Interlude – Vernoue (Pt. 1)

(By the rough count of Satar Silverfang and Yelroan the [Mathematician], this event took place around two weeks after the Palace of Fates incident. The full span of events likely played out over the course of a month.)

 

Vernoue the Enchanting was Calanfer’s most eligible [Princess] yesterday. It made sense; she was the eldest unwed [Princess] besides Seraphel, as the 5th Princess of Calanfer, and since Seraphel had been married three times already and was known as ‘Seraphel the Cursed’…

Well, it wasn’t something Vernoue enjoyed, having oafish suitors throwing themselves at her and pretending to know magic or anything of academia to impress her. She was the most stubborn of [Princesses], incidentally.

Oh, Aielef, Menisi, Shardele, and Seraphel had deferently done their duty and gone off to be married, but Vernoue, at the age of 25, had still managed to repulse her suitors by roundly insulting their intelligence and making herself as unattractive as possible—within reason.

Nothing like changing her appearance, which was up to the Calanferian standard of beauty. Even when she was at her most disinterested, Vernoue could be cajoled into sitting while her [Servants] fussed with her ruby-red hair and did something about the purple strands that crept their way in. She had huge, round spectacles which did make her look owlish; when she was due at a proper event, her mother made Vernoue either remove them or wear far smaller lenses.

Her servants loved dressing Vernoue up to echo her aesthetic, which she did enjoy. The magical [Princess] of Calanfer, the only spellcaster in the family, who could cast Tier 3 magic! She often wore robes or the aesthetics of [Wizards] or other spellcasting classes. Never the pointy hats; Vernoue thought they made her look stupid. She rather enjoyed having commonfolk come up to her, begging to see her magic and her enchanting small objects for them—a feat her parents approved of.

Obviously, she hated the courtship. The attention, the [Bards] singing tales of her, royal balls—ugh to the lot of it. It was just that…well, when something was gone, you noticed it.

The first clues were subtle; Vernoue woke tousle-haired from watching the latest magical lessons from Wistram Academy on her personal television-mirror, and her servants had to comb her hair into something respectable and get her dressed—but they didn’t rush her.

“No royal appearances or meetings with more odious men?”

She inquired dourly so that she could find a few scathing comments to throw at the latest suitors. One of her Thronebearers—they could all cast magic—produced a magical scroll and read from it.

“No orders from Her Majesty, Princess. Your Highness may have the day off.”

That made Vernoue smile slightly. More time off! Though it was confusing—Ielane was in full marriage-mode right now. The Dawn Concordat was still officially at war with Ailendamus, and while the war had calmed down enough for Aielef to return home…

“She’s been sending me off to every Terandrian kingdom with an army worth having. Aside from when we were in mourning about the war at sea, I was dancing or dining in a dozen kingdoms! She even bundled me off to Tourvecall!”

And wasn’t that unpleasant? Vernoue’s cheeks flushed at the memory, and her servants didn’t engage with that particular debacle.

If only Dame Ushar had been there. Vernoue glowered into the mirror as they applied makeup. Ushar was Vernoue’s most trusted [Knight], and if she’d been present, Vernoue wouldn’t have been so roundly humiliated. And insulted!

Tourvecall, the Kingdom of Incantations, had seemed like a dream appointment for Vernoue, who loved magic. But they’d all been so—so—rude! They’d practically sneered at her ‘weak’ mana pool and understanding of magic. True, she didn’t know Tier 4 magic, but it wasn’t like she could practice all the time! It hadn’t helped they’d all been mourning their delegation sent to the New Lands and angry at Calanfer for orchestrating the affair. Perhaps Vernoue had been too confident in herself, but if Ushar had been there…!

 

——

 

The second clue came just after breakfast. Vernoue sat with several court [Ladies] whom she had befriended because they could cast magic and were her age, and they always gossiped. Usually, Vernoue had half an ear for them, but today…

“Your Highness, there are a dozen new [Bards] writing songs in the streets. I had an earful of their lyrics—some of it’s rather bawdy. I think Lady Rouslin has it in her head to start another fad!”

“Oh, dead gods. What is it this time?”

Vernoue groaned. Lady Rouslin was a unique kind of class and noble to Calanfer. Unlike, say, the Baron of the Dance, who had a reputation for style and war, or the late Earl Altestiel, a credit to throne and country, Calanfer’s nobility focused on what won them prestige and renown in the Eternal Throne’s circles.

…[Socialites]. Lady Rouslin was a [Lady in Vogue], a rather humorous play-on-words of her class. She was so good at reading trends within Calanfer’s capital, and even across nations, that the royal crown had given her a noble title. They said she’d actually helped Ielane win Reclis’ hand and come to her current popularity back in the day. Whether or not that was true…right now, she acted as a loyal agent of the Eternal Throne.

If Rouslin spoke a name, [Bards] wrote it down. She could have everyone focus on an event or person, either dragging them through the mud or making them famous—even a [Princess].

The last time she took aim at a [Princess], I think it was Seraphel’s marriage into Noelictus. Despite her being the ‘Cursed Princess’, Rouslin had half the kingdom agreeing Seraphel was performing a tremendous service to the crown to be married into the Kingdom of Shade. They were throwing fetes in her name like she was some war-hero.

Lately, Rouslin had been promoting the New Lands—but it seemed like she had decided to take aim at Vernoue. The 5th Princess groaned.

No wonder mother left me alone today. I shan’t have a moment of peace even if I visit the local Mage’s Guild or go walking.

She did check her hair, though, with a minor [Magic Mirror] spell and made her curled locks levitate ever-so-slightly. And Vernoue was curious as to the songs…bawdy? She didn’t get up to affairs like Aielef—especially before being wed. If she lost her virginity, her mother might actually kill her.

For some reason, one of the [Ladies] was smiling as she watched Vernoue check her appearance. When the 5th Princess glanced around, the woman hurriedly spoke.

“Ah—Vernoue, it’s, um, not what you think.”

“Oh, not so bawdy?”

Vernoue smiled at her court-friend, and the [Ladies] sitting at the breakfast table traded glances.

“No…rather, the, ah, [Bards] aren’t writing about you. All the songs are about your sister.”

“Seraphel?”

Dead gods! Vernoue had heard she was alive and shipwrecked, though her parents wouldn’t even tell Vernoue where due to the danger Seraphel was in. She hoped Ser Solstice was protecting her—but the two [Ladies] glanced at each other.

“No. Princess Lyonette, Vernoue.”

The 5th Princess had been reaching for a delicate egg tart. Her mouth stayed open as she dropped it.

“L-Lyonette? But she’s—a nightmare.”

Honestly! She was! Everyone knew it, and the two court-ladies had surely seen ‘Lyonette the Fiery’, bane of everyone who could hear her, Lyonette the Peon-hater. However…one of the two young women glanced around and lowered her voice.

“I don’t know why Lady Rouslin’s gotten it in her head to talk her up, but the [Bards] are writing with a will, Vernoue. You haven’t…seen your sister, have you? Recently?”

“Lyonette? She’s keeping to herself.”

Vernoue answered automatically. ‘Lyonette’ was, of course, in the palace. Or rather, her body-double was. No one could know the 6th Princess was missing from home, in Izril of all places.

It might be an open secret to some, but in Calanfer, they’d done their best to disavow active knowledge of Lyonette’s disappearance. Her body double still walked around Calanfer. There had been…incidents such as the Bloodfeast Raiders shooting that Deathslayer arrow at her, but even then, Calanfer could twist things.

Maybe Lyonette had been in Liscor. And now she was back! [Teleportation] spells existed. She might have gone there on holiday and ridden back. Don’t question how far that was. Horses moved fast.

The royal line was that Lyonette was still the good [Princess] in the Eternal Throne, and unless there was another public spectacle, Vernoue expected that would more or less keep for the public awareness.

Lyonette. That idiot had caused so much trouble that Vernoue was actually used to the nervous serving girl who played her—and who was far more pleasant than the real Lyonette.

However—the [Princess] didn’t miss the look the two [Ladies] gave each other.

“I see, Your Highness. Well, some of the tales are fascinating. Ah, that’s all.”

Highly suspicious. Vernoue might be a disinterested [Princess], but she was still Queen Ielane du Marquin’s daughter, and she didn’t miss the way the two were dissembling or hiding something. Casually, Vernoue changed the subject and signalled one of her Thronebearers on the pretext of going to the bathroom. She sent a [Message] spell.

 

Find out what those two know about Lyonette. Oh, and get me a copy of some of those songs.

 

——

 

Forty minutes later, Vernoue was reading a spellbook in her private rooms, trying to memorize [Scrying]—so she could watch events unfolding around the world from her perspective. She had lots of spellbooks, most low-level because her parents wouldn’t pay for higher-tier magic, and she did know a lot of spells!

She had [Perfect Recall: Spells], she was Level 24, and she had Skills like [Radiant Mana Well], [Royal Casting]—which let her empower regular spells—and even, uh, [Detect Fame: Magic]. Which wasn’t useful except that it let her know if she was in the proximity of a famous magic-user.

A Level 24 spellcasting [Princess] was nothing to sneeze at! Okay, she wasn’t a Level 24 [Princess of Spells] or a Level 24 [Magical Princess]—and her real class was, um—

Uh.

She was a Level 24 [Magic-loving Princess]. She’d had the class since she was Level 14. Vernoue was sure she’d hit Level 30 and change it, and then she’d begin mastering Tier 4 spells with ease. It was just that between her royal duties, touring the city, seeing the latest inventions or magical creations, she didn’t have time to spend on Tier 4 spells. The crippling headache you got from mastering higher-tier magic—and she had to have a life—

She was almost onto something with this [Scrying] spell when someone distracted her, which always happened when you were royalty.

“Your Highness, your report.”

A Thronebearer bowed his way in with a sheaf of papers, and Vernoue rolled over on her couch, grumpy, as the magical forces she was trying to master left her mind.

“I was studying. Read it out to me.”

She didn’t know who this Thronebearer was by name. Ushar, as mentioned, was her main confidant; a [Princess] had to be careful with whom she trusted, and everyone knew the Thronebearers were first loyal to the crown in most cases. The man’s report made her sit up, though.

“Your two [Ladies] were not discreet, Princess. Ladies Anole and Guinere discussed their belief that Princess Lyonette is, in fact, a fake.”

“They what?”

Vernoue sat up, alarmed. That was bad and one of the few things that made her actually feel the need to do something. She’d have to grab her two friends and tell them to shut up before they got in trouble! The Thronebearer nodded.

“Not only that—when a third nobleman inquired, the two [Ladies] swore they had heard it from a [Bard].”

“Which [Bard]? Have you told Dame Vensha?”

They’d send the Thronebearers after that idiot. Was it a lucky guess or…? Vernoue was sure her mother would tamp the rumors down, but the Thronebearer indicated the folder he’d placed on her dressing table.

“Your Highness, it gets worse. The songs—”

“About Lyonette. Let me just [Speed Read]—what?”

Vernoue tore the folder open, and her eyes skimmed the entire page in seconds. Then she sat bolt upright.

“Where’s my mother?”

“We have already informed Her Majesty’s staff—”

“I’m telling her myself! Find her for me!”

The 5th Princess tore out of her chambers at a run. Then she ran back, grabbed the folder, and re-read the songs again.

“‘Duelled a Raskghar fang and steel? Brought a Wall Lord to beck and heel?’ Is this even accurate?”

It had to be a joke. Lyonette? Lyonette, who’d scream if she had to walk more than thirty minutes without a carriage? It sounded so stupid to claim she almost laughed and wondered how anyone in Calanfer could take it seriously.

 

——

 

Queen Ielane du Marquin wasn’t in the royal palace for once. She was, in fact, touring a memorial for the war dead—so Vernoue had to rush after her. In fact, the [Princess] wasn’t the only person to have noticed the gossip hitting the capital.

“Ellet!”

Vernoue spotted her younger sister in a coach as she rode across the Skybridge, and the two stopped. Ellet the Blossom, the 7th Princess of Calanfer, and the most adorable, un-cynical member of the family, brightened when she saw Vernoue. Vernoue smiled; all the royal family loved Ellet, who had yet to develop…traits.

“Vernoue! Please join me? I have something important to tell Mother. It’s about Lyonette.”

Ellet appeared quite worried. Vernoue realized even Ellet had figured out what was going on—of course, she got the same lessons as the rest—and jumped off her horse to pile into the carriage.

Okay, a Thronebearer and two servants helped her down and then she got in the carriage.

“You heard about those [Bards]? Well done, Ellet!”

The thirteen-year-old girl nodded.

“I heard my peers in our tutoring class talking about it. When I asked, they pretended not to know what I was talking about until I requested answers. Then they said they’d heard a rumor that the Lyonette in the palace is a fake! That a body double is hiding the fact she’s left Calanfer and is in Izril!”

That was…very accurate. It wasn’t like Lyonette had done the best of jobs hiding where she was, but Calanfer was a master of controlling rumors, so Vernoue began to sweat.

“I heard the same. Let’s tell Mother.”

Their ride through the capital was illuminating. Normally, people flocked to Ellet or Vernoue, let alone both of them together, but even the sight of the royal carriage didn’t draw its usual crowd of admirers or sycophants. If anything…the two [Princesses] swore they saw people avoiding them.

Half the people they passed were whispering almost furtively, faces aglow with excitement. But they pretended to normalcy the moment they saw the carriage—or a Thronebearer.

“I wonder what’s going on? I can’t hear anything, even with [Long Ear].”

Ellet was patently curious, but Vernoue was far better at this. She handed something to a Thronebearer.

“Here. Drop this behind us.”

It was an ordinary-looking stone that Vernoue turned into a one-way speaking stone. She did have magic…just magic convenient to her, not [Fireball], like those odious Tourvecall nobles asked about. The two listened as, after half a minute of silence, the stone was dropped covertly next to a stall where people were buying ‘baking powder’.

“…swear you can see it’s true. Next time the 6th Princess appears, notice how she’s less well made up than the 5th and 7th Princess? And she appears publicly so seldom! Think of it! When’s the last time you saw Princess Lyonette around the capital?”

“True…Her Highness always enjoyed the latest sights. But I can’t recall the last time I saw her about. And she’s far less, ah—strident than before?”

“Less shouting, you mean? She called me a peon to my face once, which, of course, was just the most shocking thing—”

“Quite understandable given her passions!”

“Yes, yes—but don’t you see? No peons, no riding, no—anything! Just look at her and listen to her voice and you’ll see.”

“So where is she then?”

The two [Princesses] exchanged an alarmed glance as the [Shopkeeper] lowered her voice.

“Izril.”

“Izril? Surely not!”

“I have it from a [Bard] who saw her in Invrisil—taking tea with Magnolia Reinhart, no less. And they have stories—is the royal escort still there? No? Well, you won’t hear the truly interesting details on the streets. There’s this pub, though, and they’re apparently telling stories past midnight. Here, I’ll write down the address. Don’t tell anyone, and of course, nothing’s proven, but I heard someone brought in a truth stone…”

“Dead gods. What pub? And you’re sure…?”

The speaking stone got too far away, and they lost the rest of the conversation. Vernoue cursed. She should have used [Royal Casting] to make it! But she could only do that once per day, and they’d gotten enough.

“Tail those two. Find out where that is.”

Vernoue snapped at a Thronebearer, who took two more of their number to shadow the pair. Vernoue bit at one fingernail before catching herself.

“This is bad, Ellet. Someone’s spreading rumors or…let’s hurry and find Mother.”

“Did Lyonette really fight monsters in Izril, Vernoue?”

Ellet’s face was curious and wondering as they rode, and Vernoue scowled.

“Lyonette? Can you imagine her doing that? No! I think. She—I don’t actually know what she’s done. I sent my Thronebearer to help her, and Ushar did say they were in a war.”

“A war?”

Ellet’s eyes grew round, and Vernoue preened slightly at knowing more.

“Yes—but she wouldn’t have been participating in it. I think. She has this Gnoll girl she’s looking after, and she does practice with a sword every morning…but so does Aielef! And she—did—meet a Wall Lord. And Magnolia Reinhart. It’s exaggeration, Ellet. But there’s some truth to it.”

Strange. Had Vernoue ever met a Drake Wall Lord? They didn’t leave Izril often, and meeting Magnolia Reinhart—even Vernoue knew her name. The 5th Princess felt a twinge of jealousy for a moment, then focused on the urgency. Her mother had to know—!

 

——

 

Queen Ielane du Marquin was actually with Lady Rouslin, and the two were speaking to the family and loved ones who had lost people during the war. The [Queen] and [Lady] had glowing flowers they handed out, and Ielane’s face was a mix of compassion, grief, and guilt—a masterful act.

Ellet and Vernoue hovered impatiently, trying to not take away from the moment, because they knew it mattered. Only when Ielane excused herself did they rush to some rooms and burst out.

“Mother, Mother! There’s a rumor about—”

“Mother, I’ve got my Thronebearers tracking the sources, but it’s all over the city—”

In private, Ielane du Marquin was far more straightforward and direct. Also, she liked to smoke, which no one knew—she lit a puffer stick and turned to Lady Rouslin.

“That makes three. Aielef beat you two, but I believe she was in Calanfer’s northern cities for an affair, so it might have been chance. Shardele is disappointing. My sons are not.”

“No expectations of them, Your Majesty?”

“They never took to dissembling in the same way.”

Vernoue and Ellet’s panic faded. Ielane knew? Of course she knew. Even so, Vernoue shot Lady Rouslin a distrustful glance; the woman was all smiles and made you feel like you wanted to trust her, but Vernoue knew better than to trust her instincts.

“Mother, it’s all over the city. I heard people speaking about private stories in pubs! If you want to stop it—”

Ielane did offer a rare smile, then. She turned to Lady Rouslin, who wore an almost mannish jacket and trousers of all things! Some Izrilian style, Vernoue was certain, adapted to be quasi-military. She did look splendid in it—Ielane nodded to Rouslin.

“One of your finer ideas, Rouslin.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Gossip is all very well and good, but nothing arouses the mind like being in a conspiracy. It is even more delightful to be opposing the crown—in little ways like this! Subversion of the law is a quality people enjoy, in a patriotic sort of way in this case. There are commonfolk as far as Solmenoi who are sneaking into barns at night to host these stories—some are quite artful about it.”

“More than root cellars?”

Queen Ielane raised one perfect brow as Vernoue’s mouth fell open again. Rouslin nodded.

“Some of them found some hollowed trees and used them to whisper to each other at night.”

“Hah. That is inventive. A good way to find more prospective [Spies]. Which is why I want the [Body Double] to perfect her acting of Lyonette. Vensha, tell her that there’s a rumor she’s fake. She’ll do her best, but nerves will betray her. If she doesn’t make a mistake in the next…week and a half, reward her after arranging a slip-up yourself.”

“Done, Your Majesty.”

Vensha, the right hand of Ielane, wrote in a scroll, and only then did Vernoue explode.

“You’re organizing this?”

Ielane sighed.

“Vernoue. Think of something other than spellcasting for once. A rumor this accurate and widespread had to come from the palace itself. Of course I approved Rouslin’s rumors. If you’d heard the rumor alone, you should have understood…well, you still passed Shardele.”

She seemed displeased at that and puffed harder, which made Vernoue think that Shardele’s Dreamleaf money would be cut this month. That small bit of schadenfreude was nothing to her shock.

Ellet asked the obvious.

“But why, Mother? Surely knowing Lyonette is fake will harm her suitors and the crown’s reputation?”

Vernoue nodded. Ielane was big on the reputation of the crown. Every member of the royal family was a piece to be used, and Lyonette being absent…they saw Queen Ielane’s face shift slightly. She frowned, took a puff of her stick, but didn’t immediately exhale. Instead, she spoke as wisps of smoke escaped her mouth.

“Circumstances change. It is better to use the truth to enhance a reputation, especially since the truth will out eventually. Suitors…can be swayed by a rare gemstone, however oddly marked, more than a plain, respectable stone. The truth is our asset, which Lady Rouslin is using.”

“Oh, like Lyonette fighting a Raskghar?”

Vernoue scoffed, unable to contain her amusement—and slight annoyance at how Ielane was talking. A smile from Lady Rouslin made Vernoue hesitate.

“That is a rumor, isn’t it? Or did she survive one of those…what is a Raskghar?”

“It is the utmost truth, Princess, as far as every agent I have assures me. In fact, Dame Ushar is another witness to at least one encounter. With that said, we are working our way up to the bigger truths; this skepticism and intrigue is precisely why it works, Ielane. If you have time, you should listen in on an ‘introductory’ meeting. The crowd knows Lyonette, and the [Bards] must win them over, but it happens each time.”

“Fascinating. I can attend tonight.”

Ielane flicked some ash from her stick onto a tray, and Vernoue hesitated.

“But she didn’t fight a…”

Rouslin’s eyes glittered.

“To my understanding, she didn’t kill a Raskghar, but it is amazing what I can put on a truth stone or against a truth Skill and have it work. I can, for instance, state that she has killed Crelers, Your Majesty. Or that she faced the Goblin King. [Factual Statement] allows me to guess, and what I guess—is so alarmingly true!”

“That I find hard to credit.”

“Difficult, but true. Whatever happened of late—”

Ielane swished the air with her puffer in a cutting motion, and Rouslin fell silent. Now, both [Princesses] were, like the folk of Calanfer, suddenly agog to know more. But Ielane’s face showed nothing.

“You have a break from suitors, Vernoue. Use the moment well. Oh—and if you should hear anything from Dame Ushar, report it to me. If you should speak to Lyonette, for instance—she has means to communicate—do so.”

Vernoue blinked. Speak to Lyonette? She hadn’t truly felt the need, but Ielane’s eyes lingered on her a second before turning away.

“Wouldn’t Ushar or Lyonette simply report to you, Mother? You are in contact with her.”

“Yes. I’m simply seeking alternate perspectives on their thoughts.”

That made sense—Vernoue supposed. She glanced at Ellet, and then both backed out of Ielane’s presence. Mostly to begin getting ahold of some of these rumors themselves.

 

——

 

Three days later, Vernoue experienced a rare feeling.

Not-jealousy.

She was not jealous of Lyonette being talked up across the kingdom. No, definitely not. Especially because half the rumors about her had to be fake.

“Oh come on. She did not fight Draugr. Those are Gold-rank monsters. I don’t want false rumors—and dancing? She’s a decent dancer, but with a Wall Lord? She can’t stand most Humans, let alone other species! And don’t you dare repeat that other—one!”

She threw a lap pillow at one of her servants and didn’t miss how the [Maid] gave her a searching look. Lyonette-rumors were all over the palace, and even the Thronebearers and servants seemed genuinely unsure which were fake and which were true.

Some had to be fake. Especially that last one! Vernoue’s ears were red, and she was used to hearing…

“Sleeping with an Antinium? Eternal Throne, that’s close to treasonous talk!”

“I am so sorry, Your Highness! But the rumor—”

“My mother’s not clamping down on that one?”

Each story was more insane than the last. Lyonette had slain a Daemon of Luck in the Meeting of Tribes. She’d charmed a [Lord] from House Veltras into proposing to her on the spot. She’d met the King of Destruction, learned how to perform an Oldblood Drake’s breath attack—oh, and they had pictures as proof.

Images of a certain red-haired young woman during notable events that had taken place at that inn where Ushar said Lyonette was. Usually just glimpses of her, still frames or moments where she very visibly ducked out of frame.

It was titillating, exciting, and the fact that the crown was denying everything and parading around the fake Lyonette to quash the rumors—unsuccessfully—meant everyone was in a frenzy about it.

In fact, no suitor had come for Vernoue for the last week, except to briefly court her, and then, after a rejection, go and introduce themselves to Lyonette! She’d had no less than sixteen, all of whom seemed keen on trying to prove the rumors false!

It was genius of Ielane and made Vernoue hopping mad with not-jealousy. She’d written to Ushar to get to the bottom of this four times, but the Thronebearer just kept saying things were a mess right now and she had no time, with greatest apologies, to even speak.

Even Ellet seemed a bit put-out by Lyonette-mania. She was a good-natured [Princess], but when a bunch of plushies of a certain white Gnoll girl started being sold—and bought—by [Ladies] her age along with dolls of Antinium, she developed a rather familiar, narked look. On a hunch, Vernoue investigated…and found one of the sellers was a [Royal Merchant] of Calanfer doing all the production and sales. So this Lyonette-mania was also bringing in gold to the crown, wonderful.

Or maybe it was because Ielane had less time to tutor her—she always instructed the younger [Princesses]—and she was spending more time in her study, plotting something.

All this to say that Vernoue was so heartily sick of the Lyonette-fever in the capital, when the best moment of her life came, she thought it was her mother trying to get rid of her because she was in the way.

 

——

 

“Shardele, you are to stay with Lyonette and tamp down on these rumors as much as possible. Public appearances daily. Sober. Ellet, I’ve arranged for you to tour Gaiil-Drome. You do enjoy visiting the royal family there—it will be a four-day visit. Vernoue, you’re bound to Pheislant.”

Shardele wore a sullen expression as Ielane gave out orders to the royals in the palace. She still hadn’t actually caught on that this was all an act and bowed her head with ill-grace, probably thinking this was necessary given the rumors. Vernoue and Ellet traded glances.

“What? Pheislant? Do I have to meet with some [Prince] for my hand?”

“No.”

Vernoue’s heart did a weird leap-flop at that, and she scowled as Ellet bounced on her heels, a bit excited to visit the half-Elven kingdom despite it feeling like Ielane wanted them out of her hair. With a quill, the [Queen] made a flicking motion at Vernoue.

“Pack for two weeks. Riding and travel clothing and your best spellbooks. You are to be on your finest behavior, and if you disgrace the royal family, this will not occur again.”

“Two weeks?”

Vernoue didn’t enjoy travel unless it let her find more magical books, but two weeks—she scowled.

“And where am I staying? Pheislant’s royal palace? The salt air will ruin my hair!”

“Don’t you have a spell for that?”

Shardele sniped, and Ielane silenced her with a look. She began to reply when Vensha spoke.

“Your Highness, another report from Liscor. Ushar.”

“I’ll take it.”

Then Ielane was standing and speaking into a stone—Vernoue couldn’t hear anything due to the advanced [Silence] spells. She was so outraged she remained as the other [Princesses] left. It was all about Lyonette! Lyonette! When had Lyonette become so…important?

“Vernoue, are you still here? Go pack. Your father had to personally work on this invitation. If you’re sulking this much about something you should treasure, I’ll cancel the vacation and put you on touring Kaliv with Aielef.”

Ielane snapped, and Vernoue controlled her face reluctantly.

“Go where, Mother?”

The Queen of Calanfer stopped and blinked.

“I didn’t say? Ah. To the Order of Seasons’ keep. They won’t wait on you hand and foot, but your retinue will do just fine. You are to meet with the Fall’s Sentinel, Ser Venoriat, and his season for magical study. He was amenable to the suggestion, which I understand first came from a Ser Ilm of the Order of Autumn and Ser Solstice. You’ve begged for magical tutors of actual merit for ages—”

Ielane stopped and Vensha covered her ears as Vernoue’s shriek of delight deafened everyone in the room. The [Princess] rushed to her rooms, screaming like a banshee. Before wondering if this was a way to get her out of her mother’s hair. But even so—

The Fall’s Sentinel? He was one of the most famous [Knight]-spellcasters on the continent! Above Level 40—maybe above Level 50? She could learn so much—

…Wait. She recalled her offer to Ser Ilm and the Autumn Knights when she’d been in the keep under siege. Was she going to marry him?

 

——

 

The Fall’s Sentinel was a man in his early sixties. Physically in excellent shape for his years and scholarly in build, despite his muscles. He had white hair, slightly balding, but he was clean-shaven, and his armor, which ran from purple to lilac, was splendidly enchanted. He himself radiated magic, and his aura seemed to be that very image of leaves crunching underfoot on a crisp, chill day as you walked down a forest trail and felt like each path into the forest might take you into a magical glade or face-to-face with a Unicorn.

Ser Venoriat had also clearly heard of Vernoue’s off-the-cuff proposal to Ser Ilm about marriage, so he practically stood behind Knight-Commander Calirn at every moment as if the Winter Knight were a chastity device.

The dour look of Knight-Commander Calirn’s expression probably could have worked as a contraceptive. The Order of Seasons was nothing but welcoming, though; they had fought beside Calanfer in battle, and Vernoue’s awestruck face upon meeting a truly famous spellcaster made even Calirn smile.

“I-I’m honored that you’d be willing to share your magical knowledge with me, Lord Venoriat.”

“A student of magic is always welcome in the Order of Seasons, much less a [Princess] of brave Calanfer, Princess Vernoue. I and the Season of Autumn shall be delighted to share knowledge with you. Doubtless, you have much to teach us all.”

Venoriat emphasized ‘all’ slightly, and Calirn bowed stiffly.

“Our keep is at your disposal, Princess. I shall apologize if I am not able to socialize often, but know we value our allies in Eternal Calanfer. Please, inform our [Knights] of any way we may be hospitable.”

That was her first introduction to the Fall’s Sentinel, and Vernoue didn’t understand at that time why both men were so reserved. Only later did she recall and put together that the Spring’s Warden had died fighting Dullahans during the battle at sea along with many brave [Knights].

The Order of Seasons was in mourning. And she…

Well, the Fall’s Sentinel was kind to her.

 

——

 

He had a lot of spells he’d learned personally from the Archmage of Memories, gifted to the Order of Seasons during the war. Advanced spellcasting—nay, refined spellcasting.

At first, Venoriat’s fears of Princess Vernoue’s attempts at marriage meant that he only interacted with her in groups with other Autumn Knights, who were all diligently learning the new magic from the Terras Faction of Wistram. However, after a few days of Vernoue badgering him with questions, he seemed to forget his worries.

Besides, she was so clearly agog by all the new magic that romance had utterly left her mind. He was the best magical teacher she’d ever had! No [Tutor] could compare to the Fall Sentinel’s wisdom; he drew magic in the air, and could even reconstruct parts of spells to show you how he was doing it.

Nevertheless, the problem was the level of spellcasting they were all trying to study. Venoriat was only too happy to tell Vernoue about it as she gazed, dismayed, at the writing on the page in front of her.

“Not only is the magic far more efficient than modern battle-magic, the method of study is simply sublime. A single page to teach a Tier 5 spell.”

“It is rather…complex. Normally it takes, ah, pages upon pages for such spells, doesn’t it?”

“Of course, Princess. A Tier 4 spell might take twenty pages; a Tier 5 spell writ in some spellbooks? I’ve heard a hundred. This, though, is battle-magic pure and simple. Ser Ilm was studying this single page when Ailendamus was sieging your keep. I am sure he would have furnished you with a copy had time allowed.”

“Oh, I quite understand the urgency of the moment, Lord Venoriat.”

And it wouldn’t have done her any good to begin with because…Vernoue had no idea where to even start.

Tier 5 magic? She was so far out of her depth trying to understand the squiggles on the page she felt like a [Peasant] trying to learn magic. Venoriat was no fool, sadly: he noticed.

“You begin with the introductory runes—here, Princess. It is rather compacted and overwhelming, isn’t it? But if you begin here, your mind is taken through the magical path, almost like someone holding your hand. Amazing teaching. It reminds me of the Rihal Imperium.”

“I do know them! Weren’t they amazing at teaching magic?”

Vernoue was relieved and almost shouted that out—the Fall’s Sentinel was approving.

“Indeed. This is [Starfall Comet], which exceeds [Valmira’s Comet] in potency despite being a Tier 5 spell as well—if I recall correctly, Archmage Eldavin furnished our Order with it when hearing that [Valmira’s Comet] was a common spell in our arsenals. He seemed to take it personally that we use a better one. Certainly…its devastation potential is immense. The Season of Autumn has been madly at work learning such magic, but I have hesitated to teach younger [Knights] this magic.”

“Why, Lord Venoriat?”

He smiled at her sadly.

“Fall’s Sentinel, please, Princess. I am no [Lord]—or we might do away with titles altogether. We are all spellcasters in the end. Why? Tier 5 magic. It makes the Autumn Knights deadly, dangerous. Assets that Pheislant might seek to use more of. We are killers in battle when needs must, but that is not all a Knight of Autumn should be.”

Oh. Vernoue knew how rare Tier 5 magic was, even amongst Gold-rank adventurers. The thought of [Knights] casting it…they would become feared among their peers. She nodded sagely and tried to start where he’d shown her.

She failed. The Fall’s Sentinel noticed and tried to walk her through the spell, but it was abundantly clear after a few minutes she had no hope of learning it. Even a Tier 4 scroll he produced was almost incomprehensible to her. And scrolls were meant to just push the information into your head because they were one-use!

“I’ve studied magic! Truly! I just—I didn’t have time to study advanced Tier 4 spells, so I’ve studied Tier 2 magic mostly.”

She was almost in tears, and the Fall’s Sentinel stroked his chin for a moment before giving her a grandfatherly smile.

“We all learn magic at our own pace, Your Highness. I didn’t master Tier 4 magic until I was thirty. I was a haughty Knight of Summers, riding about and hitting things with a mace, until I realized I wasn’t actually as good as I thought. If you have two weeks in our company, let us make learning Tier 4 magic a goal, then.”

 

——

 

It was ambitious, but Vernoue quickly got into the idea of learning a Tier 4 spell in two weeks. That would make her a prodigy, and she threw herself into studying with the cloisters of [Knights] who enmeshed themselves in spellbooks.

They had other passions; they trained like all the other Seasons, but Autumn Knights were encouraged to be multi-discipline masters. So many were part-[Alchemists], had gardens of mushrooms, plants, or even practiced talents like [Bards] playing instruments or even needlework.

All things could become magic, after all. Vernoue’s problem was twofold and quite apparent after three days.

Firstly—she had no cross-discipline training. She was a [Princess] and could hold her own in subterfuge, statecraft, etiquette, and so on, but she had zero knowledge in alchemy, scribing, or many other fields.

Second—Vernoue’s ability to concentrate for hours on end was hampered significantly by her lifestyle. She was so used to being interrupted, she realized she could barely study for more than one or two hours before getting distracted.

Among non-magic users, this was fine and still made her studious. In the company of a group of spellcasters, even hybrid spellcasters? It was so embarrassing to falter and see [Magic Squires] passing her in their studies.

Especially because this was all new magic from the Terras faction in Wistram! The Order of Seasons was, in fact, hugely favored by them because of their connection with the Archmage of Memories, and he had given them all kinds of new magic. Efficient teleportation, techniques to shape mana and even create it, high-level spells—

This was like being at Wistram, a resurgence in magic, and Vernoue couldn’t read or use any of it.

She started hiding in her rooms, feigning sickness, rather than have to go out and waste the kindly Fall Sentinel’s time. Even worse was when Queen Ielane called her and clearly had been told that Vernoue was overwhelmed.

“I half-expected you to try to seduce him.”

“Mother, he’s sixty-two!”

Vernoue shrieked into a speaking stone, and Ielane’s voice was cool.

“You didn’t seem to have a problem suggesting it to Autumn Knights directly. Normally, I would veto any such idea, but he is poised to become an even more exceptional spellcaster thanks to his bond with the Archmage of Memories. Is he interested?”

“No! He’s polite and kind and—”

The 5th Princess almost felt like crying. Ielane hmmed.

“Single, without a habit of casual relationships as I’ve been informed the late Spring’s Warden and Summer’s Champion were fond of. I had an intelligence report pulled for you—he doesn’t attend brothels. Likely, you’d have a shot if you made it abundantly clear you were interested in him purely for passion.”

“Mother!”

It was hugely embarrassing to think of doing that to the Fall’s Sentinel. His genuine kindliness had upbraided Vernoue’s usual instincts, but not Ielane’s.

“If I thought you had a chance, I would put your name forwards with the Archmage of Memories. Regrettably, I think there’s too much competition, but I will keep it in mind. Consider the option, Vernoue. I give approval for you to have sex with him—that would make it rather permanent, as the Order of Seasons takes their codes of honor seriously.”

That—shut Vernoue down on so many levels she didn’t really have a response. Her mother giving tacit approval was something Vernoue didn’t need, and also—it hurt. It hurt, because Ielane had done some calculations and clearly thought that Vernoue landing a match with the Fall’s Sentinel would be worth the use of a [Princess] of Calanfer.

Is that all I’m worth? Vernoue knew she was difficult and had refused suitors, but she’d always assumed that if Ielane found a match truly worthwhile…she’d force Vernoue into it. And with respect to the Fall’s Sentinel—wasn’t Vernoue worth more?

 

——

 

She peered at him during their study-session on the 5th day, when she went back to trying to learn magic. Vernoue was trying to learn [Invisibility], a staple spell she’d never learned because, well, it was damn complex, even for Tier 4 magic. Two weeks was insanely ambitious, even with Venoriat, who knew the magic, teaching her.

He wasn’t…unhandsome. And he was a splendid leader of his Season of Autumn. Even in grieving, he seemed aware of the younger [Knights]’ moods, especially those of the Season of Spring. She’d seen him talking to the angry [Knights], and rather than counselling pure calm given their grief over losing the Spring’s Warden, he’d given them quests.

Hard quests, to slay monsters or to achieve personal goals, and if they succeeded, he had promised the next ship to reinforce Ser Greysten in the New Lands would have them on it. He spoke well, and she imagined he wouldn’t be…bad.

Not as bad as some matches could be. She’d heard stories. None of her sisters were happy in their marriages—not happy like a storybook marriage. If she could live here in this keep, surrounded by magic…

“Fall’s Sentinel? Are you sure you should spend so much time on me? I’m sure Ser Ilm or—another [Knight] could teach me.”

He smiled at her kindly as they worked under the steady glow of a [Light] spell. His study abounded with books, and they sat next to a heatless fire he’d conjured. His room was filled with magical items or trophies he’d taken, and Vernoue stared at a frozen shard of ice he’d taken from Cenidau and wondered about his exploits. He was very humble.

“Ah, but for a [Princess], I believe anything less would be an insult. And you are a good student.”

She flushed and ducked her head.

“I’m not nearly as dedicated as even your [Squires], Fall’s Sentinel.”

He chuckled, and she feared he was making fun of her until he shook his head.

“Your Highness Vernoue. You say that so shamefaced, and it is true that you may fall behind them in some ways. But we do not measure ourselves against other people fairly. You are a [Princess]. Which confers many blessings of status and rank—and disadvantages. Has any one of my [Squires] ever had to study magic after a day of giving speeches, preparing oneself in makeup and finery, and performing the affairs of state? How well might they fare then?”

That—cheered her up. Vernoue smiled shyly and brushed at her hair. She glanced at Ser Venoriat and saw him almost glowing. To her eyes, and to her [Detect Fame: Magic] Skill, he glowed more brightly than anyone except Archmage Viltach, and she’d only met him once at a ball.

“Have you…done much to advance magic yourself, Fall’s Sentinel?”

He chuckled ruefully as she fiddled with her dress.

“Me? Hardly anything. I have studied it intensively—after my youth as an ambitious Summer’s Knight, of course. But that is merely, what? Thirty years. Merely thirty years for a Human. I took some training because I had the gift as a younger [Knight], but I did not do much beyond learning spells.”

“Surely you did something—”

Venoriat paused, then, embarrassed, stood and stared out the window, hands folded behind his back.

“Well, when I realized where my gifts lay, I was truly embarrassed. So, as Autumn Knights do, I quested in search of knowledge. In Kaaz. The Eternal Dungeon was my haunt for half a decade; it spawns spell scrolls, you see. Random treasures guarded by monsters. I made something of a name for myself, hunting for spells. Two of them were unique, and I sent them back to my Season and established a name for myself. As for the rest? I participated in hunts for magic or traded it. I have been to Izril, Chandrar—I never quite managed Baleros, but I thought it was a waste. Drath, though they were sparing with what they traded—”

“So you’ve been across the world. I wish I had done anything for magic half as grand. I—I rather confess I admired the idea of you, Fall’s Sentinel. But in person, you are also someone I wished to befriend.”

He smiled, eyes on the courtyards ablaze with candles of mourning and [Knights], training even in the darkness, auras burning with their seasons.

“I thank you for that, Princess. In truth, I was somewhat hesitant to invite you to the Order of Seasons, despite our newfound bonds. Ser Ilm related an amusing story to me in the keep which I’m sure you recall. An offer greatly appreciated by my ego, but inappropriate—for you, you understand.”

He half-turned, and Vernoue blinked at him. Her riding dress had somehow slipped, exposing her bosom.

“I can’t imagine I would be at all offended, Fall’s Sentinel. I may have meant what I said in jest, but surely it wasn’t that unpleasant a suggestion? In fact, after meeting with you in person, I stand by—Fall’s Sentinel? What are you—?”

He did stare at her chest for a moment, which she found gratifying. Right up until he unlatched the window and jumped.

Vernoue rushed to the window—they were on the third floor of the keep—and saw him [Featherfalling]. She cursed and buried her head in her arms.

That night, Ser Venoriat offered her his condolences on his sudden emergency visit to the privy, and thereafter, they conducted their study sessions in the library or public spaces. Second, and even more harrowing—her mother sent her a step-by-step instruction on how to succeed a second attempt.

The worst part was that Vernoue was actually considering it a week into her stay at the keep when the call happened.

 

——

 

Nothing Ielane du Marquin did was ever wrong. Sometimes cruel or painful for those involved, but it worked.

If Vernoue wanted to tie herself to the Fall’s Sentinel, she just had to do a few things. Like, say, show up to his rooms and demand to know if she was that repulsive—not drunk—and then disrobe herself in his presence. Speed was essential at that stage since he’d run away.

Then…well, there was a multi-step guide that was designed to manipulate his sense of honor and make it very clear Vernoue was serious.

The [Princess] was sitting in her rooms in the keep, which were quite pleasant, and thinking about it. Just…envisioning a life here.

It could be worse. It could be far worse. You could be married to that old man that Seraphel had to bed. Or shuffled off like Menisi, or married into some miserable fortress in Kaliv. He’s kind. He’s not unattractive, and he knows magic. You might not do better.

Ielane du Marquin, who knew her daughters and sons so well, would never see that blank-faced expression of someone calculating her own worth and her future happiness on a set of scales that Vernoue wore in this moment. Someone who knew the odds of actually getting better. So—she was calling for her best dress and a few potions when the call came in.

Skrtz.

Vernoue jumped and thought it was a bug at first. She stopped re-reading the seduction instructions and looked around. Then it came again.

Skttz. A weird, static-y sound that made her glance around. Then feel at her head.

Every Princess of Calanfer wore a magical tiara that protected them. Aielef’s had been stolen, but Vernoue always kept hers on. It was like her glasses: part of her body and forgotten. Until now. It was slightly…warm.

“Your Highness?”

A Thronebearer had noticed the magical artifact reacting as well and poked his head in. Vernoue spoke.

“Eavesdropping or something. I actually configure my circlet, unlike my sisters, so it’s been set to block a wider range of magic. I’ll inform you if it gets more annoying.”

“Very good, Your Highness.”

That was it. Vernoue went back to lying down and thinking—until the door opened.

“Your Highness, it appears someone wishes to speak to you from The Wandering Inn, Liscor. They have requested a formal meeting via Dame Ushar, who wishes you to take the meeting if you are available.”

“What?”

She sat up, surprised. Did they even have [Scrying] spells there? Mage’s Guilds were everywhere, but she’d heard Liscor was—

“Lyonette?”

The Thronebearer paused.

“Her Highness—yes. But I am also to understand that a ‘Mrsha’ is desirous of your time. They request a sealed room conversation. We are prepared to set one up.”

A sealed room conversation? Vernoue hesitated, but then she rose to her feet.

“I’ll take it.”

She waited impatiently for the Thronebearers to make her dressing room ready. And she was stressed about her future, jealous of Lyonette, unhappy with her magical studies—and all of that was mostly unconscious.

But it meant she didn’t really put together how Lyonette might be feeling at this moment, after the Goblin King had emerged in Liscor.

 

——

 

“Vernoue!”

The moment Vernoue walked into the sitting room and tapped on a gemstone set in her tiara, she saw the slightly-transparent image of her younger sister appear. Vernoue stared.

Lyonette looked older. So much older—she was almost a stranger to Vernoue’s eyes. Her hair was tied up in a simple bun, and she was wearing commoner’s work clothes! Some things were the same: she still had a [Princess]’ posture and poise, but dead gods, she seemed far older than—nineteen?

As old as Vernoue, if not more so. But her eyes, which had seemed weary, lit up, and she spread her arms up and dashed over.

“I’d hug you, but the World’s Eye Theatre won’t allow that. Vernoue, you look just like I remember! Where are you right now? This isn’t the palace! And you survived a siege and a war!”

“Lyonette. This is incredible. No [Scrying] spell could do this. You appear different. Is that an apron you’re wearing?”

Lyonette glanced down and brushed at her apron, smiling slightly embarrassedly.

“I was just helping our [Chef] make a bunch of bread in the kitchen. Training, rather. As for how we’re talking, this is the [World’s Eye Theatre]. The owner of the inn I’m working at—Erin Solstice—has it. It’s a Level 40+ Skill and exceptionally powerful.”

“Level 40?”

Lyonette said that so casually. But the younger woman was still speaking.

“Vernoue, I’m so sorry I haven’t—called. But I was afraid to because of Mother—Seraphel was the only person I talked to, because she was in danger. I should have contacted you. Dame Ushar has been nothing but a credit here. Without her, I think I’d be dead twice over. At least!”

“Ushar. Is she with you?”

Somewhat in shock, Vernoue sat down. Then Ushar appeared, and she jumped; the Thronebearer bowed.

“Your Highness, forgive my inattention to you. The situation here has been somewhat—troubled.”

Lyonette’s face fell, and she nodded.

“The Goblin King and…events. But let’s not talk about that. I have someone to introduce to you, Vernoue, but shall we catch up first? Where are you?”

“The, ah, Order of Seasons’ keep. I’m studying with Lord Venoriat, the Fall’s Sentinel.”

Vernoue mumbled, and Lyonette’s eyes opened wide.

“The Fall’s—! Rabbiteater met with him! Sorry, Ser Solstice. Vernoue, this is wonderful! You’ve always wanted to study magic! How is it?”

“Enlightening. I might marry him.”

Something was wrong. Vernoue’s heart had leapt upon seeing Lyonette before sinking into her shoes. Now, each passing sentence felt like a burning coal was being placed in her stomach and flaring upwards. Jealousy.

The Skill? Ushar being there instead of here? Lyonette didn’t notice. She was speaking so fast, as if trying to distract herself—

“Marry him? Isn’t he elderly? What would Ielane say about that?”

“Only sixty. And she approved it.”

“She did? You don’t—have to do it if you don’t want to, surely. Unless he’s that pleasant?”

Then the 6th Princess grew concerned, and Vernoue scowled.

“She’s given me the option. What, didn’t she mention it when you reported to her?”

Again, Lyonette’s face grew troubled, then hostile.

“I’m not speaking to her at this moment.”

Ushar bit her lip as Vernoue’s head came up incredulously.

“To Mother?”

“Not to Ielane, no.”

That’s all Lyonette said, but the mere fact of it—! Vernoue gave Ushar an incredulous glance. No one said that to Ielane. But Ushar just half-nodded, and that’s when the anger really began to hit. Vernoue wore a half-smile as she settled herself back.

“Well, I have, and Calanfer’s abuzz with rumors about you, Lyonette. Exploits of your time abroad—all rumors.”

“Oh dear, I would have thought that I’d have a body double and my absence would have been hushed up. Is it a problem?”

Lyonette frowned, but absently, and Vernoue’s smile widened icily.

“It’s not anything serious; Mother has it well in hand, you know her. But some of the tales—they said you fought a Raskghar and that you’re dating a Wall Lord. And that you have Tier 4 magic. I’m learning Tier 4 magic here, by the way.”

She threw that last one in purely out of spite. Lyonette blinked, and then she laughed before covering her mouth.

“Fought a Raskghar? Ilvriss? Those are funny! The first one’s true, only insofar as I survived that—the second’s purely false. I know a Wall Lord; he’s a great friend of the inn. As for the last…no? Unless—hm.”

Vernoue’s face went slack as Lyonette frowned.

“Ah. Well, I don’t actually know. No, it can’t be Tier 4. It’s just a Bound Spell. [Summon the Throne]. Actually, you wouldn’t happen to know what it does, do you? With all that’s happened, I haven’t even experimented.”

She chuckled again with that pained expression, and Vernoue’s mouth opened.

She has a Bound Spell ability? I don’t have one! Vernoue forced another smile.

“I could…look it up. You must have levelled, then, Lyonette. Capstone? Have you hit Level 20?”

Ushar. Ushar knew. The Thronebearer was glancing at Lyonette and Vernoue, and she could read her former mistress’ warning signs. But Lyonette was distracted, genuinely happy to talk to her sister, and Vernoue was too focused on Ushar and too far to be talked down.

“Level 20? Oh, no. I’m—well, I can’t say exactly, but I’ve passed that, Vernoue. I am hoping for another capstone—but not yet. I haven’t done enough yet, especially of late.”

Again, that hard-set look. And again, a shock rippling through Vernoue as Lyonette glanced to the side.

“Yes, I’m going as fast as I can, dear. Why don’t you come over and introduce yourself? Vernoue, I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Um. What level are you exactly, Lyonette?”

The [Princess] turned as someone padded into frame, and Lyonette was also a victim. A victim of The Wandering Inn, because she said this next part too casually with the air of someone who met with Named-rankers and legends of this world every day.

“Above Level 30. Ah, well, that just says I’m Level 39. I think I might get the next one soon. Vernoue? I’d like you to meet someone very important to me. This is…my daughter. Mrsha.”

She introduced a Gnoll girl with white fur to Vernoue, but the [Magic-loving Princess] wasn’t listening. She just sat there, stunned, hurt, furious—and then she began to giggle and laugh.

“Vernoue?”

Lyonette stopped, because at last, she noticed something was wrong. The 5th Princess’ face was pale, and her hair was floating as it did when she enchanted it—or when she was really angry. Her glasses were flashing, despite the light in the room remaining constant, and she held the armrests of her chair with trembling hands.

“Now I know you’re making fun of me. Enough games, Lyonette. Ushar, how much trouble is she really in? I’ll cover with Mother for you, but please, enough lies. And what is this? A Gnoll girl? Who did you steal her from?”

Lyonette’s smile winked out, and Mrsha, who had been shuffling some notecards and seeming apprehensive, glanced up at her mother’s face.

Hello, Princess Vernoue, I’m Mrsha, Lyonette’s daughter, and I’m very pleased to meet you. I have something important to say to you, and I hope you’ll listen and hear me out, please.

She held up that pre-written card, but what the girl did was edge away from Lyonette, whose smile had suddenly turned harsh. Lyonette took a breath, then relaxed and held out her hands.

“Vernoue. I’m sorry if I’ve sounded insane this entire time. Let me try again. I know this all sounds—incredible. Truly. I hear it myself, now. But I am working at The Wandering Inn, in Liscor. My level…I have levelled insanely fast due to the things I’ve survived. And this…Mrsha? This is my daughter. The most precious thing in the world to me. Along with Nanette!”

She brought the Gnoll girl back and hugged her to her chest, and Vernoue’s lip curled. Great, she’s found a puppy just like last time. No wonder Ushar can’t get her back.

However, she knew better than to say it like that. So Vernoue glanced at Mrsha, casual.

“Where are the girl’s…parents? Her tribe? Did you find her after an accident? Wait, isn’t she a Doombringer? I saw her on television.”

“Doombearer, Your Highness. Princess Lyonette, I can see that not all the information has reached the rest of the royal family…”

Ushar interrupted, sounding even more nervous, and Lyonette’s head rose slowly. However, she was mastering her breathing as if Vernoue were being objectionable.

“Her mother is right here, Vernoue. She lost her tribe, and I adopted her.”

“Er…you did what?”

“I adopted her. This is Mrsha du Marquin, and she’s my daughter.”

Lyonette’s voice was patient, and Vernoue’s—more so.

“Lyonette, that’s insane. You’re royalty. You can’t adopt a Gnoll girl. Mother will have a fit.”

“Mother doesn’t have a say in this. Nor have I heard any objections.”

The 5th Princess was getting a headache. She rubbed at her forehead, then adopted a bright, fake smile.

“Alright—I can see this matters to you, so I shall drop it. Hello, child! I am Lyonette’s older sister, Vernoue! Did you have a message for me?”

Mrsha nodded, looking very concerned as she glanced at Lyonette, who gave her a lot of teeth in what might be charitably called a smile. She held up a notecard.

Yes. This is hard to explain, Princess Vernoue, but I have a message to you from the future. From yourself, rather. I know this sounds weird, but hear me out.

She had incredible handwriting and diction—no, these had to be pre-written cards Lyonette had helped her with. Vernoue stared as Mrsha tried to explain.

A message to myself from the future? She managed to sit through three notecards as Lyonette nodded along seriously before Vernoue couldn’t help it.

She began laughing and waved a hand as she stood. Vernoue grabbed a pitcher and was relieved to find wine in it. She needed a drink.

“Oh, this is too much. Lyonette, please stop coaching your ‘daughter’ to tell lies. And Ushar, tell me how much of this is real? I have had a rotten week, and I’m in no mood for this. Get to what you want, and no games.”

She threw herself back in her chair, slopping wine over the cup’s rim and wincing as it hit the carpet. Mrsha faltered and grew wary. Lyonette’s eyes narrowed.

“Vernoue, this is no game. I realize it sounds bad, and I know what you must think of me—”

“Ushar?”

Vernoue ignored Lyonette and stared pointedly at her trusted servant. Dame Ushar hesitated, gave Lyonette an apprehensive look, and then bowed.

“This is all true, Your Highness. All of it. I pray you listen—”

“Ushar!”

The 5th Princess glowered at her trusted servant. Really, was Lyonette bribing the Thronebearer? Had she suborned Ushar’s loyalty? Then—the bead of suspicion became outright paranoia and hurt as she saw Ushar glance at Lyonette for direction. With uncertainty, at Vernoue—

Vernoue was too good a dissembler, too much Ielane’s child to not realize when Ushar’s loyalty had been shifted. She’d noticed signs, but had put it down to the speaking stone, distance, and hadn’t wanted to believe. But seeing Ushar turn to Lyonette for guidance—

Was the last straw. Then Vernoue went still and silent, in ways her sisters had learned to fear. Lyonette saw it and raised a placating hand.

“Vernoue, I realize how this all sounds. Ushar saved my life. I am eternally indebted to you, Ellet, Seraphel—we have survived a terrible event here. The Goblin King…is only half of it. Please, hear Mrsha out. She is my daughter, and I am her mother. I would die for her. I wish I could—but please. Listen.”

How Mrsha flinched at that, and Ushar. It almost made Vernoue believe she was misinformed, but if she believed that—her eyes flashed, and she said the first thing that came to mind, the most hurtful magic she could cast.

“A girl you’ve known, what, a year or two at best cannot be your daughter, Lyonette. I survived a throne-damned war. Don’t feed me the same lies about a Goblin King. Hundred Heroes take it, give me straight answers or I’ll let Mother deal with you! You have no idea how bad my week has been and—why is she writing on a card? Is she dumb as well as white-furred?”

Mrsha peered up and stopped writing. She gave Vernoue a wide-eyed look, not of hurt, but more of alarm. She began shaking her head—turned around—then ran for it. So did Ushar.

“Vernoue, be quiet.”

Lyonette stood there, blue eyes flashing, practically glowing, and her own hair had come out of the bun and was rising behind her. A stupid trick. Vernoue’s hair could float, and she sneered.

“Or what? I knew the rumors about you were false. Mother wants to repaint your image, but you’re still telling lies, Lyonette. You know your sisters can see right through you. If Mother doesn’t want you to bring back another stray, I’ll talk her into it, but drop the ‘Level 39’ act before I—”

“Vernoue. Stop. Talking.”

The words were accompanied by Lyonette’s hand rising and clenching into a fist. Vernoue’s smirk vanished. She felt a weight on her chest and gasped. She knew what it was—

Aura. She’d had limited training, but Ielane had taught her to resist—Vernoue scrambled to try and hold it off, but it was so—

They were a continent away, weren’t they? What was g—

Her winecup sprayed her with wine as it crushed inwards, as if under a gravity spell. Vernoue screamed and shot to her feet. Then she realized the feeling of pressure on her chest wasn’t just—an idea.

“Your Highness!”

The Thronebearers had heard the scream and leapt into the room, only to stagger and stare at the objects being hurled around the 5th Princess. Vernoue screamed.

“Lyonette! Stop this! I’ll tell—I’ll tell Mother on you! What stupid prank is—”

“Take it back.”

Lyonette’s eyes. Vernoue was jerking away from meeting them. She longed to slap the 6th Princess, like when Lyonette was throwing things and insulting everyone. Lyonette was the bratty disgrace of Calanfer! But it felt like—Vernoue made a mistake.

“I’m not apologizing for insulting that stray dog you found! Stop using your aura and—”

Lyonette’s face went blank. The aura pressing against Vernoue vanished, and the [Magic-loving Princess] caught herself, her heart pulsing in her chest. She smiled half-triumphantly.

Then her chair exploded. The rain of splinters and wood bounced off a Thronebearer’s shield as they threw themselves forwards. But even the superlative bodyguards couldn’t shield Vernoue, and without her tiara, the splinters peppered her. She screamed—then Lyonette spoke.

“Dame Ushar, I’m not going to kill her. Take Mrsha out of here for a moment. Nanette may stay. It shall be a lesson.”

Nanette? Vernoue was shrieking as her Thronebearers shouted in alarm—but Lyonette pointed.

“Move aside.”

They did. She stood there, apron blowing in the wind, and her smile was—Vernoue searched around for her tiara.

“L-Lyonette. Calm down.”

“Vernoue, do you remember our lessons on auras? We can throw them at anything we can see, even with the [World’s Eye Theatre], apparently. Do you remember how aura clashes work?”

Ridiculous. She was bluffing. She couldn’t have an aura like this—Shardele didn’t have an aura like this. Vernoue’s teeth were chattering.

“Lyonette, what’s gotten into you?”

“I met Marquin the First. I met the Goblin King. I’ve fought Raskghar. My only regret is that I didn’t know how to fight properly back then. I will, if I ever meet one again. You are going to listen to Mrsha and believe everything she says. I’ve seen Elder Crelers with my own two eyes.”

“Ridiculous.”

Lyonette’s eyes were glowing now, more like beacons of light in a black outline of her. The air was trembling. Vernoue felt breathless. She tried to suck in air. She was—blacking out—

 

——

 

Something is coming.

The air is howling. The 6th Princess of Calanfer is smiling like a Hell’s Warden.

Your heart can’t beat fast enough. Your lungs are filled with hot ash.

A Giant’s hand is holding you tight. Your younger sister is standing there. It feels like there’s an army at her back. Her eyes are blazing like dying stars.

She’s pulsing with authority. 

“Believe me,” she says. She wants to show you something. You’re screaming. A Thronebearer is being pressed against a wall. Another chair explodes. It cuts your skin.

She reaches for her heart and taps it. She’s filled with…determination. Grief. Loss. Will. Her heart pulses, and you go stumbling back.

“All of this isn’t enough. Not even a fraction of what I needed.” Her eyes lock on yours, and her smile looks broken. As if she’s lost something greater than you can imagine.

But her heart—thuds again. She’s stronger than you can imagine. Stronger than your Mother? Almost.

The door crashes inwards as a Summer Knight appears, sword drawn. He takes one look at the 6th Princess and gasps.

“Her aura—”

Her eyes swing to him, and flames shower down as that glowing soul clashes with the heat of summer. Another [Knight] emerges from the other door. A Winter Knight, whose shield goes up. Frost encircles her boots, and the [Princess] speaks.

“My daughter is the little, tragic heroine with a message for you, Vernoue. Listen to it. Or I’ll make you regret it. You’re one of her heroes. Live up to a thousandth of it.”

The aura lets you go, and you stumble, choking, crying, and the [Princess] stands there, blazing with her aching heart. Then she sits down and looks at you.

“I’m sorry, Vernoue. I lost my temper.”

Her heart beats again. The entire Order of Seasons hears it.

 

——

 

The 5th Princess of Calanfer, Vernoue the Enchanting, said not a thing for a long time afterwards. Her room lay ashambles. She had cuts on her skin from where splinters of wood had struck her, and her servants, Thronebearers, and the Order of Seasons’ [Knights] were utterly astonished.

Lyonette? Lyonette was ashamed. She stood like she had when she was in trouble, head bowed, studying her toes as she clasped her hands behind her back.

That…was all Vernoue recognized of her. The rest was completely changed. She felt like a fool, for Lyonette’s level and authority had quite literally knocked the wind out of her. It was hard to say who felt smaller, though.

Neither [Princess] broke the silence for some time. Dame Ushar kept clearing her throat, but she had no real floorplan to work off of either. The [Princesses] of Calanfer fought, viciously sometimes, and had destroyed rooms this effectively before, if not with sheer auras. The part where they made up…neither one knew.

Time would eventually see two feuding sisters tire of their hatred and return to politeness, or Ielane could crack the whip and put an end to this kind of thing. But Vernoue could count the number of times on one hand she’d apologized to Lyonette for any reason. Once. When she’d accidentally cast a spell that had turned Lyonette’s hair bright blue when they were twelve and six, respectively.

It was almost inevitable in the pained silence, then, that the Gnoll girl came creeping back, accompanied by a girl with brown braids and the ugliest mismatch of clothing that Vernoue had ever seen in her life.

She had found some kind of grand but old woolen cloak, russet brown, and paired it with a polka-dotted blouse. The dots were green, and the rest of the fabric was white. She was wearing purple pantaloons with moons on them.

“Hello, Princess Vernoue. I’m Nanette, Lyonette’s, um, second adopted daughter. I’m terribly sorry on her behalf. Things have been very tense here. I’m a former [Witch], and Mrsha’s a [Druid]. Lyonette often speaks of you fondly.”

“Ah…indeed. Hello. What unique clothing you have, Miss Nanette.”

Vernoue was afraid of saying something that might set Lyonette off, but a compliment about the clothing actually wedged itself in her throat. Your younger sister might be intimidating you with the threat of an aura clash, but war crimes against fashion were still hard to condone.

Thankfully, Lyonette seemed to have eyes, because a full-bodied wince passed over her face, and Ushar’s eyes rolled up, showing the whites. Nanette seemed quite pleased with herself.

“I got these from an antique store! It’s certainly eye-catching, isn’t it?”

She did a twirl, and Mrsha edged away from her. Vernoue stared at Lyonette, and the [Princess] spoke, avoiding her eyes for once.

“I—they’ve been through a hard period, and Nanette is a young woman who can make her own choices.”

“Except in fashion.”

Nanette jumped as Vernoue muttered that. Lyonette half-smiled, then glanced at Mrsha and Nanette. The two made encouraging motions, and Lyonette ducked her head again.

“Agreed, Vernoue. I, ah, I’m quite sorry about what I just did. I lost my temper. Again. I’m becoming something of a Yvlon, aren’t I?”

Only a bit, Mother. If you get cool new arms, we’ll call it even.

Mrsha wrote in the air with the same flowing script on her cards, and Vernoue blinked.

“Wait, that is her handwriting? It’s splendid! And is that a wand?”

“Oh, yes, Mrsha can cast Tier 2 magic. And she has her own wand—Mrsha, show your aunt, please.”

Aunt. Vernoue put the incongruity out of her head as Mrsha conjured some grass, then blasted the spot with a [Stone Dart] spell. Dead gods. She couldn’t be more than…nine! Vernoue was fascinated despite herself. She glanced at Lyonette.

“That’s incredible. She’s talented for her age. I couldn’t cast Tier 2 magic until I was twelve—remember the hair incident? I’m…sorry about my comment, Lyonette. Clearly, I was misinformed about the—the rumors. They’re all over Calanfer, you know.”

Lyonette’s smile was relieved, and the tension in the air ratcheted down slightly.

“The hair incident? I remember being so upset, and it didn’t change back for a month. I’m sure the rumors are overblown. Half are probably misattributed to me when they should be about Erin. My [Innkeeper]. My…boss, my friend, my—”

She trailed off, then pushed Mrsha forwards.

“And you are apologizing to Mrsha for calling her a dog, aren’t you?”

“Of course. I’m terribly sorry, my dear.”

Flustered, Vernoue bent forwards, and Mrsha nodded at her.

Don’t worry about it, Princess-Aunt Vernoue. I call Humans ‘monkeys’ all the time when I get mad. Equal racisms for all.

“Mrsha du Marquin! You do not!”

Lyonette scolded her, and Nanette giggled. Vernoue watched as Mrsha handed Lyonette a few notecards to verify her racism, and Lyonette’s scolding intensified.

She realized—both girls were eying her and Lyonette. Were they managing the two sisters? Lyonette’s expression became a look of chagrin, and she traded a glance with Vernoue. Then they began speaking, and despite the blow-out fight, it was like when the sisters would team up against an older sister and put aside their grudges and be, well, family.

“Does Lyonette really say nice things about me? You can be honest.”

Vernoue leaned over to whisper to Mrsha, producing a hand-fan that was amazingly unscathed to wave some air into her face. She was flushed and clammy from sweat.

She says you’re the ‘best of the lot’. Way better than Shardele and Aielef, and Seraphel’s gloomy, Menisi’s never there, and Princess Ellet’s a kid. By process of elimination, ergo and therefore, you’re the best. Especially because you leave her alone and you do helpful magic.

That was actually quite flattering. Vernoue smiled.

“Well, Lyonette and I shared the same interests. Our four older sisters were always the ‘grown-ups’. Only Seraphel would play with us, and she was mean.”

Lyonette sighed as Mrsha’s ears perked up, which was very cute.

“The meanest. Seraphel the Sharp Tongued. Dead gods, I can’t believe how—distinguished she is now. She’s hardly petty at all!”

“You’ve spoken to her?”

Vernoue was distracted, and Lyonette hesitated.

“Somewhat. She’s in Baleros, and she can never speak long—they have anti-scrying spells up, which partially block this theatre. It makes everything rather hazy and static-y. Did Ielane tell you where she was?”

“Baleros! Dead gods, no! I thought she was at sea or in the New Lands!”

“Dullahans are hunting her and her company, apparently. But she’s in the company of R—Ser Solstice and Hundredlord Cortese, among others. They’re trying to find civilization to leave the continent.”

Vernoue swallowed. She’d been so envious of Seraphel going off on an adventure. Now?

“Eternal Throne. Mother told me none of this. This Skill is so powerful, Lyonette. Can you talk to anyone in the world?”

“It can be warded against. Apparently, it’s altering an anti-scrying spell, so well within capacity for most decent [Mages]. It’s just that few people have an ability like this, so no one was guarding against it. And it’s not mine, again. It’s Erin’s. She’s the real source of all these rumors, Vernoue.”

The name triggered a memory, and Vernoue thought, before gasping and hiding her face with her fan.

“The…[Innkeeper] who killed Prince Iradoren?”

Instantly, all four women began clarifying that statement. Ushar, Lyonette, Mrsha, and Nanette spoke over each other—or waved a card about.

“Actually, Vernoue, she’s nothing like rumors say! She saved my life, and even if she knifed that [Prince], she was doing it to save—”

“Your Highness, I can personally attest to Miss Solstice’s bravery and generosity. If you would allow me to compile a report on her before listening to court gossip—”

Erin’s great! That dude had it coming! She also killed the Bloodtear Admiral! And [Slavers]! She’s three-for-three!

“Princes Iradoren was attacking Ser Solstice first, which I point out was a betrayal, and, if you’ll excuse me, Princess Vernoue, he even attacked your sister—”

The babble of voices made Vernoue blink, then smile in disbelief. Lyonette going to defend anyone so vehemently? She waved her fan.

“I’ll take your words for it. Truly—it’s only politics.”

She didn’t know Prince Iradoren; she’d seen him at a few banquets, but he hadn’t been interested in her, only her parents. He might have been inspiring and the hero of Erribathe and whatnot…but if Lyonette was so convinced, Vernoue would accept it.

Reassured, Lyonette smiled, and they went back to trading gossip. Then—well, it was rather like Venoriat and coming to the Order of Seasons’ keep. Lyonette tried, but the gossip Vernoue and she had were not the same.

 

——

 

“The Archmage of Izril is staying at your inn?”

Vernoue squealed, and Lyonette wore a dark expression.

“She is…but her continued tenure here is conditional upon how much trouble she makes for us. She has these dreadful experiments—the last one drew in a swarm of Acid Flies and a giant Acid Fly Queen! She casts magic, gives it out far too liberally—she enchanted Ekirra with [Levitation] when he asked.”

“Who is—”

“He’s a nine-year old Gnoll cub. And she raids rooms for underwear.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Vernoue was appalled and entranced by this frank picture of Archmage Valeterisa, which did meet the rumors about her. Mrsha and Nanette stood rather proudly.

“That’s why loincloths are better!”

They high-fived, and Lyonette shot them a dark glance. Then she began listing off other spellcasters.

“Magus Grimalkin and Lady Pryde were here until a day ago—they’ve gone into Pallass, but I see them all the time.”

“Magus Grimalkin? The Fist Magus? Is he as imposing as he looks on the scrying orb? And is he single?”

Mrsha opened her mouth, and Nanette shook her head fast as Lyonette bit her lip, clearly remembering Vernoue’s focus in life.

“Er. No. He’s quite taken.”

“Damn. Really? I heard he was…how about Glasiaad the Tome Magus? Named-rank in Pallass?”

Nah, Saliss is the only Named-rank who hangs out here, and he too is leaving for the New Lands.

Such names. Such—Vernoue’s heart ached. My sister’s an important woman. If not the most important, she was meeting people as equals, not a [Princess] in service to Calanfer.

“It sounds quite amazing. I should love to visit, if only to see you, Ushar.”

The Thronebearer appeared guilty, but at this point, Mrsha began trading looks with Lyonette and Nanette. The other two seemed apprehensive, but they nodded at her, and she stepped forwards as Lyonette cleared her throat.

“Perhaps that might be arranged, Vernoue. However…we do have an, ah, a message for you.”

“From the future?”

Vernoue smiled, because she doubted things could get more incredible. However, Mrsha wore a strange, serious expression, and when she gazed at Vernoue…it was like she was staring at someone else. It was an uncomfortable look, and the 5th Princess fidgeted. She had never had someone staring at her like they expected great things of her. With awe, reverence, respect, but always for her title and crown.

Never like they thought they might look up in the skies and see her swooping down to save the day. Suddenly uncomfortable again, Vernoue glanced around at the re-vacated rooms.

“Well, let’s hear it then, child—Mrsha. What could ‘future me’ have to say that’s so important?”

She tried to smile, and the girl pulled out a notecard and stepped right up to Vernoue. She held it up.

I know it sounds crazy, but I did meet a version of you that was…amazing. She helped save my life, and she sent a message back for you to hear. If you wanted to master magic, that is.

Strange.

What a strange day. Vernoue felt angry again, mystified—that frustration and shame that Venoriat and the Order of Seasons had conjured was warring with shock and awe. From seeing Lyonette and the depths of her convictions.

She’s almost aglow. She can’t even see it, but I can. She looks like those paintings of Queen Marquin the First. How does one become that? 

It felt like passion was burning out of Lyonette, a motivating force that Vernoue had never seen in a mirror—only observed in a few people. The Lightherald, Ser Solstice, even her older sister, Seraphel, when she’d ridden onto a battlefield.

Like an envious moth flying towards deadly light, Vernoue longed for it. So she bent her head, expecting some claptrap or generic advice. What she got was…

 

Fifty-two paces west from the midway point in the Mirror Hallway. Turn and it’s the fourth brick from the left, fifteen up. Take it to the owner and ask for a drink. That’s all you need. Prepare for suffering.

 

Vernoue blinked at the cryptic clue—and Lyonette studied the missive itself. Mrsha held up another card.

I don’t know what it means. But the other you said you’d understand it. Also, she had a list of names. Here.

She held up a list of a dozen names that Vernoue did recognize. Most of them were, well, spellcasters. It was obvious that Vernoue would know them, but such a list…her heart began to pound because some of the names were a bit—sacrosanct.

“And this is it? Are those—notes?”

Yep. I wrote down all I could remember. Actually, she said it so fast that I had to use a memory spell to recall what she said.

“Clever. Um. Ah. Could I have a copy of both notes? Let me write this down…”

Vernoue fussed with a sheet of paper, then folded it up and slipped it into her pockets. She stood there, utterly confused, as Lyonette’s eyes fell on the first note.

“That’s…I thought it would be more advice, Mrsha.”

Advice ain’t worth much, Mom. Ham sandwiches last until you poo. So you should ask for that instead, and drink more water so you’re hydrated.

“…That’s not a quote I taught you. Who told you that?”

Coach Joseph.

Lyonette’s eyes narrowed in a familiar way, and Mrsha seemed relieved as she turned to Vernoue.

“You…did meet me in the future, you said? What was I like?”

The longing 5th Princess of Calanfer gazed at Mrsha, and the girl tilted her head. Again, she glanced up.

Well, you could fly. You were pretty [Archmage].

Because she was writing, Vernoue’s eyes widened. She saw Lyonette’s pained face and Nanette’s guilty hunch of the shoulders. Dame Ushar met Vernoue’s eyes, and her lips quirked, as if to say, ‘you’d never believe it, but it’s true.’

Vernoue would have asked more, but that was about when Knight-Commander Calirn and Ser Venoriat interrupted the meeting, requesting to know what that aura clash had been. They took one look at the visitors from The Wandering Inn, and Nanette swept them a bow with her cloak.

“Hello, Knights of Seasons! We’re terribly sorry about the mess. The Wandering Inn has come calling upon the 5th Princess of Calanfer. Might we introduce you to the Grandmaster of the Order of Solstice if you have time?”

She looked so immensely proud of herself, and it was so cleverly done. Except—Calirn hesitated as he laid eyes on Mrsha, Lyonette, and then glanced at Vernoue. The 5th Princess just had to whisper from behind her fan.

“Lyonette. That is the ugliest outfit I have ever seen. Please tell me you have actual clothing for her to wear that doesn’t make her look like a [Jester].”

Lyonette smiled and whispered loudly back.

“I do, but she thinks she’s being unique. She didn’t learn it from me or her first mother.”

“Hey!”

 

——

 

What a to-do. What a mess. Well, not really; Vernoue had the servants clean it all up, and the Order of Seasons was understanding about the entire affair.

“An aura clash between [Princesses] would have been worth seeing. We study it, as you well know; I sensed the 6th Princess’ aura from all the way across the keep. Incredible presence to throw her ability across the world. She must have experience.”

Venoriat was as agog with Lyonette as everyone else. He was so distracted, in fact, that Vernoue’s attempted seduction of him had completely fled his mind. For her part, Vernoue was suddenly itching to return to Calanfer.

That message…

It was obvious to her what it meant, just like Lyonette. So she was all too willing to head back to Calanfer straightaway, even though she hadn’t mastered [Invisibility]. Venoriat invited her to study again, which was gracious of him, but now Vernoue was on the hunt.

Advice from the future? A future [Archmage] Vernoue? The thrill of the idea ran through her veins. She thought it was just like herself.

 

——

 

Consider the psychology of an Archmage Vernoue of the future for a moment. This would be the Archmage of Dawns in an alternate timeline where she was poised to battle the Goblin King, perhaps to the death, in an ill-fated last stand against a superior foe.

Thrust into such circumstances, she had seconds, perhaps minutes if you were generous, to formulate advice to give to herself at an unspecified younger age that would change fate in such a way that allowed her to master magic earlier.

A tricky puzzle. Very tricky, and generic platitudes wouldn’t have worked. Nor would have personal secrets or anecdotes ‘only Vernoue’ would have known; she would have suspected a trick or her mother’s hand in things.

The solution was actionable intelligence. Hence the list of twelve names and the cryptic clues. Now, both made sense to Vernoue; the odd directions corresponded to a certain corridor in the Eternal Throne.

The Mirror Hallways were the huge, silver mirrors that spanned an entire corridor. Clearly, she was meant to find something there; it was conceivable this could be a lie, but the rest of the clue was cryptic enough to arouse Vernoue’s interests.

As for the list…she thought she knew what it was for as well. Each spellcaster on the list was famously powerful in magic; Vernoue knew almost all of them. But—her heart was thundering in her chest.

Was she supposed to find and apprentice herself to one of them? Was that what this meant? Because if so, this was crazy. 

This is what the list said:

 

Ranked in Order of Success %, Best Candidates:

 

Izikere, Goblin Island — Bribe with honey. If they laugh you’ll live. If not, run away. (This is Mrsha, I’m writing down the notes exactly like older-you said; this is really weird, I know.)

Leireit, First Landing — Good for magical force. Accepts bananas as an offering. Get a thousand.

Rylev, Baleros — Likes foreign food…so Calanferian stuff. Get Mexte to give it to him. Hug Mexte for me. He’s either a Lizardfolk or turned into a Lamia. Gravity magic expert.

Cognita Truestone, Wistram Academy — Beg repeatedly. Grovelling and abasement might work.

Larracel, Izril — She might make you sweep up or charge a lot. (She’s also sorta grumpy. Lots of you magic-users are, huh?)

Tserre, Erribathe — A bitch. Tell her where her granddaughter-niece-whatever is and she might take you in. Ceria. (I know Ceria! Wait, is this right? Note to self: ask who Tserre is.)

Lareina Becerra, Chandrar? Adventurer. — Try to get to her before she hits Gold-rank. Could do Amerys, but she’s also a bitch. She’ll make you fight in wars. Make the King of Destruction laugh and you’re in.

Archmage Valeterisa, Her Island (she’s not there anymore, she’s in Liscor at our inn!) — Find Magus Montressa if the Archmage is dead. Don’t learn [Parallel Thoughts], it’s a trap.

Viscount Visophecin, Ailendamus — Not sure how you bribe him. Might be unpleasant.

Silvenia, Rhir — You’ll probably die, but she would teach you. Bribe with Earth boba tea. (Uhh…this sounds like a bad idea. I can help make boba tea, though! It’s nasty, but Mother likes it.)

Gaxiela, alias: ‘Galei or Taxiela’, Wistram Academy — Annoying. Worse than death. Just keep asking about their real name and it’ll bug them.

Grimalkin the Fist, Pallass — Too much exercise.

 

If there was anything that would convince Vernoue she was reading an actual message to herself from the future…it was probably the commentary. But insanity. The first and best option was on…a Goblin Isle? A quick check of a history book then revealed the truth: it wasn’t just any random Goblin.

Izikere was a Goblin Lord. It stunned Vernoue, until she thought about the missive.

“It’s probably how I’m thinking about it. I’d choose the fastest route to success. Not the one that I personally did.”

Vernoue liked, uh, giving advice she hadn’t always tried out. Like, ‘take a shortcut down that alleyway! I’m pretty sure your carriage will fit, and in theory, it’s the fastest way to get to the Merchant’s Guild’.

She’d never given herself advice though, and she began to think this was something she could work on. Even so, Vernoue’s mind was racing.

The Goblin Lord was obviously out. Although she was first on the list. Why…? No, but Leireit? Wasn’t he some powerful [Sorcerer] from First Landing? She had one of her servants look it up.

Bananas? She could get a thousand bananas if that employed a truly great magical teacher! As for the others—well, they weren’t Terandrians, by and large, which really surprised Vernoue. What about Archmage Feor, Viltach, or…any number of [Grand Magi] or famous [Mages] in Terandria itself?

The only ones even on that list were ‘Tserre’ and ‘Visophecin’, and the latter belonged to Ailendamus so that was probably out. Regardless, Vernoue organized inquiries into all of the non-scary members of the list. In fact, by the time her carriage arrived back in Calanfer, she had already sent missives asking if any of them would be so inclined to be her teacher.

Which was the problem, of course. Archmage Vernoue of the future giving advice to herself in the past presupposed she was any good at advice to begin with. Or that the world would be the same—or that Vernoue would act like her future self imagined.

By the time Vernoue reached her rooms in the palace, she’d been rejected by all but two of her candidates.

 

——

 

Grimalkin the Fist and Leireit the [Sorcerer] accepted her as their pupil! Vernoue grabbed the [Message] scroll the moment it was proffered to her and her face fell.

Grimalkin declined to visit Calanfer, but did offer her admission in his academy on a merit-based trial, assuming she made the journey to Pallass. He also listed supplementary exercises to ‘begin her fitness-based magical training’.

Sorcerer Leireit was far more personable, actually responded, and knew who she was! However, the rather slapdash writing looked like he’d personally cast [Message]. It read:

 

Utterly charmed by such a gracious invitation! Magical students are a delight. I haven’t had one since the last four ran off years back. A [Princess] would be a thing, and I do like bananas! Not sure about accepting them instead of gold, but we could work that out. 

If she can make it to me, I’m sailing off to the New Lands to see what’s what. I wouldn’t say no to a royal escort! And a [Cook]. And toilet paper. I forgot to pack any. Just have Her Highness pop by with those bananas, and we’ll talk it out! Kisses,

—Leireit, [Sorcerer] extraordinaire, etc. etc.

 

Archmage Valeterisa declined as she had one apprentice already; Viscount Visophecin’s people informed Calanfer that they were at war and he was indisposed, and wanted to know why he had been so honored by the privilege of being a magical tutor.

No good there, either. As for two of the people on the list…Rylev and Lareina weren’t in any records she could find. Not that she could ask broadly, but a few Mage’s Guilds didn’t have Rylev on the books in Baleros, and she tried three different countries and there was no Gold-rank adventurer named Lareina…they laughed when she asked if they could check for all their Silver-ranks across the nation.

Dead ends there, too. She could do a more in-depth search but Vernoue was hoping for an easier teacher, not one she’d have to hunt down. Unfortunately, Larracel sent her disinterest; and as for Gaxiela of Wistram…there was a note at the bottom of the [Message] scroll.

 

We have been getting illusory [Mages] harassing our diplomats in three cities for the last six hours about how you know that name. If you wish for a magical tutor, one of a higher level will be arranged. I expect a full written report of what your sister said to you by tonight.

—Queen Ielane.

 

That made Vernoue’s heart sink. She sat there in her rooms, then convinced herself that she hadn’t tried to reach out to the magical masters directly yet. She’d investigate the first clue…

Right after she lied a bit.

Just a bit in her report. Talking about future Vernoues was too crazy—even if her mother believed her, Vernoue wanted it to be her secret. So the 5th Princess lied the easiest way to Queen Ielane: by omission.

It was too simple to accurately describe the aura clash and even elements of the talk, like Mrsha handing her a list of potential magical advisors—Vernoue simply scribbled the reason down as ‘intelligence from The Wandering Inn’, which she rather suspected was vague enough to square with all the insane rumors coming from there.

She turned the report over to Dame Vensha, who gave her a rather thorough interrogation about what Vernoue had seen. Oddly, the Thronebearer wanted to know most about Mrsha and Nanette. Were they healthy? Hurt in any way? Exactly how did Lyonette look, health-wise?

That was hard enough, thinking that the older Thronebearer was merely interested in Lyonette and her daughters. But when Vensha turned her attention to Vernoue, it got worse, somehow.

“So you have learned no new magic during your two weeks with the Fall’s Sentinel?”

“I-I’m learning [Invisibility]!”

Vernoue defended herself with a sinking feeling and saw Vensha’s cold, grey eyes scrutinizing her.

“Any practicing [Mage] of Calanfer would have mastered a Tier 4 spell with Ser Venoriat’s aid. Your mother will not be pleased.”

“Not true! He says I did splendidly! I was over halfway there—”

“With all his guidance Skills active?”

“H-his what?”

The Thronebearer’s look of reprove was enough to send Vernoue spiraling. She spelled it out slowly.

“The Fall’s Sentinel is a masterful guide and teacher. He, and his Season of Fall, are quite able to empower students to learn magic. I trust you will complete your studies of [Invisibility] to prove their time with you was not wasted. Your mother expected your passions to be backed up by more effort.”

Vensha closed the binder, and Vernoue sagged. Then spiraled into hysteria; Vensha ducked an orb of light that splintered on the doorframe above her head.

 

——

 

Vernoue’s tantrum in her rooms lasted for sixteen minutes of wild spellcasting. Then she fled her rooms as her servants re-emerged from hiding, not sobbing, because that would ruin her makeup, but furious and hurt and doing what [Princesses] often did when upset in the palace.

There were two places you went. Library or kitchens. Or your rooms, of course, but you were never alone there.

The kitchens were the haunting ground of every [Princess] except Ellet. They all stole sweets and treats from the secondary kitchen where they were usually placed, or went to the primary one for food. There, Vernoue fled, but not to the main preparation area.

Most places in the Eternal Throne were converted from the magnificent Dragonthrone it had used to be, but the spacious rooms had been bare of actual objects until repurposed. Thusly, there was an original set of kitchens far humbler than the massive ones which could churn out food for banquets.

Like an inner courtyard, hidden by a side-door to the massive tables where dozens of [Chefs] could be working at once. They glanced up when Vernoue entered in a storm of bright eyes and red cheeks, but no one was surprised when she kicked her way into the side rooms.

“Head Chef! Head Chef, I’m back from my trip, the worst trip ever! I want—gelato! Make me a sundae, with—with eight scoops and covered in that whipped cream stuff and cherries!”

Vernoue practically screamed at the top of her lungs. Most [Princesses] were on a diet of some kind or other, and an affection for treats ran hard in the family, be it sweets or otherwise.

However, they knew they could bully the ‘Head Chef’ of the kitchens, an old Balerosian man—Human, but so wrinkled up and hunched with age that he sometimes resembled a different species altogether.

Head Chef Mexte hobbled out from the workroom where he wrote down the meal plans for the night’s menu, rubbing a cloth over his hands and smiling.

“Princess Vernoue! Oh my, oh, it is so good to see you! How was the Order of Seasons? You look terribly upset, young woman.”

She threw herself into one of the older chairs that creaked, but supported her weight around the far older, ancient wood table where the original kitchens had prepared meals for…well, nearly a thousand years to hear tell of it. It probably wasn’t the original table, but it was so scarred with knife cuts and food from countless centuries of preparations that like Mexte, it resembled something entirely different from the shiny, steel tables in the other kitchens.

“Sundae, Mexte.”

“Don’t I get a ‘please’, Princess? My, oh me, oh my, eight scoops of gelato and cherries? The first cherry harvests haven’t reached us yet…I’ll have to find them in the stockpiles. You look terribly upset. Were the [Knights] rude to you? I’ll write a letter, having our [Princess] of spells in such a state.”

He moved at a snail’s pace. Vernoue huffed as she folded her arms, wishing she’d had one of the lesser [Cooks] make her treats—but that would hurt the old Head Chef’s feelings. He personally served any [Princess] who came down here.

“Ser Venoriat wasn’t the trouble. He was perfectly charming. It was that hag, Dame Vensha.”

“Oh dear. Vensha again? What did she say? Let me just prepare that ice cream, Your Highness. How many scoops?”

“Eight! And hurry up, would you?”

Vernoue was crimson with shame and glared as a pottery cup, glazed so it looked like bright, multi-colored scales, was placed before her. He was putting on tea. He always put on tea, but at least Mexte waved some red teabags at her.

“Cherry-flavored tea, Princess.”

“And the cherries, Mexte!”

But now he was making tea, and she sighed and fidgeted, then spoke as he peered into shelves, searching for ingredients his [Sous Chefs] had put away.

“She—she said that I hadn’t learned any spells and that Ser Venoriat was using all his Skills so I’d improve better. Any regular [Mage] could learn [Invisibility] in two weeks, she said! I thought I was working hard, Mexte. But then I met Lyonette—”

She swallowed as her voice went wobbly, a terrible thing for a [Princess] to show weakness that way if it was actually genuine. Vernoue held the old teacup in hand, and some rye crackers appeared on the table with huge seeds embedded in them. They had an almond paste she scraped onto them as Mexte tsked.

“Dame Vensha is often unkind, Princess. I don’t think just any [Mage] could learn [Invisibility].”

“She said—”

“Perhaps any palace [Mage], but you know Dame Vensha is never happy. What did Ser Venoriat say?”

That made Vernoue think.

“He—he said I had made wonderful progress for someone who doesn’t normally study Tier 4 spells. Which I don’t! I know it was slow since he was learning Tier 5 magic, but I was working hard! I was!”

The Head Chef was nodding along, straightening his high, poofy hat importantly as he found a pillow for her to sit on.

“I believe you, Princess Vernoue. It sounds like Dame Vensha wasn’t correct.”

“She wasn’t! And—and I tried, but I couldn’t focus because I wasn’t used to it. The Fall’s Sentinel was…very kind. I almost married him.”

“Married him? My young Princess Vernoue marrying him? Outrageous!”

He sounded so appalled she rolled her eyes.

“Mother said I could. And he’s only sixty.”

“Sixty! My dear Vernoue, I’d be more fit to marry the Fall’s Sentinel than a blooming flower like you.”

The wry comment made Vernoue nearly snort her drink out her nose. She coughed, then glowered.

“Well, who else am I supposed to have? That’s not even the worst part of it, Mexte. Lyonette appeared with some Skill!”

“Lyonette! How is she doing?”

Vernoue spilled the meeting out to the old chef as he finally found some cherries and then laboriously picked out several bowls. When she reminded him she wanted the ice cream now, he protested.

“But Your Highness, what about supper? I have a fine meal prepared just for your return.”

He looked so querulously upset she relented.

“Oh—fine! But I want—”

“Mexte, Mother’s banned me from using Dreamleaf again!”

Shardele threw the doors open, and Vernoue jumped. The old man instantly found another cup.

“Your Highness Shardele!”

She threw herself into a chair, makeup running—Vernoue glowered and sipped at her tea.

“She said I was unobservant. And it’s all Lyonette’s fault!”

Vernoue realized that Lyonette-season hadn’t ended after two weeks of absence. If anything, it was getting worse. Not only that, but it seemed Shardele was being taken to task just as Ielane had threatened.

“Why don’t you tell me all about it, Princess? Your sister has returned from her trip.”

“Oh, hello, Vernoue.”

Shardele barely seemed to see Vernoue at first, but then sniffed, and he had tissues for her to blow her nose and begin to complain, which soured Vernoue, because she had come here first! She was opening her mouth when two scoops of ice cream appeared before her, with several cherries on top.

“Mexte! I said eight!”

“Not to worry, Your Highness! I’m just finding the other flavors. We have some lovely banana flavors I made up with some fruits from home. Where is it?”

She groaned as he tried to find other flavors of ice cream which were somehow not right next to the scoops of vanilla. Meanwhile, Shardele was begging for something, anything that would ‘take her mind off things’.

“Don’t you have something, Mexte?”

“Why don’t I check, Princess. Where’s your darling boy? And Vernoue was just telling me she talked to Lyonette!”

The Head Chef was so easy to sidetrack—both [Princesses] groaned as he began to check for two ingredients, getting the recipes confused. Shardele nibbled on a tray of freshly-cut tomatoes, which had appeared next to the crackers. Vernoue tore through her ice cream, but she was so hungry she munched on some braised carrots.

Commoner’s fare and far too simple, but the old man served the same snacks to everyone. Shardele listened with half an ear to the tale about Lyonette.

“It’s her fault I can’t have any Dreamleaf.”

“Why don’t you visit the countryside with your son, Princess Shardele? It’s a lovely time for it. The way the sky clears up, and it’s so cool and breathtaking—nothing like Baleros.”

He always complained about Baleros too. Shardele rolled her eyes.

“It’s not the same without Dreamleaf! Though I did find the most wonderful forest to walk in…I wonder how it looks regularly?”

“Maybe you could admire the sights. Her Majesty has been stricter of late, not that I would say a word against her, not Queen Ielane, Eternal Throne preserve her health. It must be her worry over your sisters. You mustn’t compare yourself to court [Mages], Princess Vernoue. Aha! I’ve just found the cream. Now, to make it whipped…”

Vernoue kicked her heels under the table impatiently, like she had since she’d been a girl.

“It’s not fair, Mexte. Lyonette’s getting all the special treatment.”

Shardele nodded along, chewing on lettuce like a very unhappy bunny wearing mascara, but Mexte just looked amazed.

“Has she? Didn’t we celebrate Princess Shardele’s magnificent new class last year? And I remember working on that four-layer cake for your last level myself, Princess Vernoue!”

“It’s not the same!”

They complained at him, and he bustled twice as fast around the kitchen—so at a regular walk—entirely dismayed by how things had changed, clearly for the worse.

Vernoue was so upset—and distracted by Shardele and the snacks—that by the time he found another flavor of ice cream, her stomach was already full. Eventually, she decided she’d wait for the promised dinner and started to slip away. Mexte beamed at her as he patted Shardele’s arm; she was still sobbing about her allowance being cut.

“Surely Your Highness came away with something more than your studies? Some new spell to show your old servant, perhaps? Or a friend in the Season of Autumn?”

She was going to say there was nothing—until she recalled the instructions she’d been given. The dismay over being upbraided by Vensha and all the refusals had nearly knocked it from her head.

“Maybe…something. I have to go, Mexte. I’ll be back for the six scoops of ice cream later!”

“Six! Oh my.”

Another expression of dismay before she was dashing off, spirits partially restored. She had more to do to prove she could become a great [Mage]! Although—getting to the Mirror Hallway would be harder than she thought. Because there were servants.

There were always servants.

 

——

 

Even when she ordered them away, they were around. Vernoue usually ignored them, but after six attempts to try and get whatever was hidden in the Mirror Hallway, she actually resorted to, well, magic to get her way.

If only she’d mastered [Invisibility]! Or had her Cloak of Balshadow. The entire family was supposed to have one, along with the tiaras, but these days, only a few [Princesses] inherited them from their big sisters. Lyonette had owned one, and Vernoue as well…it had been confiscated after Shardele, the traitor, had outed Vernoue for stealing desserts.

Without proper concealment magics, Vernoue poured over her spellbooks and selected spells, doing a few trials in her rooms to make sure it would work, then set out on her task.

She had enough money to have huge spellbooks, and she might not know Tier 4 magic, or even that much Tier 3 magic, but she knew 400+ Tier 1 and Tier 2 spells that she only needed to refresh herself on to cast.

There was a spell for anything, even if most were, um, slightly useless.

For instance, there was a spell called [Conjure Haze]! It created a shimmery haze effect that didn’t really hide you in a cloud of dust—that was a higher-tier spell. It was mostly just annoying. Or what about [Hover Curtain]? You could hover any curtain you wanted to see if the colors matched. Or, uh—[Stiffen Fabric]? Yep. If you ever needed to make cloth as hard as weak cardboard—Vernoue was your spellcaster.

As a master of weak spells, Vernoue did know how to combine them fairly well. So she cast [Hover Curtain], [Stiffen Fabric], and [Magical Pin] on one end of the mirror hallway, then ran to the other and cast [Conjure Haze], [Foul Scent], and [Spray Color: Brown]!

The net result was on one end a hovering ‘wall’ of a bedsheet that blocked anyone from entering. On the other? A fairly permeable haze of brown that smelled like, well…poo.

That’d keep servants off her for a tiny bit, if only to get something to mop up what they probably thought was a sewer leak. However, Vernoue couldn’t do more with the magic. She’d once tried to make a flying carpet with some of those spells—only Dame Ushar diving out a window had saved her from breaking her neck.

It bought her all the time she needed. Vernoue heard a few servants running into the magical cloth barricade and exclaiming. On the other side, someone gagged.

“Oh dead gods. It’s a cloud of—! Quick, get a mop and water!”

“On it! Wait, this is Her Highness’ magic.”

“…So it is. Ah, Your Highness? Can we do anything for—?”

“No, go away!”

Vernoue’s vexed scream made the servants retreat. As it turned out—well, it still bought her time. Furiously, Vernoue paced to the center of the mirror hallway where a slight join showed where the mirror was, in fact, two placed together.

“Fifty-two paces west…[Magical Compass]—aha! And then fifteen up from…drat. [Conjure Footstool]!”

That was a Tier 3 spell and left her panting a bit. All this rapid spellcasting. Six Tier 2 spells and a Tier 3 spell in rapid succession! Vernoue didn’t know how adventurers did it.

The brick that was fifteen up from the ground and four to the left was hollow. Vernoue knocked on it and then, to her delight, heard an echoing sound! But it wasn’t…her fingers slipped on the stone, and she realized to her frustration it was really jammed in there!

Even with her wand and a belt dagger, she had to drag on it to get it to shift outwards—it truly was too high and too slyly emplaced to spot, even for the cunning Thronebearers. Normally, they’d find anything within regular reach, and they were hell on spies.

Who had ever hidden something in the Eternal Throne so well? When Vernoue finally pulled the brick out, panting, she stared at the trio of objects, swept them into her bag of holding, and hurried to replace the brick. Then she dispelled her distractions and swanned back to her rooms, fanning her face, as the [Servants] asked if they could help her with anything.

Mission accomplished! Fine work, [Spy] Vernoue! She felt like she was sixteen again and giddy with delight. Then she returned to her rooms and her ebullience became…

Well.

Archmage Vernoue’s message to her younger self. The advice that might change the quietly miserable 5th Princess’ life around and make her the great spellcaster that Mrsha had met.

Did you really think it was so easy? Did you think you’d find a Djinni in a bottle? This is about family, Vernoue.

It’s always about family. And you don’t even know what that means.

The 5th Princess of Calanfer found a dagger, a bottle, and a letter. The dagger was long, serrated along one edge, and sharp—so sharp that even unenchanted, she nearly cut herself with it in her haste. The bottle was stoppered and sealed with wax, enchanted, clearly, for strength. A crawling black liquid moved along the glass. The letter—

The 5th Princess saw it said:

 

To Father.

 

She began to break the seal and realized—it was a royal golden seal, like the royal family used in Calanfer. The paper wasn’t so old. It—

Dame Vensha snatched the letter out of her hands, and Vernoue screamed as the aged Thronebearer took the bottle and dagger in the same motion. She hauled Vernoue up by one arm.

“Your Highness.”

“Vensha! How did you get in—let go of—”

“Your mother will see you now.”

 

——

 

Queen Ielane du Marquin lifted the dagger up and spun it on one finger—by the hilt, not the point of the blade. The little trick fascinated Vernoue, but she was trembling with nerves. I need that! How—how did Ielane—?

The Queen of Calanfer sighed.

“Vernoue. If you are going to sneak around, try to be less obvious than the Eternal Throne itself. Shardele is far more cunning when she’s desperate. Your servants reported you staring at a pair of notecards, and your antics with spells—if Vensha hadn’t been following you already, you might have harmed yourself. With that said, this is nostalgic, so I am minded to let it slide. Vensha?”

The Thronebearer proffered the bottle and letter. Ielane glanced once at the bottle, and her lips quirked darkly. Then she broke the seal.

“Mother, I need that! I was told to read it and—”

“By whom? Lyonette? I wonder how she knew this was here. Perhaps that [Garden of Sanctuary] or…perhaps she’s been speaking with the rest of the family. Odd. Note that, Vensha. Hmph. Well, this is simply intriguing to read after so long. I had wondered where this was.”

She put the letter aside after scanning it once, and Vensha bowed.

“A mystery solved, Your Highness. Very cleverly hidden.”

“Yes. Unlike some of my daughters…take this away.”

Ielane handed the bottle to Vensha, and Vernoue protested.

“I need that, Mother!”

The Queen of Calanfer raised her eyebrows.

“Do you? I rather doubt you know what that is, or you wouldn’t have been so cavalier about handling it. Nor do I think Lyonette intended you to poison yourself.”

“P-poison?”

The small jar of black liquid sloshed in Vensha’s hands, and Ielane nodded.

“Rather deadly poison. Creler’s Bite. Even inhaling it wouldn’t have done your lungs good. Add it to your collection or that of our agents, Vensha.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

The Thronebearer bowed, and Vernoue, utterly confused, stood there. Her mother knowing what poison it was didn’t exactly shock her, but a dagger, a jar of poison, and the letter…? Ielane sighed.

“You have no idea what this was in aid of. Hm. My daughter is playing a game more canny than I took her for, or she has no clue. Or else it’s that child…how intriguing.”

“Mother, please. I need that.”

“Yes? And why?”

The [Queen]’s gaze fixed Vernoue, and she squirmed in place before the words forced themselves out.

“I—I have to return it to its owner.”

That did make Queen Ielane blink. Then she smiled, almost rueful.

“That is entertaining. Very well. Take the dagger and letter. Neither one is worth much, though they are consigned to the crown as secrets of state. Do not let anyone see the letter, Vernoue, except the owner. Now go, and if you don’t wish to return to the Fall Sentinel’s tutelage, make up your mind about whom you would like to study magic with.”

She waved Vernoue away, and the 5th Princess stood there, confused, before snatching the dagger and letter. She read the opened letter on her way to her rooms, and then she stumbled inside. Dismissed her servants.

Sat with her face white and hands shaking as she understood something—that an older Vernoue had one day found out.

The letter was marked down in crisp, clear words. Not like how Lyonette or Mrsha wrote, but bold letters that anyone could read. Reminiscent of how Reclis wrote, actually; good penmanship, but divergent from the elegance of a [Princess]’ hand.

The moment she had seen the words on the front of the letter, Vernoue’s subconscious had begun to piece things together, but now she understood. The dagger, the poison. The letter was simple. It read:

 

To Father:

If you are reading this, I hope she is dead. Either she or I is slain, and I hope no one else except perhaps her bodyguards. Mark me, however it turned out, that I did this for my sisters and brothers, even the ones as yet unborn.

You speak of lofty principles, of the fate of nations and the duty of monarchy. She is the will behind your words, and betwixt the two of you, the royal palace has become a twisted and painful ground for any child to grow up in.

I learned the lessons well. Better than poor Shardele or terrified Aielef, and I am sick unto death. Agenote escaped, but no one else will. I will not wait to watch her grind down Seraphel, Lothen, young Vernoue and Kanmis, baby Lyonette, or whomever comes next. For the good of the Eternal Throne, I have done this deed. Pray consider what led your glorious kingdom of Eternal Calanfer to this moment when the finest act of a [Princess] is to slay her own mother. Is she the monster for being too perfect to your will, or is it you?

I only know which one I hate more, and a kingdom needs a head to hold the crown. So that is why.

—Princess Menisi du Marquin, 2nd Princess of Calanfer.

 

“Menisi?”

Vernoue felt lightheaded. Her hands shook so badly that she nearly knocked the dagger aside—then she sprang away from it as if it were the poison.

Creler’s Bite poison and a dagger that looked as though it were meant to inflict terrible wounds—poisoned wounds. An unenchanted dagger, because nothing enchanted would ever get close to a member of the royal family without scrutiny. But if you were well-placed enough, literal royalty, and you got close enough for a single stab…

This is insanity. Menisi plotted on killing Mother? Then this letter was meant for her corpse! But—

Vernoue read the letter again.

When I was a child and Lyonette was a baby? It had definitely happened. Ielane had said it was a missing piece of the puzzle. So this—this plot on her life had failed, and she’d never found Menisi’s dagger.

If Vernoue needed proof that Mrsha truly had a message from the future, or at least had knowledge unbeknownst even to the Queen of Calanfer, this was it. But such a letter.

Vernoue felt sick. Sick and shaken to her core. She had been led not to some great grimoire of magic, but to Menisi’s hiding place where she had stashed a blade to kill her own mother.

Why?

Then Vernoue remembered what she had been told.

Take it to the owner and ask for a drink. That’s all you need. Prepare for suffering.

Then…Vernoue began to feel truly afraid. Because that would mean paying a visit to the 2nd Princess of Calanfer, the dark horse of the family.

The one who never came back to court.

Who was never spoken of.

Menisi the Watchful.

Vernoue had limited memories of Menisi as a child. They’d been so disparate in ages…but she recalled attending Menisi’s marriage and the few times the [Princess] had ever returned to court. And the rumors about her and her husband…

The 5th Princess’ hands began shaking terribly. She licked her lips and started to compose a letter to her sister. It took her eighteen tries and four hours before she mustered the courage to send a [Message].

She wasn’t sure which was more terrifying as she lay abed that night. That Menisi would refuse to answer and crush her dreams and leave her to contemplate bedding Ser Venoriat as a happy outcome for her future…or that Menisi would meet with her. Vernoue had to fish out a map and trace a route east until she reached the coast. Then up, past Desonis, past the Lantocracy of Bitorm, and then slightly west. Nestled above the great Kingdom of Glass and Glory, a speck of a kingdom on the map.

Nomaudrel. The Kingdom of Passions.

 

——

 

“Nomaudrel? Why would you mention that kingdom, Vernoue? Why? Is M-Menisi coming to court?”

Few things scared Aielef visibly, but the 3rd Princess of Calanfer, on a visit to court two days after Vernoue’s discovery, was paling.

Aielef the Fierce. She certainly was bad-tempered, and she had a hawkish attitude about her. She was also one of only two [Princesses] with children; Shardele had toddlers, but Aielef had started on one of her royal duties the moment she’d been wed. Well, three now; Lyonette had two daughters. What a surreal thought.

Aielef’s girls were meek, and Vernoue only saw them at royal banquets; Aielef had trained them well, much like their mother. Nothing like Nanette and Mrsha, from the brief interaction that Vernoue had had.

She didn’t know quite how to bring up Lyonette to Aielef. When she tried, the 3rd Princess had been dismissive.

“Oh, all the rumors? Once I realized it was Mother’s schemes, I ignored it. She’s rehabilitating Lyonette’s image, just like Seraphel’s. At least Seraphel’s earned it. Why, has Lyonette done something else?”

Aielef was impatient, eager to get her royal duties out of the way and spend her time in her private pursuits. Likely one of her affairs—though she did seem oddly fit. She showed Vernoue a bicep with actual muscle on it.

“I’ve been practicing swordplay. It’s rather…invigorating. You recall Ser Solstice put me onto the notion? Well, that damn Vensha’s been hounding me like a dog, but I have been diligent! My daughters, Azole and Ayuse, take to it almost as much as Aumerth.”

Her son. Vernoue definitely hadn’t forgotten the boy existed. She made a polite noise as Aielef rode with her in the carriage. Little Ellet was with them, bouncing to ask about her nieces and nephew, but too intimidated by Aielef to talk. The 3rd Princess continued.

“It’s even made Ronnel chase after me. Kalivians are so…odd. Half my people seem to think the more muscular I get, the more alluring. I suppose they take after the Griffin Queen, but what if I have a body like that Sinew Magus?”

She seemed…slightly pleased by her husband’s renewed interest in her, but Vernoue didn’t say that to Aielef’s face. Certainly, Aielef the Fierce was more in character with the image she had cultivated publicly, but the mention of Menisi made her confidence wane in a second.

“What’s this about Menisi?”

“She’s not returning to court. I was wondering what you knew about, ah, Nomaudrel. Personally, Aielef.”

They all had an excellent education in the kingdoms of Terandria, but Vernoue was at a loss for anything detailed. Aielef’s blank expression clearly said the same. She snapped her fingers.

“…Ellet! This is a fine time to show us what you’ve learned in your lessons!”

“Of course, Sister Aielef!”

Ellet popped up like an excited bean, and Aielef smiled despite herself. Ellet piped up, clearly reciting from memory.

“Nomaudrel is the 2nd smallest Kingdom in Terandria, next to Tourvecall! It’s in the middle of Terandria, on the eastern side next to the Lantocracy of Bitorm. Bitorm’s on the coast then you go down to Desonis, and Nomaudrel’s to the west. Erribathe is in the middle, because it’s the best~”

She was singing one of the kingdom-songs you learned as a child. Aielef interrupted Ellet, a tad bit impatiently as the song played in her and Vernoue’s heads too.

“Less geography, more facts.”

“It has…it ships as many alchemical products as Ailendamus? It has more pleasure districts than any other kingdom, and it’s been censured three times this century by the Hundred Families for unbecoming acts within its domains!”

Ellet said that with a child’s earnestness, and it was Vernoue who blushed. Aielef blinked, as if wondering if a child should know all that.

“Er, yes, very good. It’s a major trading partner for Calanfer, Vernoue. Thanks to the deal we struck, we get plenty of goods, both useful and the kind Shardele loves to inhale. They have a reputation for, er, passions. Not like Kaaz, which is all duels and hot blood. They were founded by one of the Hundred Heroes, Mandrel the [Bard]. And Menisi is married to a Grand Duke of the realm. Lord Duke Naodin. The less said about those two, the better.”

Her expression suggested that Ellet would need to be ejected from the carriage if Vernoue wanted to go on. She hissed at Vernoue as she asked Ellet about her classes.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I was thinking of visiting.”

Aielef’s eyes bulged. She grabbed a flask from her side and chugged it madly. The liquid was slightly green as she wiped her mouth.

“Visiting? Are you mad—Menisi’s not likely to accept in any case. She hates us. You might be too young to remember her, but I still have nightmares of her.”

“Really? Why?”

Vernoue only remembered the wedding—which had been bad enough to stick in the memory. She noticed Ellet listening and recalled the girl had the [Long Ear] Skill, but Aielef’s next comment distracted her.

“She used to war with Mother. That was the only time I ever remember Ielane raising her voice. And Menisi—she was a terror. Back when we were all girls, they said she would inherit the throne, not Shardele. She could use her aura, and she was always faster than us at, well, everything. I was better at riding and physical things, and Shardele could be a better hostess, but Menisi trumped us at all else. She’d debate Father at the dinner table. You don’t remember any of this?”

“I was, uh, probably reading my spellbook.”

“Sounds like you. But don’t go looking for Menisi anymore. Don’t you remember the wedding? Griffins nesting, I’ll never forget her look—”

“What look?”

Ellet’s question made the two sisters jump. They smiled innocently, but Ellet frowned mightily.

“I want to know! She’s my sister too, and I’ve only met her once! Aren’t I a [Princess] of Calanfer? No one will tell me anything about Lyonette or Menisi! Or whether Seraphel’s alive!”

Her lip began to tremble dangerously, and Aielef and Vernoue wavered, then gave in before Ellet the Adorable. Aielef glanced around as if searching for spies even in this carriage. They were, in fact, all around them, wearing the golden armor of Thronebearers, but that was a given.

“Alright, but don’t repeat it around Mother. She and Menisi—let’s just say if you ever want to catch Mother in a temper, it’ll be by mentioning Menisi’s name. They had some grand falling out when Menisi was, oh, nineteen, I think? The palace was in uproar all day. All month, really. By the end of it, Menisi was married off to the Grand Duke in Nomaudrel, far as you can get while still establishing an alliance to Calanfer. Her wedding was so fast half the kingdom had barely heard of it.”

“And her face? What about her face?”

Ellet was drinking this in with both fascination and uncertainty, as if she couldn’t believe their mother would be mean to anyone. Aielef chugged more of the liquid in her flask and thrust it at Vernoue, who was very disappointed to learn it wasn’t alcoholic and was, in fact, salty and warm.

“She just—stared. Didn’t look at the Grand Duke, nor at the poor official doing the vows. She stared straight at Mother the entire time until the kiss. I swear, I thought she did have a Skill that could curse or kill. I’ve never seen someone appear that ready to do murder, and I’ve seen both war and people sentenced to death in Kaliv’s courts!”

Ellet did shudder then. Vernoue remembered that look as well.

“So you haven’t spoken to her since? Dead gods, Aielef, what’s in this horrid drink?”

Defensively, Aielef snatched it back.

“It’s healthy for you. Rejuvenates the body after you sweat out vital minerals and whatnot. I bought the recipe from Magus Grimalkin’s academy! Even Lady Pryde uses it!”

“It tastes like salted bathwater.”

“May I try, please?”

That took the conversation from Menisi, but it meant Vernoue was more apprehensive about this meeting. She didn’t tell her sisters she’d found Menisi’s intent to actually murder their mother. The worst and most terrible part was that Vernoue wasn’t even that surprised.

She…understood why Menisi might have done it. She didn’t even feel horrified in the sense of fear for Ielane, just horror at the deed itself. What did that say about…

 

——

 

Distractions! A [Princess] had her duty, and Vernoue’s duty today was to go and honor heroes of the Eternal Throne. In this case, it wasn’t even something her mother had ordered; it was a favor to Lyonette.

Aielef, Vernoue, and Ellet. Three royal [Princesses] to honor a single individual. Well—continue honoring as he’d already had his moment to be recognized before the Eternal Throne. But this was personal, especially to Ellet and Lyonette.

Ser Lormel had a daughter who was younger than even Ellet and hid behind him as he tried to stand and bow before them. His wife was a very flustered woman, a [Court Mage] who bowed over herself as he rose to his feet.

“Don’t stand, please, Ser Lormel! We’ve come to check on your health and bring you gifts!”

“Your Highnesses, this is an honor—you needn’t have come this far for me!”

“But I must! You defended my sister, and you’re a hero of Calanfer!”

Only Ellet could say it so earnestly that it made Vernoue and Aielef blush and try to be more official. They both curtseyed to Lormel, who was red-faced with embarrassment, especially because his fellow Thronebearers were also performing the same bows.

Hero of Calanfer. He’d have his name enshrined in the Thronebearers’ keep, and for his valor in defending a [Princess] of Calanfer from mortal peril, he would be given a handsome sum for the rest of his life. Thus, Calanfer rewarded its faithful servants.

However, Ser Lormel’s delight at being home, his love for his daughter, whom he persuaded to come out and thank Princess Ellet for visiting—all of it was somehow shadowed. It was only after Ellet announced she wanted to tour the house and both daughter and mother went to show her around so she could exclaim how wonderful it all was that Vernoue saw it.

“My sister, Lyonette, asked me to personally check on you, Ser Lormel.”

“Princess Lyonette?”

His head rose, and she realized Lyonette hadn’t visited him. Lormel felt at his arm, or rather, the stump on one shoulder. It had been lost when he blocked the Deathslayer Arrow. His face grew relieved—then pained.

“Has she—has she said if more Thronebearers have been lost in her defense? Ser Dalimont? Dame Ushar? I would have ridden to wait for Ser Sest’s funeral barge, but I was deemed unfit for it.”

Aielef spoke too loudly and grandly as she placed a hand on Lormel’s shoulder.

“Reinforcements are yet on the way. Worry not about my sister, Ser Lormel. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty for a Thronebearer of Calanfer!”

He bowed to her, but his face—was guilty.

“I missed the Winter Solstice. And more. If I had been there, perhaps—three Thronebearers wouldn’t have been enough to ward Her Highness.”

“You cannot blame yourself for that, Ser Lormel. You blocked a Deathslayer Arrow! With your shield and body!”

Vernoue reminded him, and the [Knight] half-smiled, but his eyes—they followed his daughter as she ran out of the rooms, following a giggling Ellet.

“My finest hour. Yet I was relieved to be sent home, Your Highness. I am called a hero, but I feel more like a coward.”

“Nonsense, Ser Lormel. You are an inspiration to the Order! Ser Sest, another hero!”

One of the Thronebearers spoke up, clasping a gauntlet to his breast, and the great compliment didn’t seem to even touch Lormel. He just gave the other [Knights] a half-amused glance and shook his head.

“That inn…and service to the 6th Princess illuminated me in ways I did not think possible. Your Highness. I am, sadly, ill-of-use until a magical prosthesis can be fit to me. Even then, I shall be a lesser knight. But I hope to carry some of the…”

He flexed his good hand.

“…need I saw into whatever I do next.”

What a strange thing to say. What had he seen? Vernoue remembered Lyonette and understood some of it. Aielef was clearly searching for more inspiring platitudes when Ellet ran up.

“Ser Lormel, don’t speak so! You must rejoin my bodyguard! I’ve missed you so terribly, and I’ll trust my life in your hands—h-hand! We’ll get you a new hand! And you’ll be my [Knight-Captain], and—and I’ll take your daughter into my service as a handmaiden!”

He bowed to her as she tried, so terribly earnestly, to give something back to him with all the power of a [Princess]. But the guilt…Vernoue spoke.

“Dame Ushar I had a chance to see, and she assured me Ser Dalimont is well, Ser Lormel. They are continuing the battle, and there are servants of Calanfer with Lyonette. Shall I pass on any words to her if I should see her first? Perhaps she might find a way to…call.”

He met her eyes, and that spark grew as he bowed again, deeply.

“I should be honored, Your Highness. I do wish my comrades-in-arms all the strength. It has been an honor to protect House Marquin.”

Sometimes…sometimes it was hard to be a [Princess] in the face of such earnest loyalty. Vernoue murmured her own thanks, avoiding looking at Lormel, and saw his wife’s expression of faint relief. A bodyguard-duty for Ellet was safe enough. That he had not gone back to Izril—yes, Vernoue saw the other side of Lyonette’s levels there.

And still.

She yearned to be half as bright as the 6th Princess of Calanfer. Perhaps the entire world was changing, from the New Lands, from Lyonette’s name being mentioned in a good light.

Or perhaps it was simply the future weighing on the present. For when Vernoue returned to the palace with Lormel’s assurance he’d be with Ellet once he was further healed and rested, a letter was waiting for her.

It was a pale pink, wrapped with a green bow, and pressed with a wax seal that almost seemed dirty, flecks of white wax amidst yellow and red. The note inside was simple, and that bold handwriting was again clear and precise.

 

Vernoue,

I don’t know how you found my letter. Come as you wish, and I shall host you. If this is your attempt at something, Ielane, don’t send her at all. You will regret it if it’s one of her games, Vernoue. Choose carefully.

—Menisi.

 

Well. That was ominous. Vernoue swallowed hard, then went to petition her mother for a visit to the Kingdom of Passions, Nomaudrel.

Rather to her dismay, her mother allowed it.

 

——

 

So…

Here was a question Vernoue hadn’t had to confront yet.

Menisi. 2nd Princess of Calanfer. Frightening, all but exiled, so on and so forth. Got up to—things—with her husband, who was not of good repute, and that was in a kingdom that had recently had a [Duchess] arrested for a party which had killed over a dozen servants.

Things were got up to behind closed doors, of course. You heard rumors of all kinds of fetishes or odd behaviors. Most of which was just—ignored or the subject of scandal. Who didn’t have skeletons in their closet? Ha…hah…

But Menisi had a lot of rumors about her.

How…how accurate were they? Because rumors, well, everyone said Seraphel was cursed, and it was just bad luck with her. They said all sorts of things! Like the King of Shades, Nicte Allorev, slept with spiders and that was why one of his daughters had mandibles. Or—or that the Queen of Morein was so unfaithful she had a dozen suitors in the royal bedroom each week!

Which Vernoue had heard was true. Scandalous.

But she’d never really seen the truth behind gossip before. As the day of her departure loomed, it felt like everyone in her life was determined to make this as ominous as possible.

The first bad hint was Shardele approaching Vernoue of her own accord. Shardele never did anything of her own accord. She’d happily smoke Dreamleaf while wandering through art installations in the Eternal Throne or sit in a hammock in her chambers and just swing and stare out a glass ceiling. But she came to Vernoue, smelling so much of Dreamleaf that the 5th Princess coughed.

“Vernoue! Are you visiting Menisi? This is a terrible, dreadful…you mustn’t! She’s a depraved woman. The things she and her husband get up to—terrible!”

Shardele was rather vague, and she was fluttering her hands so much that Vernoue had to seat her.

“Shardele, whatever they do in the bedroom is their—”

“Bedroom? It’s all over the mansion! With servants! And objects! And strangers, and I think animals!”

“…What? You don’t mean sex—”

Shardele took a pipe out from her dress and inhaled, and then her face vanished in a plume of smoke that made Vernoue cough. She was distressed.

“I visited her once after the wedding. To see…it was depraved. I saw it with my own eyes, Vernoue. She’s mad as ten vipers, and he—they’re violent in Nomaudrel. Crimes on the street sometimes. They don’t have Thronebearers, and their [Knights] don’t maintain the law. The Grand Duke was accosted by some footpads.”

“Oh dear. Well, I’ll have my Thronebearers—”

“Vernoue, listen! He was accosted and beat three of them to death with his bare hands! Crushed one man’s skull, and the other tried to cut him with a sword, but he’s so—and she’s cold. She was always sharp, but now she’s as cold as Mother. She said that if I ever came back as an agent of Mother, she’d take me to one of their ‘playrooms’ and—”

Shardele was shaking so bad she had to take in three more puffs of smoke before she calmed. Vernoue was unnerved. This sounded like it was rumors. You know? Not as bad as it could be, but Shardele swore up and down it was true. All Vernoue could say was—

“I have to see her, Shardele. I’ll be very careful.”

The 1st Princess left, shaking her head, and then Aielef came back to deliver the same warning, if not in the same terms.

“So, I hear you’ve been searching for magical instructors, Vernoue. Here’s what we’ll do. You’ll cancel this trip, and we’ll go to Kaliv. The Griffin Queen has [Wild Mages] in court. You could learn from them, maybe even adopt a Griffin.”

Vernoue saw a gaggle of noblewomen behind Aielef, who chimed in what a wonderful idea this would be. The 5th Princess folded her arms.

“Did Shardele put you up to this?”

“Damn, has she already come by? Listen, Vernoue, this isn’t a good idea.”

Aielef paced into the room, presumptuous as always, but her words made Vernoue pause.

“I didn’t believe the rumors about Menisi either. She was always very…proper. If she had any affairs, no one knew of them except Mother. So I looked into the Nomaudrel rumors. Paid for local intelligence. It’s…accurate. I have people there who swear some of the rumors are very true, and even if we discount half of it, the other half is reason enough not to go.”

“I have to know something.”

“What? About magic? What could Menisi teach you? She was always into the occult, but not magic.”

Aielef made a mistake as she tried to dismiss the reason Vernoue had for going, but that made the 5th Princess sit up.

“Occult? You mean, arcane?”

“No, I mean—oh, damn. Vernoue! This isn’t a joke! Her husband’s killed men! They live in a part of the kingdom known for being—extreme. Even for the Kingdom of Passions! Believe me, you know the most scandalous court gossip of being found in each other’s beds we have? They call that ‘light’ over there!”

No matter what Aielef tried, Vernoue refused to budge, so the 3rd Princess stormed out of the room, only returning to demand that Vernoue send Lyonette to her if the 6th Princess should reappear with her ‘magic communication spell’.

“I hear she’s calling herself a mother. Hah! Well, if she’s at all serious, she’ll need some instruction and [Nursemaids]. Dead gods, I can just imagine her rearing her children all wrong.”

“They seem well-adjusted to me.”

“Hmph. Just you wait until it’s your turn.”

With that helpful reminder that Vernoue had yet to do her part for the crown, the 5th Princess elected to research something of her own. A quick check of the royal family tree revealed that no, Menisi had not borne any children that would have Calanferian royal blood.

Was that good or ill, considering her relationship with the Queen…? Well, the last voice of dissuasion came from the crown.

 

——

 

Dame Vensha was Ielane’s right hand and often educated [Princesses] or took them to task in Ielane’s place. She was as fearsome a woman as any Vernoue knew, but common enough in this role.

Briefings. She’d tell a [Princess] what they needed to know about the court, local politics, or what they had to do and drill it into their heads until they wouldn’t mess up.

Vernoue had worried this would be the ‘interference’ Menisi had written about, but to her surprise, the opposite was true.

“Princess Vernoue, when you are in Nomaudrel, you will refrain from communications with the palace, except via your Thronebearers. You are not to send [Messages] back to the kingdom except for urgent matters. Any needs will be met by your Thronebearers. You will not interfere in any political events taking place in the Kingdom of Passions. Nor has your escort been equipped with any [Spies] or [Infiltrators] of any kind. Your servants have been strictly ordered to perform their duties without investigation of the city or household, and the Thronebearers will merely guard your presence, not secure the mansion of Princess Menisi.”

This was the opposite of what Vernoue expected. She blinked.

“Is this a trick, Vensha? Normally, you don’t even mention whether I have spies in my retinue.”

Vensha gave Vernoue a serious eye.

“I am informing you of this so you avoid any hint of possible action on behalf of the crown, Princess Vernoue. The letter was explicit.”

“Menisi wouldn’t…do anything to me, would she?”

The Thronebearer’s silence was a hair too long, and then she glanced at the map of their route.

“Princess Menisi has, over the course of her time at Nomaudrel, removed 54 agents of Calanfer installed in roles in her mansion, city, and even further afield. Sometimes permanently.”

Vernoue swallowed hard. That—was even more alarming than Aielef’s comments. Vensha continued, brisk.

“We are not hostile with Princess Menisi. The crown leaves her region alone, and the Kingdom of Passions is largely removed from Calanfer’s interests due to its size and—strengths. While you are in her presence, Princess Menisi has considerable power. A fact you would do well to remember.”

She glanced at Vernoue, then lowered her voice.

“Her Majesty is allowing this trip as a sign of trust between you and Princess Lyonette. You would do well to communicate that to your sibling.”

She was allowing this because she thought Lyonette was the one who wanted it? Vernoue was stunned. If Ielane knew this was Mrsha’s hint—well, her sense of foreboding was already high enough, but the pressure of so many warnings made her begin to dread the upcoming trip so much she couldn’t sit in her rooms and let her servants pack any longer that night.

So she went to the library.

 

——

 

It was natural for Vernoue to visit the library, since her love for books and magic was greatest amongst all the [Princesses]. Even in the evening, the rather magnificent shelves of books that went up four stacks high made her smile—but her restless pacing over the ancient, green-and-gold carpets made her vanish into the rear stacks.

There were glass windows looking out over the royal garden that were aglow with orange light and places to sit and read—some servants and even some of the nobility sat there, reading or talking quietly, but the [Princess] didn’t want them to talk to her.

Princesses could not talk to even lesser nobility as equals. They had no one to treat as their own aside from other royalty, and they could not trust them openly. As for family…

The royal library of Calanfer wasn’t quite a maze, but rather, the bookshelves were placed such that you wouldn’t know there were alcoves to read in, small rooms for a visitor to stumble across in pursuit of a good book, unless you looked. Indeed, with six entrances to the library, more than one person had gotten lost in the rather sprawling building, but it wasn’t vertically as tall.

The main room with the windows, yes, but the book stacks were only up to four shelves high even there—elsewhere the ceiling lowered down, and [Light] spells would hover between the stacks, signs of someone browsing for a book.

Vernoue paced through the shelves she knew so well, sorted as much by age as the names of the writers—after all, with so many eras in time, that was often the more valuable metric to collate books by. She pretended she was trying to find a good book for the road, something to read when her head hurt from studying magic, but in truth, the moment she saw a small, furtive shape flitting from shelf to shelf, Vernoue chased after it.

“Cindersnap. Cindersnap! Where are you, you silly fox?”

The ink-black fox ambushed Vernoue from behind, and she squeaked, then reached down to stroke its face as the library’s fox, a permanent fixture that wandered the shelves, rubbed its head on her legs. She sat down and buried her face in its fur.

“There you are. I’ve had a terrible week—and I’m going to Nomaudrel tomorrow! I should have brought you something from the Order of Seasons. One of those stupid salt crystals from Pheislant. Cindersnap, why does everyone hate Menisi so much?”

The fox was a fox. If it was intelligent, well, it never spoke to her, and she’d known it since she was a little girl. It just wrapped its huge, bushy tail, white at the tip, around her neck and made curious mrrrk! noises, then licked her ear.

Vernoue expected Cindersnap’s owner to appear at any moment, but when she didn’t appear, Vernoue went to find the [Librarian] who presided over this domain.

Following the fox, who flicked his nose to show her where to go, she found the half-Elf—and one of her sisters—near the back of the library. The librarian was a half-Elf with brown in her hair, not a hint of white, and she looked far younger than Head Chef Mexte, despite being over twice his age.

Head Librarian Lorentha came from Gaiil-Drome. She didn’t age. She’d served in Calanfer for over a century, and Reclis du Marquin often joked to his children that Lorentha had written half the books in the library under different pen names.

Certainly, she was always reading a book that hovered behind her on a magical stand, ready for her to turn to it and pick up where she’d left off. But she was also fairly frail of constitution; something about her skin, so that she wore bandages of cloth over her fingers—she’d cut herself on even the pages of books.

Despite that, she could find any book you needed. Of course, Vernoue knew her well, as did the [Princesses] who often came here to play or escape their guardians, often incurring either her wrath or favor.

The scene Vernoue came across was familiar. Not in the exact look of it, but the nature. It was of a red-haired girl squatting down in a corner of the bookshelves, hiding her face as Lorentha bent over her.

“Princess Ellet? I thought I saw you. Your Thronebearers have been searching all over the library for you.”

“I’m hiding. Don’t tell them I’m here, Lorentha. Please?”

Vernoue stopped, and Cindersnap jumped from her arms to sniff at Ellet’s dress. The girl clung to the fox, and Lorentha glanced at Vernoue.

“Don’t you have evening lessons?”

“I don’t want to. Read me a story, Lorentha? Please?”

Ellet, normally sociable and cheerful, looked put-upon and tired, possibly from visiting Ser Lormel and then a full day of her studies or socializing or attending a gathering with some of her peers or—it could be any reason. She was thirteen. The half-Elf hesitated.

“Certainly, Your Highness. Did you read the book I gave you about brave [Beast Tamers]?”

“Yes. I liked Orric and his Otterdog the most. Do you have more stories like that? Mother says a pet should be useful if I want one.”

“Her Majesty said that, did she? And you wanted to have an Otterdog so badly. Why don’t we read another story then? About the Marshes of Oswen? That’s where they came from, you know. I have stories about Veltras folk who first lived there, hunting in the Great Swamp, Oswenia.”

“You mean the Great Swamp of Oswenia, Lorentha. That’s not good grammar.”

Ellet corrected the half-Elf as Lorentha escorted her to some soft couches by a window. The half-Elf sat down, smiling, as Ellet curled up next to her, still stroking the fox.

“Not in this case. The Great Swamp was once a living being. Oswenia, the terrible and wonderful place, filled with magic and deep bogs, Swamp Trolls, Dryads…and Humans! The first Veltras folk mixed and mingled with the strange Drakes and Gnolls who had already lived there. Shall I read you the tale?”

She already had a book in hand, and Vernoue watched, hands on her hips, slightly jealous, as Ellet sat up. The half-Elf turned a page, and when she spoke, it happened.

“The marshes buzzed as the first frosts broke. Dragonflies fluttered upwards in spirals of magic not known to the ken of cityfolk or plainsfolk, and the swamp, Oswenia, awoke. She opened her eyes from her winter slumber as the World’s Tree shed a single leaf to the ground, which landed like distant thunder. On that day, the first Humans rode into the marsh. Quite by accident. A horse’s hooves splashed into the muck, and before the riders knew it, they were up to their necks in mud. Which amused the Great Swamp greatly, and she focused on the strange intruders who smelled of steel and sea, who had come so boldly—and unwisely—into her domain…”

Her voice conjured a green wave of water, studded with blooming lilypads, green almost like grass, and deep, brown waters filled with muck and the images of moving fish, around Vernoue’s boots. The 5th Princess almost fell for the illusion like so many times and nearly lifted her feet out of the muck—

But it was just an illusion. Buzzing filled the air, and the [Librarian] flipped a page on the book as Ellet sat up and peered into the waters. Cindersnap leapt out of her arms to prowl the illusory swamp.

In the distance, Vernoue swore she heard swearing and shouts and an unhappy horse’s neighing. She sighed enviously—she knew this story—and Ellet hugged her knees to her chest in her dress.

“Is this a terrible story, Lorentha? I heard Oswen was destroyed! I cried all night. If it’s a terrible story, I don’t want to hear it.”

The half-Elf broke off reading, amused, and an Otterdog paddled past them, chasing fish.

“The destruction of Oswen was terrible, but Otterdogs find a way to survive, Your Highness. I very much doubt they’re all gone. Why don’t you listen and see how the swamp is so vast even a terrible event like this couldn’t destroy it.”

She was going to go on when someone interrupted. Vernoue jumped as a golden shadow passed by her, and Cindersnap backed up, yipping.

“A story shall have to wait. Princess Ellet, you are late to your [Tutors]. Your escort is in a panic. Though there is only one place they would lose you in the palace.”

Lorentha peeked up as Dame Vensha appeared, a bloodhound for Ielane beyond peer. Ellet wilted, and she began to wiggle off Lorentha’s lap, but the half-Elf merely put a finger in her book.

“Dame Vensha, Princess Ellet was in the midst of a story. And I see Princess Vernoue has come to find a book before her travels. Would the [Tutors] not wait a day?”

“Her Highness has commitments, Head Librarian. A [Princess] honors them.”

“I’ll go. I’m terribly sorry for being an inconvenience, Dame Vensha.”

Ellet sounded very meek. However, Lorentha just steadied her, and the book’s pages fluttered as she let it hover.

“A story is fitting education for a day, and the mind needs rest. Please take it as a personal request, Dame Vensha.”

“Her Majesty would not wish Princess Ellet’s education interrupted.”

Vensha’s voice was always like iron, but she seemed to hesitate as Lorentha glanced at her. Cindersnap prowled around Vensha’s boots, and the half-Elf smiled.

“Please convey my request to Queen Ielane as a personal favor. Surely I am due one or two such indulgences for a half-Elf set in her ways? Princess Vernoue, why don’t you find a seat? I know I’ve read this story to you, but it has been a decade or two since I told it. Long enough to forget a detail or two.”

The expression of uncertainty on Vensha’s face was enough to make Vernoue sit. She and Ellet peeked at Vensha as the Thronebearer bowed abruptly.

“There is no need to trouble Her Majesty. Tomorrow, Princess Ellet.”

“Yes, Dame Vensha!”

Ellet was entirely relieved, and she sat, swinging her legs, beaming as Lorentha went back to reading.

 

——

 

Her stories always made Vernoue sigh. She couldn’t count how many she’d heard in this very spot. And she wasn’t even the [Princess] who had sat with Lorentha the most! You might think it was her, but Shardele, Aielef, even Lyonette had spent so much time here, listening to stories come to life.

“I don’t know if I truly need a book, Lorentha. I’m—just going to see Menisi, and I was stressed. Everyone has an opinion about her.”

“Princess Menisi? And here I thought it was Lyonette. Chef Mexte said you’d heard from your sister and were out of sorts.”

The half-Elf raised graceful brows in surprise, and Vernoue wasn’t shocked the two had talked; they were some of the oldest servants.

“Do you remember her?”

“Of course.”

Lorentha was the oldest member of Calanfer’s staff, so it was a silly question, but she thought about the matter as she led Vernoue to some books on Nomaudrel to read.

“She may well have changed as much as the rumors say, but she is your sister, Princess Vernoue, is she not?”

“For what that’s worth.”

Vernoue muttered to her feet. Still, the [Librarian] fixed her with a calm smile as Cindersnap let Vernoue rub his belly.

“If it is the Menisi I remember telling stories to, she did care for her sisters. Go to her and don’t carry such expectations too heavily, Princess. There was a time she’d sit with you, listening to the same stories as Princess Ellet.”

That—did help. Vernoue relaxed a bit and thanked Lorentha, who waved it off and checked some books out for Vernoue to take. After rubbing Cindersnap’s head one last time for good luck, Lorentha let Vernoue go, though she asked about Lyonette.

“Princess Lyonette always did love tales of other continents. I regret…reading so many books of Izril to her before she left. Does she seem happy?”

Her eyes fixed on Vernoue as the 5th Princess thought about it.

“She looks halfway to being one of your heroines in your storybooks, Lorentha.”

Words could not express the mix of emotions on the half-Elf’s face, then. Pride, pain, understanding—she nodded simply, and Vernoue forgot about it as she rushed back to do her packing. A good impression. No matter what people said, she had great cause, and Menisi…she would simply have to meet her sister as she was.

Nevertheless, when she rode the long, but safe, route towards Nomaudrel, Vernoue did harbor worries about just what the 2nd Princess of Calanfer would be like.

The worries got worse along the way the more people talked of her.

 

——

 

Most of the ride was fast and straightforwards, even if they had to skirt Ailendamus due to the war. Terandria was no…other continent with unpaved roads. [Knights] warded most common highways, and they would escort a carriage like hers without question.

Boredom was boredom, though, and Vernoue studied her new [Invisibility] spell, which she actually thought she was making progress on the entire journey there, even if she got terribly cartsick.

The most interesting thing was, in fact, the news. Apparently, the King of Erribathe? Nuvityn? His army was halfway towards the southern coast of Terandria, but was having five hells of a time getting anywhere.

He’d first tried Ailendamus’ border, which would be the shortest shot to going south, but the Kingdom of Glass and Glory had refused Erribathe, who had taken a side opposite theirs during the Bloodtear Pirates incident. And Ailendamus was big.

Thus, King Nuvityn had passed by Dwarfhome and lingered for nearly a week apparently, before setting off. They’d headed around the mountain towards Noelictus, before, for whatever reason, being refused entry there as well.

A huge army like his would alarm most rulers, but Vernoue would have thought you’d want to humor the King of Myths. It seemed that King Nuvityn hadn’t been too upset by the refusal though; after he had detached from his army to ride and meet with the royal family, they’d backtracked and been clearly deciding whether they should cut further north through Samal and Avel to get to a coast—and it’d be damn hard to sail from Avel, high up as it was—or go the other way, around all of Ailendamus.

Well, Samal had put paid to that notion. They’d allowed Erribathe entry—if they had enough keys.

Enough keys for an army? The paradise Kingdom of Keys might not have even minded Nuvityn’s army, but they had their famous keys at even the border gates, and Nuvityn must not have brought any keys—or simply not had the right ones. So back he went, and at this point, Vernoue sensed he’d lost his patience.

He crossed through Ailendamus’ border, and there had been a skirmish—one that his army had won. Now he was storming south, and the Kingdom of Glass and Glory was clearly loath to challenge his army, but it was an affront, an affair, and a ghastly breach of etiquette.

Needless to say, everyone wanted to talk to the King of Myths and see why he was riding out and to be seen in the company of his forces. It sounded dreadfully exciting, and Vernoue hoped she’d be back in time for a glimpse of him.

His army might move fast—for an army—but he had a lot of continent to travel, and she was only bound to Nomaudrel and back for a quick jaunt. Her enchanted carriage could make the entire trip in a single day if she slept in it.

It was when they hit Nomaudrel that Vernoue looked up from her book at all, mostly because the Kingdom of Passions was, uh…interesting.

It bordered the Lantocracy of Bitorm, and as such, the mists that plagued the Kingdom of Lanterns gave a rather mysterious look to the landscape. But it wasn’t as overcast as Noelictus or as confusing as Bitorm where you needed help to go anywhere not on a main road. Rather, the mists were of different colors.

“Alchemical fumes have made some permanently more colorful, Your Highness. Notice the smell in the air?”

It smelled like a market bazaar! Vernoue sneezed half a dozen times when the window was open before the slight itching in her nostrils became bearable. They were tingly, rich, and fragrant scents—like someone had permanently opened a perfume bottle in the room over!

Mostly, though, she noticed that Nomaudrel was just less—patrolled than other kingdoms. You had this sense in Calanfer that a Thronebearer or the Watch was the law. On the roads, as she had observed, there was always a [Knight] riding about. But in Nomaudrel, it almost felt like they were resented. People glanced at the [Knights] as if suspicious that the [Knights] were here to pull something out of them.

“They do have [Knights] here, don’t they?”

“Yes, Your Highness. Several. The Crowlende Order, the Irriven Redbloods, and Pregaris all operate within or partially within the borders. But they are—small Knight Orders compared to others. Self-financed, not in service to the crown.”

“Oh, I see.”

What a peculiar nation. Certainly, their Watch seemed a bit sharper than the Thronebearers, but Vernoue had done some reading into the country, and she’d heard corruption was an issue among them! Imagine! The last person to warn her from Calanfer remarked on that.

“Bribery of a certain level can lead to a working system, if one with necessary inefficiency, Vernoue. It’s a delicate game of needs that requires reasonable people to function. The [Thieves] cannot bribe the [Guards] too much, and the [Guards] cannot be too greedy, but some of both means that crime flourishes and is more…managed than a city where it is clamped down on.”

King Reclis had an opinion about everything, and he enjoyed weird things like this. He’d called Vernoue up when she passed the border, and she protested.

“Father, how is that better?”

He sighed, almost disappointed she didn’t see the interesting facets of it.

“Because it means that the leader of the underworld has to be reasonable. He has to pay bribes and is thus disincentivized to kill the [Guards] he bribes. Truly honest and truly corrupt individuals don’t fit in well, which is a flaw, but it leads to stability. More than a kingdom with harsh laws. After all, someone driven to crime may commit it wherever, whereas here, if the crime is unacceptable, the rogues catch the criminal before the law.”

He did love his theories. But he couldn’t talk it over with her forever; instead, King Reclis paused.

“I just wanted you to remember me to Menisi. See she’s well, have your chat. I’d ask you to mention Ielane—but no.”

“Should I say anything else?”

“…No. Just that I miss her.”

He heaved a gusty sigh. Which said nothing to Vernoue, other than that the always-busy King Reclis, who had little time for his offspring, whom he did seem to love, remembered Menisi.

Just a bit of jealousy there. Then they reached Menisi’s domain.

 

——

 

The region belonging to Menisi and this ‘Naodin’ she had married was known as Cont’dvalle. Which sat midway towards the western border, bordering some smaller mountains in a long valley of sorts. It produced alchemical goods, apparently, thanks in part to forests and swamps and even caves that all had flora and fauna worth using.

The coach slowed to get directions because the [Driver] did need a bit of help, and thus, the final warnings came—from everyone.

The people who saw Vernoue were only too excited to meet a [Princess], much less of Calanfer who had been in the news, compared to their kingdom which hadn’t been featured at all. But when they heard she was bound for Cont’dvalle, they lost their smiles and grew…concerned.

“The sister of Lady Duchess Menisi? She’s not to be wed, is she?”

That was the first question an [Innkeeper] asked, and when assured that was not the case, the woman touched her forehead with two fingers.

“Passions preserved for that. With respect, Highness, I would visit somewhere else. Anywhere else. The Lord Duke and Lady Duchess of Cont’dvalle are—extreme. Oh, the city’s safe enough, but those two…”

Then she gave Vernoue such an inquisitive look the [Princess] felt rather uncomfortable.

That wasn’t the only warning. Everyone had an opinion on the ‘Lady Duchess’ or ‘Lord Duke’, none of it comforting.

“What’s done is no one’s business in Nomaudrel besides them that closed the doors…is what I’d like to say. But what if you never closed the doors? Some say they embody the spirit of the Kingdom of Passions, but I say there are lines oughtn’t to be crossed.”

“Like…what lines?”

The [Stall Vendor] serving small cups of gelato out to people gave Vernoue a long look, then glanced at some younger people in line. He cleared his throat.

“Lines, Your Highness. And that’s all that I can say about that. Thank you for your royal patronage.”

It was all just—rumors. Gossip. Overblown stories. So Vernoue told herself. Why, Cont’dvalle was actually a rather splendid little city, albeit one that shone with nightlife and humbler illumination than Eternal Calanfer. Her coach rolled through the streets, and it was abuzz with scrying orbs, hot food, laughter—all the things of a healthy city.

Only, one of her Thronebearers, assigned to her, murmured.

“Eighty-nine…ninety-three…”

“What’s that, Ser…Ser?”

Vernoue turned her head, and the man snapped to attention.

“Merely counting the number of people using a substance that would have been banned in Calanfer, Your Highness.”

Only then did Vernoue turn and sense weird streaks of mana in the passersby, signs of their usual mana supplies being distorted. Or notice too-bright smiles or the manic intensity of some. She began to feel a sense of foreboding, and the knife with the serrated edge felt heavy in her bag of holding before she saw the mansion set in the heart of the city, lacking for gardens or a huge wall separating it from the hoi-polloi—it merely had tall fences and barely a dozen feet of clearance from one wall to the building next to it. It was tall, circular, like a domed platter that someone had put a twist in, made of modern brickwork as opposed to old, enchanted marble.

The servants were expecting Vernoue’s company and admitted them without question. The [Princess] thought they were normal until she realized that either they had different fashion here or something was wrong, because the pants on one of the [Manservants] were far too tight. It showed—she averted her eyes, and one of the Calanferian servants squeaked faintly. Some of the female [Maidservants] wore skirts far too short, and another was strutting around without the upper part of her uniform, just undergarments.

“Oh my—”

They were halfway up the red carpets in the main entrance where the banisters curved upwards around a statue of Barelle the Bard—for some reason—when Vernoue finally saw her older sister.

It had been so long that she had forgotten Menisi, much like Lyonette. But in this case, Lyonette had changed entirely, and Menisi…

Menisi was the same.

She’d inherited Ielane du Marquin’s expression in many ways. Her face, when she appeared, was too severe, and where Aielef went to warlike, Menisi just seemed cold. Her eyes were coal blue, dark, and they had the piercing intensity that warred with her hair. It was the brightest red of the family, Vernoue remembered after seeing it again, more orange than red. They curled down in locks as she stood there, book in hand, reading spectacles on her face.

“Vernoue. How long it’s been.”

Menisi’s voice was also charming, for she’d gotten that from her father. It was inviting, the kind of tone that made you want to talk, like dipping your toe into a warm pool to find it was welcoming. All told, she was a contradiction; she appeared as though nothing would please her more than you exiting her presence, but her voice was an invitation to make a fool of yourself and try to win her favor.

She was wearing a single, long dress that was pale white, had Calanfer’s sigil on it, and a cut down both legs. It was rather rakish, and Vernoue blinked.

She wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Shardele seemed to believe. Vernoue half-curtseyed to Menisi.

“Sister! Thank you for accepting my invitation. I know this is somewhat odd, but I have a request.”

“So I gathered. And not one Mother put you up to?”

“N-no. Actually, it came from Lyonette. Her daughter—I mean—”

Vernoue was off-guard and stumbled before realizing Mrsha was a handful to explain, but Menisi’s eyes brightened.

“Ah, her adopted Gnoll daughter. Fascinating. You’ve been speaking with her, and you claim Lyonette treats her like true offspring. I truly couldn’t understand how anyone found my knife. I told no one. Well, come in, then. Has Ielane given you any—”

The doors blew open behind Vernoue, and her Thronebearers whirled, hands on their blades, then backed up as a man strode into the room, screaming. The illusion of normalcy shattered as Lord Duke Naodin appeared.

For a man who had apparently once murdered three other men with his bare hands—he was not what Vernoue had expected. She had assumed he’d be imposing and huge and had imagined a great, bluff man like Ser Greysten of the Order of Summer, if not so courageous and valorous.

She hadn’t imagined…well, when you heard of a [Lord] who was like a thug, huge, imposing, what did you expect? A hulking brute of a man, so wide across the chest he was three times Vernoue’s size at least? Huge hands, even, dare one say it, a knuckle-dragging Ogreishness to his bearing?

Because that was the image in your head of such a man, and it was almost one-to-one what Vernoue saw. He wore the attire of a [Lord], but she would have thought him some [Mercenary] or barbarous adventurer if not for that! His features were surprisingly sharp, though, at odds with the rest of him, but his manners—

Well, he had come in screaming bloody murder. And he had a sword in one hand.

“Where is he? Where is that rat-tailed bastard? I’ll cut his heirlooms off and feed them to him! Tell me where he is, woman!”

He shook the sword at her, actually shook it, and Vernoue heard a peal of laughter from above. Menisi hugged her stomach, laughing down at Naodin, who turned even redder with fury.

“He’s gone, Naodin! Left the city, and he could be across the border by now! You’ll never catch him, nor even know what he looks like. You may imagine him, though. I certainly shall remember how often we spent abed. Add him to your list of men you’ll not best in bed or battle!”

Vernoue’s mouth was open in horror as Naodin made a sound of inarticulate rage. He came up the stairs three at a time, and all the servants were out of the way. The Thronebearers had closed ranks around Vernoue, but were clearly hesitating. They seemed uncertain, for this might be a tragedy, and if they did nothing—

“You slut! You whore! You’re the ruination of my life! I’m the laughingstock of the city! Tell me where he is!”

“My lips are sealed.”

Menisi mimed the motion. Then she spat in his face. Vernoue saw Naodin wipe at the spit slowly, and then he grabbed her, picked her up by the waist, and stormed towards the nearest room, tearing at her dress.

“Are they—”

The mocking laughter became a shrill cry, then a bellowing voice followed by a tearing sound. The [Princess] and her escort stood frozen as the door slammed open, and one of the Calanferian servants waved a finger.

“W-we should let the Lady Duchess and Lord Duke discuss their issues privately. Our rooms?”

The [Servants] pointed, seeming not nearly as fazed by this alternation. In fact, half seemed amused. Vernoue saw a [Maid] whisper to one of the others.

“Took him three weeks to figure it out this time. He won’t let her out of his clutches half a day, I think.”

“She’s wound him up like an overfilled bottle. How long until she’s cursing him to death?”

The Calanferians were hurrying to get Vernoue settled, with that classic Calanferian tact that made them so famous. But whatever their training—Vernoue had once seen a [Lady] come screaming out of her bedrooms to slap her husband while dead drunk in the middle of a ball and not let her emotions show.

She was, still, not prepared for the echoing grunts and moans coming from the—

They’d left the door open. The Calanferians had to go onto the second floor to their wing and practically sprinted past the open door where Vernoue swore she could see half of the white dress on the floor. She was rushing past, hands over her ears, when it happened.

Menisi du Marquin, 2nd Princess of Calanfer, Menisi the Watchful, crawled to the opening of the door. She had part of her dress clinging to her shoulders; the rest was ripped. A Thronebearer tripped and went crashing over the balcony as Menisi’s frame shook in place as behind her—

“So, Vernoue. How did—you find—my knife? And—how did—Lyonette—get in—touch?”

She spoke breathily, smiling up at Vernoue who froze like a rabbit before the fox, then ran for her rooms. Menisi’s laughter followed her down the hallway as Vernoue threw herself into her rooms and realized whatever she had been told—the truth really was the truth.

Just like Lyonette. Only where Lyonette glowed with triumphs and regrets in equal measure…Menisi’s dark luster was utterly different. Like an unused knife and a vial of poison sitting with a dusty letter decades old.

 

——

 

Lest Vernoue think this was some masterful ploy to keep her off-guard, she quickly realized that it was not. Princess Menisi du Marquin and her husband, Lord Duke Naodin…really were that promiscuous. Nor did they hide what they were doing.

Two times on the first dreadful night of staying in Menisi’s mansion did Vernoue come across them. Once, while she was asking for food from the kitchens because they hadn’t had a welcoming dinner—she heard the two coming and thought they’d stop at the kitchen or stop or something—only for the two to burst in and for her to go screaming outside as the two naked couple decided to consummate on the cutting board.

The second time, she heard an odd sound outside her windows and realized they were outside. In the very narrow gardens.

The next morning, a very sleep-deprived Vernoue was glowering at her food when Menisi appeared. She had a bowl of chopped fruit in yogurt she was eating from. Vernoue dropped her fork when she saw Menisi.

She was sweaty, red-cheeked, and her hair was disheveled. She sat down, wincing slightly, and there was no question what she had been doing bare minutes before appearing.

“And that was Naodin. If he interrupts us, we’ll continue in a bit. He’s been pent up with frustration and just realized I had an affair for three weeks behind his back.”

“Wh—wh—when are you two separating?”

That was all Vernoue could think to ask. Menisi smirked.

“Mother didn’t tell you a thing, did she? This isn’t like Aielef’s agreed-upon deal with her husband. I cheat on him with servants, with anyone who catches my fancy—and he rages and loses his temper. If he were cleverer, he’d stop me, but he can’t.”

“And he doesn’t want to divorce you or…?”

“Kill me? I wonder if he could do either. Perhaps I’ll push him to it, one day. Or he’ll drive me to off myself. That would wipe the smile off his face forever, or so I hope. Only the thought he’d move on makes it less appealing.”

The thought seemed to amuse Menisi. Vernoue tried to steer onto any other subject.

“Sister, I came here to ask a favor.”

Menisi laughed in her face as she fumbled with her dress. One arm of her dress slipped, exposing her chest. She had no undergarments on. Vernoue almost climbed out of her seat.

“Ielane has taught you well. You’re not even going to ask the obvious? I suppose only Seraphel’s that brave—or used to be before three husbands beat it out of her. Then again, she must be brave to defy Ielane and Reclis enough to leave Calanfer. Here’s to her dying before coming home!”

So saying, the 2nd Princess plucked a glass of wine up and drank. Everything she said filled Vernoue with such stupefaction—Menisi knew? She seemed to be aware of everything that was going on with the royal family.

The 2nd Princess sat, eating breakfast, watching Vernoue like a hawk. Much like Ielane did, though her expression suggested urbane amusement rather than pure calculation. Amusement…and sympathy. But not much of either. Menisi eyed Vernoue much like someone watching a rather unfunny joke they’d seen before. Possibly in a mirror.

“I have plenty of time to chat after Naodin is done with his little outburst. He has duties—but my condition means I’ll be antsy in his absence. Get used to interruptions. Or you may watch, but I don’t think you have the stomach for that. He’s woken up. Make it forty minutes.”

She twiddled her fingers as a loud voice came from upstairs. Vernoue sat there, trying to eat food and think about what was going on, until she heard thumping from above and decided she needed a walk.

 

——

 

It transpired that everyone knew about Lady Menisi and Lord Naodin. Anyone on the streets could turn to you, know the rulers of their region, and say, confidently, ‘yep, those two are depraved, even for our city’.

They were infamous. For what? Everything. After half an hour of asking, Vernoue clapped her hands over her ears because she didn’t want to know her elder sister had done everything possible, with everyone, everywhere you could sit or stand or lie, and some of the acts—!

She had to get answers from Menisi, which, as it transpired, wasn’t actually the hardest, because the 2nd Princess was rather forthcoming—when she wasn’t engaged. Actually, when she was engaged too, but there Vernoue drew the line.

But what astonished Vernoue was that when she worked up the courage to enter the mansion again, she found Menisi and Lord Naodin engaged in firing a servant.

For…theft.

“Bechaur, this is gravely disappointing. You’ve served this mansion for three years, and to realize how much you’ve been stealing is truly disheartening. I placed my trust in your honesty, and this is the result?”

Menisi was slightly less disheveled, but she sat, annoyed, exasperated, and slightly upset at a very nervous man who had been divested of his uniform. Lord Naodin stood behind her as she sat.

“Very disappointing.”

“Your Highness, I can explain—”

“Explain what? We have observed each theft and even traced it to the pawnshops who took the items. By rights, I should have the Watch arrest you, but severing your employment and refusing to issue you any recommendation will do. Do not seek employment or I will be forthright about why you were fired.”

Bechaur was caught dead to rights. The man squirmed and twisted, then blurted out.

“I wasn’t the only one! Other servants have been stealing from you as well, Your Grace, Your Highness!”

“Who?”

Naodin’s glower intensified, and Bechaur rattled off a series of names. Naodin’s eyes narrowed, but Menisi held up a hand. She smiled at Vernoue as she put a hand on Naodin’s chest.

“Interesting. Then…Nattie. What did she steal? When? Furnish me with a list of dates and items, Bechaur, since you were there.”

“What? Well, she stole some silverware on the—the—two weeks ago, and—”

Menisi began quizzing the man intensively on exactly who had stolen what and when and how he had observed this theft if he himself hadn’t been part of it. She cut him short after a few minutes.

“I believe you are lying, Bechaur, because you are so very uncertain about events you should know more about. Spite almost makes me want to summon the Watch—will you leave without more fuss or shall we involve them?”

She walked him to the door with several servants, and Vernoue was impressed by that display, despite herself. At least Menisi knew how to run a household. More or less. The disgraced servant apparently had a horse which he was on and riding away from the mansion with little more than his belt pouches when Menisi cupped her hands.

“And just so you and Lord Naodin are aware—I am doubly hurt for all the moments when you and I licked each other—all over—in the library, my bedrooms, the stairs—let alone our delightful trysts while Lord Naodin was a-bath! Did it mean nothing?”

Naodin’s head rose, and his eyes locked onto the suddenly-galloping Bechaur’s backs. The Lord Duke began running after the fleeing manservant, who was now screaming and riding for his life.

Lord Naodin was still running even after six minutes, full-tilt through the city, and his howling for Bechaur’s blood was audible. Vernoue heard Menisi laughing to herself.

“And that is why I don’t bother with the Watch. Most get away. Some do not.”

She confided in Vernoue, then whirled. Her eyes were aglow with dark malice and delight, and before Vernoue could process what was happening, Menisi strode over, kissed a [Maid] on the lips, and breathed.

“We have time before Naodin returns. To—wherever.”

The [Maid] was stripping her uniform off so fast that Vernoue almost screamed as she backed up.

“But she’s—she’s—she!”

Menisi started laughing at her until Vernoue fled twice as fast. Then she knew Menisi was mad.

Strangely, of all the things Vernoue said or did over the next few days in the time they spent together, this was the first and only time Menisi got truly annoyed with her.

 

——

 

“You’ve never even had the notion in your head? Has Calanfer’s courts grown that soft or are you truly in your books all day?”

“It’s immoral!”

Menisi tapped Vernoue on the head with her own spellbook after snatching it from her hands, seeming genuinely annoyed.

“Don’t be a fool.”

When Vernoue brandished her wand, Menisi rolled her eyes.

“I don’t ever recall squabbling with you growing up since you were too small, Vernoue. If you’d like to learn how I fought with Shardele and Aielef, go ahead. I wasn’t the one who went crying to Ielane, ever.”

So saying, she raised the book with clear intent to bring it down spine-first on Vernoue’s head. Vernoue did have a pointy stick and the ability to cast Tier 2 magic. She weighed the relative impact a heavy spellbook would have if swung with sufficient force and got to the same conclusion most [Mages] faced when they decided to quarrel with a [Warrior] within arm’s reach.

“B-but it’s so—I know some other odd species do it, like Stitch-folk, I’m no idiot, Menisi! But no decent species—”

“Vernoue. Our regal mother has probably kissed more women than you’ve kissed men in your life. My guess is she was involved with Dame Vensha, either that or it’s something else. She’s certainly experimented, and I know Shardele has. Aielef…who knows, but if you think half the Calanferian courts haven’t experimented—at least, the female half—you’re blind and foolish.”

Menisi dropped a Tier 6 spell on Vernoue in an instant and followed it up.

“They call them ‘Turnscales’ in Izril. A whole host of names here, but never as catchy. Lanceswappers and so on. Consider this as a question: why does it matter?”

“Because…it’s not natural? You can’t produce a child—”

Menisi waved Vernoue’s startled reply away.

“Most of the acts I can do with Naodin won’t produce a child. Have you ever seen two male animals rut? Consider the question of why it is illicit, disturbing, wrong. Because, in some ways, it might challenge culture? Especially in set cultures like we and Drakes have, where marriage is so much more than an expression of love, but financial as well.”

“Wh—financial?”

“Because income is shared between married households. Father has the theory that Turnscales challenge underlying principles in that way—I think it’s a mix of that and simply the aversion of people to what makes them uncomfortable. What is new is hated. He and I discussed it, and from your expression, he has never done so with you. A pity. You should ask him if he’s ever kissed a man or tried more. I never did ask; I wonder if he’d put his mouth where his ideals go.”

She smiled, and then she was like Reclis, thinking a thousand different ways, but Vernoue had never imagined Reclis would be discussing something like that.

“S-so you’re interested in women? Is that why you and Lord Naodin fight?”

That would explain everything, but Menisi waved this off.

“I don’t think I am. Rather, not more than men, and I think I enjoy the company of men more. Or women who act like men. I find enjoyment in both, and I often wonder if that is possible for everyone, if they weren’t so set-fast in their ways. In my case…I get bored.”

She touched her chest, and her eyes glittered. They were sitting in Menisi’s study, which, Vernoue feared if she shone the right spell around, might illuminate exactly what substances had covered…everything.

“Bored?”

Menisi stretched out.

“Bored, Vernoue. Twice a day, at least, or more. I’ve tried everything, from toys to partners—male, of course I tried female, other species—don’t give me that look. Have you never eaten the same food, again and again, until even your favorite grows tiresome? That’s just what this is. A constant chase against boredom. Although…even the same food is quite decent.”

Another smile, but this time, Vernoue thought it wasn’t so happy. Menisi’s head rose.

“Have you figured it out? The pact Lord Duke Naodin and I have sworn? Or did you come here purely on your own mission?”

The 5th Princess had come here just to get answers she sought, and she flushed.

“I—I—let me think. You weren’t like this growing up. Aielef told me that! You hated your marriage, and you plotted…to kill Mother. I read your letter. Mother found it, and she said she’d never found the knife, but she didn’t look surprised when she saw it.”

“May I see it?”

Vernoue passed over letter and dagger, and Menisi inspected the edge as she read her own letter. She closed her eyes a moment and held the dagger loosely across her chest.

“I was prepared to do it. Even now, part of me wishes I’d realized Vensha was onto me and moved my plans up a day early. Ielane deserves nothing less, but she won and married me to the suitor with the highest bid who would also take me far, far away from Calanfer. She won, and my sisters never called because I was the legend they learned to fear.”

Vernoue hung her head. Then it rose slightly.

“Shardele said you threatened her when she came—”

Menisi’s eyes opened, and an expression of regret passed her face.

“I was angry. I regret that. I should have…what’s done is done. You have half of it. Now, tell me the other half. Come now, Vernoue, you and I are sisters, and I have longed to know what my magical sister is capable of.”

She stood and paced around Vernoue, almost hungrily. Faced with such expectations, all the 5th Princess could do was think.

Kingdom of Passions. Her condition? Vernoue’s eyes flickered as she opened them, and she swallowed.

“I have a thought—but it can’t be. Blood Skills?”

Menisi clapped in approval, a smile on her face.

“Splendidly done! The member of the Hundred Heroes who founded this land was Mandrel. Mandrel the Red; such an unassuming name—unless you understand what it means. It’s strange how much it seeps into nations, the founders. I’ve heard they do something like this in Noelictus, and of course, there are nations that embrace this, but it’s rare these days, even in Nomaudrel. Skills born out of frustration, madness, loss…I hated Naodin. I still despise him, though we’ve become intertwined terribly. I think he’s come to regret marrying me, but like a bee to nectar, he cannot resist. We hate each other, and thus Skills emerge.”

Her smile. Vernoue’s entire back was crawling as Menisi sat back, like a [Teacher] excited for the student to come to the right conclusion.

“Guess what my Skill is. Go on.”

“I—I don’t know them well enough. Something like…[Infidelity Unchecked]? And he might have—[Rage of the Cuckold]?”

Menisi began laughing so hard at that second Skill she almost fell out of her chair.

“Vernoue! What Skills! Ah, no. No…those sound actually like regular Skills. It’s not twisted enough, Vernoue. It’s not dark enough. Think far, far worse. What can any man, any partner do to the other? How do you ruin someone’s life? Then think how to make their life worse than even that.”

She got up and wanted to cup Vernoue’s cheeks with her hands, but the 5th Princess shoved her back.

“Menisi, Sister. I think you’re slightly mad. I’m sorry that Ielane forced you into this marriage. Just tell me. What’s your Skill?”

The 2nd Princess of Calanfer sat there. Then she made a gesture between her legs, vulgar, simple, and spoke.

“Why—[Mutual Condition: Depraved Intellect], of course. What I crave is what he wanted of me, Vernoue. Brilliance and insatiable hunger.”

Vernoue’s skin crawled, and she backed away from Menisi.

“That’s—you have to divorce him! Annul your class! Ask Father or—Menisi!”

The [Princess] sat there, smiling. She tapped one ear.

“Listen to what I said, Vernoue, and then understand. Before our classes changed, the first one we received was [Toxic Lover]. The both of us.”

Listen…Vernoue’s eyes widened.

“Mutual?”

Menisi chuckled.

“His is what I chose. [Mutual Condition: Barbarous Loyalty]. He was not always so huge, you know. Not nearly so strong. Loyalty…I think I chose well. I do as I wish in my fits of passion, and he is ever-loyal, though he curses me. Don’t you see?”

It was like two thorny roses digging their points into each other. One got something they wanted, and the other…

It was horrific enough to Vernoue, and she said so, but Menisi just shrugged.

“It was horrific when Ielane told me I could stand and be married or go through it drugged or prisoner of a Skill. It was horrific when we were children and her first lesson to us was to have us kidnapped for trusting someone unguardedly. I tried to murder her: you didn’t even ask me why, so you understand. We are strangers, Vernoue. I haven’t made up my mind if I want to help you. I feel sorry for you, because I know exactly how you’ve lived. Now you know me, and I know a little about you. Explain to me how the knife came into your possession.”

She leaned her head against one fist, and Vernoue sat there a moment, vibrating with—what? Horror? Sympathy?

Envy? Surely not for how Menisi lived, but perhaps at least for someone who was well and truly free of Ielane. Here, in her domain, Menisi was untouchable by even Calanfer’s long arms, and her husband might be no Tyrion Veltras nor a great [Lord] of a mighty kingdom, but he had more than enough force—and loyalty—to repel anything short of a full army.

Freedom, such as Menisi had found, but so entirely dark. Menisi’s eyes, those dark coals, were long extinguished. Until for one moment, she sat up—and Vernoue saw a spark.

“Take it to the owner and ask for a drink. That’s all you need. Prepare for suffering.”

Then she put her head down on one arm and began to laugh. Laugh, until she wiped at her eyes and gazed up at Vernoue. The 5th Princess realized she had no idea who Menisi had ever been. But now she was curious.

 

——

 

[Depraved Intellect] meant exactly what it sounded like. Menisi was simultaneously held hostage to her libido—and possibly more intelligent than even Ielane, though she claimed it was relative.

“Say, rather, when others wane with hunger, distraction, tiredness, and so on, I retain my intellect. Not all of it; I would wager it’s about 70-90% of my best. Yet I am always that sharp. It’s a tiresome condition. You may think Naodin got the worst of it, since I imagine he is slower on the uptake with his [Barbarous Loyalty], but he inspires a weird loyalty in others, and his is obvious to see, despite his reputation and mine in the royal courts. Regardless—sometimes I have trouble keeping up with my desires, damn him.”

“I still think it’s awfully monstrous.”

Menisi wore an amused look as she gave Vernoue a tour of her holdings. She turned and airily waved a hand past a bustling laboratory that held no less than five [Alchemists] and countless apprentices running ingredients to them. The air was thick with multiple scents, and Vernoue coughed as she wore the mask that Menisi had given her to even walk into this place.

“You think so, Vernoue? Perhaps it is to you, but to me, it was a trade I engaged in. I could have killed him.”

One of the [Alchemists] nearly slipped at his station cutting up Sage’s Grass. Vernoue was worried, but Menisi just raised her voice above the chopping sounds.

“It would have been far worse had I stayed in Calanfer. Look: this is just one of the alchemy workshops I set up that makes my little estate far more productive than the other regions of Nomaudrel. I don’t even own all of them. Once I implemented the first one, the other [Alchemists] copied the system.”

“And you did this because you had your Skill?”

Menisi smirked as she led Vernoue on, taking a bunch of sample vials that one of the [Alchemists] offered her and tucking them up her sleeves.

“What, you think I was that intelligent? No, I copied it from Nerrhavia’s Fallen, Vernoue.”

“You visited Chandrar? Why? For business?”

Another amused look.

“I convinced Naodin to go with me. I’ve travelled to Chandrar, Izril, Baleros, even the House of Minos—though they kicked me out for indecency. That’s freedom, Vernoue. Here, Ielane can’t do anything to me. Here, I am a wealthy [Lady] with influence. If I cared to do it, I’d amend my reputation, but I chose this. I could have killed Naodin and fled, but I saw the opportunity, and so did he.”

“So you made him wealthy. Is he that happy with your…indiscretions?”

Vernoue was only too happy to put her mask away after the tour; she needed a bath. The laboratory was very impressive and organized, since multiple [Alchemists] could combine Skills and work on recipes they knew with little risk of the alchemical explosions so common to their craft, but it wasn’t for her. She liked magic, which was usually cleaner than powders and tubes.

Menisi just shrugged at Vernoue.

“You’d have to ask him. I think he, like me, has taken the good with the ills. He wasn’t feared before we wed. He was shorter than I was and no great warrior. Cont’dvalle has always had a reputation for lawlessness, and the nobility have walked wide of the underworld. Now, the underworld walks wide of him.”

She sounded satisfied with her choices. It still made Vernoue’s heart hurt to think on the Skills, but Menisi seemed to regard Calanfer as the worse of the two fates—and thus, Vernoue as the [Princess] with the worse bargain at the moment. That was an odd feeling.

Even Lord Naodin shared that experience, which was very jarring.

He seemed actually civil when Menisi wasn’t working him up into a fervor. After returning from his rampage, he’d found them and made polite conversation for a few minutes, mostly about the war.

“Technically, we could have given aid to Calanfer. Nomaudrel wouldn’t, but I asked about sending a few hundred soldiers. Menisi refused.”

“She did?”

The [Lord]’s arms were folded as he inspected Menisi flirting with an adventurer, giving them the samples of the new concoctions from the alchemy lab on the condition that they reported their findings.

“She pays attention to all of you. Her brothers and sisters. She wouldn’t stop watching the scrying orb while the Bloodtear Pirates were fighting at sea. I think she’s happy to see you here. So if you wish to stay, it would cheer her—”

Menisi must have heard that, because she called out loudly as she gave the adventurer a kiss on the cheek. He ran off as Naodin’s brow darkened.

“If you’re going to tell stories, Naodin, I’ll start talking about your family. Half of whom I’ve slept with.”

That was enough to get him fired up. Lord Naodin growled about work and stormed off. Vernoue couldn’t tell if there was any actual affection there, but they did seem used to each other, for lack of a better word.

Menisi seemed to be able to manage Naodin as adroitly as she wanted, and Vernoue imagined the endless affairs Menisi got up to.

Which Lord Naodin had wished for, in part. Just not how he got it. How the crimson Skills twisted and twisted.

 

——

 

They returned to Menisi’s mansion where she retired to her personal chambers. Menisi scowled after Naodin’s revelation of how she kept up with news, but she just sighed.

“He’s ambitious. The gold and influence I pull in means the Cont’dvalle region is thriving, and while Nomaudrel is small, he has designs to own more of it. We move subtly, lest we attract too many enemies, but it is fun. I fear I’ve been over vigorous of late, though. One second while I attend to it.”

Menisi was wincing and holding some ice to her…private parts as she hobbled around her rooms.

Vernoue had no desire to see any part of Menisi’s intimate life, despite her sympathies, but her elder sister merely took her to an alchemy laboratory of all things. There she found a vial of very pale, white powder and put some on her tongue.

“Aah. That’s better. Without damn healing potions, I’ve been searching for a way to heal myself. Painkilling is far too destructive, and this does speed up recovery.”

It seemed her aches and pains were healing. Fascinated, Vernoue peered at the vial.

“What is that?”

“Selphid Dust.”

“Selphid D—this is illegal in every Terandrian Kingdom!”

Vernoue nearly threw the vial away from herself and rushed to wipe her hands, but Menisi just snorted.

“I’m well aware how addictive and dangerous it is, Vernoue. But if you ingest it in very small quantities, it has a healing effect. I’m working on the frenzy it induces, but I can control it. See?”

She had a scrape on one knuckle from vigorous activity, and by the time an hour had passed, it had scabbed over and almost completely fallen away. That…made Vernoue hesitate.

“But if it were that useful, surely—”

“I use a very clean strain of it. Most of what’s sold is tainted—likely on purpose. Nor is it easy to make; it requires Balerosian fungi among other things. I grow it. We produce much of what Terandria wants, even if most kingdoms deny allowing any of it into their borders. From the ‘paradise’ of Samal to vaunted Calanfer, Vernoue. Are you sure you have no interest in availing yourself of any of my delights? Despite what you might think, my servants are discreet. You could ruin your bridal price at least.”

That was the part of Menisi that Vernoue didn’t like, the one that prodded and poked at her to defy Queen Ielane and regarded her like some bird in a cage. Vernoue defensively held her spellbook to her chest.

“Is this drink that I’m supposed to get from you anywhere here? Is that why I was sent?”

Abruptly and suddenly, Menisi’s joy ran out, and she sagged.

“…No. No, I actually believe you have words from the future. Either that, or it’s Mother or—a dead man’s plans working through you. I’d believe the other two as readily. Who else could know? Vernoue, let me ask you something. Do you know my passion-class? Do you know your sisters?”

Passion-class. The class the others had, but would never level in hugely, because they were [Princesses] first. They were allowed one, and Shardele’s had consolidated into her [Princess] class—Vernoue hesitated.

“Mine’s [Mage]. Aielef—I don’t know, but I think she’s learning [Warrior]. Shardele…[Smoker]?”

“Dreamer. And good for Aielef. She loved to paint. Ellet is too young, and Seraphel was good at insulting people…she was actually the best [Princess] of us, in that sense. As for little Lyonette?”

“…Peon-hater?”

Menisi laughed. But Menisi had heard how Lyonette had changed and was so hungry to know more about Lyonette and her new life. Because she had never known the old one, Vernoue realized. She felt sorry for Menisi as much as her older sister unnerved her.

“Mine. Mine…was when I was still in love with Eternal Calanfer, Vernoue. Guess, guess.”

She loved making Vernoue guess, as if she prized seeing her younger sister’s intelligence. The 5th Princess tried to humor her.

“Aielef said the occult…”

“She would call it that. Close enough. What’s magic without magic, Vernoue?”

“Sleight-of-hand?”

“Close, but more adjacent. The tent next over, the wagon down the road.”

“Wagon? Tent?”

“A fair, Vernoue. One that comes to you only twice a year, filled with sights and scenes—unfit for a [Princess]. Glamor and artifice…and truth, if you look into the glass orb.”

Menisi spread her arms and twirled around, and Vernoue had it.

“[Fortune Teller]? You were someone who divined the future?”

The 2nd Princess corrected her.

“[Seer]. Or I tried to be. Our mother was all about logic, and Father was empiricism and philosophy. I longed for the pure truth that put it all together. Why not the future? Tarot cards, crystal balls, palm-reading—symbols and meaning in patterns, Vernoue.”

“It sounds…ludicrous. Nothing like real magic.”

For the first time, Menisi grew defensive.

“It has its own class! There is nothing with a class that does not have value, Vernoue. True…much of it is reading into what’s already there. But I found actual power as I rose in levels. I wanted to see the future, to steer Calanfer in a better direction, fight Ailendamus—Mother wanted me to marry one of House Shoel’s own before I rebelled. But that was never in any future I could find.”

“You saw the future.”

Then Vernoue began to understand, and Menisi grew quiet. She let her hair down and sat against one wall, shuffling an old deck of cards she’d found. She spread them out and stared at them.

“Yes. At great cost. I was nowhere near the level I needed to be to truly see the future in any way I could change it, Vernoue. So I reached out. I made inquiries, and I found a…a teacher. Mother saw through him in an instant, but I was young. He came prowling, like a leech, promising better futures—but they always had him in it. Rastandius, the greatest [Soothsayer] in thousands of years. To hear him tell it, he made the King of Destruction—though by his own failures.”

Her head rose, and Vernoue’s breath caught. Now, Menisi was cold.

“For all the things Naodin and I do to each other, there is some understanding of it, as much as we war and barb each other. I’d take all of this to undo a single old man and a girl too young to know she was being preyed upon. He brewed me a potion to see my future. I took it and saw misery in every child Ielane ever bore in so many futures. Rastandius offered me a way to make Calanfer glorious, to beat Ailendamus—if only I gave him the power he craved. I saw he’d ruin Calanfer by this salvation. So he fled.”

Vernoue sat speechless, and Menisi waved the old, tangled threads of the past away.

“He’s dead now. Sometimes, I think he’s haunting me because he could pull on fate’s strings, even if it never quite turned out how he wanted. But perhaps—he didn’t expect this. The future sent you to me, because I have what you want.”

“Your powers to see the future? So I can figure out how to become an [Archmage] and—and take control of my own destiny?”

Menisi stopped as she reached for a book, which clicked and made the entire wall of her study swing outwards. She gave Vernoue a strange gaze.

“No. The potion. I only drank half of it.”

 

——

 

Menisi took Vernoue into secret chambers that held more dangerous drugs—relatively speaking—and valuable objects. It wasn’t a massive backroom, but it was rather impressive. She spoke, idly, as she led Vernoue into a vault with enchanted Drawers of Holding.

“Since I haven’t visited, how is old Lorentha doing? Is Head Chef Mexte still around?”

She remembered those two? Vernoue was astonished, and Menisi snorted lightly as she checked drawers.

“Where is it? The servants must have put it somewhere else. Of course I remember those two. They practically raised me—and you as well, I’ll warrant.”

“You let servants in here? I thought these were your secret chambers!”

“Which grow dusty, Vernoue. I allow them in; there’re spells that monitor the entrance. Anyone going in is recorded, and if they tried to take something out, they’d suffer.”

Oh. Again, clever. Vernoue helped search for what would apparently be a half-empty crystal decanter with glowing orange-white liquid. Menisi spoke sidelong.

“If there were any reason I’d return to the palace, it would be to thank them before Mexte passes. Lorentha is likely to outlive us both—but I should like to speak to both as adults. You shouldn’t miss the chance either.”

“Menisi, I’m 25 years old.”

Vernoue wondered if she seemed young, but Menisi simply shot her a sardonic smile.

“Do you still run to Mexte as he puts a pot of tea on and ‘forgets’ to make your food? He’s in service to Ielane, Vernoue. Or did you think the Head Chef has time to dance attendance on each [Princess] who comes complaining of her day?”

Vernoue suddenly had a terrible feeling in her stomach.

“You mean he’s just humoring us…?”

Menisi thought about it, then shook her head.

“No. At least, I don’t think so. I am sure Ielane’s told him to keep us all on her diet so we’re slim and attractive. One of the habits I couldn’t break—or I get more exercise than I thought. Say, rather, he does it how he prefers things, and she can recognize a good thing and not interfere. Sometimes. He’s good at listening. He was a [Cook] for a mercenary company in Baleros. I think I’ve eaten more vegetables at that table with him than the sum of every other meal in my life.”

Vernoue did eat a lot of greens in his presence. She puffed up with outrage…before frowning.

“He gives me ice cream. I’m sure Mother frowns upon that. And she’s always annoyed the treats aren’t locked up properly in the secondary kitchens.”

“A splendid man to raise Calanfer’s [Princesses] and [Princes]. Just like Lorentha.”

“She chased Dame Vensha off just before I left. Ellet didn’t want to study.”

Menisi smiled even more broadly and with genuine affection, Vernoue was startled to see.

“Ah, Lorentha. I’ve often wondered if she and Mexte…no, that’s probably just the salacious part of my brain making up things. If there were anyone in the Eternal Throne that Ielane is wary of, it’s her.”

“She’s got no power. Mother could easily override her—”

“Lorentha’s the oldest member of staff, Vernoue. She told stories to Reclis. She can dismiss Thronebearers or even get them lost. As for her fox…I’m not sure what level Lorentha is, but she’s bound to be over Level 40. That fox is as old as I am. However, you and I—we’re children they raise. I wish to go back, thank them, and to understand the two as people, not the guardians who decided to keep us from being perfect, neurotic puppets.”

Menisi’s wistful expression was replaced by a sharp intake of breath. She drew out a bottle wrapped in old velvet, and Vernoue saw…no magic at all. Nothing, from the bottle and the liquid within, which was odd when she saw how it did glow.

“Faye’s Eyes. Not ‘Fate’s Eyes’…Rastandius swore he couldn’t make but a single draught. It was too dreadful for me to continue drinking, so I kept the rest.”

“Do you think you’d have seen more if you had?”

Menisi shrugged as she removed the cork and sniffed the contents. She handed it to Vernoue, who wondered, belatedly, if a decade and a half of aging would turn this to poison.

“It’s not like—seeing the future in one, continuous stream, Vernoue. It is rather more direct than reading cards, but you have to think of it like hints. We are all raindrops falling into the sea, and even if we can see the future, it is but slivers of falling time from our limited vantage point and position, ever-changing.”

That sounded like proper mysticism garbage, but Vernoue realized there was some wisdom to it. She’d read books on chronomancy, and even the greatest [Time Mages] always gave her the impression they only knew half of what was actually going on.

“Do I need to…do anything?”

“No. Just drink. Oh, wait—”

Menisi walked off and came back with a pillow. She held it up.

“I’ll put this under your head when you fall over.”

“Ah.”

There was no ceremony to the moment, just a dusty bottle which made her sneeze, her elder sister, who was tasting more Selphid Dust and holding up a pillow with stains on it, and…

Vernoue took a hesitant swallow of the liquid in the bottle, and Menisi seemed impressed.

“You drank that without a moment’s pause. I had a far harder time, given how I had to get one of the ingredients out of Rastandius himself.”

The 5th Princess’ face was blank, then her cheeks bulged to spit the contents of the potion at Menisi, who began laughing.

“I’m joking. I’m j—”

Then Vernoue was falling. Falling through the dissolving world as the ground fragmented away and blackness roared across the world. She cried out—reaching up, because this wasn’t a trance or anything. She was actually falling, straight down, as the world above her froze and turned to glass that broke into a million pieces.

She fell, flailing and screaming, and a voice spoke in her ears. So vast it made her a flea, and the words ran through the thrumming heart of the world.

It said:

 

<I DID NOT EXPECT THIS.>

 

Vernoue froze as the words scorched her soul. They flashed all around her, and something was falling with her. A presence. The thoughts—if they were even thoughts; they were more like concepts given form—sounded surprised.

 

<THE DOORS WERE MEANT TO BE CLOSED FOREVER. ALREADY…THEY ARE NEEDED. FATE IS RACING.>

 

Something…inspected her. It knew her, her most intimate failures and desires, her levels, her class. Her desires and dreams.

She knew it too. The stunned [Princess] was in free-fall, and the voice continued.

 

<SO BE IT. BUT IT WILL NOT BE THE SAME MISTAKE AGAIN. NO SOULS WILL DIE. THE FUTURE IS WAITING, 5TH PRINCESS OF CALANFER.>

 

Then it raced down ahead of her. Like some vast, winged bird, more exotic than a Dragon, and when it unfolded its wings—

A piece of it broke off, and Vernoue was falling towards it. It revolved, a sliver of difference against the black void she was falling through, a surreal star.

It was a rectangle. No—a door. She reached for it, heart racing in hope, trepidation, and Vernoue passed through it. She thought she could still hear Menisi laughing.

Fate changed and fate was laughing, that rueful chuckle of plans falling to ash, the threads of reality weaving a pattern no one had foreseen. Not even gods—

The Grand Design was grinning.

 

——

 

Princess Vernoue of Calanfer didn’t reappear or wake up like she’d had a dream. One second her soul was flashing downwards, into that door, and then next, she was there.

She lifted her hand, and she was a different woman—and the same. Three years older, fingers pudgier, stained with wine, breathless, and afraid—and the Vernoue who had drunk the elixir.

But she was still Vernoue, and she gazed in shock at her hands. Then up at the grinning Goblin who aimed a bow at her.

“Your Highness!”

A Thronebearer threw himself forwards and took the arrow, which pierced through his golden armor. The Hobgoblin stepped back, up the familiar steps of the palace, and the air was filled with shouting.

“Hold them back! Defend the Eternal Throne! Execute the prisoner—”

The future. She was here! Vernoue wanted to ask questions, but what she realized was she was in danger. So she said:

“[Mezaat’s Orbs of Radiance]!”

She fired three from above her, glowing miniature suns, a Tier 4 spell, without a wand, and gasped. But part of her knew it wasn’t her best spell, not by far—she wasn’t sure what the Goblin could do.

He tilted his head and whirled his bow up. He fired one arrow, which zig-zagged through each orb, and looked annoyed when the last one blew the arrow to bits instead of letting it carry on its way. He whirled as Calanferian [Soldiers] streamed up the steps, and Vernoue pointed again.

Spells! I’m higher-level! I can do this! She saw brave men and women, armed in Calanfer’s golden heraldry, screaming as they fought. Something was wrong with their eyes, though—but she couldn’t spare the moment to figure out what.

“[Grand Lightning]!”

It was a spell she knew well, Tier 5 magic. Vernoue aimed it at the Goblin with the bow, and she saw Goblins fighting side-by-side with him. Bare dozens, but they were holding back an army and were in the Eternal Throne.

Does this happen in the future? Or is it only one—

She saw the Hobgoblin with the bow raise it and his eyes narrow. The Vernoue of the future realized that she had made a mistake. He drew back on the bow and spoke a Skill. She didn’t hear what it was, but his arrow cut through the Tier 5 magic and traced a perfect line through the air. And her chest.

He seemed so guilty as he lowered the bow—and she was falling, a screaming Thronebearer pouring a potion over her, and it hurt. Oh.

It hurt—

 

——

 

“Defend the 5th Princess! Stop the Goblins!”

The scream in her ears made her jerk awake. Vernoue stumbled upright and saw she was along the great bannister of stairs of the palace of Calanfer. She was merely 27. Not much older or heavier—she felt someone yanking at her.

“Your Highness! Run! R—”

They came through the doors, a trio of Goblins. Just three. Vernoue had a wand in her hand, tipped with some glowing stone that was tiny but filled with magic.

Seith, her mind told her. She pointed down, and this time, she didn’t hesitate.

“[Valmira’s Cometstorm]!”

Huge, glowing comets shot down at the Goblins who halted when they saw the 5th Princess and the soldiers. One of them raised a staff; another charged forwards.

He leapt into the first comet, and it exploded. Roaring, he crashed through [Soldiers], swinging his arms around like battering rams. Vernoue’s eyes went wide. She aimed the comets at the other two Goblins, but one of them just dodged away; the third fired a spray of flames up, exploding the comets.

She had a pointed hat.

[Witch]. A flaming spray of magma shot towards Vernoue, and the 5th Princess conjured a barrier of light to deflect it.

“Princess! Get to the Eternal Throne! We’ll hold them here!”

A Thronebearer screamed, and she protested.

“But what’s happening?”

No one answered her. The soldiers were meeting the Goblins in battle, but the trio were scything through them. The huge brute was crushing heads with his bare hands, and the [Witch]—Vernoue blocked another rain of lava, and the third Goblin fired a bolt that went through a dozen Humans before detonating.

Who are these Goblins? Vernoue only knew that she had to fight. She was powerful! She drew harder on the seith-crystal wand, and a Tier 6 spell began to form overhead.

“Spellcaster.”

The huge Goblin pointed, and the shortest of the Goblins glanced up. She hefted something and pointed it at Vernoue.

“Don’t.”

Then, Vernoue recognized the Goblin. The one from the television? She locked eyes with Chieftain Rags and hesitated—then hurled a real comet down, a chunk of stone glowing red-hot, and saw even the huge Great Goblin falter.

The short Goblin sighed and shot Vernoue through the neck. Her eyes were crimson, pained, but there was something in them that was wrong—

 

——

 

This time, she was in a palace, a surreal place of endless corridors, and she was just Vernoue. 

5th Princess, and her best spell was [Ice Spike] or [Light Arrows]. She was firing behind her with her wand.

“Run! Run!”

Someone was bellowing in her ears, and she turned and saw it was Queen Ielane. The entire royal family, minus Lyonette, was running. Behind them came—Crelers.

“To the exit! One of us must survive!”

Reclis was winded. He fell behind as Aielef ran, and Prince Agenote, the 1st Prince, carried Ellet, a sword in hand.

“Father!”

Seraphel turned and tried to pull him, but the wave of Crelers was pouring over Thronebearers without time for the warriors to even swing a sword. Vernoue fired spells helplessly at a huge shape racing towards them. Adult Creler.

It was ignoring her spells. Queen Ielane turned and pushed Vernoue.

“Run!”

She threw out an arm, and the wave of Crelers stopped. One second—two—and Vernoue saw them break as Ielane’s nose ran red. Reclis tried to stumble back, pulling her, and then the Crelers covered him and Ielane. Vernoue was screaming, kicking at them, seeing Agenote charging at her, Ellet shrieking as Seraphel tried to carry her onw—

Fangs in her neck. Searing pain—

 

——

 

“Stop!”

Vernoue screamed and covered her head. She didn’t want this! Not this—helplessness! She’d come to see her future. Not death.

Archmage. She’d been promised she’d be—the weeping 5th Princess had a wand in hand. She could cast Tier 4 magic. But it didn’t matter.

The undead were coming from all sides. Leading them was a howling man with white hair and black eyes she knew full well.

“Calanfer!”

The Necromancer’s [Deathbolt] blasted through her barriers in three shots, and Vernoue thought even his eyes—

 

<YOU WISH TO SEE THE ARCHMAGE? VERY WELL.>

 

Then she saw the Grand Design smile.

 

——

 

The Archmage of Dawn was shaking, her robes covered with soot. Her ears rang with the sounds of explosions.

Lord Xitegen Terland was dead. The army of the Southern Alliance was crumbling. The girl was gone, and so was the Goblin Lord.

Where…? She knew it all, but dimly. It didn’t matter.

He was standing across from her. A smile visible through his torn helmet.

The Goblin King.

She had never been mightier. The Level 63 [Archmage of Radiance] aimed a wand at his heart, and death was leaning on her shoulder. She tried.

“[Second Blazing Sun]. [A Hundred Thousand Arrows of Dawn]!”

She hurled a blazing orb at him and fired so many spells at once that the crisscrossing showers of magic left trails over her vision.

He cut through the orb and ignored the spells raining down on his armor. The Goblin King lunged, and she gasped as a sword pierced her chest. She gazed into those crimson eyes and saw it. This time—

 

——

 

The Goblin King was grinning.

He waited for the Archmage of Dawn to catch herself, then attacked. Dodging spells, leaping under them and cutting through them as her soldiers tried to shield her. She flew up, and he threw his sword. It cleaved through her—

 

——

 

“Archmage, you have to hold off his advance!”

A fat [Lord] with amazing thighs was shouting in her ear. She was hovering above a battlefield with explosions, and her heart trembled as she saw the armored figure pause and peer up at her. Floating [Knights] were poised to dive.

“Is this where I die?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it. Fight, damn you, Archmage of Calanfer! For the shattered Eternal Throne!”

Then she saw what she had to do. Vernoue raised a staff and dove as the stars themselves fell on the Goblin King. Then she was laughing, insane. All the magic of legends at her fingertips. And she couldn’t—

 

——

 

The 18th time he cut her apart, she finally realized who or what she was facing. The Archmage of Dawn, no, 5th Princess Vernoue, raised a wand, and her knees shook.

“You’re…not the Goblin King. You’re it, aren’t you?”

He was grinning like a child. The [Soldiers] were baying for his blood, but when she looked around, at the Goblins, the Humans, in every eye, she saw it.

A spark of gold in the heart of each one. Like she were surrounded by puppets, all filled with the same being. It was in the Goblin King, and he beckoned.

The only things that were real were her and it. Vernoue was shaking.

“It hurts. It hurts.”

Dying hurt. She felt like giving up, fleeing, and as if her thoughts allowed it, she felt herself drifting away. The Goblin King, no, the Grand Design, watched her, and Vernoue steadied. Then—concentrated.

“Not yet. Not yet. Is this my future!?”

She screamed at the Goblin King, then raised her wand. Then all she had to do was carve out proof of her victory! Her—

 

——

 

55 futures. Vernoue was throwing up as concerned [Soldiers] asked what was wrong. Her head rose.

She was standing on Chandrar’s shores as a Terandrian Crusade fought against the forces of a terrible army. The King of Destruction was flanked by his Seven.

They all wore the same grin. Vernoue was shaking.

“Just once—”

Who was she? Vernoue, who’d joined the Terras faction but never become an Archmage. Vernoue, sent to fight the King of Destruction before he could siege the other continents. The King of Destruction’s army had pushed them against the sea.

She advanced, firing spells madly, using the knowledge of her life and disregarding the cries for her to fall back. She just had to kill him. To—

 

——

 

Takhatres was too fast. The Goblin King too invincible. Even the lesser Goblins—each time, Vernoue was wrong.

Too weak.

The Marchioness of Tourvecall had training, but even two decades of it and exposure to the Kingdom of Incantation’s mana-rich environments had only left her at Level 40. Enough to be considered a great [Mage].

Not enough for this. She lowered her wand, and the floating woman dropped down further.

“What’s wrong, Princess? Not sporting enough for you? I’ll fight you without using either arm. Or my tongue.”

The Death of Magic was laughing. Vernoue snapped her wand up and fired a barrier-piercing spell—Silvenia just dodged around it and produced a gigantic magical battleaxe.

“Am I just to die?”

Vernoue screamed up at the air.

 

——

 

126. The Archmage of Sunlight woke up without war or battle around her. She turned to the slumbering form of Archmage Eldavin beside her.

She began laughing, and she thought that golden glow was almost guilty as he sat up and asked what was wrong. Her finger blew off part of his head, but he survived. And she—

 

——

 

Battles were kinder. Kinder than waking up in a version of Vernoue who had been married away or compromised something about herself. That made her feel…squished. Wrong. As if something had broken inside of her to fit her in a loveless marriage.

170, exactly, and she was losing her will. She woke up with a collar on her neck in the courts of the Naga.

171. She was screaming as she fought the Goblin King, and it was far, far better, screaming—

174. She was a Level 30 [Princess] at twice that age, sitting bitter and unwed in the Eternal Throne, snapping at a great-niece who fled her as the Thronebearers tried to make her shut up—

 

——

 

“You are so…very unkind.”

Vernoue levered herself onto one knee as the Goblin King waited. That seemed to be…the favorite future. A third of all of them were just this.

She couldn’t beat him. He seemed to…adapt to anything she did. Any spell, he would counter. That intelligence in his eyes was having fun, she thought. Unleashing the full potential of the Goblin King. Even when she had the power to grow entire mountains and collapse them on his head—he just shoved them apart.

Is this what Menisi saw? Lifetime after lifetime of regrets where Ielane ruined her and us? Vernoue wavered a second, and she was dead—too fast.

She wasn’t meant to win this.

 

<VICTORY IS IMPOSSIBLE. WILL YOU GIVE UP?>

 

——

 

She could have. It would be so easy, knowing this was impossible. That voice wouldn’t lie.

…It wasn’t why she was fighting, and they both knew it.

377. Vernoue lifted her wand, and maybe she had gone mad. A roaring Dragon made out of golden light was descending across the battlefield, and she swept its radiant breath down over the Goblin King, who merely lifted a shield.

She was going to die. But she conjured a rain of stars to cover the little white Gnoll girl’s escape. Why she was here—Vernoue didn’t know.

A future set in stone? One already come to pass? But the 5th Princess burned spells, exhausting even this [Archmage]’s body beyond its mortal reserves.

The Goblin King didn’t even bother killing her this time. He merely walked through the last spell dragging pieces of the world into another dimension and stood there.

Half of her was melting—the other half turning into crystal that shattered on contact with the air. The dying [Archmage]…was smiling.

<“Will you continue?”>

It asked her. Her voice rasped as she forced the words out.

“Just a bit—longer.”

She didn’t have the will of legends to do this even a thousand times, let alone unto infinity. She was breaking before these many lives, and her soul wouldn’t retain the magical knowledge or the experiences, she was sure. That would be cheating.

…But there was something she had to have. Just like Menisi had gained from this potion.

Conviction.

She drew in breath through dissipating lungs and breathed magical flames over the Goblin King.

 

——

 

399. One last time. Four hundred was…enough. The Archmage of Dawn lifted her wand and let him have it. He just walked at her, perhaps bored of this little game. But she kept casting spells until the sword rose.

Perhaps even the Grand Design was impressed. If it was, it didn’t quite understand her. What kept the 5th Princess’ soul blazing bright was no altruism. No conviction this was ‘real’ and that she wanted to save the army. Or even the little girl.

Nor was she training herself through the power of fate—she was pretty sure that wasn’t allowed. She just wanted to know one thing:

So this is what it feels like. The 5th Princess stepped back, and her head swivelled left and right. She threw up a hand, defiant, and a hundred thousand voices were cheering for her, screaming her name. A [Lord] bowed to her as the blade fell.

So this is what it feels like to be an [Archmage]. To be a heroine leading armies. Vernoue memorized it, then at last—let herself wake.

That way, she’d know if it was worth it. The last thing she saw was the smiling face of the Goblin King and those glowing eyes.

 

<EVERYTHING CHANGES. GOOD LUCK, VERNOUE. I’LL BE WATCHING.>

 

——

 

When she sat up, Menisi recoiled slightly. She saw Vernoue feel at her face frantically, then try to stand.

“Easy. Easy—what did you see? You were under far longer than I was.”

An hour had passed, and Vernoue’s head was spinning. She didn’t quite remember…parts of it were clear, but she felt like someone had been speaking to her. She couldn’t recall. The future was hazy, but pieces of it were clear, like letters spelled out vividly with sharp recall.

“I think I found what I was looking for.”

“Well, of course. The potion gives that to you.”

Menisi sat back on her heels, patently curious, and Vernoue’s head rose. She felt sick. She could recall—no, it wasn’t that vivid, but it still flashed through her, and even the echo made her feel weak.

“I think I saw myself failing. Again and again, and the future Mrsha promised me…It was…a terrible one. Everyone I loved was dead.”

“Including me?”

Vernoue hesitated, and Menisi laughed.

“I’m joking. In that future, you and I never shared words.”

The 5th Princess kept staring, and then she spoke.

“I…didn’t know you. In any of the futures. Not one. The future’s already changed, then. But I know who I was. And I had so many regrets. Each and every time. But I know what I wanted to find out. Whether the magic was worth it. I—I don’t even remember what spells I could cast or exactly what that was like.”

She was indignant about that. She was sure she’d been some kind of high-level [Mage]! A [High Mage], at least, but the details entirely escaped her! Menisi crouched, eyes bright.

“And what did you find out?”

“Whether it was worth it. Whether it felt—worth all the pain, the suffering, to reach that high.”

Menisi waited, and Vernoue raised her hands up, then conjured a simple ball of light. It began to glow as she poured mana into it. Brighter and brighter, until Menisi had to shade her eyes. As if Vernoue were trying to conjure the image of a Tier 6 spell.

“The day I drank that potion, I swore to kill our mother. It could lead you astray. It won’t guarantee you reach that future, Vernoue. But if you’ve made up your mind—then I suppose I shan’t offer you the chance to live with me after all. I doubt you’d enjoy it, anyways.”

The 5th Princess blinked, and Menisi smiled crookedly. She had a wine glass in hand, and she lifted it up.

“To becoming something more than one of Ielane’s little perfect children!”

She drank, and Vernoue rose as well. The younger woman stood there, then she smiled.

“I remembered something else I once said. Future-me, to myself.”

“Oh?”

This time, the crooked eyebrow turned into an expression of genuine surprise as Vernoue threw her arms around Menisi’s shoulders.

“I’d rather be you than Shardele. Menisi—can you help me? Please? I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

The 2nd Princess of Calanfer blinked, then chuckled. She tossed the wine cup aside and embraced Vernoue.

“I think I’ve been waiting for years for one of you to ask.”

She kissed Vernoue on the forehead and then again on the nose, then went for a third one. Vernoue stomped on her foot hard before it got weird.

 

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

This was a mini-chapter, but then it got too interesting to become a minor chapter. I plan to release the other half, then perhaps a special poll chapter, and then take my break. The ‘poll chapter’ will be interesting, but I hope you’ll like it, even if it’s unconventional and perhaps unsatisfying?

We’ll see, but I hope you like our look back to Calanfer! Calanfer…which would be a great place to visit, you know. We didn’t get into the tourism angle, because we’re seeing through Vernoue’s eyes, but if you’re not royalty or on the blacklist, it’s a great place to be.

Also, I have a special piece of fanworks to feature this chapter—some amazing [Singers] have done a rendition of Great Plains Sing, and they brought the silly lyrics I wrote into life. I’m always blown away by what fans do, and I hope you give the video a listen and a like!

In other news…it’s hot. I have family visiting for the summer, so I might be slightly more busy and unable to devote 100% to writing, but I hope to still come out with some good chapters. Who knows, maybe it’ll make me write a shorter chapter?

Well, I am assured double rainbows exist, and I hope you like this Vernoue chapter and the other ones! Thanks for reading!

 

 

Great Plains Sing has been brought to life by amazing fans of The Wandering Inn! Give it a listen and some applause! You readers of the story create such amazing art, music, tattoos, dolls, and more.

 

Vernoue by Sehad!

 

Queen Marquin by Brack!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/brack

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Brack_Giraffe

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/brackgiraffe.bsky.social

 

Diplomacy by onionLittle!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/littleonion

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/littleonion.art/

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/onionlittle.bsky.social

 

Shardele and Seraphel by Lanrae!

 

Lyonette by Kaitlyn!

 

General Lyonette by Chalyon!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/chalyon

 

---

Previous Chapter Next Chapter