- she had no idea of her own origins, she simply was as far as he could tell- even the name was something he¡¯d given her, a crude approximation of her own name that she tolerated. She leaned against him, but he could barely feel it. She was made of Shadow, and shadow had no weight. Her touch was feather-light, her kisses felt like little puffs of cool air. She could limb on top of him and he would barely notice. You could only really feel shadow when it attacked; she often bit him as proof of that. She was only able to really feel him when he was using shadow magic, which reinforced her, made her stronger. ¡°Did the book help?¡± She asked. ¡°It did.¡± He agreed. She fell silent at that. She wasn¡¯t capable of expressing many emotions, and whenever something happened that she couldn¡¯t express emotionally, she fell silent. She also preferred silence, so didn¡¯t get many chances to talk to her. Usually she¡¯d just show up and bite him, tell him the things he asked her, and then fall silent.