dragonpiece

The Hourglass Order

Riddle of Lindenholdt Day 1: Families

The Journey

It was apparent, from the length of the route that they took and the length of time that it took for the cathedral to grow appreciably in size, that Dom St. Adelheid was quite a ways outside of Lindenholdt's core.

It was also impossibly large for a town of this size.

Its great twin belltowers loomed above the town, their shadows stretching long and pointed, stabbing into the very heart of Market Square and on past it through the halls of the town's guilds, and then further, still, all of the way to the Von Mollern Estate. They lay, as yet, silent: two of their eight bells mounted, another five still waiting to be hoisted into place, and the final one stuck in transit, thanks to the ice on the river.

And, yet, Lindenholdt itself was anything but silent. Dozens of colourful stalls, vendors, and shopfronts opened onto the plaza. One man was selling trees beside the fountain, though he was almost out of them. Steam curled from a great pot of hot apple cider. Men chatted about the news or their holiday plans while their wives haggled with vendors and their children dashed and darted through a sea of legs and torsos. Elders sat around the fountain or in front of shops, deep in conversation or keeping an eye on the youngsters, just as others had once kept an eye on them. The town butcher was busy setting out some fine cuts of venison. A burly woman with a sleigh was selling bundles of firewood. Cookies waited in bakeries, and the sweet smell of sugar and spratz filled the air. Johann had something to say about virtually all of these.

"We'll be stopping here for about twenty minutes," Bastian announced, hooking his thumbs into his belt and scanning the crowd. "I don't know about you, but I'm yet to enjoy a proper lunch, and an officer of ze peace runs on his stomach. Feel free to ask some questions, zough most people here are not fluent in Avintz." He shook his head. "And don't push too hard just yet, my super sleuths." He winked. "Stay close, fill your bellies, and we shall be on our way."

Ingrid looked around the market and all its wonders seemed to be laid out in front of her. To the portly man, unable to tie his shoe, to the tempting bakery with some revidians posted out front speaking in their own mother tongue. She pointed it out to Marco, the seemingly revidian in their group. "Do you think you can pick me up something from there? Something buttery, please!" Ingrid made her fake plea to Marco.

Marco was absentmindedly listening to Johann go on a long winded tirade about the merits of pairing snickerdoodles with apple cider when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. ”Hm?”

He turned his head away from the portly man, whose mouth was still running away from him, to take notice of Ingrid. She pointed to a bakery across the street and made a request. Apparently she was hungry. He still wasn’t quite ready for lunch yet, but he also had nothing better to do until they reached their destination, so Marco didn’t mind doing his fellow student the small favor.

With Marco left to grab a treat for her and eavesdrop on the revidians, she decided to lend her aid to the portly gentleman by the fountain, "Excuse me?" Ingrid asked the man in avincian. "Would you like me to help you with your shoes?" she asked before doing. She got in trouble doing something similar to some of the wheelchaired folk before.

Bastian was out and about, wheedling his way into the cider lineup by chatting up a couple of young women. The four students, meanwhile, had spread to the four winds in search of, more or less, Lindenholdt. At Ingrid's sudden appearance, the very heavy man looked up, his face rather red but far from unpleasant. Something about him just appeared... nice.

"Ah, yes," he replied in accented Avincian, "I appear to be ze roundest man here, haha!" He straightened with some difficulty and dabbed at his forehead with a kerchief. "I suppose ze kampf is futile." He nodded. "I would not decline." he studied her as she moved in, however, clearly recognizing that she was not from around here. Perhaps he was merely too polite to ask.

Ingrid had a chuckle at ze roundest man here, "It would be no trouble at all." She crouched down, lifting her dress and tucking it into her knee to not muddy it. She tied it as she was taught to, taking care to make it tough enough to hold on but not to tight to be uncomfortable when stepped with.

from her crouched position, "There, it should hold for the rest of your day." She smiled and gave a small nod as she rose back to a stand, letting her dress fall back down.

As she was crouching, Ingrid could not help but notice a boy of about twelve or thirteen hovering nearby. He had, now that she thought about it, actually been there for some time. However, before she could address him, he disappeared into the crowd with a loaded glance in the direction of the heavyset man.

"Ah, danke. Thank you!" He nodded and went to heave himself to his feet, the effort seeming to tax him some. "Oh, where are my manners, young lady." He chuckled apologetically, eyes momentarily searching for the boy before giving up. "Hans Grünewald, master of ze dyer's guild." Now that she considered it, his clothes were not only fine, but rather tastefully colourful as well. "And yourself?"

Ingrid gave a light curtsy, "Ingrid Penderson, Biro of Ersand'Enise and 2nd tallest woman in Lindenholdt," she made note of the clown that snatched the title from her. It struck her rather late, "Grünewald? Oh! You must be Edith's father, it is lovely to meet you." She did a quick look for the child who went off as he had done, "is the boy your child as well?"

Hans let out a bark of laughter and set to moving, his positively massive form something of a sight to behold. He was tall, as well as heavy, and people tipped their hats in his direction. "Ze same," he replied to Ingrid's observation. "I suppose your friends are working with zat girl." He nodded. "I shall say Zat they are in for... quite ze experience."

His chuckle was quick one, but then she asked him about the boy and his expression grew darker. Hans shook his great head tightly, huffing as he walked. "Zat is Hanno, my dear girl." He shook it again, leaning in slightly. "Hanno Zimmerman." He straightened as if it were self-explanatory, before perhaps realizing that it was not, to an outsider. "His father is Ernst - one of ze missing." Hans paused, pursing his lips, face pinched. "A good lad." He swallowed. "A good lad, and due to start his apprenticeship in the coming year, before..." He trailed off and sighed.

"Her preparatory skills were something to be admired, Dami knows that." Ingrid gave a compliment as one should in small conversation. But as the conversation continue, Ingrid's superb mood lowered to a quieter calm when she heard the name of the child. "I see," Ingrid took a moment of silence to gather her thoughts, "We were heading to their house for the investigation. Did... you know his father personally?" She asked with as much empathy as she could muster.

Hans shook his head tightly, making his way towards one of the buildings. It was the Dyers' Guild Hall and the clock above its doorway told Ingrid that she did not have so very long left. "I knew him in passing." He shook his head again. "A solid fellow: hard worker, knew his craft, saved his money." He lowered his voice and leaned in. "Liked his drink, but never struck me as a sort to take it too far." He paused and considered. "Except with his family. He had far too many children for a man of his income, if you ask me." He paused before the door. "Poor Hanno. His mother will be widowed and an apprentice does not make a wage, only room and board for his first two years. Zey will need ze income." His hand rested on the latch.

Ingrid made some mental notes based on what Hans said. Craftsmen, drinks, large family, not enough money. That is what could be used to describe Mr. Zimmerman. Maybe he has some friends at the taverns that heard some of his personal business, things you don't bring home. It was a start, no doubt Karl had already started that process but redoubling efforts may lead us somewhere.

"Well, thank you for your time Mr. Grünewald. I do hope that Hanno, should he wish, be able to continue his apprenticeship." Ingrid already had some charity work planned for Caldores, what was it to add one more child with a bright future. "I do have one last question, do you know the names of any taverns popular with commoners and craftsmen?" She glanced up to the convenient clock.
He paused at the threshold and considered, perhaps in a hurry to be somewhere but held back by the debt he felt he owed her or, perhaps, his better nature. "Der Löwenkopf." He riddled them off on his fingers. "Schwarzman's, Der Glücksbulle, and... well, Die Tanzsteifel, though that one's also an inn. Now," he concluded, "I intend no disrespect, Lady Penderson, but I really must be going." He flashed her a smile. "Have a Merry Caldores and enjoy your stay in Lindenholdt!"

"Of course, a merry Caldores to you as well." Ingrid left him to his devices and whatever demanded his attention so urgently. Not that she had so much time to spare either. Ingrid hurried to rejoin less she be the slow one of the group. She had hoped Marco had actually picked something up at the bakery, now knowing that Ernst Zimmerman had many children.

---

As Ingrid pranced off to bother one of the townsfolk, Marco realized that she hadn’t given him the money for the bread. He sighed and fished around in his pockets for some coins. The Century gave a generous stipend to its elite soldiers, so he was far from being broke, but he could only hope that a small town like this would accept coronas or magi. The young Revidian trudged across the snow covered street, dodging snowballs and runaway sheep as he went, until he secured a spot in line. As he patiently waited with his hands buried in his coat, Marco couldn’t help but overhear a conversation being held in a language that was surprisingly familiar to him.

It would be difficult to catch much above the bustle of the crowded square on the eve of Caldores, but Marco had the Gift. Thus, while he could not make out what was being said to perfection - or even full understanding - he could hear enough to make out that the people speaking were engineers or smiths of some high end commodity. More than once, he heard the words "segreto" or "finanziamenti". He heard "scadenza", "guerra", and, finally, "possiamo fidarci di loro?" There was some laughter at that. They also commented on the food being bland and tasteless except for its oversaturation with sugar.

Most mysterious of all, however, was a word that he did not quite understand, for Marco had not heard it before: "lanciafulmine". It... did not strictly make sense, but their voices seemed to drop and become serious the handful of times he heard them utter it.

Then, he had reached more or less the front of the queue, finding himself more or less next to the trio.

Marco couldn’t catch more than a fragment of their conversation, but he didn’t like the words that the three Revidians were using. A secret exchange of money. War. An unknown third party they only referred to as “them”. Were these three arms dealers, or something similar? Even if they were, did their business in Lindenholdt even remotely relate to the missing people? If not, he could not see a reason to confront them based on a few politically charged phrases. There were too many missing details for him to piece together a complete story.

When he reached the front of the line, Marco spoke his order in very slow, clinical Avinician. He was curious if the trio would continue talking, and they probably wouldn’t if they knew they were being understood. In case the baker couldn’t understand him, Marco also pointed at one of the fancier confections with his left hand while raising two fingers with his right.

They kept talking as he ordered, and the baker's daughter, behind the counter, seemed to get his meaning enough to make it easy for him to both get what he wanted and get what he really wanted.

"We're past the prototype stage - virtually ready for production. We'll make the deadline."

The single woman among the three shook her head adamantly. "Maybe so, but we have to move them, and from a place like this?" she scoffed.

"I don't even know why they chose it for a project of this importance," Griped the third, "unless it's actually not that -"

"Because we need everything we can get to even matters out, and the Kerremans are doing much of the heavy lifting." The first, with a well-trimmed silver beard and slicked back hair, was in charge. Marco could sense it.

"With our money," the female researcher protested. "It just seems like we'd be better served -" Her voice lowered and she glanced about, eyes sweeping over Marco as she took in everyone in the vicinity. "taking a prototype home and reverse engineering it back home. They'll never ship on time, not with the winter ice in this frigid excuse for a town."

Then, the third of the bunch tapped his fingers on the table in a very specific pattern "fast-slow-slow-fast-fast - pause - fast-fast." He tried to make it look idle, but it was not. They quickly and somewhat clumsily switched to talking about how cold it was here and how their boat had become stuck in the ice.

As soon as he had the food in his hands and his money splayed across the counter, Marco was gone. The conversation took a rather uninteresting turn, and hanging around for longer than necessary would only serve to have his face etched into their memories. He hadn’t heard everything, but he heard enough. There were some big weapons being moved through Lindenholdt, and Kerremand was involved somehow. From what he could piece together, the Revidians were backing some kind of weapons research, and the prototypes were being built right here in Lindenholdt. With the relationships between the great powers of Constantia teetering on the brink of conflict, Marco could guess who those weapons, the “thunder spears” as they called them, would be pointed at.

While he was a fellow countryman of theirs, Marco did not particularly care to take a political side in the looming war. His life as a priest and a Century had squashed whatever nationalistic beliefs he might have had as a hot blooded teenager. What mainly concerned him was the danger the trio themselves presented to the townsfolk. If they were hiding a cache of weapons prototypes in Lindenholdt and some clueless peasant happened to stumble upon it, then they could have been kidnapped or even killed.

I probably shouldn’t share this with anyone from Lindenholdt.... I’ll talk about it with the other students later and see what they think. Marco cradled the paper wrapped cakes in his arms and walked in the direction of Ingrid to deliver the goods, while also paying very close attention to the signatures of the three foreigners in case they ever crossed his path again.

---

Roslyn drank in the sights and sounds with an eagerness. Whenever she spotted an unfamiliar food item, she nudged Johann then pointed at it. Of course, the large fellow examined it with an eagerness that was infectious. She found herself loving holidays like Caldores. It was a welcome distraction from the hardships of the year. Sticking close to her fellow students, she caught Bastian's words.

"Will do." Her eyes caught a hard apple cider stand near the man. She looked up at Johann. "Umm, Johann?"

She waited until she had gotten his attention. "I want to try one of the hard apple ciders. Do you want to come with me? It will be my treat."

"You had me at 'hard'," Johann joked, realizing, only moments later, how that might've sounded. Could Roslyn see his cheeks redden in embarrassment?

Regardless, they made their way over and took their place in line. Children bustled and bumped through it, friends chatted, people came and went as others held their spots, and a mother rocked and tutted a crying baby. Johann translated some of the more amusing goings-on as they worked their way up. "These two are talking about their friend's new wig. One maintains that it looks like a squid. The other believes that it is like an egg cracked over her head." He motioned only with his eyes.

"This fellow is worried that his daughter will cry if he does not get her an orange for Caldores and then his mother will think that he is a bad parent." Those same eyes nearly rolled.

"Those whispering two are checking out every girl they can see and rating them by various metrics." He paused and smirked slightly. "They have rated you, too, as well as my tits." He glanced down at his own chest and pursed his lips, mock-pouting.

"These are saying that the new cathedral looks ugly, and taking bets on whether it will open on time." His chin pointed to a small cluster. "Those are on about the disappearances. They say it is the Revidians." He arched an eyebrow. "Though I cannot imagine why."

"This one's nephew, Rudy, is always getting into trouble, and more so since... Hmm." He shook his head. "Since the 'incident', she says."

They continued to move up in the line, even as the two children chasing the goat came barreling past. All talk turned to that subject for a little while. "This one wonders if her lazy husband will get her a gift this year. That one is flirting with Bastian." Indeed, their guide was there, working his magic.

"That one is..." He stopped and listened more intently, and Roslyn could feel a slight draw of the Gift. "One of those two men is saying that the land for the new cathedral is cursed - the Frickmayer curse - and that is behind the disappearances." He paused and listened again. "The other says that they found something they should not have and were murdered. Both agree that there are many hidden things in this town." Johann furrowed his brow as they move dup again, nearly to the front. "They do not sound very bright, but their sentiments..." he trailed off. Bastian wiggled his brows at them as he walked away with a cider of his own and two giggling young women waving his way. "Zwei minuten," he mouthed. "Same place."

Then, Johann and Roslyn were at the front of the line and a small, pleasant-looking chap with a festive hat, round eyeglasses, and a bery large handlebar mustache was peering pleasantly and expectantly at them, mug and ladel at the ready.

It took Roslyn a few moments before her eyes widened with realization. Oh... She placed a knuckle on her lips and stifled a budding giggle. With anyone else, it might've been awkward. She gently patted his arm and gave him a reassuring smile about his true meaning.

When they moved, she listened to him translate. At mention of the two men rating certain assets of hers, she bit her lip and crossed her arms over her chest. "Sounds like you didn't like what you heard. I didn't beat you, did I?" She teased softly.

Drinking in the information passed to her, Roslyn started to sort it out in her head. Her thoughts were interrupted when the children chasing the goat barreled past. With a small and quick spell, she focused her kinetic to slow the little creature down for them. She might have to help if they were still struggling. It was the drawing from Johann that caught her attention. Her eyes turned to him as he spoke of a curse.

"Frickmayer curse? I suppose superstition makes for good gossip." Roslyn had been reminded of what Zarina and Marceline said after their sword training.

She had little time to dwell on it when their turn came. Her glanced at Johann to translate as she ordered. "Two hard apple ciders, please. How much are they?" Her hand slipped into her lap purse and began looking for the proper coins.

They had been bantering back and forth: an exchange in good humour between friends.... of a sort. "There is all manner of scuttlebutt in a town like this." Johann shook his head slightly. "Though it also speaks to the prevalence of a belief. From my experience," he suggested, "those always have some basis." He took a moment to stroke his chin. "I just wonder what it is."

Then, they were at the front. The great clock above the dyer's guild, and its opposite over the watchmakers' guild, had ticked thirteen more minutes by. Johann placed a gentle hand on her arm and reached into his coinpurse instead. "The promise was enough," he chuckled, "I wanted it anyway and I have money to burn these days." He took a moment to translate her order and the mustachioed man glanced between them. "Pärchen-Special?" he asked. Strangely, Johann didn't translate that one. He merely shook his head quickly and reached for his money.

Roslyn knew what Johann meant and found herself agreeing. It was something to keep an eye out for during the investigation. When he touched her arm, she paused and heard him decline her offer.

"All right, if you insist. However, next time I'll fight you on paying." She closed up her coin purse slowly while he placed their order. Spotting the look and recognizing one word, she noticed he didn't translate.

Waiting for the ciders to be served, she inquired about the meaning of Pärchen. "I recognized one word, but I'm not sure about the other one. Parchin?"

She frowned at her tongue stumbling over the word. "I really should've focused on learning Kerreman. Been to the country twice already and I haven't managed to learn the basics."

Johann held his cup to his lips and his expression was inscrutable behind it.
"Mystery is the spice of life, Miss Wicke," he responded, "and many do not find Kerreman such an easy tongue to master. Now," he suggested, "we drink and we walk, yes?"

All of the others seemed to be gathered. They were the last, and it would not do to hold things up unduly.

"Very well, keep your secret." Her lips pursed before she sighed and her expression relaxed. She took a drink of the cider. The familiar burn went down her throat and warmed her insides against the cold. "True, but even a few words can help. I hate struggling to communicate or feeling like I'm not heard."

She pulled from the stand and followed him. "Of course. It seems everyone's done shopping and mingling."

The Zimmerman Household

It did not take them long to gather and, then, they were on their way. "We're taking the bridge," Bastian mentioned, as the five of them continued along. "Zimmerman's on the other side." There was a great tree - bare for the cold months - that sat in a small parkette with a well and benches around it, and a jeweler's shoppe that they passed. Then, they were crossing a handsome stone bridge of relatively recent construction. "It replaced the previous one three years ago," Johann mentioned.

"Ja, and it was a mess the whole way," added Bastian. "At least ze finished product was worth it." He shrugged, stretching and rolling his neck as they walked. He cut a rakish figure with his hair, his clothes, and the sword hanging from his hip. One sensed that he knew how to use it, as well.

"The height of the arches- and the width - " remarked Johann, "allows midsized merchantmen to pass under. It was a must for a town that relies on its port so much these days." He glanced down and lingered appreciatively on the view for a few seconds. Indeed, below them, the river still flowed, in places. Most of the fishing boats had been pulled up on land for the season, along with some smaller merchant craft, placed in drydock or storage in large sheds that lined the riverfront. The pier was built of heavy stone and timber, likely to survive the stresian breakup. A handful of sturdy craft, with iron or copper-lined bows, still sat at dock, a couple of sailors aboard one hacking away at the encroaching ice with long poles before it could grow too thick or hold fast to their hulls.

On the opposite bank rose a series of houses and, in the near distance, the steeple of a church. "Our place is just up there," Bastian advised, pointing to a handful of houses just across the wide muddy road from the house of worship. Exactly which had belonged to the recently-missing Ernst Zimmerman was not entirely clear. They walked for a few more minutes past a wooden church carefully hand carved in the Old Drudgunzean style, echoes of the Old Gods still evident in its craftsmanship, even if it had been built once upon a time by newly-converted and enthusiastic Quentists. An equally ancient cemetery lay beside it under the shade of a great gnarled yew tree.

The houses here were a bit further apart than they had been near the town centre proper. In front of one of them, a pair of boys, busy playing, looked up and quickly dashed inside. Bastian stopped. "That's ze place," he said quietly, waiting for them to form up. "Ernst's wife is named Sarah. She is a good woman, but she has been... struggling. I suggest we don't overwhelm her."

It was as they were deciding who would approach first, with Bastian, when the door opened of its own accord. A disheveled woman in dirty, ill-fitting skirts came tumbling out at them, a trio of young children clustering around the doorframe behind her, peering out with wide eyes that were a mixture of curious and dulled. "Bastian!" came her high-pitched voice as she rushed right up to him, shooting cursory glances at the others. "Bastian! Hast du etwas gefunden? Hast du meinen Ernst gefunden?" From her eyes and her demeanour, it was clear that she had been both crying and drinking. "Du hast gute Neuigkeiten, nicht wahr? Du sagtest, du würdest kommen, wenn du gute Neuigkeiten hättest!" Briefly, her eyes found the four youths who had accompanied the one familiar face and... they seemed evaluative to someone perceptive enough, for just a flicker of time.

"This is sad," said Johann quietly. "She misses her husband and is begging for good news. She is desperate for it and delusional."

"Yeah. At least she's not isolated herself in a room." Roslyn replied with the same measure of volume. With a deep breath, she then added. "Only 'good' news we can give is that we're here to help. I wish we had something better."

This part wasn't going to be easy, but it needed to be done.

She stepped forward and came to rest beside Bastian, a small supportive gesture. There was also hope he might translate for her and in a way that might soften what she had to say.

"Hello, you must be Miss Sarah Zimmerman. We were told a bit about you and how you were faring. My name is Roslyn Wicke. We,"she gestured to her fellow students, "were sent to help with the investigation. I am sorry to sound insensitive, but we were hoping to ask you some questions. I know you've done this before and if you would rather decline, it is understandable."

She tried to sound as sympathetic and kind as she could. However, there was no right way to speak of this. Roslyn's eyes shifted to the children peeking out then back to the mother, wondering if they managed to eat enough. Or ate at all.

Sarah Zimmerman's eyes darted between Bastian and this foreign girl who stood in front of her now with a sweet voice and foreign words. More words came tumbling out of her, but Bastian did not deign to translate them. "Du bist hier, um diesen Fall durchzuwinken, nicht wahr? Du willst ihm am liebsten den Sargdeckel zuknallen!"

Johann could not reach Roslyn without seeming rude, but he leaned into Ingrid and Marco. "She says we are here to rubber stamp this case and slam the lid shut on her husband's coffin," he whispered.

"Oh, was soll ich tun? Was kann ich nur tun? Und diese Kinder: Sie verhungern!"

"Oh, what will I do? What can I possibly do? And these children: they're starving," Johann said quietly, btu loudly enough for Roslyn to hear.

"Frau Zimmerman, ich weiß, das ist schwierig, aber versuchen Sie bitte, beim Thema zu bleiben." Bastian grimaced as he spoke. "Diese jungen Leute sind den ganzen Weg von der Akademie gekommen, um bei dem Fall zu helfen." Momentarily, he twisted to translate for Roslyn, even as Johann did the same for the others, with less paraphrasing. "I was telling her that I know this is hard but to stay on topic. You're here from the academy to -"

"Wenn Sie so talentierte Leute hierher gebracht haben, warum suchen sie dann nicht nach meinem Mann?" Sarah interrupted, her voice almost a wail. "Then shouldn't you be using these talented peopole to look for my husband? she says."

Two of the children disappeared from the doorway. Another cowered, just in sight. A boy who Ingrid might've recognized from the market lingered somewhere by the hearth, tending to a pot with his similarly-aged sister.

Bastian, exhausted, rubbed at the bridge of his nose and let out a long sharp sigh. "Sie suchen nach ihm, Sarah, aber glauben Sie nicht, dass sie zuerst von Ihnen hören müssen?"

Johann took over translation duties. "They're looking for him, Sarah, but don't you think they need to hear from you first?"

She crossed her arms and then reached up with a jerky motion to sweep some disheveled hair from her eyes. "Weißt du, diese Baustelle war nicht sicher. Es war dieser Feskerriecher, Krauss. Er trieb alle ständig an, schneller zu arbeiten, und mein Ernie war zu lieb und sanft, um Nein zu sagen." She shook her head tightly, trying to soften her expression for Roslyn. "Was soll ich nur ohne meinen Mann tun? Alle kümmern sich nur um diese blöde Kathedrale, als würde sie dieser Kleinstadt plötzlich Bedeutung verleihen? Kann sie mir meinen Ernst zurückbringen?"

Johann swallowed and looked uncomfortable. 'What will I do without my husband, she says." He folded his arms. "Everyone's only concerned with this stupid cathedral, as if it will suddenly make this small town important? Can it bring my Ernst back?"

Roslyn might've not understood the words, but she knew the tone. Her brother had used it often when circumstances were beyond his control and he couldn’t fix them. A stab of guilt hit her heart as she realized she might’ve put Bastian into a difficult position. Especially since he didn’t translate the words for her.

She kept her expression fixed with a calm one, ignoring the discomfort crawling up her skin. She considered the stipend they got from the school and wondered if giving up some of her share might be enough to help. At least for a day or two, they wouldn’t have to worry about food. It might release a burden from her mind and earn some goodwill with the family. Before she could ask the others, Ingrid spoke up behind her.

Ingrid was sympathetic to the woman's cries and desperation. The school had constantly exposed her to the plights of people she would never see otherwise. She felt little comfort but she picked up on things as the woman shared her woes and the burden that is being placed on her.

Ingrid placed a hand on Johann's arm, letting him know she was going to speak, the trout seemed inappropriate right now. "If your children are hungry let them eat sweetbread for now and the rest will be taken care of, isn't that right Bastian." She offered the sweetbread purchased by Marco to the mother, giving a quick glance Bastian's way to just agree.

"You are quite right Mrs. Zimmerman, we are here to investigate the disappearances so the cathedral may finish. However, I don't plan on rubber stamping until we have tried. I'm sure your help will bring good fortune come Caldores." She now glanced Johann's way.

Roslyn’s eyes flashed the Eskandish woman a grateful look for her aid and nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure a Caldores charity can be organized to benefit them," Bastian agreed, surprisingly sheepish for the time being. This, Johann eagerly translated into Kerreman for the grieving widow.

For her part, Sarah dashed forward to accept the gift, hands grasping and clawlike. "Danke," she remembered to say, "Vielen Dank!" she breathed. Behind her, another small head poked out, eyes seizing upon the sugary treat.

Then, from the back room, came the voice of a preteen or young teen boy - Ingrid would recognize him as Hanno, from earlier. "Hier, Mama. Lass mich das für dich nehmen." His voice, while helpful, held an undertone that seemed... misplaced, almost... insistent.

"Nein, Hanno. Mir geht’s gut. Ich behalte es erstmal."

"Ich werde es Constanze und den anderen Kindern geben," he said firmly. Her eyes darted between her son and her unexpected guests, and she handed it over with some hesitation. "She thanks us for the food and her son offers to take it. She says that she is fine and will take it. he wants to feed it to the children and she gives it to him," Johann summed up succinctly.

"Also, was möchten Sie wissen?" she asked, leaning intently but uncomfortably against the doorframe. "So, what would you like to know?" Johann translated.

Marco approached from behind and gave Johann a tap on the arm. ”Her husband. I want to know what and where his job was, and where he was supposed to be going the day he went missing. It may sound redundant to her, but the vague briefing we have on the missing persons case wasn't much for us to go on.”

Johann and Bastian tripped over each other in translating, the former winning out while the latter settled for standing just off to the side, looking tough and somewhat sympathetic. Meanwhile, in the background, Hanno began to disburse some of the sweetbread to his younger siblings, keeping some more judiciously in reserve once each had taken a piece.

"Mein Mann heißt Ernst. Er ist Steinmetz," she began calmly. "My husband's name is Ernst. He is a stonemason."

"Die Stadt erlebt seit zehn Jahren einen Aufschwung, und er hat an vielen Projekten mitgearbeitet, in den letzten drei bis vier Jahren vor allem am Dom."

"The city has been booming for ze past ten years, and he's worked on many projects, but mostly on ze cathedral in the last three or four."

Her eyes flicked uncertainly between these powerful young foreigners, but Johann offered an encouraging nod and smile. "Ich wusste, dass bei der Arbeit etwas nicht stimmte, aber er wollte nicht darüber reden."

"She says that she knew something was wrong at work, but he didn't want to talk about it," Johann took over translating.

"Manchmal ging er trinken, aber nicht oft. Ich dachte, dass er vielleicht seinen Kummer im Dancing Boots ertränkte." She pulled into herself, shrugging uncertainly.

"Sometimes he went out drinking, but not often." Bastian had reclaimed his role as translator. "I thought maybe he was drowning his sorrows at the Dancing Boots."

She started, for a second, and furrowed her brow. "Er ist oft mit diesem ... Idioten Florian nach Hause gelaufen, weil unser Haus auf dem Weg zu seinem liegt." She paused. "Ich hoffe, das hilft." She gestured toward Bastian. "Ich habe ihm und dem angebunden Mädchen das alles bereits erzählt."

"I hope that helps." Johann had taken back the mantle. "I have told him and the tethered girl all of this already." He pursed his lips. "I assume she is speaking of Edith."

"I was hoping for more when I asked what was known." Roslyn commented when she caught Marco's statement. She noticed the mother's hesitation over passing the bread to the oldest boy. It struck her as odd, especially her hesitation and his insistence over it. As if he didn't trust her.

She waited until Marco's questions were answered before presenting her own. She noticed Florian's name come up which was one of the missing. " What was that about Florian?"

There was a long pause as Marco silently absorbed the information that was being revealed to him. He absently tapped his index finger against his forehead, trying his best to commit the woman's words to memory while drawing any connections he could between her husband, the cathedral, and the mysterious weapons researchers he met in the town square today. Something was clearly very wrong with this entire project, but they still didn't know enough. They needed more leads.

”Did her husband have any friends at work who haven't gone missing yet? Any drinking buddies?”

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Johann, body language immediately apologetic, "She mentioned that Florian and Herr Zimmerman often walked home together, since this house is on the way to the other's. My apologies."

Then, came Marco's follow-up question, which Bastian was quick to translate. Meanwhile, to those perceptive enough, Hanno seemed to disappear from view and, at around that moment, there was the clunk of a door closing somewhere nearby.

"Oh, er hatte viele: Jens, Friedrich, Otto, Jürgen ..." She trailed off, eyes darting nervously around before settling. "Manchmal kam er ein oder zwei Tage nicht nach Hause." She shook her head. "Ich weiß, dass er ihnen Dinge erzählt hat, die er mir niemals erzählen würde.."

"She listed his work friends: Jens, Friedrich, Otto, and Jürgen," offered Johann, "and claims that, sometimes, he didn't come home for a day or two. She says she knows he told them things he would never tell her."

Then, from the kitchen, Roslyn and Ingrid both noticed something: young Constanze, all of ten or eleven, nostrils flaring for a moment as she glared at her mother. The look subsided and the girl turned and darted away so quickly that it almost seemed as if the Hendlishwoman and her peer had imagined the entire thing.

Sarah continued to speak and Bastian and Johann to take turns translating. "She claims that zey are all around, at zeir usual spot - Die Tanzstiefel - but zat none of them have offered her any help. She needs money to pay for things and, suddenly, zose fairweather friends are gone. She goes on to say that she should try to bring the architect, zat dirty Feskan, to court for running an unsafe workplace."

Marco looked between Johann and Bastian and licked his lips. ”If what our fair lady says is true, then we should have a word with those four. Rumors and hearsay between drinking buddies are better than no leads at all. Where can we find Die Tanzstiefel?”

Bastian blinked. He looked uncertain for a moment and then he let out a bark of laughter and grinned, slapping Marco on the back. "You had me going zere for a moment," he admitted, for Die Tanzstiefel was, of course, the inn where they would be staying.

Johann remembered to thank Frau Zimmerman and reassure her that help was in the pipeline. Then, he twisted to regard Marco. "We still have Frau..." He trailed off.

"Oh, Margit," Bastian interjected helpfully.

"Yes, her to question." He arched an eyebrow. "I would say we should get going, but where are the women?"

Marco's held a fist in front of his mouth as he tried not to laugh out loud. Bastian's reaction made him aware of the mistake he had just made. It was becoming difficult to remember all of these Kerreman names. ”I'm not sure. Maybe they decided to play house with the kids.”

Johann looked unsure of what to do, for a moment far from his usual jolly competent self. "Should we... go there?"

Marco replied with a shrug. ”I suppose we can get a head start. If they can't find a signature as big as ours in such a small town I'd say they should be worried about getting their diplomas.” He turned to the mother and excused himself with a shallow bow. ”Madam, thank you for your time. We will be going. I promise that we will find your husband...” Marco chewed on his tongue. He nearly said 'alive or dead', but saying the latter aloud might land him in hot water. ”...Or any clues that may point to his whereabouts, and we will not leave until we do. While Lindenholdt's civil servants may be trapped by a web of responsibilities, finding those missing people is my only concern. May the gods smite me if I tell a lie.”

"I... tank you, zir." Sarah swallowed, glancing behind herself. She dabbed with her apron at some of the tears. "Bitte finde meinen Ernst. Ohne ihn bin ich verloren." She hugged herself as three or four young children played in the background. That was the last view they had of her before the door closed and they were on their way.

"Frau Weber lives just up zis way." It was well into the hours of Oraff, and the sun glistened off of snow-speckled fields. "Really out at ze very edge of town." He shook his head. "In theory, Florian was a farmer."

Marco nodded along while looking this way and that. He was half focused on what Johann was saying, and half on the scenery. It was nice to enjoy the sights for a change without keeping your eyes peeled for something trying to kill him. If their reason for visiting Lindenholdt wasn't so depressing, this trip would have actually been a nice mental break before everything inevitably went to the birds. It was only going to go downhill from here.

”And in practice?”

"In practice, his father, who had sold the family's weaving business to buy land, did not properly rotate his... ernten." Bastian looked Johann's way. "Crops," the other Kerreman contributed, and the first nodded. "So, basically, the soil is..." "depleted," "and Florian grew up with half ze skillset of a weaver and half ze skillset of a farmer and no land to work." Bastian shook his head. "But he was a big fellow, and strong, so he found odd jobs and worked those and spent what he had left on booze."

They continued for a few moments longer and the deputy was silent. Then, he swallowed and shook his head. "He beat her - repeatedly and severely, and it will look like she had motive, but she did not do it." He shook his head. "I know Margit. She is a few years older zan me, but I have known her since we were children." Bastian scowled. "I warned her not to marry Florian because he was fucked up, but he knocked her up and, if she did not marry him, zis town would've looked upon her as a whore. She is bitter about ze entire thing, but doesn't have a...boshaft -"

"Spiteful"

"- bone in her body." With that, he fell silent, and Johann's eyes searched for Marco's.

They were traveling past the edge of a cemetery now. The great twin steeples of Dom St. Adelheid rose in the distance, just across the river, and the bare branches of a great elm spread just beyond the headstones and a small crypt. The fields lay in stillness and silence for the winter as the sun, lower and golden, now, sparkled on snowdrifts. Up ahead, in the distance, lay one last house, its roof slightly bowed, an old wagon half-broken, resting beside a tree nearby. They were, perhaps, another two minutes' walk out.

---

Ingrid nodded along with the number of complaints the mother had. She had a feeling about the mother but didn't say a word. Her eyes kept finding Hanno until it didn't, a small clunk of the door told her where he had went. The children's seemed resentful of there mother, or maybe off put by her. Ingrid tugged on the Roslyn's finger and whispered to her, "let's try to talk to Hanno, he seems to have some sense about him." Ingrid politely excused herself to look around.

Feeling the small tug on her finger, Roslyn caught Ingrid's look. She had seen the same thing her friend had and flashed a knowing smile. Without a word, she let herself fade into the background and followed suit. Her hand reached into her skirt pocket as her fingers brushed her compass.

They didn't have to look far. "Aber sie lügt über Vater! Sie lügt und du sagst nichts!?" Constanze was laying into her brother, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Ich weiß," he admitted, "es ist nur so... sie ist alles, was uns noch bleibt. Wir brauchen sie, zumindest bis wir alt genug sind, um es alleine zu schaffen."

"Aber sie ist eine beschissene Mutter. Sie trinkt nur, gibt unser ganzes Geld aus und gibt Vater die Schuld." She slumped against the rear wall of the house, fists clenched in helpless anger.

Hanno reached over and wrapped an arm around her from the size, and little Constanze leaned into it. "Tut mir leid, Schwesterherz," he offered, as she snuggled into his shoulder. "Ich wünschte, ich könnte mehr tun, aber was würden Dieter, Dora, Elli und Stefan tun?"

It was at that moment that they noticed the two interlopers.

They came upon them and the speak trout in the bag shot to life when their voices reached a peak. It swam and danced as it started to translate.

"mother. She just drinks, spends all our money and blames father. I'm sorry, sister. I wish I could do more, but what would Dieter, Dora, Elli and Stefan do?"

Ingrid listened to it the speak trout. She looked at the two of them and handed it over to them. "Hanno, you and your sister can speak and this will translate. Now is your chance to tell us while your mother talks to the men. I know we can help." The trout continued its game and translated it to Kerreman.

"I forgot how loud that thing was..." Roslyn blurted out as the trout translated her words. She smiled softly at the children as she couldn't hide the sheepish look. "Sorry, we saw you two head out and decided to follow."

"So, I guess you heard everything," said Hanno, his words filtered through the fish but not his voice. He rolled his eyes with a hint of resentment.

Constanze, however, was curious. "That's pretty helpful," she admitted, eyes flicking to the magical mounted trophy fish. Likely, she had never seen anything quite like it. "Just don't let mother see it," she added with a growl. "She'll probably try to sell it for money." The girl rolled her eyes.

"What did you wanna know?" Hanno asked guardedly, arms crossed, halfway interposed between the semi-familiar pair and his younger sister. His eyes, like Constanze's flicked towards the rear door with fear, resentment, and expectation all at once.

Why do older brothers feel the need to protect their sisters? Roslyn wondered then dismissed the thought, moving onto more important matters. "On the day before your father disappeared, was he acting strangely or doing something out of the normal?"

Hanno opened his mouth to answer and Constanze shot him a look, but his eyes widened and he continued. "He said that Uncle Florian had seen something while they were down on inspection and almost quit on the spot. He was... frustrated with Mr. Krauss, who wouldn't believe him, though he secretly wasn't sure if he believed Uncle Florian either."

Constanze shot her brother a second demonstrative incredulous look and he curled and uncurled his fingers, eyes darting between his sister, the door, and the two newcomers with the magical fish that spoke all languages.

Roslyn pressed her fingers to her chin. "Well, we have a few friends checking out the cathedral. And that is strange."

Noticing the girl looking at the door, she had to make a comment. "If I get a feeling anyone's about to come through that door, I can make it... jam."

She took a deep breath then considered what else to ask. "Do you happen to know where your father was heading the last time you saw him?"

The two children glanced at each other. "We'll have to go soon," Hanno warned. "She'll be coming, and we need to live with her. Don't worry," he quickly added. "I'm big enough now that she won't hit." He paused and glanced at the ground. "Not that she really does that."

"He was headed to work," Constanze blurted. "He said he needed to face the problem and, if it went well, we might have money for oranges and new stockings at Caldores. If it didn't..." She looked down at her shoes and clenched her fists. Her eyes flicked back up. "Florian was there. Neither of them ever made it back."

"I'm sorry for our mother," Hanno cut in suddenly. "She is not always like this, but with what happened to dad -"

Constanze turned her eyes on him and, for a moment, he nearly stopped, but he didn't. "She's gotten worse and I don't know if she'll stop this time. Don't give her money, whatever you do."

Roslyn tensed at Hanno's first statement, then immediately relaxed. She couldn't imagine an adult having a reason to ever hit a child. The very idea boiled her blood as she forced herself calm. "I'm sorry to say grief can bring out the worst in a person. It seems like your mother uses drinking to cope with it, but it doesn't stop the pain. Just numbs it."

There was clear remorse in her voice at knowing that effect firsthand. She stepped closer to Constanze and gently put her hand on the girl's shoulder. A hug would've been better, but Roslyn didn't want to overstep her boundaries. "Well, I'm sure we can still bring some oranges and stocks tomorrow. With some luck, and the help you provided, maybe we'll find out what happened."

She then added. "If you two recall anything else, have information that might help, or simply need someone to talk to. We're staying at the Die Tanzstiefel. Just ask if Roslyn Wicke or Ingrid Penderson is in. We'll come running if we are." She looked at Ingrid to see if she wanted to ask anything before the kids took off.

Ingrid kept one eye on the door, watching with the other 2 as a way of hopefully settling the nerves of the siblings. Luckily, Roslyn was on the ball and asked the right questions, lending us some foreboding statements, promises of cash, and narrowed timeframe of their disappearance. She nodded approvingly to the snow mouse's job. She would tell her great job later.

Or so she thought until she sympathized with the mother in front of Hanno who was desperate to make excuses for his mother. Ingrid had wallowed, she had struck out of grief. It doesn't excuse her actions nor wipe what those children see. Ingrid kneeled down to face Hanno and Constanze in the eyes. "I know you say that it is not her style but hear me, if that changes, you take you siblings to Die Tanzstiefel or another adult you trust." She placed a gentle hand on Constanze cheek, "You all hurt, that much is clear, but she has no right to hurt you," she looked at Hanno, taking the fish, "You are the eldest man of your house for now, safeguard your siblings. I know you know that." A few magus passed into his hand when the trout was taken.

She stood back up, knowing that the mother would soon be back. She couldn't just remove the children to assure their safety. She was not in Eskand where she could lift a child out of struggle with some minor action. All she could do was be ready when they truly called out for the help. She'd best let Bastian know about this.

Constanze flinched away instinctively from the touch before stopping herself. Hanno accepted the magi with wide eyes. He had never held one in his life. His sister leaned in, equally dumbstruck. "I will take good care of it," he promised, clenching the unusual coins in his hand. "Let me have one," Constanze insisted and after a moment of thought, he passed it to her. "Constanze," he said, in a serious voice, "Do not -"

"Tell anyone," she interrupted. "I know."

"Are you..." Hanno swallowed, glancing from the coins in his palm to the two women. "Real mages?"

Then, there were footsteps approaching the door from the other side and he shoved the coins into his pants while Constanze tucked hers into her dress. "You should go now!" the boy declared, in an urgent whisper. "She's coming," hissed the girl.

"We'll be fine - trust me," said Hanno. Constanze was already taking up a broom and sweeping away snow. He was making for the firewood stacked under a lean-to. Within two seconds, the children were convincingly busy with housework.

Ingrid got up and wiped her dress clean, taking a final look at the children. There was an unease in her chest yet she didn't show it. She started to turn, hearing the coming footsteps.

"We are mages of Ersand'Enise," Ingrid lightly grasped Roslyn's hand and flicked off the speaktrout. "Support yourself with some arcane, we are walking out of here with grace." The light weaved a net around the 2, fading their image away from the snowy field. For all, they were simply gone.

Roslyn would've been lying if she said Constanze's reaction didn't tug hard at her heart. It had to be hard to accept a caring gesture after being independent for so long. A part of her wanted to shake some sense into the children's mother. However, this wasn't her home country and she had to exercise some self control. She watched the siblings stare in wonder over the coin given to them until their time ended.

"Can do." As Ingrid provided the light, Roslyn contrasted with a bit of shadows. As their images darkened and then faded, she pressed a single finger to her lips. Her right eye winked with a mischievous smirk.

The boy and the girl looked at the space where the two mages had been and then at each other with secret smiles of wonder. Then, the door opened and their mother was carrying little Franziska with an admonishment on her lips. She saw that they were hard at work, however, and left them alone with a grunted 'danke'.

Now, ahead of Ingrid and Roslyn, stretched the countryside beyond Lindenholdt. It was barren fields, a few hay bales covered in a white frosting of snow, and stoic silent trees. To one side lay further farms and, beyond them, forest. To the other was a graveyard with a great bare elm tree and a small family crypt and, beyond it, a few houses, the half-frozen river, and the towering spires of Dom St. Adelheid. Ahead, were the three men and their destination: a single house on a small farm at the very edge of town, it appeared. It would not be beyond Ingrid and Roslyn to catch up.

Once the pair had made it out of the children's hearing range, she chanced a glance back and then said. "I swear, I'm gonna shake some sense into that woman before we leave here. Just for those children's sake. Now let's go find the boys."

"Isn't that the truth, though I imagine the only thing that will help with this would be finding her husband to keep her straight." Ingrid said offhandedly as they took some large heroic steps to Marco and the others.

The Webber Household

Seeing them, Ingrid dropped the refractory of light, now far and away from Mrs. Zimmerman. "Apologies boys, we were busy establishing the International House of Sweetbread. Quite informative our collaborators were. Much to share."

Johann offered up a smile. "The children will be okay?" he inquired with subtle knowing. Then, the door to the house ahead opened and a woman stepped out, lighting some sort of pipe or rolled cigarette. She noticed them mere moments later, glancing back at the house and then at them. She did not move to greet the oncoming group but nor did she seem hostile.

"Yes, I think so for now." Was all Roslyn managed to get out when a woman came out. The smoke wisped from her cigarette as she seemed to notice them. Her eyes shifted between the house and then them, seemingly inviting them to take it inside.

"Well, let's get this over with. Johann, help me?" Roslyn asked before she stepped forward as she politely introduced herself.

"Hello, I'm Roslyn Wicke and we," Again her hand gestured to her fellow students, "were sent from the academy to help with the investigation of some missing men. We are hoping to ask you some questions."

Unlike Sarah, this woman didn't seem to be falling apart. At least on the outside.

The woman stood in the doorway, blowing a stream of smoke in the general direction of the newcomers, but not right at them. "Ja, I know who you are," she replied in heavily-accented Avincian. For a split second, her eyes snapped to Bastian's and his to hers. Something passed between them, though the nature of it was not clear. "You seem very... enthusiastisch." She pulled from her cigarette again and tapped it, a little stream of glowing ashes trickling away into the light afternoon breeze.

She exhaled. "You are here about mein mann, richtig?" She arched a brow expectantly. "We should be proper folk und shake hands, no?" She held hers out to any who would take it. "Margit Weber, born Grünewald. Und Sie sind?"

In the background, a cat leapt off of a shelf and skittered out the door. A girl of about eleven knitted by the fireplace. Someone was out back, chopping firewood rather clumsily.

"Ah, yes. My rich cousins, most likely." Her eyes darted to Bastian again. "Vielleicht they can help a fresh-made widow," she snorted, waving away a bit of lingering smoke."Florian was happy only when he was with his friends, you must know." She shook her head. "He had lost another job and I was ready to use our savings again - whatever we had."

She took a break to smoke again, as the girl by the fireplace glanced outside glumly. Margit twisted to shoot her a tired, supportive look before turning back. "Listen: so we can understand each ozer, I will say zis honestly: we were not happy. He told me little unless it was very good or very bad." She swallowed, gazing out into the afternoon sky for a moment. "Zat morning, he told me he would get his job back, with extra pay and zen we would make a baby zat night." She shrugged and took another puff. "When he didn't come to Die Tanzstiefel that night -" She exhaled, pairing it with a bitter laugh, "I was thinking Ipten saved me and he was off at another place because it was cheaper or he felt some shame, for once."

She tapped the cigarette again and its ashes drifted free. "It was going to end in a bad way," she remarked, "Always, right from ze start." She threw the butt of it away and regarded her young visitors evenly. "Much like everything my husband touched."

Roslyn caught the brief look between the deputy and the woman, but she didn't know what to make of it. Not yet. She relaxed when she realized the woman spoke Avincian even with a heavy accent. Unlike Sarah, Margit gave an aura of jadeness. Someone that accepted the hardships no matter what form they came in.

As the woman answered Ingrid's question, Roslyn followed up with another. "Did he ever mention how he lost his job?"

Margit nodded. "Oh, it was a fight with that Feskan, Krauss." She scowled. "He is just like Hartmann, before him." She crossed her arms and leaned, once more, against the doorframe. In the back, there was a pause in the chopping. Inside the house, the girl had risen from her knitting to head for the pantry. "He did 'safety inspections' so that nobody could say he had a dangerous way, but zey never did anything. It was just a show. He only cared about his building and getting it finished on time."

She sighed, brushing some stray locks of hair from her eyes. "Ze work was not safe and Florian wouldn't take it anymore. Oh, he only cared about ze more pay he could get, but he was right. He pulled poor Ernst with him and..." She trailed off and shrugged. "Listen," she assured them, "I wish I knew more, but I don't. Ze less that my... husband spoke to me, ze better." She sighed again, fiddling a bit with her sleeves. "Now, ze hour grows late and I have a job to get to soon."

She glanced back in as the rear door closed and a teenage boy thumped in with some firewood to lay down by the hearth. His sister hurried over to help him. "Emma," she called, "Hans?" They looked up. "Hast du deinen Bruder gesehen?"

Johann leaned in to translate: "Have you seen your brother?"

She was met with twin responses of 'nein' and shaken heads, and she twisted back to face the investigators. "I will not let zem work, or zey will get into trouble, like Rudy." She rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "und like zeir father."

Bastian nodded in understanding. "Ugh. Reshta, we are needing ze answer soon. We need eizer ze insurance money or that man back." She shook her head, breath trembling a bit, and made the sign of the Pentad, rolling her eyes in frustration. "Orätz forgive how... gefühllos I sound." She scowled as the sun began to glare, low, through the small house's rear window. "I never meant to be zis way."

She straightened, then, patting down her dress and collecting herself. "I hope you find him, for ze children, if nothing else. Now," she concluded, "Is zere anything else?"

The bitterness of the woman was noted, so was her small glances to her daughter. She obviously cared for her despite the 'circumstances' around her birth, Ingrid could only assume. Though Ingrid didn't suspect her of the murder, it would be too obvious and the ground was already too hard to dig. Unless she had help from Bastian or another man with the gift. Plus her story cooperated with what they heard from the children and why Mr. Zimmerman went out. Things are leading to the cathedral and we have a time frame for when. Most likely Mr. Zimmerman got pulled into the business of Florian. Krauss seemed to be the central suspect at this time.

"You are a smart woman, sending children to work too early only makes bitter adults. So can we ask about Rudy? If he is already working and like his father, then he might be worth questioning him about his father. We will do our best to have either outcome by the end of Caldores." Ingrid secretly prayed for the latter. The outcome of a forced, loveless marriage had been her reality 2 years ago, might still be if her parents have any say.

Margit shrugged. "He... works in his own way," she allowed, "but it is not good work and he is often away." She paused, half-turned, and did nto take her next step away. "Thank you for your honest help with zis," she said. "If you see him, maybe you will be able to put some sense into his head."

She shrugged and there was a quick exchange between her and Bastian. Johann's eyes widened slightly, but he paraphrased for the others. "Bastian must spend a little time with her here, speaking about another matter."

He furrowed his brow, remembering back to the constable's station and an incident with a 'Junge Herr Weber' over there. He looked to Marco, Roslyn, and Ingrid to see if they might remember as Bastian made his apologies and promised that he would be along shortly.

Ingrid nodded, accepting she wouldn't be able to find anything on Rudy. She nodded that Bastian needed some private time and she wasn't one to interfere, "Then let us become scarce for a moment, besides, we have much to discuss." Ingrid thought she was on the ball and that they had solid leads until he brought up that Weber. She literally smacked herself on the head, "I had forgotten about that with all that had been learned. Thank you Johann."

"The drunk in the cell that Edith was watching? " Roslyn asked in a quiet tone, checking to see if she was on the same page. She had been tempted to sober him up for the officers, but

"Okay, what we learned from the children was helpful." She started to share the information they learned from the children. "Mrs. Zimmerman has been lying about her husband going out and drinking. It's her and with his disappearance, it's gotten worse."

She took a breath as she moved on from the unsavory note. "Mr. Zimmerman mentioned Mr. Weber had seen something during an inspection. Mr. Kauss didn't believe it. He went to work and to face the problem, but neither of them came back."

"Mr. Zimmerman went out with him and also believed that they would either end up with more money or nothing. We can guess which one ended up being the answer." Ingrid retold a little more.

"Maybe they went to coerce someone for more money and a dispute broke out and the suspect was the victor." Ingrid proposed a potential reasoning but had little to go off on there. "Florian seems loud, someone would have heard them at the cathedral and Klauss would know what Florian claimed to see. Maybe we could use it as a trap? If he says Florian and Ernst were just fine, then we know there is a lie being told."

"I'm not sure. I have a hard time seeing Zimmerman do that. Weber, maybe." Roslyn spoke softly, then added. "Before we start to look for more information, it might be smart to regroup with the others. They did go to the cathadrel."

”You’re right, we do need to regroup with the others.” Marco agreed with Roslyn, although he wasn’t looking directly at her. He was staring at the back of Bastian’s head as the deputy walked off to handle his own business. ”I think we’ve all picked up on quite a few clues, and once we know more about the cathedral I have a feeling we might be able to piece them all together.”

Marco suddenly placed his hands on the two girls shoulders and forcibly drew them closer. Before they could voice their surprise, he began to speak in a hushed tone, barely audible above the breeze unless their ears were close enough to feel his breath. The words passing through his lips were clearly for their ears only. ”This town is more dangerous than we knew. My countrymen are moving weapons through Lindenholdt. Weapons of war. Someone on the Kerreman side is complicit. Either the local government, or the crown itself.”

Marco’s eyes locked with Ingrid’s. ”I overhead three of them talking outside of the bakery. The project is top secret, and a massive amount of money is riding on it. If any documents or prototypes were being stashed in the bones of the cathedral and the missing men found them…” His words trailed off. He didn’t want to talk about this in the open for too long, and he was confident that their imaginations could fill in the blanks.

”Just keep an open mind, and don't be more honest than necessary when talking to the cops.” Marco’s voice returned to its normal volume. He gave the ladies a pat on the shoulders and let them dust themselves off. ”Until we have actual proof or reliable witness testimony, then what you have heard from me is only a theory relating to what might have happened. I just wanted you to be aware in case it becomes relevant to the investigation.”

Roslyn's eyes widened in shock at Marco pulling her in close. After hearing him reveal a theory about his fellow country men, she blinked in shock. These shadow games were getting unsettling. "That might explain one thing that Johann over heard. A few people think the Revidians are responsible for the disappearances, but I don't think they are."

Marco nodded his head back. "If you have your own ideas then all the better. The more theories we pursue in tandem, the more connections we can make to piece together the truth. It is good that the academy sent so many biros.

Last Minute Jaunt

Already, they had shared a great deal of information, but the sun was now waning in earnest as they crossed the barren fields and skirted the edge of the graveyard. Dom St. Adelheid glistened under the late afternoon sun, its long shadow cutting through the town, its beautiful stained glass windows - installed only a month or so ago - glowing a dozen colours.

In the distance, a wagon clattered down the road between a large farming complex and a distant mill, pursued by a stray dog. From somewhere along the Althern came the sound of hacking and chopping at ice. A handful of children played outside, doing their best to make snowballs with the early dusting of the stuff that Aun-Orätz had given them.

Before long, they had reached the large road that led to the bridge and back, shortly, to the majority of the town, across the river. The Weberplatz was starting to empty as they skirted the edge of it. The tree seller had packed up and left, as had the firewood vendor and her sulky son. The butcher's and the cobbler's were closed, and one of the bakeries was finishing up the last of its line while the proprietor of the other had just flipped the sign on her door to say, 'geschlossen'. A couple of fruit stands were still open, and the cider cauldron was still making a killing selling off the last of its product - possibly watered down - to people heading home for the evening. A few wagons waited towards the edges of the square as people hustled back and forth, loading them.

There was one remaining hive of activity, however, and it was a Kerreman tradition that at least some had heard of: a group of people had set up a large evergreen tree near the fountain - it had been there before, but not quite so prominent. Now, as sunset neared, they were decorating it with apples, flowers, garlands, and candles, the last of which floated, ethereal, through the air in the telekinetic grasp of some of the town's mages. Others were placed where they belonged in more traditional fashion: with the assistance of ladders, matches, and eager children.

"Up that way lies Die Tanzstiefel, where you will be staying" Bastian informed them, pointing up the street. "Probably ze oldest and most famous inn and tavern in ze town. You will know it from ze boots on its sign." He turned to gesture at the square. "Zey are decorating ze Tannenbaum, if you are curious." He sighed and smiled wistfully. "It is an old local tradition. Zey do it every night for ze ten days of Caldores and ze five before and after."

He seemed about ready to part with them, as a large wagon clattered quickly into the square. "I should get back to ze station. Grumpy old Karl needs to get home for ze night, after all!" With that he prepared to part with the group.

"Ooo, so pretty. I love how Caldores brings the best out in people." Roslyn commented, pausing to observe for a moment. She then noticed the others hadn't stopped and immediately hasten her step to keep up. Catching Bastian's mention about departing, she quickly thanked him before he vanished. "Thank you for your help."

She then turned to the others. "I suppose we should head to the inn? Its been a long day and there's no telling when the others will be back."

"Yeah, hopefully their investigation bore some results. Besides, I haven't ate since we got on that carriage." Ingrid patted her stomach to make a show of it.

"If I had known that, I would've offered half my cider. It's easy to get down and stays with you for a bit. Beer would've been better for a meal though." Roslyn commented.

<Hi. Sea. Giant.> she teased. <How. Did. Your. Search. Go.>
Ingrid felt the pinches and the nickname now made her feel warm to people. <GOOD. INFO. ALOT. YOU.> Ingrid used the pats on her stomach to hide her communication, it was honestly easier than duel casting.

"As good as beer is, I could use a sausage and pie after all this work today." Ingrid could practically taste it already.

Bastian was a good few paces down the road as Marceline's response came in. The sun burned bright and orange just above the rooftops.

<Archives. Close. In. Twenty. Minutes. | Can. You. Find. Sybille. Lorenz. | Ask. Her. For. Frickmayer. Birth. And. Death. Records. Marriage. Records. And. Cathedral. Construction. Payments. | Information. On. Frickmayer. Crypt. Would. Be. Good. Too.> There was a pause. <Pass. This. To. Rosy. Too. | I. Will. Pay. In. Beer. Schnitzel. And. Vague. Promises. Like. A. Good. Kerreman. | Heart. Shape.>

Ingrid's ability with pinch language wasn't the best, she didn't have many tethered friends, maybe she was off putting to them or pushing their wheelchair one time got around. Either way, Ingrid whipped out the cutest notebook and wrote quickly, using offhand symbols and methods to jot it down as quick as Marci told her. <ANY. THING. FOR. YOU. SPICY. DRUG. APPLE Ingrid didn't know a word for brandæble and even a less of a clue on low to do the special symbols.

Ingrid went up to Roslyn's ear and whispered, "Read this and follow my lead," she gave a wink and skipped to Bastian. "Oh Bastian," she called out to him, no more than a foot or two behind him. "I know it is already quite late but I do have one last stop I must make," she pleaded, batting her eyes at him. "I wish to stop by the archives, would you guide me there or give me some directions?" He would surely not say no to a pretty woman, would he?

Roslyn skimmed over the words and nodded. It seemed they had a task to do before retiring for the rest of the day as she twisted about and followed Ingrid.

Bastian paused. He tilted his head. Then, a smile came to his lips. "Why, zat's not a half-bad idea," he admitted, "though it is getting a bit late." He craned his neck and strained his eyes to check one of the clocks in the square. "Come on. We can make it." With that, he twisted, hurried down the main street that led off of the bridge, and broke into a light jog. "Are you coming, or not?" he teased.

Ingrid clapped her hands, "Oh thank you!" She jogged after him, a little slow at the start but got up to speed before long. She hoped to not outpace him. "Keep up snow mouse!" Ingrid called out to Rolsyn who was only a little behind her.
"Oh, that won't be a problem." Roslyn called back and made sure to keep her hand on her compass. She called back to the boys. "We're making a quick stop somewhere. We'll meet you back at the inn shortly!"

The sun dipped below the horizon and the already-falling temperature began to plummet without its direct warmth. Shadows that had threatened to consume everything now took their opportunity to pounce, and sunset became dusk.

By the time that Bastian, Ingrid, and Roslyn reached the archives - on a side street just around the corner from the town library - The midsized building was lit only by the last bits of remaining ambient light and a couple of lanterns. A smallish woman who bore a striking resemblance to Roslyn was bustling about, closing things up.

When they pushed open the door, she had just settled down by the lamp with a book. She started immediately, almost dropping her reading material in the process. Her eyes went to the clock on the wall, which she had wound five minutes prior. "Oh, uhm... hallo!" she ventured. "Es tut mir leid," she began apologetically, "aber wir schließen gleich für heute Abend..."

"Diese Mädchen sind Ausländerinnen, Sibylle. Sprich Avintz."

She blinked, scurrying out from behind her desk. "Oh, very sorry," she said, in some of the best Avincian they had heard so far from a local, "but we're closing in just five minutes, you see, and I'm not supposed to admit new visitors now." She shook her head. "You won't have time to finish your research anyhow, I fear." Her eyes flicked between the other two.

Roslyn rubbed the side of her arms as she chased away the chill of night. It was nice to be out of the cold and inside somewhere warm. At the gentle voice shifting from the native tongue to Avincian, she smiled at not needing a translator. "Oh, I'm sorry for the late hour. We were really hoping to make a request about a few records and information for the morning."

As she stepped closer, the voice held a strange familiarity that she couldn't place. She moved on. "Mainly the Frickmayer birth, death, and marriage records. As well as the cathedral construction payments and anything on the Frickmayer Crypts? If you wouldn't mind."

Ingrid gave a thumbs up to the twin mice. She read her hasty notes so well! Ingrid might need to hire her as a translator.

Sybille blinked, considering. She tilted her head. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "you must be those investigators from Ersand'Enise I've been hearing about." Her eyes went Bastian's way with some suspicion. He was leaning back against a low shelf, elbows resting on top of it. "Yup, you got it, Sybbi!" He picked at something between his teeth and remembered to flash the mousy girl a smile.

She shuddered.

"Anyhow," she continued, "you'll have to put in a records request." She glanced up at the clock, furrowed her brow, and scampered over to retrieve a trio of papers from some drawers. "We can save some time because three of your requests pertain to the same family. We'll consolidate those." She pulled a tray with four inkpots and quills from a space in the desk. "Vier minuten..." she mouthed. "Das ist alles sehr unregelmäßig."

Then, she cleared her throat, handed them the forms, and told them to pull up stools. "You may use Avincian," she allowed. "Please write legibly. Then, I will be able to serve your request first thing in the morning, unless Herr Beckenbauer declines it."

"Ze only thing he ever declines is remembering what he did five minutes ago," Bastian scoffed.

Sybille rolled her eyes. "Be that as it may, we have procedures here, and he is a part of them until such day as he retires."

"Okay, mum," came the reply.

"You know, Herr Schüttmann," the archivist suggested, "It has occurred to me that there are three forms and three of you. You would have a much better chance of finishing up on time were you to help these ladies."

With a groan, Bastian swung himself from the desk, took up a quill, and started writing. "I will handle ze crypts," he instructed. "It is a more... technisch -"

"Technical"

"thing," he concluded, shooting her a small glare. Did Sybille smirk in the direction of the other two women as they worked?

"Of course. I don't want to get anyone in trouble." Roslyn had already popped over to where she needed to sit. Upon hearing the banter between the two, she pulled up her hand to stifle a giggle. "I'll take the first three then. Ingrid, you want to take the payments?"

Ingrid giggled politely at the show of authority, "Danke, Sybille. Your grace is appreciated." Moving to the ledger, Ingrid began to write as she had done hundreds of time for the library at Ersand'Enise. "I can sign for that, I have a way with reading numbers."

The sound of pens on paper filled the air for the next four minutes. Ingrid finished up quickly, handing her paper to Sybille with a flourish. The mousy archivist read over it briefly, with a keen and judgmental gaze, before nodding. "Very good," she remarked, looking up with a small, appreciative smile before filing the form carefully away. "This will do nicely."

Bastian was next, stamping his down emphatically on the table before her. The inkpot trembled and her eyes shot to it before flicking up to glare at him in annoyance. They swept the paper next, top to bottom, beneath a furrowed brow. "It is no good," she replied, looking up. "You must list both Lady Frickmayer and the local diocese as parties with interest."

He seemed about to protest, but her look was implacable and he could not very well spoil things for Ingrid and Roslyn. With a wordless sigh of vexation, he took it back, dipped his quill, and quickly scrawled both names under the indicated section. Meanwhile, Roslyn worked furiously at her ambitious project.

The clock ticked closer to the hour and they could hear carolers in the streets. Ink met paper in great looping swishes, Sybille filed Bastian's form, and her eyes went to the clock. She was just opening her mouth to offer an apologetic refusal when Roslyn all-but thrust the completed document her way.

Sybille blinked. Her eyes flashed from side to side across the page and she mumbled something under her breath. With that, a cuckoo burst forth from the clock to startle both of the newcomers. Unshaken, the archivist finished up the last few lines, nodded, and grinned. "You're a quick writer, Miss Wicke but, more importantly, a good one." Quickly, she tucked the form where it belonged, shrugged into her coat, scarf, and gloves, and led the trio outside.

"Wicke..." Sibylle remarked, as she locked the door and took a great big breath of the cold fresh air. Around the corner, closer to the Weberplatz, carolers were singing Die zehn Weihnachtstage. "You're Hendlish, right?" she inquired, as they began walking.

"Thank you. I was afraid I wasn't going to make it." Roslyn's heart had finally settled after the start from the clock. Upon hearing Sibylle ask about her country, she nodded. "Yes, born and bred. Why?"

Again, that familiarity gnawed at her, but she pushed it down. She had never been to Lindenholdt before and so she couldn't have possibly known this woman. Could she?

They made their way to the corner and it was such a pretty sight: the storefronts and square done up with garlands, the tree glowing with candles by the fountain, voices rising in song. One could forget, for perhaps a few moments, the looming war and myriad other threats.

Sybille smiled softly, mischievously. "From Arkney, perhaps?"

"Yes... How did you know?" Roslyn narrowed her eyes, getting a feeling that Sybille knew something more. "Do we know each other? I've been getting this odd feeling of familiarity, but this is my first time here."

She pulled up her scarf to keep the cold from crawling down her neckline. Her feet crunched along the snow to keep up with the archivist. The whole time her mind tried to piece things together.

Ingrid placated Bastian, tapping him on the arm as if to give thanks for what he went through. "And thanks to you, we were able to ready ourselves for tomorrow, you have been quite good to us." She whispered to Bastian so the 2 lookalikes could talk. Ingrid continued her walk, and tapped, <BOOK. DONE.> on her hip incase Marci
still listened.

Meanwhile, Bastian merely winked Ingrid's way. "And I could've done it quicker," he teased, "but zen it wouldn't have been as exciting." He began whistling and twirled his keys as he walked. "Good luck tomorrow. If you need me, don't hesitate to call on me." He smirked. "I'm not a hard guy to find."

Marceline did not, in fact, respond right away, somewhat to Ingrid's disappointment but, as they were passing along the north side of the Weberplatz, admiring the carolers and about to turn up the road where their inn was, a belated response came in.

<Sorry.> it announced, <We. Were. All. Talking. | You. Are. A. Treasure. | Your. Schnitzel. Is. Ready. | Did. You. Want. Anything. Else.>

"Of course, I look forward to our next meeting." Ingrid accepted the wink with a small smirk. If Ingrid didn't believe he had wants for Mrs. Weber or some other lady in town, Ingrid might have tried to have her schnitzel and sausage tonight. <PIE. CIDER. BEER. FOR. ROSE >

Now came a different test, to see if they would actually receive the documents tomorrow or does someone have the gall or sway to move within the archivist building at night. Or at least that is what Ingrid believed Marci had wanted to have set up. A little trickiness suited her well.

"My mother is Agatha. Yours is Blythe, right?" She smiled. "We are cousins - distant ones, but cousins."

"Agatha..." Roslyn's eyes widened up as realization hit her. " Yes, mother's first cousin. That's why you're familiar. You came to visit one year."

"Yes. I think I was about eight. You must've been..." She trailed off. "I remember being told to look after you."

"Five, I think?" Roslyn frowned with a thoughtful look. She tapped her finger against her chin for a moment. "Garith said I was outright terror when I was young."

"I remember you bit me!" Sybille laughed. "I was convinced you were a wildblood for a bit." She shook her head. "Well, this is me." She gestured down a street. "We must speak tomorrow, at length." She clasped both of Roslyn's hands. "Orätz, we do look alike. Don't we?"

"Yes, truly," agreed Sybille. "Now, I shall see on the morrow. Do try to... rest well at Die Tanzstiefel."

"Nothing that a little beer won't fix." Roslyn said as she caught the hesitation. There was no time to dwell on it with them needing to return to the inn. She pulled back her hands and twisted to return to Ingrid's side. "Let's get back to the Inn before it gets too dark to see where we're walking."

With that, the girls rushed back to the Die. Tanzstiefel, where the rest of the students waited for them.

The Hourglass Order

2nd Battle of Ceboyan

---

Preparation

Tired and battered from his battle at Reed Hill, Tku had a delusional hope for some respite. Even a day would suffice to settle his mind and body. But his imagined reality was starkly different from the reality of the situation. They had a monumental force coming to lay siege to the capital, and every moment was precious. He never even set down his satchel and he was already discussing fortifications of the city with Dani and the other strategists. Food, water, defenses, medicine, supply lines: all of the things that could be produced to resist the siege were being discussed. It was absolutely dizzying for Tku but he stomached through it, knowing this was a matter of life and death.

Plans to harvest what food they could or general plant life to transform into food were underway. Any animal that could be harvested from mushroom to thresher was slaughtered and stored away. The Virangish effort in the hinterland had slowed down or halted harvest in some areas and the last of the summer and fall crops could not be collected. The merchants that still dealt or could send aid were called on to help provide some more dried stores. Tku had the not so pleasant job on top of everything else he was doing was showing how to make food to some of the binders and blood mages who were nearing the level to do so. Anything to extend the amount of food they had would be a necessity while the Black King did his best at Reed Hill.

A jagged moat was carved around the city to cut off certain straightforward attacks while giving more opportunity to defend more critical situations. The storehouses needed constant protection, so deterrents were placed to lessen how enticing a target it was. Ballistas and cannons that they could produce or had were placed and fortified for the coming siege. It was no exaggeration that the city gave the night to Eshiran during the 2 weeks they had to prepare. Any moment of rest was brought with the anxiety that the Virangish were going to show up at the walls of the city.

New messengers were trained to create a warning system as their tethered system had been compromised by Dalisay going missing and Marci’s personal struggles. Bells, whistles, pigeons, were all set up to alarm us before the Virangish could arrive. Stone towers for vantage were raised in moments by Tku as he stressed his mana to the limit. Walls that couldn’t be built in months sprung up underneath the watchful eyes of architects and strategists. What felt like hundreds of calls were made to coordinate with every person to construct the city faster than what could be imagined.

Unlike what was expected, the structures formed hastily on the back of dozens of binders did not lack beauty in their need for function. Purpose of mind and use were always the core of Tku’s art, and he had finally found himself in the chaos of Palapar. He would not let this struggle claim his smile or self, for what was he fighting for if it was not to give hope and choice to the people that come after him? He had made his decision long ago to fight against oppression and the only difference is that he now knows the beauty and the ugly side of freedom.
It was this change that infected others. Seeing the man who spoke to all gave hope that they could survive this battle. It emboldened the soldiers and citizens within the city to help with the task at hand. New strategies and commands were distributed to the people to prepare for the well-armed force coming at the city. How to deal with binders, arcanists, dragon riders, trebuchets. Each thing that needed to be accounted for needed at least a semblance of a plan. How often to check the walls, where did the populace need to gather in case of an emergency and it was chosen that the large church was a good place to go in case of an attack.

Those were the things that traditional defenses to sieges were capable of here. However, the main thing that kept the city safe was decent mages that could man areas to enhance the fortifications. That was something Ceboyan lacked immensely. Tku didn’t have many options for it, but the strategist from the natives of Ceboyan was of a different mind. Explode the outer city, but save some that can be created into a fake bank. The wet season is coming, and with a little coercion, the mages here could speed up the time for it. Set up a fake bank that can be used to cause a flood of the Virangish settlement and offset their offense for a few more days.

It was ather outside the norms, but Tku could see the merit in such an idea. Being the extra man that Tku was, he proposed an auxiliary plan to modify it. He could create golems of kelp and whale trees that could float on the water in prep for the flood. They wash into camp and cause havoc for a few days as the Virangish mages try and deal with them. The generals had never heard of such magic but they trusted Tku, for it didn’t hinder their plan. He got the idea seeing young children make little friends on the beach with washed up seaweed. They were rather innocuous looking, but the kelp gave the limbs flexibility and healing capabilities, while the whale tree’s trunks gave it heft and strength. It was a rather devilish idea, Tku admitted to himself. He was making a weapon to murder, the same as the mushroom beast he made many nights ago. But his mind did not ail at the thought anymore. This was a necessary step if they were to win a war.

The last and most serious thing to plan for was Zarina, the Temporal wildblood with the sole power to crack through any defenses they could raise if cared to discard her thought for the city. The fifth moon was coming and she would need to leave during that time. Tku knew her too well to believe she would let that side of her run free among her own and the city. But Tku knew as well then the 4 moons would rise and the strength that gave her. They needed to prepare for that day, specifically if the showboater that Kashani was to try and make a powerful move. They would have to use ‘that’.

The 2nd Battle of Ceboyan

Carles 10th, Dami-Zept 55

I was on the outside of the city, setting plans in motion, when we received word of the Virangish approach. Even with all the planning, fear still hung on people’s faces but it would be wrong for them not to when even I fear for the future here. I spent the majority of the time confirming people were in and checking for any Virangish scouts that may have been trying to slip into the city.

After that, I only got bits and pieces from the command. Little could raise more feeling than a marching army to your city. It was a beautifully terrifying thing. I found myself taking peeks, looking for a little dragon girl among the ranks, but sadly my eye has failed me in this task.

Luckily, the Virangish want to control the city, so they didn’t come at us with force, instead, they came to us with an olive branch, as the Thalosioans would say. It was a small envoy of mixed company. Maybe they think familiar faces could weaken our defenses? It isn’t for me to think on, for I am too narrow to consider such tactics. I need to be heading to bed now. I have too many duties to listen to Ipte tonight.

Carles 11th, Dami-Zept 55

We received better numbers on them from spotters and the numbers are hopeful. Reed Hill had really impacted their numbers. I find myself uplifted that those brave souls' sacrifice actually impacted them in a visual way. Each one is a hero in my heart. I can only carry on for the people that had already passed and drive for a better future.

Carles 12th, Dami-Zept 55

The day was rather windy and ominous; now that the envoy sent by Kashani was heading back to their small encampment outside the outskirts, they must have figured it was trapped. Well, they were correct, but it would be so nice if they walked with Ashanaz. Oh well, they will either risk it or spend time destroying the outskirts before approaching.

I spent some time refining the defenses of the internal walls and making some food for myself and others. Every meal saved is helpful. For the future. Especially with the increased hunger from the population, doing something rather ingenious but I do have to hope that the plan comes to fruition sooner rather than later.

Carles 13th, Dami-Zept 55

The siege had finally started, and much to our hope, Kashani was sending some men to tempt us to use whatever trap we had. With that, though, the dragons have been coming in closer to the city. I think they are testing our range and seeing if we can stop them before committing. That or they are just trying to scare people. Honestly, it is working on me. I didn’t know I could be so specifically afraid of dragons until I saw them sneering at the city with me in it.

Some damage was done to the walls but I repaired it quicker than they could do damage. Frankly, I hope that they keep trying these weak attempts that covet the city.

Oh yeah! There was an archer on the wall today. He has great eyes and skill and struck someone dead from nearly a mage’s range. It was quite a sight to see. If I get a chance, I would have wanted a bow made by Marz made for him just for how much he boosted morale.

Well, it is night and I need to keep alert, more coffee in the morning for me. I think I might be Zarina addicted at this point.

Carles 14th, Dami-Zept 55

Today was hard.

The Virangish had started to push a little more aggressively with their men and dragons. A few dragons were able to fly over the wall and start some fires, but we could suppress them for the most part. It was worrying how hard it was to deal with them, but we were lucky the wind picked up into strong gusts that stopped them from flying past noon.

The real victory is that we could set off the explosions on some of the outskirts, but the ones near the harbor survived and let them set up base there. It had some structures and was in a better area for the siege. Not perfect, but better than how far they were currently.

I could imagine they see this is going their way but I dare them to think that come tomorrow.

Carles 15th, Dami-Zept 55

Today was a good day! The storm we were whipping up finally took shape in the mid-hours of Shune. Even if Kashani was a fool, his men wouldn’t try and march in the rain. They held out in their recently claimed area as we prepared some form of long ranged attacks for the night.

The 5 moons may have been pretty tonight if they could push through the typhoon that was whipping up to full speed. It was remarkable how high the tide could rise here, and it seems the typhoon was only making it worse, all the better for us in the city. The fake bank broke around the mid hours of Dami, and the entire outskirt they had set up as their base was suddenly swept away downstream. It was a catastrophe for the Virangish.

Carles 16th, Dami-Zept 55

The morning brought excellent news. The area had flooded and displaced or destroyed a good amount of supplies. Not only that, the field was now covered in seaweed, whale trees, fish, and general debris. I even got to see some of my kelpy little golems starting to harass the Virangish in the rain.

Hopefully, this will keep them busy for a few days. In the meantime, we have to keep the storm going and keep up the offensive while they are recovering. The little golems are creating quite a ruckus.

Carles 17th, Dami-Zept 55

Rain is still pouring and the Virangish are working on licking their wounds and recovering what supplies they can. No dragons have come due to the rain and only small attacks from specifically brazen soldiers. We haven’t been able to retaliate and some are thinking of doing an offensive. It’s been hard to keep some of them silent.

Carles 18th, Dami-Zept 55

The rain still continues. The Virangish have set up a little further and I think they finally finished off the last of my little golems though I doubt they have gotten rid of all of them. I have had some more time for food preparation and rebuildings roofs to keep rain out. It was rather calming if I forget about the Virangish.

I been talking to Keearah pretty often, normal things mostly now that I don’t feel a pit in my soul. She’s rather pleasant to talk to.

Carles 19th, Dami-Zept 55

The rain lightened and with it came a renewed effort to take the city. It wasn’t the most difficult day as their fire had a hard time catching with everything being thoroughly soaked but some people of the wall did get killed and injured with a fireball.

That bowman, the one who sniped the man, his name is Abel. In the last offensive he was able to land a shot on a 3 mages and a dozen or so soldiers. I think he killed one of the mages. He has risen in ranking because of that and people are starting to follow him because of how effective he was. I think I may give him some Monarch poison to help his arrows finish the job on mages.

Maybe. I still have reservations on being too violent or hostile. It feels hypocritical after what I helped do in Reed Hill but I still find myself thinking about stuff like this. I’ll probably still give it to him because as much as things have been going easily so far, this is a fight for the survival of this nation.

Oh, I also sketched a flower today, it was particularly odd so I outlined it to fill in the details if I ever get a chance.

Carles 20th, Dami-Zept 55

The rain was more of a misting today and with that the Virangish came in with force. Their land offensive was off set until the sun could peak through to dispel the mist. If I had to guess… They didn’t want to deal with fog krackens and threshers that want to feed on the free buffet the outside of the city was.

For once, I think Kashani made a smart decision. Well, second, the first was leaving that one mistress of his that seemingly was pushing for something a little more substantial. It wouldn’t have ended well for any party but I could make some money off the drama that spills from the pages of their letters.

Ah yes the offensive. The fog lessoned them trying to breach the walls by land but some mages tried to fly over and dragons supported them. Maybe 37 odd people died today and they scorched one of our supply houses.

I stayed out of it to protect the supplies and heal people but if the rain doesn’t come back tomorrow, I will have to make it known I am here.

I pray for the rain to come back.

Carles 21st, Dami-Zept 55

The weather had seemed to repeat since yesterday though the fog cleared out earlier today and the Virangish could make a greater ground battle today. We poured hot oil and flaming tar on them but it only fueled some of the chemical and arcane mages they had.

Abel had fought more today, he seemed to grow more brazen as his legend grew. He didn’t make it today. He had sniped 4 mages today but he couldn’t stop a mage from incinerating the very air around him. I tried to save him but my gift can only revive someone only so far gone. They burnt him to the point I could see his bones. They were blackened with ash and slick from what little fat the Abel had.

I still remember him so fondly. He had taken up a roll desperately needed and was a home grown hero and with Abel, the had it. I can only hope that his death emboldens the others.

The dragons struck again today, this time completely burning a storehouse and damaging some of the balistas. They would have done more if it wasn’t for my interference. I knew I was going to fight together but I didn’t expect my own brutality. I abused my strength and plucked lifes weaker than mine that couldn’t resist my draw or dark magic. A few dragons fell to a darkbolt and even more mages found themselves unable to survive my gaze.

I felt so strong, so absolute in my actions. All the time I felt sickened to my core. I feel weak after taking head after head. My blood hurts from the fighting. I hate this feeling but I know I find solace in my journal where I can dump my woes. I’ll be medicating tonight to sleep well.

Carles 22nd, Dami-Zept 55

The storm came back and put a halt to their growing offensive and I cried tears of joy. I spend the day healing wounds and repairing what was damaged. Salves for burns was starting to grow low so I created some to make up for the supply lost.

Other than that. I spent the day talking to friends and calming my mind of what I did yesterday. Against my best interests, I find myself thinking of Zarina when my mind wanders. Did my medicine help her. Did she recover from the damage we did? Does she find herself ragged at the end of the day to just put on a face for the next?

I accepted my humanity back into my heart and now I can’t help but remember my friend and her charm instead of her strength and indifference to the plight here. It’s good, I think. I remember myself thinking I hated the Virangish instead of what is being done here. I don’t think I’m ready to talk to her, not yet.

I might be a fool for wanting to speak to her over some coffee again. Well, maybe tea.

Carles 23rd, Dami-Zept 55

The rain has held steady in the morning, let’s see if it holds for the day.

I am at the end of the day now and little has transpired on the siege, thank Eshiran. But what I did do to day was brush up on my palaparese. So that’s it. Odd how little I have to say today but I guess that is a good thing.

Carles 24th, Dami-Zept 55

The rain is still here and I can see the Virangish getting restless. Or at least that is what I hope. I imagine being stuck in the rain is always terrible. Even I am starting to get sick of it! But please stay for a long while.

On the bright side. Some people were able to sneak some more food into the city which is good considering on how much was damaged only a few days ago. They said they will try tomorrow and we can only hope they succeed.

Carles 25th, Dami-Zept 55

I have cursed the rain because it is definitely lighter today. Not light enough for another massive siege but enough to get some mages to try and attack. The losses were more severe than the other times. One mage snuck in and caused what could only be called a catastrophe. The worst part is they got away. I fear that this is going to bite us later down.

Carles 26th, Dami-Zept 55

It bit us immediately. The mage poisoned some our stores. I can clean them of any contamination but it takes time and when the rain lightens I won’t be able to do so anymore. If only I had been more vigilant, I could have stopped it. Some of the populace already seem sick or it is just the worry and strain finally coming out.

To make it worse, the people we relied on to bring in food got caught and executed by the Virangish. It wasn’t much food but it provided a sense of security and now it was gone. Most of our binders take there time to rebuild damaged walls and can’t clean and make food like me.

But with the Virangish learning how to harden their defense in the rain to apply pressure, I am needed as a field medic and general fighter if another mage tries to enter.

Carles 27th, Dami-Zept 55

The rain lightened and the Virangish striked. More fires and attacks on our stores and walls. I know help is on the way but we need to hold them off for the time until then. Worst I think they know.

The 4 moons are coming. I feel I might get that conversation with Zarina before I am ready. I haven’t even a single piece of fine tableware for a guess to come around. I only jest but we need to be ready for our rain to end and them try another large offensive. May Oraff have mercy so we can survive for just another week or 2.

Carles 28th, Dami-Zept 55

The rain kept up it’s rate as yesterday so no dragons however a flaming rock came crashing through a shelter and killed more people than it should of. They have started setting up walls to counter ours. They are hard to remove from where we are and they know it.

They have finally gotten use to targeting me. I had a firebolt sent at my side and it singed me to the bone. I thought my disguises would hold but that won’t work anymore. I need to carry myself with more purpose and awareness.

Carles 29th, Dami-Zept 55

We are out of bandages and I have resorted to drawing loafs of bread and potatoes instead of arrows and cannonballs. The rain was just light enough for a dragon run. It spread fire across the streets before riding high in the sky, just outside of my reach. The wall nearly fell as the binders were trying to save the wounded.

Some people have started to consider abandoning Ceboyan but I won’t run.

Carles 30th, Dami-Zept 55

Today was calm. The rain was more of a drizzle and little was seen of the Virangish mid way through the hours of Oraff. I found out later that relief aid are coming from the islander and our fleet survived. They must be preparing for the 4 moons and lining up a larger attack.

I cried tears of joy for the first time in awhile. We just have to make it past the 4 moons. It won’t be easy but I swear I will stay and hold this city for their arrival. I just hope I will be able to see their arrival myself.

Carles 31st, Dami-Zept 55

I write this in the early morning. Today will undoubtedly be the hardest day the city has taken. Despite my boasting I have done in front of people, I am not sure I will live through this fight. I find myself thinking of all the things I should have done if I am to die today.

I am afraid but I am not shaking. I am as resolute as a man can be when facing down what could be his last battle. I have a few possession and a will. I don’t know who to send it to. Marci feels obvious but she is struggling, and I wish not to burden her more than I already has. She’s smart, smart enough to know what kind of battle I will be in. There is Desmond but it would only slow him down.

So it came to the obvious answer, my closest friend.

One Last Phone Call

Tku closed his journal, placing a small ribbon where it he left off his writing. He looked around the medicine tent established far from the wall. Throwing a cowl over his head he walked through the rain to an abandoned alley that was burnt by a dragon not to many days ago. He pulled out his banana and called his closest friend.

"Hello," Tku greeted almost jovially, "I know I haven’t spoken to you in awhile but I just wanted to let you I been doing well." There was a short pause followed by a snort, "Who am I kidding, we have had a terrible time here, haven’t we?" his question seemed posed to make sure. "I don’t call to harass you or to convince you. Just to ask a favor. If I don’t make it out of today, I have my journal hidden in my room. It’s on the corner of that pastry shop near the palace. You should be able to tell from all painting at the windows. Take care of those things for me if you can."

There was an uncomfortable pause. "I have thought long on my feeling towards you. They were complicated and painful. But I am past the painful part at least. I just want to say through all of this, I still care for you. You are still my friend and I will continue to believe that."

Attack of the Virangish

“Men and Women of the motherland,”

Ertan Kashani rode on his magnificent white horse before his army - the army that had been besieging Ceboyan for almost a month. An army that, upon the loss of Piyale Karga, was relegated to the command of the viceroy himself.

“tonight we dine in our rightful homes, stolen by the ungrateful savages that have and would still slit the throats of your wives! Twist the necks of your children when they sleep! And take all that you hold dear.”

Behind him was a dark and hulking creature hunched into all fours and clad in dragonscale armour - a redundancy given she was already mostly scales in this state. Four Moons shined upon Sipenta, and progressively brought light to that monstrous form. Once a devil to be feared, now one of Virang’s living hopes for the future.

“No more. I say, NO MORE!”

The man drew his ornate scimitar to wave it in the air. The dragon behind him remained stoic, eyes directed to the troops like they were being scrutinized. Others drew their blades, many inspired, some pressured to by either their peers or that reptilian, amber gaze. The conspicuous absence of Ren Baykara still left some wondering what could be going on to warrant his absence.

“Ceboyan. Will. Return. To. VASHDAL!”

And with these words, Zarina vanished in an instant.

Intelligence had inevitably reached the occupiers of the capital regarding the imminent invasion. Kashani’s speech only confirmed it. They had guards at the ready, from the ramparts to the gates. Ballistas were trained to the skies and civilians hid in their homes. Perhaps the latter was why a surprise attack was foregone.

The anti-dragon ballistas were the first targets, long since identified during the many prods from the Virangish side. They weren’t directly destroyed - no, binders would easily remedy that problem. Instead, the ghoulish animals patrolling the borders of the city were commandeered and dropped onto the defenses by the temporal dragon. There was little chance of tactically rebuilding when a dangerous animal was thrashing the place, at least for a brief time.

The dragons could begin their assault unmolested for a vital window. The ramparts were torched quickly and towers mowed down with very little to defend them. Mages that showed themselves too early were instant targets for the black wildblood dragon.

Kashani assaulted the main gate with most of Ceboyan’s towers and ramparts in flames. Tariq and Fatima accompanied him. With the might of a dozen men plus the previous three mentioned, the gate was easily torn apart and a bridge created. It wasn’t without potential recourse from the rebels as blood mages fought back, but it’d be a short lived resistance when Zarina made her rendez-vous with Ertan’s group. The mages died to a murderous glare of the beast.

Multiple other gates were being breached. Some were more successful than others. The aerial assault was meeting resistance again, but the city had already been impregnated from multiple sides. The rebels fought hard, they even maintained a strong stalemate to the East. But then came the ships. Naval assaults, cannon strikes on the walls and oceanborn mages slithering through the cracks, although they then had to deal with the seaweed constructs.

One group was, in no exaggerated terms, unstoppable. It was Ertan Kashani’s. A squad with a noticeably lesser number of soldiers, but with the finest in its vanguard. The dragon, the rookie with the raw power and the swordswoman strategist. And, of course, the Viceroy himself and the grand reputation he had garnered.

Zarina’s scales were impenetrable, and when they were harmed, they restored themselves. A calamity in a mortal form, the scourge of Southern Palapar. She was the reason most resistance had been directed to other parts of the city. It was a waste of lives to fight her head-on.

Tariq’s raw power could be felt with his leveling of barricades without even needing to get near his capacity. Unsure of himself normally but emboldened by where he stood, the boy was as much of a menace as the dragon to most soldiers.

Fatima was the brains behind a lot of their tactics. Swordswoman by tradition with both a Scimitar and a Katana, though she favours the former for most warfare. No slouch in raw power, but her skill and wits were what made her deadly.

They marched through the main streets, clearing ambushes with the dragon making it a completely one-sided massacre to those who believed themselves to be safe with range. Death was gratuitous to all those who produced a weapon against Kashani’s group, and the heavily mutated form Zarina wore did wonders in dampening her conscience. A shape tailor made for war, truly.

The rebels had learned, however. They experienced many losses because of the dragon. They knew they couldn’t duel it or take it head on. There were also rumors about her. A bleeding heart despite her position. The more unscrupulous tacticians of war were keen on taking advantage of this in spite of Tku Pictor’s probable fury. Some wanted to win this no matter the cost. A church near the center of the city housed many noncombatants. Children, the elderly, women, men who needed to provide for their own. There was many injured, too.

It also housed a group of mages that used their collective magic to stifle the approach of the group. Powerful binding sealed every passage, strong mortar shots were beginning to chip at the men and women they had filling their numbers.

“We can’t keep this up!”

Kashani yelled through the gunshots and explosions. Tariq struggled to maintain holes on the powerful barricades. Fatima combined her strength with many others, including the aforementioned rookie, only to be repelled by a myriad of kinetic strikes.

“They might have a tethered in there too. That may be why they’re so accurate.” remarked Fatima.

“No way. We know they don’t have that many!” reminded Tariq. “An Icevein or Blackrot. That’s probably it.”

The Viceroy gave little consideration to their theories. “They are a problem.” he turned his horse to better face his black dragon. “Zarina!” at least he remembered her name.

The wildblood turned her head to meet his eyes. The uncanniness of her appearance was off putting - she still had a mostly human face, but the bone structure had been change enough to approach a dragon’s, and while her hair remained, her now large, twisted horns had consumed the entire front portion of her hairline.

“Obliterate that church.” he commanded with an air of authority.

The dragon blinked and then made a double take between the church, hidden behind defenses, and her superior. The furrowing her of scaly eyebrows suggested uncertainty.

“It’s our only way forward. They’re KILLING our comrades! Do you not care?” he gestured toward the back where casualties had began to mount.

“People.” Zarina pointed to the church. “Not. Fighters.” her voice held aspects of the human she usually was, and that of a dragon’s. An almost distorted and unpleasant sound. “Not. Fighters.”

“But here ARE fighters!” corrected Kashani. “They are using the defenseless as shields. Monstrous savages, all of them. There is only ONE play here.” he raised his pointer finger and directed right to the heavens. “Let the Gods sort the cowardly murderers to the innocent. We have a duty.”

The wildblood stood there, expression blank. She made a few other double takes, like a confused animal that had just been bamboozled by a simple trick.

“B-”

They all felt the change. It was the exact same feeling they had experienced in the Royal Palace. Tariq began to panic, Fatima was quick to find cover and Ertan Kashani reeled in his horse.

“The Gift is gone!” the viceroy shouted. “Get to cover, the Gift is GONE!”

The Church was no longer a barrier. Nothing was a barrier anymore. Not to the abomination of Virang. All the beast could recall, now subject to this feeling meant to disarm her, was the feeling of getting shot and the helplessness toward the massacre of her own people.

Gunshots came their way, the rebels had prepared for this.

But most bullets still ricocheted off the monster’s hide and scales. Magic or not, the remark of ‘calamity’ was not an exaggeration.

“Should keep magic.” Zarina uttered with a low growl. Her hind legs flexed and her front claws onto the paved ground under her. In a blink of an eye, her immense strength and agility went into full force. The gunmen in her way were ejected into terminal velocity if they weren’t obliterated from the get-go. “Would save more lives.”

The dragon could jump high, glide, crush, bite, burn with a searing breath. The device weakened the overall Virangish force, but rebels’ trump card did seemingly little to Virang’s.

Zarina was practically frenzied, driven by the memories of that one, horrible night. She was not going to be helpless again. No longer a cornered animal.

Snipers did not relent. They had to slow her down. Whittle her until she stopped. Her healing was still there, slower but there. Many ran away, picking other, easier fights.

Those that showed courage were subject to an earth-shaking roar from the transformed girl. A roar that had many hold their ears as their very cerebellum was shaken by the screech.

As an hour passed, the rebels were on the clear back foot with the dragon threatening to flank them while aerial assaults resumed by genuine dragons that did not require the Gift to fly.

The beast was panting. Covered in blood, still unfazed by all the damage she had taken, few would notice the abnormal exertion affecting her.

“Guh …” it got exponentially worse. Shots on her scale affected her footing more and more. Something was wrong. More than once she’d be seen falling briefly onto one knee.

Everything was getting blurry. With this came a wildness to her that was even worse than her enraged state. She started biting off limbs, cruelly stomping on corpses and breaking structures where civilians could be hiding. Utterly animalistic. Control was almost entirely gone, as was her vision. All around her burned, even a couple of unfortunate soldiers on her side.

Slowly but surely, she slowed to the point of sitting down. Still dangerous, but her progress had stopped, much to Kashani’s chagrin. That said, the damage had been done and the Virangish had not been repulsed yet. They knew that, in time, the weapon would run out of power too. The question was which trump card would waste away first.

“She’s finished.” said Kashani to Fatima. “When she fully stops, gather her quickly before they get to her.” to which she nodded.

Deep in her mind, Zarina was still there. Only memories. In the end, she felt as helpless here as she did in the Palace. As a passenger with a fogged up windshield. Only feelings. She recalled her latest, pleasant recollection. How she wished this all could just blow over.

One Last Memory

Zarina had been as far away as possible from her post when she received the call. All the way in Sawand, after diffusing a dire situation with that very country. She needed a break.

She flinched. The voice of Tku incited different things in her. The first was that she had to think of Palapar - Frustration.

Memories of their past encounters - Anger.

Knowledge of his past action - Confusion.
What could have been - Sorrow.

She only listened. Quiet, watching the sunset by the peaks with Biby by her side and curry rice still too hot to eat. Every word spoken by that man elicited something in her. A movement, a thought, a different cadence in her breathing.

She closed her eyes. She contemplated. She decided.

“Don’t die on me.”

A memory riddled with emotions. A memory filled with humanity, the antithesis of the shape she leveraged. A good feeling to check out on - it could be her last one. The beast, with this morsel of humanity, was laid to rest.

An easy target for the rebels.

An alternative Fatima had prepared for.

A whistle from the forward thinker and a very specific stomp to the ground, had the earth shake below them. Before any coup de gras could be performed, a Virangish Mountain Wyrm, a far smaller variant to the Eskandish variant, emerged from the ground below Zarina to ensnare the beast. Shots fired at it were generally unsuccessful in peeling quickly enough through the scales before it dove back into its hole with its prize.

Virang’s asset was secured, and Kashani’s assault continued against a crippled rebellion force.

Until, of course, the maritime front came into play.

Daybreak

Faster... Faster.
Mahal hung tightly to the waka's mast. She twisted the sail to catch the wind and push her small boat along the curve of a wave. The hull skimmed the water before it dipped down, catching more speed with the fall. She adjusted her balance to ride the path toward her destination. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Apoy. The dark color of his carapace plowed through the curl of the waves with a powerful enthusiasm.

The sight of him made her smile for a moment.

She twisted around and glimpsed the seeming thousands of boats following her wake. Each held the same fondation, but differences decorated their hulls and forms. Warriors, painted and ready for war, chanted endlessly. Their paddles hit the water together and pushed themselves along with surprising speed. A few larger ones brought up the rear while they all headed to one place: Ceboyan.

Virangish ships had set up a blockade to prevent outsiders from. While smoke and gun fire erupted on the land, they stood guard over the waters. In the dim light of Ipte passing her hours to Shune, a sailor squinted and called out shapes in the distance. Before long the ships came alive with men scrambling to their positions. Fires illuminated the remaining darkness as shouts broke the stillness. Cannons were loaded as they whipped around to point at the incoming boats rushing at them.

The first iron ball plowed into a large boat to Mahal's left. Warriors howled and splash into the water, wood sent splintering from the force. It wasn't the only one. Another two fell victim to the blockade's attempt to deter them.

Fearing she would be next, Mahal tossed a rope out with a bright red flag.

"Kumuha! (Fetch!)"

With surprising grace for a volcanic thresher, Apoy surged from the water and caught it in his claw. The beast's momentum ripped her small boat forward. Mahal hung on tightly to the mast, her feet threatening to slip from beneath her. Another ball splashed behind her as it narrowly missed. Others managed to evade their own attacks, the number slipping through the blockade growing.

Eventually, the ships ceased their fire and gave up pursuit. A few unlucky wrecks of larger boats floated in the wake of their charge, unable to escape the assault. Meanwhile, the rest rushed to the harbor then into the fray of battle.

The moment their feet hit solid ground, war cries erupted from the islanders' lungs. Virangish soldiers turn to come face to face with a fresh wave of violence. Arrows, stone clubs, spears and more found soft flesh. Gun fire and sword returned the favor from the Virangish side. Sparks of the gift surged in the air as Mahal countered some of the mages, weakening their attacks.

The islander's numbers charged into the rear flanks of the Virangish army. Arrows flew from those back at the boats, whittling at the enemy army. Blood, both ally and foe, bled across the city's broken stone. As bodies piled up on the battleground, the Rebels saw the tide turn in their favor.

The days of siege and struggle had been rewarded at long last.

tl;dr

The Virangish launched a 22 day siege of Ceboyan. On the 32nd of Carles, the Virangish made a strong push on the evening of the 4 moons and broke any defenses the city had, and it was conquered. However, a magic nullifying device slowed their complete seizure of the city. They later retreated as islander allies had broken through the Virangish blockade and entered the harbor. The City remains under the control of the Republic of Palapar, though it suffered heavy losses from holding out against a superior enemy.

The Hourglass Order

Burning Sky

5 pages of unfocused and disjointed notes and a single page of something comprehensible. Ingrid leaned back closing her eyes as she finally grasped something. "Finally," she leaned back against the pillar studied at.

SHRIEK

"Yes, thank you Mr. watch," she grasped a tarnished brass watch, holding it to the 5 moons to enjoy the little helper. It ticked for 4 seconds but then on the fifth,

SHRIEK

It wasn't terribly loud, but it was loud enough that she shouldn't stay near other people studying. Her ears were more sensitive to disharmonious sounds than most. It grabbed her attention with its grating sound and almost acted as an anchor. Something consistent she could try to find when her mind would 'wander'. "Last thing I need is to be kicked out of the nerd group," she shoved it into her handbag. It wasn't perfect but it worked from time to time. That and checking the time was a good way to check where she was though it was more active.

"One page is a good start," Ingrid told herself but was deeply conscious of the tens of pages she could write before. It was endlessly frustrating.

That's when she heard the centuries, walking with much agency at this time of day. It made her nervous, could they be here for her? No, they already know I'm a Sanguinaire and I haven't pushed the line recently. Even with some rationale, she kept herself guarded.

Old man Sigmund's words struck her heavily. Another daughter of the world tree was burning. It weighed on her in ways she could not describe. It was as if the grove near her home had been lit aflame. She had to go to it.

But could she? She could barely make notes, What if my mind wanders in the middle of saving someone? The thought was deeply unsettling. But Daigo's words, his taunt, were enough to spur her on. "I'll go."

SHRIEK

You arrive at the outskirts of Nipton at the Northwest evacuation camp. A few can be found wounded and being tended to, but most were mostly frightened. Nobody comes to tell you what to do or inform you of the situation, all you have is the massive inferno right before you. This giant tree, now an obelisk of orange and white in the heart of the city, blocks out the five full moons with its ceaseless discharge of smoke. It reeks everywhere.

The loud cracking of wood being burned en masse does little to hide the screams of fear and pain of the people, still trapped in their burning homes. Then there are the sporadic ‘pops’, akin to gunshots but stronger, yet also too swift and fleeting to be a cannon shot.

Rushing through the western wing of the city, Ingrid was searching for accelerant and other volatile compound. She sensed something but was unsure of herself until Roslyn's reassurance. She tended to the armory, removing the gunpowder kept inside. Was this the level of security that the Enth kept there supplies.

She froze it solid to keep it cool and prevent future explosions.

SHRIEK

She looked at her pocket watch, she was viewing the wrong thing. What has she frozen? She needed to hide it from her vision to keep it safe. She blasted the ground open with binding and kinetic and buried it like a treasure.

"Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind," she repeated to herself as she centered herself on the noise.

She didn’t havethe luxury to relax as she could hear the panic at the market place over the roaring fire. Along the way from the armory to the marketplace, Ingrid drew from the flames and dragged water like a snake over to the people. All the energy she built concentrated into a thin line in front of her. Tiny explosion ruptured through the water for a hundred feet, creating a field of mist. Ingrid knew she had done it this time because the futures of them burning to death here lessened.

"I will get you out of here but just be patient and wait for me to clear the way!" she yelled to everyone else. A path was made clear by Roslyn and Rikard and Ingrid guided them through until she saw the last person limp to a way out of the flames.

She finished guiding people in, "They have good binders at the camps! If you can stand the pain, let other more serious cases go first!" she directed them there. Her job in the west was done, "Alright, now to the residential area," she looked up at the burning tree. It was such a magnificent tree. Who would dare try and burn it? She wanted to go but she couldn't set it higher than the people suffering.

SH/RIE/K

Johann was, quite simply, overwhelmed It was bad enough that he considered liquidating the entire area and fleeing. Things had seemed to be under control, but then the flames redoubled in a way that was distinctly... unnatural.

He saved what he could: the large family in the large house with a wave of dirt via binding. He simply stuck with the numbers. That was when Haurah arrived: a water manipulator from the water riding a wave. She came, helped, and moved on. That was the temporal signature he'd detected!

Then, moments later, Ingrid: deliverance! "What a welcome face you are!" he crowed in the Eskandishwoman's direction.

She didn't much pay attention to it, she started to walk and next thing she was next to Johann. Her feet were wet and she had little idea what was going on. "Uh, Yeah!" was she actually here? She couldn't tell. She lost track of the timing and now she was just hoping.

She sensed the people in the cellar and in the yarn house. Close enough to each other to help both. Her scepter glowed and released immense knowledge into Ingrid's mind. Binding kinetic lifted the building and formed a slide solidified with arcane for the yarn people. Both could escape. She breathed in and held her breath. She looked at her watch. Was she even in the right time? Try all her might to know for sure but she simply had to try and stick to this future, present, or past.

She looked at Johann, "I'm going to head North! There is someone left in the inn but I trust you Johann." she smiled at him and when she turned her head she was surrounded by flames. Again she had moved without knowing it.

SH/EI/K

"FUCK!" did she go back or forward? Did she just teleport? Fuck, I don't have time. She sensed and went for whoever she could help.

She felt the burning house and the family inside. Explosions were coming and she had little time. She sucked up the entirety of the heat of the burning building, locking it place with her kinetic magic. Her manas stretched and let out the kinetic energy as she drew. It was a lot but she could handle it. "Get to safety, there is a place in the northwest!"

Daybreak

In the very first hours of Ardanes 24 of DZ55, two hundred and seven lives that would have surely perished on this fateful night had been stolen from the clutches of Eshiran. Young heroes, with the occasional aid from their betters, had saved lives with little direction or preparation, they bravely leapt into the maws of oblivion and fought to the bitter end. Said end came under the form of a deadly light show of explosions that swallowed almost the entirety of the east and south of Nipton.

Desmond rushed out with his legion of steeds while Johann dove into the final unchecked building in the hopes of salvaging a final life. Zeno Haurah could only delay the inevitable so long before she retreated into the river, biding her time until she would help reclaim Nipton from its infernal oppressor. Had it not been of Marco’s purging of the unidentified oval-shaped explosives into a temporal oubliette, a catastrophe few could truly imagine would have befell even those hidden in the camps.

Two hundred and seven were going to die had it not been for these heroes. And hundreds more would have been added if Zeno Marbrand and Desmond Catulus had not been there at the right time. Dozens, if not hundreds too, would have agonized until an unclean and horrible end had it not been for the relentless battle of Xiuyang and Roslyn in the rescue camps. Lost causes were not relegated to callous triage with these two - they saved all they could.

In the end, sixty-four had died. Most of them from the initial attack on the tree, others were simply unfortunate and were caught in the blaze before anyone knew what was even going on. Seven of them were soldiers with enough talent in the gift to make a difference. Nearly all died in an attempt to rescue their fellow townsfolk.

The end of the nightmare that nearly devoured the entirety of this once bustling city had begun when a new portal had opened. Arch Zeno Sigmund Bastañer, along with seasoned century Colette D’Aureville and High Zeno Giancarlo Silvestri, had joined the fight. Together with the current Zenos on sight, the toxic fumes were quickly siphoned into a rapidly formed earthen container and the flames quelled by a collective manipulation of heat to force immediate rainfall. The fire was controlled.

The clouds dispersed and the smoke, while it lingered, failed to hide the sun breaking through the horizon. The long night was finally over. Our heroes could finally rest.

---

The fire had started to settle and smolder on itself. The voices of the helpless were lost to the sound of cracking stone and wood. It was a helpless little world, one torn by destruction, it was consistent. She cooled a partially burnt house, entering one of the rooms to rest.

"Apologies for the intrusion," she spoke to no one.

Dust and debris were made scarce with a flick of the wrist. The time streams she could see narrowed. Some small fires might break out, maybe she would fall asleep or make a sad attempt to rebuild. The possibilities were infinite but finite now. All she had to do was keep limiting them.

Closing her eyes, pruned a few more.

Lay on the floor, feel nothing to snip any emotions. A few more options are gone.

SHRIEK...

There it was. Her pocket watch. It had stayed with her and it still worked. Every fifth second it would sound out a terrible noise. She felt it in her hand. The gentle ticks building to a misfire. It was calming.

SHRIEK...

SHRIEK...

SHRIEK...

Slowly, over the course of who knows how long, she came to know where she was. She was in the present, inside a burnt little home, lying in the room of someone who hopefully got out.

Her breathing was stifled, her dress deciding the air was too toxic to breathe. She rose, trying to remove the mask to no avail. If she wanted to remove it, she would need to go to one of the camps. "To the northeast camps, maybe I can see Rikard, Roslyn, or Desmond if I go." She took one step at a time.

Roslyn had adapted Guy's water breathing spell a bit and tried to use it to purify the air of fumes. The imperfections in the spell's alteration caused her throat to itch. She forced herself to tolerate it as her eyes flicked about. A dense haze surrounded her until she spotted a shambling shadow approach. She squinted harder and thought she recognized the person. Ingrid?

With her heart in her throat, Roslyn rushed over. Her shoes scattered cooled ashes as she tried to pull the woman to fresher air. Once there, she'd then drop the spell and check for wounds.

"You look like a mess, sit here." Her hand pointed to a fallen log. At this point, it didn't matter if she sounded bossy or overly worried. She dusted Ingrid off with kinetic and her hand, then reached for the mask. "Okay, lets get this off you. Gently."

She followed her to the save area. She was whispering a small melody as she went to keep track to the ticking. "I'm not that much of a mess," Ingrid retorted with the shake of a head, freeing some ash.

When her hand came up to her face she simply moved it to her cheek, "It will go away on it's own." She rested her head on her hand for a bit. "Did you get away—"

SHRIEK

"—unharmed." She looked into Roslyn's eyes with her own very tired eyes.

Roslyn's eyebrow arched at the retort. "Ingrid, I'm sorry to tell you this... But you kinda look like you sat in a campfire. Made my heart stop for a moment back there."

At the assurance, her panic subside a bit. She didn't spot any serious wounds much to her relief. As her hand was moved and before the Eskandish woman finished, a small shriek made her jump.

"What was that?!?" She asked while applying a chemical boost to Ingrid.

Ingrid looked ever so bluntly at Roslyn, "and you look like a chimney mouse." She rose an eyebrow and let out a scoff.

She ruffled her hair, "It's just a watch."

SHRIEK...

"A very loud one."

Roslyn blinked for a moment like her mind had stopped working. Suddenly, either due to exhaustion or Ingrid's comment, she chuckled. When it died, she countered. "True, but at least they look cute. So I'll take that as a compliment."

She gritted her teeth at the sound of the alarm again finding it irritating a bit. "What for? And how do you feel now? I tried to boost your mind a bit, but I might need to do more."

she remained sitting and stretched, "It was most definitely a compliment ash mouse."

SHRIEK...

"Can't handle a little bit of noise? feeling a little *mousy?*" Ingrid let out a laugh as she stood up. "I'm fine, truly. I rested in a house by myself, honestly."

SHRIEK...

ticking out her tongue at the teasing, Roslyn took a deep breath. Her hands pulled back when Ingrid stood up and gave herself a brief glance over. "I'm glad someone got some rest and I really look like a mess, don't I?"

She picked a bit at her sleeve as she continued. "It's not that, really. It's been a long night and sounds get on my nerves easier when I'm tired. Give me a bit to perk up my mood."

Taking a moment, she focused on her internal chemical. She soaked in the fresher feel of the change as she then bit her lip. That's when she noticed something. "You're avoiding my question, what's it for?" Her hands dusted out her skirt as she then added. "All this temporal has me itching up a storm."

With a touch of magic, Ingrid cleaned the sooty mouse to a field mouse she was. "You used too." She bopped her hair with a little bit of wind.

"Seeing you was the perk I needed," Ingrid winked and walked past her, "Come on, we have some investigating we need to do."

SHRIEK...

She yawned lazily, "Oh the pocket watch? It's just a little busted though its been useful to train. Plus I got it for a great price."

Enthish investigatory bodies and sleuthing Centuries were increasing in the charred remains of Nipton. All had the same goal, though one could only fully trust oneself, and Roslyn had so far been keen in her awareness and decision making.

A neighboring house had taken less damage than the rest - it was still cooked, but it was mostly external. Inside, Roslyn could pickup on a subtle anomaly. There were oval-shaped objects, no more than a foot long and varied in size, scattered about inside that house. She would come to find that they were the same objects that both Marco and Johann had found. The reason for their misfire was yet to be determined.

Roslyn frowned. "That is... weird."

She was no expert on fire, but she had suffered the aftermath when someone tried to set her town on fire once. Stepping away from Ingrid, she slowly walked into the neighboring house. Her eyes moved about as if expecting the place to crumble down on top of her. Oval-shaped objects caught her attention instantly. "Uh, Ingrid. I found something!"

She came near and crouched down, taking in the thing's appearance. Her hand reached out to hover above it, her magic trying to sense for heat or movement. What in the hells were these things? She questioned.

Ingrid pulled on the strands of light coming to her, unveiling a hidden world of colors and information. Sadly, it brought her nothing definitive at the time. She sighed, "Such is the nature of investigating."

SHRIEK...

Her ears perked up, "Coming." She floated over the ground, going fully sideways to slide through the doors.

"Well that seems quite alien," she hadn't seen it before but it was a little too odd to not be something.

To Roslyn, it was as alien as could be. The texture was neither metal nor wood. And it didn't feel particularly hot to the touch. They also felt a little lighter than they looked, no more than a kilogram and a half.

Ingrid, however, had a breakthrough: The shape wasn't anything she was familiar with nor the texture, at first. But as her nails grazed over the surface, little particles were stripped of the surface layer. It wasn't too dissimilar to how shed scales from a Froabas felt and react to friction, although these were clearly not from a Froabas. But by reasonable deduction, there were simply too many similarities to not determine some sort of draconic origin.

"Draconic? The seem similar to Froabas scales," Ingrid looked outside. "Maybe it was an air raid of some sort." She rolled it in her hands, becoming more perplexed.

"It's similar, but not exactly. I'm not encyclopedic when it come to dragons. Maybe some of our friends and century may be more learned than me. Maybe Rikard, he does a lot of... studying."

"Never seen a Froabas, but that's a good idea. No point in riddling this out on our own." Using kinetic, Roslyn grabbed three different sizes. "Lets try Rikard first."

She lead the way out of the house to find their other companions.

The youngest of the rescuers was crouched over a fragment from one of the exploding egg-shaped vessels. He seemed to be heating it with a sustained flame and sensing precisely. "A tethered would be just peachy right now," he mumbled as he worked. "Artificial element for sure." He scribbled on a piece of paper with a small lead.

Then, however, he paused. "Well that's not good!" The material was heating up of its own volition. The tiny fragments inside - it's 'cells' - were excited. It was - "Nope! Holy shit!" - going to blow! He tossed it away and tugged at space and time momentarily. "Fascinating..." he observed, eyes widening.

"Do we have a tethered on the scene?" Xiuyang asked the group collectively, sharing a thought with Rikard as she approached. "We may have a dragon problem. A big one."

Ingrid was frankly not scared. Things exploded all the time on her. More than most. "Ooh!" she shook Rikard's shoulder, "that's quite nifty."

SHRIEK...

"It could be blood magic, Trypano does things like this all the time, using organic materials as a base for constructs. Froabas may have just been the right material for the job." Ingrid commented to Xiuyang.

"Yes, but Trypano is weird," Xiuyang replied a bit more dismissively than she intended. "Listen, this bird saw something last night, something big in the—" "Big bird!" it interrupted. "Yes. In the sky, related to the fire." "Big bird! Big fire! Big!" It flapped its wings.

There were bits of the material all about, smoldering in little slushy heaps. Rikard tilted his head. "It's organic, but it has properties that... well..." He furrowed his brow. "They just shouldn't occur in nature. This is straight outta Trypano's book," he agreed gazing up at the sky. "A large flying animal, huh?" he responded, glancing at the remains again. "Probably draconic, like Ingrid mentioned, probably flying too high for anyone to sense it, unless..."

"Could be anything from. Dragons, birds, threshers, balloons, Zeplins, strange metal—"

SHRIEK...

"—flying contraptions that shoot explosives... Nah, not the right type of explosives."

"Unless you were a... tethered," Xiuyang finished as something conveniently caught her eye. A little too convenient, she would later realize.
Xiuyang immediately began flagging her down. "Ooooiiiii!"

"They really are everywhere now," Ingrid muttered.

As if summoned by their wishes was an obvious tethered: just look at her: all clearly using magic and not walking, just a-rollin' down the street, humming a nervous little tune, sweat beading on her forehead, skin greasy, and hair disheveled from the rescue effort. She stopped abruptly and tilted her head. "Tak?" she said, in fluent foreigner, eyes drifting towards the burning things all around.

"Guys, I think she's a Vossoriyan," Rikard murmured, "probably doesn't understand a word -"

The girl stiffened at his words, her helpful - if bemused - smile falling rapidly away. "I am... *what?*" she asked, in a bristly tone.

"Just what we needed!" Xiuyang interrupted with an invincible smile. "A thousand pardons if I'm completely off base here, but are you a Tethered?"

"Are you near Vossoria?" Ingrid asked, still more interested in where she was from. Something on her right just appeared, something gray. It stole her attention in a moment. "Maybe another bomb fell from the tree," she nudged Roslyn and headed over.

The girl blinked. "I am?" She seemed pleased. Then, came the second question. "I... am." She nodded, smiling reassuringly. "Yees, definitely. Tezered." She gestured downwards. "You see gimpy legs, yees? Haha." She shook her head in mirth.

"Vossoriya?" She glanced around. "I think we are wery far from there now, no?"

Rikard looked the girl up and down. His eyes lingered for a moment on her chest and somewhat low-cut dress. His two greatest loves made battle for his focus. Then, he blinked. "Ahem, uhhh.... yes," he replied. "So... wait." He paused. He snorted. "Oh, we're not near Vossoriya! Hah! I get it!"

Her eyes darted between the others. "Yees!" she replied, moving in closer. "I was make the joke! You like?"

Rikard blushed. "Uh... yeah. Great. Haha." He scratched at the back of his head. "So, the reason we needed a tethered is for -"

"This burning things, hmm?" She rolled forward, following Ingrid's glance to the side, and gestured at the substance on the ground. One chunk began to float upwards in a kinetic grasp. She looked to Xiuyang for confirmation.

"Uh... huh." Xiuyang offered helplessly, not really convinced on account of the girl not getting offended by her extremely blunt question like she expected—but, she was willing to let her shoot her shot. "Yes, please do." She smiled nervously, and looked to Rikard as if to wordlessly say that she needed him on standby if she screwed this up.

"We're looking to confirm the composition and properties of this material and its likely origin," Rikard elucidated.

The tethered blinked in confusion. She looked to Ingrid. "This is... *Avince* he is speaking?

Ingrid crouched near it, "Definetly not a bomb." It was a rather small aberration, a grey one. It's shape was odd, not a person but a burnt house, it looked similar to the house that she helped. Strange.

"Da," she replied.

SHRIEK...

She pulled out an item that looked like a fish from her stomach "Speak your language into this and have it translate to avincian," she tossed it to Rikard. "You know how to use it."

SHRIEK...

"A, znachytʹ, ty Vosoryanyn, tak?" She pressed her lips together in a thin line as the speaktrout was offered, eyes darting between Ingrid's stomach, confounded, and the new item. "I am work on my Avince sree months. Is good enough, no?" Then she smiled. "Sank you, zo, friend." She gestured at one of the eggs in Roslyn's grasp. "This sing, zo, is... how you say..." She rocked back and forth. Then, she paused. "I am using ze tethered sensing on her." She hummed in a low note of concentration.

"I can sense ze drakon material." She nodded. "Wery much dragon material." She blinked as Rikard held out the speaktrout. "Ah kurva. Okay. Sank you." She took it. "I have seen ziss before." She nodded, and the trout took over as she switched languages. Its voice was eminently sophisticated, in contrast to the girl's. "There is a large fossil skeleton with some scales intact. It stands in the village square in Lyubev, near my home. It has this exact pattern. It is known to be highly explosive. You are lucky to be alive."

Roslyn remained a bit quiet throughout all of this. She continued to hold the oddities in her arms as they spotted Rikard examining something. It felt wiser to wait until he finished, but she feared the trail going cold. Still, she bit her tongue and observed the ongoings. With her arms full, she felt an itch on her elbow and couldn't reach it. That's when Ingrid nudged her. Her eyes turned to the taller woman and cocked her head a bit, following them to a tether.

When the girl spoke, the mission to Vossoriya surfaced in her head. More specifically the struggle communicating with the hegelans.

"We found them in a building, but not sure why they didn't explode..." She tried to recall everything in the house best she could.

"Do you know the species?" Rikard asked excitedly.

The tethered girl considered. "Hmm." She nodded sagely. "Back home we call it somesing like..." She whispered into the speaktrout, blushing. "Beeg dead fuck-off dragon." She straightened, properly. "Well, ze peasants did." She shrugged. "Of which I am not one."

"I mean, beeg dead fuck-off drakon didn't explode for like... million years eizer." The girl shrugged.

She was squatted near it. It was too small to do much for her but every little bit could help. Roslyn could use it, she's been worried about her strength since what happened in bog. Then again, the tethered could use these and she was helping out quite a bit. She looked at the girl. But isn't she already progressed pretty far.

SHRIEK...

"Dami did not bless me with a good mind today," she yawned over the aberration.

In a sleepy eyed haze, Ingrid simply gave in. Black aberrations were easy to get but greys were not. "Hey Ms. Vossoria, there is a grey aberration here, you want it in exchange for helping us?"

SHRIEK...

"You know, one time, when I was pick turnips in ze field, we find ziss egg." She focused again, sensing. "Yes. Beeg explosiveness energy, but ziss one is dud." She rolled up, bent double, and knocked gently on it. Rikard's eyes widened and he moved to stop her. "See, nossing!" She straightened, smiled, and threw her hands out to the side like a performer.

"Well," he addressed her, "what if you heat it?" He was watching her closely.

The tethered blinked. "Well, you see what happens when you light sings on fire, little boy," she laughed, and winked. Rikard blushed.

At hearing Rikard mention heating it, Roslyn snapped her gaze into his direction. "Let's not heat it while I'm holding them, please. I've been blown up more times than I should for a life time."

It was at that moment that people's collective attention was drawn to the rare grey aberration that had spawned. They more or less all scurried over. "Slawa Menskuva," the new arrival remarked under her breath, but she would not look a gift horse in the mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise and gratitude.

Unbidden, conking Ingrid lightly on the shins, the tethered girl threw her arms around the much taller woman. "For me!?" She squeezed tightly, swinging loosely back and forth. "You are already friend! I could kiss you if I was... how you say..."

"Lesbian," interjected the speaktrout.

"Yees. Lesvyan!"

She tumbled back into her wheelchair, turned eagerly on the spot, and sucked the entire thing up in a single go. She leaned back, head lolling to the side, eyes rolled back, and patted her stomach afterwards. "Better zan home cooking." She straightened, smiled, and winked.

Rikard chuckled nervously and blushed. "Heh. Huhuh." He swallowed and smirked a little. "Learned my lesson there," he replied with the least sheepish sheepishness tone one could imagine. "I'llwaittilyou'renotthere," he slipped in quietly at the end.

Roslyn noticed the blush and it clicked to what he might've said. "Thank you, and I appreciate it. Though I do want to see it."

She hugged back and let go, "Another pretty girl saying they would kiss me if they swung that way. Such a shame." Ingrid faked sighed as she moved out of the way for the girl to take it. Also acting as a sort of guarantor against some greedy actors. The Century's were about after all.

Rikard nodded. "That is the worry. Nothing about its behaviours was natural."

The tethered girl pursed her lips, finally recovered. "Well, back home we have little kite drakon. Many many drakon." She shook her head. "Zey newer ewer come back and forss. If ziss is drakon, it is having ze rider." She glanced over the town and shuddered. "Zey have ze reason." Her gaze levered up at the tree before flicking pointedly across the others.

Ingrid looked up at the tree, sighing genuinely this time. It's large branches were blackened, leaves so thin she could see the sky through it. Something in her was inflamed that they could have been purposeful. She basked there for longer than she should have, ignoring the shriek of her watch only to come back around to it after.

SHRIEK...

Her eyes came back into focus, "We should continue searching, this was a great deal of help but we may still find out what actors were involved if we hurry."

"Ingrid," Xiuyang began, patiently. "What in the unholy fuck is that?" She pointed at the shrieking thing.

"A pocket watch?" Ingrid gave Xiuyang a worrying look. "Do... do you not know what a pocket watch is. I didn't think it was that uncommon. I can get you one back at Ersand'Enise if you want." She offered whole heartedly.

Rikard tilted his head and leaned in to examine it. "A pocketwatch with a regular alarm..." he posited, straightening. "It appears that Ingrid has given up on the concept of stealth forever," he added glumly.

"Yes, I have one. Here, you can have one that doesn't emit the screams of the damned." She pulled her own pocket watch out, returning Ingrid's sass. "You know what I'm really asking," she insisted, more stubborn than their mutual friend Roslyn.

"I'm 6'4 and blessed by Ipte, I was never going to stealth, Rikard." she strunk a joking pose and with that her outfit changed to something striking for the group. "And there's that."

SHRIEK...

"It's a little busted, alright? Every 5 seconds it makes that noise and I haven't replaced it" She waited 2 seconds.

SHRIEK...

"See?"

The tethered made the sign of the pentad and glanced around nervously. She shook her head, twisting about on the spot. "No," she corrected Xiuyang. "It is for yayechna vidʹma." She made the pentact again. "Ze egg witch."

"Uh... sure. You're the egg witch now, Ingrid. I'll allow it."

"Better than Barbarian or Sea Giant," Ingrid shrugged. "I'm still partial to Ingy."

The tethered girl's eyes darted around in alarm. "No no no," she protested. "Is to keep egg witch away!" She regarded them earnestly: Ingrid's rueful smile, Xiuyang's sarcastic mirth, and Rikard's stifled laughter. She blushed fiercely. "You know I am official student of Ersand'Enise!" she tried, twisting about and straightening proudly. "I am only making ze joke about -" Her voice dipped precipitously. "yayechna vidʹma."

Xiuyang tried to wrack her brain and remember if Ingrid ever carried such a plain-looking pocket watch before, but other thoughts clouded her mind, such as the fact that she'd asked a weird and possibly personal question and insisted on an answer when it wasn't just the two of them. Why did she do that? *Because any day now, I might never see her again,* her heart answered, and she realized she was being selfish.

"Uh, really? I've never seen you before," she replied to the girl, quickly changing the subject.

Rikard glanced Xiuyang's way and then back. "Well, as scary as... the egg witch is, I do think we should try to see if there's more to find, and be ready to fight."

"And hear I thought you were saying I could finally bewitch something," Ingrid wallowed in her failed romances and attempts. "I hope there is some fighting to wake me up, maybe a little wrestling match." She stretched to keep herself awake.

SHRIEK...

"Let's get a move on."

"Yeah, we should, uh, find someone who can like... be on dragon watch duty." She lowered her eyelids and gave Rikard, Ingrid and Roslyn a meaningful look.

The tethered girl nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Is most important job. Ziss should go to stronkest mage, yees?"

Rikard nodded in agreement, eyes flicking over the absurd foreigner. "Or the person with the longest range and greatest skill." He looked towards the tethered almost reverently.

Ingrid looked slyly at Xiuyang, "她可能是她自己, 也可能不是. 如果她是的话, 我不会冒险把它送给 Roslyn." though her response seemed to trail off as she heard the conversation with Rikard and the 'tethered'

No, I agree, the optics of giving it to anyone else would be terrible, and her information was useful. Still, assigning her as our Tethered lookout is an unconscionable risk. We should find someone we can trust. She replied to Ingrid in Rettanese, giving Rikard an invisible, disappointed side-eye.

I can see your poin—

SHRIEK...

Ingrid silenced the fish before it made an incident.

—t. My sensing range is pretty good from atomic practice and I can 'see' heat so maybe I should. Her words were quieted at the end. She seemed rather unsure if she could manage despite her words.

Roslyn had caught the look Xiuyang flashed her. She had to admit something felt off about this woman, but she couldn't place what. Part of her thought she was being paranoid and wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Upon hearing the ReTan pouring out between Ingrid and Xiuyang... Roslyn took a deep breath. She hated standing here like an idiot with no clue of what they were saying.

"Well, I think the trail is getting cold if we're just standing here." She adjusted the eggs and then floated them down onto the ground. "So we have idea where to look next for clues? Based on the possible theory we have, I don't know of any way to track a rider on a dragon. They would be long gone before the hours of Ipte ended."

"We'll have to question the locals. Thankfully wyeou saved a lot of them." Xiuyang faked a hiccup. "I'll relay my concerns to the Zenos while you do that, and then probably fall asleep under a table or something." She took a drink from her gourd.

"We haven't searched too much, Ms..." she shook her head realizing she hadn't found out her name. "My apologies, what is your name, I can't keep addressing you as Ms. Vossoriya for too much longer."

"I am from a faraway country, but I am not stupid person," the - was she Vossoriyan or not? - interjected. "You are not trusting of me." She pursed her lips and nodded. "Reasonable. Fair, even. You can call me Svitlana, or Lana." She shrugged. "Is same to me." Then, she closed her eyes and reached out. "There are still few small fires that are burn in other part of ze city." She pointed due east. She took a deep breath. "Ze tree is..." she trailed off and opened one eye, just a peep. "She is almost dead," the girl squeaked. "She is wery close." She swallowed and shook her head.

Then, she flicked some hair behind one of her great big peasant shoulders and closed both eyes again. "Then... we have ze river is not boil now, and..." She stiffened suddenly, and her eyes flew open. "Beeg drakon!" She reached down and snapped her wheels unlocked, whirling on the spot. "Beeg drakon souss!" She nodded anxiously. "He is crossing ze river!"

Roslyn rubbed the back of her neck, feeling a bit ashamed. "Roslyn." She offered her own name up as she listened to the rest. At the mention of the dragon, she glanced at her friends before she shot off toward the river.

Her jaw clenched at hearing the state of the tree. Her distrust if Svitlana was a tethered shook off and the thought of confirming the tree's state. It made her sick to her stomach. But she calmed, she needed to stay tepid, emotions were quick to throw her into a spiral. A deep breath and...

SHRIEK...

"Ingrid Penderson, Ingy for friends." she gave her name quickly. With the arrival of a dragon, Ingrid felt she needed to head off. Whether it was anger bubbling over or simply being more experienced, she began to heat her leaded box, preparing for battle.

"Wery nice to meet you," Svitlana replied hastily, but then they had bigger problems to deal with. She paused, hands on wheels. "I should stay here?" she asked bemusedly. The terrain ahead was rough and broken. A massive energy signature loomed in the distance, not that the others could sense it yet. Her arms and shoulders flexed and strained and, within moments, much of the group was moving.

youtube.com/watch?v=XCRYDMj0UIg&list=…

The group began to pull on the movement in the air to propel themselves toward to a potential suspect for the burning of the tree. Dozens of numpets, washed out of the river by rain and explosions line the way and the foreign helpers struggled to get past them. Ingrid was the first to arrive given her greater mobility and strength than the literal children and wheelchaired tethered.

Ingrid sensed a massive, hulking form. It was obese and slow-moving. It appeared to be sitting in the river and it was... eating something. Perhaps.... a horse? She did not sense a rider, though his or her energy signature may just be melding with that of the dragon at this range.

There, in the middle of a wide slow muddy river lay a vast hulking monster of a dragon. It was... a truly horrifying sight. In its mouth was not a horse, but...

An entire skuggvar.

The King Coal Toad, one of the five legendary dragons of the Twin Continents, was gorging itself on the carcass. For a moment, Ingrid could take solace in the fact that it hadn't seen her. Its vast dread maw made a horrible crunching, slurping sound as it ate.

Then, it turned: first one large round eye slid towards her. It let out a low rumbling croak. Then, the other. Then, its head. It was the largest coal toad she had ever seen: easily eighty feet in length, equally wide, and towering nearly forty feet in height. The beast's eyes were upon her.

Ingrid readied illusions for the coming battle.

The four of them stare down the hulking monster. It lets out a low rumbling warning croak.
Svitlana, thoroughly out of breath, takes a moment to catch it.

"Maybe we should've gone to get help?" Roslyn whispered, fighting not to tremble.

"Ziss," she panted, "is not ze sing tat dropped ze bomb." She shook her head, eyes wide. "I am supposed go to Ersand'Enise," she squeaked. "I am not wanting to die."

Rikard landed smoothly, writhed in lightning. "Prepare to eat shit, frog."

"I sink it already does ziss," Svitlana countered. "It is not look picky."

"It wants to eat the dead and potentially erase evidence," Ingrid's illusion began to spread out.

Svitlana made the sign of the pentad. She prayed rapidly in Menskuvan.

Rikard watched the creature closely. "I don't think it's the one that caused this, though: just an opportunist."

"Still going to create issues if it sticks around. So how do we get rid of it?" Roslyn asked.

"Drop the temperature of it and the water, it might leave," Ingrid called out to her more active members.

Svitlana regarded the other three. "Is true. When we wish for getting toad drakons off ze land, we make zem cold." She nodded, already starting to draw

Roslyn nods then inhaled, drawing all her courage. She focused on drawing all the heat from the water and air around the creature.

The illusions served to keep it on multiple targets make it feel outnumbered. Ingrid began to draw heat, trying not to freeze it but to make it uncomfortable. She wasn't stupid enough to fight it if it knew she was there…

The water temperature dropped precipitously, and Svitlana grimaced. "Ze poor plants." She shook her head. "Zey will be dying."

The king coal toad let out another rumbling croak and it was so loud and deep that each could feel it in their bones. It lifted a massive clawed webbed foot and seemed to be tensing up. "Back home," Svitlana whispered, "zey do tis as warning. Steadyyyy."

"Stand your ground," Ingrid stated rather assuredly.

The dragon eyed them and the dead skuggvar - a mighty beast in its own right - lay half-eaten at its feet. Energy began to boil. It was drawing.

"Maybe it's better to back up a bit?" Roslyn suggested.

"I spy some numpets over there. Maybe we can lure or push it over there?" Roslyn pointed over to a small island with Devilspine numpets and King numpets

Rikard nodded. He crouched low and let out a small pulse of electricity into the water.

Svitlana concentrated. Around the dragon, the river weeds grew thick and tangled. They pooled around it, sticking and constricting. It was neither elegant or fast, but it was added pressure.

Ingrid assisted, making the water behind where they wanted it to go colder to annoy it.

All at once the coal toad lifted its head, tensed up, and sprung forward in a small hop. It stepped right in the cluster of large spiny numpets and abruptly pulled its foot back. Roslyn and Svitlana used their skills in chemical magic to enhance the binding of the neurotoxins to the Koal toads nerves.

"That's for the chemical mages." Ingrid gave a thumbs up to Roslyn seeing how her plan worked.

A large angry croaking roar reverberated down the river.

While Ingrid and Svitlana were able to hunker and redirect the blast, Roslyn was blasted backward, breaking her wrist and a rib, and Rikard was hurled into a tree. His head smacked it and the world disappeared.

"Lightning boy!" shouted Svitlana, for she did not know his name. She tried to make her way over, but she was not the fastest. She stopped, then, and froze. "Rosin, are you healer?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Get Rikard!" She shouted through clenched teeth as she cradled her side, trying to steady her breath.

Ingrid merely glanced at Rikard and Roslyn's flying by. She could heal but she couldn't turn her back on the toad. "I can heal as well." She needed to keep on the aggravation and hoped it just say this as too much trouble.

Once it left, Ingrid went over to heal Rikard, "Let me help, Lana" Ingrid rested one hand on on Rikard's head the other on her staff.

The coal toad, meanwhile, with a final grumpy noise, picked the dead skuggvar up in its mouth and trundled away.

Svitlana slid out of her wheelchair and onto the ground. "If you are good healer, we heal togezer." She felt around the boy's neck and the back of his skull with practiced hands. "He's neck is not broken." She shook her head. Then, she froze. "His skull is." She swallowed, took a deep breath, and steadied herself.

"Unbind ze blood away." Svitlana, who had seemed something of a joke before, twisted Ingrid's way for a split second, a nurse in an emergency room.

Ingrid like many dozens of times before called upon the staff's power to increase her knowledge "Can do."

As Roslyn felt her body mend itself, she got onto her feet and start to move toward Rikard and the others. "How can I help?"

"You have any magnet magic?" the tethered asked Ingrid.

"Nope," She looked at Roslyn, "Any jolt might help"

"I got a little." Roslyn began to delve into her shallow knowledge of magnetic magic. She tried to pour it lightly through his veins but lacked the raw prowess to push through Rikard. Svitlana and Ingrid used what they could to assist Roslyn but things looked dire and hopeless for what felt like minutes. But eventually, his eyes began to move.

The first thing that Rikard saw when he woke up was three women leaning over him.

"Thank the Gods." Roslyn exhaled with relief.

Ingrid hugged him tightly, "How did you get sent like that!"

He sputtered and sat up. Meanwhile, on the horizon, a soft glow that had begun half an hour prior, began to spread as the sun broke through the hovering clouds.

"I was..." He glanced away.

"Trying to help me." Svitlana interrupted. "I would fly if he did not."

"I'm just happy you're not dead," Ingrid sighed a breath of relief.

"So am I," Rikard chuckled nervously, glancing at Svitlana.

"We should likely get out of here. Before something else happens." Roslyn suggested.

"Can you feel all your toes and fingers?" Ingrid asked out of concern of their novice magnetic skill.

Svitlana glanced her way for a second, something ripe on the tip of her tongue, but then she nodded. Rikard waved them off. "Yeah," he said, flexing them. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," he added. "Let's, uh... go."

The Menskuvan nodded. "Yees, I agree." She tried to turn on the spot, got stuck for a moment, and then muscled her way out. "I sink asking ze people is best idea."

"Agreed." Roslyn pushed up onto her feet as she began to walk back toward the town, gesturing for them to come along.

Rikard nodded as well. "Right, yeah. We need to question them."

"Oh!" Svitlana asked, trying to keep up, "where you people from anyway? I am Ersand'Enise student!"

"Also a student there. Homeland is Hendland." Roslyn replied without judgement, "Though, I will note... never seen you in any class or on the grounds. I think I would remember you."

Ingrid rose, wiping a stray tear from her eye. She didn't cry but how many stories do you hear about someone dying from a little hit to the head.

SHRIEK...

Ingrid turned to Lana, "We are Ersand'Enise students, sent here to put out the fires." Ingrid smiled in such a way to where she knows she is lying.

Lana froze, mid-push. Rikard's eyes darted her way - first to her chest (very briefly), and then to her face.

The tethered's expression was inscrutable. She took another push. "Oh," she remarked, and they continued in silence for a bit. "I bet you sink I am liar, hmm?" A small smile built on her face. Her gaze went briefly to each of the other three in turn.

"Nay, but I think we need a little more information to understand. At least, I do." Roslyn said, studying her face.

"My brain is a little rattled so mind telling me what I am thinking?" Ingrid smirked at her.

They were away from the river now, and on wide blessedly *flat* flagstones. Svitlana coasted along. She was doing it. It was real. These were her classmates! She nearly popped a wheelie out of joy. "I am transfer zere for new semester!" she chirped, slowing for a moment, pivoting on the spot, and throwing her arms out to the sides. "I am just on my way!" She leaned in and lowered her voice. "Portal in Enth is cheap, you know." Her smile was huge and excited and not at all like the fine lady that the vorozhka had told her she would one day become. In this moment, however, she didn't care.

"That explains it." Roslyn smiled, pleased to find things adding up. At least mostly. "Do you know what classes you have yet or will you find out when you get there? I can loan you my notes for any we have together."

"I usually fly Jojo Express so I wouldn't know," Ingrid admitted. "Glad to have you as a peer, I'll treat you to Zenobucks when we get back."

"If we all don't fall into bed first." Roslyn pointed out, then realized one of them were in a wheel. "Sorry. Bad choice of words."

"I had my fight and my cries, I'm good for another 5 moons," Ingrid waved off the tiredness. She kept an eye on Rikard. He was rather quiet, hopefully just reflecting on his mortality and not going braindead.
"Your drooping eyes says otherwise." Roslyn countered.

"Droopy so they can keep looking at all the shorties here." Ingrid snarked back.

Rikard's gaze focused on Svitlana as she spoke and, for a moment, Nipton was not a ruin in the background, but a thriving market town. Ingrid was a yasoi he didn't know. Roslyn was... an Enthish guy. Svitlana was blonde and winking at him and... No, she wasn't Jocasta! Why was Jocasta always there, at the edge of his mind?

"Good to have you!" he remembered to reply. "You could steal my notes if I took any."

Svitlana laughed nervously. "Hah! Yes!" she responded, "I would read zem all." She stifled a yawn. "If I am not falling asleep first." She shook her head. "Into bed." She stuck her tongue out, just a tiny bit, Roslyn's way, and reached up to punch her playfully on the arm. They still had witnesses to question and it would likely eat up most of their day. At least she would enter Ersand'Enise with a bang. "Oh, you should know I am actually wery tall. *So* tall!" she shot back at Ingrid. "Too bad I cannot prove it!" she harrumphed, sticking her nose up in the air and grinning.

Roslyn rubbed her arm where Lana punched. "Ouch, that hurt. You got some power behind that arm, don't you? If I need any heavy lifting, I'll give you a summons." She teased as she returned to a more seriously topic. "I think we should start in the camps then move outward. Those who are injured might have seen something before things happened."

His gaze resting on Svitlana was worrying. A new crush or something else, Ingrid couldn't tell but he spoke so she let it slide.

SHRIEK...

"Maybe I can find out at a sleepover," Ingrid winked at her. She spoke a little more seriously, "We need to keep moving and looking for clues, I can't rest until I know what happened here." She looked grimly at the tree. "Oh the poor tree."

It was in this spirit that they made their way to the camps and set about their work with the utmost seriousness, but a bit of sunshine as well. They were good people, doing a hard job, but they were doing it well, and there was room for happiness in there.

All her classmates found themselves investigating what could have truly conspired here the previous night. Ingrid was no different except she was also spurred by a duty to inform a constable of an explosive hidden in the ground.

The late night had taken its toll, baggy eyes, messy hair shuffled into a ponytail, and a strangely clean set of clothes. She shifted her weapons further back on her belt before meeting the constable, trying her best not to spook him with the whole random raider with an axe in an Enthish city.

"Constable?" Ingrid called out to one of the few available, "I was in the western end of the city last night and I buried a few kegs of gunpowder to prevent it from exploding, I was hoping that you would come with me to oversee its retrieval."

The constable Ingrid had managed to holler was bald, slightly overweight and a good half-foot shorter than her. Some would call him the typical middle-aged Enthishman. His uniform was damaged and his shining head was smeared with charcoal. Still, he patrolled for survivors and explosives, still on duty since the fire first started.

"What's that love?" inquired the man, leaning in slightly with his ear out. "Oh, that's a pickle innit? Off we go, then."

”Thank you,” Ingrid nodded and led the way there. It was silence for a minute or 2. Ingrid was tired and struggling to come up with a line of questioning before she eventually blurted something out.

”So, what part of the city were you in last night?”

The constable was not one to ramble either, at least not after having his lungs fill with smoke all night. The foreigner could handle the chit-chat if she wanted to.

"Last night? Everywhere." he spoke, the rasp in his voice returning, with his response ending with a light cough. "Was on night duty. From start t'finish, flames and war."

Ingrid nodded while maintaining her walk, mostly noting he was on night duty. ”My peers and I from Ersand’Enise appeared in the northeast camp that had been established. Everything was already on fire by the time we came.” Ingrid walked smoothly across the ground, avoiding the occasional heap of ash.

She looked up at what remained of the tree, ”Do you think you can fill me in on what you saw before we arrived?” Ingrid asked.

Constable Dupont listened, his eyes mostly on the trail forward. A few 'uh-huhs' here and there. "Hmm." he pondered for a few seconds. "Think I was by the barracks when it happened - y'know, away from the tree. Schillinger wasn't so lucky." he stopped and pointed toward the North, where one of the armories were. "Then it all exploded. I turn around and it's all on fire." his hand ventured toward the burnt tree. "It was very dark. I know something was flying above. But nothing to see or sense."

Ingrid nodded along, briefly forming the signing the pentad at the loss of another constable. ”A lot of brave men and women were lost that night,” Ingrid sorrowfully said. She looked back up to the trail, the place was mostly destroyed by the fires raging. Luckily the armory was still standing enough for her to recollect where it was.

”A dozen or so feet below is where I encased it,” Ingrid looked for permission before she dug it up.

Dupont nodded with his lips pursed upon hearing her apologies. Soon they had arrived at the burial site of the gunpowder, where he gestured his okay for her to go about it. This woman was huge and clearly an envoy from that prodigious school, she could handle it, while he sat down for a break.

"Wasn't just the middle. It was above too." he recalled while indulging in booze in a flask. "A lot of these things fell all over. A lot in houses, those on the streets rolled into alleys mostly. Some exploded after landing."

Ingrid made careful but easy work of uncovering the gunpowder. The ground where she covered it had become strangely homogenous and dense from her lack of skill. Chunks came out one at a time to ensure no accident came about.

"We came across some inside a house that hadn't detonated. They were odd, felt like dragon scales on the outside but had something inside of them." Ingrid still pondered the nature of those things. Evidence points that it was some sort of dragon but she had never heard of a dragon with such odd scales.

"Do you remember any sound or odd feeling before everything happened?" Ingrid asked after making decent headway into the ground.

Dupont heard her but thought little of what she said. Whether it was a dragon, a man, a bird or even a God, there was little he could do about it. The titans of this world had this. When asked another question, he shrugged. "No, other than a little wind right before it happened." he shook his head in his loss for words. Then he paused. "The explosions started more on one side, I remember. Got really bad there very quickly."

"And what side was that?" Ingrid asked. She finally uncovered the gunpowder, "It'll be coming up soon." She told him. Where they were to put it was a question for him.

The constable shrugged. "Think around here?" he looked around, only to see devastation around him, though it wasn't nearly as bad as other parts of town. "Wherever it got pretty bad quick before it got better." he concluded. Not quite feeling like standing up, he gestured in dismissal. "Store 'em in one of the sheds or some'in."

Ingrid nodded her head, "Think it's a good idea to leave this much gunpowder around where anyone can grab it?" She questioned it but didn't stop doing what she was told. She placed it in a nearby shed, praying it wasn't going to be looted or set off by some kids. "Alright, you were on night shift, yeah? Do you remember what time they went off or any strange people around then?" She asked a rather large question since he seems to be enjoying his seat so much.

tl;dr

The town of Nipton in Enth is ablaze and the daughter of the world tree is most likely going to burn down to nothing. Century's and students alike join Arch-Zeno Sigmund to help calm the flames and save lives. Desmond, Johann, Rikard, Ingrid, Roslyn, and Xuiyang arrive there to put an end to this calamity. The fire was put out and the lives of hundreds were saved but they were left with a mystery of what really happened here.

The Hourglass Order

Definitely a character coming soon!

The Hourglass Order

First Battle of Ceboyan

A small date

The streets of Ceboyan were choked with smoke and drenched in blood. Screamed tangled with the crackle of fire, and the scent of burning wood mixed with something far worse.

Guiliana whispered and tensed, "You're sure about this?"

"Sure enough."

She shot Alejandro a glare, "Sure enough?" The two leaned against a wall as they covered ground in the streets, taking a second to allow footsteps of strangers to click off in the distance, "Sure enough isn't good enough."

"He's a wildcard, Alejandro. We don't know who else he's dealing with."

Alejandro grinning and slightly amused, "We're all dealing with someone unknown. That's how this works."

Lowering her voice, "You know damn well what I mean."

Alejandro glanced at her over his shoulder, his expression easy, almost teasing, "And we decided this was our best option."

Guiliana grit her teeth. He wasn't wrong, and it bothered her. "If this goes sideways, we won't get another shot. If the wrong people get that information-"

Alejandro cut her off, smooth and effortless, "Then we do what we always do. Adapt. Survive. Find a new way, if we're lucky."

Guiliana exhaled sharply, he was treating this like a game, like all of it would work itself out. His attitude crawled under her skin and boiled her veins. She didn't gamble with things she couldn't afford to lose. She was always one step ahead of her target, this was Alejandro's connection, he was never ahead, always... tripping forward.

"I'm not interested in luck, Alejandro; we need to control this."

Alejandro turned to her fully now as they arrived at the door, "Then you're in the wrong city, querida."

Before she could snap back, the door opened.

The door opened up to a black man who was in stark contrast to the city. He was clean, smelled of flowers, and wore light colorful clothes. Most surprisingly, he was smiling.

"Ah hello, hello," he scanned them and slid over to the side of the door, "Please, come in, can't have too much smoke getting in."

The room seemed to mostly consist of seating furniture with easels strewed about. Dozens of portraits were stacked up and covered. "Please, take a seat."

"Now this is unexpected. A man with manners in a city on fire." Alejandro remarked as Guiliana closed the door behind them.

Lingering by the door, her arms crossed, "This is him?" Guiliana asked as her eyes narrowed on Tku.

"Were you expecting someone covered in blood and soot? Yes, this is him."

Guiliana remained cautious, "You're awfully comfortable for someone meeting strangers in a war zone."

Tku walked by Guiliana, winking at her, "How I do love someone with some spice." He took a seat to face them and the door.

"I don't worry because we can help each other here," a basket full of Belzaggic fruit materialized on the table between them.

"So would you like some or to get to business? Either is fine with me," his voice even and undisturbed her suspicion.

Guiliana's face remained firm. It was in the end out of her control. This man had a way in and could help them get what they wanted. He was right.

She took a seat and Alejandro followed but both refused the fruit. Alejandro spoke first, "Let's get to business, first things first, how are you getting us in?"

He sat there, peeling an orange. "I've examined the fort long before the fighting ever happened. I know its structure and its weak points. Simply create a hole here and there and you are in. Simple for an architect."

"Now how are you going to convince the Virangish families to leave before it's too late?" he bit into a slice of orange.

Alejandro answered Tku, "Our boats."

"Boats are good," Tku nodded with Alejandro. He would confirm his answer later.

He glanced his eyes up at the broody one, "Did you sense or hear anything when I made them," the question was posed like a statement. "Of course, I have another option if you are interested. Do know it is quite dangerous."

"The biggest issue is getting through without getting caught though you can handle that if I make the opportunity, yes?"

Guliana followed, "a hole? Will this creation of a hole be quiet? We need to remain undetected."

Tku picked a date from the bowl, giving Alejandro a smile as he did. The date fell to dust and swirled to Alejandro's side. It reconstituted just the way it was before.

"The date would be you. As I told you, more dangerous. But not many would be able to see it at night."

A night later…

“Okay that was strange.” Alejandro tugged his trousers making sure everything came with him.

Between the moment they were outside of the fort to now was a blur. Like a hazy dream and back to complete clarity.

“What I tell ya.” Alejandro jeered, Giuliana reluctantly was impressed, “Too early to cheer, but I admit, he followed through on you being The Date.”

Alejandro teasingly clapped back, “Don’t flatter yourself, I wouldn’t date you.” She didn’t engage.

“Alright let’s create some noise.” The two disguised as refugees began to take note of their targets.

Past the stone walls of Fort Limanağzı laid an inner courtyard filled with expensive trinkets though they seem less cared for in the last few days. Ash from the city laid delicately in the corners where a servant did not clean. The once boisterous parties had been halted to hushed conversation and the fear lingered though no one spoke of it.

Guards remained alert, following their laborious inspections to stop any persons who might lay siege to the fort. "Ring ring, Alejandro. It is Tku. The guards on the eastern side have settled so you have a few minutes to integrate." Tku reached out and simply sensed for alcohol, finding the tables that had wine.

"There, in the courtyard around an oval table some men are drinking, they might be a good start."

"Impressive," Alejandro commented after Tku's voice. But the stank of sweat, damp wood, and the faint acrid scent of spent powder was not impressive. The rebellion had torn through the streets, and the fort, meant to be a stronghold, had become a crumbling sanctuary, its stone halls crowded with the desperate and the displaced.

Giuliana and Alejandro moved carefully through the courtyard, blending into the masses. Their clothes were tattered, streaked with dust and sweat to match the others, their expressions carefully curated to reflect exhaustion and quiet wariness.

Off in the corner, Alejandro saw the oval table Tku directed him toward. A cluster of men gathered, slumped over mugs of cheaper, watered-down spirits. Some of them still bore the grime of battle, their tunics ripped, their knuckles bloodied. Some of these soldiers were once outside the fort protecting the streets, now finding respite with the time they had before the next attack.

Alejandro found himself next to the table. Giuliana found herself moving into a group of grieving mothers, and one of the men, thick-necked and red-eyed, glanced up at Alejandro. "You new?"

Alejandro shrugged, reaching for a half-full mug abandoned on the table. "You could say that. Escaped through the eastern gate before the whole thing collapsed. Didn't look back." He took a slow sip, letting the bitterness settle on his tongue. "What's left down there?"

The table erupted in grumbling. One man spat onto the floor. "Ruins. Blood in the gutters. Soldiers are rounding up anyone who looks suspicious, and the ones they don't kill outright, they hang."

Another man, already half-drunken and swaying, slurred, "Better to be here than down there, but not by much. This place-" He waved a hand at the battered stone wall, "-isn't gonna hold forever."

Across the yard, Giuliana had settled among a different gathering. A group fo women sat huddled near the wall, their shoulders hunched, their faces soured by sorrow. Some held small children, others clutched at torn shawls as if they could somehow hold themselves together with fraying cloth. These were the grieving mothers, the women who had lost sons, husbands, or brothers to the rebellion-or worse, to the vengeance that followed.

A woman, her hair streaked with silver, sat beside Giuliana, her hands trembling as she whispered, "They took him. My boy. He wasn't even fighting. He just... was there."

Giuliana reached for the woman's hand, her grip firm, steady. "I lost someone too," she said, her voice low, measured, weaving herself into their grief. Another murmured, "They took my brother, said they'd make an example of him." She shook her head, her nails digging into her palms. "I heard the screaming."

Giuliana let her own grief show-not for a brother or son, but for everything she had lost before. Her voice was a whisper, just enough to pull the women closer. "We can't bring them back, but we can carry their names with us if we survive."

From across the yard, Alejandro met her gaze over the rim of his cup. He gave the slightest nod, the two were exactly where they needed to be.

"I am," Tku spoke a few moments later. He had been marking guards and people out of place on a map. Scanning for all of them was impossible but he could keep track of them, note their routines.

"The vault is inside the eastern building, then going down the northern stairwell, guards lay at the end of it. We can make another entrance mid way through the stairwell or you can manage it yourself." Tku gave the choice to Alejandro, either way, Tku would adapt.

"You lucky charm," Alejandro cast a shy eye to the eastern building. Nursing his drink, leaning back enough to seem at ease but not so much that lost the air of a weary man among soldiers. He chuckled when they chuckled, muttered a curse when they grumbled, all the while listening, watching.

Then, just beyond the low hum of conversation and clinking mugs, he heard it-the first ripple of what Giuliana had set in motion.

"They're taking families to the boats," a woman's voice whispered harshly.

Alejandro didn't turn toward the sound. He kept his head angled toward the table, but his attention sharpened.

"They're evacuating?" one of the grieving mothers gasped, her voice thick with desperation.

"I don't know for sure," Giuliana murmured, her tone laced with uncertainty. "But I heard it from someone who came in an hour ago. Boats are waiting near the old docks, taking women, children, and those who can't fight."

The murmurs spread like kindling catching fire. The women clutched at each other, hope and fear ensnared.

One mother lined with grief, pressed a hand to her chest. "We have to go. We have to find out."

By the table, a soldier's head jerked up. "What boats?"

Alejandro finally glanced up, eyes half-lidded, lazy, as if catching onto the conversation. He could see the confusion rippling through the drunken soldiers around him. A few shared uncertain glances.

"The hell's she talkin' about?" One slurred. "We'd know if there were boats."

The conversation shifted. Some scoffed, waving it off, others looked to the officers' quarters, as if expecting orders.

Alejandro leaned forward, his voice loud enough to be heard. "Command didn't say anything about getting us out of here," he muttered, feigning irritation, "Unless they kept it quiet to keep the damn place from panicking."

That set off another wave of murmurs. Giuliana's voice rose, "Please, you have to ask someone. If there's a chance-if we can save our children-"

The women clung to the words, their grief becoming a movement. A few of them were already standing, wringing their hands, eyes darting toward the entrance, expecting to see salvation waiting for them.

A younger soldier, barely past twenty, stood abruptly, knocking his chair back. "I-I'll go check with the watch commander."

"Sit your ass down," a grizzled veteran growled, draggin' him back down by his shoulder. But the doubt was already settling in.

Alejandro sighed, a running hand over his face. " If this turns into a whole damn mess, someone's getting chewed out," he muttered, pushing back from the table. "I'll see what I can find out."

He didn't wait for permission. He just stood, stretching, rolling his shoulders, as though this was another nuisance in a long day of them. But as he moved, he caught Giliana's eyes across the room.

The plan was working.

Confusion was spreading and soldiers distracted, Aejandro needed to slip away before anyone started asking too many questions. It was time to get into the vault.

As he made his way to the eastern building, the voices of discontent grew and the soldiers were having difficulty controlling the cries and demands of the grievers.

"Alright, Tku, make me an entrance."

Guards were shifting attention toward the courtyard. Some taking steps from their posts but not leaving it. They didn't have much time before someone calmed them down or hell broke loose.

He could feel the chaos in the fortress. Parties who were still before now moved and worried so visibly. The heart of the courtyard gave to waves of worry and panic. It was a remarkably quick turn of events

"Oh they are good," Tku made note of it for... future use.

At the signal, a rather peculiar oval appeared, just enough room for Alejandro to slide through, "Apologies my Torrogonese friend but it is just enough for you."

The opening led just past the guards, "They haven't seemed to notice, you're good to continue."

Tku wasn't kidding. Alejandro stepped high inside the thick stone dematerialized window.

Inside, he realized where he was, "Shit." Alejandro said as the window closed behind him, and he fell back to press his body lean against it. He was in the officer's quarters.

The quarters was modest and dark, with a sturdy desk carved from dark oak. A quill and inkwell sat beside a half-written report, the parchment curling slightly at the edges.

Moving swiftly, his steps silent from the gift as he crossed the desk. Rifling through the papers, eyes scanning for anything of value-names, orders, movements... the dead. He pocketed anything promising before turning his attention to the lockboxes.

With a pick and a precise twist-click. The boxes opened. He grabbed it all, stuffing it into his satchel. The vault would be outside the office, down the hall, and at the back.

The sound of boots approached the door. The handle jiggled, and Alejandro moved to the side where he wouldn't be seen behind the door when it swung open. A man dressed in uniform walked in, focusing on the desk.

Alejandro tipped toed around the door and into the hallway as the door shut behind him. It was here that the hall was rather empty. Most soldiers must've been on watch, rotating, or gathering what rest they could.

The further Alejandro moved down the corridor, the more both sides seemed to press in, tapping the cold air like a tomb, carrying the scent of mildew, old iron, and burnt tallow from torches flickering in their brackets.

At the end of the corridor, the spiraled steps descended into darkness, perhaps Eschirand's belly? He felt the chill deepen as he went lower. The weight of the fort above settled around him, and the silence of the dungeon crept into his bones until he stepped into the wide chamber at the base.

The room was cavernous, its high stone ceiling supported by thick pillars, the walls lined with racks of old weapons. At the center of it stood the vault door-thick, reinforced, covered in a glow only that which is sealed with wards would show, and... it pulsed, faintly, like a heartbeat.

Alejandro pulled the enchanted key Tku gave him from his tunic, it's surface cold as frost, carved was delicate inscriptions of shimmering light, steadying himself, then pressing it to the center of the ward.

The magic reacted instantly. The glow flared like the teeth of a wolf snapping before sinking its canines into prey. The energy crackled, twisting, unraveling like threads pulled from a veil. Then it-faded.

The door was unguarded.

But as soon as the last of the ward collapsed, a deeper magic surged through the chamber. Alejandro felt it before he heard it-something became aware of him.

He didn't have time. The vault door groaned open, air humming as it swung inward. Alejandro pressed forward, the chamber ignited by his arcane flare. Walls were lined with iron-bound chests. A long wooden table in the center bore scattered documents, maps, and ledgers, many of them marked with sigils indicating their sensitivity. Some scrolls were sealed with wax and stamped with the insignia of noble houses, others with foreign emblems Alejandro didn't immediately recognize.

Along the far end of the room, an ornate cabinet stood, its wood darkened with age and its handles shaped like coiled serpents. Alejandro could feel the residual magic emanating from within held something important.

To the left, a series of pigeonhole compartments stored coded messages and correspondence between generals, commanders, and perhaps spies. The ink on some pages was distorted, while others remained true and tight.

He had to be quick. He pulled a box that Tku had offered him to shove many of these things in, and he called to him, "Tku, how do I work this box?" Like a child, Alejandro toyed with it as he waited for an answer.

Calmly trekking through the city with a rather serious band of people. Tku always stayed just a few feet away from the rest. It distinguished him and gave him room to operate.

A sonic bubble came up around him. "Ah you made it there. Good. The item Item has 6 faces. One face should have an image of lock and on the oppisite is a key. Place the key side against the vault entrance and mentally prepare yourself. Once you do that repeat these words exactly..."

There was a break in communication.

A palaparese man addressed him, "Tku, how is your progress on the gate."

"It's being resisted, they seem to have a skilled binder, put pressure on the walls and an opportunity will surely arise," Tku assured.

The man didn't have full faith but they continued either way.

" 'The Doge's left toe' "

Alejandro heard the instructions, he pressed the six-sided device with the key face facing the vault entrance. It was an odd incantation, but Alejandro didn't question "The Doge's left toe." The box shuddered, and Alejandro hastily shoved gold, documents, and sealed scrolls all inside.

Then the world shook.

A thunderous explosion from above rattled the fort, sending dust cascading from the vaulted ceiling. The impact of rebel cannons cracked stone. Alejandro stumbled and yet still on his feet. Minutes were all he had before the vault became his tomb.

As he made his way to the door, something worse, the sound of boots thundered down the spiraled steps. The guards were coming. He slammed the device shut, locking the vault's treasures inside. Placing it back into a pouch, there was no time for subtlety now. He exhaled, centered himself, and drew in for his magic.

An illusion flickered for a moment, then solidified, appearing as real as Alejandro himself. He smirked, "What a masterpiece if I do say so myself." Alejandro dipped behind the vault door in the corner behind a beam. The guards stormed in, swords drawn, muskets aimed, "There he is!" one barked.

Alejandro didn't wait. The moment their attention locked onto the illusion, he twisted on his heel, thrusting both hands forward. A concussive blast of kinetic energy erupted from his palms, slamming into them. He exited and did the same to the vault door to shut it before they could go after him. The heavy door boomed shut, sealing the guards inside before they could realize what happened.

Turning up the stairs, he quickened. Down the corridor there were more guards, "They're trapped in the vault, get the watch commander!"

As some listened, others froze, and few asked any questions. They just kept moving to the beat of other drums. Alejandro at the door brushed by at the exact moment the watch commander, too, walked by. The two exchanged no glance, only that Alejandro's hands slipped into a pocket and took a precious keepsake.

Upon exiting the eastern building he saw the unrest had only grew further out of control. An entire rotation of guards were trying to control the hysteria and false rumors of salvation among the grieving. The gates to the fort were being pushed back and forth as people demanded their freedom to make a run for the docks. It was pandemonium.

Alejandro navigated his way back, into the crowd, and found Giuliana who was yelling at some guard to release her and the others.

"It's time to go." He tugged her shirt. She identified him and followed, "Tku, get us out of here."

Tku had been connecting rebel groups for the moment, settling them into their places and leading the timing of the attack. He had time to get them out, just a few minutes before the attack was all he needed.

And then, someone fired early. A single canon shot prematurely, smacking into the wall with little to no effect. From there another and a roar of the rebels. It had happened early!

"For Dami's sake," he cursed as irritation swept over him. People now asked him about the gate, "takedown the gate!"

Alejandro got what he could and needed a way out. The gate was dangerous, too many rebels. "Head to the sea wall," he cleared his mind of the distractions.

He drew upon the void and blasted the stone with dark energy, deleting pieces and then crumbling it with Blood magic. His eyes went bloodshot and his nose bled. It was a large area to cover but he needed to. "There, an exit my friend."

Alejandro snatched Giuliana’s forearm and took off toward the wall where Tku’s heroic effort made an impression, a big one.

As they launched across the yard, the watch commander yelled, “Get them!” Guards who weren’t actively occupied by the fierce grieving mob rattling on the gates began chase.

Soon it wasn’t only the guards. It was all the desperate families looking for a way out of the frying pan. Alejandro and Guiliana used their kinetic to speed them far from the guards who were gained on by grievers.

To the docks they ran but could they get out with all they had?

Tku cleared the blood from his nose, "A wall has fallen! Keep pushing the gates!" Tku gave word to the rebels, spreading some hope among them that the fort would soon fall.

With his own manas stretched, his absolute control over the kites lessoned so he went to the docks himself, "Hello, it's me. They should be coming soon, try to shake their pursuers."

"Okay," came a hushed voice.

"I'll be there soon."

No voice came this time.

Down the crags of the cliffside from fort to port the Revidian agents bounded like lions chasing meat. It was a feat to see if one did but in the midst of cat and mouse, the hounds broke the bars to the gate. Many would not see the next 10 minutes in their wake.

Those who could keep up were soon thwarted by Tku’s companions. The path was clear and Alejandro, Giuliana, and Tku were safely aboard as Torragonese freelance sailors, friends of Alejandro set the sails.

Some families would get through but all in all. Most saw their last light.

The Hourglass Order

An Early Morning

Cloth rustled and slid over Guy’s body as he dressed himself before the sun set upon his dorm. He was quiet, softening his steps as he walked through the house, especially near Tekah’s room; she wakes at the slightest noise. He slipped through with no issue making his way to the kitchen. A sonic bubble set over the room like a veil as he rummaged through his recipe box. Each recipe was given to him as he gained the trust of various people. He only placed them in the kitchen to flesh out his cover. They served 2 purposes now with Tekah’s inquisitive palette.

He grabbed a recipe he got from a shy woman from the Drudgunzean Union. She had some pull in a free city in Kerremand so it was his imperative to get closer. Somehow this recipe landed in his lap. He slipped it next to the candle to read the recipe, “Butter, flour, salt, white sugar, water.” He turned to the back and read what felt like copious instructions and precisions that Guy didn’t really understand but all he was good at was following orders.

Or so he thought as the kitchen turned into a place of nightmares, enough to give the soldier anxiety. But the dough was done and it looked questionably alright. Guy questioned if it was even workable but he still needed to continue, he only had an hour left.

An hour later, “Tekah!” he projected at her door, “Be out here in 10 minutes.” Guy set the table for the 2 of them. Spiced gruel, quartered figs, soft cheese, and a honey pot in the center next to the pitcher. It was rather luxurious.

Tekah opened her door half a minute before Guy called her again. She was not yet dressed for the day but she had the decency not to come out completely disheveled. She helped herself first to the pitcher of water, pouring a glass to almost overflow. Just a single drop more and the tension holding it in place would give. Satisfied with her perilous glass, she sat down in front of the breakfast that she had grown used to.

“More gruel! My fevoreet,” she snickered as she started to pour honey on it.

Guy reached out and stopped the tilt of the jar before it became honey and gruel, “That had been enriched with cream and spices.” Guy slipped the jar out of her hand and put a significant dolop of honey on his as well.

Tekah tasted it, obviously trying to guess what her dad had put in this time. “Ceenaummoon, clove, salt…” she looked at her dad for hints.

Guy gave no such hints as he started eating.

“Pepper?”

“Nope.”

“Cardeemoon.”

“Guess again.” He read a small book that he kept in his breast pocket.

She took another spoonful, rubbing her temples to call forth greater insight. “Nautmeg?”

He let her sit there.

“Nautmeg!”

“There you go,” Guy put down his book and handed her a fig as he got up.

“YES!” she reveled in her success. The gruel tasted even richer now.

“Your palette has improved day by day,” Guy made a furtive swipe of something from the cabinet, hiding it behind his back.

“Only because yoo keep seing eet’s—” large air quotes, “—praupper.” she rolled her eyes.

“So I shouldn’t spend money on unique things for you to taste,” Guy walked next to her and looked down at her with a mischievous grin.

She thought of her words carefully, her treats were on the line! “Eye maust se, trening my palette to bee maure deescerning hes geeveen me maure too taulk about weeth my friends,” she said as clearly as she could. “So thenk yoo,” she hoped, no prayed, she had dissuaded her father’s decision.

He could let her squirm but he didn’t have the taste for that today, ”Fine fine, you have done well enough. Have a new treat.” He pulled out a small basket of apple turnovers.

Her eyes went wide as she grabbed one without hesitation, biting through the flaky layers and stewed apples at the center. The spices were the same as the gruel and she could actually tell. But a part of her seemed hesitant or inquisitive now that she really smelled the air.

“Why deed yoo meke eet?” Tekah asked.

”Oh? What make you say I made them and that I just didn’t go out to get them?”

“The smell of aupple en the room es fent baut still here,” Tekah confidently answered. She crossed her arms and went into thought, “Baut why meke them? Why toode? Thet’s whaut Eye don’t know.”

Guy carried a smile the entire time to not give anything away. Look at her, going past simple deductions and questioning the motives and causes on her own. Her training is going excellent by any metric. Magic, language, wits, skill. All of it. I couldn’t be prouder of her.

”No particular reason, I just wanted to make them for you.”

She rolled her eyes, “Keep your secrets!” She pouted but took another bite and quietly said “Thenk yoo”

”Your welcome, get ready to school when your done eating. We have a busy day at the farm and garden today.”

”Okey!” Tekah proceeded to eat all but one apple turnover.

The Hourglass Order

Dias de Fortuna

---

The day of Fortuna, the Berry Bowl, the first day of Rezain, whatever you want to call it, was a festive day for the students of Ersand’Enise. People drank and played their games of chance and prayed for a good harvest in the coming weeks. The day was the same for Ingrid, she drank and played and ate all the berries she was allowed. A broken tooth, some blue fingers, and a feeling of impending doom, what a day it was.

Surrounded by friends and berry wine was what she needed to nurse her woes from Bog. Seeing people having fun she came and played a prank on Rikard, he was like a little brother she wanted to tease a little because he was always so smart. A blue crown for the king of greed. It was all fun she thought, she didn’t think it was going to get so mean. I mean, I saw that it could get that mean but when would it go that sour? Stupid eyes showed me a future where they would all be laughing.

Rikard ran off in anger after casting dangerous magic, and Ingrid was compelled to follow. He was gifted in movement but maybe it was emotions that slowed him as Ingrid never lost sight of him. She thought she was secretly trailing him but she must have made it too obvious.

"I know you're following me," Rikard shouted back, but his voice was cracking. "Kindly fuck off."

"Sure, but can I follow you for now?" Ingrid kept up rather easily.

"No," he snapped back with halfhearted spite. "You're just here to make... sport of me again."

"I mean tag is a sport but I promise I'm not going to do something." Ingrid pleaded.

"I just want to make sure you're okay, that's all."

"Well I'm not!" Rikard replied. "You made sure of that: you and Marci and Raffie and fucking... Fiske! What was it? Just... Rikard hunting season!?"

"And I'm sorry for what I did. I can't speak for the others but I thought we were good friends, one that could mess with each other." She called back using sonic magic to not just broadcast to the school.

"It went too far, you're right. The intentions don't matter if someone is getting hurt."

"Once is 'messing with each other. Literally everyone except for Roslyn - who's never seen a wall she didn't wanna flower on - is really fucking different, you know. You've always been like that, though." Was the last bit an accusation or the start of an invitation to talk? He still hadn't turned. He was still stalking angrily away. By the way that his figure heaved and moved, it was clear that he was crying and would not show it.

Ingrid noticed, how could the master of crying and apology tours not notice? "I don't notice, things go too far before I realize it. From a talk to an argument before a minute passes. At least I have been told. It's easy to not notice, harder to see." Ingrid didn't push past to see his face, she was raised well enough that seeing him cry would only make it worse. Whether it was an accusation or not, Ingrid didn't care. She was here and she would admit that because it was the truth.

Rikard stopped abruptly. He stopped and he turned and he was small and crying. "I just wanna be someone, like he was, and no matter how hard I try, nobody respects me. Nobody even really likes me." He shook his head, still self-absorbed and (mostly) ignorant of Ingrid's own admission. "Abdel is always with Maura and Fiske was always with Marcie and Seviin won't even talk to me unless she's trying to like... convert me." He snorted with weak mirth. "I'm just always the stupid little kid who shoots lightning bolts out his ass." He took a few steps to the side and slumped into some sacks of potatoes leaning against a wall.

Ingrid listened, shifting to his side as she listened to the cries of the young man, and how pathetic they were. Almost as pathetic as lusting after every man and woman on this damn campus last year. So she could relate. "I do think people like you. And for what it is worth, I like you. We were buddies since we both looked at that date together in the Rettanese Groove."

"Hey! You are not a stupid kid!" she bumped him on the shoulder and soured her face towards him. "Being respected is all good but you can't compare yourself to him. You could be better in so many ways." Ingrid looked wishfully at the Forked Tower. "Respect comes randomly and honestly has little to do with what you do at times. That man, Ren, He's strong and oh so respected but is an utter jack-off. Your science, your curiosity, your dedication, your bravery facing the Violet Enclave. All of that has earned respect. You just can't feel it yet because you're chasing still."

Rikard waffled between hope and scrunching up his face in dejection. They were nice words, but he felt pathetic just being here and having Ingrid have to talk to him like some sort of... counselor. Was she just telling him what she thought would make him feel better? For a moment, he clenched his fists tightly.

Then, he let them slack. If she was here, it was because she cared enough to be. Ingrid was an idiot sometimes - Who was he kidding? So was he. - but she was a good enough person. She was... kind of a friend. For a moment, as he looked at her, his eyes started to slide downwards, to her chest, to her waist. To... He stopped himself. He'd tripped honestly, but he'd contrived to fall draped over Marci. He didn't know why he'd done it. It was stupid and everyone had to have seen through it and it was wrong. Marci wasn't some thing that was just there for him to have fun with.

A terrible guilt seized Rikard's stomach, and its twin was anxiety. This was Marceline, who he'd sat beside in like... three classes, who he shared his lunches with sometimes, who he'd worked with on that play in drama class where they'd played Sigismund and Dorothea. His heart beat faster. He remembered the sound of her voice when she delivered the line: "I can say I love thee not, so well as I might tell a lie." He remembered sitting, sun-dappled, under a tree in the Arboretum with her when they'd had that unexpected spare when Mr. Secto had come down with food poisoning. He'd used her. He'd hurt her, and she'd been angry. He balled his fists up again. "I deserved it," he concluded, "some of it." He shook his head. "I need to apologize to Marci. Ipté, I need to apologize!" They could be enemies forever. She could hate him!

"Then by all means," Ingrid pushed off of the wall, "go, she's probably with Desmond."

Rikard started to rise, but then he stopped. "Uh..." He breathed a couple of times. "You think she's still mad at me?" He swallowed. "I like her," he squeaked. "I like her and..." He trailed off and looked down at the ground. But she's dating Fiske. Kinda.

Her eyes sharpened on him, "Maybe but that shouldn't stop you. Life is hard and if you feel genuine remorse for doing that to her, then you should apologize. Just make sure you try not to do it again or you will be giving apologies tours." she winked, making fun of herself.

"As for liking her when she is might be dating another, I've chased 2 people like that and it didn't work out well, just go into it knowing it might not work," Ingrid gave a last bit of advice. It really never worked well, both times they ended up possessed, and one time she ended up dead.

Rikard swallowed. He composed himself and nodded. "I'm... sorry if I made an idiot of myself," he admitted, "or... if I made you feel bad." His fingers curled and uncurled nervously. "I uh... should go talk to her." He nodded slowly to himself and started moving. Then, he stopped, swaying forward and back momentarily on the balls of his feet. "Thanks, Ingrid, by the way." Perhaps embarrassed, he scampered quickly away.

"Eh, everyone makes a fool of themselves here, some more than others." Ingrid shrugged. "Look," she presented herself with a twirl, "I'm just fine, come talk to me after if you want or need me, my door is open for you." Ingrid started to head off to her dorm as the alcohol had started to make 3 forked towers. "Too many berries."

The Hourglass Order

A Dastardly Day

A Silly Goose

After buying the book of dastardly magic, Tku found himself researching it with some fervor. He believes that its content may be greatly influential for his time in Palapar. Days of search led him to leaning on a questionable Zeno, Mathijs Wolter Van der Waal, for assistance. It was well known to those who partook in the dark arts knew his name well. He was also known to have a devious, mercenary like barring to himself but Tku was not one to judge purely on rumors. I mean, maybe he would take advantage of me when I was a mere student on a scholarship but now that we are closer to colleagues, I should approach with less fear! Tku thought as he entered the meeting room in the grand library.

He set to book in Zeno Waal’s hand and…Mathijs takes the book and disappears in a puff of smoke, cackling evilly.

”Well shit,” was all Tku could say. He simply went about his day with an air of shock.

A little over a week later, Tku still felt the sting of his most expensive possession being snatched by the most dubious of Zenos. While he was wallowing in his room, painting the visage of his dastardly book, he received a knock at his dorm. Answering with an artist's smile, he looked down to see a goose.

”Are you here for a portrait?”

“Honk!”

”I see.”

And Tku did see! A satchel was attached to its back. He brought over his dinner, a nice fillet of white fish, and held it in his hand as he removed the parcel from his back. A message and a tube were found. Unrolling it he found… A bunch of gibberish in a language he was not proficient.

”Oh, a literal goose chase.”

“Honk!”

"Do you need a signature—” The goose left abruptly without a honk.

“—oh, well have a good Victendes, Eshiran be with you." He shut the door and thought about how to get hold of Kaureerah of the eeaiko Zeno. "Maybe she will send me swimming this time." He tapped his chin and considered, would she just take the book for legitimate concern? Probably, Tku speculated.

Tku went on his registry, attempting to find somewhere else who may translate Akiran for him. It was only a moment before he saw a tidbit from Roslyn. "Oh Kaureerah's sister has made it into town, I guess we could lend each other a hand."

"Ring ring, Keearah Hakeelah Wenhan. This is Tku, friend and artistic rival of Kaureerah. I have a piece of Illuminated script from your region and was wondering if you be willing to earn some money translating it." Tku placed the script on a podium. Might as well get some sketch practice in.

"Hy-dee-ho?" answered a chirpy little eeaiko voice that sounded just a bit like Kaureerah's. Then, Tku spilled out a whole bunch of words. "Oh, my seester." There was a pause. "Yoo coold heve left aut te rest. Yoo hed mee et 'mauney'." She provided him with an odd-looking address near Bath House and told him to be there at 2:00 HE.

"Okay, see you there and I assume you don't want your sister knowing so no worries on that. I heard of you through the cutest hendlish girl."

Tku, being a man of integrity, heads over there without telling anyone because why would he worry about that?

It was nearing sunset when Tku arrived in the area. There were the mansions of Bath House, the beach houses, businesses, and little shelters where people camped out for the day to hang their hammocks. It was still very warm, being early Rezain, and most of the beachgoers were now at the stage of lazing about, barbecuing, and getting in their last bit of sunbathing. Some were already heading back for the day. Some were in the Swirl, where Keearah's sister had worked.

72 3⁄4 Maritime Lane, Bath House

72 3⁄4 Maritime Lane, Bath House

The first trick was to find this so-called 'Maritime Lane.'

Tku approaches 2 children on the beach, they always knew the going about, "Excuse me, may I have a moment of your evening?"

The children were busy playing 'sneaky shark' around a trio of scantily clad women when Tku asked for their attention. Though Tku was unaware of what they were doing.

They looked up annoyedly. "Now we're busted, old man!"

"Yeah! We waus eenveeseble aunteel nauw!"

"Whatchu want, unc?"

Ah the throws of youth! How creepy. "Unc? I am not an unc yet!" he wanted to argue but that is the definition of unc.

"I was wondering if you knew of this address, 72 3⁄4 Maritime Lane, Bath House? I don't come here very often."

The two boys considered. "Hmm," pondered Kebaub aloud.
"Well, Maritime is just what we call anything that's right on the sea. It's like..."

"E feke road!" Kebaub interrupted.

Luuras nodded. "Just so."

He furrowed his brow. "That number is pretty wacky, though."

"Thees ees..." Kebaub began counting on his fingers. "Ebaut 40 here."

"Yeah, that lil beach shelter," Luuras added helpfully.

"72 woold bee weeeyyyyy aup there." Kebaub pointed north. The two boys looked at each other, eyes widening. "Near Shipwreck Bay," they both whispered, in their different accents: Mycormish and Keeleeakuan, if Tku had to guess.

Tku nodded his head, "I see, that's quite the ominous sounding place. I guess that is where I'm heading?" He scratched the side of his head, "Well thank you, take this for ruining your shark hunt," he handed them an incantor. "Take care!" we waved to them as he left.

"WHOAAAA!!!" the boys exclaimed. "Unc is loaded!"

"Thenk yoo!"

"Good luck!"

"Hey, let *mee* see eet!"

"Okay, but just for a second."

"Hey, weyt e meenoote -"

The waves and the breeze, and the sounds of distant revelers took the rest of their words away. Tku soon found himself in an area where the beach narrowed to a small ledge at the base of great cliffs. The shelters were, indeed, numbered, but Tku had failed to notice it. He continued on his way for quite a distance until he reached an area where there was no reliable beach at all. Large waves rolled up the narrow band of sand to thump against the base of the cliffs.

There was a great deal of debris scattered about and, in the near distance, the skeletal frame of a shipwreck, and a second one in the distance.

"How can I still be this bad at directions? You think I started traveling because I took the wrong boat. Twice." He laughed at his own inadequacy.

"Do I call? Is it there? No harm in looking in." Tku set forth into the shipwreck.

Inside of the shipwreck, he found a small plaque: 72 ¼.

"So they are numbered," Tku nodded in surprise before heading off to find the actual address. Somewhere between was a sea elephant trying to come for him and he simply avoided. He had no time for such distractions.

Finally, he came upon the plaque. It was marked 72 3⁄4. Deliverance!...? It was a brick wall that looked to have once been part of the foundations of a seaside mansion that had perched on the cliffs above before collapsing with this section of the cliff. The plaque looked... relatively new, however.

"I should offer to repair the cliff side, I would hate for this to fall into the ocean... Oh, it already fell. Shame." The plaque caught his eye. It was known that everything else was rather old and was off putting. But who was he to judge someone sprucing up their plaque?

He stood there. The waves rolled in. Gulls circled overhead. The sun inched towards the horizon.

"Maybe it is like the groove," he tried pressing through it, most likely like an idiot.

For a moment, it seemed like he might be right. There seemed to be more to this. However, it seemed like he couldn't quite make it through, so he ended up just kind of walking in place, forehead pressed against a brick wall.

“Maybe... more momentum?” He thought out loud. "Time to just go for it," Tku went back a few paces and prepared to run into the wall. "If someone is here I ask that you stop me if I am going to smash against the wall, I bruise like a banana." He started to take off, having believed in the wall.

The Hokey Pokey

Tku nearly lost his balance as there was momentary existence. Then, he tumbled through the wall. It was... some sort of illusion. Inside was... a home. There were stacks of books, and some magic junk, and a lot of candles and incense sticks burning. There was a small natural pool converted into some kind of tub. An octopus rested inside of it. There appeared to be some sort of low-backed wicker chair covered in blankets, and it was right beside a large comfortable-looking sofa. On the sofa was... a woman. Well, not quite a woman. She was a girl, upon closer examination. Rather young and rather eeaiko. She was sipping tea. There was a second mug, steaming, right in front of her on a small round table sculpted from driftwood and some glassy material.

"It's amazing how hard illusions tend to be nowadays," He shook the sensation of running into a wall off him as he took in the majesty of the room. "How rather cozy, are you the owner of this space?" he waved at the octopus before taking a seat with the young girl.

"You have a knack for theatrics! Are you perhaps Keearah?" Tku inquired.

"I em perhaups Keearah eef yoo aur perhaups Tekoo."

"Well, I am Tku so you are Keearah, wonderful place this is." he gestured to the rest of the place. He took up the cup, detecting for poisons and the like before sipping, "Now, how much are you looking for translating the piece of illuminated script or is it a case by case situation?"

She did not rise, but rather stayed seated, quite snuggly under her blanket. "Eet eesn't poisauned," she assured him. "Yoo're meking e concentreteeng fece. There's oonly waun reesaun too doo thet befoore dreenkeng tee." She placed her cup on the end table and smiled, pushing up with one hand and holding the other out. "Pess me thet toobe. Eet looks lyke e good waun."

"My apologies, being a Tan-Zeno comes with some extra precautions according to my superiors. Here you are," He pulled out the tube and handed it over to her. He found himself jealous of how comfy she was. It was a lovely day for such blankets.

Keearah's eyes lit up as it touched her fingers, and she brought it quickly up beneath her nose and ran her fingers along it. Her pupils and fingertips flicked back and forth as she read. "Thees ees rere." She shook her head appreciatively. "Dengeroos." She furrowed her brow and glanced up at him. "Are yoo soore yoo waunt too caunteenue?"

Tku stopped to think. Many thoughts came and went but his question was to her, "Would it be dangerous for you to translate?" Tku was willing to risk himself on this adventure as one must when dealing with dastardly magic but he would never risk a young girl's life.

Keearah smirked. "Seet dauwn besyde me." She patted the open area of the sofa. "Yoo cen protect e helpless fer meyden."

Tku set his cup down and took a seat next to her, "I will do my best." Tku was rather comfortable but he was starting to draw to excite his manas to ready them for what might happen.

"Yoo knoow daurk megeec, ryght?"

"A little," Tku confirmed.
"Thees ees e gyde too hauw too open e daurk megeec tome." She held it up to the light that filtered in through a natural window, now covered with glass. "Eet seys you maust caumplete e speciel saummauneng dence end yoo weel be geeven e key." She cleared her throat. "Aur yoo redy?"

"Weyt!" she exclaimed after just a moment had passed. "Foorst, eet sesy yoo maust meke te speciel saumauneng coorcle." She pointed to an open spot on the smooth stone flooring that was covered with a round area rug. "Jaust moove thet. Yoo cen doo eet there."

Tku stood up, taking off his satchel and setting in next to her, "If it is dancing than I was born ready," He smirked and let out small laugh...

"A summoning circle, how large exactly?" Tku said as he moved the rug and went back to his bag to start getting his painting supplies. The Devil's brush should do for this application.

"Ebaut the syze auf the raug thet waus there," she confirmed.

She swallowed. "Thees ees... e rether strenge dence." She looked excited, but increasingly nervous. "Bee... cerefool."

He followed what instructions she could give for the creation of the summoning circle and readied himself for the dance, "I will be but we can stop if you feel to nervous, Keearah. You're safety is more important than a dance."

Keearah nodded bravely. She... began.

♪

"Eye weell try too seeng et, baut eet weell moostly jaust be nerretioon, Eye'm efreid." She cleared her throat and began.

♪

Tku readied himself.

"Foor reference, eet seems too be taulkeng ebaut the saummauneng coorcle." Then, she began.

"Yoo poot yoor ryght aurm een," she chanted solemnly. "Yoo teke yoor ryght aurm aut."

"Put your right arm in and take your right arm out" he mumbled as he followed the instructions with surprising grace. It was suppose to be a dance, after all.
Keearah nodded solemnly and continued.
"Yoo poot yoor ryght aurm een, end yoo sheke eet aull ebaut. Yoo doo the Hokey Pokey end yoo toorn yoorself eraund, thet’s whaut eet’s aull ebaut!"

♪

He shook right arm wildly, as expected of the ritual. He spun on his heels to finish the next part of the dance.

Keearah looked genuinely unsettled, but she continued.
"Yoo poot yoor left aurm een, yoo teke yoor left aurm aut. Yoo poot yoor left aurm een, end yoo sheke eet aull ebaut. Yoo doo the Hokey Pokey end yoo toorn yoorself eraund, thet’s whaut eet’s aull ebaut!"

He followed them, they were rhythmic and rather simple but it must be the 3 components coming together that will summon the key giver. He followed her words the best he could but the hokey pokey was a challenging dance without the beat to guide him well.

As if she could sense his distress over the complex ritual, Keearah began tapping on the table top with her free hand that wasn't holding the lyrics. Why she wasn't tapping a foot wasn't quite clear.

"Yoo poot yoor ryght foot een, yoo teke yoor ryght foot aut. Yoo poot yoor ryght foot een, end yoo sheke eet aull ebaut. Yoo doo the Hokey Pokey end yoo toorn yoorself eraund, thet’s whaut eet’s aull ebaut!"

A dark and formless smoke began to manifest in the centre of the room.

Tku finished with a flourish as he saw the smoke rise. He moved a few steps back, blocking Keearah somewhat. "It seems the call has worked."

"Yoo poot yoor left foot een," she continued, still tapping. "Yoo teke yoor left foot aut. Yoo poot yoor left foot een, end yoo sheke eet aull ebaut. Yoo doo the Hokey Pokey end yoo toorn yoorself eraund, thet’s whaut eet’s aull ebaut!"

The smoke began to coalesce into something smaller and more solid and... perhaps vaguely humanoid in shape?

The ritual was long, he should have worn better clothes for this event. When he could make eye contact with Keearah, he nodded to her that he could continue the ordeal. Was summoning a demon always this embarrassing? No wonder cazenax don't have good eyesight.

"Aulmoost there," the eeaiko murmured under her breath, bringing the song to its climax. The figure in the smoke began to radiate a fearsome demonic aura.

"Yoo poot yoor whole self een, yoo teke yoor whole self aut. Yoo poot yoor whole self een, end yoo sheke eet aull ebaut. Yoo doo the Hokey Pokey end yoo toorn yoorself eraund, thet’s whaut eet’s aull ebaut!"

Oh Lords of heaven above, he thought to himself as he dove into the smoke. He shook it off for all he could. The shaking was key!

Tku felt a burning sensation and the smoke swirled around him. For a moment, he could see and hear nothing. The moment stretched into eternity and yet was no time at all. Then, behind him, where Keearah was staring, there was… Levidan the Accursed. In miniature. Next, it was a giant toe. Then, the toe grew sharp teeth. It became a small sad man with a large 'L' hovering above his head. Keearah regarded it with horror in her eyes. She scrabbled back with her hands but didn't rise.

Tku gulped before settling his nerves the best he could, "Hello, may I ask if you have a key?" Tku was internally shitting himself but he couldn't show that because if he screamed and and then everyone would scream.

The tiny man screamed, and then he looked just like Tku. "I AM A KEY!" he shouted.

Tku froze for a second as he looked at himself, a little jealous of its scaling abilities. It took him forever to scale down models in the past he joked with himself to persevere. "So I need to acquire you?" Tku stood more confidently, all of it was an act but he needed such armor right now.

The small man nodded, and then he turned into a vaguely anthropomorphic key. Keearah's eyes widened and the jig was up. She floated free of the couch unsteadily, blankets sloughing away, and the sheets on the low-backed chair fluttered away to reveal the wicker wheelchair she presently seated herself in. She put hands anxiously to wheels. "Thet *theeng* ees Achmaladorax, the vendemaun auf -"

Shenanigans and Tomfoolery

"Catch me if you can!" the tier six demon giggled. "Hoo hoo hoo!" With that, he took off out the door so quickly that he was a blur, leaving only a little puff of dust behind.

♪

"Oh shit!"

"The Vendemaun of Mauckery!" Keearah finished, rolling forward anxiously. "E beeing auf aunfethaumeble pauwer..."

Tku will give chase because this was his mess. "I am so sorry and you have nothing to do with this." He grabs the tube, figuring it might be needed to catch him. He hands her a bag of Magus. "If you want to help, You'll get paid even more but no need!" his face said he very much needed help.

"Get back here you little rat!" Tku took out, banana at the ready.

Tku was falling behind the damn demon.

♪

Achmaladorax decides to summon marbles to trip Tku. They are chaos marbles. 😄 "Hoo hoo hoo!" he exclaims. "Better run faster, speedy Black man! Don't trip, miss cripple! Hee hee hee!"

"OH GOD OH GOD! Come here you, I have candy if you come back!"

"Wouldn't wanna... break your back."

With a little bit of an extra push, Tku dodged the potentially apocalyptic tripping hazard.

"I've trained to dodge marbles!" Tku laughed manically.

"Nimble!" Achmaladorax laughed.

Tku leaped the second.

"Tall athletic Black guy has da hops!" the demon taunted.

"Oh yeeeeaaahhh! Does his partner?" An evil smile split the lower half of his face.

Keearah did not, in fact, have the hops, because she was a paraplegic. However, She swerved out of the way.

A set of glowing coins appeared above Tku's head. "First level passed!' the demon exclaimed, and a pair of disembodied clapping hands and a laurel appeared there too, momentarily. "Great job!"

“You won’t get away for long!” Tku slid the banana and it transformed into a peel.

The demon was forced to dodge the banana peel. Tku fell a tiny bit further behind. Achmaladorax stuck out his tongue. "Nyah nyah nyah nyah booo-boooo!" he teased.

"Let's see how you like the same thing right back!" He pulled out a mirror and it... reflected the banana peel? It hurtled straight for Tku's feet.

Tku leaped the banana!

"But how about the missus!?" Achmaladorax laughed, making a kissy face.

A small bird, pretending to be a butterfly flew by, "Best trade I have ever done."

Keearah popped a wheelie and avoided it."I was takin' it easy on her 'cause she ain't gawt no leeeeygs, I tells ya!" the demon exclaimed. "Who says we demons is heartless, huh?"

"Much obliged," Tku thanked with a little bit of frustration. Why was he so fast?

“Catch me if you can!" he giggled. "Ha ha haaaaa!" the Vendemon taunted as they approached the outskirts of Morrento now.

Keearah started to pinch Tku, telling him that they needed to turn so she could still help in the future. Tku knew what to do though, he knew the streets of Morrento like the back of his hand.

“This is my area!” Tku taunted back for the first time.

"Ooooh, it's a real photo finish, ladies and gents!" Achmaladorax exclaimed.

Tku glanced at the back of his hand. It... had changed, somehow?
"Hoo hoo hoo!" the vendemon laughed. "You've done well so far," he taunted, "but, up to now, I've only been using five percent of my power. Now, let's see how you fare against my...." His voice grew in volume. "Biden... BLAST!"

"Biden what?"

A giant laser blast came straight for Tku's head.

"Biden deez nutz-"

♪

He dipped and ducked, dodged and dove. Only to drive the oddly named attack square into his chest. This was it for Tku, he would loose his life to a shit eating, mother fu—

Over his head, he saw three hearts. Before his eyes, one disappeared.

"You lose all three," came Achmaladorax's mocking voice, "you DIE. Hee hee! Hoo hoo!"
He took off again. "Gotta go fast! Oh, and you, hot wheels!"

"Great, Just fucking great" A vein popped on his head. Oh he was so annoyed but thankful to be alive.
"Don't think you'll get any special treatment because you can't go to the bathroom properly!" Another BIDEN BLAST was sent flying past Morrento towards the distance.

She was just able to dodge the Biden Blast.
"Just kiddin'! I'd never hit a goil, mama. Don't worry!"
His legs were a literal blur as he zipped around town.
He pulled up an old lady's skirt!
He stole candy from a baby, just to see it cry!
He ran down three squirrels crossing the street, just to see them die!
He tripped an old man at the crosswalk!
He peed on a fire hydrant right in the face of a dog on a leash!
He rescued a cat from a tree!

"What is a fire hydrant?"

Then, he put it back on a higher tree branch. "Ain't I a stinker!?"

He yanked a gold tooth out of a prostitute's mouth
He altered a sailor's tattoo to say "Jimmy ♥️" instead of "Jenny ♥️".

"Why are you so petty? Did daddy not pay attention to you? If you come here we can make the sickest prank call to another Vendemon!"

"Hoo hoo hoo!" Achmaladorax chuckled. "Sure thing, buddy!"

He turned around and zipped straight towards Tku. "Catch me, you big hunk!" He leaped into the air. “Don't let me fall!" He batted his eyelashes and blushed. "Drop me and I destroy the world."

Tku had this, he was the best catcher in all of Ersand'Enise besides maybe Dory. The laws were on his side.

"Weeee!"

Suddenly, it was a smallish Keearah hurtling through the air. She was wearing lipstick, blush, and eyeliner. She looked rather alarmed.

Tku quickly adjusted. If it was the demon, he could win. If it was Keearah, he would smash her face with a tube. He couldn’t do that to the girl.

Keearah tumbled into his arms. She batted her lashes. She smooched him on the cheek. Then, she leapt out, turned into a vaguely anthropomorphic pickle, and ran.

Tku thought, no, knew it was the demon but he just couldn't risk that. He would have to continue his chase for even longer.

SHIT Keearah swore through pinch language. YOU TURNED HIM AROUND she complimented Tku. Their chase would not come to an end just yet. They still played near Morrento. The Demon was quicker, its small body gliding through the air like a sparrow. Tku was not without his methods though. The ground turned smooth and white, becoming near frictionless as Tku sped up rapidly.

"Chew on this, sucker!" Achmaladorax called, making a funny face into the wind. Suddenly, there were tons of small sharp... blocks on the ground? They were hollow and came in a number of shapes and were made of a strange material, not unlike opaque glassflower.

"Back at you!" Tku sprung them back with surprisingly squishy dirt.

"No fair!" he screeches. Reality warped for a moment so unperceivable that only the demon knew what had happened

"Hoo hoo hoo!" He swiftly dodged. "Let's try that again. How 'bout, you, wheels?"

Keearah rolled right over them. "Ow," she taunted, deadpan. "Ow, my wheels." She rolled her eyes and rolled right over the blocks, barely slowing down. "Soo penfool."

"Maybe not my best-considered idea," he admitted, shrugging in a comically exaggerated fashion.

He clotheslined a kid wrestling with his friends.
One dropped a coin. The demon took it and split it in two. "Now it's fair, kiddos!"
He pushed a stroller into traffic.
"Better run, mom!"
He licked a notice pole right in front of some kids and then froze it.
"You try!" he taunted.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WITH YOU AND BABIES" Tku cried out as he nestled the stroller to the sidewalk.

"I believe that children are our future," the vendemon replied solemnly.

♪

Tku was gaining but having to fix the chaos he was causing so close to the school had slowed him down on the straightaway. He was so close but just out of reach as if even this was purposeful.

"Sayanara, suckers!" As a parting gift, he tossed out a series of rolling barrels. They seemed to have... lit fuses.

What should have been another deterrent for Tku was only seen as an opportunity. A blackberry had been picked from the demon’s soul and given to Tku. He popped it in his mouth and his muscles swelled from one side to another as he lifted the street and whipped them back at the demon.

♪

"Shit shit shit!" He split down the middle to dodge but before he could Keearah sandwiched him in the middle

"Oh no yop don't, yoo leettle faucker." Keearah narrowed her eyes.

The barrel bounced and rolled and...

"Kaboom!" shouted Achmaladorax. There were three hearts above his head. He stopped dead in his tracks and little twinkling stars swirled around his head. One of the hearts disappeared.

The moment had presented itself and the young man was poised to take it. Out came his Banana Board gliding across the cobble in excess of 100mph. He lined the tube up for victory and chanted, “BRAVERY PREVAILS OVER RAT BASTARDS!”

But just as he had caught Achmaladorax, something changed.

Then, the demon went very still and silent. His form turned pure black. His eyes glowed a blazing white as they opened.

"NOT FUNNY!" He trembled with rage.

"I LAUGHED" Tku smiled defiantly.

The sky darkened. Steam spurted out from his nostrils. Veins bulged in his forehead.

"Soo deed Eye." Keearah smirked in between catching her breath.

Achmaladorax ground his teeth. Out of nowhere, an instance of VOID appeared. The vendemon's hand shot into it. "I'll destroy this town for it," he rumbled in his throat.

"All of it, dust." Hesitantly, reluctantly, hating every moment of it, he withdrew his arm from the VOID.

Tku stood his ground, "You won't because then that isn't funny," he smirked.

In it was a single resplendent white key: ornate and old-fashioned. The demon's eyes snapped to him. "Why I oughta..." Beneath him, reddish cracks spidered across the pavement, and a hellish hot aura roiled through the air. People ran and screamed.

"I believe you have given me the best chase I ever had," he extended his hand for the key, "May we play another game next time."

"Haha!" Achmaladorax crowed. "You're right! Though... I took it easy on you because your girlfriend can't walk. Even demons have standards, you know." He held the key out.

"Oh, wait!" he retracted it. "We need to shake hands first." He nodded solemnly. "That's part of the deal."

"Your benevolence is not lost on me, Achmaladorax," Tku extended his hand to shake, what he hid was a rubber glove on his shoe. A Rikard specialty.

An incredibly cold pulse ran through Tku at the moment they shook hands. “I expected a warmer reception!" Achmaladorax laughed at the Tku ice-block.

"Well, toodles. I must leave. My planet needs me. We'll speak again soon." He entered a portal before turning around sinfully.

"Now... how quickly can hot wheels get here to warm you up?" He waved languidly.
"I hear it's uphill the whole way... both ways."

"Of course," he kept a smile as he visibly shivered.

With that, a second VOID portal appeared above the demon. He leapt into the air and disappeared through it, but it did not close.

A moment later, there was what could only be described as... a bathroom sound.

Then, from the portal, fell something large and brown. It was... a book.

The Book of Dastardly Magic: This old tome is covered in demonic markings. It seems unusually heavy, in both literal and metaphorical senses. However, there is a space for a key. It is also bound by powerful sealing magics.

"Oh how grotesque," his face contorted into all sorts of shapes at the thought of reaching for the book.

"Whew. Been sitting on that one a while!" came Achmaladorax's voice. "Was prairie-dogging a bit." Then, the portal closed and he was gone.

A Crush

Tku has successfully got a key, a book, and 2 new friends? "Not the key I was expecting, maybe a counterpart? After all, things come in pairs." Tku headed back with Keearah. He had to go clean up what happened in Morrento and give those kids their own incantors to stop a deadly duel.

Tku paid Keearah 25 Magus for the translation and 25 more for catching the Vendemon. He complimented her magic skills and collectiveness, “come by zenobucks, I’ll treat you if I’m there.”

They talked for a little bit afterward and Tku could sense she was rather far gone but not as far as Marci. Maybe it was out of pity of pure kindness but he gifted Keearah one of his few exploits so she could imbibe in a gray aberration. He would hate to see her lose more of herself.

From Keearah’s perspective though, it was just kind. He promised to keep her safe and he did. He brought her on a grand adventure, struggling and persevering to the end. She got to smile in the face of a Vendemon and lived to tell the tale. All these conditions combined into a crush on the man.

They talked and got along quite well. Enough for Tku to spill that he was going to Palapar to support an uprising.

"yoo coold oose e tethered end there aur meny eeaiko there," Keearah openly offered

Tku was stunned, unable to respond to what she was saying.

"Eye woold naut be aut auf plece." She reinforced.

He thought about it thoroughly, weighing her participation like stones on a scale. Eventually he found it in him to allow it on a condition. "You're right, but you are learning Binding along the way."

“I em?" She blinked. "Hauw?"

"I am a Tan-Zeno, Keearah, I run seminars on binding and teach classes on limb regeneration. It's the best way to safe and be effective. I can teach you the same way a merchant did for me years ago."

Her eyes widened. "Yoo're e Tan-Zeno." She made a thoughtful face. "Thet explens e laut." She nodded.

"Eye weell loorn. Eye weell teech yoo Tethered peench lenguege."

"We can learn and improve with each other," He clasped her hand like a promise. "We'll have to figure out where your magic skill is."

"We Akrihans aulweys keep aur praumeeses."The sun was setting. The fields glowed golden under its light and a windmill creaked slowly.

"Yo unc!" shouted a small voice.

"Why you robbing the cradle?"

"Yoo cheseeng tet eeaiko tel."

Can eeaiko turn red with their complexion? Keearah certainly did her best impression. "He's naut - " she stumbled. "We're naut..."

He blushed and laughed it off. That is definitely what it would be like from the outside, "Run off before I slice your incantors again." 2 lines in the ground started to chase them.

"Whoa! Unc's a Tan-Zeno! Did you hear that!?"

"Wee gautte roon Luuras!"

"Eet's caumeng foor aus!"

"Enjoy your time together." Luuras couldn't resist one final tease. Then, the boys disappeared around a corner.

Keearah blinked, fiddling with her hair and the ruffles of her dress. "Aunc, huh?" she snorted. "Soo, aumm... aur yoo lyke thoorty?" She glanced up at him sheepishly. "Pleesedoon'thoortmeEye'mbedweethhoomeneges."

Tku put a hand on his heart, "You wound me Keearah, I only turned 19 2 months ago"

"Oh," she replied. "Eye'm seventeen." She turned a bit on the spot and tucked some hair behind one ear. "Cool, end saurry. Soo, eet's getting lete. Heve yoo hed deenner?"

"I have not, would you mind if I join you? We can discuss the trip over dinner," Tku offered, "I know a nice place for something quick."

"Ees et Zenobaucks?" she chirped, bouncing a bit in her seat. "Ees et? Oor doo yoo know saumtheng even better?"

"We can go there after for a treat for surviving a terrifying vandemon for but I know somewhere a little better my superiors have shown me," he looked at how bumpy and how long the path was to the city and started to level the path in front of them. "Shall we?"

She grinned. "Better then Zenobaucks!?" She let out a low whistle. "Thet's oh so very caultoored, Mr. Zeno. Saum reel good food before aur cappuccino. Teke eet ewey. Yoo've earned eet toodey." She was just a bit out ahead of him, and she twisted and shot him a wink over her shoulder.

"So very cultured," he laughed and continued down his way with her. A relaxing yet informative dinner and stepping behind the counter at Zenobucks to make her cappuccino, they were set for the night. He walked her home as the hours of Eshiran had waned into Dami's.

"Goodnight Keearah, thank you for your company today. I quite enjoyed it, let's talk again another day." Tku saw himself off from there to start preparing lesson plans, ordering stock, and... "Oh I may need another coffee."

He had come one step closer to opening the book and secured a new ally in Palapar. It was a very sweet day.

The Hourglass Order

A Palace Inflamed

---

Labored and shallowed breaths filled the artist’s ears as he dragged Zarina and another out of the palace. His magic flickered back, revealing each injury to the binder. Her lungs are collapsed, her spine is severed, bowels are punctured. Lead scattered through their bodies. His once steady hands shook, his magic grew sloppy, a piece of the pauldron thinned as he failed to filter the platinum from lead, You cannot risk error now, you have come this far. he told himself as he pulled the rest of the lead out of their bodies, now prepared to form their flesh anew.

His hands no longer shook, he had distanced himself so far from the situation that was at hand. Blood spilled out in a wave and Tku dropped a vial of clear oil into it. Quickly, it was pulled back through the wound, mending the piercing and lungs leaving not even a scar in its wake. These were easy wounds, unlike the one who has disconnected her spine.

A cut rope was all that could describe it, spindly threads unbound and messily strewn through bones and blood. Tku grabbed hold of these with kinetic, pressing them into a rough shape as he reconstituted their connections. The most tedious of details like he was weaving a royal carpet. It tired him so but he completed the restoration cleanly and while the wound was still open, he poured another vial in before closing and massaging it to distribute.

Now they lay there, magicless and at his mercy. It was a sickening feeling to have done this to a friend, even the woman who he had known nothing of fed the pit in his stomach. He could smell the burning bodies behind him that were left in the palace. Had Mahal’s mother escaped? What of Aira and Fiske? The whole world felt so surreal right now. ”Why am I in Palapar, fighting my loved ones and breaking my oath?” he said on his knees looking toward the last bit of sky before the smoke consumed it as well.

He lifted himself up and called Marci. ”Zarina has made it out and she is alive. she…” his was racked with pain at what happened. How she would choose to die protecting scum overtaking the hand of a friend. ”She resisted in front of the leader of the revolution, in front of so many burning hearts. She will be allowed to live, I will make sure of that. But her time will not be easy.” his voice was slow, slightly trembly, and held much lower in tone than his normal voice.

The exchange was quick and scattered, not even proper enough for a send-off, just an end. Some agreement would be met, Dani was more reasonable than the veneer he wore, Tku was sure of it. He placed them in a subspace, somewhere safe from the wandering eyes. Tku’s job had come to an end and he wanted to leave. The pain he felt in his heart was unbearable to him.

But his labor wasn’t done. Deep down Tku knew that. He brought Keearah here, to an unstable nation that he helped spark a revolution. He could run, forget about her, and everything else he built for himself. It was so easy for him, Calanast was a small boat away and he could continue the journey as he had before the school. He wanted to so badly but he knew he couldn’t.

He was no child anymore. He was no longer foolish enough to believe running was viable. People still needed him so he would stay here, enduring the hardships he had not expected. He was a man now, and he would not be a coward.

”Verusand, I pray that I am right in my justice and that Forticand provides me strength to continue,” he prayed by himself with the warm glow of the palace behind him.

The Hourglass Order

Mittria the 14th

A one-legged woman walked alone at night through the streets of Belleville. More than once, a door opened and a concerned face or voice offered her shelter. Each time, her reply a pleasant Kerreman lilt, she refused.

Her footsteps - the click of her crutches and the thump of her single boot - seemed almost to echo in the nighttime emptiness, for such was the condition of fear that existed in Belleville these days. She was tall and lithe, with bright blonde hair pulled into a pair of braids that bounced with each step. She hummed as she walked, and it seemed more out of idle innocence than to mask any sort of anxiety.

She wore a pistol on her belt and a knife tucked into her boot. Click - thump - click - thump. She continued to walk. She continued to hum. The only real light was that of the moons. A dog bayed in the distance. An owl took off from a rooftop. There were eyes on the woman, and she knew it. She counted on it, in fact. This was a job and she was being paid. She'd always had quick reflexes, and, at any moment, she might need them.

A near cat-sized dormouse had been loitering about in the streets, barely distinguishable from a small dog or average feline in the dark. It barely made a noise, only the occasional rat-like squeak to blend in with the locals. It never strayed too far from the squeaky repetition of boots against damp earth trails and the occasional paved path. There was the occasional distraction and the need for a mild spurring, but otherwise it did its duty.

“Nothing yet.” reported Zarina, partially turned with small horns curling out just over her temples, within a safe house to one of her accomplices, sat on a fur-layered couch and sporadically diving into a deep focus before shaking her head. “Can't draw either or we'll get burned.”

The one-legged woman was Anneliese Höfler, and she was no stranger to mortal peril. She'd earned her living as a soldier of fortune since deciding not to marry a man who was mostly sausage grease and bad manners at the age of eighteen, and she was now twenty-eight, thoroughly disowned, and happier than she'd ever been.

She reached out with her magics - though only the most basic sensing - and noticed the rodent scampering after her: part of their safety net. The rest, however, was an act of trust - utter, naked trust. She did not have her rifle or her prosthetic, and could not be certain that the semi-professionals she was working with would cover their sectors properly. Zarina, Ingrid, Miret, Chad, Liset, Thantra, Tyrel. She had always been a tall woman and she felt, among them, a dwarf.

She kept walking, pausing only to adjust her belt in front of a great hegelan rooming house with a red door. It was the agreed-upon signal for this checkpoint. She knew that she could trust the girls - Faiza's falcon had been circling overhead for a while, and both Luusi and Fernanda had been in position since midday. Bayar was... doing what she usually did and it was the only reason that Anneliese had agreed to take part.

She began moving, cumbersome in this indecent dress and on crutches, and knew that she was passing from Liset's area to Ingrid's. She did not know the entirety of the plan, and these women were young, but they were strong and she was not stupid and the Old Blood needed to go. It would work. She was Annick, now: Annick Lowenhardt, a familiar enough sight around the Vermillion Swirl and Bath House, but not entirely alien to Belleville for the right price.

Come on, you bloodthirsty halfwit. I'm everything you want, she thought at the sanguinaire, even as she did another quick sweep. Would you let a one-legged whore with such a pitiful capacity walk right by you?

Bayar Almangedy breathed in calmly, and breathed out. The dew point was high and it came out as a thin white trickle of steam.

The Captain passed through Ingrid's sector without incident and into Thantra's, but it was neither of them that the Kaganese huntress was tasked with overseeing.

Zarina Al-Nader was a wildblood. It was not difficult to discern. She was a wildblood and those were shifty allies at best, ready to turn at the light of a moon.

She was in a dozen different places at once: little circles of illumination where she had left some of her colony in a vast magical darkness. With these, she not only tracked the tracker, but also an ally that the Captain was given to mistrust greatly. Anneliese's leg hadn't severed itself and Haurah had not disappeared on her own, after all.

It was roundabout the time when their bait had passed from Thantra's sector into Miret's that Bayar noticed something: a persistent energy signature - not large enough to be alarming, but consistent in its high speed and loose adherence to the Captain's position: always just at the very edge of sensing range for someone of high capacity. She signaled back to Miret just as Anneliese passed into one of Bayar's blindspots.

it was under these circumstances that the unusually large rodent following Anneliese at a discreet distance may have noticed that energy too. Now, the question was: could he connect that with a visual and solid proof, and would they be able to get a warning to the Captain on time?

Nibbler's role was simple, report any anomaly to the boss, and the boss was Zarina. With the abnormality considered, the rodent's master could peer through the lens of her beast to assess the situation in a more hands-on manner.

Indeed, there was something far too powerful at the edge of the drawing range. With confirmation of an initial suspicion, it came down to whether Zarina or Nibbler was the closest. Normally, it was the latter and possibly the safest alternative too.

"Meeeeeow. Meow."

A sound emitted from the critter. The fruit of Zarina's manipulation technique, allowing the rodent to howl out a warning with little more than a very basic change of its voice.

One moment, she was starting to sense something of interest. The next moment, a sanguinaire was diving in for her neck. The rodent's agreed-upon warning gave Anneliese just enough time to conjure a pillar of iron right below her shadowy assailant's crotch, and it slammed into him with considerable force.

The blow knocked him off-balance and he gritted his teeth and grunted in discomfort. Anneliese didn't bother trying to run on crutches. Somehow, that Thantra girl was actually fast, but she could never get above a brisk jog without pulling upon the Gift, so she didn't. The illusion that Nahennah had been helping to maintain on her fell away and the springy steel of her right foot hit the ground.

"Vhile you were playing vith your dolls, littel girl, and zen spreading your... leg for filthy cash, I vas mastering ze aht of [ABOLUTE RESISTANCE]." He bolted forward, eyes wide and unblinking. "I vas shahpening my instincts and my moral compass for people just like you! I am unhuht by such tricks!"

"Gut für dich," the majusjaeger grunted, as she pushed off, full speed, dress fluttering in the wind, braids whipping about like twin snakes. She twisted to the side and brought her crutches up and around and... they changed shape! The two came together with a click and a clank and then they were a rifle."Friss Blei, Arschloch!" She swung the gun into his face and pulled the trigger.

A hand - sudden and cold and unspeakably strong - reached out to grab the barrel and wrench it out of the way. Anneliese Höfler von Karlberg-Linderfeldt, der rote Teufel, skidded back, a black streak of sparks leaping up from the cobble as her steel foot slid across it. She hopped back and plowed that same foot into her attacker's stomach, a dagger popping out the bottom to stab into him. She didn't taunt or waste time with gratuitous words. This was a true - possibly a high - sanguinaire and, if he was strange, it was because he was a mad killer. He was also much stronger than her.

The knife came out and it was warped and twisted from impacting something hard. Blood trickled from the wound, but then his hand was darting at her neck. It was closing and she could feel that it would crush her windpipe. Thus, Anneliese broke the magusjaeger's cardinal rule: she let go of her rifle.

The world dropped away and she hit the ground in a splits. He whiffed cleanly, lurching forward with a growl, and she grabbed the butt of the rifle, leaned her shoulder into his midsection with all of her kinetically and chemically-enhanced might and pulled.

The correct and strategic application of force can offset a sizable deficit in strength. It was part of the credo. It was something that she lived her life by. He stumbled and dived forward and she somersaulted, snapping her legs together, springing up, and landing nimbly on her good one. She spun on the spot, rifle in hand, and stamped her metal foot on the ground to force the damaged dagger back into its socket.

A whirlwind of kinetic energy caught Anneliese before she could get a shot off. The man was unhurt, as expected, but his recovery had been near-instantaneous! Only a converging quartet of arcane lances that scored him on the chest, head, shoulder, and behind distracted him enough to weaken the attack. She spun with it, staggering and taking off, rocketing away telekinetically at chest height. Good timing, Fish

She had a straight shot down this street and the bloodmouth was following her, thinking only of his hunt and his hunger. Anneliese did not allow herself a smirk of satisfaction, but she held steady in her gravity loop, took aim, and then -

The cavalry had arrived.

The commotion had started. There was no need for a signal, the excessive drawing and destructive casting was enough of a cue for an immediate reaction. Nibbler kept his distance, but did not idle. In the midst of the sanguinaire's pursuit, his little RAS got to work. A dose of chemical magic, a school notorious for the lack of raw capacity needed, spiked the creature's very circulation. A monster like this could likely withstand an immense amount of influence, but all she needed was the slightest of falters.

This man had clearly fallen into some sort of trap. And yet he continued his assault. It sealed his fate in the eyes of the semi-pacifist. Zarina had to put this rabid hound down, but not before making thorough use of his pitiful existence. With the final order given to Nibbler, she readied herself.

Steady.

Steady.

Space and time were bent like pliable strings. The budding dragon had, in her perspective, changed her surroundings into the very spot the bloodsucker was going to be, with a couple of inches to the left. Arm extended, hand balled into a fist and scales made to grow on her forearm for extra resilience. She banked on him colliding with her arm for a somewhat comedic fall.

It should've hit perfectly - seamlessly. Zarina's timing was on. She had done everything right. As it was, it glanced him across the nose and he stumbled, the sheer force of his charge knocking her arm to the side.

This sanguinaire was unnaturally strong. His reflexes were absurd. He caught himself, twisting as he started to regain his footing, and his head came around, a grin of sadistic - or perhaps masochistic - eagerness spreading across his face. His nose was hideously broken and bleeding, but she started to feel a massive surge of energy.

Then, Miret was there, from nowhere, lashing out with a kinetically-empowered kick that finished the job. He spun and staggered, a tooth and some blood spurting free from his lips, and the energy dissipated in a shockwave that blew over barrels and damaged shutters and forced all three women backwards. "And so ze haunter becaumes ze haunted." He snorted, his distorted features breaking, twisting, and bleeding. They were already returning to normal. "Baut.... who is zat? Hmm?"

The collision warranted a couple of shakes of her arm. That hurt, although not nearly as much as it did for the one with the broken nose. The dull pain was a worthwhile trade for exacting the combination attack she and Miret had prepared. A mild grin of satisfaction was warranted, one that'd falter when it was clear they weren't close to inflict a coup de grace just yet.

“I-” she pursed her lips. “I'm sorry, his accent is way too thick. Nobody's haunting you.” If beating the living crap out of this thing wasn't going to cut it, then perhaps literally cutting was the go-to strategy. The same arm she had used as an obstacle extended out in a similar stance, this time to actually reach out for something. Out of a thin portal was ripped out the Hocho 99. “These guys can heal a lot, right?” a question directed at Miret, one essentially asking for permission to play with the big toy.

Anneliese was well out of the way by now, and it was effectively just Zarina and Miret, but for her potential cover fire. The latter of the two nodded. "Need to one-tap him," she whispered, taking a step back and drawing her Chains of Retribution. These, she began spinning as she stepped to the side. They had others. Thantra was not far, and neither were Ingrid and the remaining four magusjaegers. Finally there was their ace in the hole: Tyrel.

Something inside of Miret said that she wanted to do this her way, though: just her and Zarina and a leg she would not have this time tomorrow. She kept reminding herself that it was only temporary, that Ailet would have her back. It still bunched up inside of her like a fist squeezing the top of her stomach, though.

"Joi weth," she breathed, "Miret yuus."

Zarina nodded in acknowledgment, never once letting this predator out of her sights. The sword was held by both hands, pointed directly upwards to create an obstacle between herself and the physically threatening sanguinaire. Her posture was still amateurish, anyone with experience in the blade could tell. That said, simply dropping that sword on a target could very much realize the 'one-tap' goal they both have.

At Miret's signal, she charged. One step forward, closing the distance by a meter. And then suddenly twenty had been traversed with her assault coming from the sanguinaire's left, her stance perpendicular to his form, as she descended her heavy blade upon him.

Sitting by the windowsill on the 2nd story of a drunkard's house was none other than Ingrid Penderson. She was rather calm, reading a report on some Eskandish merchants attempting to set up Juriskarn and Hargelich to avoid the war. "Oh that cannot do, no sir," her face soured but there was a small grin to it. "Easy fish to exploit."

All this open talk of hunting down merchants for wealth was a cover for the hunt. Her position was quiet, sitting and waiting for some action. She could sense energy across time so a scuffle was predictable to if one were to follow the energies near Anneliese. She did a small pinch to the next person, saying that there was nothing to see in her area.

But the silence of the night was broken, it was out of her range but she could feel the energy shift to fill the void somewhere else. She leaped from the window, trying to find Zarina before she did her temporal shenanigans to catch a ride but she disappeared before she could copy the spell for herself. "Åh kom igen!" Ingrid stomped her foot and rested her hand on her hip. "Guess I'll have to run."

There was little magic used save for some kinetic alterations, Ingrid was fast enough without magic. Instead, she focused on hiding her senses the same way Desmond had taught her, though admittedly, less cleanly. She now laid in wait, watching for a moment to catch him as he ran away or got sloppy. Ingrid had no reason to rush in today, she was there as support.

♪♪

It was like cutting through nothing. Zarina's blade descended and the front half of his head slid cleanly off.

It was like punching a hole in paper. Miret's fist burst through his abdomen and out the other side.

Then, the latter was grabbed by the hair and hurled into a nearby building with extreme savagery. The latticed window exploded and Miret dropped to the ground, shards of glass sticking out of her chest, cheek, and arm and a leaden post sunk deep into her abdomen. She rolled over and groaned. "Disappointing, girl," he sneered. "I usually like to play wiss my food a littel more."

He came next for Zarina and it was instant. Yet this, too, proved an illusion. He was everywhere and nowhere. He struck a second time with a starburst of bound metallic spikes from below and a maelstrom of razor-sharp spines forming up above and around her and swirling.

The Sanguinaire was tricky but his attacks were repetative. He used illusion to disorientate his opponent, to make them sluggish from indecision. Ingrid had her own tricks but she needed to support Zarina first.

From the outside, Ingrid could see the minute obscurities of the illusion around Zarina. It was a trap that meant to lessen her abilities, a trap Zarina could reverse if signaled correctly. She pulled on her limited experience and pinched Zarina's ear lobe.

<FAKE, COUNTER>

Rage bubbled within the buster sword wielder. Reason became secondary to retribution for what had been done to her partner. The pinches only galvanized her initial decision: Tank it all with her resilience and scales and get a decisive blow. But with the threat gone, the draconic berserker bullrushed the energy signature she sniffed out for a counter-attack.

She did not travel far with part of her drawn energy was used to consume space between herself and her prey. What was an attack meant to arrive half a second later was imminent. This time a horizontal slash with a range endowed by the rest of the energy she had drawn.

She had used, effectively, the same technique twice already, and the anger was the icing on the cake. It made her predictable. What was less so was how she'd been able to see so easily through his illusion and sniff him out. The sanguinaire didn't have time to figure it out, though. That attack would've ended him. The moment that he could feel temporal energies being drawn, he teleported and ended up on a nearby rooftop, throwing in a quick kinetic spell to stir up all of the dust and the fog.

The baby sanguinaire was up as well, and already healing. He took a moment to stretch out his senses. He almost missed her: a second baby, a great big ox of a woman, using a magusjaeger technique to cloak her presence. This one was dangerous - clever - but the effort was sophomoric. Time to smoke you out.

It was literal. He created kinetic barriers and pumped the area where she was hiding full of mustard gas as quickly as he could. Then, the first baby sanguinaire was up again. This was starting to become too much of a scene, he knew, on a rational level. Mother had always warned him that he played with his food too much, but it was so fun! Just a bit longer...

Zarina did not let up. By forcing her mark to tug on the strings of space and time, she had a trail to work with. The distinguishing stench of time brought her right on him again, blade readied in another very similar assault to what she had done previously. This time it was a diagonal upwards slash. Always the barbarian, still immensely predictable. It was easy to buy too with how livid she appeared in both face and body with her movements prioritizing brutality over any sort of technique or finesse.

“You're MINE, asshole!” she was frothing at the mouth. Her wildblood nature becoming clearer by the second.

There was a moment of hesitation where she held her breath. This could just be a shitty illusion and she could waste time getting rid of it. But the sharp sting in her eyes told her the truth, it was real and potent.

More chemical magic, she thought as she began to draw heat out of the environment. Soon it would fall out of the air and be ready to be swept to something inert via Oraff-Zept's gift. It was simple. She must appear weak for now.

Ingrid watched over the battle though she could not fully grasp the intricacies with both parties using temporal magic. What a shame she hadn't broken through the first hurdle of temporal magic yet. Less subtle support now opened itself that the monster had spotted her.

Miret was healing and Zarina was charging in recklessly with an unseen level of barbarism. Perhaps she was doping, she idly thought. Still, Ingrid simply needed to modify Zarina's attack. She released a splash of light behind Zarina to shadow her and hopefully blind her target.

The ox managed to escape and tried to blind him with a luminescent attack, but the sanguinaire did not hunt much with his eyes anyhow. These girls were good, and it dawned upon him that he was not the hunter, but the hunted. He dodged her sophomoric slash and, instead of dancing away and putting some distance between himself and his quarry, he blasted the wildblood with a point blank dragon's fyre spell, ignoring the other. "And vill you taste like a lizar or a person?" he taunted.

It was all too easy, and that made him uneasy - uneasy when he sensed it: a fifth energy lurking towards the edge of his range, slowly closing in.

♪♪

An opportunity. Both from her hidden support and the enemy shifting to the offense, she had what she needed. Her buster sword served as shield from the attack and her sheer might pushed through just enough to not lose any distance with the creature. Blisters bubbled in abundance where scales did not grow and air was impossible to breathe. But that was a trifling matter to a dragon.

The Sanguinaire needed to draw again after his attack, a perfect opening. She was in arm's reach of him, and so she did just that, reached with her arm to grapple. Both were strong, practically matched in strength, but she had a superheated sword to press against his core to keep him still and gauntlets from an arch-zeno that could withstand said heat.

“I wonder what YOU taste like.”

A threat that did not material the way he'd expect. Before them was a portal.

“Dinner!”

Out came a Sassy Xiao gorged with energy and channeling her inner starved cat. Tongue out and drooling saliva, the large pup lunged for its meal with its thick, stone-carving claws. Zarina lowered her sword just as her pet came to claim its dindins.

"I tink naut," he replied. The dragon lunged for him, as if in slow motion, its jaws opening eagerly, its tongue flapping inside of its mouth. It was both magnificent and grotesque and he decided that he would be a hedgehog. Nearly thirty enormous, razor sharp metallic spikes shot out from his form in all directions.

Meanwhile, not so very far away, Miret stood, reached out with Chemical magic, and hammered her target's mind with Serotonin.

Ingrid was given a moment of respite, he had not launched an attack at her. Why didn't he mattered not though Ingrid suspected she wasn't worth the trouble with her better rushing him down. He wasn't striking with any real lethality, illusionists always played this game. But before any real threat could manifest, Zarina grabbed the initiative and brought forth a dragon to do her bidding.

He was on the back foot, forced on the defensive. By all means, it was going well. They would not need to do much at this rate. It was unsatisfying for the battle hungry sang but what could she do?

Ingrid felt some magic coming from Miret, some sort of chemical, most likely to pacify his mind. She had built some meager heat in her body and decided to focus it on the target to weaken his constitution. A helper was she this night.

The spikes were a good enough deterrent for Zarina as she was made to disengage. Xiao, however? The thing just charged in, claws lodged into the mural of thorns without a single care. It opened its mouth, tongue still hanging off one side, and screeched before unleashing a glob of flame that'd promptly blow up in close range.

The animal was shoved back by its own attack. But there was no downtime for recovery. The plume of smoke left in the explosions wake scattered as the Emperor's Kite came rushing in like a rooster fighting off an intruder, mouth still agape to remind its prey that he was dinner.

Zarina did not waste time either. Where the sanguinaire avoided the hyperaggressive tank-dragon, she came in to maintain pressure. Her strikes were still predictable but impossible to simply ignore.

There were two very angry dragons on the loose! With the occasional mild friendly fire.

He staggered free of the explosion, burned, battered, and clutching his head. "You bloodless nothings!" he screamed, thrashing about. Enormous waves of kinetic energy poured off of him, violently shoving Zarina and her dragon away and battering houses and storefronts. A tall tenement stood on the brink of collapse and the choice was clear and stark: kill this monster or stop a disaster in the making.

Miret was, suddenly, nowhere to be seen.

It should have ended there. But Ingrid failed to put everything she had into that attack. It was a meager, subtle attempt to keep her identity somewhat secret. To spare a child from a restless night and keep this as quiet as possible.

But she was mistaken.

The sanguinaire they fought was a monster like all the others she had fought and it had attacked helpless people. She wouldn't let a tragedy like this happen again.

Ingrid arrived instantly next to the building, stealing the teleports that the enemy had used so liberally. Her power swelled with alien energy, an invisible hand taking hold of the building. The tenement began to freeze and repair with her power of own binding.

Ingrid was brought to her limit. Holding a building, channeling the void, blocking further destruction and repairing what had been done. She had overdrawn but she protected the people of this building and left the path clean for Zarina and Miret. She had done her job.

Zarina and her hyperactive dragon were briefly repelled, leaving the monstrous bloodsucker enough time to exact his nefarious plan. The 'angry bullrush' strategy had to be put on hold now that bystanders were at risk - an issue Zarina had considered and the reason why the smaller Xiao had been chosen for this operation versus a the large hazards that were her froabases.

But as the diversion was about to succeed, a sudden Ingrid intervened. What was an inevitable tragedy turned into an opening. Now they had their cake and ate it too, and Miret was going to have her generous slice.

One also had to consider that, no matter what choice Zarina would have chosen, Xiao wasn't going to stop. The thing continued to charge into the man, and a more tactful beastmaster had used the many distraction to get a Nelson hold going. From there, it was a chemical tug-of-war to keep him from gathering enough path to push her out again.

“LUUCHY!” she called and then whistled. The latter was Xiao's cue to hold back. It stopped right before tackling its prize. Just barely. Angry tail smacks strong enough to crack the shoddy stone pavement were a reminder that an accident was just around the corner. They had to do this quickly.

♪♪

Miret seemed to materialize right out of thin air, and she hit the high sanguinaire with bonebreaking force. There was a feral look in her eyes as she grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head around. Beams leapt from his eyes to sear her, but she slipped out of his line of fire quickly enough that it would've occurred to any watching that she may not have even been there in the first place.

Her fingernails dug into him, clawlike and, with a hiss, her mouth open and she tore into his neck. Massive bursts of energy emanated from his form, but there were two of them, now, to handle him, and the junior sanguinaire would not be pried loose. A twisted metal thorn skewered her through the thigh, and another through the shoulder, but her eyes flared crimson and he let out a strangled scream and, still, she drank.

"Five hundred years!" he rasped, as she bit deeper, blood spattered across her porcelain features, dribbling down her clothes and Zarina's. It was an awful noise: the slurping and squelching, the rapid stuttered breathing, the cracking of bones.

And as she gripped him tightly - her, not Tyrel - Miret could feel the strength of five hundred years flowing into her body. It had been his, cruelly taken; now it was hers in just comeuppance. He tried to teleport, but he faced two who knew the ways of that magic, and the threads of space and time were held firmly in place.

Zarina bled, now. Miret bled. It was their enemy who bled most. She snapped his collarbone as his hands clawed for her eyes and one fell. Zarina did not flinch at the display, though it was ecstasy for Miret, enough to overwhelm the shame and anxiety at feeding before anyone not named Tyrel, and she scarce registered her friend and lover.

What made it worse was that he continued to heal. He healed like a man who expected that there might be some last-moment escape, some reprieve, that he might yet survive.

In the distance, great energies flared, but they were not her concern. No rescue was forthcoming. His struggles slackened and he felt small and cold and emptied in her arms. Finally, she thrust him free, having drunk all that she could. Her nerves blazed and her senses hummed. Her heart throbbed with life and her hands trembled. "Now, Zarina," she rasped, panting like an animal. Her eyes flicked to the Virangishwoman's sword. "Now! Finish him!"

The building was finished enough but the man was still alive. Ingrid needed his blood, not only for food but to beat the demon that took so much from her. She moved with blinding speed to devour the sang on the floor. She wanted to feed.

Zarina had to look away. Her duties were thoroughly fulfilled, with a punch on the head or nape to tenderize the meat she had prepared for her lover. The sounds couldn't be drowned out, not when she was putting all her strength to keeping things under control. At least she had something else to focus on: Xiao. Keeping that volatile pup under control was as paramount as keeping this monster in place.

Grunts of exertion, forced out to cover up the rising gags from the gorey display. There was a part of her that wondered if this was even worth it, to be more animalistic than the very animal she had summoned. But she was committed and this "person" she held down had long since waved his right to be seen as a person.

She breathed. In and out.

Xiao stomped its foot on the ground, growing antsy.

In and out.

Most of the blood was out. Once Miret was finished, the Virangish kicked his knee to keep him down. With no blood, there wasn't going to be any moving. She straightened up, sword drawn and readied over her head. Wordlessly, she played the role of execution to a tee, eyes on her task and nothing else now, not even her darling Xiao. The blade descended down without delay, with the singular goal to end this thing's life without resentment or cruelty. Clean.

She just simply had to go for it but she wouldn't dare go for the neck where Zarina had aimed the hocho 99. Where could she bite other than where all animals bite first? She ripped in and started to suck as much blood as she can. It wasn't the grand amount Miret had but it was enough. There was no telling what she would assimilate but it was a light meal so most likely nothing. She wiped his blood away from her face and ate a mint. Some memories of her Ariande calling her a dog came to mind and they were more true than ever.

"How are you feeling?" she asked Miret and Zarina. Taking a life was heavy and Miret seemed absolutely animated.

Miret bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, wired. She paced and bounded, so much power and clarity and... everything! "Horrible and wonderful," she replied succinctly. She shook her head to clear it and rubbed at her midsection where her ribs had recently been repaired. "Not an experience I care to repeat, that's for sure." She twisted to shoot Ingrid a quick smile. "Thank you, suunei."

Then, she strode up to Zarina and wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tightly."I love you." She went in for the kiss, shooting a wink to the side at Ingrid.

Both Sanguinaires had their post-feeding glow while Zarina was the complete opposite — discreet and motionless. She had nearly whiffed her coup-de-grâce after being taken aback by the bestial gore fest. Ingrid's desperate jump for a piece of this dying thing was a visual obscenity she never expected of the peculiar but ultimately harmless nerdette. In fact, seeing her sucking blood in general was a revolting surprise, one she stifled by looking away.

Xiao was her rock here, a distraction from the reality of what sanguinaire was - what her lover was. A simple beast that just wanted to eat, no deception or veil of properness other than their man-made elegance. Zarina whistled again and gestured toward the body free of its head. With no delay, the kite rushed in to devour the corpse, cooking it with a quick stream of flames. Pieces were ripped off and entire chunks swallowed without the need for much chewing. The sounds were as unnerving as the blood sucking. Maybe she should have tossed it in a portal.

Then came the hug, one that didn't feel totally out of place. They had survived and Miret was happy. Zarina relaxed in the embrace, practically melting into it.

A kiss, however, was a step too far, prompting her to turn her cheek. Xiao's feast was a strong reminder of where those lips had just been. And, of course, there was Ingrid whom she peered towards and gave a thumbs up to answer her question. It took her a moment, a little bit of angling to hide her face by Miret's so she could whisper by her ear.

“Love you too, Luuchy.”

Ingrid busied herself with cleaning her dress, before it 'fixed' itself. She just sighed and hoped not to many people with peculiar clothing joined. "I can agree on both accounts, I only jumped in at the end when I saw he was still alive." She found herself feeling rather disgusted and guilty and it read all over her face until Xiao ate the source of it away.

Part of her wanted to explain why she did that but felt it wouldn't matter to Zarina.

"Should we be moving out of here or is there more?" Ingrid asked.

Miret backed away after a moment: heart racing, hands trembling. She could feel it in the tenseness of Zarina's shoulders, in her avoidant turn to the side, in the delay of her answer: her lover was repulsed by her.

It was a castle build upon sand pillars that Miret lived in, though she would not acknowledge this. She was repulsed by herself, on some level: by her weakness, by her hunger, by her very nature. She managed a weak smile and parting squeeze of the hand as she backed away and that dragon - that blasted dragon - glanced up at her between its slurping and crunching of bone with big soulless black orbs. Her heart hammered and she could feel it behind her ears.

Perhaps Zarina's true nature would repulse her as well.

"I think you're right." She nodded. In the morning, Ingrid was to use that dread staff and she would gain life while Miret would lose her right leg. She had set aside a few hours before then where she might spend time with Zarina, where they might be together and remain so when the time came for her to become Tyrel.

And, as if summoned by thoughts of her, the Avatar of Vyshta appeared: a gargantuan presence wherever she went. "I believe we are to reconvene under the Ever Tree in the morning?" she suggested, glancing at the other three. Miret could sense it, though: a tension in her sister's chest, manas excited by drawing to near capacity. That surge of energy she had dimly registered while... feeding - her insides curled up at the monster she must've appeared - had been Tyrel. Yes, it must've been Tyrel facing down some monster, as was her inevitable calling.

She did it without complaint, though. How many times had she been Miret's rescuer? Now, there she was, furrowing her brow in concern, but she hid this too. "Sheesh, Zazzy, your little friend here isn't much for table manners," she observed, winking at Miret.

"Actually," Miret interjected, returning to an earlier topic, "I uh... think I'm ready now." She took a deep breath and nodded a couple of times. "I think we can go and do it now..." She glanced about. "Before anything has the chance to go wrong, right?" she added with a snort of rueful mirth.

Zarina was no oblivious to the body language changes in her lover. Where the Sanguinaire felt disgust for herself, the Wildblood was hit by a wave of regret. They were both, in the end, monsters and reminders only fed the self-hatred of insecure youth crank up to new heights. She couldn't muster up the courage to bridge the gap created between them, not until ...

Tyrel, coming in as an indirect messenger of the end, showed up to take center light. This was the end of Miret and the start of new-Tyrel. The end of these little outings she and Zarina would do outside the tyrannical gazes of Tarlon, the school or even the Church.

Soon, they were going to butcher her love.

The discreet human of the couple who could only muster a forced chuckle reached out to clutch Miret's hand. There was no tugging, she was not going to stop her. It was a call for attention, perhaps a means to convince her to step away. Her eyes, as they met the Yasoi, expressed he worry as clear as day.

Meanwhile, Xiao had already devoured all but the head. Her long tongue brushed over its face and snout, suckling on leftover blood and pieces.

Tyrel swallowed, glancing between the others, and took a step back. Space and time splintered and a portal opened. On the other side was the Ever Tree. "Maybe," she suggested, "you two take a little time for yourselves." It was spoken like a question, but was not. "You're..." She swallowed again, looking away, "giving up everything for me, suunei." They could see her, in profile, breathing unsteadily. She turned back, the Avatar of a goddess again. "You're the best thing that has ever been in my life, sister. Take some time for you. I'll still be here."

Her eyes flicked Ingrid's way momentarily. The portal yawned open.

Oh thank Reshta, Ingrid nodded her head. "Is this portal squid free?" she smirked before walking through.

Tyrel winked. "Ain't that just the question these days?" She shook her head. Then, she flexed and hopped a step. "Don't worry, littel huumon, biig stronk Tyrel vill protect yuu if bad squiids come." She followed Ingrid in with a smile.

"Oh thunk yoo~" Ingrid swooned as the portal closed.

A mild, easily missed smile of gratitude was dedicated to Tyrel. A messenger of the end, but a merciful one. With a face she could only be fond of. Zarina leaned into Miret, once again her voice hushed to keep the words only between them. Natural, no magic.

“I've a new pool table.”

A brief, halfhearted chuckle followed that line. It was a nice table, admittedly.

Then she flinched, a delayed reaction to a specific remark. “... Squids?”

Miret shrugged. "Those guys," she replied with quiet discomfort. "You know..." She changed the subject quickly, though. "Let's go see your table." She had... five or six hours left. She followed Zarina.

It was Zarina's turn to make a portal, one leading to their safe place. An inn that had become more of a home than a place to hide, especially with the renovations the owner had planned, starting with the mentioned billiards table.

Hand in hand, the two walked through, with another whistle beckoning Xiao to follow behind. The nosy blep dragon stuck her snout between the duo in a crave for attention.

They left behind a memento: The severed head.

Miret was nice enough to cover it up with a bag, at least.