Interlude – Halfseekers (Pt. 1)

And then they had sex.

The sex was spontaneous. Organic—dead bodies were still technically organic, right?—and fun. The Selphid jumped on the giant Dullahan, wearing a fresh Drake’s body, and Maughin made a surprised, gratified sound.

“Again, Jelaqua? Are you sure we won’t wear out your body—?”

“Hey, all the nerve endings are intact, and we’re married. Get that codpiece off, you silly [Smith]!”

The details of the sexening were not necessary. It was common enough in Maughin’s 7th Floor home, next to the smithies, that if they didn’t have soundproofing spells, the neighbors would have definitely called the Watch. But as it was, the rather large home with rooms and hallways sized for someone of Maughin’s considerable height—nine feet—was rich.

Soundproofing spells on the walls and even a miniature forge attached to the Dullahan-style building with its crablike design and thick, thick walls were signs of wealth. Just like the glass windows and marble flooring in the entryway.

Of course, other Pallassians thought such houses, sometimes referred to as ‘Dull Houses’, were eyesores. They didn’t show off like traditional Drake architecture, and Dullahans favored an austere style of wealth. Like…stone flooring instead of putting a carpet down everywhere. Cold as hell unless you lived in your padded armor. Or were a Selphid.

Jelaqua didn’t mind it at all. She’d been actually very nervous about having to take care of a garden. She’d heard it was traditional for wives to do gardening when they got married, but Jelaqua had the opposite of a green thumb. And stone floors meant you could sweep it a lot easier than having to beat a bunch of carpets—and she wasn’t quite down with hiring a [Cleaner] or help.

It was little things like that which helped the married life.

And the sex.

 

——

 

Afterwards, they lay together in post-coital bliss, and Jelaqua grew insecure in about sixteen seconds after happily laying with Maughin. They weren’t cuddling as Dullahans didn’t really do that. The armored folk of Baleros were private, so Maughin’s armor came back on the moment they were done—his interior ‘self’ was a lot more sensitive and vulnerable than even regular Human flesh, so, again, like a crab, he instinctively covered up.

Dullahans were an odd species even by the standards of the myriad groups in this world. They were more divergent from the typical humanoids—a half-Elf, for all their longevity, had most of the same biological functions as a Human, but Dullahans were more different, with detachable limbs and armored bodies. Weirder. Harder to understand.

As a Selphid, Jelaqua related. The fact there was a Dullahan community in Pallass made them outsiders, even if there were generations of native-born Pallassians here. But Maughin had come from Invictel; he was a Dullahan who knew home and pined for it.

One of the reasons they’d liked each other when they met. Strangers far from their homeland. But you found a new home wherever you went—and love? Oh, she’d found it at last.

Jelaqua Ivirith, former Gold-rank Captain of the Halfseekers, Selphid, [Steelforged Whirlwind], the Selphid known as ‘Jelaqua the Tempest’ during her time as a mercenary in Baleros, lay in bed. Happy. Again, for sixteen seconds. Then she peeked at Maughin.

His head was on the bedside stand, having come off his body. It was reading a book; he’d been too distracted to read a minute ago, but now he had reading spectacles on and was perusing ‘Ponderings on Metallurgy, A Treatise on Forgotten Metals and Ores of the Waning World’ by some writer. He had a smile on his face, but Jelaqua coughed anyways.

“Um—that was fun!”

“What? Oh, yes, very.”

Dullahans weren’t that expressive, so that sounded dismissive, but it was actually encouraging. They were shy too, in a way. Jelaqua paused, then went on.

“I don’t think my body’s bad. It doesn’t smell, right? And it’s holding up in all the right places? Nothing—mushy?”

This time, Maughin had to pause a moment. The nature of Selphids was that they inhabited dead bodies. You had to be okay with kissing an animated corpse, but even he had limits. Jelaqua worked hard on her ‘social’ bodies to make sure they were preserved and, well, not corpse-like. He coughed as his body stretched out a hand to cover his mouth.

“Yes. Very fresh, Jelaqua.”

“That’s great, um, Maughy. Dear.”

They both paused. The nickname wasn’t quite landing. After a moment, Maughin’s body turned, and he regarded Jelaqua with his head.

“I enjoyed it, Jelaqua. I always do. You don’t have to do it because you think I want to.”

He blushed faintly. He was so open and direct compared to some Dullahans—but they were in private. Jelaqua relaxed a bit.

“Who, me? Of course I enjoy it! I just worry…aw, nevermind.”

Relieved, she rolled over in bed. Maughin went back to reading, and Jelaqua sighed. Married life. Her, a Gold-rank adventurer, married. She couldn’t believe it. She was still so happy.

And terribly sad. Moore and Ulinde. Jelaqua closed her eyes, but she didn’t cry or Maughin would think it was his fault.

The Halfseekers are gone. And it’s my fault. We saved lives. It’s over. I’m married now. Be happy, be happy—

It was easier when they were like this. She could believe the world was indeed that sparkling rainbow of happy-ever-after she’d wanted as a small Selphid. But then the sun rose. And the problem with married life—at least, with Maughin—wasn’t him.

Not him, the dedicated [Smith] who genuinely loved his strange new wife despite all her quirks.

No, the problem was being…well. Married to a Dullahan.

He had family.

 

——

 

Her name was Vhiren Dulamet, a common last-name. She was a [Baker], Level 28; nothing special, but she had enough to operate a bakery with her husband, Mordol, and they had a son working as an assistant [Baker] on the 7th floor of Pallass.

Not prosperous; they were middle-income at best, but they’d moved up in the world, literally, since their son was Pallass’ best [Smith]. Vhiren was 5’6’’ and had decorated metal armor that was quite elegant and impressive given her actual status. Again, made by her son. She had grey hair cut in a short bob, and her armor was polished white, which actually worked well because flour didn’t get that noticeable on it.

Jelaqua feared her more than an Adult Creler. Every time Maughin’s mother came over, she squirmed around inside her body, and Vhiren came by so often.

“I brought bread, Maughin. Fresh-baked. I hope you are eating well?”

“Very well, Mother. Jelaqua was just making breakfast. Will you eat with us?”

Vhiren hesitated.

“Oh. No. I have eaten. I will just sit and talk. Is there tea?”

Such polite words. They hid levels of meaning so deep you had to be there to understand the nuances. For instance, Vhiren was sitting with her head on a table as Maughin’s body fed him breakfast. Her body was moving about Jelaqua and Maughin’s living room-kitchen, opening cupboards, ostensibly to put the fresh bread somewhere.

Investigating. Critiquing. And the dialogue—well. Bringing fresh bread to her son was a natural thing for a [Baker] to do! It didn’t imply that Jelaqua was failing to keep the household up.

The same with not being hungry—it wasn’t a deliberate slight against Jelaqua or a refusal to eat what the Selphid was making. Unless you read it that way. The same with the comment about tea that Jelaqua instantly began to make.

You should have made it already. I can’t believe this is my son’s wife.

Vhiren didn’t say it, and her face was too polite to suggest it, but she didn’t like Jelaqua. Maughin, by contrast, was very respectful to his mother and made small talk about their business, the things in Pallass—Jelaqua joined him for breakfast, which was roasted corn-on-the-cob with a hearty side of braised beef dipped in a sauce she’d bought from a local [Saucemaker], very good.

Maughin’s mother eyed the food.

“Such interesting cuisine, Miss Ivirith. Do you not know any traditional meals? I could lend you a cookbook.”

Jelaqua hesitated, wiping her hands on a towelette. She tried to smile at the old Bagrhaven.

“I, uh—I know a few recipes, but I’d love to borrow a cookbook, Miss Vhiren!”

She was spared from having to say more by Maughin glancing up from a newspaper he was reading. He spoke with the hint of a frown.

“I like her cooking, Mother. I asked for the corn. It comes from a specialist [Farmer] up north. I had it once in Liscor and liked it. I am working long hours at the smithy today as well.”

“Oh, of course. Which farmer is it?”

Instantly, Vhiren abandoned her line of questioning. The slight at calling Jelaqua ‘Miss Ivirith’, the implication she couldn’t cook—they were all digs. And Maughin didn’t miss them. His frown, his slight censure of his mother…Jelaqua held her breath, feeling elated and unhappy.

Vhiren left soon thereafter as work was beginning. Maughin glanced out the window; it wasn’t even dawn yet. Both Vhiren and her son worked the early hours, and Jelaqua was used to it as a Gold-rank adventurer. When Vhiren was leaving with an empty basket, Jelaqua turned to Maughin.

“You didn’t have to—”

“She was being rude. I can tell, Jelaqua. I know everyone says females of any species talk in code, but it is direct enough if you listen.”

He put down his newspaper and began to clean his plate, and Jelaqua wrung the towel between her claws—she still had the Drake body.

“But you’re fighting with your family! It’s such a—a—”

A problem in Dullahan culture! Maughin censuring his mother in any way was already extraordinary. That she came over and they were civil was because they did care for each other, but the Dullahan’s face developed a stubborn cast.

“The rift began at our wedding. She will not relent; neither will I. I am not wrong. She will see it, or we will continue forging our opinions against each other.”

A Dullahan family drama. Jelaqua hung her head, and Maughin patted her arm.

“It is not your fault they are prejudiced. Come now, Jelaqua. How can I help you smile?”

Because he meant it, she smiled. It was even genuine as she kissed his head on the cheek, and he put it on his shoulders and prepared to head out for work in his forge on the 9th Floor.

“I’ll see you tonight! Good luck with the big wagon order! Is it all New Lands?”

He grumbled softly in his chest.

“New Lands or replacing what was bought up. Ridiculous. One moment they have no need for good wagon parts because ‘Wistram is superior’, the next everyone demands it because magic is missing from the New Lands.”

She grinned up at him.

“Nice to be appreciated?”

“I hate wagon axles. I’d rather work on the Adamantium…I will be back late. Please, do not wait up for me. Farrier Bealt is teaming up with my forge to handle a hundred and twenty wheels by midnight.”

Dead gods, that was a lot. Even for a [Smith] like Maughin who had lesser [Smiths] and [Apprentices] under his command—but he could do the work. Jelaqua nodded.

“I’ll be heading to that fancy get-together at lunch. You couldn’t…?”

He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot take an hour.”

She knew that and sighed. Then she smiled and pushed at the small of his back. She was so strong she could shove even him towards the door.

“Well then, get to it! Wait, your lunch!”

She grabbed a wooden box and hurriedly activated the cooling rune, then shoved it into Maughin’s hands. He smiled at her as he began to stride down the still-dark streets of smooth stone, towards the elevators and the 9th Floor. Jelaqua waved at him, then stood in the doorway a moment.

Around her, the dark homes of her neighbors were beginning to light up, and she inhaled the scents of Pallass through her dead body’s nasal passages. Whenever she had a fresh body, she savored every sense. She was lucky; she had plenty of dead bodies, and Pallass was big enough that she could get more. She could smell the faint whiffs of alchemy from above, baked bread from behind her, and the tang of metal which hung around Maughin’s house. She couldn’t tell if it was chilly or not, but the spring air felt fresh enough.

“Okay, Jelaqua, another day of marriage.”

She snapped her claws, then glanced over her shoulder. First order of business?

Replacing the towel she’d accidentally ripped by twisting it. The problem with being a Gold-ranker was that she was too strong. The good thing was she and Maughin were wealthy enough.

The bad thing about being married was…Jelaqua was still unsure what to do with herself. She hadn’t realized it, but being a [Loving Wife] was, uh, sort of hard.

She was a Level 38 [Steelforged Whirlwind] after the Winter Solstice. Lower-level than you’d think for an adventurer and mercenary’s life of over 33 years, perhaps. Too many other classes.

A Level 11 [Loving Wife], newly consolidated from her [Lover] class. Plenty of great Skills like [Body: Slow Decay] or [Body: Fresh Flesh] so she could be more living with Maughin and less horrifically gross. That was her real class, anyways. [Wife]. Her new life…the rest of it was behind her.

Level 23 [Mercenary]? A different life.

Level 26 [Bounty Hunter]? Another period, another continent. Consolidated into her main class with [Mercenary].

Level 6 [Sullen Fisher]? Never again, thank you. Jelaqua stretched and remembered a miserable Selphid girl pulling fish up on the shores of a village and then stared around the City of Inventions.

“Life’s good. It really is.”

She was fifty-eight years old, and she’d lived a lifetime of other classes and jobs. That wasn’t as long as it would be for a Human since Selphids could live longer if they didn’t get the Wasting. But it was a full life, unlike that of half-Elves. For an adventurer? Ancient.

Jelaqua would get used to the wife thing. The first thing she did, in fact, was try to make peace with Miss Vhiren.

It, uh, went as well as it always did.

 

——

 

Jelaqua waited for twenty-six minutes at Steelforged Loaves, the bakery that had an image of Maughin drawn proudly on the signboard. Only after she waited patiently that long did Vhiren send out someone from behind the counter to get rid of her.

“Miss Ivirith, can I help you?”

It was her son, Milden, a thirty-one year old Dullahan still living with his parents. Mordol, who was running the counter, didn’t look at Jelaqua, though some of the mostly-Dullahan customers were giving her the side-eye. They knew about her, of course, and the fight Maughin was having with his family. But no one said anything in public. Dullahans were terrible gossips.

“Hey, Milden, I’ve got some of that fresh corn from Farmer Lupp. I reckoned I’d share some.”

Jelaqua had a small bag of colorful corn and regular stuff from the north. It was very pricey, and she figured that if they tried it, the Dullahans would love it. Milden glanced towards his father as he took the bag.

“Thank you, Jelaqua.”

She smiled at Milden; of all of Maughin’s family, she liked him most, and vice versa was true.

“No problem. Hey, did you catch the King of Destruction tearing Nerrhavia’s Fallen a new one?”

He perked up a bit.

“I did. They cut the scrying spell too early. He rampaged straight through the pikes, just like you said.”

Jelaqua snorted.

“Ah, that’s what I keep saying. At his level, it doesn’t matter if pikes beat horses. You can’t out-number a guy like him. Back when I was in Baleros…”

She was going to spin him a yarn about her time as a commander when Mordol spoke up.

“Milden, the customers.”

The younger Dullahan stopped and gave Jelaqua a guilty glance. He bowed his head to his father, and Jelaqua waved a hand.

“Sorry, you have to go.”

She smiled at him as he got back to work. Then she stood around for a moment…until someone else approached her.

“Miss Ivirith. Good morning to you.”

The last member of Maughin’s immediate family was Linteca. She made Jelaqua’s stomach hurt less than Maughin’s parents, but it was still awkward around her.

She was twenty-eight. Youngest of the family—Maughin was nearing forty—and the least-respectable member. Before Jelaqua, she would have been considered the problem-child, but it seemed Miss Vhiren was getting on great with her daughter. Because her daughter’s isle of discontent had been eclipsed by Jelaqua’s moon of problems.

Linteca was a Street Runner, you see. Not a City Runner, which was respectable. She was twenty-eight, pulling minimum wage in a very unrespectable job in Pallass, even if she had enough work. The city needed Street Runners constantly with its millions of people. Even so, for a family like Vhiren’s…no.

Mordol had succeeded the family business and so was a good kid. Maughin was the great [Smith], a beloved class by Dullahans, and the best in Pallass, so unassailably fantastic despite his oddities with his wife; his parents would never disown him. But Linteca?

Jelaqua happened to know that Maughin gave her some gold each month so she could have more money to spend and so she didn’t have to live with her parents. Despite that, she didn’t like Jelaqua…Maughin thought it was a way for her to get on her parents’ good side.

“Hey, Linteca, how’s the running going?”

Jelaqua smiled, and Linteca bowed her head stiffly.

“It is busy as ever. I brought the towel to your door.”

“Oh. Uh—thanks. You know how it is. Maughin and I can’t mind our own strength.”

Damn, they’d given Linteca that job? Jelaqua flushed. Linteca gave her another bland expression.

“Yes, I am sure my brother cannot mind his strength.”

And Jelaqua was almost done with the passive-aggressiveness for the day. She wished she had a monster to punch. She smiled, tight-lipped. Her Drake’s tail curled into a knot, which made one of the Drake clients freeze in horror; Drake tails should not move like that unless a Selphid was controlling them.

“—Well, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got some fancy meetup to get to.”

“Oh, with who? Fellow adventurers? I thought they were all in the New Lands. Unless these are more retired veterans such as yourself?”

Linteca raised her eyebrows. Since Jelaqua was annoyed, she went petty and smiled airily.

“Adventurers? Oh no, it’s just some Walled Nobles. You know, a brunch between that sort? Maughin’s too busy to attend, but I figured they’d have good sandwiches.”

Mordol glanced up from the counter, and Linteca hesitated. Jelaqua just knew Vhiren would hear that. She hoped the old harridan exploded out of jealousy.

“I’ll see you later. Good luck running, kid!”

Jelaqua headed out of the store and then slumped as she left. Well, so much for mending bridges. Here would be a moment when she found a friend to vent about Maughin’s family.

If she had one.

But her team was gone, and in their absence…Jelaqua hadn’t really made a friend in Pallass. Not yet.

 

——

 

The problem was her social status and who she hung out with. As a former adventurer and current [Wife], Jelaqua didn’t have a circle to get together with. Ideally, it would have been Maughin’s friends or family, but the Dullahan community was pretty standoffish.

But hey, you were a new wife, you could hang with the others, right? Again, Jelaqua was handicapped because she was, unwillingly, not just some housewife, but a socialite.

Maughin was Pallass’ best [Smith] with Pelt gone. Which meant he ranked above your average household. He wasn’t old money, and so he lived on the 7th Floor, but he was important, so that was how Jelaqua found herself sitting in a parlor next to Drakes, Gnolls, and a single Garuda in the middle of high society.

She hated it here. All the other wives and husbands were heads of Guilds or Walled Nobility, and they had a bit of an elitist attitude towards a common [Smith]. Much less his adventurer wife.

And their conversation sucked.

“So, as I was saying, this New Lands venture is completely untenable. I’m pulling out my investments.”

“Really? Are you sure, Minsvi?”

A Drake [Wife] was speaking airily to the table they were all sitting around, and a few of the other wives gasped. They were mostly [Wives] with that exact class; not many people with a job had time to hang out in the mid-morning.

[Trophy Wives]. If not that exact class…they looked good. A Gnoll was turning to Minsvi as Jelaqua sipped on some coffee and munched on a decent sandwich. You’d think they’d have better, rich as they were, but it was just a crustless piece of bread with fancy ingredients and zero compositional ability. Minsvi nodded importantly.

“My husband—he works at the Merchant’s Guild, Miss Ivirith, just so you know, and he knows everything—he said that multiple [Merchant] expeditions have lost everything. Just everything! This Consortium of Enterprise he was following? The last [Message] they sent was that they’d lost all their magic, they were running low on food, and their hired help were threatening to rebel!”

“Dead gods! What a disaster!”

Everyone was discussing the New Lands, and the group tittered with dismay. Minsvi nodded as Jelaqua eyed the sandwich plate.

“I told him to pull all our money out, and you should too! There’s no profit in the New Lands.”

“But we have a caravan already on the way, and we’ve invested a 30% stake in it!”

Stressed, one Gnoll stood up and turned. She was Senator Eriff’s wife, around his age. Minsvi nodded to her.

“Well, get it back! It’s better than watching all the gold vanish. Even adventurers are fleeing the New Lands. After all, without magic or food, it’s hopeless, isn’t it, Miss Ivirith? You wouldn’t take your team into that nightmarish land, would you?”

In a heartbeat to get out of here. Jelaqua tried to smile around and noticed most of the [Wives] giving her fake smiles. They didn’t like a Selphid among them any more than the Dullahans. The problem was…few people were used to Selphids in Izril.

The dead body thing, her species, unnerved them. Jelaqua doubted she’d do this brunch again. She wished Maughin were here; at least then he’d be able to talk to the other husbands and she’d be able to stand with him.

Another problem Jelaqua had was her tongue. She just couldn’t hold it. Oh, she could be nice if she had to, but when she was asked a question, she liked to be truthful rather than to play into whatever people were saying. So she shrugged.

“Eh, my team? If it was the Halfseekers at full strength, we’d go into the New Lands. Mind you, we’d hate losing magic, but if we were forewarned, we’d do it.”

“What? Without magic or food?”

The group was askance, and Jelaqua took a sip from her teacup. She slurped too loudly; half of them winced, and the Garuda hid a smile behind her beak. Jelaqua blushed orange, but then she went on.

“Pardon me. Whatdya mean no food? You just mean we can’t grow it. There’s plenty to eat if you can hunt. My [Rogue], Seborn, he has a knack for sneaking up on things. So long as we’re around something edible, that’s food. And our [Green Mage], Moore…he could tell you what we could eat.”

Moore. She swallowed hard, but forced a smile and went on.

“No magic’s hard, but most [Mages] can generate a bit. Moore could…could have gotten some from the ground, I reckon.”

“But Miss Ivirith, what’s the point? If there’s no magic, all these ruins are worthless! Nothing to explore. No magical animals or plants!”

Miss Minsvi was determined to be a wet blanket. She waved a claw, and Jelaqua fixed her with a kindly eye.

“Aw, well, it seems bad right now, Miss Minsvi. I feel bad for all the folk who went in not knowing how tough it was. But there’s always something valuable in a place like that. The land itself.”

“Land where you can’t use magic? What use is that?”

Jelaqua counted on her fingers.

“[Farmers]. [Ranchers]. If there’s good ore, a [Miner] would be there. Free land is great, ‘specially if it’s not hard to clear and use. More than that? Sure, let’s say this magic-draining thing affects all the New Lands. Anything above Artifact ranking is still going to have magic in the ruins. Plus, there are highly magical beasts I’ve heard. You hear about The Adventurer’s Haven coming under attack?”

They had not. Jelaqua had to explain that.

“That’s a lot of value. Not easy value, but any adventuring team might hunt those monsters because that’s gear you could never buy. Most importantly, though, I think there’s one last trick to the New Lands.”

She was staring at the sandwiches, all of different types on the tray. Was she going to gamble on another one? She could use a bite, but that last sandwich had been pretty mediocre. Everyone leaned in.

“Which is…?”

Jelaqua blinked.

“Oh, well. If the magic’s all going somewhere, where’s it going? It’s always somewhere, right?”

That was just logic. She’d journeyed with enough [Mages] to know that. Jelaqua expounded on her statement as she reached for a sandwich.

“Seborn says that there’s places in the ocean that drain magic—but Drowned Folk reckon it’s a beast or something down there. If I were in the New Lands, I’d take my team hunting for the source of the mana drain. If it’s an object, spell, or monster, that’s where the money’s at. So I don’t know about pulling your money out of the New Lands. But if you’re saying there’s nothing there, I disagree. Politely.”

She smiled at Minsvi, who glowered as the other wives murmured. Jelaqua was about to take a gamble on a tasty-looking flatbread when someone reached out.

“Why don’t you take one of these, Adventurer Jelaqua?”

The Garuda woman passed her a seemingly fruit-filled sandwich that appeared highly suspect. Jelaqua hesitated, but decided to take the gamble. To her surprise, the ‘fruits’ were actually pineapple, which went decently well with some roasted chicken! She munched on it, pleasantly shocked it was made well.

“This is good!”

The other [Wives] were debating the New Lands venture more quietly, ostracizing her, but the Garuda woman leaned over.

“I made it myself, actually. You’re exceptionally knowledgeable, Miss Ivirith! Or is it Miss Dulamet? Forgive me, we’ve met at the last get-together, but Werdin and Maughin were talking the entire time. I’m Melika.”

“Oh, pleased to meet you. Wall Lord Werdin’s wife?”

The [Socialite] was vaguely familiar, and she had some colorful feathers and a hefty golden necklace with a huge emerald on it. Definitely the wife of a rich man—Wall Lord Werdin Blackwing was from one of Pallass’ biggest noble families.

For all that, Melika seemed genuinely friendly and fascinated.

“We have some business in the New Lands as well, so hearing it’s not a complete waste of time is a relief.”

“Ah, well, I wouldn’t put much stock in my words. Just seems to me that if they’ve bought all the goods and hired everyone, there’s not much gold to get back. Everything’s a huge gamble like this, so I’d bet on a big return rather than wasting most of my gold, you know? Not that this is advice!”

Jelaqua hurriedly clarified, and Melika nodded.

“Of course not, but I might repeat a bit of what you said to Werdin. He’s been so stressed…”

That was when Minsvi spoke loudly.

“Unless Pallass’ army can do something, I think he should be! Melika, your husband knows General Edellein, doesn’t he? Is there any news from the New Lands? I’d trust his opinion over a former adventurer’s any day.”

Melika frowned at her as Jelaqua sighed internally. But then the Garuda snapped back.

“Only some kind of super ice-bird, which, just as Miss Jelaqua said, is a sign the New Lands has magic! Minsvi, you’re being terribly rude. I think Miss Ivirith would be more happy to speak to anyone with earholes to listen—over by the window?”

Then she stood and beckoned to Jelaqua. The adventurer blinked, then rose, and Minsvi hesitated. But a third of her group glanced between her and Melika and clearly thought the Garuda was better to follow—when Jelaqua got up, another third decided to follow.

The two groups split, and then Jelaqua was staring down at a view of Pallass from the grand glass windows, and Melika was smiling at her.

“You were talking about The Adventurer’s Haven, Miss Ivirith? We went to it when they visited—such a grand inn! I had no idea it was in the New Lands!”

Jelaqua blinked at her, and the suddenly-attentive ladies, and then wondered if Melika wanted something from her. At the very least, she wasn’t being sneered at, so Jelaqua took another bite of her sandwich.

“Sure? The inn? It’s probably one of the most defensive structures in Izril. More than a fortress! Now, if it was under attack that bad…”

 

——

 

After an hour, Jelaqua decided she liked Melika. The Garuda might be a [Socialite], but she was sharp! Less of a vacuous airhead than her class and demeanor suggested.

Of course, she was still a rich lady of Pallass, but who wasn’t in this room? That she listened to Jelaqua was nice, and she had some weight socially speaking. Whether that came from her husband…

He showed up after an hour with some of the married men, who chatted awkwardly in groups of their own. There was a very funny gender divide with speaking with the ladies, but it seemed that Jelaqua was an exception as an adventurer.

“Adventurer Ivirith, I hear you had some opinions on the New Lands? Did you hear about the ice bird that stopped the entire Walled City’s forces for a day? I heard it took two Named-ranks to break the wall!”

Jelaqua was chatting with them and getting some intelligence on the New Lands, as if she would ever go there. She saw Werdin march over as the head of the Engineer’s Guild came in, took one look at the scene, and walked out.

Now there’s a fellow who doesn’t want to be here. Jelaqua had nothing better to do, so she stayed put. She saw Werdin grab Melika’s arm.

“Melika, did Salkis come back? I told you and the staff to grab her! She’s causing more trouble—”

“Salkis? What did she do this time? I don’t know—”

Ooh, marital troubles. Werdin growled at Melika for a few seconds before joining the conversation as if all was well. When he spoke, Melika went mostly quiet.

All of it put Jelaqua’s tendrils in a knot. Drake high society. Eugh. It was so…gendered.

She’d heard Terandria did the same. Most Selphid’s sense of ‘male’ or ‘female’ changed with whichever body they wore. Jelaqua was an exception in that she felt female, regardless, but she could definitely wear a male body if she needed to. You couldn’t be picky about that, but it led to complications that way, too.

Maughin definitely got weirded out whenever she wore a male body and wanted to get cuddly, but he didn’t do the ‘you must be silent when I speak’ thing.

Still, Werdin was impressed enough by her theories on the New Lands. He snapped his claws as he drank some wine.

“That’s an adventurer’s take. That’s what I want to hear! A bit of guts in the New Lands, not just pull the money and run!”

He nodded authoritatively, and suddenly everyone liked Jelaqua. The Selphid rolled her eyes as Minsvi piped up.

“Actually, I happen to know a few Gold-rank teams who are in the New Lands, Lord Werdin, if you were so interested…”

Jelaqua backed out of the conversation on the pretense of getting a drink. She sort of hoped Melika would follow, but the Garuda was glued to her husband’s side. Jelaqua ambled over to the drinks and blinked.

“Wine at this hour?”

She was no lush. Jelaqua grabbed some purified water instead and sighed.

“Ugh, it’s not being served in a proper bottle or glass. Tastes just like water.”

These rich people. She was topping her glass up when someone else poured themselves a drink of water, and Jelaqua saw a familiar Drake toss down the entire cup and fill another one.

“Wh—General Shirka? What are you doing here?”

None other than 2nd Army’s [General] was here! Shirka looked about as happy as Jelaqua had felt, but she turned and nodded at Jelaqua.

“Adventurer…Ivirith? Good to meet you. I’m attending this brunch by way of invitation. 2nd Army is reforming at Pallass.”

She nodded around, and Jelaqua frowned at her.

“Yeah, sorry about that disaster. I haven’t seen a force get beaten that badly since I was in Baleros.”

The Selphid feared she’d put her foot in the cowpat, but Shirka only stiffened a second before offering her a brittle smile.

“At least someone’s not sugarcoating it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You know us Balerosians. No tact.”

“Well, you would know war. As a former [Mercenary] yourself, I mean.”

“Hey, you know about that?”

“You do have a file, Adventurer Ivirith.”

Shirka favored Jelaqua with a faint smile, and the Selphid rolled her eyes.

“You Drakes and your files. So how’s it going? Burying the dead, attending the funerals—agh, it was never easy. Sorry.”

But the [General] didn’t seem to mind. She spoke as a few people drifted towards Jelaqua, then away when they saw Shirka. She was probably doing the political thing, which any commander had to, but she was definitely out-of-favor in Pallass. And she talked to Jelaqua with that familiarity both had with war and armies.

“It’s been a disaster, but it’s not my first war, if that makes sense. Frankly…the [Slayer] corps are ‘easier’ than most, because their classes meant most were single. Dedicated to the fight.”

“Ah. Their families knew what was coming?”

Shirka nodded, and Jelaqua shook her head.

“We had a few of those in Baleros. Not that I served with them—but you get loyalists to every species. Dullahans treat theirs the best, which is weird to say, I know. The Eternal Nobles—sorry, I forget their exact name. Selphids who follow the Minds get a bit weird, though.”

General Shirka grimaced.

“The [Slayers] were certainly a problem for any [General] who commanded 2nd Army. But they were an asset. The fact that they all perished under my watch…”

“Hey, a Goblin Lord and Goblin King appear and everyone dies. Mind you, I’d have pulled my army back rather than face that monster.”

“So would I.”

Oh. That was not a happy expression Shirka wore. Jelaqua hesitated.

“So what’s next for 2nd Army? Rebuilding?”

Shirka drained her cup and filled it, again with the water.

“Yes, retraining and recruitment. It’s a long process, though I intend to have 2nd Army ready for action within a month, if not ready for a war.”

She wasn’t beaten down; that was good. Jelaqua whistled.

“You can recruit that fast?”

“From the other armies and our allied cities? Yes. Bringing them up to standard is far harder, but we drill rigorously. The real problem is our…edge. Our Archmage’s card.”

“Your what now?”

Shirka waved a claw and tried to explain. She grimaced into her cup.

“Excuse me, I’m using internal slang. It’s standing policy for every army of Pallass to have a defining trait or characteristic that they can use against a foe. A ‘secret weapon’, but not that prosaic. 1st Army had exceptionally heavy armor and General Duln and Strategist Chaldion. 2nd Army had our [Slayers], and so on. General Edellein had a rather outstanding [Lieutenant] and a number of specialist units. Without one, we won’t be approved for combat until we find another edge.”

Jelaqua raised her brows.

“Sounds like a real problem to come up with in a few months’ time. Are they just giving out special forces these days?”

Shirka offered her a mirthless smile.

“Exactly. There aren’t many good options, and it is standing practice. This isn’t confidential, incidentally. I have only a few options. One of which would be to demand a hundred Eyes of Pallass with combat capabilities for 2nd Army.”

A hundred [Spies] serving in a combat role? Jelaqua winced.

“Yeah, they’d love taking orders from you. And wouldn’t ever disobey orders. I’d rather have a hundred kids.”

Shirka’s face said she would too.

“It’s one of the few ways I can claim to have a specialty—well, I’m looking into custom armor or something else that can qualify. The problem is that’s not a very genuine specialist unit, even if I arm our veterans up. And the only other option is—worse.”

She stared into her cup and shook her head. Jelaqua was impressed.

“Worse than a hundred [Spies]?”

“Oh, I didn’t believe it either. I’d rather have our [Slayers] again. Sometimes, I see Saliss’ point about Pallass. The things we don’t know and the sins of the city—like wielding a poisoned blade.”

Now, what did that mean? But Shirka didn’t elaborate; in fact, her gaze drifted away, and Jelaqua didn’t get any more from her. Then Werdin was bringing her back to discuss the war in Reim, and well—that was brunch.

It was entertaining enough, and Melika waved at Jelaqua afterwards.

“Miss Jelaqua, I’d love to do this again!”

“Hey, so would I. If you ever have a brunch like this, just invite me.”

Jelaqua smiled, and Melika promised to, but from the glower a few of the other wives gave her, Jelaqua doubted she’d be top of an invite list. Then she was free for the day. Jelaqua Ivirith walked around Pallass.

With nothing to do in the world.

 

 

——

 

Normally, Jelaqua enjoyed her downtime, but that was because it was between adventures. You just ate, relaxed, and knew the good times would end, and you’d be slogging through the mud towards a monster den. But what happened when the good times were forever?

She didn’t train. Oh, she’d swing her flail around now and then, but Jelaqua was no [Warrior] who needed to train muscles; she was a Selphid, and her body determined her strength. Nor was she quite down on wifely hobbies yet.

Cleaning their home didn’t take too long. Jelaqua didn’t garden, and Maughin wouldn’t be back until late, so there was no dinner to make; she’d already put some food in their Preservation Pantry for him to eat.

So she did what anyone with wealth in Pallass did.

Tried to find something to buy.

 

——

 

The Grand Bazaar on the 1st Floor wasn’t super-interesting to Jelaqua; she’d been there a lot, and most of the curios or knickknacks weren’t something she needed. So instead, she attended a more upscale place to spend money: the Mage’s Guild.

The one in Pallass always had the latest magical enchantments, spells, or services on offer. Jelaqua stood with a crowd of murmuring people as the [Mage] created magical, light-based illusions of their latest services.

They’re getting better at that. It used to be they just gave us fancy pictures. Jelaqua eyed some of the things with less interest—she’d seen the magical carriages that were all the rage.

Maughin doesn’t have time to travel, and we have the door. Plus, buying one of those is way outside even our budget.

Same with the Adventure Rooms—she’d seen real adventure, thank you. But there was more!

“We’re now offering advanced magical artifacts, citizens of Pallass! Have you ever wanted to talk to a friend in another city without going through the Mage’s Guild? Now, our Infinite Message Scrolls are 50% off! And we have a new, advanced Book of Messages with the ability to ‘connect’ to anyone anywhere in the world!”

The [Mage] had a book that didn’t really impress Jelaqua; any decent [Mage] could cast [Message]. What was better than a scroll? Which was tempting, though The Wandering Inn had something far better.

The poor Drake charged with selling these items had to cough at this point and mutter into one fist.

“ExceptionsapplynoteverylocationiswithinmagicalreachWistramtakesnoresponsibilityforfailurestoconnectormagicaldamageduetohostilemagicalinterference.”

A portly Gnoll in the front nodded to the [Mage].

“Gesundheit. Why is this book so special, Magus…? More pages means I could have multiple [Message] spells, but that’s not worth that price.”

He pointed at the price, which was sitting at eight hundred gold pieces for the book. Way too high for anyone but Jelaqua, who barely blinked at the fee.

Pretty cheap. Any Gold-ranker would get it, and that Scroll of Messages is only twenty gold? What a steal!

She was considering the scroll when the [Mage] flipped the book open.

“Ah, I’m so glad you asked, sir. This book is capable of creating a ‘chatting room’, wherein multiple people can speak on the same [Message] spell at once! With this, you’re no longer on a dedicated one-way communication spell you need to have a [Mage] link your scrolls to. You can, with ease, write the name of the chatroom up top, here…and voila!”

He wrote ‘Test Room 1’ up top, and instantly, the page filled with glowing text. Jelaqua blinked as she saw a bunch of writing appear.

 

Wistram Academy: This is a showcase of our new Chatting Room feature! Simply write the room you wish, and it will be created for anyone to participate in!

Pheislant’s Mage’s Guild: Exactly! You can also add colored text without needing new ink—in fact, these don’t use ink at all—your complimentary quill will write it for you! Reusable pages! Hello from Pheislant, the weather is cloudy with a chance of rain!

Reim’s Mage’s Guild: Speak to penpals across the world with ease! You can also have multiple conversations going on at once, and all our [Messages] are encrypted with Archmage Eldavin’s magic! The weather is hot and sunny!

First Landing’s Mage’s Guild: For an even more premium option, we offer spellbooks with quills that can auto-write for you as you dictate or read each message aloud! This is just one of the new items coming from Wistram Academy! It’s a bright, blue day over here, weather of 72 degrees! That’s 72 Feldivals’s, our new universal measure of heat!

Elvallian’s Mage’s Guild: ELDER CRELER ATTACK! ABANDON ALL HOPE! THERE ARE THOUSANDS POURING OUT OF THE GROUND! FLEE! FLEE FOR YOUR LIVES!

Wistram Academy: Identity verification services are also available for a small subscription fee! Be careful whom you talk to! Children under the age of thirteen are advised to have a parent when using this product. Wistram Academy will never ask for personal information…

 

What a product! If she’d had that when she was adventuring, Jelaqua would have been talking to other teams or back home…she was counting up their monthly budget.

She was rich. She had fifty thousand gold pieces from the Village of the Dead alone and a smaller fortune saved up, but Maughin didn’t want her to spend her money on him and vice versa.

Jelaqua was running a home like a good [Wife]. She was helping cook, supporting him, trying to fit into Pallass. Not because she felt like she had to conform to his parents’ vision of a respectable bride. She knew she’d never do that.

It was just that it was easier to throw herself into this life she had. If not, then she just had two more graves. A team she’d led to their deaths.

She’d go crazy, so worrying about a budget it was. Jelaqua hummed to herself as if she still couldn’t smell the snow and blood, hear the Hag Queen laughing. Healer Demerra had called it ‘disassociating’, but what did she know?

I’ll have to ask Maughin about this, but I think he’d love to have other [Smiths] on the line! More than one customer was asking about the book and if there were discounts for a smaller one—but the magic didn’t end there. The smiling [Mage] hurried over to another display.

“If you’re interested in our magical items, remember, Wistram Academy is the only institution with such magic, everyone. No one can compare! Any aspiring [Mages] can learn any Tier 4 spells with our new teaching program, and we are now offering dedicated spellcasts! For instance…[Vermin Purge]! Do you have a pest problem in your house? Do you suspect you do? A [Mage] can eradicate them all in a moment and ward your house with our new line of ward spells!”

Dead gods, he had everything. Jelaqua’s brows rose as the [Mage] began offering tons of crazy things. Not just new ward spells that were going to last longer than a year—they had a decade guarantee of good service!—he was showcasing the craziest thing yet.

“Archmage Eldavin is very sympathetic to those entering their advanced years, especially in homes with multiple floors. So, he has enchanted a ‘Magical Elevator’ which can rise and fall with ease. A simple flagstone or other object, even a cushion, becomes a free-floating object! This is a very pricey enchantment, but imagine it! Having an elevator like those around Pallass in your home! Without sound or breakdowns…”

Okay, that was it. Jelaqua actually stepped forwards at this point.

“Hey, I’ve seen a lot of magic in my time, and I have to try this.”

No one just made a [Levitation] spell like that, much less in an enchantment! It had to be fake—Moore couldn’t do that, and he was Gold-rank, and neither could Ulinde. If they could…

The Selphid tried her best to disprove the floating cushion. When it lifted her into the air and people gasped as she rose six feet, she did a huge hop and stomped on it.

The [Mage] below her flinched.

“Miss, Miss, there’s no guardrails or safety spells, you’ll hurt yourself—”

“Don’t worry; Selphid. I’m just testing—”

She grinned at him and then threw her weight from side-to-side, trying to destabilize the spell. If it was just a lifting spell, it’d go sideways and hurl…

The cushion didn’t move. To her dismay, Jelaqua swung herself under the floating object, trying to see if it was actually a sneaky spell that pushed up from below, but there was nothing to interfere with. She swung herself back on top of the cushion, and it was solid as a rock.

The [Mage] seemed incredibly smug as Jelaqua inadvertently sold the enchantment better than he ever could. As it lowered her down, he spoke.

“Invest in your old age or just add a phenomenal new spell to your home today!”

Speechless, the Selphid stood there. She stared down at the levitating cushion and felt, suddenly, old. And young.

This is magic of a kind we never had. Everyone was wide-eyed, gathering around it. It made her feel like a Bronze-rank adventurer seeing a [Fireball] for the first time. And Jelaqua thought—

If this is what they’re coming out with now, what will the world be in a year’s time? Who the hell is this Archmage Eldavin? 

He was truly an Archmage like the old ones, then. Jelaqua wondered, as the [Mage] began informing people they had backlog on orders and receiving his first requests—

How much money is Wistram making on all this?

 

——

 

Jelaqua went drinking that night. Not because she was depressed about the advancement of magical technology—that was actually fun. She just…had nothing else to do.

Seriously, she was as bored as a leech on a War Walker’s back. The Selphid took a mug of ale in hand and sat herself down at Tails and Scales, savoring a hot fry-up of noodles and meat from Lasica. Rufelt was at the bar, slinging drinks, and she was grousing to her only friend in Pallass. Acquaintance? Bar-partner?

Her team was gone. Jelaqua drank deep from the ale, then began to eat with the chopsticks.

“I just feel like there’s more to life than breaking in the new bedspread, you know? Not that I mind that. I reckon we’re going for one to three times a day. Two on average.”

“Uh huh. Wow. That seems like…a lot?”

Jelaqua frowned as she slurped up some noodles. Rufelt glanced at her and her partner; he was probably listening, but busy, and he seemed to like her. Her partner…well, they both were allowed in here.

“Maughin sometimes says so, but I don’t hear him stopping me, you know? I think he’s just worried I’m forcing myself to do it. Which—not the case. Dullahans get a bit prudish about sex. But between you and me—we’re all over it. Positions and everything.”

“P-positions?”

Her partner was eating their stir-fry and listening hard. Jelaqua lifted two fingers.

“Yep. He knew two. But we were doing this yesterday. And then this—wait, I need both hands for that.”

Even Rufelt had to turn and stare. After a second, the young man sitting next to Jelaqua swallowed.

“Whoa. Doesn’t that—take a lot of effort?”

She winked at Troydel.

“Selphids don’t get tired. And a [Smith]’s got stamina for days. So where was I? Right, the sex. You can really switch it up. Like—today I’m a Drake. Yesterday, I was a Human. Makes a difference.”

“R-really?”

She nodded, and Troydel’s cheeks were red as he listened. Jelaqua wondered if this was her life now. Troydel, the Earther who worked as an [Engineer] in Pallass, was her only friend.

Barmate.

Whatever. He definitely seemed really interested in all her talk about sex, which she had to admit, she was probably more open about than most women he’d met. She drained her mug.

“It’s a lot of fun, but you can’t fill an entire day with sex. Well, you can—but then he gets sore, and without healing potions—Maughin has work. So what do you do between all of that?”

She had no job. Jelaqua slumped at the bar.

“We do plenty of stuff together; it’s not that Maughin doesn’t make time. But I need a hobby for myself, you know? He’s happy to either be together or alone. If I’m not around, he’s always working on his mistress over a hot fire.”

Troydel and Rufelt both turned to stare at Jelaqua until they recalled she was talking about the block of Adamantium that Pelt had given Maughin. She called that his mistress, which had resulted in a number of very funny misunderstandings…

“How’s the Adamantium going? No one in the Engineer’s Guild says we’ve got that.”

Troydel swallowed his bite of food, and Jelaqua shrugged.

“Eh, he’s figured out how hot it needs to be to forge. So hot he can’t do it, not in Pallass. He nearly melted a hole into the 9th Floor—wait, speaking of, there’s my big lad!”

She saw the familiar figure bow his head as he entered Tails and Scales. Maughin smiled when he saw her; he was covered in soot and smelled of smoke.

“Jelaqua, I thought you were here. I finished early.”

“Maughin!”

She leapt up, and he eyed her mostly-finished plate. Troydel waved at him, and Maughin nodded to him with little more than brief recollection.

“Do you want to sit here or…?”

“I’ve got dinner for you! Let’s go back to our home. You’re filthy! Rufelt—”

“I’ve got your tab, Jelaqua.”

Rufelt waved at her, and Jelaqua followed Maughin outside, beaming.

“So, how was work?”

He grimaced.

“Boring. And I had a setback with my new smelter and forge. I can’t get anyone willing to build me an Adamantium Forge—no one knows how! All the [Engineers] are too busy, somehow. For Adamantium?”

He began complaining, and Jelaqua listened sympathetically.

“You’d think they’d want it.”

“I would, but something’s going on. The Guildmaster of the Engineer’s Guild, Chief Bellien, told me everything’s being diverted. And I can’t forge it without something far hotter than even a Mithril Forge! I just don’t know how, and I’ve had the block for months…I’m failing Master Pelt’s expectations.”

“Come on, Maughin, don’t get down. You’re not a failure. It’s Adamantium. If you learned to forge it in ten years, you’d still be on-track!”

She was then preoccupied with cheering up her husband, and she guided him back up as he grumbled about wheel axles and a new [Apprentice] who wasn’t pulling his weight. Jelaqua was glad to fuss over Maughin and hear him out. She got him dinner in his home and helped clean his armor.

And then they had sex.

 

——

 

The next day, Jelaqua saw Maughin off for work without his mother, which was a relief. She stood in their entryway for a long moment when he was gone, then scratched at her head.

I have nothing to do today. Nor did she want to wander Pallass. So there was only one thing she could think of. The thing she’d been avoiding.

She took a breath, then steeled herself. Jelaqua marched out the door, then came back in and double-checked she had the Demas Metal flail in her bag of holding.

Just in case.

 

——

 

The Wandering Inn hurt like an open wound. It was laid open; a product of the latest disaster, apparently.

She didn’t know.

She hadn’t been visiting. When Liska saw her come through the door from Pallass, she waved Jelaqua back.

“Hey, no need to pay! [Ignore Restrictions: Magnolia’s Fees]. Good to see you, Jelaqua!”

“Thanks.”

Jelaqua smiled weakly at the Gnoll. But the Selphid didn’t enter the inn right away. She stood in the entry hallway for a long time, listening to the rain falling.

Here…no, they hadn’t died here. They’d died at Liscor’s northern gates. She should leave some flowers there, though the rain would wash them away. Here was where a lot of smiles had taken place. Some tears, some Crelers.

Jelaqua walked towards the door and hesitated. She rested a hand on the wood—then stepped aside swiftly. An Antinium nearly ran over her.

Rosencrantz? The Worker recoiled and then smiled.

“Miss Ivirith, you have come to the inn! Welcome! It has been so long.”

“Hey, Rosencrantz. I’m just stopping by. Sorry I wasn’t here for the…”

Jelaqua waved a hand, but the Antinium was opening the door wider. She hesitated.

I shouldn’t be here. I don’t even know if someone died—I didn’t come running when the Goblin King emerged. She’d thought about it, but Maughin had seemed so afraid that she’d just stood outside the door to Pallass and…let the [Soldiers] run through first. Not that it had been open, but she hadn’t gone. Not like Saliss.

Yet the Antinium was beaming at her.

“Let me get a good table for you. Please, enter! Miss Lyonette will be so happy, and Miss Mrsha. You have been gone for so l—”

Then he froze. Gazed at her as Jelaqua lowered her eyes.

“Oh.”

Yeah. The last Halfseeker in Pallass followed Rosencrantz to a table, and she saw his demeanor shift. To anxiety. To uncertainty. He didn’t know how to treat her.

Moore was dead. Ulinde was dead. They had fought willingly, but Seborn had just…left. No arguments, no fights like normal. He and she hadn’t killed each other with recriminations. She deserved it, but he always knew how to twist the blade.

They could have run. They hadn’t. And they had paid that final price.

The Halfseekers were done. She hoped he was doing okay.

Jelaqua stared blankly at a menu and saw, out of the corner of her eye, Rosencrantz hurry over to another familiar face. Peggy. He whispered into her ear, and she brightened and began to wave at Jelaqua—then froze.

She and Rosencrantz glanced at each other, then began whispering furiously and pointing. The Selphid nodded to herself.

Yeah. How the hell do you talk to me? She didn’t know how. Erin would come over, and they’d probably cry or brawl, but this was…hard. She wasn’t part of this inn anymore. She was a visitor, a friend, she hoped, but now she was a Pallassian.

After a while, the two servers sent someone over to her. Asgra. The Cave Goblin peered up at Jelaqua as she shoved a glass of water and menu onto the table.

“Hey, Jelaqua.”

“Hi, Asgra. How are you doing?”

“Um. Good? You is gone for a long time.”

The Cave Goblin glanced at Peggy, who made motions at her. Jelaqua pretended not to see as she forced a smile.

“Sorry about that. And missing the Goblin King thing…how’s the inn?”

Anyone die? She wondered who’d tell her. Asgra clenched at her apron.

“Is, uh, is good. You weren’t there, right. You didn’t visit afterwards?”

“No. Sorry.”

The Cave Goblin stared up at her, and Jelaqua avoided her gaze. Asgra’s eyes darted to Peggy.

“So you, uh, not visit since before the pala—the, uh, Goblin King? And not since? Not once?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay. Right…I just go over here for a second. You order food! On the house!”

Asgra ran off, and Jelaqua saw all three staff members begin pointing furiously, stare at her, and go running away. She sat there for another minute, gazing at the menu, then pushed herself up.

“Hells, I can’t do this.”

She moved away from the table and headed for the door. She could see how hard this was for them. Someone had died, and they knew she was in mourning.

She shouldn’t have come back.

The old days would never come back. Jelaqua walked past a young man who dodged around her with an open-mouth, but she was too upset to say hello, if she knew him. The dead haunted her memories.

Ulinde, Moore, Kevin…someday, she’d be strong enough to return.

Not today.

 

——

 

Jelaqua left flowers at Liscor’s northern gates. There was a small place for them, an altar the Watch had not cleared away. There were, in fact, other flowers there.

That hurt in a good way. She left them—then looked around Liscor, but she couldn’t stay. The Selphid went back to Pallass, and this time, without anything to do, she went to Tails and Scales to drink.

 

——

 

…It was closed, obviously. The bar opened in the evenings. So Jelaqua wandered the city, looking for a place to drink. The trick wasn’t in the open bar itself; there were plenty. It was in finding one not filled with either [Soldiers] carousing before being shipped off to the New Lands campaigns, or mourning the dead of 2nd Army—or both.

Jelaqua had gone to the first funerals with Maughin. By now, she avoided the processions of people wearing white. She knew they were still grieving, but she couldn’t give them her honest emotions. She wasn’t unsympathetic or gleeful; never. But nor could she mourn them.

She knew what they’d gone into the High Passes to do. Whenever she saw a child walking along, Jelaqua had a vision of Goblin children and had to look away.

It was a war. She had been a [Mercenary] Captain. There was never one she’d felt proud of fighting. So, whenever she entered a bar with people wearing white armbands, she just walked back out.

As for the [Soldiers] leaving for the New Lands—Jelaqua hoped that Pallass’ armies could take care of the grunts. She really did. By now, everyone knew about the magic and food issues, so she hoped that at least this wave would be better prepared.

I’m retired. I can’t put my finger on any of this. I’ll just have a damn drink, go back, give Maughin the night of his life, and…continue.

It was so damn hard. And she’d done it oh so many times.

 

——

 

Jelaqua finally found another bar on the 6th Floor, near the Engineer’s Guild. It was named Discombobulated Theorem, and they served her drink in a mug with a gear on it. In fact, they had a complicated mechanism where you pulled on a lever and the drinks sloshed down a funnel into the right mug that was ejected from a dispenser.

In practice, it made all the drinks taste sort of the same because they used the same slide. Jelaqua didn’t care. It was midmorning, and she was…well, not alone in the bar.

A bunch of [Engineers] were actually sitting around. [Mechanics], [Architects], [Builders]—Jelaqua was surprised by how many of them were having a drink for lunch.

“Hey, lads. I thought you had to be sober to work in the guild.”

She tried to jest with a few of them, and the first [Engineers] raised their heads looking like they were spoiling for a fight. But something about Jelaqua was good at defusing the situation. As if you could sense she was jocular—or that she could put your head through a wall with one hand. After a moment, one of the [Engineers] jerked a head.

“What’s there to work on? Pull up a chair if you want, Miss. Why are you here in the middle of the day?”

“Retired adventurer. What’s your excuse?”

The Gnoll had grease on his fur and the yellow suit of a Pallassian [Engineer], which always got stained with oil. It was a mark of pride, but he growled as he leaned over his cup.

“There’s not enough projects to work on.”

Jelaqua laughed softly.

“Crocodile dick. This is the City of Inventions! I know for a fact that my husband—he’s a [Smith]—can’t get your Guild to do anything.”

The other [Engineers] at the table were two Drakes, a Garuda, and a Human. Not Troydel; they were a bit older. Veteran engineers? All the odder. All of them glowered.

“What he means is there’s no projects, Miss. No budget for it. And if there’s nothing approved, there’s no work. At least, nothing that isn’t shit. Everyone’s either being told to build forts in the New Lands or work on some hush-hush project that only the top-levels work on…or we’re sitting around with barely more than maintenance work!”

That did shock Jelaqua. She eyed the talkative speaker, a Drake.

“How’s that? You’re one of Pallass’ two main forces. Between you and the alchemists, I heard you lot never stopped. Why’s no one approving more projects?”

“We can’t get funding. The Assembly of Crafts gives us work as well as common citizens. But right now, no one wants anything, so we’re saving money. No offense to your husband, but if it’s a project that might require city funding or cost more than we know, it’s not going to get approved. The Guild is in damage-control mode. All because of those bastards at Wistram.”

Everyone in the bar nodded, and Jelaqua felt a light spell activate in her head.

“Oh. Oh. Their new magic?”

All of the [Engineers] glared. The Gnoll raised a paw.

“Their fucking new magic, Miss. Did you see it? Did you see—? Those traitors in the Mage’s Guild are saying it’s better than our work! Because it is!”

He threw up his paws, and half the day-drinkers tossed things at him, but the Gnoll growled around.

“I saw their lifting spells! I jumped up and down on that pillow like I was riding a horse, and it didn’t budge! Some idiot in the crowd asked me if I could build a lifting elevator in their house like that. Soundless? Without any extra space needed? I laughed at him until he turned around and bought a levitating pillow!”

Jelaqua winced. Pallass was famous for its elevators and its gear-based inventions, though!

“Okay, but that’s one thing. There’s plenty for you to make, right?”

Dead silence. One of the Drakes leaned over.

“It’s like Wistram is trying to kill us. We were working on a new concept from the Kid—this moving floor.”

“Shh, don’t tell her that!”

“Shut it, what does it matter? It’s cancelled! Wistram came out with a moving floor spell like they knew we were working on it! Winches and pulleys? How about a dead gods damned anti-gravity rune? Just slap it on a crate of ore and throw it up a floor!”

Oh. Jelaqua remembered seeing those runes. The [Engineers] were practically shaking. With nerves as much as anger.

“The Assembly told Chief Bellein they were thinking of cutting our budget to invest in that.”

“They can’t do that! You’re Pallass’ pride!”

The [Bartender] himself seemed shocked and joined the conversation, but one of the [Engineers] waved a bleary claw at him.

“If the results show that we can’t beat magic, you can’t argue with them. And we can’t. Hells, if that magic lasts ten years, you might as well replace every elevator in Pallass with one of them.”

One of Jelaqua’s drinking partners raised a mug to throw, then lapsed into silence. The Selphid cast around, and it was so damn gloomy in here she felt like she was in apt company. Silently, she slapped a few coins on the table.

“Get me a round for the table, bartender. There’s got to be something, lads. Surely there’s something you can make that magic can’t?”

They regarded each other. One shook her head.

“Even the Kid has no ideas. It’s like all of his ideas are the ones Wistram has—I never thought I’d want him to roll on over to Bellein with a new design, but I’m begging for it. Hells, even that Eye of Pallass was turning all the charms up on him.”

The Gnoll grunted as he drained his mug.

“Hells, I’ll sleep with him if it gets us work!”

Everyone laughed at that and pelted him with mugs. One of the others shouted.

“You want us all to get killed on a zipline? I nominate Oilene!”

“I nominate your sister, Markk!”

“I nominate Markk’s mother!”

That, at least, was funny. Jelaqua grinned until she peered out the window and realized the sun was setting.

“Oh shit, I have to go make dinner!”

Somewhat unsteadily, she got up and ran back to her home. Jelaqua threw together a decent meal, and when Maughin trooped in, she was smiling.

He was gloomy.

“Jelaqua, I just heard the Engineering Guild is in a crisis! Chief Bellein told me I might as well pay Wistram for the forge I need—but I can’t muster that kind of money! The Mage’s Guildmaster himself said it’d cost tens of thousands of gold pieces!”

“I heard about that. Oh, Maughin—c’mere, you. Surely you could build it yourself? I could help with—”

He was shaking his head.

“It’s not just gold, Jelaqua. The amount of heat it’ll take—I don’t know where to begin, Jelaqua. It’s more than just making a bunch of steel. The Adamantium will melt steel like butter in a crucible! How could you…? Well, I have some ideas there, but not for a forge! How was your day?”

Jelaqua hesitated as she tried not to let him smell her breath.

“Oh—you know—I was hanging out with friends.”

“You made some?”

He smiled in relief. She changed the subject fast and got him seated while he complained.

“If only someone would allocate funding back to the [Engineers]! I don’t understand. Maybe magic is more efficient, but Pallass is the City of Inventions, not the City of Incantations! And even they can’t keep up! I hear they’re buying Wistram magic and trying to reverse-engineer it!”

Talking out his woes over dinner took the rest of the evening. Jelaqua swore she’d try to help Maughin…somehow.

“I know! What if I tried to talk to someone important, Maughin? There’s got to be someone who knows a [Senator] or two. I’ll do that; you just work on your end.”

She gave him a huge smile, and he perked up a bit.

And then they had sex.

 

——

 

Jelaqua felt like she was going a tiny bit crazy the next morning. Just a bit. She felt like one of those poor pets they sold in stores. The edible rats. Well, they were all edible. What were they called?

Hamsters. One of them spinning in a wooden wheel. Looking forwards to parts of her day, but going in a circle.

Maybe I should have a kid. Just do a bit of splitting…only, Maughin wouldn’t be part of that. And getting another Selphid to split themselves—no. Maybe they could adopt a kid?

Selphids were one of the few species that there were no fertility spells for. A Dullahan and Centaur would have a baby with far more ease than a Selphid could ever really bear a child with another species’ help. Jelaqua put that out of her head as soon as she had the idea.

She wasn’t ready for that. Managing companies of, well, older children had taught her that it was a stressful life that didn’t solve things. She had to figure this out for herself, and one way that actually did help was trying to resolve Maughin’s issue.

Jelaqua was no well-connected genius. She didn’t have the ear of a [Senator], and Maughin knew a few representatives of the Smithing Guild, but he was already using them. In lieu of ideas, Jelaqua did the only thing she could: she wrote letters to the women she’d met in the brunch and asked them for help, then sent them out via Street Runner.

It was an awkward thing to ask, and Jelaqua was fully prepared for rejection, but the Gold-rank Captain had done far harder things, like begging for gold from clients—this was easy.

Okay, having Linteca trot up with one of the rejection letters wasn’t fun. The Dullahan handed Jelaqua with a knowing gaze.

“Arranging a lunch date, Miss Ivirith?”

Jelaqua snapped back at her.

“No, I’m trying to help Maughin, Linteca! To build his new Adamantium Forge!”

The [Street Runner] wilted slightly in the face of Jelaqua’s actual annoyance. Embarrassed, the Gold-ranker toned down her glare. She shouldn’t do that to civilians. They weren’t her level. She was turning into a real monster in her retirement, like the others.

I can’t do this. I can’t just be one of that lot, who gets married, settles down, and then two years later they’re divorced and back to adventuring. I won’t.

Linteca hesitated—then nodded silently, almost in apology, and trotted off. Jelaqua gloomily sorted through the polite rejection letters, which she knew for a fact you could just get the Runner’s Guild to write for you. Even for Street Runners, it cost gold to send that many letters out!

I should just go bother a [Senator] in person. Though people are still shouting at them about Edellein…how can I help Maughin? Who would know how to convince the Assembly of Crafts or build what he needs?

She had no idea, except maybe a few [Smiths] she’d known, but they weren’t as good as they needed to be. There was only one place that might serve…

The inn.

Before Jelaqua confronted that idea, she was saved—Linteca came running back, breathless.

“Jelaqua, I have something for you. It’s not a rejection letter—I know the stationery. Here!”

She shoved a letter into Jelaqua’s hands. Surprised, the Drake blinked down at the bright blue card and opened it.

 

Dear Jelaqua, I would love to have a brunch to chat! Would you be interested in coming to my mansion? 

—Melika Blackwing

 

Melika? Jelaqua remembered the Garuda, then brightened up. She began to scribble a reply, then turned to Linteca.

“Wait, where does Melika live?”

 

——

 

Melika and Werdin’s mansion was one of the biggest in Pallass. The open skylight, the actual greenery—Jelaqua stared up at it, open-mouthed, and then when someone came to the gates and led her in, she stared at the tree planted in the courtyard until Melika shouted down.

“Jelaqua! I was just setting up brunch! Come on up!”

She was fluttering down from the 2nd floor. Jelaqua strode up the carpeted staircase, staring at the servants and the richness of this place.

“Er, I’m not interrupting, am I, Melika?”

The Garuda was all smiles, and she had more food—fruits snacks from Oteslia and some nuts you could chew on while they sat on a huge veranda staring down across Pallass.

It was richer even than the last place they’d been, and Jelaqua shifted awkwardly, but she’d been in clients’ households before. Melika laughed gaily.

“Not at all! I don’t have that much weighing on my time. I just have the charity fundraiser later tonight—I contribute to a few of them, you know, since I have no job. Aside from that, I mostly just keep up the house and attend social gatherings like the one we were at! But it does get tiring after a time, doesn’t it? Everyone’s gossiping about the New Lands and so stressed…that was the seventeenth one this month!”

The [Socialite] stretched her neck. Jelaqua opened her mouth.

“We’re barely eight days into the month.”

“I know! That’s life in the upper echelons of Pallass, Miss Ivirith. You don’t have to participate, of course. Some of our most famous members refuse to touch high society. But there are benefits. How have you found married life?”

They were talking before Jelaqua knew it. She had a Human body on today and shrugged self-consciously.

“Eh, it’s not hard. That’s sort of the problem. Keeping Maughin and myself fed, managing a household, that’s the kind of stuff I could do blindfolded as a Gold-rank Captain. Then it’s just filling time between making meals. Which, what can you do? I was jumping Maughin’s bones while we were on honeymoon, but now he’s working.”

She realized she might be slightly indecorous and crude, but Melika was rolling with Jelaqua’s more straightforward style in the best example of her class. She laughed, then sighed ruefully.

“I’m afraid that you wouldn’t get much sympathy from our peers. But then, they’re managing a far larger home, Jelaqua. Between finances, a garden, a child—”

“Oh, right. You get one of those and it’s never enough time. Do you have one?”

Melika paused.

“A stepdaughter from Werdin’s last marriage. Salkis. She’s a lovely girl, but in her young adult years, you know? Rebellious, seldom checks in. I worry about her, but I can’t do much. She and Werdin fight like Drake and Gnoll whenever they’re together. I try to play peacemaker, but I think she doesn’t like me much.”

She wore a sad smile, and Jelaqua shook her head. Former marriage? She shouldn’t have asked.

“Ah, well, I appreciate you taking the time to discuss Maughin’s problem. I suspect you’ll tell me it’ll take time and maybe it’s too hard to get the Assembly of Crafts to change their mind, but I have to do something for Maughin. He’s passionate about that, and if he doesn’t actually do something with his mistress, I think he’ll explode.”

The Selphid saw Melika’s eyes widen and realized her mistake.

“Sorry, sorry! I meant that hunk of Adamantium, not an actual mistress…”

The Garuda coughed on her tea and then began laughing as she caught her breath. Jelaqua grinned, orange-cheeked, as Melika shook her head.

“Adventurer Jelaqua, you are a breath of fresh air. May I confess that I’m so impressed by you?”

“Me? I doubt you’ve heard of the Halfseekers.”

Jelaqua waved it off, but Melika insisted.

“No, I have! Of course I have! Your team was so famous across Izril, north and south! You were adventuring twenty years ago when I was a chick…we don’t have that many in Pallass, you know, and none at all in high society, really. I tried to talk to Captain Bevussa, but I rather fear she didn’t like me, and it’s not easy being in Pallass as a Garuda…”

Oh, she knew Bevussa was actually the Captain of the Wings of Pallass? Well, she might as a Garuda. Jelaqua shrugged.

“Isn’t Saliss of Lights around?”

“Yes…but who can talk to him? You’re the friendliest Gold-ranker Captain I’ve met, Miss Jelaqua.”

Well, compared to Halrac, Todi, Ceria…Jelaqua might well actually be that since Ylawes would never have come to Pallass. She scratched at the back of her head.

“I’m just a former Gold-ranker, Melika, if I can call you that. I’m trying to be a good [Wife] for Maughin, you know? I’m too low-level, but…”

She saw Melika stiffen a bit and stopped grinning self-deprecatingly.

“What?”

“You—have the class? [Wife]?”

The Garuda seemed suddenly worried, and Jelaqua shrugged, embarrassed.

“I’m only Level 11. [Loving Wife]. You know—”

“Oh. Oh my word.”

Melika’s eyes widened, and she fluttered her wings at the table, shedding a few feathers. She stared at Jelaqua.

“Really? You have [Loving Wife]? Not [Trophy Wife] or—and it’s just that? Not…colored?”

Ah. The Selphid put down her cup and stretched as she gazed over her shoulders.

“Nope. Just [Loving Wife] from [Lover]. It’s actually a pretty bad class—I got the big class consolidation after really jumping Maughin, so now we keep doing it like Corusdeer in hopes I’ll level up. Good excuse for the both of us, anyways.”

She winked at Melika. There was a joke amongst adventurers that jumping into bed together helped you level. In practice, it was probably that adventurers got together after moments of extreme stress and danger, so that was when you tended to hear a levelup, but Melika was just gazing at Jelaqua, thoughtful. Her next words cut Jelaqua like a blade.

“You actually love him, don’t you? Master Maughin? When I heard about the engagement, I did think it was odd given what I know of Dullahan culture.”

The Selphid paused and eyed the Garuda. She was resplendent, her feathers groomed, in one of those toga-style dresses, wearing jewelry, the height of beauty, sophistication, and society.

Jelaqua Ivirith took her measure in an instant now that she had a read on Melika.

“I wouldn’t marry someone I didn’t love. Is it that uncommon in high society? With you and Werdin?”

Melika avoided Jelaqua’s gaze, fiddling with a fork and spearing a strawberry on her plate.

“You can learn it. Skills help, if you’re so inclined.”

“Sounds miserable.”

“Well, not everyone can be a fighter!”

The Garuda sounded too-defensive, and Jelaqua bet she’d heard that before. The Selphid lifted hands in apology.

“I didn’t mean to imply…it’s just a choice.”

“Thank you, Captain. I just didn’t have the talents in other classes to be an artisan, warrior, or—anything else. This has afforded me a life many would envy. It is a choice. If I could have, I might have been an adventurer, but it’s an impossibility for me. I can barely lift an ornamental sword, let alone a real one!”

Melika looked greatly defensive, and this would be a fine moment to apologize—if the Selphid did that. Instead, Jelaqua just stared across Pallass where she could see some Garuda and Oldblood Drakes flying. Pallass had, as a Walled City, lots of Oldbloods. She murmured.

“Not everyone can be a [Fighter], it’s true. But anyone can be a [Mercenary]. Besides, ornamental swords are usually heavier than real ones. If you wanted to start up the life, you could do it tomorrow. Might be harder in Izril since they’re rarer, but I believe you could do it.”

She met Melika’s eyes, and the Garuda laughed.

“I’d be dead in a weekend, Miss Ivirith.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not. It’s the kind of thing anyone can do if they’re desperate enough. I’ve known [Mercenaries] who started older than I am. In their sixties, that is. Old women who couldn’t swing daggers straight who learn the life. You can be a leader or use a wand—if you’re fighting to get to the next day, anyone can do it. Don’t sell yourself short. And don’t let me imply I’m downtalking marrying into a cushy life. I’d have done it when I was a kid, to get out of my no-name village, in a heartbeat. It’s not easy doing that either.”

Jelaqua hoped she wasn’t offending the Garuda, and the ruffled feathers on Melika began to lower slightly, a good sign. Melika pecked at a few seeds in a big spoon, then cleared her throat.

“Thank you for that vote of confidence, Jelaqua. I—I suppose I’m a bit sensitive about the subject. This is from Baleros?”

Jelaqua nodded easily.

“Oh, yeah, home. But it’s like that everywhere. I’ve been on Chandrar all of two years—too hot for me. I hated rotting in the sun, but making a living like that, the rough work, is possible from Chandrar to lovely Terandria.”

Everyone needed [Mercenaries], even the nicest kingdoms. Melika appeared patently envious and leaned forwards.

“You’ve been to Chandrar? May I ask what it’s like? I’ve always wanted to visit, you know—home.”

The way she said it was with that longing Jelaqua was familiar with. The Selphid glanced at Melika.

“You’re Pallass-born?”

“Ever since I was a chick, yes. I’ve always meant to go, but, well, Werdin isn’t interested, and he’s far too busy, and I can’t just up and leave at any moment. Plenty of my friends have gone, and they say visiting the Shield City of Qualvekkaras or flying with a Garuda tribe is eye-opening. Sometimes…discouraging, but I wanted to know if I’d feel the call. I don’t know my home, you see. I wonder if something would awaken in me if I were to fly under Chandrar’s skies.”

There was that longing in Melika’s eyes, like a caged bird, that Jelaqua didn’t like. Because it seemed to the Selphid that was how the Garuda viewed herself. The Selphid coughed into a fist.

“This may be out of turn, Melika. But if you’re thinking of Chandrar as some miraculous land where you’ll find yourself—in my experience, you don’t, usually. Home is where you are. Something you make. Not something people tell you or a place you have to be. Take it from me, a Halfseeker. Home is where my team is. Home is Pallass. I miss Baleros at times, but just because I’d like to kick around the cities there. Not because it’s where I should be.”

She gave the Garuda woman an embarrassed smile, berating herself for sounding so preachy, like she was back with the Halfseekers again. Melika sat with her beaked mouth open and then stared at Jelaqua again.

“Oh my. That sounds so—I feel a bit better for hearing that. I am in the presence of the Halfseekers’ Captain, aren’t I? For a second there, I felt like I was a child hearing your team! Was that the speech you used to give when you toured Drake cities?”

Jelaqua turned so orange her skin lit up.

“What? Damn it, you remember that?”

“Captain, I told you, I remember the Halfseekers! When you were a Silver-rank team with your original teammates, going around and adventuring on behalf of the few—I saw you in Pallass when your team visited! I was twelve, and my mother had no idea why I wanted to see a Silver-rank team so bad.”

Jelaqua stared up at the ceiling. Dead gods, when was that? Twenty years ago? Moore wouldn’t have joined, then, and not Seborn…

She’d been an adventurer so long. Melika was going on, blushing herself under her feathers.

“It meant something to have a team like yours. You had Scorchlings and that half-Elf with you—”

“Jumpin’ Jiorf.”

“Yes! And you’d go to cities and take on quests on behalf of those who needed it.”

Jelaqua nodded, lost in memories. And it paid like shit. No matter what Ylawes claimed. Or maybe Drakes were stingier than Humans. 

But it had been good. Melika went on, lowering her voice.

“When I heard about Garen, I…I’m so sorry. I always thought it was the most extraordinary thing, Captain Jelaqua. Your team was practically Named-rank. Except for having a Goblin, I think it should have been.”

“Maybe. But that was then.”

More regrets. Jelaqua blinked the visions from her eyes, and Melika went on.

“That’s part of why I work with my charity, you see. We give money to those in need and even to children with health-conditions due to—you should visit! You’d be such an inspiration to them!”

Jelaqua started and began to protest.

“Aw, no. I’m nothing inspiring.”

“Please, Miss Jelaqua? It would mean so much for a Gold-rank adventurer to visit them…”

The pleading gleam in the Garuda’s eyes, and also the knowledge that she’d been a fan of the Halfseekers, meant Jelaqua couldn’t refuse. Well, now she had more stuff to do.

And it was honestly good to have a friend in Melika, a real one. The Garuda promised to talk to a few [Senators], though she admitted it was hard.

“Everyone is fully on board the Wistram magic craze. When they realize we’re just giving money to Wistram and none is coming into the city, it will reverse. It’s a silly trend, and those are hard to shake without something exciting that looks good, Captain Jelaqua. But please let me invite you to more brunches? I would greatly love to be a friend with my heroine.”

She gave Jelaqua a shy smile. In response, the Selphid offered her a two-fingered salute and a real grin.

“Now you’re making me feel old, Melika. I’d be delighted.”

And she meant it. Jelaqua’s heart rose as the odds of Maughin’s forge decreased, but she truly did love having a friend.

Inspiring. It was good to know that’s what the Halfseekers had been. It had been such a funny idea from a down-on-her-luck Selphid that no one wanted to party with. A depressed Jelaqua who’d looked around and realized someone needed to smile at people who didn’t fit in.

“Argh. Thirty years. We did it, lads and lasses.”

She stretched outside of Melika’s mansion and raised a thumb as the Garuda waved her off. Jelaqua turned her head, and her teammates stood behind her, a vision so much more ephemeral than Erin’s statues. But more permanent than even the [Garden of Sanctuary]. Written onto her soul.

The Selphid whistled as she walked into Pallass.

 

——-

 

A [Guardsman] arrested Jelaqua six minutes later. She was in line for the one place she knew she could go, had to go: The Wandering Inn.

It was easier these days. You just gave your passport, and there were four doors operating on the 8th Floor checkpoint. Get past the security—and it was easy on the way out, harder on the way in—and then you just waited for the door to open in the nice lobby.

The Watch was there to keep order, of course, and an officer would walk down the line inspecting people casually. But today, a female Drake halted. She checked something and then gestured.

“Miss? Please step out of line.”

“Who, me?”

Jelaqua blinked, but she complied, and the officer asked her name, checked her passport, which was four times as long as anyone else’s—Jelaqua had to register every dead body she had—and then nodded.

“We’re detaining you temporarily, Miss. Please stand here.”

“What? But what did I do?”

“Miss, please step over there.”

Everyone was staring at her. Jelaqua complied as the Drake spoke into a speaking stone and then eyed Jelaqua as if she’d done something wrong. The Selphid soon realized the [Guards] had no idea why she was being apprehended—but she didn’t have long to wait.

“Right here, Agent.”

Someone came striding down the street towards her, and Jelaqua turned as a Drake in civilian clothes, looking like an [Engineer] of all things, flashed a badge.

“I’ll take it from here, [Guardswoman]. Thank you. This way, Miss Ivirith—”

She would have steered Jelaqua off just with that, but the Drake coughed into one fist, nervous.

“Agent, your papers? New protocols.”

The Drake, who was slightly familiar now that Jelaqua was squinting, pulled a face. Visibly annoyed, she fished out a handful of papers, and the [Guard] had to fuss over them for a good six minutes while speaking into a stone before they could go.

“Damn Fissival idiots.”

That had to be because of the Zevara incident. Another thing Jelaqua had to catch up on at the inn—she needed to buy that Drake a drink! The Eye of Pallass pulled Jelaqua away and then nodded.

“We’re bound for the 10th floor. Follow me, Miss Ivirith.”

“What? Why?”

“Pallass’ business. I’ll explain on the way.”

The Drake strode eighteen steps before she realized Jelaqua wasn’t following. She turned and glared, annoyed. The Selphid was standing in the street, arms folded.

She recognized this agent now. Even wearing the guise of an [Engineer], she didn’t quite fit in.

Maybe it was intentional. She just appeared a bit too sharp, too professional for the outfit she wore. She had light green scales, but Jelaqua bet they could change at a moment’s notice, and short-cropped neck spines. She walked like someone eternally on business, a step faster than anyone else—and this was in a Walled City—and spoke like she outranked everything and everyone, they just didn’t know it yet.

Zemize. She strode back to Jelaqua.

“Captain Jelaqua, on the authority of Pallass—”

“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Jelaqua was no pushover civilian. She was a Gold-rank Captain, and Zemize began to snap, then eyed the Selphid’s annoyed composure. She hesitated, sighed loudly, then jerked her head.

“I have a Pegasus waiting to go, Adventurer Jelaqua, and we’re thirty minutes behind schedule! I was searching for you, and we have multiple damn carriages from Wistram who’ll be way ahead of us—carriages from Wistram.”

She said it like that was a particularly stupid thing, and Jelaqua just raised her brows.

“I’m not flying anywhere. If you have an adventuring problem…”

Zemize drew closer and lowered her voice, ominous.

“Nothing of the sort. This is a safe mission, though one you’ll be sworn to silence on. And that you’re uniquely qualified for on multiple levels. It’s your own fault, Captain.”

She gave Jelaqua a semi-sympathetic, unsympathetic eye as the Selphid frowned at her. What could she have done…? Zemize jerked her head.

“Come on. You had to know being friends with Troydel had consequences.”

“Wait, what?”

 

——

 

Troydel’s best friend was sitting in a carriage attached to a team of Pegasi ten minutes later. She stared at her best friend in Pallass. He stared back.

“Hey, Jelaqua. Thanks for coming.”

“I didn’t have a choice! They just grabbed—why am I your best friend? What about Joseph, Imani, or—”

Jelaqua furiously gestured at Zemize as the agent slid into the carriage and spoke out the window.

“We’re secure. Seatbelts fastened. Take us up!”

The carriage lurched, and Troydel turned green instantly. Jelaqua felt her own sense of vertigo, but the Selphid just suppressed her body’s biological urges. Zemize took over as Troydel clung to his seat.

“We have a forty-minute flight to the rendezvous point. You were Troydel’s first pick within the city, Miss Jelaqua. We have standing orders not to attempt the inn, and their confidentiality is beyond suspect.”

“Standing orders from whom?”

“The Grand Strategist. Troydel asked for someone to go with him to the meeting. Congratulations.”

Jelaqua turned back to Troydel, who was trying not to look out the window.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck—”

“Where am I going?”

The Selphid shouted so loud one of the Pegasi stared over its shoulder, and the [Driver] called for them to be quiet. Zemize hissed as they fell silent.

“Captain, you are to be discreet, and you are sworn to silence on Pallass’ authority! You will provide moral backup to Troydel, who will gain intelligence for us and act according to the outline I gave him. Troydel, have you memorized the list of prompts? Where’s the packet I gave you?”

“I—I, uh, I think I left it behind!”

He felt around his seat, and Zemize’s eyes bulged.

“You what—”

Jelaqua was glancing from the young Earther to Zemize, who seemed stressed, irate, and fed-up all at once. The Selphid harrumphed.

“There’s no way you two slept together. Let alone you hitting that target three times.”

The Eye of Pallass’ glare could have stripped paint off wood. Troydel turned beet red, and Jelaqua turned her ire on Zemize.

“Where are we going? And if you get cute, I’ll rock this carriage so hard it goes upside-down. I might survive a drop. You won’t.”

That threat made even Zemize get refreshingly honest. She spoke quickly.

“You’re aware, of course, of the Earthers, Captain Jelaqua.”

Erin had never had a full conversation with the Selphid, but she’d kept her ears open. She grunted. Zemize gestured at Troydel.

“Troydel is the only Earther under Pallass’ nominal authority. He is heading to a very secret meeting with—”

She sighed

“Wistram’s magical carriages carrying several other Earthers. Those who have been located by other Walled Cities. Principally Fissival. A…well, just a meeting between them. Any information gleaned from them about their world, technology, or whereabouts of other Earthers is of vital importance. Wistram as well, though it’s out of date.”

Oh. That made sense. Jelaqua blinked at Troydel, who was rubbing at a grease spot on his hands with nerves.

“I can’t do this. I’m stressed, Zemize! Why couldn’t you get Imani or Joseph? Everyone’s going to ask about him or the inn, and I can’t explain shit!”

“I tried to get Coach Joseph, but my superiors vetoed it. He’s not Pallassian.”

Zemize snapped back. Jelaqua just sighed. She put her feet up on the seat.

“So you lot finally figured out the Earther thing, huh? Now you’re all running around? I bet every nation and company, from the Four Great Companies to the smallest kingdom, is doing the same.”

The Agent of Pallass didn’t reply. She just pulled out a file and began to coach Troydel on what to say. But the airsick Earther and Jelaqua weren’t having it. The Selphid put a hand on Zemize’s arm.

“While I’ve got you—why is the Engineering Guild underfunded right now? It better not be because everyone’s buying Wistram magic.”

Troydel and Zemize turned and, interestingly, both developed a sour expression. Zemize grunted.

“That’s a move from the Assembly I don’t agree with. Troydel has been putting out new design plans with solid merits—”

Troydel puffed his chest out, and Zemize added.

“—with copious help and teaching—but Wistram appears to have the same ideas he does. And their magical abilities with Archmage Eldavin are unsurpassed. Accordingly, demand for the Engineer’s Guild has plummeted. It is a problem I think is inadequately addressed. Well, that and they are suffering from a shortage of high-level classes.”

Jelaqua nodded to Troydel.

“Ah, so he’s the ‘Kid’. I thought so. What’s the secret project every high-level [Engineer] is working on?”

The Drake’s glower intensified.

“There are too many loose lips in the Guild—! Argh. If you’re being upgraded to this clearance level, you might as well know the rest. I’ll need to re-issue you a passport later with markings on it. Don’t let me forget. The Engineer’s Guild is working on a joint project with several Walled Cities to reproduce Earth-technology. The most…important piece of it.”

Jelaqua glanced at Troydel, and he spoke helpfully.

“She means guns. I don’t really know how they work, but they had me drawing up designs, and all the [Alchemists] except Saliss are on it; except there’s no sulfur on the markets and stuff.”

Jelaqua whistled. She had no idea what a ‘gun’ was, but she could guess. Zemize’s glower intensified.

“We’re behind some competitors. We don’t know who or how long, but we will catch up. In the meantime…it leaves the Engineer’s Guild sadly short on high-level leadership and jobs. We cannot make this an open project.”

“You’d think with Felkhr, everyone would be commissioning his flying wings or something.”

Jelaqua still remembered the Gnoll soaring through the skies. Troydel glared down at his feet, and Zemize pursed her lips as if to spit out the window. The Earther muttered.

“Yeah, I thought that too. Then Archmage Asshat had to start selling Boots of Flying. Mind you, all of it’s ‘premium’. He’s having monarchs bid against the richest people for everything. But, he says, as soon as he secures ‘more manufacturing resources’, it’ll be in the hands of everyone.”

There was a long moment of silence. Then Jelaqua developed the same expression most [Engineers] of Pallass were wearing.

Sometimes, magic took all the magic out of the world.

 

——

 

The Meeting of Earthers had Troydel unhappy. Exactly why, Jelaqua was unclear until he whispered to her. They’d set up a not-at-all conspicuous tent in ‘neutral ground’, and she could see all the guards.

Not literally, but there were too many [Invisibility] spells so the air kept rippling as they walked towards the tent. Jelaqua rolled her eyes.

“Lots of amateurs here. I wonder which city it is? I can see someone’s tail moving there, there’s a parting in the grass there—a shadow there—I bet you could smell half this lot. And then even if they’re all clever and super-invisible, you just know they’re there because of their aura-stuff.”

She threw out an arm casually and clipped someone in the air before they recoiled. Troydel stared at Jelaqua.

“Whoa, you can sense auras? Do you have one?”

She snorted.

“Clams have auras. Can I use mine? Nope. But I picked that trick up back, oh, a decade ago. I never get to use it against invisible enemies. They just never show up when you’re able to counter them.”

“Hah. Good one. Show up.”

“Hm? Oh, ha-ha.”

Troydel was tensing, and Jelaqua nudged him.

“What’s the big deal? You should be happy to see more people from home! I’d have thought you’d be all over them, shooting your shot.”

Zemize shuddered at the mental image. Troydel whispered to Jelaqua.

“Maybe a year ago! But now it’s not—fun. You know? After Erin got killed? It’s not fun pretending to be all that. And what do I tell them? I’m not Joseph. Or Imani! She lost an eye, and she was back to work the next week! I’m just an [Engineer]. Not Kevin, let alone Erin or Ryoka or—”

His mouth shut fast, and he stared at Jelaqua. She missed the gaze and patted him on the shoulder softly.

“Listen, Troydel. You know what you shouldn’t do?”

“Compare myself to others?”

Jelaqua saw the tent beginning to uncamouflage itself as they got closer, a ripple of magical fabric big enough to hold a hundred people easily. She frowned.

“What? No. You should definitely do that so you understand where you are in the world. Below the others? Sure, I won’t argue. But listen.”

She took his shoulder as he glared at her, but her grip was so strong he winced. Jelaqua met Troydel’s gaze.

“You saw Erin die. You know what happened at the Winter Solstice. Even if you weren’t there. You survived this long—and you’re going to hide away and not make the most of seeing people who made it here? You are the kids who made it here.”

She stabbed a finger at the ground.

“No matter how much of it was luck or chance. The lucky living have no right to waste what they’ve got. Now get in there!”

She slapped his back so hard it cracked, and Troydel made a faint sound. But then he glanced at Jelaqua and nodded. Back a bit straighter, he walked into the tent.

“Nice work.”

Zemize murmured to Jelaqua. She was about to vanish when the Selphid grabbed her neck spines.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re going to figure out how many of those kids there are and if they’re being treated well. Not quietly; you’re going to march up to their handlers and ask.”

“Let go of—I am an Agent of Pallass, and each city is operating their own programs—no one is going to just reveal—”

“Are they happy, are they fed, did they bury friends? If the Walled Cities won’t share that, then they’re failing their kids. Get in there.”

Jelaqua practically tossed Zemize through the cloth tentflap. Then she dusted her hands off and turned.

“Anyone else want a pep talk?”

Dead silence from the rippling air and hidden agents. After a moment, a tent pole coughed.

“No thank you, Captain. Can I get an autograph?”

The Selphid signed one, then stomped into the tent.

Kids these days.

 

——

 

Inside, Jelaqua saw she had more work to do. Six Walled Cities had rolled up. There were twenty Earthers in the tent.

Twenty. Pallass really was the smallest contingent! Fissival had the most at seven, but every other Walled City had at least two! And yet the idiots inside the tent had all the spy-abilities of the Walled Cities’ best, and all the charisma of Moass.

Because each group of Earthers was standing in their ‘spot’ with items from each Walled City—produce from Oteslia, and a few animals like Shockwoolies and [Druids], weapons from Manus with trainers, etcetera—like some kind of show-and-tell combined with a meet-and-greet.

But it was really like a dance, because each group of Earthers wasn’t talking to the others. A few were waving or making off-handed, too-loud comments, but they were sticking with their handlers because it was inherently awkward.

Too many in the rooms. Too many staring Drakes or Gnolls speaking into stones, monitoring everything, writing it all down. Too hard to cross the invisible barrier of pressure to be people.

Troydel had frozen in his corner with Pallass’ display of alchemical items and miniature dioramas. Jelaqua walked over and called out, loud.

“Hey, Troydel! Introduce me to your friends!”

“Who—?”

She grabbed him by the shoulder and went for it. Jelaqua was a former [Mercenary Captain]. You had to, had to introduce yourself to potential clients and enemies. If you didn’t, well, each person you ignored might decide it was easier to stab you in the back compared to someone you’d had a drink with and who knew your name.

She moved with Troydel across that social barrier like it wasn’t there because it was not. She headed straight for the first Walled City where two rather thin, dark-skinned kids were standing with a lot of Zeresian agents.

“Halt! Earthers only—”

The first Zeresian agent who tried to stop her put an arm in front of Jelaqua, then a hand on her shoulder. Then he skidded across the carpet. Two more tried that—the two boys goggled at Jelaqua as she came over.

One pointed at her face and the glowing orange lines of her body and recoiled.

“¡Su cara! ¿Qué onda? ¿Está mal o qué?”

Jelaqua had no idea what they’d just said. But she smiled and waved, as if they were Drathians at a port.

“Hello! I’m Jelaqua! This is Troydel. Nice to meet you!”

The Zeresian agents were about to drag Jelaqua off, or try, when Zemize blocked them. Good for her. Three more Agents of Pallass appeared, and they scuffled in the background as everyone turned to watch the meeting. Troydel whispered in her ear urgently.

“Jelaqua, that was another language! I think it was Spanish—I don’t speak Spanish!”

“What, not a word? Give it a shot!”

“I’m from Poland! Uh—uh—hello! Hola. Español?”

The two boys grew excited instantly.

“¡Sí, hablamos español! ¿Pero…dónde rayos estamos?”

“¿Tienes un celu que funcione? ¿Son aliens o qué? Espera… creo que ni habla español.”

“Yes, hello! I don’t speak English well.”

They had a strong accent Jelaqua had never heard before. Troydel mimed himself. He spoke with exaggerated slowness, gesticulating.

“I—Troydel. This—Jelaqua. My name is Troydel. Good to meet you. Muchos gracias!”

The two boys glanced at each other, and Jelaqua sighed. She stepped on Troydel’s foot.

“They’re not idiots, Troydel. Hey, hello! Jelaqua Ivirith. Adventurer.”

She stuck out a hand, and one of them blinked, then cautiously took it. He exclaimed at her grip, then smiled gingerly.

“Luis and Inti. Hello! We are…from Peru!”

“Peru!”

Troydel exclaimed, and then the ice broke faster. He pointed at his face.

“I’m from Poland!”

Inti exclaimed.

“Poland! Do you have a phone? “¿Dónde carajo queda Polonia?”

They were having trouble until a Zeresian [Mage] huffily brought something over.

“We communicate by written [Translation] spell. If you write down a question, I can cast the spell…”

Oh, that’s how they did it? Jelaqua gestured at Troydel.

“We’re from Pallass. City of Inventions! Come on over, lads, and we’ll show you what’s here. Where did you two come from? I mean, how’d you end up with Zeres?”

She pointed. There was a delay as one of the two boys—they couldn’t have been more than fourteen and fifteen respectively—grabbed a quill and wrote. Then the answer was translated. Troydel exclaimed.

“You were at sea?”

That didn’t surprise Jelaqua. They seemed too thin and sunburnt; she doubted Zeres was treating them that badly. One nodded, solemn.

“Sixteen days.”

“Holy shit, dude! How long have you been here? Hold on, how long…”

Luis read the question and then nodded. He turned to Inti and then counted.

“Twenty-three? How long are you?”

Troydel blinked. He turned to Jelaqua as if she knew and ruffled at his hair.

“It must have been…two years, now. I’ve lost count.”

The Zeresian [Mage] stared at him, and Zemize turned with a hiss, but Jelaqua just glared at her patiently. The two boys began whispering in awe. In the common tongue this time.

“Spirited Generation! Spirited…”

They knew something, but Troydel wore a blank expression as they grew excited, then, Jelaqua thought, afraid. She smiled at them.

“I’m a Selphid. Here, let me write down…a Selphid. I live in dead bodies. See?”

One of them nearly leapt a foot in the air when she showed part of her real body and waved it at them out of a fingernail with a hole in it. They stared at her in horror—but then one began exclaiming.

“¡Es un alien de verdad! Pero es más bacán que estos lamecerdos. ¿Dijo que era qué? ¿Una aventurera?”

They seemed to like her, especially when Jelaqua showed them her muscles and mimed throwing Troydel. The young man from Poland was engrossed in a translated series of questions when someone else came over.

“Hey, did I hear you guys are from Peru? We’ve got a Spanish-speaker here! Marco, c’mon!”

A gaggle of four Earthers approached from Oteslia’s camp. They also had fruits and vegetables, which the two boys instantly perked up on seeing. Jelaqua grinned at a nervous young man—they were all young, but he was twenty-five, maybe?

“Well, you speak common. Jelaqua Ivirith, former Gold-ranked adventurer. I’m just here as Troydel’s friend since no one else could make it. And you are?”

He blinked at her, but smiled faintly.

“Ertan, from Turkey. Ah, um, [Entrepreneur].”

“What kind of class is that?”

He gave her an embarrassed shrug as three more came over, one boy, two girls.

“It’s my class. From Earth. I got it when I came over. We all were at the ruins of Troy—they’re all tourists. This is Marco, Cidney, Anh… ”

Each one from a different nation, apparently, but they all had a far stronger command of the common tongue. Troydel introduced himself hesitantly.

“How long have you been here?”

“Only two months. We were working in Oteslia when they found us! Did you say two years? Are you part of the Spirited Generation? Does anyone have a working phone? And the list?”

Cidney was from Austria, Anh from Vietnam, Marco from Portugal—when Troydel heard that, he got very excited.

“I know someone from Spain! Joseph!”

“Joseph!”

Everyone but the two young Peruvians knew that name. The word drew over more Earthers, and one bounded over.

“You know Joseph? Is he coming?”

“We were saving up to visit him! I sent him a [Message], but the Mage’s Guild says he got too many—”

“Are we all going to live together now? I hope so! I can’t stand where we are! We can’t walk around without an armed escort, and they’re all getting ready to fight giant ants all the time!”

It was a babble of voices, and then everyone was shaking hands, asking where the others were from, and trying to date when they arrived. Jelaqua smiled as she introduced the concept of ‘Selphids’. The only group that knew her species, in fact, was the Fissival one.

“We knew a Mage Sa’la at the academy! This is so cool—Troydel, you’re one of the oldest Earthers we’ve met! Only Elena was here when you were! But of course, we’re not all from the same time. What year do you remember being on Earth?”

One of the Earthers with more familiarity about this world was named Andrea. There was Saif, Eun, Jacques…they had an exasperated familiarity with their Fissival agents they were trying to get away from.

Troydel frowned at her.

“I’m from 2018. I knew someone from 2016.”

“2016! It’s been…five years since then!”

“Five years?”

“¿Qué está diciendo? ¿2016? Pero si estamos en 2025…”

The Earthers were comparing dates, which alarmed them as much as Jelaqua when she realized what was going on. She held up her hands.

“Hold on, hold on. You’re saying only two years passed for Troydel, but as many as six years passed for you all?”

“Yes! Six years!”

“That can’t be right.”

“Nine.”

That came from Inti, softly, and provoked a sudden silence in the room. The Earthers glanced at each other as the excitement drained from every face. Then Eun, a South Korean [Student], turned to Troydel.

“Are you the only one from Pallass? Did you lose anyone else?”

Troydel gazed at Eun for a long moment and swallowed.

“Not me. I mean, sort of. Yes. I know some others who died.”

Eun nodded, somber. In the resulting silence, someone began to cry. Jelaqua pushed agents and Earthers aside and found a young Earther from Salazsar’s section.

“Hey. Hey, kid. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, alright?”

Her contingent had seen losses. The way they reacted to Troydel’s words, and the expressions on the other Earthers’ faces, told the Selphid a story. Those who’d seen fellow Earthers die—and the dawning horror on those who had been spared that so far.

The girl that Jelaqua was holding was nearly as pale-skinned as the Selphid and had blonde hair and pale eyes. From somewhere cold, Jelaqua guessed. She stared up at the Selphid and flinched as she felt Jelaqua’s cold hands, but the Selphid was murmuring to her.

“Hey, kid. It’ll be okay. Just breathe. What’s your name? Troydel, introduce yourself. We’re from Pallass.”

Someone spoke as Troydel came over to squat and hold out a hand. Jacques, who hailed from Ireland, flushed as he raised his voice.

“God damn. God damn it. This isn’t funny. This isn’t fair. Why is no one from home doing anything about this? All the scientists and all the news—and now we’re here, being held hostage by these bastards!”

The professional billiards player pointed at the agents of Fissival, and a rumble ran through the Earthers. The two Peruvian kids glanced at each other in alarm as the [Mage] refused to translate that—but Marco did. Jelaqua saw one of Manus’ agents lift a claw to his earhole, then call out.

“Break! We’re calling a break—Manus’ agents, disengage!”

Then Drakes and Gnolls were there, and the Earthers were protesting.

“Wait, you can’t—”

“Let go! I want to talk to—”

It descended into chaos, and Jelaqua turned to Zemize. The Pallassian agent hovered there, but didn’t grab Troydel as he tried to hold the hand of the Earther in Salazsar’s care and spoke, urgent.

“Hey, just send a [Message] to Troydel, Joseph, or The Wandering Inn if they let you, okay? There’s more of us and—”

The Salazsarian Gemskeepers were trying to separate them, but Zemize held out a claw. She didn’t grab Troydel. She looked like she knew Jelaqua would hit her if she did.

 

——

 

The flight back to Pallass was silent until they landed in Pallass. Troydel kept staring back at the place they had been camped, and all of his nerves had turned into a longing to go back.

“That was fucked, Zemize.”

He managed that after a while. Zemize opened her mouth, and Jelaqua spoke over her, staring out a window.

“What did you expect? They know they’re captives, and you put them in a room like pigs you were trying to fatten up. They’re all going to be unhappy. You’d better arrange more meetings.”

“We will. We want them to be happy, but each Walled City is territorial—”

Jelaqua turned her head.

“They’re children. What is Zeres going to do to their two boys? Make them build weapons of war?”

“They’ll be treated well.”

“They’d better.”

The entire affair left a sour taste in Jelaqua’s mouth, and her tastebuds were all but nonexistent in this body. But if there was one positive effect, it was on Troydel.

“I’m gonna write them all letters. I can do that, right? Joseph and Imani and the others will want to too!”

Zemize held up a claw.

“Troydel, you cannot tell the others about this. If you try, I will stop you and restrict your access to the inn.”

He wore the most stubborn expression Jelaqua had seen so far. He stopped, gritted his teeth, then the [Engineer] swung around.

“Well, I can write them and meet up, right? I’m going to do that! And those other Walled Cities have no fucking clue how to charge up a smartphone, except Fissival! If they want to find out, they’d better—better let us meet up! I’m going to the inn.”

“You can’t—”

Troydel shouted at Zemize.

“To get recipes from their countries from Imani! And her snacks! And a bicycle and soccer ball—I can do that, right?”

He stormed off so fast that Zemize had to run to catch up, calling for backup. Jelaqua unfolded herself from the Pegasus’ carriage. She remarked to the air as she watched Troydel running.

“Hey, he looks older already.”

She was mildly proud of him. Jelaqua hoped his determination stuck.

 

——

 

There was nothing she could do about the Earthers in other Walled Cities. One Selphid couldn’t do much other than get herself in trouble, but Jelaqua still walked around Pallass for a while, thinking about everything.

Making weapons of war. Each city probably trying to find more Earthers, build their technology. But what the heck does that mean? You can’t copy something like a flying carpet overnight. They say they’re building these…‘guns’. I didn’t see 2nd Army with them. I bet it’s the work of years, not months.

A lot of chasing big projects that might pay off, but like Felkhr’s flying, would only appear in the long term. In the short? Jelaqua sort of thought the Walled Cities were paddling through a poo swamp with Wailer Frogs underneath their boat. Compared to Wistram, they were moving at a snail’s pace.

No wonder they were so upset. In their race, in their hurry, they were letting things fall behind they, ironically, shouldn’t. Like the Engineer’s Guild. What Pallass needed, what Maughin needed, and Jelaqua herself, was a spark of change.

Not the slow-moving rock of the shifting tectonic plate of industry and civilization, but the burning spark of innovation, the crackle of change that arced into the future at a speed that caught the eye and swept everything up with it.

You could not predict nor call upon that power easily. But you could cultivate a place where it appeared. For that…there was always that building which had defined so much of this period of her life.

The inn.

 

——

 

This time, Liska paid more attention to Jelaqua.

“Oh shit. It’s you. Hey…you! Not going back to Pallass yet, right? I, uh—hold on—where’s my speaking stone—here’s the door to the inn. Right here, see? Door.”

She got up and actually ran to slap the door to the inn for some reason. Liska began panicking the moment Jelaqua appeared, and the Selphid sighed.

“No, I’m not heading back right away. Sorry if I missed Lyonette or someone.”

“Someone, yes, right. Uh, how can I help you?”

“Actually, I’d like to go to Esthelm.”

She wanted to speak to Pelt on Maughin’s behalf. However, it seemed like the inn wanted her. Liska’s eyes slid to the door.

“Why don’t you, uh, uh, go to the inn? We’ve got a special on all Selphid guests.”

“Oh, really? Do I eat free?”

Jelaqua was tired and played into the game. Liska nodded a few times.

“Yep! Go ahead!”

She gestured, and Jelaqua stepped out of line—and so did a pale-skinned Gnoll, who brushed at his fur.

“A Selphid eats free special? Parent’s tits, what a strange city! I like it. Hello, Sister.”

A Selphid traveller grinned at Jelaqua, and she laughed at Liska’s face.

“Brother! Where are you from?”

“Oh, Baleros, but I came to see the New Lands. Scout it out for home—”

They headed into the common room, chatting, and Jelaqua winked at him as Asgra ran up.

“Hey, my friend is here for the Selphid eats-free-special? I might have to leave you, Brother. But if you’re in Pallass, let’s have a drink!”

The happy Selphid accepted a menu as Asgra stared at him, then Jelaqua, then ran to tell on Liska. Ishkr slapped his face at the bar, but then came over with a smile to welcome the Selphid.

And Jelaqua saw them looking at her, and this time, perceived the difference in their expressions.

“I…think there’s either something really good, or really bad you have to tell me.”

She commented to Peggy as the Hobgoblin came over to take her order. Peggy hesitated, then nodded.

“Yah. You want something real sweet first? Not spicy. Is really bad when you get snotty and touch eyes.”

Jelaqua laughed.

“I just ate, actually, and I’m all sick from the air. Can I get something to settle my stomach? Just a juice or…”

She took one mouthful of blue fruit juice when Peggy came back.

“You, uh, want to go inside the [Garden], Miss Jelaqua? Real quick. Okay, not quick. Also, here.”

She handed Jelaqua an entire roll of toilet paper. Jelaqua stared at it.

“For your eyes.”

Well, that wasn’t ominous at all. The Selphid sighed as she walked into the [Garden of Sanctuary]. Oh…her eyes travelled up to that mist-covered hill as the door closed behind her. No one was in the garden. Well, Apista, flitting from the yellow…flowers? Jelaqua stared at them. Then she came up the hill and bent down.

“These aren’t Faerie Flowers. What happened?”

They were just ordinary yellow flowers. She felt shivery when she saw that. And she knew something terrible had happened. Something vast. The Goblin King had pushed a hole through the wall of the inn, but even she had trouble believing it.

Then she heard the door open and sensed something appearing behind her. It closed—then opened again. Two people? A voice murmured.

“Oh shit, here we go again. Uh—the flowers got destroyed, Jelaqua. It’s…a lot happened. It’s really good to see you.”

That voice. Jelaqua blinked as she stared down at the flowers. Then the Selphid closed her eyes and sensed the two behind her.

Someone middle-sized behind her, lean enough, and someone very tall, taller than Maughin, even, standing just beside him. 

No. No…it was close, but not quite the same dimensions she knew. But even so, she felt her actual body writhing as she froze and then stood up. She turned slowly.

Then she saw Kevin’s face and the torso of someone impossibly tall, a billowing cloak of green and brown surrounding him. Jelaqua stared into Kevin’s eyes and his pained, happy smile. Only for a moment.

Then she gazed up, and her face crumpled up.

“Moore?”

He stood like a statue himself, and she realized he had a huge beard, far grander than the one she knew. He was taller and older and…stronger. It rolled off him, a casual aura of power.

Moore. Not Moore.

Lord Moore’s face was filled with frozen pain. As of someone seeing a dead woman. A ghost. Kevin glanced between the two and realized that if this was Jelaqua’s first moment seeing her friend…

Lord Moore of the future had lost Jelaqua Ivirith years ago, fighting the Mother of Graves. He leaned on his staff as if it were the only thing keeping him up. A half-Giant whose voice croaked as he tried to explain, tried to say—

“Jelaqua. A strange miracle allows us…you and I in one spot is—I would have found you, but I feared—”

Words failed him. He raised a hand, then lowered it, afraid to touch her or make the first move. Kevin was apprehensive too.

Those who witnessed the dead returning to life often wept. But they could also—rage in denial or lash out in hurt, regrets. He stood back as the Selphid gazed up at Moore, and the strangest thing happened.

Unlike Pelt or Hedault, Imani or Troydel, or anyone else that Kevin had met since his return, from Zevara to Fierre…the Selphid woman did not seem surprised when she saw the two of them standing next to the rain pouring in from the ceiling of the domed [Garden of Sanctuary].

The Selphid stood, a seemingly young woman with orange eyes, her dead body swaying in the breeze, like an undead. But what undead could smile like that? For one moment, she was shocked—and then the most graceful smile touched her lips. Understanding and calm.

It was so surprising that Kevin’s and Moore’s own trepidation and grief turned to shock, and they gazed at her.

Jelaqua nodded once.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Her peaceful days, the oddities, everything. She murmured as she reached out, and Lord Moore recoiled—then let her touch his chest. She put a hand on it gently, then reached up to tug his beard with a faint smile.

“You look so old, Moore. So much more distinguished. Where’s Ulinde?”

“I—I—she wasn’t with me.”

That was all he managed. A voice so filled with pain that she closed her eyes. Then nodded. She gave Kevin a smile so radiant his knees turned weak, and he thought Maughin was the luckiest guy ever.

“Kevin, you rascal. You look just right. I wished I could have said goodbye. I’m sorry I missed your funeral.”

“That’s okay. I know you and Moore and Seborn and Ulinde were…you guys were real heroes.”

He croaked. Jelaqua nodded. Then she spoke softly as the inn’s staff and family peeked into the garden, as Apista buzzed down and then away before she cried. But the Selphid’s words hit them all, like her class. [Steelforged Tempest]. Everyone could catch what she threw.

“Ah. This is so much kinder than what Erin described. Or no, she said it was like this, didn’t she?”

Moore and Kevin blinked at her, unprepared for this strange statement. Then Kevin understood; Lord Moore could not. He had never had this conversation in his world. Kevin stepped back.

“Jelaqua, you think—”

The Selphid gently beamed up at Moore as she stood on tip-toes and reached as high as she could to cup his face in her hands. She nodded to Kevin.

“I never got up, did I? This is such a fine dream. So much better than I could want or deserve. But this…?”

She gently tapped Moore’s cheek, and he flinched, then realized what she believed. His eyes widened, and Jelaqua stepped back. At peace with herself. She turned to Kevin and shook her head.

“I don’t need it. This is enough, Kevin. I was staying away from here on purpose. But I’m happy, I am. Tell that Goddess of Death, or whomever she is, I’m ready now.”

There was no point reaching for a flail. No weapon she could wield. Now that she knew she stood in the lands of the dead, in this dream, perhaps the final dream before she passed on, the Selphid breathed in and out and gazed at Moore, and her heart shook so much she almost believed it was still beating.

She waited

—and waited

…and waited to wake up.

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

Here we are again, friends. It’s shorter chapters week, and the Halfseekers have arrived! We did begin with Erin, but that’s because it felt like it made sense to begin with her. I like the ability to write a ‘short’ chapter and just throw it in without taking an entire week’s time.

I’ve liked writing these chapters. It is hard, and I’m not saying that just because I’m playing Silksong (it’s very fun and I’m in Act 2 right now), but because each chapter is 16-20,000 words and I was writing them daily.

But it feels faster and focused when I’m at my best. More episodic, and I like the changeup. It will be slower now that I actually edit chapters between releases, but I hope you enjoy this week of chapters—I’ll release them every other day, probably!

Each Halfseeker will get their chapter, and we’ll go from each one, but there’s other shenanigans afoot as you can tell. Hope you enjoy and are having a good one! I’ve had weird stress nightmares for like 4 days now, but I’m oddly very upbeat. Strange…I’ll tell you in two days if that continues!

(Most of my nightmares involve being in High School or college and being overloaded with classwork but also being pirateaba and deciding to drop out so I can write more and having to talk my parents into it. This last one I was on a school trip and left my bags on the bus then I went to a cult-sea hotel where I was trying to act cool while I figured out what the hell was going on with the brainwashing. It was very sci-fi and had kelp beer. If it wasn’t for the clear evil shenanigans I’d have stayed there, 6/10.)

(Translation Credit: Gridcube and Anthony! If you’re from Peru, please submit even better translations–with more swearing!)

 

 

Bird Barrista and Inn Gang Plushies by Bookmark!

 

Halfseekers’s Last Stand and Jelaqua Maughin Movie Night by Lanrae!

 

Jelaqua and Maughin by Lei Tencie!

 

Jelaqua and Date Night by Stargazing Selphid!

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/megawint/

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/megawint

 

Tarot Cards: The Magician and The Hanged Man by wagacliff!

 

Druids and Waxed Floor by MichaelCannon!

 

Dance Macabre by Spooky!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/spookyspookyowl

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/spookyowl.bsky.social

Linktree: https://linktr.ee/spookyowlart

 

Bloodfields Dryad by onionlittle!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/littleonion

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/littleonion.art/

Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/onionlittle.bsky.social

 

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