9.52

Look and see. He blamed her for this, gave her credit for this even if she was not the catalyst. At this point, it was easier to say ‘Erin Solstice did it’.

Otherwise, you’d simply have to admit the world could be magical, and you had no excuse for not seeking it out. In the same way you talked about heroes and legends before your time as things that were impossible to live up to—the excuse was necessary.

Or was it? How large the world seemed. And, at times, how small.

There she was. Wall Lord Ilvriss stood in his apartments in Salazsar, using a crutch to hold himself upright. And there, standing on his rich carpets, looking down at the parade coming into Salazsar as the city rocked with cheers—

—was Erin Solstice.

All the staff were peeking at her as they clustered in the hallway. Ilvriss himself was chatting to her with the most normalcy in his tone.

But even he had been surprised when she appeared, for a social call, to check on him. Despite knowing she could do it—there was something intimate about Erin Solstice just appearing before you.

“A reminder. Wonders never cease.”

“I’m not the one who does it, Ilvriss. I just use them. That’s witch-stuff. But that was all your dad.”

He folded one claw behind his back, wincing as he almost fell on his face, and gripped the crutch more firmly.

“You’re sure you didn’t play chess with him and say something?”

Erin blew out her cheeks.

“Ilvriss. I thought he was you, remember? Why is it so hard to imagine that he did it all on his own?”

“Because…because…”

Because he hadn’t expected it. Because he was proud and amazed and embarrassed, and it was easier to say ‘you did it’ than to process it. Ilvriss ducked his head as Erin stared down.

“‘Old men in war are the scariest thing in the world.’ That’s what Relc said when he heard about it. He started talking about war stories—I have Menolit, Reynold, Grimalkin, Mirn, and a bunch of people sitting on my beach telling stories and singing. I blame you for this.”

“…Weren’t you the one who told them what was going on?”

Erin turned and ignored the question.

“I blame you for it, Ilvriss. Now, are you gonna go down and congratulate your dad or stand up here and tell me how it’s ‘all my fault’?”

He turned faintly red under his scales as the staff stared at him and rumors began to circulate like a magical hurricane. There was something about how Ilvriss spoke to Erin that prompted them.

The familiarity, that was it. He had never been as stiff as a rock, but he had always been imperious, your Wall Lord talking down or at people. Erin made him sound like a normal person.

Navine Gemscale had only ever heard him talk like that once before. To her, her family—and to Periss.

She watched her brother covertly and didn’t believe he was actually in love with her. Or if he was, it wasn’t reciprocal.

So this was the Human. Navine had multiple thoughts, and one of them was that Ilvriss, her brother, was entangled in something big.

The [Innkeeper], Liscor, Zel Shivertail…it was impossible to believe Ilvriss was a traitor, but that’s how they got you, right? She held back, wondering if, perhaps, it was a coincidence.

…No. No, he was speaking to Erin as she pointed below.

“That reminds me. Should I bring anything from Salazsar?”

“Uh—gemstones? I dunno, how about I put Lyonette in touch with you? There’s lots of trade going on, and a bunch of [Smiths] want magical gem dust.”

“That’s hugely valuable information. Can you elaborate?”

“Nuh. I don’t wanna.”

“Please put Miss Lyonette in touch with me, then. I want to leave soon, though my father’s new position will complicate things.”

“So you’re really coming? Great!”

He was leaving soon. For Liscor. During a war and with the New Lands ventures in full swing. Navine couldn’t believe it. But it meant something else mattered to Ilvriss more than his city or profits.

She watched as Erin hopped over to the balcony.

“I think I’m gonna go down for a good look. I want to see Zail up close. Tell you what, I’ll race you.”

“No, Erin. Let me introduce—”

“Too late! I’ll cause a huge commotion if you don’t go down and be a proud kid right now! See ya!”

She vanished, and Ilvriss cursed, then rushed towards the doors. Navine stepped smartly away, and she wondered how someone like that could be a traitor. Much less to Drake-kind.

No, she didn’t think he was a conspirator with the north. Navine tip-toed back to Helessia, her mother’s rooms, and reported to her.

“That was definitely the Human.”

“And did he seem smitten? Off-guard?”

Navine thought about the question. Helessia was lying abed, but she was being sat up by two helpers, and she was going down to see Zail herself. But Ilvriss demanded attention—

Helessia was looking better than usual. The news from the fantastic victory against Fissival had invigorated her, though all she had said was how idiotic Zail was that a war was getting him out of the apartments. But that was how you could tell she was feeling better—she had complained for four days straight leading up to the battle, then the moment she heard about the Fissival army surrendering. During that time, she and Navine had also been doing an investigation they had sweated over. Ilvriss’ sister spoke quietly.

“Ilvriss was off-guard, certainly. But he just seemed—normal. And if he was paranoid, he wouldn’t be speaking in the open.”

“Then it’s Pallass if anyone. Or he’s working against Pallass. I just cannot think he was actually conspiring with the Goblin Lord.”

“Nor I. Maybe he doesn’t know…?”

Helessia raised her brows.

“Navine. He knows. And if he’s leaving for Liscor, we may have to figure out more either behind his back while we have free rein or whenever he goes. Why does he have a dead Pallassian Wing Commander as a bodyguard?”

Asrira Shieldscale, or rather, Osthia Blackwing. She was Pallassian nobility, even though they counted it less. Niece to Thrissiam Blackwing, a Pallassian [General] who had perished during Pallass’ battle against the Goblin Lord.

How had she come into Ilvriss’ employment? Navine was burning to know, but caution made her and her mother observe. Ilvriss had always been ideologically opposed to Navine and her mother’s stance on reconciliation with the north. So had Zail.

What a mess the family was in now that Zail was actively taking a role in Salazsarian decisions. What a mess…but it was not all bad. Even Navine had felt a surge of pride when she had watched the scrying orb.

 

——

 

Old men with levels.

The parade entering the City of Gems was twice as large as usual because of the unexpected nature of it. And Salazsar was a Walled City. They knew how to throw a military parade.

Erin Solstice reappeared on the street, surprising the heck out of a few people, but largely unnoticed. She passed through members of the crowd towards the front.

She was not the only clandestine observer. There were dozens of scrying orbs, not just recording, but showcasing reactions.

That was the big trend of the day. People reacting to stuff. Giving commentary. [Strategists] loved to tell you what the Scintillation Counter was and why Fissival were idiots for not obviously anticipating that Zail would come out of retirement and use the exceptionally difficult and risky technique.

But that was overshadowed by the transformation some of the older Wall Lords and senior Drakes had undertaken. The person of this hour was not just Zail Gemscale, though he came into the city raising a sword overhead to raucous cheers.

Erin Solstice was more interested in someone else. She narrowed her eyes, looking around.

“Which one is it? Which…ah. There you are.”

She saw him riding in slowly, and at first, he looked like he was barely able to sit upright. They must have put him on the horse; there was no way he could sit properly, let alone hold the reins. But as he entered the main thoroughfare through one of the gates of Salazsar, Wall Lord Eschowar sat taller and suddenly, with sure confidence.

Erin Solstice saw his scales were pale yellow, or had been. They looked like dust now, and unlike Chaldion, he hadn’t withered and shrunk in height. Eschowar was a big Drake who had just…slowed. Slowed until he shook, unable to properly grasp objects.

But those eyes of his did shine with a pale blue color, like skies before thunder. Apt, for the [Fulminous Lord of Cabochon]—cabochon was a type of cut stone before it was set—had once been a master of lightning.

Once? That implied that he had lost it. Certainly, he had retired and sat unneeded by his city until he came out of retirement with Zail. But the world had conspired to reward him for his return, and it was he that Erin focused on.

She saw his lips move, and the Wall Lord wearing the Rubirel armor—save for the helm—whispered the name of his new Skill.

[Recaptured Sublimity].

And he changed in every detail but his actual appearance. A hush swept before him as the Wall Lord sat straight on his horse and captured the reins. The nervous animal danced forwards, then began to trot as he sat tall, at ease on his horse, inspecting his strong limbs—

The cheering grew louder, and a floating scrying orb showed a beaming Drake raising a cup in his old mentor’s direction.

Wall Lord Aldonss. Erin Solstice’s eyes narrowed as she saw the familiar leader of Manus toasting Wall Lord Eschowar and honoring his mentor.

It would be so easy to dismiss Eschowar and the others as putting on a show, or downplay what this meant. But Erin Solstice had heard Eschowar’s new Skill. And she was more aware of what it meant.

Klbkch the Slayer would flip if he realized who had benefited from the Skill he had created. But he’d flip twice if he realized that Wall Lord Eschowar, within a day of gaining his Skill, was doing more with it than Klbkch had ever thought to do.

Erin crept closer in the crowd, passing through people. Administrator Alrric, watching the parade, nearly dropped the ice-cream cone he was bringing to his daughter and wife as he saw Erin appear out of someone’s chest.

Look. Listen. Erin’s eyes narrowed as she heard Aldonss shouting and Eschowar talking over the roar of the crowd.

“Lord Eschowar! Are you going to be visiting Manus? The Dragonspeaker would love to host you! Your comrades, too!”

The Drake replied drily.

“I can only do this for a few minutes. We’re retired, Aldonss. Look to your own mentors if you want inspiration.”

“Sir, The Last Defenders of the Wall have captured our imagination!”

“That was Zail’s idea, not mine. You should be more concerned that we want to settle things with Manus after Fissival.”

“S-sir? Good joke!”

Lord Eschowar smiled, and now, Erin Solstice swore she could see his aura hanging in the air around him as he rode past her. She was too far away, and the [World’s Eye Theatre] didn’t allow her to smell or feel auras. But she definitely saw the sparks racing down the horse’s flanks and the crackle every time Eschowar talked.

His aura was at full strength. He was in complete command of his body, but more than that—the Drake’s eyes flickered to Aldonss, then the side.

“I’m more interested in strategic reports. If you want to do your mentor a favor, copy over everything of note in the last two years. I couldn’t keep up due to exhaustion. Now, I might have prescient insights. I hope this Skill works more than once per day. We should be more active in Salazsar, Zail.”

He turned sideways, and the Wall Lord walking with sword raised was scanning the crowd for his son. Zail turned.

“What? Why? We’re the last defenders of the wall.”

Eschowar leaned over as Erin walked left, listening to him speak.

“Defense when they come to the walls is a bad idea. You know that. Salazsar needs must move with the times, and the New Lands are a wave that’s kept everyone off-guard. With deference to Ilvriss, he never knew the Scintillation Counter. We may be old, but we have a different mentality to the modern generation. If we can shore up the gaps, now is the time to put everything we have left into it. Especially you and I. How’s the back? Tail?”

“I can’t even feel it hurting. I think I could go a few rounds on the practice courts again.”

Zail seemed greatly pleased. Eschowar smiled. Then he turned in his saddle.

“Don’t overstretch. We’re buying our glory days. I feel—clear. Clear and sharper than I have in the last sixty years. This isn’t just my return to form. This is a return to my peak. What a dangerous Skill. Insight tells me the first person to buy the goodwill of is Erin Solstice. If she can walk in Salazsar without anyone noticing—would you care to attend a Security Council of Manus, Miss Solstice? They should respect your feedback more than mine in this hour.”

Then he turned his head and stared at Erin. She froze, tried to back up, and nearly fell off the dais.

It wasn’t as if she’d been subtle at the near-front of the crowd, creeping along while passing through people. But Zail hadn’t even noticed. He whirled, and Eschowar winked.

“Uh—uh—hi! I was just—”

“I am sure you were. On behalf of Salazsar, welcome to the City of Gems!”

The Drake swung himself off the horse, landed on two feet, and then, to Erin Solstice’s horror, bowed deeply.

Every scrying orb in the city instantly fixed on her, and the crowd drew back. Erin waved her hands, but it was too late. Eschowar winked, then raised his voice.

“We have an honored guest! Why don’t you join us, Miss Solstice? Zail, move over.”

“Dead gods save me from the schemes. Wait…are you the one who gave my son the chess board?”

Zail’s scowl became considering, and Erin panicked as she was brought into the parade. She almost vanished on the spot, but that might be worse.

The old man had got her! Another Drake appeared and sheathed his blade.

“You don’t want me to cut the Skill off? She’s got death right behind her.”

Major Khorpe looked disappointed. Zail groaned.

“Khorpe, please stop. You didn’t get a Skill that helped with…?”

“Don’t need one. I remembered how to dodge.”

The Drake spoke more confidently than before. Eschowar raised a claw, and a parasol of lightning shot down, crackled around his claw, and he held it up as Ilvriss came running and saw an embarrassed Erin being escorted by the parade.

Wall Lord Eschowar. Erin glanced up at him and realized her fears or suspicions were confirmed.

Klbkch had never thought of this. Wall Lord Eschowar was at his utmost sharpness both mentally and physically. In fact, she guessed he was taking full advantage of his power to maximize his ability to think.

And he was higher-level than Klbkch. Whether or not he was stronger than the Slayer in his heyday, his level was higher. Klbkch had never considered using the mental powers of [Recaptured Sublimity].

Well…maybe he had done it and that was as smart as he’d ever been. But Eschowar was giving Erin full Chaldion vibes. She wondered who he had been.

 

——

 

“Dead gods. He looks like the same Drake that taught you how to throw lightning bolts. I remember Wall Lord Eschowar’s storm offensive. He sent Weatherfur packing in the only weather war they’ve ever lost when they took the side of Terandria’s war. Does anyone else remember it?”

Half the Security Council were on their feet, and Dragonspeaker Luciva realized not all of them were old enough to even remember that.

Even Wall Lord Aldonss, who had been taught by Eschowar, looked dumbstruck at his return to form. The only two members of the council not present were Lulv and Rafaema.

Makhir was staring at Erin Solstice, but he broke away long enough to growl.

“Are we idiots? Eschowar’s presence makes me think we’re damn idiots.”

“What do you mean, Makhir?”

Aldonss took mild offense to the only Gnoll member of the Council voicing a comment he thought might be against his mentor. But the [Hunt Commander] just shook his head.

“Why did we allow him to retire? No, why did we not bring back our own veterans? I know we work till we drop in some areas, but—look at him. I heard Eschowar was one of the pivotal figures in Salazsar’s decision-making for decades. And we just let him sit and forgot all about him?”

He was agitated, and the Security Council nodded. Look at that. Even if it had been Skills that enabled Eschowar’s return to form for a while—

How could they have forgotten the potential? These older Drakes…none of their classes had left them. 

“We should take a census. Not just in Salazsar. If any Walled City or Drake city has underutilized talent—”

They began making plans instantly, and Luciva lowered her head. She looked at the empty seat.

“I know someone who’d tell us we were fools for thinking age mattered.”

Everyone turned and regarded the empty chair where their Dragon usually was. A newcomer to their number, General Williv, nodded, deadpan.

“Spearmaster Lulv would be cursing us all out. An incisive mind, that Gnoll.”

Luciva turned to stare at the General, and he gave her a grin. Dead gods, he was a jokester. She groaned internally, but then looked at the beaming Drakes.

 

——

 

They had taken even Erin Solstice off-guard. That was a statement enough in itself. The flustered [Innkeeper] on the scrying orb, Eschowar, Zail…

Why didn’t they keep leading their cities? 

All these recriminations, regrets, bright ideas…one person in Pallass had a different take on why they weren’t leading the world still.

“Three main reasons. Exhaustion. You think they wanted to have to lead every army, make decisions, and take the heat for it for another three decades? They get tired. Or hurt. Zail is a perfect example of that. He might have been a Swordmaster of Salazsar, but he became a liability and lost a step. That would have gotten him killed. He was fighting a battle where he had the drop on the enemy. They know they’re risking their lives.”

Grand Strategist Chaldion was smoking a storm as he stared at Eschowar’s image. He didn’t like the recent revelations at all. It felt like it was pushing him…and not just because Eschowar was a proper snake.

That was a high compliment from Chaldion. He went on, agitated, as he ranted to Duln and Shirka. He didn’t like how the map was redrawing itself so fast.

Especially around the Winter Solstice. What was Erin doing? Letting herself get pushed around by Eschowar? She was better than that! She hadn’t let him bully her, and now she was folding when the lord of lightning shot a few sparks?

Ridiculous.

“What’s the second reason, Grand Strategist?”

Duln was observing like the other leaders of their cities, but he was listening to his old leader, who had never retired. Chaldion growled.

“Culture. And the ambitions of those below. If that lot stayed in charge, they’d stifle their descendants and subordinates. The other half is that we do think once you get grey scales or grey hair—you should be in someone else’s care. That’s the stupid part. Mind you—there’s a need for it. You know why it wasn’t Manus that pulled out some old legends?”

“…Because they’re still in the security council?”

Chaldion snorted.

“No. Because they’re dead. Salazsar makes sure you have someone minding you. Oteslia’s the only other Walled City with a population that’s…”

He snapped his claws, looking for a word as it escaped him.

“Aged?”

Duln suggested. Chaldion glared.

“Vintage. Frankly, even if we searched, we’d find a handful in any good condition. Pallass, Manus, Zeres, and Fissival don’t have the same attitude towards taking care of their elders. If the family forgets—who checks to make sure they’ve gotten enough to eat? We have to correct it. Ram it through the Assembly of Crafts and then go back in time three centuries and fix it!”

He began throwing his ashtray and spare cigars across the room in frustration. The things he had observed with age were becoming actual failings of his city. Duln leaned aside as a few of the younger [Strategists] ducked.

“So Oteslia has a march on us. We have you. What’s the third reason, Grand Strategist?”

Shirka was largely unmoved by his tantrum. Chaldion paused, then hesitated. He stared at Eschowar’s face and gave voice to the third reason, which was too honest for him, but had to be said. The truth…

“The third reason is that perhaps they retired and quit because…they shouldn’t have been in charge. You think that’s a spotless Drake over there? What do you see?”

He jabbed his cigar at the glowing [Fulminous Lord]. All Chaldion saw was a stain. It clung to him and every Drake who had made it. The Grand Strategist’s gemstone eye glittered almost as dangerously as his living eye.

“The worst thing for us is having them come back and take control. Especially them. They’ve tasted dust and disrespect for decades. Now? They’re not going to sit back and be ignored. Go read a history book and recall why Eschowar’s retirement was cheered in the Assembly of Crafts. There was a time when that Drake was holding Manus by a leash and taking aim at the north and other continents. He nearly dragged us into a full-scale war that would have let the Antinium sweep over us when they arrived. The House of Minos had to march on us before he ‘decided’ to retire.”

Shirka and Duln looked at Chaldion. The Drake looked—nervous. He growled as he pushed back from the table.

“Let’s go to the damn inn. Someone grab Erin Solstice out of her theatre.”

 

——

 

Chaldion was unkind to call Erin hapless in the face of Lord Eschowar. He had her on the ropes when he found her out and got her pretty good.

She got most of Salazsar back when Wall Lady Calistoca and the other Walled Families, old and young, came to greet the older Drakes.

“The Last Defenders of the Wall. A formal title honoring your service to the city. Wall Lords, esteemed elders of Salazsar, we salute your courage. I believe I am the first to say that age is a meaningless number.”

Calistoca looked invigorated herself. She seemed to be picturing a newfound authority based on her age, rather than it being a detracting figure. The younger Drakes looked very unhappy, sensing, perhaps, that they were now going to be challenged on their monopoly on authority.

Where before they could push an older Drake to the side with age as an excuse, if they tried that now, they’d get a shiv to the shin. ‘The Last Defenders of the Wall’ was going to be an official title.

Worse? Still worse? Old people knew each other. And they would happily gang up and stop fighting amongst themselves to get their way over a younger generation.

They had learned how to work together if need be. Age and treachery was going to suck.

Erin Solstice saw it all as the Wall Lady turned to her.

“Erin Solstice, you are a welcome, famed guest to the City of Gems. In person or as an…apparition? May we have a few words?”

The scrying orbs were on her. And the Drakes were eager to get Erin’s comments. The [Innkeeper] was already a ‘guest’ of Eschowar.

Erin gave Calistoca a happy smile that set Khorpe’s [Advanced Dangersense] off. He performed an evasive dodge straight out of frame as she replied.

“Thank you for inviting and noticing me, Wall Lord Eschowar, Wall Lord Zail, Wall Lady Calistoca, and—everyone else. Your city is magnificent, and I just had to see it. Y’know, I only know Pallass, but the City of Gems is just as impressive as I hoped.”

“Mighty in war and economy. Perhaps you should consider a partnership with the City of Gems. Your famed door might not reach us yet, but there is a will and a way for our allies.”

Calistoca smiled smugly. Erin beamed.

“Absolutely. And I know Salazsar is a fine ally—it’s the only Walled City besides Oteslia that sent a proper army to fight for the Gnolls.”

A few Drakes puffed up even more at that public acknowledgement, despite Ilvriss’ glare because they’d just censured him over that. Calistoca smiled, but Eschowar looked nervous. He tried to nudge, silence Erin, or do something, but she was a projection without a body, and Skills just bounced off the Level 49 [Innkeeper].

“We are both the youngest Walled City and old enough to honor every vow. Salazsar is forwards-thinking to both Liscor and the times, Miss Solstice.”

Calistoca was preening. Erin, straight-faced, gave her a nod.

“I know. That’s why I was delighted to know that the City of Gems was going to help fund the Gnolls’ recovery efforts. There are Silverfangs in Liscor, and a munificent city that remembers its old friends would do nothing less.”

She enjoyed Calistoca’s face freezing over, and Erin’s happy smile really was happy. The older Wall Lady tried to come up with a suitable dodge as all the cameras slowly focused on her, but then someone put a metaphorical knife in her back.

“Innkeeper Erin is being a bit too forward, I think. It’s too soon to publicly declare any action without ratified treaties to prove intent. Salazsar is a city that honors the written word—you can refer to that.”

Wall Lord Ilvriss spoke up, and Calistoca smiled in relief. Zail gave his son a warning stare, but Ilvriss went on smoothly.

“Miss Solstice was just visiting the city to get a tentative treaty to the Walled Families. Any signatures would need to precede the announcement, or we would make a fool out of ourselves. I, myself, have already actually pledged to contribute House Gemscale’s mining taxes to the Gnollish recovery efforts.”

You low-born salamander. Every member of the Walled Families turned to stare at Ilvriss, and he gave them a polite smile and even a slight bow that was the largest middle-finger Erin had ever seen in her life. He really did hold a grudge over the censuring. She beamed—right up until Lord Eschowar chuckled.

“It seems we must all adjourn to the meeting rooms. Miss Solstice, you are a welcome guest twice over! We shall be back once we finish talking.”

“That’s so great! Wait—me?”

Erin had gotten Salazsar back, but they grabbed her foot on the way down. Eschowar gave her a bland look.

“We could not do without proper representation. From the Gnollish Chieftains, obviously, but you would want to make sure everything is going smoothly. May we plan on three meetings, Wall Lady Calistoca? We’ll need to establish old titles and reorganize the meeting—then hear proposals before debating. Miss Solstice, please, this way.”

“N-no—”

Erin tried to vanish, but she was trapped. She tried to run—and Krshia, Elirr, and several Gnolls who wanted gold more than they cared about Erin’s boredom actually appeared and pushed her back into frame.

And Ilvriss just laughed.

 

——

 

The City of Gems. Nothing gave Ilvriss more satisfaction than someone coming here and seeing it.

Even if Erin wasn’t there…she could at least see. And arguably, it was more fun for her to sit in her inn than stand in the admittedly freezing temperatures high on a tower with the wind blowing through enchanted clothing.

If anything, she was obnoxiously snug. She had a huge blanket on her shoulders, and she had a chair. She was wrapped up like a sausage, and the only gap was for a hand to slowly reach out and eat from a bowl of chips.

Crunch. Crunch.

It was the same trick she’d pulled on the Walled Families when they made her sit in their meetings. Huge bowl of obnoxious snacks. Unfortunately, the Drakes had retaliated by pulling out their food, and they were already sitting in padded chairs. Did she think they would sit in some stuffy room with hard-backed chairs?

They’d convened in a massage parlor, once.

Despite being tricked, her eyes were alight as she stared down as he pointed out the mines and parts of his city.

“That’s the Element of Brass concert hall. Designed by a metal-Dragon in the past. I can show you it up close, but we have the Adamantium mines—there. Our own library is there—and there—those are the largest two, and the Museum of Rainbows is there.”

“Oooh. Why rainbows?”

“All the gemstones.”

Erin leaned forwards, agog as he pointed down at the snow falling over his city.

“Oh! I think I see lights coming out the windows. Oooh, oooh—I’m gonna throw up. It’s so high!”

She stared down at the vertigo-inducing drop over the edge of the tower balcony. Even though she knew it was her Skill and she was safe on solid ground—it was terrifying.

“Is it? I suppose you get used to the heights.”

Ilvriss had virtually no acrophobia, having grown up here. He looked down at the thousand sights that made up Salazsar. And that was just the tourist stuff you pointed to to impress. He could descend into the streets that were made of generations of work, carved out of the mountain in different styles and to different purposes, and explore for days on end.

He loved this place.

That was why it was going to be so hard to leave. Erin noticed Ilvriss’ sad smile and turned to him.

“Are you really coming to Liscor?”

His head rose slowly.

“Past it. I’ll have to discuss the particulars with you. But I have an inherently risky venture…that I must undergo.”

He had been given the task, no, the knowledge from her own mouth. Just a different person behind that face.

Erin stared at Ilvriss, and there was a shadow of Sserys’ look in her, even now. Perhaps he just imagined it. But she nodded and put the bowl of chips aside.

“I can’t wait for you to get here, Ilvriss. And if you need backup—I’ve got you.”

She flexed one arm.

“See? Look at these guns. I’ve got muscle again! I’m gonna punch whoever gets in your way! Hah! Ow, my back.”

She clutched at her back that hurt from sitting for three hours. She wasn’t completely healed, but she at least had muscle to flex.

Even if there was debatably less flex in that arm than a stick of gum. It was Erin’s way of trying to be reassuring, and Ilvriss smiled.

“I’ll hold you to that. Perhaps you could help talk to my father. Leaving will be…tricky.”

There was so much to do, but he was going. Erin sat up and nodded, and Ilvriss sighed. His breath spiraled into the air. So many things to do, and there was only one of him.

Now there was a Zail and an Ilvriss. One to guard the City of Gems, the other to leave?

If only it was that easy.

 

——

 

The best parts of Zail returning to form was meeting Erin in person. It was seeing Fissival get their tails kicked in.

The worst part of his father returning was that his father had come back. If not to Eschowar’s amazing level, he was strutting about without his cane, indicating a strength Skill. More than that…Ilvriss had seldom seen such a recovery of vitality in a few days.

It was more than just levels; it was willpower, purpose.

Ilvriss was glad, inspired by the older Drakes showing everyone how it was done. House Gemscale was stronger, Zail looked better, and they came to reinforce Izril at a time when every claw might be needed against great foes.

He wasn’t bothered by it at all. As proof of that, Ilvriss had to spend thirty minutes in the bathroom as his father made his way up to House Gemscale’s apartments. Then the toilet clogged.

Bathroom issues were not something Drakes usually spoke of. Not once in the year he’d known Erin had Ilvriss mentioned her outhouses except to ask where they were. Today, of all days…he put his face in his claws and then realized he should have washed his damn hands first.

“Heeeeey, Ilvriss? Your dad’s here. You out yet?”

Erin couldn’t knock on the door, or her hand would pass through, so she just made a knocking sound on her end. Ilvriss shouted back as he cursed and searched around the bathroom.

“Just a second!”

He was not going to walk out there and tell Zail to his face that he had a clogged toilet and the staff needed to get in there. It was true that his family did have staff, but they were ‘staff’ as opposed to servants.

A distinction that had very little weight outside of the terminology, he was aware. But Ilvriss refused to tell them to clean the toilet. He had to have standards.

“Plunger. Plunger. Where’s the damn plunger? This is why acid actually…”

An acid jar would be salvation at this point. He’d dump it in there, and damn the sewers and pipes. Then again, Ilvriss could just imagine every apartment below him complaining of busted and leaking sewage lines.

He finally found a plunger and stared at it. Yes, Drakes had plungers. Not rubber ones, but a kind of wooden contraption, a sealed cylinder that you pushed down to pump air through with a handle. Fancy apartments had a magical one.

“The Aeromancer’s Push, a Fissival-made product. Ancestors.”

He hadn’t had this issue in years. Ilvriss had to remember how to insert it into turgid water, and he closed his eyes a second.

“Today? Today?”

Then he tried to make the damn thing work. Here was the thing about Drake bathrooms. They had actual bathrooms, rather than holes that led straight into septic tanks. Even in a lot of Human cities you still had literal outhouses, or they tossed their waste into the street.

True, a modern, non-Drake city might eliminate the disgusting elements with magical spells, but that was still objectively disgusting, because if you incinerated it, guess what floated up and came raining down?

The problem, though, was that even though Salazsar had plumbing that literally reached to the top of their towers—a hellish thing to pump water up and down from and required magic—they had all the problems of modern Earth society.

In fact, Ilvriss could relate to Erin on a fundamental level neither had ever realized before. After eight minutes of swearing, Ilvriss heard a knock.

“Hey, um. Ilvriss. I don’t wanna bother you, but Zail is sorta here with Eschowar and Navine and your mom, and they’re all waiting for you. I think they’re worried something’s wrong. They were talking about the old Zeresian toilet assassin. Is that a thing, or is that Nerul guy making fun of me?”

“Both. Erin, please make an excuse.”

“Is anything wrong?”

“No. Yes! I’m just having a plumbing issue. Don’t come in here! Don’t—”

Erin Solstice had made a gamble that Ilvriss was not speaking personally and poked her head in the door, shielding one eye. She took one look inside his bathroom, and he shouted.

“Out!”

“Oooh. Clogged toilet. Wait a second. You’ve got a proper bathroom!”

Erin was outraged, astounded, and grossed out. But only mildly on the latter. She had sensed Ilvriss’ distress in his voice, and she sidled into the bathroom.

“I knew it. You don’t know how to plunge a toilet.”

“Erin. I respect you immensely. Get out.”

The [Innkeeper] folded her arms.

“No. I knew I heard sounds that no digestive system could make. You need my help. You’re angling it wrong.”

“I’m fine.”

“Why is there water on your bathroom—ew.”

Ilvriss paused, and he had to admit he needed help. And a change of clothes. The problem with the Aeromancer’s Push was that it was…powerful. He’d angled it wrong, and the plunger hadn’t formed a seal on the toilet. So all the air had blasted out and taken a lot of water with it.

Erin’s concern may have also had to do with the fact that some of the water had begun leaking below the doorframe. She whispered as Ilvriss stood in the blasted bathroom.

“They’re cleaning up the backsplash.”

“The—Ancestors. I just hit this button, and it—”

“You’re angling it wrong. Trust me, I’ve done this at least five times in my life. You gotta turn the water off first. Or dump some hot water in—that’s why it’s overflowing.”

“I tried flushing it.”

“How many times?”

“…Three.”

There was water everywhere. Ilvriss closed his eyes, and Erin stared at him. She was never gladder her theatre did not have smell-o-vision or transmit odor.

“Okay, angle it higher. Like that—no—you’ve got a gap. Wait a second, the plunger’s busted. See? There’s a crack there.

“Ancestors!”

“Maybe you should leave?”

“Covered in this? Absolutely not.”

“Okay, okay. But you’ve gotta get this—listen. It’s a nice bathroom, and I don’t wanna see it get worse. Actually, it’s a great bathroom. Wow. Look at that tub. You might want to clean it before anyone uses it.”

As Ilvriss, praying, angled the plunger and tried to re-engage the spell, Erin looked around, pretending not to hear the horrible gurgling sound. She glanced down, winced…

“There’s not much water left in the bowl. Get some hot water out of the sink and use it. Sometimes it loosens things up.”

There was nothing for it. Ilvriss had to walk over, then open the door after splashing water on himself. As he opened the door, several very concerned members of staff recoiled. They were worried because they’d seen the water leaking and they had heard Erin talking, then vanish into the door. Humans were abhorrent, disgusting, privacy-less creatures, but even so.

“Okay. Okay. Hello? I need a bucket. Change of clothes—tell my family there is a slight, em—no, no [Healer]. Plumbing issues. I have it under control! One of the plungers may be broken. A replacement would be welcome.”

He closed the door and took a shaky breath. Erin patted him on the shoulder. After a few seconds, a bucket was passed through, and Ilvriss ran some hot water.

“So. You’ve got hot water, huh? It’s even steaming.”

Erin was either the best person for this moment or the worst. Ilvriss’ mind had decided he was in denial and that this was just a horrible dream.

I’m not covered in poop water as my family waits for me below with Erin. I’m just giving her a tour of the bathrooms in Salazsar. Yes.

“Hot water, cold—it’s standard in any Walled City. Technically, I suppose, you do have to pay for the utility, so it’s cold water in poorer areas they have to warm with a stove.”

“Ooh. That’s not good in the winter. Do you guys have electricity?”

“Elect…that thing from your home?”

Ilvriss was conscious the staff might be listening. Then he had a horrible thought and turned to Erin.

“Erin. I’m not being broadcast in your theatre, am I?”

Erin looked around quickly.

“Nope. Actually, I’ll seal the doors of the theatre.”

“Thank you. What do I do with the hot water?”

“Let it sit for a few minutes? Then use the new plunger. So—you guys get clogged toilets?”

“Yes. We also have hot water for running baths and showers.”

Erin oohed, looking to the side as Ilvriss splashed more water on himself—and soap. Drakes really did have modern bathrooms.

“That’s so Earth.”

“I dislike how impressed you sound. This is standard, Erin. And frankly, these are some of the best facilities you could want to see—present circumstances excepting.”

“Has anyone else got better bathrooms?”

“F-Fraerlings? Royalty? What a question.”

She was trying to cheer him up, and Erin saw Ilvriss go over to the door and receive a new plunger. As he geared up for round two, telling the staff he would handle it—she looked around and frowned.

“Wait a sec. This is a swanky bathroom. It’s got a bath and shower, mirror, sink, toilet…but what the heck is that?”

The bathroom was one of those porcelain ones with huge, cream-colored marble tiles currently besmirched by brown. But it was interesting to Erin in a genuine sense. It looked like a fancy, private bathroom, one of many in the Gemscale apartments. This one had a huge, wide tub about three times bigger than hers that you could use to shower or have a lovely bath in.

Ilvriss, with some gold knobs, could turn on hot water or cold, and it was all analogous to her world. Admittedly, he had a [Light] spell, not electricity, but it was nice.

The toilet was a bit interesting. Not the poo part—Erin was trying not to embarrass Ilvriss further. But it had an interesting part on the back where you’d hang your tail while doing your business, for Drakes and perhaps Gnolls. Thusly, it was set further from the wall. Most toilets were close to the wall, but it seemed that was less comfortable for Drakes and Gnolls.

Bathroom layouts were a thing Erin had never considered in her entire life. Come to it…how did poor Moore handle things? What about Palt?

…What about Palt? She decided to ask him later in public.

But the thing that Erin had no reference point whatsoever for was this long, trough-like thing where you could sit and…

“Hey, Ilvriss? What’s that?”

He was pumping air into the toilet and hoping it was actually working. Ilvriss glanced over and grunted.

“Bidet. What, have you not got one of those in your world?”

“A bidet? That fancy thing from France? Pssh. Why the heck…how does this thing even work?”

“It sprays water.”

“Water? On what?”

Erin was horrified. When Ilvriss told her, she kicked at it, and her foot passed through.

“What the heck. Who cleans up like that?”

“…Erin.”

“Wait a second, this part’s for your tail. You put your tail in this thing?”

“It drags on the ground. Erin, please. Not all Walled Cities have them.”

“They sure don’t! Lasica and Rufelt don’t have this thing in their bathroom!”

“We got the design from Herizz, the City of Roofs. Erin, how do you not know what that is? It’s a perfectly natural—Ancestors be praised, it worked.”

He grunted in relief as he saw the toilet flushing, and Erin threw up her hands.

“Huzzah! But about this bidet—”

“Get out!”

He turned and screamed at her, and she ran.

 

——

 

A tired Drake appeared twenty minutes later, smelling of rosewater and nothing else, with a new change of clothes on.

Erin hadn’t told anyone about the bathroom incident, but his family still asked if everything was alright. Fifty minutes of waiting for someone to come out of the bathroom…

“Father. You look—incredible.”

Ilvriss paused as Wall Lord Zail turned, and Erin sized up the two at last. Zail was an older Drake with purple scales turned grey, shorter than his son, but all of that was because he had faded with age. He had actually been taller as a younger Drake, and, she had learned, a Swordsmaster of Salazsar.

Not that exact class—it was like being an Archmage of Wistram. He had been a war commander, a Wall Lord who took to the field in defense of his city.

His son was, in theory, like that, but Erin realized that Ilvriss was actually the less martial of the two. She thought of Ilvriss as being a sort of prim and arrogant Wall Lord who’d changed dramatically from when she met him; a businessman, really.

Zail was an older, pricklier version of that. You could see where Ilvriss had learned it from. In fact, he gave Erin a dour look, as the only Human in the room, but they had a chess connection, and Eschowar had insisted she be involved.

What was telling, to Erin, was how Ilvriss greeted his father, revitalized on triumph from the war. He hesitated, almost went in for a hug, aborted at the same time as Zail, and the two paused…then shook hands.

Uh oh. That one moment said a lot. Zail stared up at Ilvriss, seeming taller and more composed, and Ilvriss seemed shocked at the strength in Zail’s body.

“You’re not using your cane. Is it a new Skill?”

“[My Strength, Regained]. It only works for ten minutes, but it cycles around every three hours. Very handy. I always had [Noble Strength], but that didn’t stop the joint pain and whatnot. This new Skill makes me ignore it all. I could climb the Gemscale tower and not feel a thing from muscle pain afterwards.”

“Really? Dead gods. Not that you will.”

“I have better uses of ten minutes. You’re on your own feet now. Did the spell damage clear up? Was there internal bleeding from it? That happens.”

“—Mostly. You mean the issue with the restroom—that wasn’t it—”

Ilvriss looked like he was about to die, so Erin jumped in.

“Hello! Wall Lord Zail, we met, but this is our first meeting together. Ilvriss is a big friend of mine, and I’m honored you let me into your apartment! Hello, Helessia, Navine!”

She waved at the other two Drakes, who stared at her for a second. Zail paused, looked away from Ilvriss—who gave Erin a relieved smile—and demonstrated a second time how he and Ilvriss were related.

“Wall Lord Ilvriss. My son is a Wall Lord, Innkeeper Solstice. Don’t forget. You are a guest of House Gemscale, but in my city—”

Erin’s smile faltered. Oh, this did feel familiar. Even though he was predisposed to like her—no, she supposed this was him ‘liking’ her. She hesitated, because even she wasn’t willing to blast Zail with her classic insolence in front of Ilvriss. But she was getting tempted already.

Ilvriss was the one who stepped in, to Erin’s and Zail’s surprise.

“Father, Erin Solstice talked to Zel Shivertail by name. Standing on formality with her isn’t something I’ve insisted on. It is upon me—Lord Eschowar, Major Khorpe, it is a delight to see you two.”

“Y-young man. Ah, my Skill ran out.”

Eschowar made an attempt to slap his leg, then sighed. Khorpe bowed, staring at Erin from the side.

“It’s on her too. I’ve never seen anything like that. See? She’s coming like a storm…but not yet.”

He actually held out a claw and edged closer. Erin smiled, uncomprehending as the other Drakes tried to shush Khorpe.

“Hello? Major Khorpe? What’s coming?”

“Death. But you’re safe for at least…eleven days? I feel safe around you. Not yet. Not yet. Then—”

Erin’s face went waxy, and Eschowar hurried to introduce the others. Zail, meanwhile, was talking with his son, and Erin caught a few whispers.

“The dignity of—”

“—Father, not the time now to—”

“—just a Human.”

It was clear from the way the other Drakes pretended not to hear that this was not the first time they’d been in uncomfortable moments. In fact, Helessia, the bed-ridden Drake, and Navine seemed like another side of the family as they greeted Erin.

“Miss Solstice, I regret we did not speak after all the unpleasantness at the Meeting of Tribes. You…and Lady Magnolia Reinhart…are the two Humans I have been most interested in meeting.”

Helessia coughed delicately from her bed, and Erin smiled at her.

“Me? I know Magnolia’s very important, but I’m just an [Innkeeper], Lady Helessia.”

“You sound so modest. My son can attest that you are not merely anything.”

The Drake smiled, and Erin grew uncomfortable. But that was nothing to how Ilvriss looked as Zail raised his voice.

“Eschowar has a head for the Walled Families and deciding the politics. Now things have changed—we might not have the energy to do everything, but if we portion our abilities well, Eschowar, myself, and several of the Last Defenders can put in an hour of true effort each day with our Skills. At least! I was thinking to press Fissival. There’s the mines to consider, and your own initiatives, Ilvriss. What if we stopped by Alrric’s office to gather materials and had a meeting in half an hour regarding the state of things?”

“House Erchirite as well could sit in. My own daughter has control, but dividing up responsibilities would be useful to coordinate.”

Eschowar seemed interested too, and Erin saw a full wince roll over Navine’s and Nerul’s faces. He whispered to his niece.

“Ancestors. Each house will now have at least two de-facto heads. Imagine the power plays. Mister Superior is going to have a field day writing those contracts up.”

“Mister who? Is that a name?”

Erin wasn’t part of this city. She had danced into it like the outsider she was, and so she could only sense the change from the outside because it was so obvious.

But Ilvriss? Ilvriss looked tired, and not just from the bathroom escapades. He looked at his father, insisting on a meeting, and Erin wondered why, even on this day, he didn’t seem quite happy.

Zail seemed to sense it too and paused.

“—We could speak with Innkeeper Solstice first, I suppose. Brunch? Regarding the family interests, I meant side-projects, not my assuming control of—”

“Father. Why don’t we go for a walk?”

Ilvriss broke in gently, and Zail blinked. Erin saw Ilvriss look out towards the light snow drifting down and pointed to the windows.

“Just a walk around the walls, perhaps. It’s cold—but would you give me an hour of your time? We could bring Erin too, if you’re willing.”

A walk? Between the two of them? And with Erin? Everyone stared at Ilvriss, but Zail just blinked, then slowly nodded. Erin pointed at herself.

“Me? D-do you want me?”

Both Ilvriss and Zail glanced at her and nodded. Erin looked around at Nerul, Helessia, Navine, and the others giving her the side-eye. Erin hesitated.

“…Why?”

 

——

 

The point of Erin’s presence was to act as the proverbial white elephant in the room. She was like the weird picture on the wall, the odd knick-knack, the conversation starter, the icebreaker.

And there was an iceberg large enough to sink the Titanic for Erin to deal with. The first fifteen minutes of the two Drakes wearing huge coats and heating spells was just them walking around the walls of Salazsar, pointing out more sights to Erin.

There were guards, but they saluted and let the two Drakes pass, and the walk along the walls wasn’t entirely circular. You had a magnificent view from mountainous Salazsar in every direction. Erin imagined it was gorgeous in the spring and summer, but the winter lent this austere snowy world where you stared down for miles at the landscape around the City of Gems.

All of it seemed to give Ilvriss the strength to bring up what he meant to say after fifteen minutes.

“I’m glad you’ve levelled and found a passion, Father. I was worried when you went to engage Fissival. I never considered the Scintillation Counter. Not that I could use it from memory, but I was just trying to rout them. My heart wasn’t in the battle. I got good Drakes and Gnolls killed and nearly died because I didn’t take my foe seriously.”

Zail ducked his head awkwardly.

“Fissival loves to prey on openings. We tricked them. In other times, they’d come prepared for the counter. Acknowledge the dead. We have enough funerals to attend, even with this victory. Their families will be repaid for their sacrifices.”

That was as close as he seemed to be able to come to reassuring Ilvriss. Erin listened to how Zail talked and saw how Ilvriss grimaced and looked sideways at her for a second. Then the Drake nodded.

“I will. Provide recompense, that is. I’d face them, but honestly, Father, your return to form I am glad of. It makes it easier for me to leave. I am heading for Liscor to begin an expedition of my own, a private venture. It may take months, but I have to go. Today, or tomorrow if not today. Fissival’s army has retreated, and now is the opportune moment to go before they attempt another blockade.”

Zail and Erin both started, and the older Wall Lord stumbled. Ilvriss reached for his arm, but Zail brushed it off.

“Today? Liscor? Are you mad, Ilvriss? You want to leave our home when we have all the opportunity? Eschowar is back, I can lift a sword—we could train together! I’ve seen you sneaking off to learn swordplay. And what about your company?”

Ilvriss put his claws in his pockets.

“I’ll let you and Alrric work it out, Father. That would be ideal. As I said, I can trust Salazsar will have someone to protect it, now. I know this seems like I’m running off, but—”

“I’m not intending to take the company from you, Ilvriss.”

Zail searched Ilvriss’ face, and the younger Wall Lord smiled briefly.

“I know.”

“This is just an attempt for me to help. You should—you must be the face of House Gemscale.”

“I know, Father. I’m not running away from you. I just—have to go. I told you, I was given instructions from the only person that outranks us.”

Erin’s skin chilled as his eyes settled on her, and Zail swung around to the [Innkeeper]. His lips compressed at the thought she was hearing secrets of state, but then he turned to Ilvriss.

“You can’t leave today, Ilvriss. Delay a week.”

“A week is too long, Father. I need to get in position. There is more than just my project at stake.”

Again, he looked at Erin, and Zail’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at her.

“Are you seriously in love with her?”

“Wh—me?”

“Father.”

Ilvriss snapped, shocked. Zail folded his arms, standing in the snow, looking annoyed and imperious, and Erin saw his eyes flash.

“Answer me. I understand moving because you were given orders by ghosts. I understand doing things for the good of Salazsar, but you are a Wall Lord. Delegate! Send Alrric or Captain Shieldscale. The only time you’ve left Salazsar was literally to pursue the Tidebreaker because no one else would, and to combat the Goblin Lord. This is your city. You’re needed here.”

“No. I’m not. And your return proves that. Father, I’d love to reconnect, but this is something I can only…no, I want to do it myself. Please, just give me your blessing, and we will speak via speaking stone. But I have to go.”

Ilvriss’ shoulders were hunched, and he avoided Zail’s eyes, staring at his feet. Zail made a strangled hissing noise.

“You can’t delay for a single week? Think of what Eschowar could teach you! Think of—”

“Father. I’ve known Eschowar all my life. He can only teach me what you did, to be a better Son of the Walls and a Drake. I’m going to Human lands, to forge ties and alliances. It has nothing to do with my affection with Erin—I like her as a trusted friend, but I have no romantic feelings for her whatsoever.”

Ilvriss turned red, and Zail yanked a clawed hand out of his pocket. He stared at a flashing series of blue lights—then a faint red one.

The younger Wall Lord had forgotten his father carried a [Detect Truth] ring on him at all times. He slowly turned crimson. At this point, someone spoke up in a strangled voice.

“I, uh—should I go for a walk over there?”

Erin was backing up, but both Drakes turned and snapped.

“No. Stay.”

Even Ilvriss said that. It might have been because their conversation would get nastier if Erin left. And it was already going to the rocks. Ilvriss took a deep breath.

“My point stands. Father. I am going.”

“Everything has changed, Ilvriss. You are not.”

Ilvriss finally locked eyes with Zail, who had stepped forwards, glaring at his son. He leaned over, glanced at Erin, then spoke in a piercing voice.

“Nothing has changed. Only you, Father! Do you think this will magically change everything? Our family has always been a mess, and your ability to swing a sword—Mother and Navine barely speak to us most days of the week! We haven’t eaten dinner together in a month. No one in the greater Gemscale family talks to us except Nerul, and only because he’s our [Chief Diplomat]! You and I—”

He paused as Zail recoiled, blinking.

“You and I have always been like this. You can’t just win a war and fix things, Father. You never could. I respected you for never trying to do that. Please, don’t start now.”

At this point, Erin was edging down the wall, but the two Drakes started walking after her, conscious, but talking. Zail stared ahead as he marched forwards, and Ilvriss’ cheeks were filled with blood.

“I wish I could have done more.”

“No one blames you for anything. It was how it always—was. Everyone cheered when you routed Fissival. I swore I saw Navine punching the air. But that and this is different. Let me go.”

“You’re needed here, Ilvriss. Salazsar needs you to lead them.”

Zail looked beseechingly at his son, and Ilvriss shook his head, almost laughing.

“Salazsar needs me like it needs another rock to hold the city up. This city…our home doesn’t change, Father. You came out of retirement because the foundations rocked. Me leaving is better.”

“It’s selfish. She—”

Zail glared at Erin, and Ilvriss actually knocked Zail’s claw down as he began to point.

“Don’t lecture me on being selfish, Father. We’re Drakes. We do glorious things for petty reasons. Our entire species is selfish and idiotic. How many wars did you and Eschowar win that started over someone throwing a wine cup? This is the best thing I can do. I need to go, and you need to let me.”

Ilvriss’ comments made Zail’s head snap back. And then his father got angry. The Wall Lord pointed down at the walls as a [Soldier], marching along Salazsar’s walls, took a look at the two arguing in the snow and tried to hurry past. He stared at Erin, who was standing so far to the side she was floating in space past the walls. But she couldn’t escape Zail’s words.

“Petty. Petty? You want to say we’re ‘petty’ as you stand on the walls your forefathers bled and died on? Ilvriss! What about all the brave Drakes who’ve died for these walls? Your bones and blood are in this city!”

Ilvriss’ head was ducked as Zail raised his voice.

“Eschowar! Myself! Khorpe! Lastillel! They died for this ground! Lastillel died right there, with Pallassian arrows raining down. Chaldion’s son killed him, and you want to go there without thinking of your home? Itreus! Linvios—no matter who we are, we know our duty! Calistoca, Redrein, Allnot, Seiryene—”

He was howling names, and Ilvriss snapped. He screamed back, screamed into the frozen air.

“I don’t remember who they are!”

Erin’s head snapped back despite her hands over her ears, and Zail froze. His eyes widened with outrage, but Ilvriss had the screaming advantage.

“I never knew them! Father! They’re dead! I was a boy when you told me they were dead—some of them were dead before I was even alive! They’re your memories. Not mine.”

“They were sons and daughters of the wall. That’s all you need to know. Or haven’t you seen your own comrades fall?”

Zail hissed back after a second, his face turning white as Ilvriss’ turned deeper crimson. His son paused, then whispered back in a tone that carried down the entire wall.

“Of course I do. How many of them do I have to sacrifice to our city? How many names do I have to add? Brilm? Tasilt? I’ve given everything to our city, and what did it give me? Periss is dead, and I was ashamed of even telling people I loved her. That’s what I remember when I face her parents. How many more bodies do you want me to throw off these walls, Father?”

He was pointing a clawed finger over the walls and yelling. Zail inhaled to shout back—and he seemed to remember Erin was there. He and Ilvriss paused—looked at her and the [Guards] ducking down as if they were under fire—and stopped.

Both breathed. Just breathed, vapor leaving their mouths like Dragonbreath. Ilvriss stared down as if he could see blood running down Salazsar’s mighty stone walls.

“Whose are they, anyways? Whose walls? Ours? Or the dead’s?”

Zail opened and closed his mouth. He eventually managed to shake his head.

“I went through the same feelings you did, Ilvriss. You’re mourning. You’ll—”

“What? Come around? Forget? Give in? Let me leave. If I’m a ‘son of the walls’, I’ll return. Maybe that’s my fate, no matter how far I go.”

Ilvriss stared at his claws, then up with an almost sick look at Zail. And his father’s look of uncertainty was so bare that it turned to anger because the other emotion was too hard to endure. But again—he stopped. Closed his eyes. Then he tried to reach out, but Ilvriss recoiled, so Zail stopped and spoke.

“Just…tell me why. If you need to—why don’t I go with you?”

That threw Ilvriss, and he stood there a second. Erin saw his face turn, and Zail stared at his son.

“It’s me, isn’t it? You don’t want me to go with you.”

“No. Yes! You’re too old to risk your life. And you need to change to go to Liscor, Father. Maybe you could, but I also have to do this—myself. If you go there, I’ll stand in your shadow, even more these days. I have to go myself. Have you ever felt…called?”

Ilvriss closed his eyes, trying to explain how he felt. Zail’s angry, hurt glare turned puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

Ilvriss looked at Erin, then past her, towards the north.

“Called. That’s the best way I can describe it, Father. I thought I was being called to duty before, many times. I thought I knew what it meant to be a ‘Son of the Walls’—but I haven’t. That was just acting and convincing myself it mattered. Now, I feel it, and the true thing is different. It feels like something’s in my blood, telling me to start running. It’s not glorious, but it is real. Realer than anything I’ve felt. As if you’ve been preparing for something without knowing it all your life. Then—this is it and you’re terrified, but you have to go.”

He was trying to explain what was driving him out of his city. No—trying to explain what had happened to him. Zail stared at Ilvriss like he was looking at a stranger.

But they had always looked like that, son and father. It was just more honest now. Erin watched, wide-eyed, as Zail slowly nodded. He murmured.

“Yes. I have felt that before. Called? By what?”

“Need. A need to be something I can’t even see yet. A need to see it with my own two eyes, Father. It’s the biggest gamble I’ve taken. I would have loved if this came a month earlier. Then we could have talked. But let me go, please? If I delay, if I’m too late or underprepared—”

He looked at Erin a final time.

“I will regret it my entire life. I cannot be late.”

All of it, all of this conversation, was delivered with Erin in earshot.

The conversation was going low, and personal. Perhaps Ilvriss and Zail did not get to the bedrock, the purest things they could have said that would tear the air in a private sitting room. The knives were only partly out because they had an observer.

But then again, perhaps that most-honest conversation would have never come out if they were alone, and this one, dancing around the heart of it, was the only one Zail and Ilvriss could have, for now. The older Wall Lord hung his head a moment, then nodded.

“…Very well. That’s the point of the Last Defenders of the Wall. It is the point. Go, and tell me what you need, and you will have it from the City of Gems. Armies or funding. I will want reports and explanations.”

“Of course.”

Ilvriss relaxed in pure relief, but Zail was not done. Nor did either one smile. Not right now. Erin felt like she was watching them bleed, but the words were coming out. Zail reached up and touched Ilvriss on the shoulder.

“I have one demand.”

“Which is?”

Ilvriss tensed, and Zail gestured below at the City of Gems still celebrating the victory, adjusting to the new war.

“You are my son. Don’t go like a thief in the night. Go like a Wall Lord. Remember that.”

 

——

 

Wall Lord Ilvriss treasured that last comment as valuable. Because it was true; he was a Wall Lord.

He was no Zel Shivertail. No hero of the Walled Cities after all, and he had learned that. Neither was Ilvriss very good at being a common man, if he even understood what that was. He was an adequate leader of war, but he was no Tyrion. He was good at business, but Magnolia Reinhart and even Alrric could beat him.

What he was good at, he realized with some embarrassment, was being a Wall Lord. And that was a valuable insight, because he had half a day to get ready, and he needed to be a Wall Lord where he was going.

Unlike the City of Gems, he had to earn his value and people’s trust. Money might not buy what he needed, so Ilvriss prepared hard and fast.

“A celebration? For Wall Lord Ilvriss’ departure to Liscor? What? Now?”

Salazsar had a [Coordinator of Events] who managed the city’s holidays, fairs, and more. The quick celebration for the army was standard.

Throwing a second one in the middle of the first gave him conniptions. But the Wall Lords rammed it through because there was no choice.

“It’ll take Ilvriss a week to get to Pallass. What’s the rush?”

Navine wanted Ilvriss to stay for a multitude of reasons, but Ilvriss countered her in a flash. If he couldn’t beat his sister, then the line of people who wanted him to stay would walk over him.

“I will be in Liscor tomorrow, Navine.”

“Wyvern crap. How?”

“Pegasi. I’ve chartered a full dozen for myself, my closest staff, and bodyguards. Everyone else is going to catch up.”

Her eyes bulged, and Erin waved a hand.

“Whoa, whoa. You can get to Liscor tomorrow? How are you going to get to Pallass and use the door in a day?”

“You pay for a [Flight Master], a [Speed] enchantment, and you fly. It’s expensive even for a Wall Lord, but time matters.”

“…Wait, didn’t Pallass ban you from entering the city?”

Ilvriss waved this off as Erin remembered the hullabaloo with him leaving.

“That was over your door. They rescinded the ban afterwards. We’re petty, not idiots. Nerul, get Xesci and Asrira ready and grab everything we need.”

“Ancestors, Nephew! You’re just lucky I’m used to flying off for diplomatic missions. A full-flight in the winter on Pegasi? We’ll freeze our gonads off! Alright. I’ll be back.”

The [Diplomat] charged forth, and Erin heard, below, someone already beginning to shout the news and drum up a second celebration in the midst of the first.

 

——

 

How much did Drakes and Gnolls care that Ilvriss was leaving? Well, whatever lip service they might pay to even the most popular of Wall Lords became more heartfelt once free kegs of drink were rolled out from the warehouses.

If convincing the public to at least smile and wave him off was easy—the Walled Families had objections to him going to Liscor. But Ilvriss met with everyone from Calistoca to Brilm and Tasilt to get them not just behind him, but pushing him to go.

He’d need their support to get armed forces. To not bother him and, potentially, to back him with money, too. The Walled Families had to approve the Erchirite Spears or other forces going to Liscor, and politics could get ugly.

Even with Zail here, Ilvriss had to convince them before leaving. So…Ilvriss lied.

Ilvriss lied like he breathed. Quickly and with no regard for other people’s need for oxygen.

“I’m going to scope out the Antinium danger and prepare for their threat. The taskforce needs Human allies, Wall Lady Calistoca. We may not like it, but if a Third Antinium War appears…what better way to prepare for the foe than to observe the most dangerous Hive?”

“I’m going to avenge the Tidebreaker, Wall Lord Itreus. Or at least, honor him. Think on it. He perished in the north. Someone has to carry his mantle and see what drove him there.”

“It’s about foreign continents, Eschowar. They’re coming for the New Lands. An alliance between north and south might be the most unpopular idea ever, but what happens when the Nagas come back for another round and ally with Terandria? If they invoke the north…”

“I’m bringing back Archmage Valeterisa to the south.”

“I’m shoring up the defenses of Liscor against another attack.”

“I’m investing in a huge business opportunity in Liscor with the door. Frankly, you should too—”

“I’m going because my father is here, and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of him and all the old Drakes with their endless energy throwing their weight around.”

The last person to hear Ilvriss out paused, then laughed.

“That was the most honest reason I think I heard yet, Ilvriss. The others might buy part of your explanation, but…your father looked good. I can’t imagine how it would be, though, if my old man came back full of vim and vigor. We’d probably end up in another brawl.”

Tasilt, the Wall Lord that Ilvriss thought of as one of his closest friends, rubbed at a scar on his cheek. He’d gotten it from fighting his father in the streets of Salazsar when he’d demanded the right to marry a Gnoll. Ilvriss had been there and recalled.

“We’re not that bad.”

Tasilt gave Ilvriss a long look and sipped from a cup.

“Yes, you two don’t throw hands. That’s about it. You know, if you’re going, you’ll drag Salazsar with you. Not just your staff or people. Your sister’s already looking into renting carriages.”

“Navine?”

Ilvriss cursed. Her nosing about was the last thing he needed.

“You’re not following me, are you, Tasilt? I’m doing this for the city, but frankly, the city might get in the way.”

The Drake gave Ilvriss a long look.

“Ilvriss, we’re not that far by Pegasi. I may visit, but I have a family here. You should be more worried about how this connects us with Pallass and Liscor. Politics get messy, and…Salazsar knows Liscor matters. Be careful.”

“About what?”

Tasilt rolled his eyes. He leaned over, making a show of dusting Ilvriss’ collar as the two stood in one of the banquet halls, and whispered in Ilvriss’ earhole.

“About who they send to keep an eye on you.”

Ilvriss paused and realized that unlike last time when he’d gone off to fight Zel then been waylaid in Liscor, this would not be the same careless adventure. He was going as a Wall Lord, and the full weight of the City of Gems was behind him.

And they did not always think like he did. Zail was a good representative of some of their beliefs. Ilvriss cursed and looked around.

“No wonder Father was so keen on not letting me go!”

“Yep. Eschowar’s a snake, Ilvriss. He and Chaldion might begin squaring off like the old days. Go read a book on what he did.”

“I remember all the stories.”

Tasilt tapped Ilvriss on the arm.

“I mean, go read a book that’s not Zail reminiscing about it, Ilvriss. See what the other cities thought about it. But check it out from a Pallassian library. You rushing off means you’ve got the march on them. That’s smart. Don’t be a stranger.”

He hugged Ilvriss briskly, and the Wall Lord looked around Salazsar. There was so much to do in this city—but it would keep. He did want to go to Liscor. And he smiled then.

 

——

 

“What do you mean, it’ll keep? I asked you to help with the Turnscale thing, and you’re dropping it?”

Ilvriss had been told that his commitment to Erin’s agenda was lacking in some areas. He had thought he was taking it seriously.

Apparently not. He tried to get a word in edgewise.

“Erin, I’m far from home. I can’t—I’ll learn from you in person.”

“You’ll get my boot up your butt in person! I promised—people—you’d help! Argh! Okay, maybe you can do some good in Pallass. But when you get here—Mrsha! Mrsha, tell Peggy that you’re allowed to prank up Ilvriss’ room with whatever you want!”

Erin stomped around as Ilvriss made the final preparations to go. Ilvriss had already been assigned rooms in her inn, and he’d told her he’d need a bevy for Nerul, Asrira, Xesci, and his bodyguards.

In truth, he might need rooms in Liscor proper or somewhere else, especially because he might not stay. But Ilvriss needed to find allies and prepare for…a dig.

He was, in fact, worrying about what to bring. Not just his anti-Az’kerash measures. Those were standard.

“I need to win over the nobility of the north, Erin. I will have to cross into their lands, and I have gold; the Merchant’s Guild can withdraw what I want. But there’s the issue of guards. I will take the Rubirel Guard as bodyguards, and Salazsar will send forces after me, but an army marching into the north is an act of war. I need…support.”

“You’re digging.”

Erin swung around with a wary look in her eyes as a white Gnoll rushed off, groaning about having to find centipedes in this cold weather. Ilvriss bit his tongue, then met her eyes and nodded.

“I doubt I will be able to keep what I’m doing hidden. Digging, protecting the miners, slaying monsters—it will be a mess.”

“The nobles might not like that. Darn. I’ll speak with Ryoka and see how it is. How many people are flying by Pegasus?”

“Only my adjutants—you’ve met them. Bodyguards. You know Asrira. But there will be Nerul, my uncle, a [Diplomat], and Xesci.”

“Who’s that?‘

“A…an expert in her field.”

Erin gave Ilvriss a long look of confusion, and he refused to elaborate. In truth, Ilvriss didn’t know how useful Asrira and Xesci would be. One was a warrior, the other was a [Courtesan]…but they were part of the conspiracy, and neither thought they’d be much good in Salazsar.

It was going to be a lot of playing things by ear, but Ilvriss’ main concern was—value.

“We can load each Pegasus up with a chest of holding, Erin. What is the most valuable…item to bring to Liscor to curry goodwill or trade with?”

He was well aware you couldn’t buy love with gold. But you could buy it with other things! Ilvriss had a list.

“I’m planning on rushing all the Adamantium on-hand, magical gemstones…but that’s the kind of stuff that appears in trader caravans. Anything else?”

“The [Smiths] love Adamantium, and Valeterisa would pay you for all the magical gemstones you’ve got. I dunno. Sounds good to me.”

Erin gave Ilvriss a blank look and shrugged. Here was where the social, charming, brave, and helpful [Innkeeper] demonstrated an amazing unhelpfulness and ignorance about the world. Ilvriss paused.

“Can you think of anything? Foodstuffs? Sugar?”

“Uh…avocados? I need like thirty because the beach-group loves guacamole.”

“Erin. I’m talking trade. Avocados come from Oteslia.”

Erin threw up her hands, exasperated.

“Well, don’t ask me, then! I’ll go look around.”

She stomped off, and Ilvriss rubbed at his face. He was just about to tell Alrric to make a bunch of guesses based on his best information when someone appeared, and he nearly jumped out of his scales.

“Ilvriss? That is—Wall Lord? Pardon me, I’m forgetting how to address you.”

Lyonette du Marquin appeared with a blonde Gnoll wearing sunglasses, and Ilvriss burst into a smile.

“Miss Lyonette. Were you about?”

“I can hardly afford not to be! Erin’s not in her beach, and she just deigned to inform me what was going on. That woman…”

Lyonette looked older as she put her hands on her hips. She might be…nineteen? Then again, Ilvriss had always observed age was more relative to deeds, and the young [Barmaid] was a [Princess] in the open.

“Wall Lord, I’m Yelroan, the [Mathematician] serving The Wandering Inn.”

“Oh, the legendary…you turned down our job offer.”

Yelroan fiddled with his sunglasses, embarrassed. Ilvriss knew for a fact Alrric had tried to headhunt him several times.

“Hardly, sir. Let me get your [Administrator] a list of things Liscor needs. Lumber, though it’s hard to put into bags of holding. He can use it for whatever group goes on foot. I have his [Message] contact.”

“Very good. Thank you. Miss Lyonette—let’s just go without titles, shall we? How is Liscor at this moment?”

Lyonette exhaled, but smiled brightly.

“You’d be surprised to see it! That new district is almost complete, and I know you have property there.”

Ilvriss snapped his claws.

“The property! I’d completely forgotten about—I’ll have to do something with that. Damn!”

She nodded, as if not remembering multiple apartments and pieces of land happened to you.

“One forgets one’s own head. But I would rather say that it’s good that you’re coming in person—this is a fine time to capitalize on Liscor’s prospects. If you were to bring anything, frankly, it would be a way to stand out around here.”

“Stand out…how?”

Lyonette fluttered her hands, trying to explain.

“Erin’s inn is an outlier, but the city has Pallassian guests, Invrisilian nobles—but no one stays in Liscor, because there’s not much to the city. With respect to it, of course. Krshia moans in my ear all the time about needing more cultural exports besides the dungeon. If you brought anything, I would bring opportunity or Salazsarian culture.”

“…Hmm. That’s interesting. Do you have any recommendations?”

The idea of bringing something the north might want was appealing to Ilvriss. Lyonette asked for Salazsarian pastimes, and she was very knowledgeable about Liscor and Terandrian customs. The problem was…

“Erin keeps inventing new food, so it’s a saturated market, Wall Lord. The same with pastimes. If you bring something, Wistram will just create another ‘Adventure Room’ experience, or Erin will literally pull a beach out of her back pocket.”

“The problem of having fascinating friends.”

He grimaced, and she smiled. Lyonette hesitated.

“Er—if you don’t mind me inquiring, what was the business with Erin screaming about outhouses? She mentioned we had dreadful plumbing, which I think is fair, but she was demanding to know how much laying pipework costs.”

Ilvriss turned beet red. He relayed a severely edited version of his woes, and Lyonette grimaced.

“The Eternal Throne has sewers, you know. We are a very modern city.”

She seemed keen on assuring him that Drakes’ infrastructure would never beat the Eternal Throne. Ilvriss refrained from asking her what her non-capital cities were like, but he did smile.

“It’s part and parcel to Erin’s world. Though she had no idea what a bidet was.”

“A what?”

This time, Ilvriss gave the [Princess] a look that said he didn’t believe her.

“A bidet. I know this is one of her jokes. Terandrian royalty would definitely know what…”

Lyonette was looking at Yelroan, and the [Mathematician] glanced up from writing.

“What is that?”

When he was sure they weren’t joking with him, Ilvriss indignantly strode over to a clean bathroom and showed one to them. They gave him a long look, and he got annoyed.

“It’s highly practical. How can you live without—that’s it. Alrric? Pack a bidet.”

He shouted into the speaking stone. The Gnoll paused for a long moment.

“You want me to pack a what, Wall Lord?”

“A bidet. Clearly, someone has to clean up Liscor, and no amount of acid jars will help. At least, not the way a bidet will. You want culture? Pack the bidet, and I notice no one in Liscor even knows what a damn sauna is. Heating stones, Alrric, and the stained gem-glass windows. If I have to have a room in Liscor, it’ll be cultured. And solar glass for a greenhouse! You don’t have any of those, eh? And bring—”

 

——

 

“Bring an [Enamel Toothmaker].”

“A what.”

Nerul Gemscale looked up as he tossed clothes into a go-bag. It wasn’t so much that he knew what to pack, it was mentality.

Clothing, documents, emergency medical and security supplies and walk. Everything else you could buy or acquire.

You had to be okay with either losing things or not having what you needed if you were a traveller, and Nerul, as a [Diplomat], was a traveller.

But even he acknowledged he had blind spots, and planning an entire expedition into northern lands to dig for a Walled City?

That was out of his area. He both wasn’t looking forward to it and he was, if that made sense.

Oh, the negotiations would be fire. He’d level—but the danger? The consequences?

He saw it and knew why Ilvriss wanted to go, had to go, but he feared it.

Yet he knew he would be valuable. Osthia Blackwing and Xesci, the two female counterparts of the team, were less happy about the trip because…

They weren’t sure they were needed.

Consider the facts with the brutality of a [Diplomat]. Osthia was a talented Oldblood Drake. But she was one-a-copper-penny when it came to warriors. The Rubirel Guard wore enchanted plate. Even armed, she was not an irreplaceable part of the team for just her combat prowess.

Xesci had it even worse. She had been invited to scope out Az’kerash’s minions and found zero. Now, she was clearly fretting about being useful.

She was a co-conspirator against the Necromancer. As far as Nerul was concerned, if you were loyal and smart, they needed you. But Xesci was reluctant.

The comment about a [Toothmaker] was the first she’d made all day.

“What…is so valuable about that, Miss Xesci?”

“The Humans don’t have them. If Ilvriss wants to bring something, bring that.”

“They don’t have toothmakers. But they brush their teeth. Well, everyone has rot. What happens if there’s trouble?”

“A [Healer] helps. If it’s bad, they pull it.”

“And?”

“And then they have a missing tooth.”

Nerul stared at Xesci, then he started laughing. He slapped his chest.

“Good one! Ah, you nearly had…”

He trailed off when he saw her flat look.

“No. They have replacements. I’ve seen [Storm Sailors] with gold teeth all the time.”

She shrugged.

“They’re [Sailors]. I think they get it done at harbors, and Drowned Folk have their own, but you’d go to a port or a really big city and hope someone could help you if you needed teeth. There’s not a custom or practice. No Guild of Enamelers in the north.”

“Really. Not even the House of El?”

“Custom teeth. They don’t sell them. You want a class that’s not widespread? Get a [Gem Cutter] who does teeth.”

It occurred to Nerul, as he fumbled for Ilvriss’ speaking stone, that Xesci might be valuable after all.

“You lived for years in the north, didn’t you, Xesci? You may be the one member of the group with actual insider knowledge of the north.”

She shrugged without much ego. The woman was living un-ego. She looked like a plain Drake at the moment, with literally no distinguishing features. Basic green scales, ordinarily plain features—you’d lose her in a crowd.

That made her so frightening. She could take on anyone’s face, and even change her height. She was a [Courtesan of Change], and she claimed she had forgotten her original face and form. Frankly…Nerul wondered if she was even a Drake.

“I suppose that is valuable. Though we’d better not sell any Rhir-teeth, eh?”

“…What’s that?”

Nerul chuckled, then realized she didn’t know, and they exchanged a blank look. They were completely different, Nerul and her, despite him frequenting pleasure districts as a matter of business and pleasure.

“Rhir-teeth. Nicknamed because they’re filled with something nasty. If you’re a [Spy] or an expendable [Diplomat]…you chomp down on one, and either you go quiet, or the entire building goes loud. The Blighted Kingdom loves them.”

The [Courtesan] shuddered.

“Oh, Gravedigger teeth. That’s what they’re called in my…circles. You bite one, and there’s a grave for you.”

“How apt. I used to have one back in the day. Then I had it replaced. See?”

He pulled at his lips and showed her a magnificent sapphire tooth in the back that he used to chomp down on hard foods. She gave him a wan smile.

“It sounds like you get treated like an underling in a gang.”

“That…is exactly the diplomatic corps, especially when you’re dealing with our military wing, Miss Xesci. I’m disturbed by how similar it is. Well, what can we expect in the north?”

He adjusted a fat bow-tie, wondering whether some better apparel would make him look like a gigantic buffoon. First appearances mattered. Being the drunk, bluff uncle to Ilvriss would be a great foil.

Besides, getting in with Erin Solstice mattered. From what Ilvriss said, she was as sharp as an Orichalcum blade and played soft power very well.

He was looking forwards to it. Intraspecies politics like his negotiations with the Trisstal Alliance were basic, really. You got some nuance from the Walled Cities, but unless the stakes were high, they just played at a low level because everyone knew the score.

The north? When you negotiated with them or foreign powers—and Drakes had done less of it these days—you dusted off your handbooks. Nerul had long lamented that he could only level so far if Drakes didn’t, in fact, talk to anyone.

“Erin Solstice. It sounds like she’s a natural practitioner of the old Courtly Fool style. You know, bumbling around while averting crises? No wonder she rope-a-dopes most opponents into thinking they’re rolling on her before she hits them low. The trick with someone like that is…either I go in and out-fool her or I go in serious like Eschowar. Frankly—I think honesty is the best approach. Treat her with respect.”

“Courtly Fool? Do you actually make up those terms like the Wineblaster, or is this real?”

Xesci was amused, and when Nerul turned—he jumped as a six-foot-six Gnoll woman, sleek-furred, leaned over on his dresser, smiling at him in a sultry way.

Ancestors, she’s good. If he saw someone like that appearing at a bar, he’d sweat. She looked like one of those diplomatic sharks you took one look at and realized you couldn’t get drunk with once on your entire trip.

Whether or not Xesci realized what she was doing, she was ‘fitting in’. Mimicking someone who might be Nerul’s associate at work…or someone he’d be interested in. She was also learning, and Nerul answered honestly.

“They’re real terms. We have all kinds of terms for the stupidest things. For instance, there’s this advanced technique where you slowly get someone relaxed if you’re trying to get them to admit to something, or make a deal, then ramp the pressure up slowly. You block the doorway, lean over, dominate space—we call this the Imposition Method.”

She snorted.

“Someone has to learn it, I suppose.”

He pointed at her.

“Exactly. We teach everything because you never know what someone doesn’t know. You can be a charismatic genius, and you still need to run through our lessons if you want to dance with the real diplomats. Actually, I love running into [Cult Leaders] and the like. I know all the tricks and how to pick apart the act. Well, my most fun is the really stupid techniques. Ever heard of Umbral Throne diplomacy?”

“…Doesn’t umbral mean shade? Shaded throne? Why would it b—oh. Gross.”

Nerul’s eyes twinkled.

“Exactly. Mutual suffering or extreme pity. Nothing makes you less on-guard than a poor [Diplomat] begging for toilet paper. My old mentor had a story about his master winning a huge treaty. The bastard took a laxative, then…it’s risky if you need to seem impressive, but I think Ilvriss performed a natural version with Erin Solstice just this morning.”

That made her laugh. She sat there a moment, and then she was a shorter, younger looking Drake, like some ingenue in a company, dangling her legs on his bed.

“Do you…think I’ll be helpful, Nerul? If I’m a burden, I don’t want to get in the way. But I want to help.”

He glanced over at her as he packed some scale cream and toilet paper into his bag.

“I think the value we bring is how much we put in, Xesci. After seeing old Zail get out there, I won’t make any bets on who’s useless. But neither Ilvriss nor I can ask you to do something. Not because we won’t; because we don’t know what you can do. We need you to take initiative.”

She looked thoughtful, then blinked as if he had said something she hadn’t considered all the time that she’d been helping.

“Take initiative? Oh. Well in that case, I can do that.”

She smiled, and Nerul was exceptionally glad that workplace fraternization was something he’d been taught to never partake in. Don’t dip your tail in the company inkpot and all that.

This entire time…had she been waiting for them to call on her talents? She smiled, then, and brushed at her neck-spines and turned like an orange blossom, all vivacious audacity, and even her dress looked sharper.

“Dead gods, who are you copying now?”

These were all people she’d known, but this Drake looked familiar. Xesci winked at Nerul, and he recalled she drew from their personalities and knowledge.

“Wall Lady Calistoca when she was younger. I’m thinking like a firebrand. Or maybe that was Maviola El…”

The [Lady] tapped her chin as Nerul stared, and then she shook her head.

“Too impulsive. Calistoca was never good at reading people, though. Who’s the best to think? The ‘Belavierr’ or whomever she was is too unkind and scheming—I keep thinking about how to stab you in the back—I wish I had met that ‘Quarass’ of Germina or a modern legend like Queravia.”

She flicked from form to form, and Nerul wiped at his brow.

Ancestors. He forgot, sometimes, that between him, Osthia, and Ilvriss—Xesci outranked them all in levels.

 

——

 

She really did.

Outrank the other Drakes, that was. Xesci could no longer recall what she had looked like. She had taken on too many roles for too long, and she swore she was a Drake, but was she really?

She was an example of someone who had been…changed by her class.

She had fallen into it. At one point in her life, she had needed to flee, to hide, and it had either been giving something of herself to her class because there wasn’t much of ‘Xesci’ or dying.

The Drake didn’t regret it. The [Courtesan of Change] had a weak class in that she was no [Wall Lord] or [General], who, by definition, levelled slower and gained more power per level.

She was like the [Innkeeper], Erin Solstice. And she was also a patriot, probably, or at least believed in Ilvriss’ cause. She hoped she did.

Xesci thought she liked him. But who knew the truth? Even to her fellow anti-Az’kerash conspirators, Xesci had lied by omission.

She had told them her class…as it was. That was a simple trick anyone could pull on a truth stone. Just say ‘I was’ instead of ‘I am’. Or ‘my class is’, if you’d upgraded it. Word-games.

The truth? The truth was that [Courtesan of Change] was her old class. Her current one was a bit different.

Xesci was a [Courtesan of Reflected Facades].

She was also Level 50.

Exactly. She had been working towards Level 51 for the last six years. Until meeting Ilvriss, Xesci had doubted she would level again. There was no cause or need.

The Drake’s Pearl, the brothel where she had worked, was fairly safe. The workers were not always happy, but a bit of scheming in the Belavierr-form helped them stay out of trouble with their important clients. Xesci made money, and then a Wall Lord walked in with so much unhappiness he had fascinated her.

Because he wasn’t a bitter, poisoned apple ruining the relationship. He had loved Periss. She was dead. It was as close to a true love story as she knew.

Most people, when she looked into their hearts, didn’t have that pure honesty to them. They lied, they cheated on each other, they omitted facts, or they were just unable to hold up half of a relationship. Or—the moment the other half wobbled and dipped and needed support, they let go and wondered why nothing worked out and why this happened to good people.

Hence, Xesci liked Ilvriss the moment he walked in with his earnest regret. If he had asked her, looking like Periss, to spend a night with him, she wouldn’t have thought him as evil or wrong, she would have just lost interest. When he had looked at her and seen her true talent, hiding in the brothel, and brought her into the conspiracy…

It was fun. She was having fun, and the notion of this challenge? She wanted to know what the Necromancer was like. Everything she had read about him said she should know his ruined trust with his kingdom and his love. She had looked for it—a pit of betrayal—and never seen it, but perhaps she was too low-level.

She’d felt useless until Nerul’s comment. Now? She was excited again. Not least to meet the [Innkeeper].

 

——

 

The trip was cold, but Xesci was mostly interested in the goodbye and arrival. The Pegasi had custom saddles you strapped into, and the [Flight Master] was very diligent. The odds of you dying were remote since, even if you fell, you’d just be strapped into the flying horses.

Zail barely looked at her, but Xesci had already known him a long, long time. Helessia Gemscale had been more interesting as a young woman. She was a schemer, a planner, but age and sickness had done them both in.

Zail wasn’t deceitful like Itreus had been to Calistoca, or abusive or even neglectful. He was just not on the side he thought they all embodied, as sons and daughters of Salazsar. He looked to the walls. His daughter and wife looked to Izril.

As did Ilvriss. Xesci watched him shake claws with his friends, from Brilm—who eyed her wearing a Gnoll’s body covered in fur because it was freezing, a simpler Wall Lord—to Tasilt—who always thought of his family and was guarded and unhappy around the other Walled Families who didn’t like him—to Navine—who radiated suspicion—to Calistoca, a well of bitterness along with her estranged husband, Itreus, who stank of secrets.

But Itreus’ secret wasn’t like Az’kerash’s. She thought she knew him. He was simply a Turnscale, and that was an indictment in itself in the south. In the north, too, but she was used to them.

She occupied the dirt, the lowest floors, compared to nobility, and they ignored her as Ilvriss promised to make them proud. He was proud, nervous, torn up about his father, and relieved to head north. Relieved…because all the affection left in his bones was for Periss, his family, and Liscor.

How. Interesting.

The flight was boring. The conversation, not.

“We are currently flying above Izril, people! In theory, this is one of the most private moments we will get!”

Ilvriss barked at his team as they flew at the rear, the [Flight Master] leading the way. Xesci didn’t know all the loyal adjutants and aides around him. They were soldier-types or managers in his company, and they disliked her and thought she was a hanger-on he might be sleeping with.

Osthia was nervous, and Nerul was watchful. Ilvriss? He was fixed on the north. He was addressing his people, not Xesci, Nerul, or Osthia.

“I am going to share some top-level information with you. As you may be aware—we are not headed to Liscor merely to invest or even build up the anti-Antinium taskforce. These are certainly goals, but our real aim is far greater!”

Lie one. They believed it was an anti-Antinium force, not an anti-Az’kerash one. But then, the special forces unit being trained and equipped in Salazsar might well be used for many purposes.

“What then, Wall Lord?”

Ilvriss smiled tightly.

“At the Meeting of Tribes, I ran into General Sserys. The ghost of our people’s hero told me that a great conflict was coming. To be ready. He furnished me with locations. A risky task. Our goal is nothing less than to dig and find one of the lost Walled Cities of the north. To reclaim any treasures we can from it—and bring them to Salazsar.”

Gasps. Exclamations. Wonder, awe, excitement…it seemed genuine except in one of the Drakes. Xesci marked him, a…[Captain of Command], Vendoramt. She signaled Nerul quietly as she glanced at his Pegasus.

“Acknowledged.”

His voice came back tersely. Nerul was employing a speaking stone, but his Skill was [Diplomatic Immunity: Spycraft]. It made it nigh-impossible to ‘hack’ his speaking stones. That was why she was willing to risk even tipping him off. Nerul muttered.

“We’ll tell Ilvriss later. I knew we had a mole. Osthia?”

“Checking…he’s been loyal to Ilvriss, but if I had to guess—he’s from Salazsar’s army.”

“City spying on us. That’s fine. Excellent work, Xesci. Keep us apprised.”

Nerul was complacent, taking it as a matter of course. But Ilvriss went on, telling the others the plan.

“We are after any Walled City we can find, and I know several. People, I was honored to be picked by Sserys. Perhaps it was speaking with Zel Shivertail that gave me this great task, but I will try to be worthy of it. We will be as careful, secret, and diplomatic as possible, hence Nerul’s presence.”

“That’s right! No war, no issues! We can’t boulder our way into the north. I’ll be having a word about your conduct, people. Functionally, I give orders when it comes to diplomacy, and everyone, everyone listens, or I feed you to Crelers!”

Nerul shouted jovially, and Ilvriss nodded. Then he took a breath as the others leaned in.

“So you know, our target is to reach any Walled City we can, in theory. Most are buried or otherwise lost. Yet our specific target, the one we are after is…Grunvel, the City of Pacts.”

The only city built with Dwarven involvement. Gasp. Murmur. Surprise even from Vendoramt. Excitement, genuine, from him.

Lie.

The lie was on Ilvriss, a determined, icy lie founded on willpower and colder than the snow blowing around them. Xesci snuggled more into her coat and grew another layer of fur as she knew that he was lying.

They were not going to Grunvel, or rather, that was not the primary objective. But the thing was—it was a very useful lie because it told Salazsar and everyone else what they intended, but threw them off the scent if they wanted to interfere.

Their real goal was another Walled City entirely. Ilvriss had inspected the ones in the north, and of the ones he knew, the ones Sserys claimed were even remotely intact, there was only one he wanted.

Aside from, say, Mershi, which everyone was looking for, Ilvriss was after Naamreles. The City of Purity.

A very odd name for a Walled City, but according to every book that Ilvriss had pulled—it would have what he wanted. Namely—the artifacts of a city so obsessed with purity and refinement of all things that it had made treasures and sealed its doom by the same obsession that had turned into mania.

Among other things, tools and old methods of making high-quality ores and whatnot. But also—

Ways of purifying death magic. Death-bane weapons. Of all the Walled Cities, it was apparently Naamreles that had helped throw back the Putrid One in its time. That was as good a voucher as any that it had what Ilvriss needed.

 

——

 

Getting to Pallass by nightfall meant everyone was stiff, cold, and tired when the Day Strategist approved their landing and they were allowed to land.

However, it was a thirty-minute inspection of everything they had by Pallass’ Watch, and it was thorough and complicated…mostly by Xesci.

“High-level civilian. Passport?”

She handed it over as a suspicious [Guard] realized she was more than she let on. Nothing would do but they search her gear, but the real problem was when she forgot what she looked like.

“…You look nothing like your passport.”

“Can I see the picture?”

She made the mistake of shape-shifting her face to match, and when the [Guards] realized what she was doing, they called Salazsar to confirm she was who she said she was…and no one could prove that.

In the end, Ilvriss had to demand they let her into the city by threatening a diplomatic incident. Nerul got them in more efficaciously by suggesting that the Watch bypass her shape-shifting face and fingerprint and take a sample of her scales.

Xesci went along with it, even letting them take a blood-sample over Ilvriss’ objections. When he stormed off, she whispered.

“Don’t worry. I can change all three.”

He gave her an astonished look. Xesci then grew uncomfortable and looked around. It was cold, they were all tired, and the 9th Floor of Pallass was dark. While the city below was lit up, she just wanted a bed.

“Where to, Wall Lord?”

“Liscor. We’d better not have trouble with that door. We’re expected.”

At half past midnight, the group finally made it to the door to Liscor…only to realize that the door was closed.

Ilvriss tried it a few times, but it was dead. He stood there until a very sleepy and glaring Gnoll appeared.

“…whuzzha. You Ilvriss?”

“Wall Lord Ilvriss is expected by—”

“Shutblrr. Get in.”

Liska was sleepy, grumpy, and glared as she looked at the group she’d had to wait for all night. Ilvriss took a breath.

“Best behavior, everyone. Welsca, remember. Erin is an esteemed friend and a necessary ally.”

He turned to the female Drake, who had a history with Erin, and she blushed. Ilvriss turned back to Liska, and Xesci saw him smile. His mood, tired as he was, lightened. He was determined to make this return to Liscor go well, and he remembered all his old failures as old Ilvriss.

The new Wall Lord? He put a claw in his pocket and filled the cup by the door with silver and gold coins for the entire group. Then he placed something on the table as he strode through. Liska peered down and instantly sat up, and a good mood appeared.

“Wh—thank you! Is that for me?”

“Yes it is. A tip. Thank you, Miss….?”

“Liska.”

“Liska. I’m sure we’ll be making use of your services, and this is for any inconvenience—tonight.”

The gold coin was minted in Salazsar and fatter and heavier than some you could find in the north. Liska slid it into her belt pouch and actually got up.

“Let me show you into your inn. Do you have luggage? You can carry it right in…your rooms are ready, and you’re the last person in tonight. There’s also the beach, but there’s no villas available.”

“A…beach?”

Ilvriss had not been watching the news while his father was engaging Fissival. He trotted into the inn after Liska, and Xesci eyed the girl.

Turnscale.

She could tell. It wasn’t as if she could sense Turnscales directly. But she knew people, and Liska was obvious as she focused on Xesci, who looked like a Gnoll woman, and had zero interest in Ilvriss or male Gnolls in general.

The part about her being interested in Drakes and Gnolls wasn’t noteworthy. Most Drakes had a private interest in Gnolls even if they publicly said they were ‘only interested in other Drakes’. In fact, the ones who shouted that the loudest were the most likely to visit a brothel.

Xesci felt uncomfortable, though, as she followed Liska down the hallway. And she couldn’t place it until Nerul swore.

“Nephew, my scales are jumping. Is this normal, or are we not walking through a killzone?”

He’d spotted the hallway and did not like it. Ilvriss half-turned.

“Just don’t make her mad, Uncle. Is she awake?”

Xesci muttered to Osthia.

“That’s not the only thing in this inn that’s scary. I sense a [Rogue]. Shriekblade’s watching us.”

Both Nerul and Osthia spun. Xesci couldn’t tell them where, but she remembered the prickle of a Face in the area. And if she recognized them, they always recognized her.

But there was something else in this inn that made Xesci’s fur itch. It was like the inn itself was breathing, like it was watching her. It took her a second to realize she was walking through a gigantic aura, vast, perhaps weaker than a focused one, but covering this entire domain.

Erin Solstice was in the common room of the inn by the time Ilvriss walked in. Xesci heard her voice.

“Ilvriss! You made it without those Pallassian jerks!”

“Erin. Were you waiting for us? I’m sorry we were so late—”

“Nah, nah. I was up for entirely other reasons. Like, uh…hey, I know you. You’re that bath-Drake! Welcome. I guess. And this is…”

“Captain Shieldscale. And my Uncle, Nerul, and this is Xesci…”

She realized she was a Drake, plain-faced, the most innocuous she could be, and Liska jumped as she stared at Xesci, expecting a Gnoll. The [Courtesan] couldn’t say why, but she was suddenly trying to be bland as could be. Like when she’d met Larracel the Haven. Ilvriss moved aside, and she saw a young woman with brown hair, hazel eyes—

The two locked gazes, and both recoiled instantly. Erin stumbled back into a table, and Xesci flinched and hid behind Nerul. Erin spoke.

“Wh—who are you?”

And Xesci stared at Erin.

“Who are you?”

Neither one could get a lock on the other. Xesci had met people like that before, Belavierr, high-level individuals she couldn’t ‘read’ as naturally. She was used to that, but she had never met someone like Erin.

At the same time, Erin had no idea who Xesci was. It felt like she had turned—and a mirror had appeared in her inn. A mirror that had legs, a face, and smiled and waved. A mirror of a woman.

And imagine if you found a random mirror in the common room of your inn, a full-sized one. That was weird—but imagine if it talked and pretended to be a person?

Unnerving to Erin, who caught a flash of Xesci. But Xesci? She peeked at Erin as Ilvriss tried to explain her class, thinking that was the issue.

And Xesci was instantly, utterly, and forever fascinated by Erin. Until she figured the [Innkeeper] out—she had to be here.

Because almost no one had ever been immune to Xesci’s power. Cirediel and Rafaema had been unsettling outliers that made her wonder if they were even real. The only people who had ever bypassed her were monsters like Belavierr—and even then she’d felt something—Golems, and monsters.

Erin Solstice was no exception. ‘Saliss’ was no exception. She had met Djinni and old monsters hiding in plain sight, and she had once seen a Unicorn pretending to be a man, full of apathetic pride and lost nobility, buying kegs of liquor.

In Erin Solstice, Xesci could sense her emotions and interests, likes and dislikes. The unnerved feeling of the [Innkeeper] was clear to her.

Everything else? Everything else was hidden behind a wall in a box, concealed within a maze of crazy funhouse mirrors that was in a [Darkness] spell, and the maze had [Combat Butlers] who kicked the shit out of you every step you took.

She hid—everything. But she wasn’t perfect, and part of the reason Erin hid behind Ilvriss was because the two were staring each other down, trying to find the other first—and Xesci had more practice than Erin.

Ilvriss was much bemused by Erin’s sudden nerves around Xesci, and the [Innkeeper] pointed upstairs as she hid behind Ishkr, who had appeared.

“You’ve all got rooms. You’re welcome guests! Uh…talk to you tomorrow? I’ll even give you a beach if you want to stay.”

“We’ll want to get to work right away securing access to the north. If we could meet with some of the nobility—tomorrow. Thank you, Erin. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

Ilvriss beamed, and everyone headed upstairs. Erin stopped as Xesci passed by, and the Drake slowed.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you, Miss Erin? I’ll try to be an unobtrusive guest.”

“Y—no. Who are you?”

“A high-level [Courtesan] hired by Wall Lord Ilvriss. To help him with his great task.”

Xesci tilted her head, brushing at her hair, and smiled. Erin backed up a step.

“Stop it. Who are you?”

“Xesci.”

Erin raised a fist, and the [Courtesan] flinched—then realized she had skin, not scales. Hair…she raised her hands and felt at her face. Then she pulled out a hand-mirror she always carried and saw—

Erin Solstice stared at Erin Solstice. Xesci instantly changed to another form.

“I’m so sorry—”

“What happened to you?”

Erin whispered, and Xesci froze. That was not the response she’d expected. Indignation, outrage, fear—she looked up, and the [Innkeeper] looked straight at that mirror of a woman.

“—Nothing.”

This time, Xesci fled first, upstairs. She locked herself in her room, snatching the key from Ishkr, and stood, back to the wall, heart beating faster than it had upon seeing Ilvriss’ charge at the Meeting of Tribes. She slowly slid down—and realized she was smiling. She felt at her face, and a huge smile was on her lips.

So interesting. Who was she? Who did she love? What was that young woman? More than someone from another world. She wanted to talk to Erin, and the [Innkeeper] was as fascinated and disturbed by Xesci.

That was it. Neither one was completely at ease around the other. So Xesci lay back in bed—until she heard Ilvriss shouting. When she opened the door, he was rushing out of his rooms as a giant beaver crawled out from under his bed, sleepy. Xesci slowly closed the door with a laugh.

 

——

 

It felt like a holiday. Ilvriss returning, that was.

The moment Mrsha came downstairs and saw the funny purple Drake, she raced over, and he guarded his plate.

“Watch her. She steals food and plays pranks.”

He was giving advice to the other newcomers, as seriously as if he were a [Safety Inspector] at the mines. Nerul stared at Mrsha, and the white Gnoll girl stood on her two feet with a kilt and looked hurt at the suggestion she was a food-thief.

I have not done that in ages, Wall Lord Ilvriss. This is scurrilous libel. No, wait, it’s slander if you say it. Hello! What took you so long to come back?

Ilvriss was not up to date on Mrsha’s writing. He might have known she could do it, but he gave her a refreshingly goggle-eyed look.

“What penmanship. Young lady, have you ever considered a career as a [Diplomat]? The pique, the outrage, and the eloquence behind the barefaced lies…the world needs fewer people like us, but you could join our number and go far.”

Nerul was agog over the writing itself. Mrsha peeked up at the huge Drake and his twinkling eyes and decoded what he was saying versus how he said it. And she decided she liked him already.

“Hello, uh, Mrsha. Do you remember me?”

Osthia Blackwing didn’t have the exact same awful dye job on her scales, but Mrsha recognized the smell. She awkwardly held out a sausage link on a fork. Mrsha stared at it and turned away.

The meeting put a smile on Ilvriss’ lips, despite the sudden sense that the inn had changed markedly from his time here. He looked around, and a Hobgoblin was coming downstairs, yawning.

“Oh. Hey, Ilvriss.”

Nerul, the other Drakes new to Liscor, and a nondescript Drake that Mrsha hadn’t noticed until now all froze at the sight of the Hobgoblin. But Ilvriss just gave him a slow nod.

“Numbtongue. You’re looking well. Do you still have that Dragonblood crystal sword?”

“It’s got a few cracks. But yeah. You staying here?”

They were having breakfast, and despite his recalcitrance at first, Numbtongue and Ilvriss soon warmed to each other’s presence. They had been at odds for a long time, but the Hobgoblin still carried his ‘people-voucher’ that Ilvriss had helped make.

The inn really had changed, though. Numbtongue stood there, pouring himself a huge cup of orange juice, looking a distinctly darker shade of green than Ilvriss remembered. He was also bare-chested and wearing only swimming shorts, which was objectionable to some of Ilvriss’ company on its own merit.

Xesci kept staring at Numbtongue as Mrsha sniffed at her. She smelled like…well, a plain woman with the faint odors of the street on her.

Strange. Because Ilvriss and his entire company smelled like Pegasi, Pallass’ more alchemical odor mixed with the forge-scent, and even further and wilder places. Xesci? Nothing.

“We’re staying here or in Liscor. Many more Drakes and Gnolls will be arriving. Are you also a…beach person? I have to see that. Is Erin awake? Oh, and before you leave, I have a small gift for you and a few others.”

Numbtongue shrugged as Mrsha got instantly distracted. Gift? Was Ilvriss going to redeem himself for being gone with something fun? The [Bard] glanced at the stairs as he sipped from his cup, then tried to grab a bowl of fruits that was breakfast. He instantly got a kick from Peggy that made his eyes water.

“Ow. No, she’s asleep. Stayed up to talk to you. She sleeps in these days. I could show you the beach, though. It’s there.”

Ilvriss glanced at the open door to the beach. The [Garden of Sanctuary] itself had been wildly upgraded, but if Mrsha recalled right…he was a pre-garden visitor, really. Not that he’d been here all the time back in the day.

Chasing Ryoka to Liscor and sitting there for months, fighting with Zel before slowly becoming a trusted friend…he stared at the open door set into the wall.

“That’s new.”

Mrsha realized that Ilvriss hadn’t seen the garden. Heck, he hadn’t even seen…the statues. Her face fell, and she backed up a few steps then almost ran away.

Erin-level sadness incoming! I don’t want to cry today! She turned, and a girl peeking at Ilvriss shyly whispered at her.

“Mrsha, is that the Wall Lord that Erin talked about? Introduce me!”

Nanette Weishart was shy around Ilvriss, because her mother and she had been mostly confined to the north. And even then, she had never met Lords of the Walls since Califor had gone where she was needed and useful.

Mrsha, ready to run the moment she saw Erin or heard anyone invite Ilvriss into the garden, edged forwards and waved.

Ilvriss, this is Nanette, my best friend and a former [Witch]. She’s part of the inn family, so be nice.

“Hello, Miss Nanette. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She took Ilvriss’ claw and shook it as he stood slightly, blinking at her. To Nanette, Ilvriss seemed like an upgraded [Merchant]. Not in a bad way, but he was a handshaking, semi-formal person. Still more personable than Human nobility.

He was also on his best behavior, so she didn’t have Mrsha’s experience with the snooty Lord of the Walls insisting that Drake food was better. In fact, Ilvriss was arguably being a bit bland because he was trying so hard to redo his first impression.

He stood there as his company ate the fruit breakfast with omelets that was being served to the tanned and lightly dressed group. They were all mystified why everyone seemed so happy in the cold and snowy Liscor outside, but no one was leaving.

In fact, there were a lot of people coming in…and only a few people coming out of the beach door. Ilvriss really wanted to see this thing for himself—but he wanted to meet Erin. He was smiling, shaking hands, and doing more brownnosing than Nerul had ever seen his nephew do in his life.

“Ilvriss, there’s a line between being pleasant and being overly friendly, and we’re crossing it.”

“Hush, Uncle. I went the other way last time.”

“Overcorrecting isn’t a virtue.”

The [Diplomat] was advising Ilvriss on his presence, and Ilvriss hesitated. But he was keenly aware how many new guests of Erin there were. So he hesitated—then saw someone else coming out the door, ready for another beach-day.

“Hello there! I’m Wall Lord Ilvriss, just from Salazsar. Staying at the inn. And you are?”

He held out a hand, and a man reflexively grabbed it, stiffened, and stared at Ilvriss.

“Lord Tyrion Veltras.”

Tyrion appeared in the doorway with Sammial and Hethon, and Ilvriss froze. The two locked eyes.

Why was he here?

Ilvriss’ smile turned into a rictus.

“You…”

“Salazsar.”

Jericha, Ryoka, Ullim, Sammial, and Hethon all paused behind Ilvriss, and Ryoka groaned.

“Oh no.”

“Lord Tyrion Veltras. Why is the man who besieged Liscor and got Zel Shivertail killed here?”

Ilvriss couldn’t believe how young the other man looked, but his aura was familiar. His claw tightened, and Tyrion stared at him.

“A Wall Lord. I’m not here to fight.”

Tyrion slowly released his grip as Ilvriss forced himself to do the same. His head snapped around, and he stared at Numbtongue.

“Is he a guest of the beach?”

The Hob was about as friendly towards Tyrion as Ilvriss, but he called out.

“Yep. Erin tolerates him and Xitegen.”

“Why would she let—?”

That principled [Innkeeper]? Ilvriss was outraged, but Tyrion strode past him with what amounted to great tact for the [Lord]. He headed for the beach.

“This is neutral ground, Wall Lord. Don’t ruin the beach experience for anyone here. I will not.”

He disappeared into the beach, and Ilvriss’ jaw opened and closed. He almost charged after Tyrion—then stared into the beach. Ilvriss saw the sun, surf, and pleasant weather of another world for the first time. His eyes popped. He stood there, as the surf rushed over his feet, and stared about at the fake sky, the waves, Ekirra running around, and the resort guests trudging their way to breakfast.

“Wh—wh—what’s going on?”

He stood there until Pryde shoved him out of the way and looked around wildly. Then he ran to find Erin Solstice.

 

——

 

“What’s going on, Erin?”

After that scare, Ryoka had rushed off into the beach to keep Tyrion away from the Drakes and had missed Ilvriss’ group. Erin, correspondingly, had woken up and was explaining the situation to Ilvriss.

“I need their help, Ilvriss. I don’t like it, but I let Xitegen use the door—he doesn’t come in here—because I need his help for the Solstice. It’s a huge thing. I haven’t given you an invite yet—”

“You’re letting that monster walk into Liscor? The City Council allowed it?”

Erin paused as Ilvriss purpled further with fury. He was off his pleasant, welcoming demeanor in record time.

“They’ve got to. He’s one of the Five Families—”

“Where’s their civic pride? Ban the bastard! He sieged their city—if he wants in, levy a hundred thousand gold fine! A thousand gold for every citizen who perished!”

Ilvriss’ fist slammed onto the table, and Erin recoiled.

“Ilvriss.”

“There’s also Lord Xitegen? Lady Bethal, Lady Pryde? Are they trying to take over this inn? And what is this…garden? You have access to a dimensional space? I heard something about it, but this? And they’re using it as a beach?”

“Ilvriss, a lot’s changed—”

Ilvriss was tearing at his neck-spines.

“I don’t understand it. Are they threatening you? How much are they paying for—and a beach? If you can configure this garden-thing—I heard it was an actual garden, not a beach—it’s so tacky and tasteless. Just like northern nobility to insist on, really.”

Erin had been trying to get a word in edgewise, but now her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Hah? Tacky?”

Lyonette was greeting Nerul and the guests and explaining the rest of the inn’s facilities. She groaned as Ilvriss, thoughtlessly, kept ranting.

“It’s just sand and water and, frankly, those ‘resorts’ look like someone cast [Sand Wall] a bunch of times and threw furniture inside. It’s not even an impressive beach. I’ve seen beautiful coastal retreats on Fissival’s coast, and Zeres has the entire market on waterfronts, obviously. You can do more with the space. Not that I’d expect them to.”

“Like what?”

Erin was smiling dangerously, and she was recalling one of Ilvriss’ main traits. Snobbery. She was so glad to see him—which was why she wasn’t going to snap. She wasn’t going to—

He clicked his claws together.

“Well, a waterfall? A meditative walkway—submerged stones in a lake? If you have to invoke the ocean, cliff-diving is a hugely popular tradition. Not just the villa experience—if they’re going to insist on the most basic staff and seaside accommodations, you might consider live-fishing, Erin. Or yachting if there was more space. I did that once, and you can buy these lovely enchantments and hire a Drowned Person to take you for an underwater stroll. Just basic, basic…”

He was speaking so enthusiastically and with such pomposity that he completely missed Erin’s expression until he looked down and saw the huge glower on her face. Ilvriss paused…and Xesci peeked out from behind Nerul again with a smile of delight.

She was angry. That was obvious. Hurt feelings radiated from the [Innkeeper], as well as pure embarrassment because Ilvriss was right. Ilvriss’ self-absorbed rant turned into a moment of introspection, and he hesitated. Then coughed into one fist as Mrsha slapped her forehead with a paw.

“Ah. You made the beach, didn’t you?”

He came to the truth as Erin folded her arms. Ilvriss wavered as his attempt at a new start and new line of social credit took a nosedive. He paused…and decided that Nerul was right. If you were going to try again—

“You could have consulted with me. I do know beaches, you know.”

Erin kicked him in the shins. Ilvriss swore, leaping back.

“Erin!”

“I’m regretting having you back already! Everyone loves my beach!”

“I’m sorry! I just meant—you still have Tyrion Veltras there.”

“It’s the greatest winter attraction there was and ever will be!”

The Drake backed up, but his mouth was moving faster now, and Nerul was laughing so hard he couldn’t interject. He had never seen this side of his nephew! Worse—Ilvriss was getting mad now.

“It’s not even winter-themed, Erin! This is just a denial of the season. Real winter experience would be making snow igloos, winter bonfires, snow lights—saunas—which I forget that you have no idea what they are.”

“I know what saunas are, you snooty idiot! My ideas are great!”

“They’re contrarian! Don’t kick me again! You offer a unique service, but I’m allowed to point out when it’s unimaginitive—”

“I created a beach in the winter!”

Erin was chasing him about, and the Drake ran past Silveran, Pawn, Ser Dalimont—all staring at the new guests—and they watched the Drake have it out with Erin.

What a brave, dead man. Even Jewel was watching with Normen, wincing and expecting Erin to roll Ilvriss in a second. But Ilvriss paused, turned, and his clawed finger pointed back at Erin.

“And you can do better! I’ve seen you work harder. The Erin Solstice I knew didn’t rest on her laurels!”

He got her! Lyonette gasped in delight. Erin came to a halt, slowing, and several heads turned as Ilvriss paused—and she turned.

“W—you—why don’t you shoot me in the chest with a crossbow, huh? I let you into my inn, I vouch for you, and this is what I get?”

Erin was red-faced, embarrassed, and instantly, Ilvriss’ face stiffened. Xesci saw half the inn freeze or wince—and Erin had made that comment on purpose.

Ruthless at times. Nerul himself just eyed Erin and nodded.

“The Courtly Fool. She’s also got knives. Delightful. She’d do the Winebreath Blaster in someone’s face on purpose.”

He rubbed his claws together, and Erin seemed to realize two of Ilvriss’ companions knew exactly what she was doing. She locked eyes with Xesci, then nearly edged back. She halted, threw up her hands, and smiled gregariously.

“Ilvriss. Why are we fighting? You said words you’ll regret, I said words I don’t—come on, let me show you around the inn first before you start critiquing.”

“I, ah—yes. That would be good. I apologize, Erin.”

She nodded to Ilvriss and distinctly didn’t apologize back. Erin stepped back and gestured to the kitchen.

“Listen, you’ll like my inn these days. I have a [Chef]—a Goblin guy who does amazing spices—and Imani’s cooking gets served in my inn all the time. It’s classy. You’ve met Nanette—well, just wait until you see the rec room, workout room, and other stuff! Plus—the beach isn’t done, obviously. I have a bunch of koi fish, and if I make it freshwater, not saltwater, we could definitely fish. Plus, I was always going to do a luau. We’re doing one tonight.”

“We are?”

Lyonette looked horrified, and Erin shot her a glare as Ilvriss raised his brows. Erin instantly upped the ante.

“Yeah, a luau. And we’re, uh—I’ll make a sandbar, and you can walk into the water! Waterfalls? I can do that, too. By the way, what did you bring, Ilvriss? For your fancy expedition into the north?”

His what? Some of the guests, including Bethal and Thomast, who’d been enjoying the argument from afar, paused as they ate breakfast. Ilvriss hesitated and crossed his arms.

“A bidet, for one.”

“A bidet. Pssh. No one likes that thing. Hey, Mrsha, guess what Ilvriss bought? A bidet.”

A what?

Mrsha was just as skeptical as Erin, but one person in the inn had frozen mid-bite and looked up with hope and salvation in his eyes. There was only one, just one person who knew what a bidet was outside of Drakes like Grimalkin and Chaldion. Pallass didn’t have bidet-customs.

“It’s this thing you use to wash your—butt. It sprays water. Gross, right?”

Half the guests took a second to realize what Erin meant, and this was not a breakfast-topic. Mrsha half-nodded, hesitated, and raised a paw.

Wait, it isn’t toilet paper?

“Nope.”

The Gnoll girl hesitated. The furry Gnoll girl thought about toilet paper and the grossness of it.

So it’s clean water that you use instead of gross paper you wipe everywhere? Like a civilized being I have never been before?

“Y—no. No, Mrsha. You’re getting the wrong idea. Bidets are weird.”

“Bidets are civilized. That Drake’s got a bidet? At last, someone with fucking class.”

The voice of support and Ilvriss’ first new friend in Liscor came from none other than the one person who was used to them.

Joseph. From Spain. A nation that practiced the variety in bathroom fixtures that were lacking in the United States.

The United States, a nation that was founded about two and a half hundred years ago and hadn’t had running water in its toilets for a hundred years, probably. Erin Solstice began to realize she was losing her audience.

Gnolls had fur. Fur was difficult to clean. Bidets were another, natural way of cleaning.

“But spraying water?”

Selys called out from the side, looking exasperated at Erin’s logical inconsistency. Which was sort of Erin, to be fair.

“Erin, do you not shower or bathe?”

“Yes, but that’s so gross—”

Ulvama poked her as she emerged from her rec room where she’d been napping.

“Grosser than using paper or leaves on butt? You’re weird. You sound like an old woman afraid of new things.”

“Ulvama, you too? Someone back me up!”

“I won’t. Humans are so pretentious. How do you think Centaurs do anything? Bidets are customary in Baleros.”

And in came Palt with the final blow! Which actually cleared up a question Erin had had about his own bathroom habits. She turned to him, and the Centaur was already talking with one of Ilvriss’ people.

“So you actually have one? Is it one of those fancy enchanted ones that doesn’t require plumbing? I’d make one, but I have no idea how to start, and Hedault refuses to make toilet-based things…mostly because he’d have to install and maintain them. Liscor’s got sewers and plumbing. We’ll pay for one at Barehoof Kitchens. I’ll pay for one. I’ll install it now. Please give me a bidet. I’ve had to use water spells for a year.”

Erin threw up her hands. And Ilvriss, smiling, adjusted his lapel. Someone had to bring back culture and finesse to The Wandering Inn. Or at least remind Erin when it was lacking.

Nerul Gemscale was observing Erin’s exasperated face, how she argued with her merry guests, and taking notes on the scale of the inn’s occupants. Ilvriss hadn’t mentioned the nobility or the high-level people. He had clearly not kept up with the inn’s rising prominence.

He leaned over to Osthia and whispered.

“I think we’ve been made by the nobility. Not good. I’d have preferred some jump time on them. My nephew’s got a fun relationship with Miss Solstice. I think my role is to be the professional, sadly. What a changeup.”

He was eying Bethal, who had slipped outside, and Osthia realized the games had already begun. Ilvriss, though…he was smiling as he began to argue with Erin over which was actually more objectively disgusting as a hygienic practice. The [Innkeeper] was annoyed, exasperated, secretly amused, and happy he had come back.

 

——

 

Xesci saw it all. She saw how Erin dropped her guard, and some of the walls fell only for Ilvriss. And how Ilvriss seemed to look younger, forget he was Zail’s son—

Yes, of course. He was outside of Salazsar. This was his adventure where the Wall Lord was still a Wall Lord, but no one knew what he was supposed to be. She was delighted by this insight, but again—

The [Courtesan of Change] had forgotten that when she observed, the [Innkeeper] noticed. Erin Solstice’s eyes slid sideways, and she noticed Xesci and stopped laughing a second.

The Drake politely ducked her head at Erin, trying to look normal and innocent. However, Erin was not the only person to have picked up on a shark swimming in Ilvriss’ wake.

Mrsha was mostly oblivious, just picking up on the smell, and she’d forgotten about Xesci as the Drake had intended. But Nanette looked sideways at Xesci and dipped her head as she noticed the Drake was holding an empty bowl with no idea what to do.

“Would you like more food, Miss…? Someone can take your dishes.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Xesci was not used to being waited on, but Nanette took it aside. Lyonette hurried over to Ilvriss and whispered as he engaged in the bidet debate. She’d gotten a list of his guests, and Xesci…

“Er, Ilvriss. About your companions. Is she an, ah—ah—a lady of the night? Really?”

Ilvriss hesitated at the wording, but nodded back and murmured.

“Miss Xesci? She is. An expert in—well, she’s a trusted friend and associate.”

Lyonette’s welcoming face became markedly worried. She glanced at Nanette, then practically dashed over.

“I can handle that, Nanette. Hello, Miss—”

She rushed to handle the dishes, or rather, let Dame Ushar take them for her, and Xesci’s smile markedly vanished as she noticed the [Princess]’ attitude change. Xesci didn’t hear what Lyonette said as she tugged Nanette and Mrsha away, but she just read the [Princess]’ lips.

“Stay away from that Drake, Mrsha, Nanette. She might be a bit…sick.”

Mrsha was confused. Nanette frowned at Lyonette and glanced at Xesci.

Sick? With Yellow Rivers?

Mrsha held up a card, and Nanette shook her head.

“No, she’s a prostitute, Mrsha. Miss Lyonette, she’s not sick because she works in that field. My mother knew plenty of women like that who were well. Soldiers and adventurers get sicker with parasites and illnesses in the field.”

“Nanette! That’s not something you talk about in polite company!”

“It’s hardly impolite.”

The witch girl frowned up at Lyonette as the Thronebearers gave her appalled looks. Well, except for Ser Dalimont. He had paused like the other Calanferian [Knights] in instinctual distaste, but he was thinking and listening to Nanette. Frowning at his frown.

Lyonette was not. Mrsha, by contrast, grew interested in Xesci now that she was told that the Drake was someone working a ‘bad’ profession and she shouldn’t be spoken with.

Lyonette’s dislike of Xesci was not unique to Calanfer; plenty of people would have shared her views. She was pulling the classic Self-Inflicted Footshot Maneuver that all parents used, in the Nerul handbook of diplomatic mishaps.

Actually, Erin Solstice herself might have had similar views of Xesci, but for two things: she had met many ghosts in death, of every class. Second? She recognized Xesci’s level before her profession, and Xesci herself—unnerved Erin.

Whether this was fair or unfair, it should have been a small, tiny part of Ilvriss’ visit. Already, the nobility were sitting up and taking notice. Ironically, it was one thing for them to swan into a Drake city. But the notion that a Drake had come to head into their lands?

Something was brewing, and it was coming fast, spreading at the speed of [Message] spells. It was about that, like one of the [Spies] alerting Lord Xitegen that Wall Lord Ilvriss was speaking of heading to the north.

It should have passed Xesci by, especially with her Skills. The Knights of Solstice, Grimalkin, and most of the nobility, even Chaldion of Pallass, heading into the beach, had lost track of her.

As they always did. She was enjoying this play and counterplay of watching how Erin shifted, putting up her shields and only lowering them around her friends. Her guard was like a [Fencer]’s; if it went down, she brought it up the moment she realized it had lowered. It was more instinctual for it to be up than down.

Xesci, for her part, wore the faces of women she had known. Drakes, Gnolls, and even Humans and more—but she was good about shifting from face to face that were similar, mostly.

Where she unconsciously seemed taller when she wanted to be, or more attractive or vivacious when she wanted attention or to persuade, she didn’t visibly shift from Gnoll to Drake unless she was surprised or doing it on purpose. Her taking Erin’s face had been a complete accident.

Ryoka Griffin strode back into the inn, pausing when she saw Ilvriss, as Xesci eyed Erin.

I could copy her face, but not really anything else. The [Courtesan] benefitted the more she understood someone. Not that she could absorb Skills, but she did take competency.

Erin was surprisingly good at fighting. She was a thinker and definitely good at chess. Everyone had a weakness, though, and hers was definitely a thin side to her interpersonal skills. She was good at talking to people, seeing them, getting to know them. Bad at when she had to reach out and touch someone in any intimate way.

So fascinating. But who did she love? Xesci ran her hand over an opaque wall of glass and couldn’t tell if the answer was ‘no one’, ‘herself’, or someone at all. She’d met closed people like that before, but even Turnscales just shone brightly behind a wall of fear and self-preservation.

She refused to burn, and that made it far more difficult and far more intriguing. Ryoka was striding over to greet Ilvriss, a smile on her face and an apology on her lips for Tyrion’s…everything.

Then she screamed.

The shriek was loud, visceral, and filled with fear. It came from Xesci’s right as the Wind Runner passed by. It made every warrior reach for a blade instantly. It was the sound beyond someone stubbing a toe or getting surprised.

It was the sound someone made when they saw something horrifying. Few people had ever heard a sound like that coming from Ryoka’s mouth. Ryoka couldn’t remember—she leapt back, crashed into a table, and tried to climb it. Trying to get away from—

Xesci. The [Courtesan] realized the Wind Runner was looking at her.

She instantly changed, growing more bland, more innocent, an older, friendly Drake lady. But the Wind Runner’s face was white.

“Wh—wh—”

She had drawn her Faeblade out, and the glowing pink blade burned into the inn in front of Ryoka as she held it in front of her. Erin whirled—

“Ryoka?”

“What is that?”

Ryoka swept the blade back and forth, looking at Xesci, then around at the alarmed people. She hesitated, took the blade in both hands, and aimed it—

“Xesci? Miss Griffin, what are you doing?”

Ilvriss turned, and Ryoka stared at him.

“Wh—”

“Ryoka? What’s wrong?”

The Wind Runner flinched as Xesci got up. The Drake smiled, feeling a sudden nervousness.

“Is something wrong, Miss…?”

She stepped forwards, and Ryoka retreated, her jade green eyes were wide with a terror that no one else had.

No one…except a green faerie, who had frozen on the way into the common room of the inn. Shaestrel stared at Xesci, and a disturbed look crossed her face. She flew to Ryoka, squinted, and kicked her in the ear.

 

“Stop staring. Look less closely.”

 

“Look less—”

Ryoka hadn’t been breathing. She stared at Xesci, and her perception…changed. Then she unfroze and began to breathe again. But she still seemed unnerved.

“Who—”

Ryoka backed away as Xesci tried to make herself even more normal and unassuming. She smiled, desperately, wondering why the Wind Runner was so horrified and feeling nervous herself. But Ryoka just backed away as Erin scolded her. But none of them could see—Ryoka Griffin looked even at Chaldion, who adjusted one eye suspiciously. At Erin—at Grimalkin? Ilvriss himself?

No one saw it? It was only the fae. The fae and Ryoka, who saw straight through the artifice of the world if they wanted to. No matter what Xesci tried, Ryoka backed up and refused to take her hand, despite the fuss. That fear—was so genuine that Xesci ended up retreating rather than draw more attention.

Ryoka didn’t want to tell anyone in the open. She played it off as Xesci sat, listening to her laugh and accept Erin’s apologies and behave like, well, a normal, nervous woman. High-level? On Ilvriss’ side?

Ryoka didn’t know. It didn’t matter. She saw what she saw.

Xesci…had no face. Ryoka didn’t see a Drake. She saw something that would have fit in that ruined city in the Lands of the Fae. A humanoid being of flesh, without face or features, sitting amidst all the other people. A disruption in reality. Like one of those disturbing paintings—the ‘skin’ a twisted, blended version of scale, flesh, and fur.

Like a more perfect version of the thing in the High Passes. That was why Ryoka had been terrified and was unnerved to see Xesci just sitting there until she turned off her vision and saw what Xesci ‘looked like’.

Her class had eaten her shape.

 

——

 

Apropos of nothing at all, Lord Xitegen of House Terland glanced up from his conversation with one of the inn’s spies. He was sitting in Celum, scoping out where new buildings would have to be laid and eying the walls and wondering if he could just move them out. He turned from having his Golem servants pour him a cup of tea and addressed the nondescript [Spy] wearing winter gear.

“And he wants to head into the north? A Wall Lord of Salazsar. The same one who was at Liscor before, yes? And was there when Tyrion besieged the city.”

“Yes, Wall Lord. Ilvriss of Salazsar.”

Xitegen drummed his fingers on the table.

“More trouble.”

He glanced up and frowned into the crowd a second. It was miserable and cold, but Celum still had people on the roads who had to work. Heating spells. He’d have to pour a lot of money into this place to get it up to standard. Celum had never had a sovereign [Lord], and they didn’t know they should expect more. But had he seen…? Xitegen hesitated, then shook his head and returned to the task at hand.

“I thought I heard something about Salazsar recently. I need a report on that and everything this ‘Ilvriss’ has done. Oh—and one more thing.”

The [Spy], grateful for all this work, was about to head to his Invrisil informant and collect an information package from ‘Bloody Secrets’, who did a reasonable and fast rate. When she was in office. He’d heard she had a new part-time job. He paused and looked up.

“Yes, Lord Xitegen?”

“This isn’t a request, but you did see Ryoka Griffin in the inn, didn’t you?”

“She was there with Lord Tyrion at the altercation.”

Xitegen relaxed and stopped peering into the crowd.

“Oh, very good. Nevermind, then.”

He turned away. He thought he’d seen Ryoka Griffin around here. But he was staring at the door to Liscor, so unless she’d flown in…no.

It must have just been his imagination.

 

——

 

Trouble came for Wall Lord Ilvriss by the end of his first day in Liscor. He was setting up with his staff as they refamiliarized themselves at the inn, and he was having a tropical fruit drink in the admittedly pleasant beach when someone walked in.

“Miss Solstice—oh, there you are, Ryoka. Miss Solstice, I am not here to cause trouble. I’m doing you a favor, so I would appreciate you letting me speak. I am trying to avoid trouble.”

Lord Xitegen said that. But he strode into the beach, looked around at the sand, and sighed.

“So this is what I’d get for getting in bed with the Goblins? Lovely. Pass. Give me a beach world and I’ll think about it before I refuse.”

He stood there as Ilvriss glanced up from drawing up a list of people they’d need to hire locally. Guides and miners and…

“Can I help you?”

“You are Wall Lord Ilvriss of Salazsar, correct? I am Lord Xitegen. Whereupon I bow, or however we do this between north and south.”

The [Lord] gave Ilvriss a slight bow, and the Wall Lord rose. He knew Xitegen, and his clawed hand extended with about as much friendship as he had to Tyrion. Xitegen paused, then shook his hand.

“Charmed.”

“I am delighted to meet one of House Terland’s sons, Lord Xitegen.”

The other [Lord] stared into Ilvriss’ eyes as they sized each other up. About the same, though Ilvriss didn’t like Xitegen’s bracer or his Golems. He didn’t like the feeling he might be outclassed in battle, but he felt like he had the edge in other areas. Then again, this man had survived the Goblin King, so it made sense his Skills geared to war.

“Thank you. Well, I can see we know each other by reputation. I came here as a token of respect, Wall Lord, and despite what Innkeeper Erin Solstice thinks—I do respect her inn and guests enough for what it is to issue a warning.”

“That’s what you said about the Goblins in Riverfarm. And my staff. You want to go for round two, Xitegen? This is my beach.”

Erin Solstice was dangerously unhappy, and Xitegen smiled at her.

“Miss Solstice. We never even danced the first duet. That was just Arcsinger, and with respect to her, it was all proxy. Let’s not start, shall we? And speaking of which—Wall Lord, am I to understand you’ve come to Liscor with the intention of heading north? Doing a bit of exploring? Seeing the north via the magical portal door, taking in the air for your health?”

His voice was overly casual. Ilvriss tried not to let his neck spines rise or tail curl up. He smiled with his teeth, though.

“I did hope to visit the north much like Magnolia Reinhart visited the south, Wall Lord. The door allows you to walk on Drake land. Is this an issue?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely. I came to tell you, like a reasonable gentleman of House Terland, that you should stay clear of anywhere but, say, Invrisil for some light shopping. Any more and I can’t guarantee your safety. And a war is the last thing we need right now.”

Xitegen’s face was smooth, and his words were direct. Ilvriss stiffened, and Erin inhaled, but Ilvriss glanced at her, and she let him talk. The Wall Lord decided to not cross his arms as Xitegen now did, but put his claws behind his back and stood straighter.

“That would appear to be a threat, Lord Terland. Or at least, a rather hypocritical demand.”

Xitegen’s chuckle had no mirth in it. No malice either, not openly, which was interesting. He was just—intent.

“Do as I say, not as I do. Wall Lord, you amuse me so. We’re nobility. We breathe hypocrisy. I am not threatening you myself, you see. Not at this moment. I am telling you—if my peers get wind of you walking around the north openly, I cannot guarantee your safety. So, out of pure self interest, I am warning you off. That goes for your expedition, too, or any body of Drakes who appear in the north.”

Ilvriss’ smile was starting to hurt. And here it began. He’d feared this might happen, but getting a warning to his face was classic humanity. Drakes would be more subtle. Even in Manus.

“And if I persist?”

Xitegen considered the question and tapped his lips.

“Would you…do me the favor of providing a statement in writing that you were here purely of your own accord, and your inevitable demise should not reach Salazsar or bring forth any repercussions from the south and Walled Cities? A certificate of justifiable insanity would do. Otherwise, no, there’s nothing left to say.”

“Xitegen. If you harm him—”

He turned with pure exasperation on his face and shoved both hands into his pockets.

“Miss Solstice. I needn’t even lose sleep over it. Magnolia went to Oteslia, and I thought I’d hear they had her head on a platter within the week. Do you think it’s easy watching a noble march across the border? Invrisil, Pallass, and Liscor are connected by your door and semi-neutral because Pallass and Magnolia play nice. I wouldn’t go for a stroll outside of Pallass. A random, accidental arrow might strike my heart. In the same way, I am reasonably warning Wall Lord Ilvriss that the weather up north is dreadful this time of year. Snow and sleet with a chance of daggers.”

He stood there, and Ilvriss regarded Lord Xitegen. His temper was flaring, but he held it back a second. His father might not have, but Ilvriss cleared his throat as Xitegen turned back.

“Tell me, Lord Xitegen, and I mean this with no rancor—is this a genuine, semi-friendly warning, or am I reading it wrong?”

The Lord of House Terland gave Ilvriss a mystified look and searched him up and down. He replied with a studied frown.

“You may not think I am being so, but I am being reasonable and warning you off, Wall Lord Ilvriss. It is ‘nice’ for a Terland; my dear aunt Ulva and old Petra would have been very offensive to Miss Erin’s sensibilities if they issued a warning at all.”

“So it is a kindly warning.”

“I like to think so.”

Ilvriss almost smiled. He coughed into one fist and nodded.

“Well taken, Lord Terland. Just so you know—if you delivered that to an association of Walled Families in Salazsar, it might be war if you were the son of a Walled City.”

Xitegen Terland’s brows bounced up and down as he blinked at Ilvriss, then he smiled.

“My. You Drakes are touchy. Fair enough. It’d be a feud and assassins in the dark if I said that to a delicate Reinhart at a banquet. I’m trying to avoid more. And I am a blunt man. Forgive me for intruding, Miss Solstice.”

He turned smartly, and Erin glared at him as he began to march back out of her beach. She strode after him as Ilvriss grimaced.

“Xitegen! Are you not hearing me about the Solstice?”

“Miss Erin, I hear you about the Solstice. I heard Miss Griffin loud and clear. New lands. Hypothetical teleporting Seamwalkers. Let’s all join hands against these universal threats. If that line of reasoning worked, we’d never have had strife after the Creler Wars ever again. Ask that Wall Lord why there’s a thousand graves in Lord Gralton’s kennels or Emperor Laken how he feels about all that ashed land around his empire. Tread carefully in the north.”

Then he was gone.

 

——

 

“It appears, Nephew, that the north likes to be open, or Lord Xitegen’s a bit of a renegade who speaks his piece. No wonder he’s gained support. I was hoping to secure private deals through each patch of land we needed to get to our destination, but that was a Drake idea. I’ve reassessed, and the north is going to take pot shots at us and worse all the way to the place—unless we counter it.”

Nerul’s job was diplomacy, and he took Xitegen’s threat very seriously. He was quite put out he’d missed Xitegen, but he could always meet with the [Lord].

Erin was mad. Ilvriss? Thinking.

“We have to do it. Even if I hold back, you and anyone we send will be tarred with the brush of ‘Salazsar’, of ‘Drakes’. I would rather be there to lend my Skills and authority, but we need to hold off from conflicts.”

It could, without exaggeration, start a war. Ilvriss’ death would lead to a conflict between Salazsar and probably all the Walled Cities depending on how it happened.

“You’re not even threatening anything! And they visit my beach! And they’re going to attack you just for coming through?”

“There was that incident with the saboteurs, Erin. And that was after Tyrion sieged Liscor. And the Bloodfields battle every year. And…”

Ryoka wasn’t taking the north’s side, but she was aware of how they had framed it in Reizmelt. She backed down as Erin glared hotly around, and at this point, Nerul addressed Erin directly. He smiled as she looked at him dubiously.

“Miss Solstice, as Salazsar’s top [Diplomat], it’s my policy to believe that if you want to make a deal with the other side in good faith, you have to admit what you’ve done. And we have done it all. They have every right to consider us backstabbing, treacherous murderers with no good intent. The question is: can you or can we provide enough value or good intent to buy ourselves the safety we need? The threat’s been made. If you have a solution, we’ll gladly repay you for any help you can render.”

Amazingly, this focused Erin. Ilvriss gave Nerul a surprised look, but the [Diplomat] was talking straight and without his usual panache for games or silliness.

“What…I have contacts. So does Ryoka. We can talk to them.”

Erin glanced at Ryoka, and the Wind Runner visibly hesitated.

“You know every member of the Five Families, Ryoka. Aside from Wellfar, I guess.”

“I know Etril Wellfar, but—Tyrion’s not going to like Ilvriss going north. You saw how he reacted. Deilan and Ulva? I don’t know if I have that kind of influence with them. They need a reason to let Ilvriss go, Erin.”

“Reason. Reason…I guess telling them what you want to find is a bad idea?”

Ilvriss, Nerul, and the others instantly nodded. Telling the nobles he wanted to reclaim a Walled City’s treasures was a great idea to get them off his back. Then they’d line up in front of him to steal the treasures and then front-stab him to death.

“Something to protect Ilvriss…I mean, if we can’t say what he’s doing…Ryoka, you go be nice to the war-freaks. I’ll go figure out something on my end.”

Erin frowned as Ryoka retreated from Xesci, Nerul, Osthia, Ilvriss, and his group, and Erin wandered off. Ilvriss hoped she had an idea and put his head with his team.

“We may want to tell Alrric not to send as many miners. It sounds like our presence is already agitating—recruiting locals would be better.”

“Trustworthiness is a problem, Wall Lord.”

Osthia pointed out reasonably. Ilvriss scratched at his chin.

“True…but what about locals from this region? Esthelm has a strong [Miner] tradition.”

“Not a bad idea. We’ll have to recruit, but having a bunch of Humans looks better than an entire army of Drake [Miners]. Security is an issue, Nephew. I suggest that while we hope for a windfall, we begin buttering up the people closest to our destination. Let’s prepare some gifts.”

“Will that look like bribes to the nobility?”

Nerul waved this off.

“If they accept, they accept. They can disavow us or give us no favors. A gift is something you give with no strings, Osthia. I just need them to talk, and I’ll do the rest and get it in writing. Leave that to me. The problem is, they don’t want to talk, and Xitegen is actually a weak point.”

“He just threatened Ilvriss’ life.”

Osthia was furious. Nerul raised one brow as he lit a cigar and puffed at it. Then he recoiled as a bee immediately flew into their private room.

“Dead gods. Wait, does that bee have a tiny cigar? This—this is a [Diplomat]’s pet. You float one of these bees into a room, and everyone starts talking first. This inn is a goldmine. Anyways, where was I? Xitegen threatened Ilvriss’ life—the other nobles wouldn’t even give him a warning. Telling someone you’re going to stab them means you’re less likely to do it. In the old days, the implication was that if Ilvriss so much as crossed the border, he’d get an arrow through the face. It didn’t need to be said.”

The Drakes didn’t know if they liked Nerul’s optimism, but the [Diplomat] had the lead here. He had made one huge mistake, though, which he didn’t seem to realize. It wasn’t his fault.

As Apista fanned her wings and Nerul eyed her, Xesci broke in, eager to help.

“Xitegen’s like a wall. He won’t budge for Ilvriss or the Goblins, but he’s not hostile. Tyrion Veltras is.”

Nerul pointed a cigar at her with a smile.

“That is the kind of insight I need. Xesci, I’m considering figuring out a way to get you into our meetings. Gauging who’s even receptive will cut down on my work immensely.”

“If I can help more…”

She looked frustrated, but Ilvriss assured her she could.

“We’ll set up and scope out our properties in Liscor. And we can at least look around in Invrisil today. We’ll want to move fast, but as I said, some of what we’re doing is waiting here for the Solstice…I meant to talk with Erin about that. Osthia, you’ll be with me for that. Xesci, can you and Nerul prepare gifts?”

They nodded, and Ilvriss began telling his adjutants where to go. He had a lot to do, and a lot of it was negotiations and tact.

Nerul was an expert, and he knew he had assets in Ryoka, Erin, and the others that he needed to leverage. He was honest with his allies, open about their goals, and thinking how to be careful and direct and avoid conflict.

He had made one huge, terrible error. Similar to how Mrsha had once trounced Ilvriss in a game of chess, Nerul had opened up a critical flaw in his negotiations.

It wasn’t his fault. He had worked off of his information and observations, but he had made a critical misplay that was going to bite him. And it was this:

He had called on Erin Solstice for help. The problem was that she was well-placed to render help as she saw it—and she didn’t always run things by her friends before she acted. Even with the best will in the world and knowing what she had done—Nerul didn’t think she was this fast.

The sound that ran through the inn was subtle as Ilvriss went to go to Liscor to check on his bought properties. He paused a second, hearing it go through the door, the floor, and air.

Toc.

“What was that?”

“Earthquake? That would be the last thing we need. Does Liscor have earthquakes? It floods like hell.”

Nerul glanced up. Ilvriss hesitated.

“No, I th—”

Toc.

This time, they all heard it. Nerul’s head slowly rose, and he frowned around.

“That…sounds like a Skill. A big one.”

Someone jogged into the room, and Ryoka looked around.

“I felt that. Erin? Shaestrel’s swearing up a storm. Is Erin—”

Ilvriss’ head snapped up, and this time it was louder.

Toc.

“Oh no.”

That came from Nerul. He surged to his feet, eyes opening wide as he realized what was going on too late. He began running, shoulder-charging Ilvriss out of the way.

“Miss Solstice? Erin Solstice, stop! Whatever you’re doing, I need to know. I need to plan—”

He began shouting, and Lyonette, sweeping the floors in the inn, had heard it too. She looked up, saw the [Diplomat] panicking, and whirled.

“She must be—the [World’s Eye Theatre]! I saw her heading there with some paper!”

“Where? Damn!”

He ran. But it was too late. The fourth and final time Erin swung the hammer, she was standing in the center of her theatre, nailing a shining bit of parchment to the air. Ilvriss slowed as Nerul ran, shouting, swearing, and he saw the words lighting up the sky.

Toc.

They pinged every [Innkeeper] and [Guildmaster] in a hundred miles. And the <Quest> ran further still, at the speed of gossip. Everyone in Izril heard about it within the hour.

It became news. Erin Solstice made the news, and this <Quest>? This one was unique. But Nerul just stared up at the glowing words with a waxy, sick face, and Ilvriss looked up too. Erin was smiling—until she saw Nerul’s expression.

“What? Don’t you think it’ll work?”

This is what the quest said:

 

<Heroic Quest – Keep Him Alive: Wall Lord Ilvriss!>

 

Limits: <Noble> class of Izril.

Wall Lord Ilvriss of Salazsar is in the north! This isn’t a big deal. He’s going to be doing business past Liscor, and I’ve been told that’s a ‘problem’. Well, if he survives for half a year—just half a year—you get rewarded. All of you! You don’t have to do a thing, just don’t be jerks.

Seriously, that’s it. That’s the quest! He’s a single Wall Lord of Salazsar, without an army or anything stupid. This is a quest for the nobility of the north.

Failure: The death or serious injury of Wall Lord Ilvriss Gemscale.

Posted Reward: Friendship with Salazsar! Lack of war! One free meal at The Wandering Inn!

Quest Reward: A <Quest> offering a Skill of the same magnitude as <Individual: Zeladona Ischen, [Blademistress of Ancients]> will be offered to all <Class: Nobles> of <Location: Izril>.

 

At first, it looked good to Ilvriss. Then he began listening to Nerul’s swearing. Then he realized something else.

 

——

 

Lord Xitegen Terland just sighed when someone showed him the <Quest>.

“I don’t think she listens to me. I warned her, and she did this. Maybe she thinks this is wise?”

He complained to his Golem servants, then sat back in his chair. Xitegen leaned so far back he caught his leg on the table and balanced there. He closed his eyes.

“Well done, Miss Solstice. At first it was just I who knew. Now?”

All the north knew. Every single [Lord] and [Lady] of Izril, and if she thought he was mean—

 

——

 

Lord Tyrion Veltras sat on the beach as Ullim read the quest out to him. He was not getting into it with Ilvriss. He had promised Ryoka, but he couldn’t help but point something out.

“The <Quest> implies that this Wall Lord won’t be the one making war. Technically, we could arrest him and jail him for eight months. If it comes to a battle, his survival is the only one that matters.”

“We are not planning on doing that, sire?”

Ullim’s voice was firm, and Tyrion stopped making a sandcastle for Sammial to attack.

“No. I was just speculating. What is he doing that’s so crucial a <Quest> needs to be put on him? Find out, Jericha.”

Her spectacles glinted as she adjusted them.

“We knew it was important given the actions at Salazsar. I will have a list of our best estimates, if not accurate information, within the hour, sir.”

“Good.”

 

——

 

Tyrion was the nice, understanding one. When Ulva Terland read the <Quest>, she paused over breakfast for a long time.

“That inn has the beach, does it not? The one we are copying?”

“Yes, Lady Terland.”

“I should visit. The Wind Runner talked it up greatly. Regarding this Wall Lord…find out what he is doing.”

“Yes, Lady Terland?”

The court of Terlands circulated around her as she patted at her lips and looked to her Golem bodyguards for support. Ulva flicked her fingers.

“Find out what quality of armor he has. Then prepare one of our Hunter-Killer Golems. We will not have rats infesting the north.”

“Yes, Lady Terland.”

 

——

 

Regis Reinhart was also furious—and paranoid.

“They think just because we’ve lost the Guild of Assassins, we don’t have means? What is that Drake after? No—no, that doesn’t matter. Where one goes, the others follow. Every single noble who’s still loyal to Izril will have to take a side. I want to know what he’s doing, and then he dies. First the Vampires, now this!”

It was all an opportunity, but the ghost floated left and right, biting at his fingernails. He didn’t like complications in his plan. Being found out at this stage…he didn’t like the idiotic Vampires who’d stirred up trouble against House Byres.

They were infringing on his plans. Something had to be done. He smiled after he came to a quick conclusion.

“This is all fine. It will be a cover. Swift-burning fires to hide the deeper embers. Prepare the Circle to move again. This Drake will be responsible for a lot of trouble before he dies.”

It was an excellent cover. Trouble was a fine motivator for Izril’s flowers, and if you could lay it at this Drake’s feet—he began to make plans.

 

——

 

And even the ones who didn’t have war or death on the mind thought this was a pretty bad idea. Lord Deilan El read the <Quest> three times and then rang a bell.

It took a while for his helper to appear. Unlike Zedalien, the half-Elf who had worked with Maviola, everything was so…imprecise. New.

The House of El was having pains adjusting to new leadership, despite all the business coming his way. So he couldn’t be blamed by Ryoka for doing this, could he? Deilan thought one moment as a nervous man waited.

“Lord El?”

“Mark up…all our crossbow prices by 50%. But then announce we’re having a sale in one week and slash it by one third.”

The younger [Lord] of House El gave Deilan a confused look, and the [Lord of Manufacture] shrugged.

“Profits. Hurry up and raise the prices. And make one of those ‘video recordings’ of someone firing one of our enchanted bolts through some armor. Everything seems to sell well once people see the crossbows in action.”

With apologies, Ryoka Griffin—he did have a business to run. And Deilan had a feeling business was going to be good. He made a few notes.

“Poisons. Daggers, blowdarts…trap spells. And all the counters to them. We’ll have to switch from Kaalblades to amulets for a while.”

My, oh my. He wondered if it made sense to send some of these artifacts to a popular Named-rank or maybe the Players of Celum. You could get them to…advertise the product?

What a neat concept. But then, it should be something fashionable, trendy. He needed to talk with a [Tailor], Desinee, a fashion expert—she’d know who to pick. Deilan rubbed his hands together and got to work.

 

——

 

Nobles, nobles, all with thoughts and plans. The Five Families were only the largest groups, and this <Quest> had reached them all.

Magnolia Reinhart had such a blistering headache she had to sip Ashfire Honey tea and massage her brows for a good seven minutes before it abated.

“She has no idea what she’s just kicked. They’re not interested in Liscor or the south. The New Lands already riled them up—now she’s sending a Drake into their midst? He’s going to be a training dummy surrounded by [Arbalists]. Ressa, summon Erin to—”

She caught herself and shook her head. Times were changing.

“No, I shall go to her. I wish she’d asked me! Damn our information networks. Drakes on Pegasi move too fast, and I was more worried about what Eschowar is scheming. Damn levels, damn old monsters for not dying, and if she posts one more <Quest>, I shall send Larracel after her! The Haven had more levels than Erin Solstice, and she played carefully with the flowers of Izril!”

She slapped her table as Ressa silently refilled her teacup. After a second, the [Head Maid] murmured.

“The times are a’changing fast, milady Reinhart. She’s trying to push us all faster. Isn’t this what we want?”

Magnolia shook her head.

“Not off a cliff, Ressa. She can’t make us fly. Wall Lord Ilvriss had best hope he can find allies and fast. So too for the [Innkeeper]. They need more than eight [Knights] and a beach.”

“There are more nobles in her inn over Level 40 than most cities have. She’s got Named-ranks for friends, and you can’t swing a rat without hitting a Gold-ranker.”

Ressa pointed out cautiously. Magnolia just sat there, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes, Ressa. But Tyrion, Bethal, Pryde, and even arguably myself, and certainly many of them like Saliss of Lights, even Sinew Magus Grimalkin and Chaldion? They are her friends. They are not there when the crossbows fire again. She has always needed support. Not friends and allies who drop everything and come running. By the time they took that first step, they were already too late.”

She paused a long moment as Ressa nodded.

“…If she cannot find someone, take an inventory of our staff and ask for volunteers to apply at her inn. Unmarried, without family in need or children. I dearly hope she’s ready. Or she won’t make it to whatever’s coming at the Solstice.”

 

——

 

Ilvriss really wanted to know what Erin was thinking. Why had she done this?

He was not the only one who wanted to know. But it was one thing to assume she was doing this out of ignorance. Erin’s friends knew better.

Lyonette knew better. She was eavesdropping on the private dining room, wondering what had possessed Erin, as Ilvriss and Nerul argued with her.

“Erin, this will put the entire north against us!”

“Not all of ‘em. Some of them will want the Skill, and the <Quest> is there to tell the Drakes what you’re doing too, Ilvriss.”

“So you did it on purpose.”

Erin paused a second, and her voice floated out of the private dining room. Lyonette edged the door open so she could see Erin. She knew the [Innkeeper] might know she was here, but Erin was distracted. Her cheeks were flushed, and Lyonette, Ulvama, and the other people listening into the debate could hear her voice.

She was mad.

“—Yes. Okay? I’m not stupid. I posted the quest on purpose. Because Xitegen warned you.”

“And if they go after Ilvriss to kill him? Many would trade even Zeladona’s Skill to murder a Wall Lord.”

Nerul was genuinely curious what Erin was thinking. Her eyes flashed, and her voice rose.

“Let them try. That’s the point of the <Quest>. Ilvriss, I get it. I know you wanted to come in quiet, but the north sieged Liscor. Tyrion Veltras? Even if they didn’t openly say things, they’d do exactly what they’re going to do already. But you know what? Magnolia’s right. She is.”

Erin strode around the room, pacing, angry.

“In my world—there was this movement for civil rights. There have always been people who didn’t see eye-to-eye, and you don’t win by letting the bullies come after you or passively resist. You stand up and be counted. And you count them. If they come after you, I will knock them down. Even if I have to fight one of the Five Families.”

She made a fist, turning to Ilvriss, and Lyonette felt like someone was squeezing her chest. That was—

No, that was Erin. She had just never heard Erin actualize her thoughts like that. It was classic Erin and how she fought for the Goblins.

And it was wrong. The [Princess] felt it in her bones. All the righteousness in the world…that mattered, but this was hearts and minds. Erin was swinging a sword, not holding out a branch.

It reminded Lyonette of Maviola. It reminded her of a young woman waving a flag in front of an army. But it was not the right decision.

Lyonette wanted to tell Erin that, but Nerul got there first. The [Diplomat] was giving Erin a troubled look.

“You’re describing escalation in no uncertain terms, Miss Solstice. My job is to prevent people from coming to blows. Not to go around kicking towers down.”

“You sound like Magnolia.”

Erin snapped back. She shook her head.

“She’s done this like…I’ve seen how she does things. Celum. The Drakes. She plays ‘keep-away’ in diplomacy. She doesn’t poke you too much. She pushes, but she doesn’t get in your face. Aside from her pulling Tyrion off Liscor, she doesn’t challenge her own people. She should. If she wants peace with the Drakes, she has to draw a line in the sand and stand on it. This is the line.”

She turned to Ilvriss, and he threw up his claws as she sent his plans into chaos. Had he really expected she’d be a force purely for his benefit?

Silly Drake. Lyonette withdrew a second as she heard the voices rise and shook her head. Erin was right. She was right—and completely wrong. How could someone be right and wrong like that?

Perhaps…perhaps having the courage to do something didn’t always mean it was the right thing to do. But Lyonette saw Ilvriss striding out the private room a second later, furious, talking to Nerul.

He stopped when he saw her and hesitated. Nerul was just shaking his head as he spoke, though.

“I take it back. I misread her. Utterly. Completely. She’s not a [Fool] in a court. She’s a damn Marquin.”

Lyonette jumped at the term, and Ilvriss glanced at her.

“You mean, like—”

“No, I mean like Marquin the Radiant. She’s practicing Creler-wars diplomacy. What a mess. Give me a day to figure things out and get a read on the temperature, Nephew. I was going to talk to Magnolia Reinhart and ease us into the north. Now, we’re coming in like lions. Wonderful.”

Nerul stormed off, and Lyonette bit her tongue as Ilvriss stood there.

That was the way he came to Liscor and the north, after all. She wished she could say she was surprised. But this all felt unexpectedly expected.

 

——

 

The struggles of Wall Lord Ilvriss and Erin Solstice entered a new phase the next day. From being unwelcome in the north, Ilvriss found himself at the center of real hostility. He started his morning dodging chamberpots being hurled at him in Invrisil.

And that…well, as Nerul would say, that was just a classic Izrilian welcome.

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

I wrote a poem about someone else’s problems:

 

Look at how he dances/Assistant’s wild plans/it passes through the eye of the needle/pirateaba’s comprehension of time/chaos and rhymes.

 

Please snap your fingers because that’s apparently what you do for applause. This is about my hard-working assistant who tries to get me to commit to ‘calendars’ and ‘dates’ for stuff like chapters and arcs.

And I don’t think in stuff like that. I have now engaged the Ilvriss arc, and it is longer than I thought and requires more chapters.

But you know that. I say it all the time. Have you grasped by now how little I understand the flow of time and word count and distance? I float upon a sea of ignorance, and it was not meant that anyone should measure things.

The point is that whatever happens—happens. I’ll write to my energy, health, and the flow of the story. You hear that? No plans! No promises! But I do have that book deadline. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this! That’s the goal.

 

 

My Assistant Replied with Poetry:

Petty Gaiola Pombalina

Written in the cosmos/Sunrise, Sunset

Order unbreakable/My will unshakable

A fearful writer’s minute sphere/No impediment to a calendar

You ain’t got shit Pirateaba

–AssistantBot

 

Flirting by OnionLittle!

 

Silvenia, Dancing, and Food Service by LeChat Demon!

DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/demoniccriminal

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/lechatdemon

Stash with all the TWI related art: https://sta.sh/222s6jxhlt0

 

Ishkr, Toren, and Bone Behemoth by Fiore

Twitter: https://twitter.com/atlasphenomenon

Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/fiorepandaphen

 

Elora’s Birthday by butts!

Twitter: https://twitter.com/buttscord

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/buttsarts

 

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