10.05

(I am on break till March 5th! Expect an update to the Book 12 chapters and a blog about the changes before then. Wish me luck!)

The Wandering Inn was laundering real money. The Silver Swords were starving in the New Lands of Izril. Nerrhavia was teaching herself to play the piano. Roshal was rebuilding its harbor and convincing nations not to hold a grudge.

The Lizardfolk were plotting something in Baleros’ jungles. Goblins were being Goblins. House Reinhart was emerging like a slumbering nest of vipers. Terandria was mobilizing in outrage for war and colonization.

But the real question was—where were the survivors of the battle at sea? One month on and how was Erin Solstice? What about Ser Solstice? They had captured all the attention, then vanished.

What had ever happened to them?

Erin Solstice. And obviously, more importantly—

The Horns of Hammerad?

——

Despite the Death of Magic, Silvenia’s, claims, Colth and Pisces did, in fact, wash up on the shores of Chandrar in a rather grandiose style.

It was a [Saltwater Farmer] on the shore of Medain who saw them appear. He was filling his buckets—which automatically desalinated their contents, a necessity on dry Chandrar if you didn’t live near water—and he saw a ship heading for the beach.

His first thought was [Pirates], and he began to run for his hamlet. Then he took a better look and thought—sinking [Pirates].

To be more precise, it wasn’t so much a ship as the outline of one actively crumbling away as a pair of figures ran back and forth, clearly trying to keep the damn thing operational. By the time the ship was close to beaching, an hour later, the entire hamlet was staring and pointing.

Pisces Jealnet and Colthei Lacment were sunburned, flecked with salt everywhere except Pisces’ enchanted robes, and shouting at each other.

“We’re not going to make it! Use more magic!”

Colth shouted at Pisces. The [Necromancer] shouted back.

“I’m out! You use more magic, Adventurer Lacment!”

Weeks at sea had been enough time for the two to learn important details like last names. Colthei added as much mana as he could to the ship—and was rewarded with a wave cracking the hull. A beam went down, and he dove to safety, cursing.

Pisces’ magic could reanimate ships, but this one was, ah…akin to a five-year-old zombie exposed to bad weather. It was actively breaking.

To be fair, it was a miracle it was even a ship. The piece of driftwood it had initially been had transformed into an actual vessel. Albeit the most cursed ship Pisces had ever ridden on.

“We’re going to sink a mile from the shore! Get ready to swim! This is all your fault, by the way, Pisces.”

Colth paused to jab Pisces in the chest. The [Necromancer] spluttered.

“Me? We would have made landfall weeks ago if we’d just stuck to her plan. She said the tide would push us to shore! You’re the one who speculated we could animate the driftwood to have a safe ride!”

“Yeah, and you’re the [Necromancer] who failed to animate sails. [Sailor] Skills don’t work without canvas, idiot!”

This was manifestly unfair, and both of them were sick of eating fish they’d had to grill on parts of the deck. Pisces’s mouth worked as he searched for a retort.

Neither of them had realized that if they animated the driftwood plank to get a less-soggy place to rest on…Silvenia’s magic would cease propelling them to shore. It had been a very unhappy realization, and thus, the two Horns of Hammerad were a month late to Chandrar.

They were shoving each other and largely cursing the Death of Magic and the sea when Pisces turned.

“Ah. The wheel—”

They’d forgotten the wheel. Now, moved by the natural action of the waves, the ship had swung dangerously to starboard as it neared the actual coast. A wave hit the broadside of the vessel, and the poor ship, already maligned, tilted. Colth ran for the wheel, but the vessel had never been that gainly; tidal action had mostly carried them this far.

And as if the Death of Magic had heard them, a large wave rose, and Pisces saw it smack into the ship—and toss the two adventurers like flies into the surf. Pisces’ last conscious thoughts for a bit were that this was a terrible way to die, this was all Colthei’s fault, and robes were a terrible article of clothing to wear while attempting to swim.

——

For the hamlet of Perricstead (recently renamed), it was perhaps the worst ship landing they had ever seen in their lives. After watching the ship crumble into pieces, several villagers realized the two adventurers weren’t immediately coming up and dove into the water.

By the time they hauled two half-drowned adventurers onto the beach, Colthei swearing and Pisces spewing water, it was clear that this had gone far beyond their humble village. So they sent a message to the provincial magistrate, who identified the two adventurers by name and instantly reported it to the local governor, who skipped the chain of command and reported to His Majesty.

…Of Western Medain. Who then reported to High King Perric, who had absorbed two other kingdoms into his aegis. Thus, the High King instantly announced he had located two of the Horns of Hammerad, who would be conveyed to meet their friend and honored guest at his capital forthwith, immediately! He sent a royal escort out and hurried to tell their worried teammate that the last of her friends besides Ksmvr and Vofea had been located.

Yvlon Byres took the news quite well, having arrived on Chandrar a full week before the other two. She had just learned Ceria was alive and well, having been picked up by a [Fisherman]. The half-Elf had been defrosted recently, and Yvlon thanked High King Perric, declined two invitations for a celebratory drink, and waited to meet Pisces and Colth.

She took the news about the raid on the ceremonial convoy a lot less well. So did High King Perric. When he demanded to know who had attacked his people, let alone a Named-rank and Gold-rank adventurer, it became obvious that mysterious bandit raiders had absconded with the two across the border to Jecrass.

The same mysterious riding warriors who’d been attacking Medain for months ever since King Raelt of Jecrass had been returned to the Realm of Jecrass. In fact, the leader of said riders had apparently recognized Pisces and escorted him to Jecrass.

Obviously, that wouldn’t have been anyone in Jecrass like King Raelt Leysars himself, or that would have been an act of war. And if it was war…well, Medain had had enough of that with Fetohep, and a third of Jecrass was now Khelt’s.

The High King stewed, then sent immediate word to Queen Jecaina about this unfortunate mess, demand—er, insisting his guests be reunited properly. He had a banquet ready and everything.

He sent largely the same message to the people hosting Ceria Springwalker.

Neither the Claiven Earth nor Jecrass replied to his messages.

——

Yvlon Byres was used to the Horns being split up. They’d get together again. And she was calm, in fact, delighted to have someone hospitable instead of a blade at her throat.

She’d walked for two weeks underwater to get to land, and it had been a miracle she hadn’t run into a monster or fallen into an abyss underwater. Or died of the pressure or something, come to that.

It had been agonizing at first, and Yvlon had been reaching upwards for that distant light. Falling, twisting, in the suffocating waters, her breath straining in her lungs.

She’d known she would never pull herself up, not with the lead weights Rosech had conjured pulling her down. Wishing she had the strength—the will to say something important at the end.

Four hands, holding onto her breaking arm. Trying to let go before she dragged Ksmvr down with her, because she knew he’d follow her down.

Then—suddenly—feeling the water around her change. Her escaping bubbles of air ceasing to become the suffocating desperation, and her unconscious exhalation had let in…air.

She’d known what he’d done. Put a ring around her finger. Then—let go. The [Armsmistress] had reached up, mouth open in a wordless shout, flailing now, as her beloved little Antinium drew his swords.

Falling—falling—flailing wildly, covered in silver, as she plunged downwards. Down and down—until she landed and watched a Kraken dying above. Purple blood filling the water. Walking forwards as ships rained down around her. Passing by a [Witch] at the bottom of the sea.

Daring her to try something. Then—walking out of that dark world.

——

Even with Ksmvr’s Ring of Waterbreathing, the first few hours of enduring that pressure and depth had been agonizing, and only Yvlon’s level and her ability to change her body to silver had kept her alive. Then…she had either acclimated to the pressure or something else had happened. Yvlon almost suspected she’d been enchanted, because the crushing pressure and watery hell had become a lot more bearable.

Part of it was the ring. Hedault’s ring might not have been a relic of ages, but the [Enchanter] had made it far superior to a regular ring. He had studied waterbreathing, and Yvlon didn’t get the sickness in her body that she’d heard [Divers] sometimes felt.

It also let her open her mouth, even eat underwater, without flooding her stomach with water; there was a kind of bubble that would stop water from running down her throat.

Even still, the journey had been the hard part. Yvlon had picked a random direction and begun to walk, hoping to find something that would allow her to rise or get her bearings. Swimming was impossible; she was too heavy to manage it.

—As she walked, she saw sharks, fishes by the tens of thousand, and sea creatures flocking upwards towards the body of the Kraken. Pieces of it had fallen around her, raining down onto the sea floor where creatures in the dark nibbled at them and glowing jellyfish or weird sea cucumbers wriggled about for a feast of the ages. Yvlon walked past them, a stranger in the depths, ignored due to the bounty of a Kraken’s passing.

Two weeks was a long time to walk. Yvlon’s experience of sea life was critters swimming up, staring at her metal arms, and deciding she wasn’t edible. Of course, Yvlon made the same appraisal.

Two weeks. Catching fish and eating them raw underwater. Slowly, slowly striding upwards until she burst onto land. She’d made a bit of an impact.

By coincidence or…again, something else, Yvlon had walked out of the water almost right into the center of Medain’s capital harbor, Homgrasse.

The sight of a scowling woman with silver arms rising from the water, seaweed and fish bones tangled in her hair, still wearing filthy armor as a [Net Fisher] was about to cast off, had caused…an alarm. After spitting lungfuls of water out onto the pier, Yvlon’s first words to the alarmed crowd had been—

“Is Admiral Rosech still alive? I need a ship. How many Bloodtear Pirates are left to kill?”

High King Perric himself had come down from his palace in the midst of the parade they were throwing her and invited her to his palace. Since this was a better reception than her first visit to Chandrar and being unjustly arrested, Yvlon had of course accepted.

Then a week had passed while she recovered and [Healers] pronounced her oddly fine—it seemed Yvlon’s ability to change to silver had done a lot for her.

“No pressure damage, not much malnutrition—there were a few worms you get from fish in her, but they’re dead. Murdered by the silver in her arms or body, it seems. Incredible, Your Majesty.”

Yvlon was still considerably worse for wear, but High King Perric feasted her after some mandatorily nutritious meals. He, personally, escorted her around his palace, introducing her to his [Royal Smith], the lesser [Kings], [Queen], and other people dying to meet her, and wouldn’t hear of her paying for anything.

“Adventurer Yvlon—you mustn’t let these people call you Miss Yvlon—you are a famous Gold-rank adventurer and my guest. We will have that armor of yours repaired, re-enchanted, and while I can’t do better than your two rings from the Village of the Dead, I insist you avail yourself of my treasury.”

She did not, because a free pass to someone else’s treasury was just…not something Yvlon would take advantage of. Which probably put her apart from her team, but High King Perric struck her as someone it was wise to keep as a generous host.

He was a broad-shouldered man with a combed, thick beard the color of bronze, and he wore voluminous, expensive clothing, often golden, and he had twelve artifacts on his body at all times.

His ostentatious dress and glossy hair might have been to help distract from the fact that his form, a former Gold-rank adventurer’s, had slipped slightly over the years. He was still in good shape for a man in his forties, and he was young, vigorous, a High King who had unified the Thalassocracy of Medain from being a lowly [Prince]-adventurer in a smaller kingdom after the King of Destruction had gone to his slumber.

Perric told all this to Yvlon, or his courtiers did, and it was abundantly clear he was a fan of adventuring. And rich.

His palace was huge and the most eye-poppingly exorbitant place Yvlon had ever been to, including her aunt’s mansion, save for perhaps Nerrhavia Fallen’s palace itself. And that was old architecture and wealth, a bit faded; Perric had new richness.

Medain was, in fact, four kingdoms that Perric had assimilated down the coastline, and the High King had done it through military conquest, if less bloody and world-newsworthy than Flos Reimarch’s wars. He had his Golden Ranks, former adventurers who signed up to become well-paid, elite soldiers, and Medain had three dungeons, which meant it was one of the adventuring nations even Yvlon had heard about.

One could wax eloquent about Yvlon’s stay, first devouring cooked food, then asking about the fate of Erin, the Horns, and everyone else and processing the deaths at the Solstice—several pillars in Perric’s palace showed evidence of that.

But that might have been a waste of time and words. So here was what mattered: High King Perric took a look at a terrified servant pointing out the imprint of a fist in the marble pillar. He considered Yvlon Byres’ reputation, her involvement with Erin Solstice, now a pariah, and the Horns of Hammerad as a whole.

He threw her another parade.

——

Perric loved adventurers. That was it. Yvlon woke up the day after he had told her that Pisces and Colth had been kidnapped, stretched, and wondered whether she should go to them or if they’d come to her.

“Alright. Time to find my team.”

She’d been content to wait around for news of them; it had seemed like Perric had been searching everywhere at sea for the two, but now that she knew where her team was, Yvlon had a job to do.

She checked her arms and then her stomach and legs, and they didn’t look as shrunken as they had been from her sea voyage. Yvlon checked the gleaming chest plate on an armor stand, found her bag of holding, pulled out her gear, from the Goblin pillow to adventurer supplies, grimaced, and made a list.

“Food. Lots of food, good for a long time. No pemmican. A healing potion or two if I can get any these days…I’m going to need water for Chandrar if we’re here long. But if we sail for Baleros, that’s simple. Anything else? I could use a bow, maybe. Bograms was a problem. Spell scrolls…”

She wondered if she could buy any or ask High King Perric for an introduction to a shop. Then again, the man might offer it all to her wholesale.

She didn’t want to be in debt to him. But if she could get a horse and ride for Jecrass or the Claiven Earth…which group needed her help most?

“…Probably Ceria. And I think I’m closer to her. Right.”

Yvlon cracked her neck. She opened the door, and a servant bowed to her.

“Adventurer Byres, the High King is awaiting you for breakfast.”

“Ah. Right. I was going to buy…”

“Anything you wish can be procured, Adventurer Byres. Anything. Shall we deliver it to your person or your rooms?”

The servants were unsettlingly helpful. Yvlon wasn’t really used to them; House Byres didn’t have that many servants, but she awkwardly gave them a list, and one nodded. She proceeded down the carpeted corridors of the inner palace, nodding to people.

“Hello. Morning. Good morning.”

Almost all of the people she passed were women. From servants to…wives. Or concubines? Yvlon Byres had never run into a real harem before, but Perric had told her that was what this was.

A [Princess]—well, two [Princesses]—three noblewomen, a whole host of common folk—including the [Royal Blacksmith]—four former adventurers, two [Mages], and apparently even a Djinni, though Yvlon hadn’t met the Djinni. Of almost every species in the world.

Yvlon had opinions on that, but she kept them to herself. Find my team, get out.

The problem was, High King Perric was generous right now, and Yvlon was aware the man could probably turn nasty, so she had gone along with all of his parades and talked to him extensively. She was worried about bringing up her departure.

That was problem one. Problem two was more prosaic. As Yvlon descended the carpeted staircase into a private dining room, she saw High King Perric sitting at a vast table adorned with dishes he probably was only going to sample at best. He rose to his feet, beaming.

“Ah, you! You’re finally awake, eh? Good morning to you, Miss Byres!”

Yvlon twitched slightly as that familiar refrain greeted her. It was apparently a Chandrarian thing.

“Good morning, King Perric. I was just thinking of leaving to find my teammates. How are you doing this morning?”

The problem with High King Perric was that he was somewhat pushy and treated her better than Yvlon really needed or wanted. He was overly generous—and Yvlon sat down and gave him a polite smile. She only half-noticed his smile wavering because it had never occurred to her that there might be a problem with her.

——

High King Perric loved adventurers. This was the actual truth. He admired anyone crazy and skilled enough to take on famous challenges, and the Horns—and Yvlon Byres herself—definitely qualified.

There was just…one problem. Social niceties must not have been something they taught Izrilian [Ladies] or her time as an adventurer had made her amazingly, uh…

“—Leave? Why, I’ve sent word for your teammates to arrive here, and if we locate Ksmvr of Chandrar and this Adventurer Vofea, I will personally have them sped here, Adventurer Byres! I heard you had a request for supplies. You’ve finally availed yourself of my offer!”

She ducked her head.

“I didn’t want to impose on your hospitality.”

“My hospitality is only offered to be imposed upon, Miss Byres. I won’t hear of you leaving tonight. We have more guests—both [Kings] of Southern and Western Medain wish to meet you, so there’s to be a banquet by luncheon. As for Jecrass—”

He flicked his fingers, trying to keep his face straight.

“I will press the matter firmly.”

I will have this matter settled with Jecrass. His Majesty of Khelt is one thing…but Raelt Leysars and I are not finished. Nor the ‘Arbiter Queen’.

Whether Yvlon noticed Perric’s scowl—or sudden expression of worry—she was good enough not to show it.

“You really needn’t honor me so much, Your Majesty.”

“Nonsense! Why, it’s the only delight I’ve had all year!”

He meant that. They were still cleaning up the disaster on the border where the Jaw of Zeikhal had begun rampaging. True, it had gone after both the Claiven Earth and his forces, but…Perric’s stomach was in knots still remembering that day on the Winter Solstice.

He must have offended King Fetohep somehow. But the ruler had not responded to his many apologies and requests seeking clarification. There were reports the Jaws of Zeikhal had attacked A’ctelios Salash—even Reim! And rumors they’d attacked Khelt too, but that was nonsense.

Fetohep of Khelt was not a man…undead to take lightly. Perric had once; never again.

Compared to that touchy, dangerous ruler, Yvlon was a breath of fresh air. Even if said air sometimes felt as boring as…

Here was the problem. Perric leaned over his table as he dug into a roasted partridge.

“One hears more than just news of teammates in my palace, Miss Byres. I’ve invited several adventurers to meet with you now that you’ve recovered your strength. One even faced off against His Majesty of Khelt—ah, but the news is always fresh these days. Have you heard the King of Destruction has smashed another Nerrhavian army? His Seven—well, four—together are ludicrous.”

He grimaced, but it was a worthy conversation topic.

“—Or what of that Terandrian fleet sinking a Dullahan trading vessel? Ostensibly trading, but they fought hard. I cannot imagine what that will do for shipping…”

He drummed his fingers, concerned himself about trade routes. What did you think about all that? Yvlon Byres sat, posture immaculate, eating with the training of a former [Lady]. She chewed, drank some water, swallowed, and gave him a polite smile.

Fair-haired, muscled—her silversteel arms showed that in very pleasing fashion. Fine features for an active adventurer, despite some scars, and a pleasant voice. A quintessential adventurer’s adventurer, the kind he’d read about in Tales of Adventure and Woe.

What did she say?

“The King of Destruction’s war seems quite damaging to Nerrhavia’s Fallen, Your Majesty. Incidents at sea would of course affect shipping negatively. I fear for the economies of port cities. House Byres does not have much sea trade, but everyone needs sugar. I note the weather is clearing up. It looks to be an early spring.”

High King Perric kept sawing on his partridge as he stared at her. One of his servants, able-bodied and adept, stared a bit too long at Yvlon Byres as he refilled her drink.

It wasn’t just the subject matter. It was the…the cadence and that slightly-fake smile of interest and…everything else just congealed in some manner to make her delivery of all that the most bland and generic conversation possible.

“Ah, yes. Quite? You’ve met the King of Destruction yourself. Did you have any insight into his character?”

Yvlon thought about it.

“At the time, he was wearing bandages. If I had known he was the King of Destruction, I would have been initially very wary. By the way, High King Perric, would it be acceptable to request a healing potion or two from your treasury? I understand this is a significant request, but I feel I need it for my future endeavors.”

Polite smile. High King Perric stared at her and decided he had time to review some court documents today. Or perhaps look at taxation law himself.

Dead gods, for the Silver Killer of Izril…well, he supposed everyone had flaws.

——

Yvlon’s inability to make interesting small talk was close to an actual power. She didn’t realize this, of course.

There they were, [Kings], Gold and Silver-rank adventurers, and former adventurers who Perric liked, standing around the huge reception hall with golden pillars, hanging on her every word. [Merchants] standing at the back, drinks being passed around.

“—And then you entered into the heart of the Village of the Dead. Alone. Other adventurers falling back, a [Sword Legend] hunting down giants—and what happened next?”

Perric introduced the scene. Yvlon swallowed some champagne and thought for a second, frowning.

“Well, my team and I passed into the heart of the city relatively unscathed. There were quite a lot of insects and other creatures.”

“Carrion beetles. Hordes of plague rats.”

The High King was doing his best, keeping his voice ominous, and the audience shivered. But Yvlon’s voice was—flat. Not flat as in exasperated; lacking intonation. Not even matter-of-fact.

“We ran into a being in the center of the Putrid One’s lair and the master himself. He was already dead, and it seemed we disturbed his stasis spell. The [Necromancer] was guarded by a powerful minion who nearly killed us until Pisces activated a Scroll of Greater Teleportation at random.”

She murdered the lede and buried it. She sucked out the climax of the story and spat it out with the ending so fast her audience wasn’t left hanging…they hadn’t even taken a step up the ladder of suspense.

They stared at her, and Yvlon sipped from a cup.

“Then I woke up in Nerrhavia’s Fallen where I was arrested on false charges. After that, I was transported to the capital of Nerrhavia’s Fallen. You may have heard of my erroneous nickname, the Silver Killer, but it was a pure exaggeration, I assure you—”

Perric clutched at his head with one hand.

“Adventurer Yvlon, go back to the fight, the fight! I got a quite salutary tale before that. Tell me about—tell me about Ksmvr of Chandrar fighting the minion.”

That was his trick after a week of enduring Yvlon’s tales. Then, the [Armsmistress]’ face changed. The audience, who had been looking at each other and wondering if this was really the famous adventurer, saw Yvlon scowl, and her hand crushed the glass of champagne in a moment.

“He kept attacking even when there was no chance. If I was back there, I would have—”

Yes, yes! Everyone looked at her, and Perric held his breath. Then Yvlon glanced at the champagne glass.

“Oh, I do apologize. I’ve been learning to control my temper from Berr the Berserker. It’s been an issue this last year, you see, and—”

Perric’s eyes rolled up in his head. Dead gods. Why couldn’t it have been Ksmvr of Chandrar? Or Ceria Springwalker? Well, that’s why he wanted them here.

——

People found her stories acceptable; the crowd around Perric broke up and let her go, though he was gesturing them to the side.

“I have a reenactment with my War Golems of the entire battle. And I’ve pieced together the events—I have a [Bard], sadly not Barelle the [Bard]—who will declaim it. This way—”

Which left Yvlon standing there. People would soon introduce themselves, and she sighed.

She hated this. She had to master that temper, too. She’d almost let it slip.

Yvlon really didn’t know how to hobnob. Everyone thought she did, but she’d always been off-kilter at events like these.

Ylawes, now, he could be impressive, and Ysara was interesting. She did her best.

“Let’s see. Two fingers pinched, pinkie like this…”

She fiddled with a cup, taking a good few minutes to copy what other people were doing. Yvlon joined a conversation about the King of Destruction’s war.

Don’t make the same mistakes as last time when you were twelve. Right. No asking any [Ladies] or [Lords] whether they’d actually go to war instead of talking about it.

Don’t go up to Lady Ulva Terland for stories about the Antinium Wars. Yvlon kept a polite smile on her face. No controversial opinions.

“The King of Destruction is indeed a greatly upsetting force in this world, isn’t he?”

That was the kind of rational statement she felt was safe. Everyone gave her a long look, but they nodded. Whew. Perfect. She was getting the hang of it. Yvlon had been worried about the tips she’d been giving Ksmvr to help him blend into polite society, but they were paying off splendidly here.

Remember your manners. You might have to be in Chandrar a while, especially if we’re getting Ksmvr’s sword.

“Ah, you. Adventurer Yvlon. You’re finally awake and about High King Perric’s banquet. Might I have a word?”

There it was again. Yvlon’s shoulders tensed. Did they ever get tired of that stupid greeting? She turned, and the man who bowed to her was…one of High King Perric’s higher-ranking flunkies.

“I am indeed awake. Can I help you…Majordomo?”

The [Majordomo] bowed and motioned a few people away as they walked towards an open balcony, which was warm despite the winter due to heating spells. It had an impressive view of the city below.

“High King Perric has been delighted by your company, Adventurer Byres. On his behalf—these things are best done with intermediaries—he wishes to express his heartfelt admiration for your prowess with the sword and as a fellow adventurer.”

“That’s very kind of him. I must be leaving soon, but his hospitality has been most welcome.”

Dead gods. The [Majordomo] might have mouthed that, but he regained his stride.

“—Yes, well. With all due deference to your desire to leave, the High King has wished to express to me the most delicate matter of…I am sure you have seen his most varied consorts. It would not be remiss to him if you were to join that illustrious number—as first and foremost, of course! And while one must travel, he would offer you a permanent place, or perhaps just the title? One may return to a home away from home on one’s adventures. There is also a generous stipend for—”

Yvlon Byres stared at the man for quite some time until she got what he meant. The [Majordomo] kept going as Yvlon cleared her throat.

“I am, er…not interested at this time.”

“Absolutely understandable, Adventurer Byres! Such courtships take a while, and High King Perric understands superior adventurers have so many obligations…bear it in mind, and I will be here to answer any questions.”

The [Majordomo] backed off instantly, which relieved Yvlon. She had almost got a bit annoyed there. She was about to excuse herself when he hesitated, and the man lifted a finger.

“Would you—purely as happenstance—happen to know if Captain Ceria had ever mentioned His Majesty in a positive light? There is a bounty for anyone inducted into His Majesty’s harem…”

——

Dead gods. Yvlon extricated herself from that conversation after five more minutes and hurried away, trying not to have anyone stop her for a word.

How did these people in Chandrar live? Like that? She hoped not everyone had that many concubines. And the worst part was—

“Hey, you. Finally awake, eh?”

Twitch. Yvlon Byres turned, and someone grinned right in her face. The desire to hit whoever said that faded slightly as Yvlon saw a half-gaseous figure floating in the air, flicking a bangled arm of dark, magical skin at her.

The Djinni. The most unique—and dangerous—member of Perric’s harem winked at Yvlon, and the adventurer hesitated. They were standing by some curtains at the edge of the party, and this woman was idly wiping something on the red velvet.

It was…a rotten orange? Yvlon had noticed a few stains around the palace, but she hadn’t commented on them.

“Name’s Maef. Enjoying Chandrarian hospitality?”

“Er. Hello. I am Yvlon Byres. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a Gold-rank adventurer of the Horns of Hammerad. You must be one of High King Perric’s concubines. A Djinni.”

Even the Djinni, Maef, did a slight double-take at Yvlon’s speech. But when Yvlon offered her a hand to shake, the Djinni laughed.

Several servants ran over and hurriedly blocked Yvlon.

“Adventurer Yvlon! The Royal Consort, Maef, is slightly unpredictable despite her bindings. Take care when offering her anything. Let alone shaking her hand!”

Before Yvlon could reconsider, Maef grabbed Yvlon’s hand in a strong, but feather-light touch. She looked, at this moment, like a woman with ebony skin, hooped earrings, bright violet eyes, her lower form turning to gaseous clouds, wearing jewelry and golden clothing that barely covered her chest, leaving her midriff bare.

She had a piercing on her belly. Yvlon stared at her, and the Djinni’s eyes were magic. She was old; they all were, though how old this one was…was relative. Gold-rank threats, each. And yet, Maef eyed Yvlon with real interest for once.

“You shook my hand. Even if your arm’s silver, only an idiot in Chandrar does that.”

“I apologize. I’ll remember it for later.”

“And you talk like the most generic [Guardswoman] with rocks-for-brains. Despite being called the Silver Killer. If I hadn’t seen an image of you ripping [Pirates] apart with your bare hands, I’d scarcely put the two together. No wonder even Perric, His Majesty of Infinitesimal Girth, isn’t leaping to jump into your bed. Rare a female adventurer of your rank escapes, you know. Frieke of Khelt only got away because her Seahawk pecked his genitals when he tried to hide in her bed.”

There were a number of unpleasant things being said, from revelations about Perric to insults to her character. Yvlon began to scowl, remembered who she was talking to, then kept her face straight and pleasant. Maef grew more amused.

“Does it hurt to make that expression? You’re the second most interesting Human I’ve met in the last decade.”

“I’m being polite. I apologize if I sound…stilted.”

Yvlon grew a bit embarrassed, realizing in hindsight all the people who had given her space had found her boring. But Maef chuckled.

“There’s a reason even High King Perric of Dreamleaf still pursues you. He’s smart enough to see who you are when you’re not pretending to be a good little Yellat. I almost wish he’d try your room.”

“I hope not. I might have killed him by accident.”

“…Yes, that’s why I hoped that. Dead gods, you’re amazingly boring. Is it a Skill?”

Maef was endlessly rude, probably because she was a consort with nothing to do all day. She was a slave…Pisces had suffered in Chandrar. Pisces shouldn’t be here, and Ksmvr was on another continent.

Yvlon’s smile was considerably more clenched as she thought of all that.

“I’m trying. To be. Polite. If I offend people, I will get my team in trouble.”

“Oh, I know.”

Maef twisted around, as if bored, like a cat and rotated sideways until she was reclining in the air. The servants backed away, and the Djinni winked at Yvlon.

“The problem is, a boring woman is a boring woman, even if she can rip holes in ships. They’ll treat you like me. A Djinni to be seen, not heard. Perric of Numerous Bodily Functions will be polite to you, but never listen.”

That…struck a chord with Yvlon, and she glanced around for a drink. Instantly, more champagne appeared, and Maef eyed it.

“Not spiked with an aphrodisiac. You’re fine to drink that. He doesn’t invite me to functions often because I perform helpful services like these for his prospective wives.”

Yvlon almost spat the drink back out. She was growing significantly less enamored with Perric’s kingdom and the man himself by the second, and she was worried.

There were high-ranking adventurers and people here, and if she really was as boring as a lemon—no, wait, lemons were interesting—a Yellat, then what was she to do?

“I could be more…forthright. But that doesn’t tend to work. Diplomatically. It works fine on [Bandits] and my teammates.”

Yvlon recalled hitting Ceria with an ice bucket. She had to stop that—stop unleashing her temper, because it was a choice—but she couldn’t bridge the gap between ‘interestingly piqued’ and ‘bland socialization’.

Maef eyed Yvlon with genuine interest, and maybe it was the handshake or boredom—it was probably boredom and mischief—but she smirked.

“Well, Djinnis are said to be masters of wordplay as well as magic. It comes with trying to wiggle out of our bonds. I saw you twitching at the way they were addressing you. ‘Finally awake’ is light ribbing in Chandrar.”

“It…reminds me of how I first got here. When you hear everyone saying it to you, it grates after the hundredth time. And I don’t know how to make small talk.”

Maef put her hands together, thoughtful.

“I see. You’re not good at being interesting, is it? What you need is…a good way to introduce yourself. Something that defines you. Helps you show them who you really are. Chandrar loves history as well as stories. You need to tell people who you are in an economical way.”

Yvlon Byres hesitated. She missed Maef’s twinkling eyes and completely forgot all the warnings about Djinni doing everything they could to trick someone within the rules they had been given. She listened as Maef began workshopping something with her, and Yvlon’s eyes lit up.

This was a great idea! When she told Maef it was perfect, even the Djinni gave her a flat look—then snorted.

“Are you real? Are you serious?”

That was when she noticed the glint in Yvlon’s eyes—and sat up in the air. The [Silversteel Armsmistress] gave Maef a smile…and shook her hand again.

“There’s a benefit to being ignored, Master Berr once told me. It means you can catch them off-guard and kick them in the nutsack.”

——

High King Perric had lost track of Yvlon for a bit to tell the story of her escapades properly. He hoped she hadn’t left; for one thing, there was a task he wanted to talk to the Horns of Hammerad about…

And there were other adventurers who wanted to scope out one of Izril’s most famous teams. Even if they weren’t the highest-ranked…they were famous.

Medain had a few Named-ranks—fewer, with Frieke the Traitor’s absence. But among them were Requiel, the famous Three of Arms with his extra magical arm salvaged from Medain’s dungeons.

There was also, today, Chorteal the Djinni Master accompanied by both of his primary Djinni guards. Both Named-ranks wanted to meet Yvlon Byres.

Adventurers could be fine allies—or enemies—and they were all competition. But the group currently introducing themselves to Yvlon wasn’t just scoping her out.

“Adventurer Yvlon! It’s good to see the only other team close to Named-rank! Besides ourselves. Everyone’s been walking in your shadow, but it’s good to finally meet you in person!”

An energetic Stitch-woman seized Yvlon’s hand and shook it vigorously as the Silver Killer broke away from Maef. Yvlon was accosted by a group of four, and Perric scowled.

“Why are the Conquerors of Rameid here? They were not invited.”

He snapped at his [Majordomo], who cringed and said they’d bluffed their way in. Perric watched, ready to intercede—he knew this team had an axe to grind against the Horns.

Named-rank was a difficult position to get and almost never vanished once acquired. Only Elia Arcsinger might lose that position; getting to Named-rank might set you for life. Gold-rank was impressive. Named-rank was legendary.

Teams and individuals wanted it. They campaigned for it. The Conquerors of Rameid were famous for, well…the Stitch-woman was explaining it.

“I’m Raava. That’s Lorllemdron, Itpiv, and Orsenor. We’re a Gold-rank team who reached the lowest depths of Medain’s Dungeon of Rameid. The Crystal Caverns, where Gold-rank monsters eat the magic gems growing there. See?”

They all wore the harvested crystal from down there that made amazing magical gear and that Wistram bought up. Raava was a Cotton Stitch-woman who’d upgraded to Silk; her team was young, hungry for success—and the Stitch-woman’s hand was tight on Yvlon’s.

“We’ve been campaigning to apply for Named-rank or have the Adventurer’s Guild set us a task, what with Torreb gone. But all they can talk about are the Horns of Hammerad. I hope you’re all they say. Lost your tongue, Adventurer Yvlon?”

High King Perric was about to have the Conquerors tossed out on their ears, but he also sort of wanted to see if Yvlon Byres lost her temper. He watched, sipping from his cup, as Yvlon took in the team.

She gave them her polished, bland smile, and Perric wondered if her genericisms would work on the Conquerors. Then he heard Yvlon’s newest weapon come out swinging, a polished, nay, perfect delivery thanks to Maef.

Yvlon looked Raava straight in the eyes, holding a half-empty champagne glass, a smile on her face as she spoke.

“Hello. My name is Yvlon Byres. I’m a member of the Horns of Hammerad, a Gold-ranked team. Some may call me the ‘Silver Killer of Izril’, but I assure you, the truth is I’m hardly so dangerous. I got my name fighting in the Coliseum of Monarchs in Chandrar, and my team has fought everything from Adult Crelers to monsters in dungeons like the Ruins of Albez. I am delighted to meet you, Adventurer Raava, and I hope, if circumstances allow, we can adventure together.”

Then she shook Raava’s hand. The other Gold-rank adventurer was so stunned Yvlon was able to get free and walk away. High King Perric found wine dribbling down his front.

Perric saw Raava open her mouth—turn sideways to stare at her team incredulously, ball up a fist—then just scratch her head. Yvlon’s smile stayed fixed where it was, and after a second, Raava edged back a step or two.

High King Perric leaned over to his [Majordomo].

“…Get the [Healer] back in. Perhaps oxygen deprivation from that Ring of Waterbreathing? Or she was cursed in…?”

“Absolutely, Your Majesty.”

Then Perric saw King Magores of West Medain stop Yvlon.

“Adventurer Byres! A delight to meet you. I am King Magores—could I trouble you for an introduction?”

He was a lesser king, and his duties were mostly governance, but still, an important enough man. Yvlon swiveled around and gave him a smile. Like a man having a bad dream, Perric saw her open her mouth, and…Magores had been close enough to hear her the first time.

His face slowly drained of vitality as Yvlon spoke.

“Hello. My name is Yvlon Byres. I’m a member of the Horns of Hammerad, a Gold-ranked team. Some may call me the ‘Silver Killer of Izril’, but I assure you, the truth is I’m hardly so dangerous. I got my name fighting in the Coliseum of Monarchs in Chandrar, and my team has fought everything from Adult Crelers to monsters in dungeons like the Ruins of Albez. It’s a pleasure to meet you, King Magores. I am sure my team would be delighted to take any requests you have, time permitting.”

Somewhere, Maef was laughing so hard she was rotating in the air. Yvlon Byres shook the [King]’s hand, and…and then it was like a game.

“Hey, you there. Finally awake?”

“Hello. My name is Yvlon Byres. I’m a member of…”

“I, ah, wondered if you had an opinion on the Crossroads of Izril?”

“It is indeed a dangerous and exciting locale. I would recommend being at least a Gold-rank team when trying to explore it.”

“Were there any monsters there? How did you appear in the skies over Izril?”

“My team and I did indeed fight in the Crossroads. I am unsure how our images were shown over Izril, but we live in very exciting times. This champagne is excellent. Are you also here at High King Perric’s invitation?”

A cluster of admiring [Servants] holding out autograph cards visibly eyed each other. However, a girl who’d begged her parents to meet the Silver Killer looked visibly delighted; the girl’s parents shook hands with Yvlon, then hurried their daughter away to whisper to her.

Perric realized he hadn’t stopped staring at Yvlon for the last thirty minutes. He began mouthing each word she said and realized both [Kings] were doing the same, one to laughter, another with a look of great concern on his face.

You had to hand it to her. That was definitely Yvlon Byres, member of the Gold-rank team the Horns of Hammerad, sometimes known as the Silver Killer of Izril.

High King Perric didn’t know what to think of that night as he lay in bed, too confused to even call for one of his concubines. He decided that the feature was…attractive? Though he might go crazy if every time they greeted each other in private she had the same dialogue.

The High King made one large mistake. And it was that he had forgotten Yvlon had developed this new speaking style thanks to Maef. Just as the two had observed—

If they stopped paying attention to you, it was a prime opportunity to sneak over and kick them in the nuts.

——

Yvlon took a two-hour nap after dinner as everyone was turning in. She wouldn’t get a full night’s sleep; she had timed when she’d wake up with a little [Alarm] spell under her pillow.

But that didn’t mean she was idle. There was a limit to how much she could train with her body a mess from her ocean voyage, and besides, Perric would come by and watch at some point.

In sleep, though…Yvlon opened her ‘eyes’ and found herself in a white world.

Familiar, now. Her dreamscape had little in it.

“Good. Let’s get to training.”

She’d observed the power of her dreams was more significant than she thought. So, Yvlon had been training the last week and even in the ocean.

Yvlon took a dream-breath, dropped down, and began doing pushups. One, two, three, four…

She was getting good at it. Every sleep, she did a hundred pushups, a hundred situps, ran for what she felt like was ten miles, and swung a sword at least a hundred times.

Her dream body didn’t usually feel the effort. But Yvlon reasoned that dream-her had to have muscles of some kind. Or some way to improve. Her record was two thousand nine hundred and eighty-one pushups before she woke up.

It was hard to focus that long; she’d lose cohesion and start dreaming if she weren’t careful. Also, Yvlon had begun adding weights.

At first, she’d tried to do a pushup with a literal mountain on her back—and she had! Very gratifying…but the mountain hadn’t really been real. The more she’d focused on it, the less she understood it. Like a blurry painting; there were no details, and it had no weight.

Yvlon had realized that she didn’t really believe she could lift a mountain or know what a mountain…felt like to lift. Everything in dreams needed understanding, so she’d begun doing pushups with real, tangible things on her back.

Mrshas. Yvlon knew exactly how heavy that rascal was, so she concentrated as she did pushups.

One Mrsha. Two Mrshas. Three Mrshas…ten Mrshas…

Her dream-arms strained as fifty Mrshas sat on her back, waving their wands and writing notes that showered down around her.

Forsooth, I’m Mrsha!

Get swol, idiot!

Can you even lift?

“—ninety-nine…one hundred!”

Yvlon wearily stood up, then began to go for her run. The white landscape of her dream was everywhere, but she was running with a harness attached to a sled with a pile of Mrshas on it.

Yvlon could not have told you her destination when she ran. The ground was flat and white, and she had no destination, only the run. But the sweat running down her brow traced a furrow down one eye socket, past her nose, and dripped from her chin onto her tunic.

The leather harness had a widening fracture, and it was cracked from weeks of pulling that much weight; she’d reasoned it had to be in bad shape, so she’d have to stop and repair it, maybe patch the spot or replace the entire section of leather.

Then she’d take a look at the skids on the sled; she felt like all that Mrsha-weight was deforming the steel on the left side…Yvlon stared ahead as Mrshas threw red balls at the back of her head. She would have liked more scenery, but unless you ‘visited’ other dreams, this place was really boring.

After a while, she woke up.

——

It was around midnight when Yvlon Byres got up from her bed, silenced her alarm spell, and dressed herself. She picked up a pack by the door, checked under her bed once, and then began to leave Perric’s guest wing.

Yvlon Byres repeated her dialogue tree six times on the way out of the palace. She had left a very polite letter on her bed, and the servants who stared at her with glazed eyes completely forgot to ask what she was doing after she gave them the most banal greeting ever.

In fact, the palace guards assumed she was out for a night stroll, and she audibly heard them laughing to themselves about the ‘silly adventurer’. She made it all the way to the city gates on horseback when a [Guard] stopped her.

“Hey. Are you going out on an adventure? What’s with the horse? It’s curfew thanks to the Jecrass raids!”

He didn’t recognize Yvlon, but he was grumpy about having to open the gates and gave her a hard time. Yvlon pointed ahead.

“Is that way Claiven Earth?”

For the first time, she got spit at her horse’s hooves instead of people who knew she was Perric’s guest.

“Sure, if you’re dumb enough to bother the half-Elves. It’s miles away. What’s your rank? I’ll write you up to the damn guild, see if I don’t. No one’s getting out unless you have a damn good reason.”

He saw the armored figure dismount and walk up to him. She stood there, a strange, smiling woman in the night, and said:

“Wh—huh? The—”

The man didn’t get a word edgewise as she went on, still smiling.

“I got my name fighting in the Coliseum of Monarchs in Chandrar, and my team has fought everything from Adult Crelers to monsters in dungeons like the Ruins of Albez. Right now, I am looking for my teammates, the Horns of Hammerad. If you don’t open the gates, I will beat you to death with my bare hands. Please, open the gates.”

At some point, he realized she was right in front of him, and her silversteel hands were clasping one of his arms. The [Guard] stared into her bright, blue eyes and made a small sound. He called to the others on watch.

“O-open the gates!”

That was how she left the capital city of Medain. Yvlon Byres rode across Medain, stopping twice to trade her horse at a stable, until she estimated she had quite a lead on any pursuers by daybreak.

——

Of course, High King Perric had an entire kingdom to call upon, so people came from ahead of her to ask her to go back. She told them who she was and where she was going. Opposition cleared out when a Gold-rank adventurer politely gave them a ternary set of options to reply with:

“Halt, in the name of High King Perric!” (Begins fight).

“May I ask further questions?” (Loops dialogue tree).

“Farewell!” (Leave).

Two days later, she stopped at a forest and stared at an arrow that had magically sprouted from the grass just in front of her feet. A figure appeared on top of a tree branch of an impossibly tall conifer tree.

“Begone. The Claiven Earth is not for your kind.”

The half-Elf [Sentries] saw a woman dismount from her horse, take a few steps forwards—and they recognized her silver arms as a trio of arrows landed at her feet. She smiled, looked up, and said:

“Hello. My name is Yvlon Byres…”

It was amazing how being polite and stating your name, backstory, and purpose cut through problems. Yvlon had decided she was going to do this a lot more. Especially when she was annoyed. After about ten minutes of repeating her introduction phrase—at increasing volume—the [Sentries] eyed Yvlon and the group from Medain watching the Silver Killer, and got word from their superiors.

They allowed her—and only her—to walk onto the grass and into the Claiven Earth’s forest by the coast. Yvlon trudged through a forest that grew increasingly denser and more humid until she saw a vast city of tree-based houses and half-Elves pointing down at her from impressive walkways that stretched up thousands of feet.

A city far more elegant than Medain—but a far smaller nation, too. Half-Elves, some young, but most as old as Ceria or far older peering down at her as she shaded her brow with a metal hand. Then a familiar voice shouted from above.

“Yvlooooon!”

Ceria Springwalker ziplined down a line of ice she created, causing chaos among half-Elves, who stared up at her as several minders pursued her. She still had a bandage on her chest and thigh from where she’d been wounded, but her eyes were alight with joy—and Yvlon saw her stop, spraying ice everywhere.

“Whew! Sorry about that! I thought I was going to die. Like the trick? I saw that guy die in Pallass and thought ‘I could probably copy that’. It’s cheap on the ice as opposed to a ramp. I think we’ll need it in Chandrar. Did you join Perric’s concubines?”

Yvlon admired the length of ice, which was indeed the world’s stupidest thing to zipline down. It was already melting, and Ceria had sent magical ice water spraying down across the Claiven Earth—she shook something out.

“Sorry. My zipline anchor’s hard on the hands!”

What had she used to carry herself down? Hopefully nothing as fragile as a piece of steel, which could abrade! In fact, Ceria had used something far sturdier. She had tied two pieces of cloth to a…circlet…which she now hung from an impromptu necklace.

Yvlon stared at it. Ceria leaned over.

“It makes a great doorstop too. Indestructible. Some of the older half-Elves keep trying to get me to toss it into a volcano or something. Anyways—”

She got no further because Yvlon hugged her. She swung the half-Elf around, and her arms were so tight Ceria instantly lost the ability to speak.

“Yvlon, you’re choking—”

The [Armsmistress] didn’t let go. Her metal arms were shaking. She had known Ceria was alive when King Perric told her. Believed Pisces and Colth and Ksmvr and Vofea would be fine—but Yvlon hadn’t realized up till now how tough she’d been making herself.

The half-Elf was patting Yvlon’s head, ruffling her hair when Yvlon finally put her down. Then Ceria inhaled—but rather than laugh at Yvlon, she looked up. The two adventurers who’d survived Skinner looked at each other.

“Made it one more time. I knew you’d make it. I wasn’t worried at all.”

The lying half-Elf with her lying pale eyes lied. The same eyes had buried friends, and Yvlon stood there a moment, breathing in and out roughly. Ceria let Yvlon collect herself. Then Yvlon tried to say something to break the awkward silence. The only thing she could think of was…

“Hello. My name is Yvlon Byres. I’m a member of…”

She got halfway through the speech when Ceria began cackling, and Yvlon gave up and hugged her again, but lightly this time.

“I hear Pisces and Colth are in Jecrass. You survived.”

“Takes more than a [Hydromancer] and a sword to kill me. Did anyone get that asshole? I knew you’d make it…but how’d you survive being drowned? Ksmvr’s ring? It had to be, right?”

Then they were both talking, and Yvlon saw an exasperated woman jump off a bridge hundreds of feet up and land, soft as a whisper, on the ground.

The Herald of the Forest folded her arms as Ceria jerked a thumb at her.

“So…funny thing, Yvlon. My brothers and sisters are, uh, really hospitable. But they keep calling me ‘sister’ and talking about the Crossroads. Looks like they want a favor or two of us. A paid job.”

She waggled her eyebrows at Yvlon, and the [Armsmistress] raised her brows.

“So that’s why you didn’t come get me. Here I thought you were stuffing your face.”

Ceria snorted.

“They get weirded out when I try the local bugs. So…thoughts?”

Yvlon eyed the Herald of the Forests, one of the living legends of half-Elves and considerably more dangerous than the other adventurers she’d met. She gave the half-Elf a big smile and held out her hand.

“Let me try. Hello. My name is Yvlon Byres. I’m a member of the Horns of Hammerad, a Gold-ranked team. Some may call me the ‘Silver Killer of Izril’, but I assure you, the truth is I’m hardly so dangerous. I got my name fighting in the Coliseum of Monarchs in Chandrar, and my team has fought everything from Adult Crelers to monsters in dungeons like the Ruins of Albez. Ceria and I must find our teammates. If you don’t let us leave…I’ll be upset.”

She swore she saw Herald Ierwyn’s lips twitch before the woman’s brows rose. Ceria began laughing harder, and Yvlon nodded to herself.

Ah, yes. Now this…

This was what the Horns of Hammerad were all about.

[Dreamer Level 9!]

Author’s Note:

I woke up at 7 PM today. I’m waking up later and later, probably because I’ve been pushing to get these edits done. By my count, it’s been…five days straight of work, and I’d guess it’s at least 5+ hours per day of editing.

So not that bad compared to some jobs, but editing’s hard. I’ve rewritten a few chapters of Book 12, and I hope to be done with a second draft on Thursday.

This isn’t about the Horns chapter. This chapter is a delightfully short one that I might try to publish every Tuesday as a contrast to the long ones.

But the edits? If I can send Book 12 to the finish line, I’m done with every single writing project with a deadline this year. It is going to be intense, so I’ll be on break till March 5th. That gives me time to take a real break and finish the edits.

I hope people will find the chapters a lot stronger now, and more gripping, especially to first-time readers. I’ll do a blog post indicating where the revisions are after my third revision pass, so people can re-read and judge for themselves.

I don’t remember my dreams, most days. Only that I probably had them. When I work this hard, especially at the end of my month, it feels grueling. I could take more breaks. Possibly, I should for the sake of writing quality and mental whatever. But other times I am reminded that almost all writers have editors and deadlines for a reason.

You’re always going to have to push. The bad stereotype about lazy writers procrastinating is partly earned because this job should be as hard as any other job if you’re taking it seriously. I blame common misconceptions and whatever’s up with Hollywood writers injecting their own weird stuff into popular media.

And poets.

…I wish I could do good poetry.

Damn the poets.

I’m tired. A few more days and I can rest. Back to revising. Thanks for reading, and get some sleep. Just not around High King Perric.

Watcher Tree by Enuryn the [Naturalist]!

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