Interlude – Halfseekers (Pt. 7)

(I am taking my monthly break! I’ll be back on the 4th!)

 

 

Jelaqua had missed Melika’s charity fundraiser.

For children. Not just any children. The banner the two Garuda were taking down said:

Charity Fundraiser — Pallass’ Most Needy Require Your Support!

And it had a cute little Drake being held in two furry arms—the Drake girl had a scar on her face in the illustration.

At this point, Jelaqua thought about turning and just running away. Maybe it would be easier to say she’d gotten the wrong day entirely; it looked like they were packing up.

A Gold-rank Adventurer cannot run. A Gold-rank Adventurer cannot run…

She squared her shoulders as she marched towards the empty auditorium that Melika had rented. A bunch of workers were inside, taking down decorations and tables. One of the staff looked up and, when she heard Jelaqua’s name, glowered.

“Lady Melika has already retired, Adventurer Ivirith! She was quite disappointed when you didn’t show up. I believe she might be walking the children back to their homes.”

“Oh, so it was for children with families?”

“Some are cared for, but require medical assistance or other help. Others are at the orphanages. Plural.”

Jelaqua was trying to turn invisible. All her good mood from earlier—she’d been eating pizza when Melika had been putting on a concert from the sounds of it!

“S-so I missed music and festivities?”

“Plenty of Pallass’ wealthiest were donors as well as common citizens, yes. There was even music. Charitable giving.”

The Drake looked pointedly at the donation box that Jelaqua shovelled gold coins into. The Selphid drooped.

“I don’t suppose I could apologize to Melika in person, could I?”

“Perhaps. You might also cheer the children up. They were excited to meet a Gold-rank adventurer.”

The Selphid was looking for another Hag Queen to fight. She muttered to the floor.

“Gee, I really made their day. Right after I kicked a cat off the 9th Floor too.”

Everyone in earshot turned to stare at her. The Selphid raised her hands hurriedly.

“That was a joke. Dark humor. I’m going, I am so sorry—which way is she?”

She received curt directions to the places that Melika was most likely to be and took off. Pallass had orphanages, apparently, and on her very fast run the way there, Jelaqua was rehearsing an apology.

She’d brought backup, of course. The Selphid hadn’t managed to drag Kevin with her, but he and Rinli had gifted her with a new prototype kid-sized bicycle with training wheels and two regular ones just to get out of having to come with her. And she’d run back to the inn and snatched up a bunch of pizzas in the vain hope that’d count for something.

All of that to say that when Jelaqua arrived at the first orphanage and stared at the rather colorful walls and the children and young adults gathered around the familiar, beautiful Garuda, she did stop for a good minute to see if the Wyverns were attacking again. She’d really have liked that.

 

——

 

Melika Blackwing seemed upset. Like a woman personally let down by her heroine, perhaps. Her colorful plumage was drooping along with her head, and she was nodding down at the crowd of children also bereft of heroism, hope, and trust in Gold-rank adventurers in general and Selphids specifically.

…Or, no, maybe Jelaqua was reading into it. Certainly, as she drew near the orphanage, her apprehensions were missed on several levels. Firstly, the orphanage appeared…nice.

Even now, Jelaqua had an image of Baleros in her soul, and back home, well, Selphid children didn’t really get abandoned except in times of extreme duress—they’d just die given how unique their biology was. And Centaurs tended to value their children such that any colt or filly left abandoned would find a home in no time.

Lizardfolk and Dullahans, though, did have more prolific individuals—Lizardfolk especially. Leaving children on doorsteps or in public spaces, or just in baskets you put into a river—that stayed with Jelaqua. She was picturing a run-down building with overworked [Caretakers] trying to manage a horde of children in ragged clothing.

…This orphanage had colors. It was like a bunch of fractal, geometric shapes, a huge red triangle, a blue square, all stuck over a plain white stucco building with two floors and a generous courtyard. Jelaqua saw several of the windows were open, airing laundry from lines, and the entire place seemed well-kept; in fact, a dozen members of staff—Drakes wearing neck-spine bonnets and a uniform—were all gathered outside.

Pallass had the money to at least make its public services decent, and the fact that the children gathered around Melika seemed to be energetic and wearing serviceable, if perhaps second-hand clothing, was a very good sign. No malnutrition. No signs of bruises or broken bones—at least ones left untreated; she saw one Gnoll boy had an arm in a sling—no more injuries than you’d get in a crowd of rambunctious kids at any rate. High marks from Jelaqua.

No, it was the older kids, who went from their late teens into fully young adult twenties, that seemed far worse-for-wear. There were, Jelaqua realized, two groups around the upset Garuda. Children from the orphanage and an older contingent.

The older ones were giving Melika grief as Jelaqua drew forwards cautiously.

“—gold in our claws or what?”

“It doesn’t work like that, Anamariss. You know that. It was a wonderful turnout—”

A Drake girl of around eighteen or so was poking Melika in the chest; the Garuda wore a bright toga, and the Drake girl…at first, Jelaqua thought she was wearing an all-black tunic before she blinked.

No, the tunic was a different color; the ash coming off her scales was turning it practically black. Jelaqua felt a shivering in her body as she recognized the girl at once.

Sootling. Or Scorchling, the more common term for Oldbloods, but Jelaqua had heard the names used interchangeably. Both fit here. A Drake name for someone with the Oldblood abilities who couldn’t control their body’s natural functions. It took multiple forms, so ‘Sootling’ was a misnomer, but the most common version was just like what Jelaqua was seeing.

The girl, Anamariss, was afflicted by heat, probably a flame-based Oldblood breath that was so hot it was turning her scales to ash. Due to some bad luck, her skin and organs could handle her internal heat—or she’d have died before being born—but her scales hadn’t been given the same treatment. As Jelaqua drew closer, she saw telltale splotches of what seemed like gel on the girl’s body, especially around her armpits and joints.

Burns. So she wasn’t even able to withstand her own heat. She winced as she went to poke Melika again, but some of the other children were blocking her. She shoved at a pinkish Garuda girl a few years younger than her. An eighteen-year old Garuda—who had virtually no feathers on her body. She appeared almost alien without them.

Another condition of birth. Anamariss snapped.

“My name’s Anama. I don’t care how big the turnout is! You’re still not fixing the real problems! Everyone in our street can’t get water because the well’s got mold in it!”

“Still? I’ll talk to [Landlord] Inmal first thing tomorrow.”

“He’s not going to do anything. I don’t want a delivery of food and crap, just give me the gold and I’ll find my own place!”

Melika was trying to smile as a few murmurs of agreement rose from the other young adults. The children looked very upset as they stared at her, and Melika patted one Gnoll girl on the head.

“Anama, can’t we discuss this inside? I can’t give you the gold; that’s against our rules. And you know the Health and Safety Act—”

“Crelers take that stupid junk and you! You’re not helping us at all, you’re just paying for us to die in those stinking holes where no one has to look at us!”

The Drake girl shouted. At this, Melika’s visible skin around her beak paled, and her head drooped further. The Garuda girl without feathers shoved Anamariss back.

“If you don’t want help, get lost, Anama! Go get your gang to fix everything! Melika raised tons of gold for us!”

That drew the Scorchling girl’s wrath to the Garuda defending Melika. She shoved the other, hard.

“Go suck her husband off, Ophala. He’s never going to take you into his fancy mansion either way. Melika doesn’t have to worry about bad wells, does she? Or d’you think we’re doing good?”

Well, this was unpleasant. The two young women began to go at it as Melika shouted and tried to get them apart; Ophala was pecking and scratching at Anama, who actually got the worst of it as she swung and swore; her skin was very vulnerable without scales, and she was missing two fingers on her right hand. Jelaqua moved a few children back in the crowd as they stared at the fighting and her. Then Anama drew in a breath.

“No! No fire!”

Melika shrieked. She tried to close Anama’s mouth as the flames began to rise in the Drake’s gorge. Ophala flinched, and Jelaqua grabbed the Scorchling girl’s shoulder and tossed her.

It was a gentle toss, more like a lob without snapping the girl’s limbs around from the force. You had to practice it. The girl went flying back and actually landed on her feet before flames roared out of her mouth—her nostrils—the burst of flames blooming up around her, and Jelaqua winced.

That was no controlled Dragonbreath. It seemed more like Anama had released flames out of every orifice she had—even her earholes. The flames burst up around her, and she shouted in pain, then she was clawing at her burning clothing.

“Anama!”

Melika ran over, and two of the caretakers dashed forwards too.

“You’re burning up. Tonic of Chill—do we have any Flame Balm?”

“Right here.”

Now the girl was overheating. She gulped the tonic that Melika passed to her and yanked out a salve herself from her belt pouches, which had survived her self-immolation. Melika pulled out a towel too for modesty’s sake—when the girl had stopped smoking, the tonic reducing her internal temperature, she just coughed for a good half a minute. Then gasped.

“Who the hell—?”

That was when everyone turned, and Jelaqua Ivirith lifted a hand with a guilty smile. She nodded to Melika.

“Hey, I’m so sorry I was late. You know us Gold-rankers. Heh. Ha ha…always showing up at the last moment.”

She paused, flushing deeper orange, and bowed her head to Melika.

“Please let me make it up. I’ve got some food and something to share—”

Then she glanced at Anama, and her nerves and embarrassment turned to coolness. Jelaqua gave the girl a bright smile.

“—And if you flame off again, kid, I’ll hit you instead of tossing you. You nearly burnt all those kids and yourself up. Do it twice and no tonic will save your insides.”

She spoke with authority. It wasn’t hard to see how overheated the kid was, even with the tonic. She had no temperature regulation like Zevara or Keldrass; her body wouldn’t vent the heat fast enough. She’d cook her insides unless someone managed to chill her quickly enough. And without magic, the only way Jelaqua knew to do that was to slice her stomach or other vitals open and let the heat vent.

Anama was gasping as she fanned at her face.

“I know that. Who’re you?”

“This is Jelaqua Ivirith, the Gold-rank Captain of the Halfseekers I was telling you all about. Jelaqua, this is—these are the children and young people that our organization works with. Uplifting Wings, the charity, and this is Anama—”

“Hey there.”

Jelaqua stuck out a hand, then withdrew it as the Drake spat smoke and ash at it.

“Anama! Jelaqua, I’m very sorry; Anama is one of our young adults—we need to get our [Healer] to look at you. When’s the last time you let out Dragonbreath, Anama?”

“Fuck off. I don’t need help. I’m off.”

The Scorchling was staggering away from the crowd. Melika hurried after her.

“You’re hurt! I insist—”

“Let go—”

A swipe from Anama’s right hand. Melika flinched, and Jelaqua caught the arm. Very gently, and she put the Drake girl in a choke hold under one arm. Squeezed.

“Captain Ivirith, don’t—”

“I’ve got her, don’t worry. C’mon, kid, you’re hurt. Just say ‘no’ if you don’t want help. No?”

The flailing from under her made Jelaqua grin. She had a gentle arm over Anama’s windpipe, and it didn’t allow the girl to breathe flames, even if she wanted to. Jelaqua casually strongarmed the girl back towards the orphanage and nodded at Melika. The Garuda woman’s beak opened as the children and young people parted to make way for her. Jelaqua passed by Ophala, and the featherless Garuda girl’s beak was gaping in astonishment. She turned to some of the other people her age, mostly Drakes, though there were a few Gnolls and Dullahans mixed in.

“Whoa. Who is she?”

 

——

 

Melika Blackwing had an office in the orphanage. She was, in fact, its founder and chairwoman.

“I took over this particular site, and our charity knows all the orphanages in Pallass. Until the age of fifteen, all children in our facilities receive medical treatment, education in Pallass’ apprenticeships unless they need at-home tutoring, counselling, care, and everything else.”

“And after that? Why fifteen?”

Jelaqua Ivirith was gazing out a window at the children in the courtyard. They were taking turns riding the bicycles she’d gotten from Kevin, young and old. And eating the pizza.

Jelaqua and Melika were in the office talking. After Jelaqua had dumped the semi-asphyxiated Anama at the [Healer]’s, Melika had invited her up here. The Garuda was very flustered; Jelaqua less so. It would have been reversed except for the incident just now. Instead, Jelaqua suddenly saw Melika in a new light.

The Garuda woman was sorting through her files.

“I’m sorry, I need to look up the residence of Landlord Inmal. He should have cleared that well. Fifteen? It’s when children legally become young adults under Pallassian law. They’re taxed at that age. In practice, they’ll be with their family, but…”

“If they have no parents, you can’t keep them in the orphanage. Did I hear you give them support? That’s good.”

Melika nodded.

“We try to find them jobs, and we have apartments we can subsidize the rent on. We deliver food, medicine, and other supplies each week. But as you can tell, it’s never enough.”

“Hence the fundraisers. I’m real sorry about missing it. There’s no good excuse. I hope I didn’t ruin things by missing it?”

Jelaqua shoved her hands into her pockets, and Melika shook her head.

“I didn’t base it all around you, Captain Ivirith, I just wanted you to be there for the children. Thank you for the—pizza?—and the bicycles. They’re having so much fun down there.”

“You can keep ‘em, I think I can arrange that.”

“No, we couldn’t do that. They’d fight. Maybe the one for children, but all the young folk will argue over who gets the two bicycles. And they’re not necessarily safe to keep, especially if those are Solar Cycles originals. Dead gods, how did you get them?”

“I knew the previous owner and I’m friends with the store people.”

And that meant wherever they were, they might have the bicycles stolen. Jelaqua nodded to herself. This was all very familiar. She leaned over the desk as Melika found the paper she needed.

“Free water’s probably something you have to have in Pallass. The reason you don’t just call the Watch on this [Landlord]?”

“That would—complicate matters. He’s one of the few people who can or will rent to us. There’s a provision in Pallassian law that makes finding new places hard…”

“…and if you piss him off he’ll just evict the kids. Plus, from the sounds of it, more’n one is running with a gang. Are they flash, blade, or just low-score?”

“What? What do those words mean, Captain?”

The Garuda [Socialite] blinked at Jelaqua. She fumbled with the paper, jotting down a note. Then rang a bell at her desk.

“Journe? Can you make an appointment with Landlord Inmal? Thank you.”

She had a Garuda [Assistant] who took the note. Journe was dressed like a [Butler]. Jelaqua eyed his long uniform which covered his wing-arms, a very odd rarity for Garuda. Then she jerked a thumb at the Drake girl striding into the courtyard and grabbing one of the bicycles.

“Sorry, street terms. You pick them up. Flash means the gang’s all about showing off. Big heists, jewels, and lots of bragging. Some actual substance, but they’d probably steal skateboards or do things like paint a wall or attack a [Guard]. Thieving too, mostly. Blade’s the opposite. They’re the ones mugging and actually stabbing people. Low-score means they’re not really much of anything, just a bunch of low-levels not worth categorizing.”

The Garuda woman fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable.

“I—I don’t know. I don’t think Anama’s running with that dangerous a crowd. Though Ophala thinks she’s in a nest of crime. They don’t get along, and they’re both leaders in their own way. Ophala was here since she was two, and Anama came from another city at…I want to say eight? Both have been here since I took over.”

The Selphid nodded, glancing around the neat little office. Melika shifted, peering at her with more discomfort than yesterday.

“Excuse me, Captain Ivirith, let me thank you properly for the help. I’m sure if you’d care to go down and show the kids something—safely; one of your Skills, maybe?—it would make their day. I’d hate to tax you more than that. This is all I wanted.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do. You’re a far better woman than I thought, Melika.”

The Selphid smiled, and Melika blushed.

“What makes you say that? I’m hardly—”

“You’re hiring them, aren’t you? At least some. Journe must not have his wingfeathers, so he can’t fly.”

“How do you—?”

“Garuda would never cover up their wings like that unless that was the case. Poor kid, Ophala. It must make getting jobs real hard. How much time do you spend on this?”

“Well, if I’m not preparing for an event—a few days out of the week. It runs without me, I’m just finances and some managerial stuff. But it’s just not enough once they leave…please forgive Anama.”

Jelaqua shrugged, eying the girl as she tried to wheel the bicycle out of the courtyard. One of the staff deftly stopped her.

“She’s a little shit, but sure.”

“Captain Ivirith! She’s just troubled—”

“Nah. She knew what she was doing with that flame breath stunt. She’d have baked you and everyone around her. And she would have killed herself if she did it twice. She’s used her flames in the last few days; she’s too hot.”

Melika hesitated, half-risen from her desk. She peered at the girl, then turned to Jelaqua.

“I thought she was running too hot, but how can you…? Oh.”

Jelaqua nodded.

“I’ve partied with…seven Scorchlings over the duration of the Halfseekers. You probably remember Halassia Evergleam the best; she was our [Mage] along with Moore. Noticing the signs gets to be second nature. How many of the kids here are Scorchling or have another problem like Ophala?”

Now, Melika was hesitating. She clicked her beak a few times.

“…More than half. More than two-thirds, I’d guess. That is, usually, the commonality between children left with us. We do look for good families, but mostly, those that are adopted are, um—”

“Not Scorchlings. Drakes think it’s bad luck. Not many Garuda would take in that kid without feathers, either. Gnolls…white fur? But mostly the same. That kid’s blind.”

It was the same story from Baleros despite this being a far better place for them. Jelaqua sighed and leaned on the windowsill as Melika nodded.

“It’s far from ideal. And as you say, some children are in need of dire medical attention. A lot of the gold goes to buying supplies and treatments for them. I actually have hopes Wistram will have more medicines and enchantments in that area. They’re teasing alchemical formulas on par with their magic.”

“Hey now, that would be good. I reckon I can donate more gold too.”

“That’s so generous of you, Captain. But you don’t need to—”

Jelaqua didn’t have more gold in her bag of holding, so she just wrote a note she could stamp with a personal seal; Gold-rankers carried such things for big purchases. She hesitated, bit her lip, then added another zero.

“Here. This is the kind of place Halassia would have loved to see. She never grew up in Pallass; she could have used this.”

“Oh my, Jelaqua—! Thank you.”

The Selphid smiled and waved it away, and Melika rose to hug her.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. C’mon, you can introduce me to the children.”

And she meant what she’d said. She could never have started something like this. Seeing the [Socialite] going down to the courtyard and playing with the children with clear familiarity put her in a different light. It embarrassed Jelaqua, really. She’d thought of Melika as being just a well-intentioned noblewoman, but she had a good heart and the actions to back it.

Well, the Selphid did her best. It was easy to produce her Demas Metal flail and give it a few swings while everyone watched from a very safe distance, or to regale the kids with a few tales about fighting monsters.

The children were agog by her; that was simple, and Jelaqua let one of the Gnoll boys feel her face and giggle, but her attention was on the older crowd.

“Miss Ivirith, I’m very sorry you had to see that disgraceful display with Anama. I’m Ophala, a [Tailor] in training, and very pleased to meet you!”

The featherless Garuda girl came over to shake Jelaqua’s hand, and the Selphid peered at her. Ophala was fairly nimble on the ground; without feathers, she’d be lighter than even other Garuda, who were pound-for-pound the 3rd-lightest species in the world, behind Fraerlings and Selphids, and that really wasn’t a fair metric.

She wore clothing with fake feathers embroidered or stuck onto the clothing to hide the featherlessness, but her head still looked disconcertingly small and, if you wanted to be blunt, somewhat like a chicken’s plucked head. She blushed, but Jelaqua just grinned at her.

“Not a fan of that other kid? You’re quick on your feet.”

“I used to, um, work as a Street Runner! And this is Merry and Consillir—”

Oh, it was familiar. Jelaqua couldn’t remember how many times she’d seen a half-Gnoll in Izril. And she’d been here for decades—normally, you got half-Gnoll, half-Humans who ranged from furry-ish people to Gnolls with slightly different facial features. Half-Drake, half-Gnoll?

Fertility spell that didn’t work as intended. He had patchy scales on his arms, and the Gnoll kid had buds like neck spines on his neck and a more Drake-like bone structure and face. It was offputting just from the sense that you were used to Drake norms.

Consillir was a Dullahan kid who wore no armor, and his visible skin was roughened from exposure to the elements. Probably he couldn’t separate his limbs or neck; another ‘failing’ in the eyes of Dullahans and which made wearing armor non-stop as hard for him as it would be for [Knights]; he’d be in danger of getting gangrene or other bacterial infections from being inside the armor all the time.

Jelaqua grinned as she shook hands with the shy lot, chatting.

“Most’ve your friends are Drakes, right? Scorchlings?”

They all hesitated at the name, but Ophala nodded.

“That’s most of us, yes, Captain. See Ninssa there? She’s water-element. Which means—”

“Ah, damn. Dehydrates herself?”

She appeared rather desiccated, and Ophala blinked. The girl was blowing little bubbles of water for some of the children and getting scolded.

“That’s right! How d’you know that?”

“Halassia Evergleam was a former teammate of mine. She was a Scorchling too, and I used to run with a Drake called Bilth—he was also water-element. Between him and Seborn, we used to take so much drinking water we’d just load up a barrel for our provisions when we went on an adventure. Do you all get along or fight?”

“Mostly, we’re good, yes? Just not Anama and her gang.”

Merry growled. He flicked out a forked tongue, and Jelaqua nodded.

“That’s good. I’d hate to see what four Scorchlings could do if they started breathing.”

“Oh! You know about combined Dragonbreath? We blew up an apartment one time. That’s why we’re stuck with Coincutter Inmal.”

Consillir spoke up, and Ophala tried to shush him. She gave Jelaqua a too-wide smile.

“That was an accident. It never happens regularly…um, so do Gold-rankers meet a lot of famous people like the Players of Celum, Captain Ivirith?”

Jelaqua laughed softly and went for the bait. She showed them a few autographed cards from all the Players as they gasped over them and remembered how silly Wesle and Jasi had been back in the day. Then Jelaqua asked a few more questions.

“So, Miss Melika’s a good manager?”

Ophala’s face lit up as she gazed towards the Garuda giving one of the children a low-level flight across the ground.

“She’s the best! I want to work for her, but—I’ve got a good job. But she comes here all the time, and we can come by.”

Merry muttered.

“So long as we’re not Anama. Everyone likes Melika. She just can’t fix everything.”

Then he glanced at the other young people. They nudged each other until Ophala burst out.

“You’d better watch out, Captain Ivirith! Anama’s evil. She’s got a gang she runs with. The Flameblades. They might get revenge for you tossing her around.”

Jelaqua was shocked.

“Little old me? I barely touched her.”

“Well, she’s sleeping with their boss—”

Ophala kicked Merry, who seemed to be something of a loudmouth. Jelaqua snorted.

“Yeah, that’d do it. I’ve never heard of the ‘Flameblades’, but I’m new to Pallass. What’re they, flash, low-score? Or actual blades?”

Again, she saw that blank expression on most faces, but Ophala answered easily.

“No, they’re actual blades, but more low-score’n—uh, well, they’re not that big. They mostly just hold people up for coins in their bags of holding, but they might be a problem!”

She fidgeted, and Jelaqua smiled faintly. She winked at Ophala.

“Thanks for the warning, Miss Ophala. Hey, do any of you want to see what Demas Metal does? Give me a bit of water and I’ll show you a trick, though no one’s touching the flail—it’ll cut your fingers off. I keep losing ‘em when I forget, and unlike me, none of you are sewing them back on…okay, except for you, Stitch-kid. You can hold it. What’s your name?”

 

——

 

Jelaqua spent two more hours with the kids before it was getting dark, and Melika announced it was time to wash up for supper. She thanked Jelaqua again.

“This was wonderful, Captain Ivirith. Please don’t feel poorly about missing the event—spending this much time with the children is more than they wanted, and the young people were delighted to meet you.”

Jelaqua stowed the bikes in her bag of holding as she smiled, genuinely pleased.

“I’m glad. Would it be bad if I came by now and then? This really is…something important. I know I didn’t do anything other than impress you as a kid, but I feel proud of you. Sorry.”

She saw the Garuda blush.

“That means…a lot coming from one of my heroines, Captain Ivirith. It’s what I can do. And yes, any time! They’d love to see you.”

Jelaqua glanced at the young folk filing out of the courtyard and waving. Most seemed headed in the same direction. She guessed they probably had a few communities they’d go to. She saw a Drake stepping back into the street as her head turned and nodded.

“No problem.”

“Would you have time to have dinner? Werdin knows I’m out—I’d love to host you at my estate unless your husband is waiting for you? My [Chef] could prepare something.”

“Nah, nah…better to do this kind of thing on the streets. I could do a bar.”

Jelaqua murmured, and Melika blinked.

“What thing?”

“Hm? Oh, I’d love to! But why don’t we find a place nearby and catch a drink or two?”

“I…would love to. I don’t know any establishments around here, though.”

The orphanage was on the 4th Floor, which wasn’t exactly as prosperous as a place Melika would frequent. But Jelaqua just glanced around and pointed.

“There’s always a bar, Melika. C’mon, I’ll buy.”

 

——

 

Booze and adventuring ran together like adventuring and blood. Or adventuring and holes in your socks. Or adventuring and lice. Or…

“Jelaqua, that’s horrible! There has to be some fun in adventuring! Or why would anyone bother?”

Jelaqua had found a bar in record time. She had a nose for noise and a bit of fun. They were sitting together at a bar, sipping some bad drinks. Really bad, no flavor or anything Rufelt could do to them. Just two liquids mixed together with, if you were lucky, a third or a bit of fruit stuck on the glass.

It was amazing how bad someone without Skills could be, and if this Drake slinging drinks had the [Bartender] class, Jelaqua would eat the shitty plywood bar they were sitting at.

This was a hole in the ground, literally—a cellar renovated to be an eating and drinking place. Jelaqua had only found it because Melika had noticed a bunch of people with her class. The bouncer at the doors had given them a lot of trouble until Jelaqua pulled her retired Gold-rank card.

She’d been worried the burly Drake woman wanted a fight, but she’d left the two alone after that. All the clientele were drinking or partying together. Good atmosphere, shitty drinks.

Dead gods, even the Yellats slathered with ketchup were burnt. Melika didn’t seem to mind. Her eyes were shining, and she didn’t appear to be acting up her enjoyment of hearing Jelaqua’s stories. She was with her idol, and the [Socialite] made you feel like you were a [Hero] when she hung on your words.

Her one annoying trait was that she giggled a lot when drunk. Which Jelaqua assumed some people might like, but it kept getting in the way of her stories.

“Well, I can eat ‘em. Lice, that is. Don’t gag, I know some Garuda—okay, okay, bad for when we’re eating. Listen, sometimes it’s just fine and you’re dry and mostly clean even when fighting. But the real adventuring, the stuff that makes you a true adventurer, not some ponce who’ll only slay monsters, is going out there and sloshing through a bog and hunting a wounded monster for three days in the pouring rain. Then, afterwards, making sure to find the nest, clear it, and fight off three dozen zombies in the muck and haul their bodies back for burial.”

Even some of the other patrons were listening to her. Melika sipped at her drink, shaking her head.

“How is that worth it?”

“The adrenaline, of course! Even Selphids feel that. The feeling of life-or-death, then the euphoria when you win? Drugs don’t feel that way. When you’ve beaten down an Armored Crawler with your bare hands and you just fall flat on your back, close your eyes, and level up? That’s what kept me going. Well, that and having a team and doing good things, but that’s why I fought the monsters.”

The Selphid smiled as she clenched a fist. She sipped from her drink; she was on her second, Melika her fifth. The [Socialite] had a far better head for alcohol than Jelaqua; the Selphid suspected a Skill. Jelaqua could drink like a normal person despite being a Selphid because she could choose to metabolize the alcohol or not. But only her high levels as a [Warrior] gave her any constitution—a single beer could down some Selphids not used to alcohol purely because of their low body mass.

“Hey, barkeep! Give me another of these horrible drinks. What’s the one that looks like someone shat in my glass?”

Melika choked as the Drake moved down the bar, away from a conversation with a young Human woman with a hood pulled over her head. He sighed.

“That’s an Engineer Oil. The olive’s supposed to be a nut.”

“What’s the base?”

“Uh…Firebreath Whiskey? And a cloud of brown in it. And an olive.”

“Whose, the [Engineer]’s?”

A few of the patrons spat their drinks out, laughing, and the Drake rolled his eyes.

“No, a nut, you know, nuts and bolts? The stuff they use in the Engineer’s Guild. I can make a different drink.”

“No, I like it. Give me another, with bones.”

“We’ve got no ice. You okay without?”

Jelaqua nodded and slapped some coins down, then leaned over to Melika.

“This is a terrible bar. Sorry for taking you to it. I’ve got business after this.”

“No, this is a delight, Jelaqua. I just hope we’re okay? I’m sure we are in your presence. But that fellow at the door was glaring daggers at you!”

Melika smiled hesitantly, but she had that attitude of someone who was rich and unused to such situations keenly aware of their net value. Which made everyone else eye them like prey…Jelaqua snorted.

“No one’s going to mug you here. Wrong vibe. Relax. Also, it was a woman at the door.”

“What? I could have sworn it was a he—”

“Selphid. You don’t fool these eyes. ‘Sides…I feel like I know some of the people here. Hmm.”

The bartender came back with another horrible Engineer’s Oil in claw, and Jelaqua squinted at him.

“Hey, barkeep, have we met?”

“Don’t think so.”

He wavered for a moment before blandly turning away. Jelaqua squinted at him.

“Wait a second…yeah, we have! At the inn! You were at the beach party with that other Drake…uh, Onieva. Mirn, right?”

She had a great memory for faces and names. The Drake hesitated as voices died down, then swung around.

“Oh, right. I think I remember you. Captain Ivirith. From the inn. One of the heroes from the Winter Solstice. Good sorts.”

He seemed to say it too loudly. Jelaqua glanced around as people went back to murmuring. Ah…well, that was funny.

“Oops, must have walked into your place by accident. We’re just here for drinks. This is Melika, a friend of mine.”

She slung an arm around Melika, who giggled again, and Mirn raised his brows. He met her eyes, then snorted.

“Here? This is the worst bar in Pallass for drinks and food. You have terrible luck!”

“That’s right! Mirn, can’t you get better food? What about the basement at…?”

Half the guests chorused, and he glared and threw a dishrag.

“Not every day’s fancy free, idiots! Shut up. You get one fancy night a month unless we figure out a better system! Keep it down!”

Jelaqua glanced at Melika, but the [Socialite] was busy; she had something in her claws. Everyone leapt out of the way as the Magic Picture scroll activated—she took a picture of herself and Jelaqua, then showed the Selphid the image.

“I couldn’t resist. May I keep this, Captain?”

“Nice angle.”

“It’s this new fad! Wistram is selling something that takes Magic Pictures. They call it a ‘camera’, and they said this is a ‘self image’, a ‘selfie’.”

Jelaqua snorted.

“What will they think of next? Seriously, is that something that’s going to catch on? Rose?”

She fished her olive out of her drink and pinged it across the bar. The young woman with the hood jerked, and the olive hit her in the head so hard it exploded.

“Ow! Jelaqua! What the hell?”

“Sorry. Get over here and say hi. Keeping out of trouble, yeah?”

Rose came over, wiping at olive gunk, and introduced herself to Melika. The Garuda blinked and sobered up slightly.

“Oh my. Oh, my dear…you have the most intense charm-Skills I’ve seen. Are you related to my class? I’m a [Socialite]—I hope you’re careful, or you might get in trouble if you turn up that charm at an event. It’s borderline criminal.”

Rose jumped as the Garuda shook her hand. She blushed, and Jelaqua eyed her. The Selphid had thought Rose was looking good recently…

“I, uh, it’s new.”

“Well, be careful—someone might notice that. How do you and Miss Ivirith know each other?”

“We’re friends from The Wandering Inn.”

“My! That famous place? I almost went once, since Salkis talks it up so, but it’s so dangerous.”

Melika shivered, and Jelaqua tilted her head.

“Salkis. Salkis…how do I know that name?”

“She’s that bitch that Numbtongue is seeing. Drake, black scales. How do you know her, Melika?”

Rose offered, and Melika narrowed her eyes.

“Salkis is my step-daughter.”

The young Human woman hesitated. She inched back as Jelaqua covered a laugh.

“Oh. Oh…right, well, it’s nice meeting you. I’ll just go over here now. She’s still a bitch.”

She retreated with Mirn, and Melika glowered until Jelaqua muttered to her.

“Don’t mind Rose—she’s decent. I’d take you to the inn on a quiet day. You’d get a kick out of the garden.”

“I’d love that. And I’m not that upset. I know Salkis is…difficult. I’m actually glad that Numbtongue fellow is dating her.”

It was Jelaqua’s turn to be astonished.

“You, uh, you’ve met him?”

“In disguise, but yes. I’m not blind, Jelaqua, and I, well, I remember the Halfseekers, and I’ve heard of the inn. Frankly, he’s better than some of the young men I’ve seen her with.”

That said more about Salkis than it did about Numbtongue, the Selphid suspected. Melika began talking over her woes with her stepdaughter, who didn’t really see her as a parent. Jelaqua was willing to listen, though her experience with children was nonexistent unless you counted Gold-rankers; in which case, she was an expert.

However, a commotion at the doors made everyone turn and go silent. Jelaqua peeked up as someone whispered.

“Heads up! Trouble—”

Everyone went quiet, and Mirn glanced towards a back door. Jelaqua was about to tell Melika to keep her head down—they weren’t in danger—when a figure came striding into the bar. She made a beeline for the counter, brushing her cloak back.

“I’m here for a drink. Nothing more. Every bar has to serve all guests, regardless of species. Isn’t that right…barkeep?”

There was an edge to the militant voice as the figure placed coins on the counter, and Mirn nodded, hand under the bar.

“Sure is. We just don’t let rabble inside. Have a seat. What can I get you?”

“Firebreath Whiskey. Frosted.”

“We’re out of ice. Here.”

The Drake grunted as they grabbed a plain, colorless drink and took one sip. From their grimace as they turned in their seat, it was bad stuff. Everyone was silent until Mirn coughed. He seemed to sniff the air for a second, then sighed.

“…Well, I think it’s good. What, you all want an invitation to talk?”

That coded signal let the voices resume, if carefully. Some of the dancers halted and went back to their seats, but Mirn’s word reassured the rest…though many kept glancing at the door.

“That [Doorwoman] isn’t earning her pay tonight. Sorry for being part of the trouble.”

Jelaqua commented to Mirn. He scowled.

“He’s not a [Doordrake]. Who the hell has that class? Aside from that one kid in Liscor.”

“You’d be surprised. Sorry, it feels like we’re Solsticing up this place. I blame Rose.”

“Hey! What did I do?”

The young woman protested, and Jelaqua shrugged as she took a sip from her cup. Then she scooted her chair over to the newcomer.

“I dunno, it’s just a really small city. Isn’t it, Shirka?”

General Shirka jumped as she pivoted.

“Jelaqua Ivirith? How the hell—?”

Melika gasped.

“General? Is that you? Oh my word! I’m hardly presentable—good evening!”

Shirka’s identity made Mirn stiffen up, and even more people turned to look at them, but Jelaqua was all smiles.

“What brings you here, Shirka? You’re scaring folks. Wander in by accident?”

“No. And I’m not looking for trouble. I’m just…observing. Are you a—a regular of this kind of establishment?”

The [General] almost sounded hopeful, but the Selphid just winked at a confused Melika and the others.

“Nah. But Selphids are welcome pretty much anywhere but respectable society so long as we’ve got enough gold. Don’t let me keep you, though you’re going to clear out every bar you come to if you barge in like that.”

She nodded to Shirka and the people who were indeed leaving. Shirka grunted.

“How am I supposed to come in?”

“By invitation. Jelaqua, are you vouching for 2nd Army’s [General]?”

Mirn threw down a dishrag. Jelaqua shrugged.

“If I did, would you take it? General Shirka and I only know each other in passing. Just don’t ruin your night over it. If she were coming to settle a score, I bet she’d be here with eight squads of [Soldiers].”

The Drake nodded.

“True. I don’t do personal reconnaissance. Good way to get headshot. Gears of Pallass, I’m just listening. Peaceably.”

She held up a clawed hand, and Mirn spat on the floor.

“Well, if this is a free-for-all, why don’t we invite the entire city in next? Fine. Rose, hand me that mop, would you?”

What a strange night. Jelaqua returned to her drinks as Melika whispered to her, trying to understand why Shirka was here. If Jelaqua understood the nature of this bar, Shirka’s curiosity was fascinating, both to her and to Mirn and Rose.

Not her business. Just like Kevin and Rhaldon—damn, she had to get back to that! But she wasn’t backing Kevin to the end. She was just…nosy. Bored.

She could be allowed to have fun with Melika, give Shirka a bit of a claw, and play with kids, right? Jelaqua had nothing better to do. Not even help Lord Moore. She was retired.

Retired…she stared into her drink and sighed.

“Damn. I just don’t have enough to do.”

 

——

 

Well, the drinking with Melika was fun. The bar warmed up after it was clear the newcomers were just there to drink the swill. In fact, everyone gave Mirn a hard time about his drinks, from Shirka to Jelaqua.

The [General] herself was so annoyed she actually grabbed the bottles and mixed up drinks better than he could.

“Weren’t you friends with Saliss at one point? Former Alchecorps, right? How can you not mix a drink?”

“You want to see me throw it at you? I’m good at that—damn it, why is this better?”

Whereupon Shirka was appointed temporary bartender for the night. Jelaqua only had two more drinks. She had a timetable to keep, but Melika seemed to have a hole in one of her…wait, she only had sandals.

Well, a hole somewhere because she put down drinks like they were water. Not that she wasn’t soused; she got chattier as the night progressed, and she was interesting when you got to talking with her.

“Everyone thinks I’m from Chandrar or native-born to Pallass. There’s no one I can talk to about home, Jelaqua.”

“How long did you live in Baleros, then?”

Melika counted on her claws.

“Oh, until fourteen or so? I’m not actually that sure. I bought a ticket for Izril with all the gold I’d saved—there’s just not the same prospects in Baleros for, well, engagements.”

“Ah, you were planning on marrying into wealth even then?”

The [Socialite] glanced at Jelaqua swiftly, perhaps to see if the Selphid was mocking her, but Jelaqua was cool as the cucumber floating in her drink. Melika nodded.

“Yes, well, I was attractive and good at catching people’s eyes. But Baleros—you either marry a [Mercenary Captain] or try to work your way into the Great Companies, and Niers Astoragon’s wasn’t one of the four back then. So it felt like I’d have to work my way into another culture.”

“Dullahans, who have problems with outsiders, Lizardfolk and the Nagas—pretty tricky, and they were bad before Niers took them out—Gazers—hah!—or Centaurs. Of the lot, you’d do okay with Maelstrom’s Howling, but that would mean they’d want kids. Centaur kids.”

Melika shuddered.

“I’ve heard it can be done, but that was pretty much my train of logic. So I bought a ticket. Chandrar was out; I’m just another Garuda there and, worse, an outsider. Terandria I thought about, but I felt like I lacked the social graces, and if I’m the lone Garuda…then I heard about Pallass. And its Garuda population.”

“Ah, so that’s how you met Werdin.”

Melika stirred her drink with a claw.

“It wasn’t easy. But I did have a good run of things until we tied the knot. I didn’t expect…Salkis. I’ve tried to connect with her, truly, but I can’t blame her for seeing me as a gemsnatching hoard-wife.”

“If she talked to you for five minutes, I doubt you’d give that impression. You’re not all fancy feathers. Surviving in Baleros as a non-native species and making a trip to a foreign continent isn’t easy. You’re not as innocent as some of your peers.”

For instance, Jelaqua had noticed Melika did have a dagger on the inside of a thigh. Melika waved the compliment off.

“I’m not you, Captain Ivirith. I—I know Salkis is running with a dangerous crowd. She hints sometimes…”

“So? Show her you’ve got some claws as well. Kids think they’re the only brave, rebellious, and original people in the world. They think age means we lost all that, not that we survived.”

Jelaqua Ivirith grinned, and Melika wore a delighted smile, then shook her head.

“No…Jelaqua, for such an upstanding Gold-rank Captain, you speak like a [Rebel]! That’s not the model I need to be, Jelaqua. To fit into Drake society, to get ahead, I have to be, the kids have to be exceptional. It’s possible! Ophala is a wonderful example, and I just wish Anama and the others would make an effort. I know it’s hard, but I did it.”

She was frustrated and actually slapped the bar with a hand before wincing.

“Ow. They just don’t ever put any effort in and give up. I wish I had more support. With a bit more actual care and attention, they’d all become wonderful people, I know it!”

Her eyes were filled with a beautiful conviction. One not reflected in Jelaqua Ivirith’s gaze, which was lit by her internal body and some lamps on the tables. Mirn silently served them both another drink as Jelaqua met his eyes, then drained her cup.

“It’s hard to make yourself into a perfect statue when you start out looking like they do. Everything and everyone tells them they’re flawed and worthless. They try to climb up, and someone steps on their fingers, Melika. You can’t blame them.”

“Captain Jelaqua—!”

Melika bristled, then went quiet. She drank from a straw in her drink before muttering.

“I know that. I know how little Pallass cares. Every time I run a concert, everyone fills me with hope and donations and sends me little [Messages] about the children they met and how much they’re glad I’m doing what I’m doing. In a week, they’ve all but forgotten. If I suggest a fundraiser before a year has passed, someone asks me if I’m pushing this too hard. People who abandon Scorchling children the moment they’re born without even going to a [Healer]’s, or just leave them in an alleyway—”

She leaned over the bar, staring down at the floor for a long moment. Then, Jelaqua thought, forced herself to relax, to smile ruefully.

“We do what we can, Jelaqua. Causing a fuss works when it is to a good cause, in the right way. Just lashing out earns you nothing but trouble. Take Werdin for example. I’m a credit to the Blackwing name with him, and he sees how much value I bring to our relationship. Along with personal attraction, of course. But we must prove ourselves. The first real generation of Uplifting Wings is struggling, but once we can show people how good they can be…then it’ll get better.”

The Selphid nodded and wondered how long Melika had been working as director of Uplifting Wings. It was probably something you could look into. What she said spoke to parts of Jelaqua; she could imagine Melika giving the same speech to her coworkers and staff. What the Selphid said, as she toasted Melika, was:

“It’s a beautiful dream, Melika. I hope it happens, I do. I don’t have the patience to fight wars like that. I’m an adventurer.”

“Oh, Jelaqua. Please. We’ve known real wars in Baleros. This is just my—work.”

“If you say so. But I can see a woman fighting. Hey Mirn, about that tab?”

 

——

 

They were walking back out of the bar and it was late. Not a lot of people on the 4th Floor—there was definitely some crime, so Jelaqua told Melika she’d better fly.

“Not much crime if you just flap up. C’mon.”

“Nooo. I’ll crash. Walk with me, please?”

Jelaqua sighed. She had to walk the unsteady Garuda upwards. She should have called someone to get Melika—her assistant or someone—but this was probably safer. For Melika. Jelaqua kept an eye over her shoulder, hoping she could get this next part out of the way…

Ah, perfect. She had to walk them in a circle by the orphanage twice, but the tail finally picked them up. They must have missed the bar. Then Jelaqua led them towards the grand stairwell. They were passing down some open streets when the gang finally showed up in a clatter of boots.

“Hey, Selphid, drop your coin pouch. And freeze!”

They were slightly out of breath from running, and young. Mid-twenties. Drakes and two Gnolls. No familiar faces—Jelaqua turned from the trash can she’d been closing.

“Oh no. A mugging!”

She had a grin on her face. Then she made a fist as they spread out; there were about a dozen of them, most with knives. One lit theirs with a bit of oil, and Jelaqua snorted.

“Listen, kids. I may be drunk, but I’m a Gold-ranker. Retired, but you lot put away your knives or I’ll trash all of you.”

Her rank made several visibly hesitate. They stared over her shoulder as Jelaqua strolled forwards, rolling up her sleeves. The leader, a burly Drake, barked.

“Drop your coins or we’ll cut you up! We’re the Flameblades, right?”

“And what’re you going to do about it if I don’t, beansprout? I eat Crelers for breakfast. C’mon, if you’re doing this, let’s—argh!”

The club hit the back of Jelaqua Ivirith’s head, and she staggered as the [Rogue] sneaking up behind her hit her with all their strength. That was the signal; the gang charged her and began to kick and punch at the Selphid.

“You—wait—the pain—help!”

Gold-ranker or not, Jelaqua only managed a few swings before they clubbed her to the ground. She kept writhing around as they stomped on her, before going slack. The panting gang kept punching and beating her before their leader called out.

“Alright, stop, stop—don’t kill her, idiots! Someone get her coin pouch! See if she’s got any gear on her.”

“Gold-rank gear? Wait…she’s got no bag of holding. Just some gold.”

“Damn. She must’ve given most of it away to the damn charity. Fuck—okay. Let’s go then!”

The Flameblades were visibly crestfallen, and a few went to kick the unconscious Selphid lying on the street. They were tossing coins to each other and searching around for witnesses when someone cursed.

“Ivirith?”

“Who the h—”

That was the last thing the gang leader said before a foot took him out of reality for a while. The rest of the Flameblades were still staring at their leader flying when General Shirka leg-swept another. She punched them into the floor as their feet left the ground and hit a third gang member like a wagon.

They never had a chance. The 2nd Army’s [General] didn’t need weapons or armor; she’d been trained by Saliss of Lights, and she stomped through the entire group so fast that the trash can lid barely had time to lift.

“Oh, General Shirka! Thank goodness! Help, help! Someone call the Watch! And a [Healer]! Jelaqua, are you alive?”

Melika Blackwing had been hiding in the trash can and poked a disheveled head out. Shirka jumped as the gang lay on the ground, unconscious or groaning in agony. The [General] strode over.

“How the hell did they jump Ivirith? She wasn’t that drunk—”

“One of them hit her from behind! Oh, oh, it was terrible! She made me hide here, and then—I—I have her bag of holding!”

“Excellent. Up you get, come on. I’ll grab Ivirith—we’re getting out of here before reinforcements show. I don’t want you or her in danger. We’ll summon the Watch.”

Shirka yanked Melika out of the trash can, then picked up Jelaqua. She and Melika raced away from the fight scene as the unconscious Flameblades littered the ground. Shirka had good instincts…though the Flameblades were probably only twelve strong. She clearly knew how to behave on the street, but hadn’t much actual practice. A lifetime of soldiering did that to you.

Melika had even worse instincts. She went flapping drunkenly along, shouting.

“Watch! Watch, help! There’s been a mugging! Call a [Healer]! Oh, Ancestors, is she alive?”

Shirka was feeling at Jelaqua’s head with a frown.

“She should be. Selphids can’t be hurt from exterior damage that badly—unless she was just that drunk? Jelaqua, can you hear—”

The Selphid’s head rose, and she pushed herself out of Shirka’s arm so fast the [General] recoiled. The Selphid landed nimbly and glowered.

“I’m fine. And I’d have been more fine if you hadn’t beaten that gang down! Now I’ve gotta deal with that. Melika, stop screaming.”

“Wh—”

Both Drake and Garuda recoiled as Jelaqua cricked her neck and glowered. General Shirka glanced back the way she’d come.

“A feint? But why?”

“Think about it—well, I guess you didn’t realize what was going on. Not your fault. Thanks, Shirka. Melika, I told you I’d be fine. That’s a Pallassian gang? Wow, they’re soft. They didn’t even break my skull.”

Jelaqua had been worked over and on the losing end of fights in the street more than once. Being in a dead body meant you didn’t suffer the loss as badly—even if they knew you were a Selphid, most people didn’t have the guts to stomp until your head was fully caved in. But damage was damage. She grimaced.

“I’m still going to need a new body, though. Damn, I liked this one. Okay, General, can you take Melika back to her mansion? I just need my bag of holding—thanks Melika—and I’ll be fine.”

“But wh—Jelaqua, I thought they had you!”

Melika was wide-eyed and still shaking. Shirka, on the other hand, was glancing from Jelaqua to the street and putting together the chain of events. She nodded.

“Apologies about that.”

“Eh, like I said, you couldn’t have known. I have to go. They’re just playing dead, and if they think the Watch is coming…see you two later! Melika, good drinks! Let’s do it again sometime!”

“Er—um—thank you?”

They watched Jelaqua race off, and Melika flapped there a few moments until she crashed onto the ground. Shirka helped her up. The Garuda gestured.

“What was that?”

The [General] rubbed at her chin.

“At a guess? Street politics. You wouldn’t happen to know who wanted Adventurer Ivirith beat down, would you? Someone that Jelaqua didn’t want to…stymie or endanger?”

Melika stared blankly at Shirka, aghast at the very notion of having underworld ties. Then her eyes widened.

“Maybe—oh no!”

 

——

 

Anama was waiting back at the Flameblade’s hideout, peeling a filched orange for her boyfriend. She was antsy, and when she heard the clatter of feet, she jumped up.

“Hey, did you get—”

The sight of the beaten-up gang limping in made her go silent with shock. Then the [Gang Leader], Mortton, stumbled in.

“Mort! What happened?”

“What happened? We got the Gold-rank, no problem, but then a damn [General] showed up! And there was no gold, artifacts, or the bicycles!”

He hissed at her, and she backed up as the wrath of the Flameblades turned on her.

“Hey! What [General]? I didn’t know about that? Thill was on scout duty!”

She pointed at the Gnoll who’d been tailing Jelaqua all night. The Gnoll had a bruise from being thumped for losing the Selphid once; she protested.

“I’m not the one who said she was an easy mark! We did this for you!”

“I knew she was bad luck!”

Another member exclaimed. They spat, furious and hurt, badly in two cases where Shirka had broken ribs with ease. Mort was just looking around at his gang, who wouldn’t be able to act for a while. He rounded on Anama, an easy target.

“You cost us big, Anama. There’s no healing potions, and your intel was screwy. I did this as a favor to you. How’re you gonna make it up?”

“Hey! You said you’d help because she choked me out! Mort, c’mon. We’re a couple…”

Anama tried to put a clawed hand on his chest, but he slapped it down. Then cursed; she was still so hot it was like touching an iron.

“We should have gotten that stupid Garuda noble! But no, you don’t think she’s worth it! We can’t get the coin pouches going to the charity you were bragging about, you can’t find any keys to the mansion—”

He began jabbing Anama in the chest, and she flinched.

“Mort, that hurts! Stop it!”

She backed up as the Flameblades clustered up, venting both their fury and grudges built up. Thill, who until Anama had been Mort’s girlfriend, whispered.

“I told you she was just using you, boss! She can’t fight, she leaves a trail—”

“I flamed off that gang yesterday for you! Don’t pin this all on me! I’m sorry, okay? Mort, c’mon—”

He was making quick calculations in his head. The Drake cast around, then hissed.

“Someone get the door. This is a bad score, right? What happens when someone makes a bad score?”

A silence fell, and every eye turned to Anama. Thill finished the sentence.

“They pay for it.”

“Wait, wait—”

The Scorchling was backing up now, and someone went for the door. Her eyes were wide.

“Mort? Mort, please—”

The door closed, letting no sound out of their hideout in one of the unused buildings marked for demolition, and then terrible things would ensue. What, exactly, depended on how much of a bastard Mort would be.

“See, this is why I hate kids. You’re almost old enough to be full monsters, but I can never tell. Do you work her over and leave her in the street? Tie her up, sell her to a [Slaver]? Force her to work in a brothel? Something darker? And all this because Shirka couldn’t help but be a hero.”

The door halted a millimeter before closing, and the Selphid shoved it open—and the Drake behind it—as she strolled in. Again, the Flameblades saw the surreal image of someone flying through the air until they crashed onto the ground and lay there.

“Wh—oh shit.”

The nearest Drake was the [Rogue] who’d hit her. He went for his daggers. Good instincts, but Jelaqua wasn’t letting him sneak up on her this time. She kicked him in the groin. He made a high-pitched sound and fell over.

“How’d she find—”

Gnoll with a club. Jelaqua kicked him in the balls, and he doubled over and curled up.

“Get out! Get—”

The third Flameblade was a female Drake, but in Jelaqua’s experience, if you kicked anyone that hard in the groin, they tended to lie down. Which this Drake did, whimpering.

“We beat you down! We did!”

Mort drew a flaming dagger as he backed up, eyes wide. Anama was frozen as Jelaqua Ivirith walked into their hideout. Her skull was dented in, and one of her eyes was unfocused; gashes on her body from their boots and blades showed eerily bloodless skin, but a faint orange glow came from her eyes.

Selphid. Bodysnatcher of Baleros. Jelaqua smiled as she beckoned.

“Kid, you could have left your girlfriend alone and you still have the coins you took from me. Does love mean nothing? Sorry, Anama. He’s not a keeper.”

She glanced at the Scorchling, and Mort lunged. Jelaqua blocked the blade with her hand; it went through, and she closed her fist. Wrenched the dagger out of his grip and plucked it out.

The color drained from the Drake’s face as he scrambled back, and Jelaqua eyed it.

“Cheap enchantment. Doesn’t even cauterize my wounds. Next time, remember this, Mort.”

She stepped forwards in a blur and pivoted to his side. He twisted, and she threw a punch.

“Any other Gold-ranker will kill you. Just. Like. This.”

 

——

 

Anama had been in street fights and even helped mug a few flatfoots. She’d seen some big gang fights only as a spectator. But she’d never seen someone hit someone and just…fold them up.

Mort wasn’t moving. Was he even breathing? He lay there, all tangled up, mouth open, eyes wide, and he might be dead.

They all might be dead. Not a single Flameblade was on their feet. The young Drake woman was shaking so bad that when Jelaqua turned, she tried to run.

Anama slammed into a table and some chairs, tripped, fell, and got up.

“No, nononono, please, I’m sorry! Don’t—”

She began screaming as Jelaqua grabbed her tail and hauled her back from the door. Anama shielded her face, and Jelaqua hoisted her up.

“Alright, let’s go.”

She hung Anama under one arm like a piece of luggage and kicked the hideout door off its hinges, then strode into the street. The Selphid was yawning.

“Which way d’you live? Probably that way. You know what? I’m too tired.”

She walked down a street and then dropped Anama. The Drake girl covered her face.

“Please, please don’t—I’m not gonna heal!”

More burn marks from her skin. Jelaqua Ivirith stared at her, then felt at her head.

“Yep, you’re too hot. Told you. Go back home and get in a bath. Cold as you can. If the well’s not working, go to a bathhouse. Even if they don’t like it, they have ones for the elderly that get scrubbed for dead scales, and Gnolls are hairy. Soak for at least twenty minutes. Oh, and don’t come back here and try to make up with this lot. They should grow a brain if I haven’t knocked it out of them, but you showing your face is a surefire way to get hurt.”

She fished in her bag of holding, and Anama stared at her. After a moment, Jelaqua placed something on the Drake’s forehead. The girl flinched, then stared as a few silver coins bounced onto the ground.

“You’re not going to—?”

The Selphid stood with her back to the moon, eyes still faintly shining. It was impossible to read her face as she spoke.

“I don’t hit idiot kids.”

Anama stared back at the Flameblade’s destroyed headquarters. Jelaqua glanced at it.

“They graduated. You’re young, stupid, and if it were any other Gold-ranker, any other active Gold-ranker, half that gang would be dead. Go home and soak. If you had mugged Melika or she’d talked about being robbed, I’d have graduated you too. That gang’s got nothing for you, kid. They’re not a family. Family doesn’t throw you out the moment something bad happens.”

She turned on her heel and began to walk towards the grand staircases, shaking her head. Anama sat there, realizing she was being lectured, not beaten down for her mistakes. She grabbed the silver coins, then clenched her claw over them.

“What would you know about what I’ve been through? You or Melika? You’re both rich and—”

The Selphid was half a street away, and at this point, Anama really should have known how fast she could move. Because Jelaqua turned and was lifting Anama up by the shirt in less than a second. Now her eyes narrowed, and she growled.

“I’m a Halfseeker of Izril. Call me and my team privileged and I will feed you that word. You think Melika’s life is easy?”

She held Anama up as the Scorchling girl gasped. Jelaqua stared up at the cracked moon and whole one.

“Well, maybe it is. I doubt it; I think she worked to marry some Drake who I’m not convinced knows she can think. But she’s still the one trying to help you. Don’t beat down her because life’s raining on you. She’s not your enemy. And stop trying to make me one. Bath.”

She dropped Anama. The Drake girl landed on her butt and sat there, too afraid to say anything until Jelaqua Ivirith was out of sight. Only then did Anama stop holding the coins in her hands; she’d begin to deform them if she kept holding onto them with her burning hands.

She tried not to, she did, because it would hurt and it was embarrassing and she was too old for them. But then the girl sobbed for a bit.

When a Scorchling wept, they cried steam.

Jelaqua Ivirith kicked every rock and piece of trash between here and her home on the 8th Floor.

 

——

 

Amazingly, the party at her house was still going when Jelaqua got back. When she walked in all messy, everyone turned.

“Jelaqua!”

Maughin started, but she lifted her hands.

“I know it looks bad. Gang jumped me and Melika. My body’s busted up, but I’m fine.”

“Are they alive?”

She smiled as Felkhr relaxed. She went to hug Maughin and nodded at Grimalkin.

“They’re fine. Just beat down.”

“I’m sorry your body was damaged. Is it something the Watch is handling?”

“Eh, they’re kids. I just worked them over and left. I don’t believe in the Watch arresting too many kids.”

He opened his mouth, then nodded. Lady Pryde Ulta was sniffing behind her bag as she sat on a couch.

“Yet another reason why Ulta lands are superior. Any wayward child we mind and look after. Unruly youths are a community’s problem.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they love that. Kevin and Rhaldon didn’t come back?”

“Oh, they did. I needed more crab! But they all left to argue about them damn engine-things. We’re playing Archmage’s Gambit. You in, Selphid?”

Pelt was at a table with some [Smiths] playing cards. Jelaqua waved a hand.

“I need to change bodies.”

“You’re sure you’re alright, Jelaqua?”

Maughin was all concern, but she just hugged him.

“I’m fine, Maughy. You know me. Tougher’n a Swamp Hydra.”

“I just can’t believe they touched you. How many were there? Thirty? Were they high-level?”

She picked up his head and whispered to him as she went to the basement where she kept her bodies in storage.

“I did it on purpose. I’ll tell you later. Everything going well here?”

“Oh, yes. We have a plan and proposal for the [Senators]. We’re just, um, drinking…”

He wore that guilty look of a husband having a night with the lads—and a few lasses—while the wife was out. Jelaqua Ivirith grinned.

“Without me? I’ll be out for some cards in no time! And I’d love a decent drink. I’ve been having pigpiss all night!”

So she went and had fun until they were seeing everyone staggering out of the house. Grimalkin and Pryde went out together, and he turned at the door.

“Ah, remember, I have a new initiative in my Training Gymnasium—a boxing ring. You’re all welcome to come by, and I would love the data.”

“Ooh! Another thing from the inn?”

Jelaqua grinned as she unsteadily cleaned the tables. Pryde thrust out her chest.

“From my lands, actually. We have a promising young man who’s revolutionized our programs. A [Professional Weightlifter], no less! Which puts us on parity with Pallass itself, Grimalkin. You have one, we have one.”

Grimalkin met Jelaqua’s eyes, and he nodded as the Selphid blinked. He smiled at Pryde with that strange expression of someone finding themselves falling uncontrollably in love. Jelaqua had seen it in a mirror a lot.

“I would never assume I was in a superior position to you, Pryde.”

That completely flummoxed the [Lady] of House Ulta, and she stood there for a few seconds before clearing her throat.

“Oh. Well then. Very good. To sleep!”

The door closed, and Jelaqua commented to Maughin.

“They’re so cute they make me sick. Okay, how was your day? Did you drink out our entire cabinet? Eh, I’ll buy more tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, it was such a relief after all the stress…what happened? I thought you were going to the charity event you were late to. How did that turn into drinking?”

She caught him up as they cleaned up and went to bed, and Maughin was fairly aghast by a gang attacking her in the streets, even when she told him they were kids. He was from an upstanding family, she supposed.

“It’s fine, Maughy. I’ll just check on Melika in the morning…and Kevin…sleep well! We’re gonna be busy.”

She rolled over in bed as he put his head in the separate basket filled with pillows, and they slept. But Jelaqua didn’t immediately go to sleep.

In the darkness, she stared at the ceiling. And her lecture to Anama was sour in her mouth.

Easy for me to talk down to her when she’s probably unable to get most jobs. Kid’s living in an apartment without water…what was that about some act? Melika’s doing her best, but she and Anama have to know…

Scorchlings don’t make it to thirty most of the time. She’s a classic case. What would Halassia say? Damn it, Halassia…I could have used you. Instead you had to fight Garen—!

The orphanage looks good. Melika seems honest. But the older kids don’t have anyone. Ophala, right? She and Anama—

Why was Shirka at the Turnscale bar? Argh, I hope they’re safe.

None of my business. I’m just here. I hope Kevin’s not doing something stupid.

You can’t fix Anama’s problems like that. I know. I know, damn it. A bag of gold wouldn’t do a thing, and beating down that gang just means she’s alone now. It’s not my area. Melika can handle things.

Lots to do. Nothing to do.

Tons of stuff to keep her busy, nothing that made her…Jelaqua tossed and turned in bed, then remembered she hadn’t had sex with Maughin. Two nights in a row! She’d lose a level in her [Wife] class!

She was smiling about that and finally yawning as she went to sleep…Jelaqua Ivirith began to snooze without the voice that gave her levels, but that was fine. She was no [Drunkard], and that was the only class you could conceivable say she’d earned real experience in tonight.

 

——

 

—Jelaqua awoke and lay in bed as there was a clank and rustling in the night. Not sounds you ever wanted to hear when you were sure no one else was in the house but you…because now you were definitely unsure you were alone.

Maughin had heard it too. His eyes were open as his body fumbled around, and he whispered.

“Jelaqua? Did you hear…?”

The Gold-ranker listened.

“Sounds like a racoon in the kitchen. Be right back, I’ll just throw it out.”

Blearily, she rolled out of bed and walked out of the bedroom while adjusting her nightgown. Maughin was less confident, but the thing about being a Gold-rank [Warrior] was that you had little fear of what went bump in the night unless it was a loud damn bump.

She tip-toed to the kitchen without Seborn’s stealth, but silent enough for any Level 20 [Rogue], and realized the sounds and growling was too loud for your average raccoon. Jelaqua peered inside and saw a shape moving in the darkness, pulling out cabinets, eating whatever it could find—

 

——

 

Maughin heard the shout from Jelaqua then a howl and the sounds of fighting.

“Jelaqua? Jelaqua!”

He had to fumble his head onto his body and charged out of their bedrooms, armor clattering, holding a lamp as a weapon. He found Jelaqua in the kitchen, kneeling on something that thrashed and whined. Maughin froze as the huge, familiar shape heaved and collapsed, and Jelaqua panted.

“Maughin, dear? Call the Watch. We’ve got Raskghar.”

She was pinning one of them under one arm as he froze and stared at the bodies she sometimes wore for work. The Raskghar whined in pain as Jelaqua jerked her head towards the door.

“Now? And tell them to get me General Shirka.”

 

——

 

It was, in fact, Agent Zemize who appeared. The Drake marched past the Watch officers and flashed her badge to Watch Captain Qissa.

“Eyes of Pallass. Move the officers away, Watch Captain. We’ll have them all debriefed, and this is secret, top-level clearance only. We have a cage already on the way.”

“Curtains, I hope? I need to see your papers, Agent.”

Zemize faltered, then cursed and fumbled for her identification papers as Jelaqua glared at everyone. She was still sitting on the Raskghar, who’d given up trying to get away. After five long minutes of Qissa reading the papers in front of a visibly off-kilter Zemize, she handed them back.

“If I can ask—”

“No questions! Adventurer Ivirith, you’re also sworn to secrecy along with the other matters. It’s fortuitous you were the one to intercept this problem. Anyone else and this might have become a far larger issue. You have the city’s gratitude.”

Zemize pulled rank at last and nodded at Jelaqua. She was doing her best serious-agent attitude, and the Selphid wasn’t having it.

“Is that the only one or did more get out?”

“Classified, Adventurer. Rest assured, the situation is under control.”

“Really? It’s under control? Is that the only Raskghar or are there more? Because if there are more, and there’s not a plague of ‘Vorpal Rats’, then I’ll hunt them down myself. Answer my questions or I’ll use this Raskghar to beat you to death.”

Zemize, Qissa, and the Raskghar all eyed Jelaqua with considerable worry. The Eye of Pallass realized that the half-naked, very annoyed Selphid was not the person to try to pull rank on right now. She coughed.

“…That’s the only one. It broke confinement, and we’ve been searching for it since. I don’t know how it evaded us so long. They have—had tracking stones. I don’t get how it removed the one on it. Maybe it went dead?”

Jelaqua grunted; she’d had time to assess the condition of the Raskghar she was pinning. It was far healthier than the ones Pallass had taken—and it was the same damn group, she was sure! It still couldn’t overpower her, but it was closer than she wanted; only her superior leverage gave her the definitive edge.

“If it’s this wound on its neck, it looks like she ripped it out. Or someone else did for her. This is one of the smart ones. Small wonder she knew how to keep quiet. Though she seems to have gotten too hungry to keep hiding. Not a lot to eat if Pallass’ sewers are kept mostly rat-free.”

Zemize faltered. She eyed the Raskghar, and Jelaqua pointed down.

“She’s listening to us. Right?”

The Raskghar growled as she glared down and then, to everyone’s shock, rumbled.

“Yes. Not kill. Not kill…”

“It can talk?”

Qissa had a hand on her sword, and Zemize put a finger to her earhole.

“I want the Watch moved back. This is all private—there’s the cage now.”

A cage with a cloth barrier was being carried up towards them by [Soldiers], grunting at the weight. The Raskghar began to squirm, but Jelaqua just tightened her grip. And here was another face who looked woken from her sleep.

“Shirka.”

“Ivirith, that’s the third time I owe you tonight. Though it wasn’t 2nd Army that lost the Raskghar. Blame the facility. I told them they were too smart.”

General Shirka appeared as annoyed as Jelaqua felt. She crossed her arms as Agent Zemize strode over to her.

“General, we have this well in hand. You are giving away—”

“They’ve seen the Raskghar. What are you going to do, wipe their memories? One’s a Gold-rank adventurer and the other’s our Watch Captain. You can’t do it, and I’d want answers.”

Wipe our memories? Qissa stared at Shirka as the 2nd Army’s [General] inspected the Raskghar.

“This is the one that ate the Gnolls’ hearts. Jelaqua, can you get her up and in the cage? The lads and I can do it if you need help.”

“I’m fine. C’mon, you, up. If you want to be smart and try something, I’ve got a lot of rage against Nokha I can vent right now.”

The Raskghar didn’t fight. Instead, she whimpered.

“No, no hurt! I killed no one. Be nice, be gentle! No punishment!”

She went meekly back into the cage, and none of the women watching her believed the act for a second. Shirka exhaled.

“Okay. Agent, clean up this mess. Jelaqua, do you want to walk and talk?”

The Selphid stared blearily around the night street. The air was shimmering around her and Maughin’s house—probably spells to hide what was going on, but there were Watch officers and Eyes of Pallass everywhere. She glared at Shirka.

“What’s there to talk about? You’ve got secret Raskghar you’re training to use in combat?”

Shirka nodded. Zemize strode back over.

“The exact use of the Raskghar has not been determined, and the use of auxiliary forces in Walled City operations is completely legal under—”

“Shut up, we’re talking.”

Jelaqua glared at her. Then she turned back to Shirka.

“This would be a terrible special unit for 2nd Army.”

“On that, we agree. All of the idiots working on them keep talking about training them to military standards. What standards? If they marched and carried spears in formation, I’d trust them less. I’d rather have rabid warhounds.”

“Hmpf. Well, you’re smart. I’m going to sleep.”

Jelaqua stomped back towards her house. Zemize faltered.

“Don’t you want to know…?”

“I know everything! Tell your High Command they’re dumb as rocks! Chaldion would have known better!”

Jelaqua slammed the door. After a moment, General Shirka leaned over to Zemize.

“Chaldion wanted the Raskghar to begin with. But this isn’t their use case, Agent. Not my army. And frankly, a Raskghar that can break out of an underground facility and make it to the 8th Floor with the Watch and your Eyes of Pallass on alert?”

She eyed the Raskghar in the cage.

“I don’t think I want to know what the Grand Strategist was planning on using them for.”

So saying, the [General] whirled on her heel and marched off. Qissa eyed Zemize and strode off before she could be given orders. The Eye of Pallass stood there until she heard a strange sound from the cage.

The Raskghar giggled like a hyena. The Eye of Pallass scowled at it.

“Shut up.”

 

——

 

Jelaqua Ivirith’s day did not get much better from there—at least, not at first. She was bleary and tired in the morning and thinking about special units in war.

Very common, actually. Chandrarian War Elephants, hyenas, monsters unleashed in battle like Hydras—you could even argue Griffins and Wyverns were just that.

They were very effective if used right; an expensive idiocy if not, and doubtless Pallass was checking to see if this was a worthwhile initiative. It was the kind of thing a nation did, Jelaqua knew.

She just…felt like it was Baleros all over. Baleros had tons of this kind of thing. Lizardfolk Death Battallions, War Hydras, War Walkers…and Selphids, her people, often got formed into such groups.

Niers Astoragon himself used Selphids not as expendable bands, but as the vanguards of his army. Which made them…better? They still died. She didn’t feel bad for the Raskghar; they were monsters who ate Gnolls and wanted to eat Mrsha.

But she didn’t like cages. Not when what was inside them could talk, and even without speech, she had never really liked menageries.

Not. Her. Problem.

She snapped her toothbrush, and that sort of began her day. Maughin was all cheer.

“I have to get to Master Pelt’s to work on those forge plans! He admitted, you know, that it’s a task and a half! And he wants to use my forge when it’s done!”

“That’s nice, dear. Charge him for it.”

“Charge him? I could never—!”

She sighed. Maughin still held that old Dwarf in too much esteem. Jelaqua rose.

“I’m going to the inn. I’ll be back tonight. We might have to fend for ourselves, okay?”

He assured her he’d find dinner, and she strode out and nearly ran into his younger sister.

Street Runner Linteca had a message for Jelaqua and a question.

“What happened here last night, Miss Jelaqua? Your neighbors say there was a commotion. Nothing wrong with my brother, I trust?”

“Classified.”

Jelaqua snapped back and was glad to see Linteca’s face grow slack. She snatched the missive from the young woman. Then brightened.

“Oh. A new body’s available.”

Linteca grimaced and wiped her hands as Jelaqua grew distracted with a Selphid’s business. Maughin came out of his home and blinked.

“Linteca? Ah, good morning. How is Mother…?”

Jelaqua let them natter on as she changed course. Her body broker had a new corpse to sell, and he’d offered the first choice to Jelaqua, as the richest Selphid in the city. You didn’t turn down a fresh corpse. She’d been hoping to spice things up in the bedroom with Maughin, and there was nothing like a new body for that.

 

——

 

There were about, oh, two hundred Selphids in Pallass by Jelaqua’s estimation. Which sounded like a lot until you realized how many millions of people were in Pallass; they were a drop in a bucket.

Even so, these Selphids all needed dead bodies, and while many people died in a city like Pallass each week, very few of them, or their families, wanted to sell their bodies in most cases.

Thus, a ‘body broker’, whose job it was to delicately negotiate for the deceased’s corpses, tended to appear in most cities. They handled the, uh, difficult explanations and took a fee to get the body to their clients, who were Selphids.

Obviously they tried to find fresh bodies in good condition, especially high-level ones or ones with good features, both literal and internal.

You could get a lot of bastards in that line of work. Jelaqua’s contact in Pallass seemed on the level, but he had that kind of lack-of-care when it came to the dead that came from too much time with them. She knew it well and tried to fight against it.

“Ciorg. Who’s passed?”

The Human man—he was a Selphid too—was rubbing his hands together as she came into the mortuary where he stored bodies. He had a gel on them she recognized; it was one of the Selphid preservatives that kept a body fresh when in use or storage.

“Got a real fresh one for you, Jelaqua. Right off the slab. Lucky find too; they weren’t five minutes in their apartment before someone glimpsed through the window. Natural causes, not, y’know, self-inflicted.”

“Show some respect, would you?”

Jelaqua glowered at him, and Ciorg put up his hands.

“Sorry, sorry. Just excited. I’ve got [Reverse Decay: Fifteen Minutes], so this is the freshest body I’ve had all year. Now, there’s a few downsides, but those nerve endings are going to be pristine.”

She rubbed at her face. This was where Jelaqua understood the existential horror that came to other species when they realized what Selphids did. She grumbled.

“Sorry, it’s been a bad night. Monster in my house.”

“Ouch. Well, you can make up for it with a new vessel. I did a quick check—didn’t touch anything, of course. Every nerve ending is intact. And they’re female, just like you like. Now, this isn’t a combat body, and, uh, looks aren’t everything, okay?”

It probably meant there was a visible wound or something. Jelaqua walked over to the sheet covering the body.

“If they’re badly wounded, I’ll need an illusion or it’ll freak Maughin out. Just wh—”

When she pulled the cloth back, Jelaqua recoiled. She froze up, and Ciorg raised his hands.

“Now, Jelaqua, it’s not the plague, just a condition they get. You ever heard of a—Scorchling? ‘Course you have. It’s fine now that they’re dead, but—”

It wasn’t Anama. But for one moment, the girl’s face had superimposed itself over the Drake woman lying there. Jelaqua began breathing again, and she saw that the scales that had fallen off the Drake’s body were only on her left side.

Scorch marks, tiny ones, and terrible burns on her flesh. Must be lightning-element. She seemed to be in her forties. Jelaqua whispered.

“How’d she die?”

“Heart stopped. Pretty common with them, I’m told. Amazing she made it this long. Like I said, looks aren’t everything, but the condition—”

Jelaqua stopped listening. She just bent over the dead Drake woman and gazed down at her face. Ciorg was no [Mortician]; he didn’t prepare the dead for burial and adjust their features to be peaceful. A desperate scowl was crossing this Drake’s face, and it looked like she had been struggling. Fighting to stay alive.

The Selphid’s head bowed.

“I’m sorry. Damn it. I’m so sorry.”

She looked up, but—of course—

Ciorg didn’t even know her name.

 

——

 

Kevin Hall was having a terrible day. Just the worst. He couldn’t fathom how it got worse than this.

First, he hadn’t been able to sleep after healing up from last night’s, well, last night and that morning’s fight-for-his-life. Because of the itching.

All the skin he’d healed with that potion from the burns had itched like thunder because, and he’d never known this, the dead skin had gotten trapped with the fresh stuff! It happened with burns, and he’d tried in vain to undo the terrible itch until he’d gone to get help. A very bleary Octavia had had to walk him through a secondary healing where his body ejected the dead skin cells.

That was gross and cost him most of his sleep, even with Erin’s [Twofold Rest]. Then Lyonette had begun badgering him about where he’d been and why he and Rhaldon were sneaking around, nearly catching on to his plans. Even if Mrsha didn’t snitch, she was too perceptive.

And then—he’d stubbed his toe when he was walking down to breakfast. So hard it cracked until there was blood.

Oh, and over breakfast he’d gotten a letter from Dwarfhalls Rest saying they weren’t interested in custom metalwork jobs. Kevin had asked why and gotten a two-word reply from their Forgemaster.

‘Ball bearings.’

Fuck, he’d forgotten that Pelt had had him unload the worst jobs on the Dwarves! They probably thought it was another way to give them shit work! And he couldn’t just entrust this job to any [Smith]; no one could forge on the level of Pelt or Maughin!

Kevin was trying to rationalize using a drop, just a drop, of healing potion on his toe. He knew they had lots. Rhaldon appeared just as weary as he slumped into the inn. Though he seemed to have been genuinely productive. He was a smart guy; Kevin blinked as he produced three bottles, each with a different substance inside.

“I have three different prototype fuels, Kevin. If you can sort the engineering side, even if it’s just your shop—”

Kevin slapped a hand over Rhaldon’s mouth and hissed.

“Dude, I told you, quiet!”

This was his project. Well, Rhaldon’s, but Kevin had had the same idea. He didn’t need to make this a thing in the inn; he motioned Rhaldon aside as Lyonette emerged, wincing, and seated herself at the table. Her daughters helped her sit, and Rhaldon stared at Lyonette.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Cracked soul. C’mon, I’ll tell you later.”

“Cracked what?”

 

——

 

Rhaldon was shaking his head as they walked through the rains outside of the inn. It was, ironically, pretty safe as places went. Only the Antinium working on the new inn and Rheirgest’s [Necromancers] were around. Since no one knew where the inn was…no one came here.

Kevin had borrowed Erin’s sun umbrella, and it was awesome to stand under the sun as rain poured over the umbrella’s top. Lyonette had told him she’d gut him like a fish if he damaged or lost it, but a magical item had to be used, right?

Rhaldon broke the silence with his idea he’d come up with along with the fuel samples.

“Wooden prototypes.”

Kevin glanced at him, and Rhaldon elaborated.

“I understand this should be private and we’re having troubles with the [Smiths]. If Solar Cycles’ [Mechanics] can’t do what we need, then we make it out of wood. I’ve seen working wooden engines. Can’t we use Riverfarm’s [Carvers] and [Carpenters]?”

It wasn’t a bad idea, and Kevin mulled it over a few steps before shaking his head.

“No. Two reasons. One, none of my Skills work on wood. Second, it’s Riverfarm.”

“What’s wrong with Riverfarm? I was told that ‘Emperor Laken’ was one of us. I haven’t met him. Is, ah—is he as pretentious as the name indicates?”

“No…well, he’s certainly got an ego. I haven’t hung out with him much either. I just don’t trust him like I trust Erin and her people. This has to stay in-house, Rhaldon. It’s not going to be something the Unseen Empire can use, or Pallass.”

“That makes it so much harder, Kevin. Don’t we have to partner with some power eventually?”

Rhaldon’s comment made Kevin smile. He turned and pointed back at Liscor, barely visible in the rains.

“That’s the thing, Rhaldon. Erin had to do that. She worked with Ullsinoi, and Liscor and Pallass pushed her around, and she hated it, but she did it. Yeah, we could trust Laken. But you know, Ryoka trusted him with trebuchet designs. A few months later, Tyrion Veltras showed up at Liscor with a bunch of trebuchets from Laken’s place and nearly sieged the city.”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry, I didn’t know about that. Did he take the city?”

The [Chemist] turned pale; he didn’t know that lore. Kevin gave him an easy smile.

“No, they didn’t. But it cost a lot of lives. I wasn’t there either, by the way. All I’m saying is…Erin paid a huge price to get us here. We don’t need other powers. She’s the power, and I’m backing her.”

He led Rhaldon over the bridges, and the [Chemist] glanced at him.

“So I suppose the nobles of Izril are out? If we really need experts, Lord Calidus would help. He’s…eccentric, but genius.”

“Calidus? It rings a bell, but I dunno why. Last name?”

“Calidus Reinhart. He’s the smartest guy I’ve ever met. Between him and Zeomtoril, that [Polymath]—”

Kevin held up his hands urgently.

“Whoa, whoa. Reinhart? The only one I trust is Magnolia and only to make tea. I’d never share anything with him, Rhaldon.”

That felt like a generalization, and it annoyed the [Chemist] a bit; Kevin didn’t even know Calidus. But he was willing to agree that on principle, Calidus and Zeomtoril weren’t exactly high on the trust scale. Certainly, Calidus talked about his family like vipers…Rhaldon exhaled.

“So we’re without manufacturing?”

“I didn’t say that. No [Smith] north or south of here is gonna leap to help us without being overpaid or told what we’re working on. No…normal [Smiths], at any rate. I think we’ve gotta get more interesting. I’m just thinking how to get Rinli on board with this and how to move back and forth without being spotted. The door’s no good unless Liska can make a secret entrance…and spies can watch her. Plus, you might freak.”

“…About what?”

Kevin turned and gave Rhaldon a huge smile.

“Goblins. There’s one group who I’d trust with this and who can metalwork…just not at scale, maybe.”

“Goblins? As in the ones who fought 2nd Army?”

“Yep. That’s why I’m not sure. You and Rinli—let me tell you about Goblins, Rhaldon. You a fan of racism?”

Rhaldon gestured at his face.

“What do you think? I did also see the Goblin King and that Goblin Lord, though. Not exactly reassuring. She blew up a [King] and his entire palace. They’re still mourning and broadcasting the devastation in Terandria.”

“Aha. See, that makes them look a tiny bit bad. So let me tell you about the Goblins I know…”

 

——

 

When in doubt, Goblins. That was Kevin’s fallback plan, but it had a number of flaws. Including the fact that getting to Goblinhome, especially if it moved, was difficult.

Well, that and convincing Rhaldon to talk to them. The [Chemist] was highly sympathetic to the idea not all Goblins were monsters. But he was also allergic to putting himself in the crosshairs, which was also fair given Goblinhome’s publicity right now. And Kevin knew Rinli was on the level and knew about the inn, but an entire tribe of Rags’ people might be hard for her, let alone the others.

But if not Goblins, then who?

The two were walking some of the wooden bridges connecting the inn to the other hills. You could in theory get back to Liscor, but it was a maze of bridges from here, and Kevin knew sometimes they sank or got unmoored. He just took Rhaldon westwards towards a hill set along the mountains.

Rheirgest was ivory and stone. It looked cool as hell from afar, like some underworld village rising in the rains, and Rhaldon shivered.

“I forgot there were so many [Necromancers] here.”

Kevin was about to assure him they were chill when the young man added.

“I’m not into spooky stuff, but they have an amazing sense of style.”

The [Engineer] smiled.

“Rhaldon, it’s great to talk with someone else from Earth. Everyone else just gets scared. Want to visit real quick? They’re all kinds of friendly. Just don’t scream if a skeleton walks out to serve drinks, okay?”

“No promises.”

 

——

 

By the time they were walking around Rheirgest, something was bothering Rhaldon. He kept glancing around as Kevin tried to come up with ideas.

“Okay, Goblins are our first choice. Let’s say Rags shoots us down or we can’t make it work. Long-shot solutions. Either the Steelfur tribe in the Great Plains or Fetohep. Fetohep seems busy, but he’s got a kingdom. And the Steelfur Tribe is all trustworthy and knows about Earth. Rose has an in with them. You might have to travel back and forth, but…those are our best shots.”

“I’m…interested in going to the Meeting of Tribes. It’s a long route, and I’ve only done it once, but Termin says Drake lands are safer than the north in many ways, if I have the papers. I could apply for a passport today. Khelt is harder, of course. Are you suggesting we go to Chandrar?”

It was great that Rhaldon was on board with this. Kevin scratched his head, debating that himself as Rhaldon cast around. Being in the same continent as the King of Destruction…

I can’t stay at Erin’s inn forever. Maybe it was an idea? He had more for the future, but all that just to work on one of his plans seemed like too much. Damn. He felt like he was missing something or forgetting it!

The houses of bones all had that sort of, uh, ‘evil empire’ or ‘graverisen village’ appearance to them, but they were individually very unique. Some didn’t have much decoration, but the [Necromancers] could add little skulls to the houses or even carve screaming faces on the doormats—also made of little bones strung together—as they pleased.

Even Pisces didn’t have their fine manipulation owing to his self-taught knowledge. In fact, the Rheirgest villagers had adapted quite well to their new homes.

Rittane’s father, Dorkel, was drinking some coffee as he stared out of his porch at the rains and the floodwaters of Liscor. He nodded to another man who’d emerged from his house. This is how their conversation went as the two young Earthers stopped to listen:

“Likenost.”

“Dorkel. Morning.”

“It’s raining again.”

“Yup. Like yesterday. And every day for the last three months.”

The two [Necromancers] stared at the Floodplains. After a moment, one swatted at a glowing Acidfly buzzing near them.

“I wonder what we’ll do next year when there’s no construction work.”

“Fish, probably.”

“Yep.”

The two [Necromancers] gazed across the Floodplains of Liscor with the eyes of men contemplating a future in which you sat with a hook and line and occasionally pulled at it for twelve hours each day. Then Dorkel’s eyes brightened.

“I’ve been working on my latest fishing-undead. Here, take a look. I’m hoping to catch way more fish today.”

He snapped his fingers, and a skeleton strode out of his house. It was normal-sized, at least in theory, but he’d elongated its legs and blown out its ribcage as if it had been the most barrel-chested man in the world. Then—Dorkel had torn out the ribs and replaced them with dangling lines of skeletal hooks. The fishing-skeleton walked down towards the water and began to fire the hooks, where they sank; it could pull each line back in individually with clever little spools he’d worked into the back of its frame.

Likenost smiled.

“Good look, Dorkel. Is each one individually spooled? I can imagine you’ll catch a lot, but I’m after bigger game. Observe!”

He opened his doors, and a shark with four arms and legs crawled out. The skeleton of a huge fish had been given limbs to crawl towards the water, and Likenost pointed out the huge harpoon in its mouth.

“I present to you the Shark That Walks, version 3.5! It goes into the water and shoots whatever it wants.”

“Oh, I applaud! But it looks like it might be in danger of being attacked?”

“Always a hazard, I admit, but the repair costs in mana are worth it when it reels in a big fish. The only thing it can’t do are the Lurkersnatch ones or Rock Crabs; not enough torque.”

“Hmm. What if you put an anchor on it? Maybe with a bone-chain tail so it can anchor, then pull in…”

“Dorkel, you’re a genius. Do you have time for this? You’re not working, are you?”

“Nope, just the wife. And what she doesn’t know won’t kill her…”

They were hurrying down to the water past Kevin and Rhaldon as the two young men stared at the horrors of bones—and engineering. Kevin’s mouth was slightly open as he turned to Rhaldon.

“They’re so spooky, but it looks like fun, doesn’t it? I get the heebie-jeebies sometimes, but they are good people.”

Rhaldon was more impressed anyone could use the words ‘heebie-jeebies’ without turning into a Scooby Doo character. He nodded at Dorkel and Likenost.

“They can manipulate that bone without a problem, can’t they? And I’ve seen them doing fine work; I was there when they helped prototype the bone bicycles.”

“Oh, yeah. They are good at that. Have you seen Elosaith’s home? He does intricately fine work. He’s even got a clock he said he made out of bone for fun. Little gears and everything. Some of them are weirdos, though. Like Ama. I’m pretty sure one of the women has a bone ‘husband’…”

Kevin was rambling about the [Necromancers] when he finally caught onto what Rhaldon was thinking. He stopped, then blinked.

“Wait…no. Rhaldon, that would be crazy. That’s like an Erin-level idea, and I mean that in the most complimentary way.”

Rhaldon was smiling hesitantly. It was crazy. Structurally, it’d never hold up back on Earth…would it? He actually didn’t know. Steel was so much more superior, but if you had the time and energy, you could maybe make one that worked?

And structurally didn’t even count when you had magic here. He spoke out loud, thinking.

“It was never feasible back on Earth, but that’s simply because there’s no reason to work with a material like bone when metal or even wood is infinitely simpler—and easier to acquire. But why not? In fact, do we even need an engine?”

“What?”

“Do we need an engine? Or are we wrongheaded in how we’re thinking, Kevin? Think about it. Can an undead creation produce the same effect as an engine?”

“Dude. Dude…Pisces has his undead chariot. But you’re saying create an undead engine?”

Rhaldon spread his hands as his mind suddenly lit up, and he felt like a fool.

“The entire process of an engine is to convert fuel into movement. Is it even that efficient compared to, say, converting mana into movement? Is it possible to…of course it is! We have Golems and undead who walk around. A necromancy-powered engine doesn’t necessarily need pistons or the same cylinders. All it needs to do is move the vehicle. Am I wrong in my speculation?”

Kevin raised a finger, thinking hard.

“Bone’s still not as strong as metal! And it’s harder to enchant. Only pure metals take enchantments well. Anything else and it reduces. But—I know bones can get super tough depending on if it’s a magical creature. And some of the [Necromancers] can work on things in real-time. Look!”

They saw Dorkel and Likenost adjusting their skeletons with ease. Rhaldon whispered back.

“And they have a good understanding of how things work. They’re practically [Engineers]—of bone.”

“Dude. Are we doing this? Are we making…a Death Racer?”

Rhaldon scratched at his head.

“I was going to say a Bone Car. Undead Chariot? Animated Vehicle?”

They looked at each other and chorused.

“Skelecar!”

Then they ran down the hill towards Dorkel and Likenost. The two [Necromancers] jumped, and Dorkel searched around for his wife. But when they heard what Kevin and Rhaldon had to say…Dorkel rose with great dignity and put his hands behind his back.

“So you’re saying you have some kind of engineering problem much like the world-famous bicycles that we would have to make out of bone?”

“That requires multiple forms, possibly in a competitive spirit wherein the best and most efficient one would be crowned champion?”

Likenost added, stroking his chin. Kevin put his hands together somberly, like a priest giving a benediction.

“Plus, we’ll pay you in gold. And, uh, we do it in the inn with free drinks and food?”

The two men thought about it, and then looked around furtively. Dorkel leaned over.

“Me and my wife do fine work. With Likenost, we could be exclusive on this job—”

The other man was nodding rapidly. Right up until a window flew open and another [Necromancer] wearing a bone mask pointed dramatically.

“Not without me! They’re doing something interesting! Elosaith! Elosaaaaaiith—”

Then every [Necromancer] in Rheirgest was appearing to get a piece of the project. Master Elosaith himself poked his head out of his bone-mansion, beaming.

“Ah, good. I was beginning to get bored.”

Kevin gulped as he fumbled at his side for a speaking stone.

“Rinli? Hey, yeah, uh—we’re going to need a second shop. A big one. Can you come over, please? We just found our manufacturing. Yeah—no, no, no Goblins today. You don’t need a gift basket. Wait, you had a gift basket? Bring that with you. Tell me, Rinli. How…do you feel about skeletons?”

 

——

 

When Jelaqua Ivirith slumped into The Wandering Inn, she found no Kevin or Rhaldon. When she was directed to Rheirgest, she found the two young men talking excitedly in the rain with about fifty [Necromancers] who were practically founding a new warehouse on the spot.

“Factory! Fac-to-ry! And it’s secret. Top secret, got it? Good thing no one comes here. I want this all under wraps! No one says a word, and uh, we make this village even more unappealing!”

“So we scatter poop on the ground or something?”

A skeptical [Necromancer] asked. Kevin waved his hands.

“No, just more undead! More decorations! Heads on pikes! Anything so no one comes here but us. And anti-scrying spells, the works! Top secret—oh, hey, Jelaqua.”

Kevin was shouting as Rhaldon just stared at a three-dimensional replica of his sketches rising before his eyes.

“Oh my…you can just make it?”

An old grandmother was grinning as she flicked her fingers over the ivory shaping itself to her will.

“Sure can, sonny! Even put on some decorative spikes and death’s heads, just to make it look better.”

“Maybe don’t do that on the engine block, but when it comes to the chassis, you can go nuts. Can you make it move?”

“You mean animate it? Kid, I could make your great granddad dance a 5-step!”

Jelaqua stopped as Kevin turned to her.

“Jelaqua, look! We’re making the cars! This is going to be crazy! Necromancy meets industry! Necro-engineering! Necroneering!”

“Terrible name. Hey, Kevin, so…looks like you don’t need Pelt? You good?”

“Better than good! Listen, with the [Necromancers], we can prototype everything! Plus they’re [Mages] so they can do a lot of enchanting with their bones that Hedault can’t because he’s one guy—”

Jelaqua cut Kevin off as he began to spell out exactly how phenomenal and world-changing this was. And she was sure it would be.

“Great, great. And you’re not murdering yourself fighting monsters solo, yet?”

Kevin hesitated. Jelaqua was rather distracted; she kept glancing back at the inn and at her feet.

“No…actually, I’d love those lessons, but Elosaith says I can fight their undead any time I want. For, uh, free.”

“Always love to see a kid bare-knuckle one of our skeletons. You last five rounds, we buy you drinks!”

The old grandmother cheerfully spoke up. Jelaqua slapped Kevin on the back. He fell on his face from the impact.

“Ow.”

“Great. Oops, sorry about that Kevin. I’m just gonna…hey, how’d you heal yourself from those blast burns? Do you have any spare potions at Solar Cycles?”

“Uh…spare potions? Jelaqua, oh, right, you don’t know. We have tons. You want some, go ask Dalimont. Super secret, but yeah, we could hook you up.”

“Really, tons? Perfect. Right. I’ll just go there and…you sure you’re okay?”

Jelaqua turned back as Kevin picked himself up. He nodded.

“You sure you’re okay, Jelaqua?”

She pointed blankly at her face.

“Who, me? Never better. I’ve got nothing to do anyways. Except this one thing. Be right back…”

She walked off, and Kevin stared at her. Rhaldon glanced up from talking with the [Necromancers].

“Jelaqua’s off. Is this another Solstice event, Kevin? Octavia claims you can predict them, but I’m jumpy.”

Kevin massaged at his shoulder. She’d nearly dislocated it again.

“Dude…I think it is. An Ivirith event. Wait, that’s terrible. Whatever. We’d better put in a warning with Lyonette back at the inn. Did you see her face?”

“Um. It was normal?”

“Yeah. She never not grins or smiles. It’s freaking me the fuck out.”

Kevin hopped down to hurry after Jelaqua, then turned. He stared at the village, which was still growing, and scratched at his head.

“Y’know what’d be awesome? If we’re making cars, we should also do forklifts.”

“That’s just a bigger skeleton, Kevin.”

It was true; the [Necromancers] were all interested in Kevin and Rhaldon’s proposals, especially if it meant new, fun work, but the old granny did cock an eye at them.

“What’s this new stuff do that our undead can’t, lads? If it’s speed you want, well, they used to chase you down and bounty you for riding a carriage down the road with undead horses, but that Pisces fellow is bringing it back in style. Makes me wish I were young again! What’s this ‘car’ got that an undead horse doesn’t?”

Kevin scratched at his chin.

“The ability to hit a hundred miles per hour in, like, ten seconds? The ability to carry dozens and dozens of people at once?”

The old woman grinned and spat.

“Pshaw! A good [Necromancer] can do both! I’ve seen both. So let me ask you again, what’s the value?”

To that, Kevin just smiled as Rhaldon hesitated, and the [Mechanic] brushed at his hair.

“The value is that only a Level 60 [Necromancer] can probably make those undead. But we’re from Earth. We’ve got no levels. So we know how to build things better. The difference is that even a Level 20 [Necromancer] can build what we want.”

“With a lot of engineering and prototyping.”

Rhaldon muttered, but the villagers were eyeing each other. And the old woman was laughing.

“I wanted to make a Bone Giant before I died! Sign me up, boys! Show me a vision of death I ain’t ever dreamed of before!”

Her eyes glowed green as she leaned on a staff of bones which clicked, like a second spine rooting in the ground. Rhaldon swallowed, and Kevin grinned like a man watching something move into motion. He whispered.

“Okay. My turn, Erin. It’s a Kevin Hall moment. A Hallmark—fuck.”

He gave up and decided to run after Jelaqua.

 

——

 

It turned out the inn had tons of healing potions. Another world. Jelaqua didn’t even blink as Ser Dalimont handed her several.

“Of course for you we can procure some. Do you need six, perhaps? Between you and Maughin…”

“Forty, thanks.”

The Thronebearer hesitated.

“But you’re not adventuring…?”

The question dangled in the air, and Jelaqua absently opened her bag of holding.

“Nope. Forty will do. I might need sixty—how many do you have?”

“Quite a lot, but forty would be—”

“A great start. Thanks.”

She watched him pouring the healing potions into the bag of holding. It occurred to Ser Dalimont, of course, that he could ask questions or refuse. He peered at Jelaqua Ivirith, Captain of the Halfseekers of Izril, and filled her bag. She looked so absent.

Lost in thought.

 

——

 

“Excuse me, can I ask what the Health and Safety Act is?”

Jelaqua Ivirith stopped at a booth in Pallass’ heart on the 6th Floor, where the Assembly of Crafts and a number of helpful booths existed. Like a [Scribe], who looked up from where they normally took complaints or requests from citizens and forwarded them to the right senators.

“The, uh, Health and Safety Act, Miss?”

“Yeah, you know, just what it says.”

The Drake stared down at his ink-spattered hand and scrubbed absently at the dots.

“…Which one, Miss?”

Damn. That was the thing about gathering intelligence. Sometimes you didn’t know what kind of monster it was, and when you just said ‘magical bird’, the person with the bestiary eyed you as if you were stupid.

Still, Jelaqua Ivirith was a patient woman. She smiled.

“One that pertains to laws about housing for, uh, Scorchlings?”

“Miss, there are hundreds of Health and Safety Acts on the record.”

“Oh, I’m just searching for ones that are active and would prevent me from switching residences if I wanted to. Can you dig it up for me?”

The [Scribe] glanced at the queue behind Jelaqua. It wasn’t long, but he coughed.

“Miss—”

“Captain Ivirith, Gold-rank Adventurer.”

“Oh, um, Captain, is this a matter that pertains to adventuring? Because if it’s not…”

“No, it is.”

The [Scribe] hesitated.

“It—it is?”

Jelaqua smiled faintly, and she leaned on the counter.

“I’m Jelaqua Ivirith of the Halfseekers of Izril. We have Scorchlings on our team, now and then, and if there’s a Health and Safety Act that pertains to obtaining residency in Pallass, I have to know. Otherwise, I’ll just go ahead with what I was planning and let them know I was approved by Scribe…is that Jilins or Jillin?”

She made a show of reading his badge. The [Scribe] rolled back in his chair and gave her his best smile.

“Let me just get my supervisor, Captain Jelaqua. I’m sure we can look this up—”

 

——

 

Health and Safety Act KM 344. They’d copied out the entire thing for her, but the summary that Jelaqua had gotten from the helpful [Scribe] and his manager was more simple than the wordy little piece.

It was a provision about nine hundred years old—so barely any time at all—that restricted housing for ‘persons suffering from magical or medical ailment in nature that is disruptive to the Public Order or Decency’. With those two latter terms capitalized.

The long and short of it was that without a full form approved by the district [Senator] of your area, you were not allowed to just live in any residence—and the same went for anyone who wanted to rent to you.

Getting said form filled out was not easy either. The two Drakes had no idea how you’d actually go about submitting it, but they did know the intake fee and wait times for such things to get past a [Senator]’s busy desk.

Well, that answered her questions. It was also, incidentally, a stupid law. Just the kind of thing the Assembly of Crafts might pass to rid certain districts of undesirable sights…Jelaqua was reading up on the law in a history book from the library.

Oh, it was passed in a flurry of laws that all but prohibited Scorchlings from military service? When, in fact, there were laws six thousand years on the book that almost did the opposite and had granted Sootling-only zones on the 5th Floor that had been erased as part of the legislation nine hundred years ago.

But six thousand years ago…that was Creler Wars legislation. Stamped in blood.

“Huh. Someone back then understood what Sootlings are.”

Jelaqua closed the book she was reading. She had arrived at her destination anyways.

Just as she’d thought, the Uplifting Wings orphanage was a hangout spot for older ‘graduates’. The moment she walked into the courtyard, Jelaqua was challenged—a good sign. But the staff member recognized her.

“Oh, Captain Ivirith! Lady Melika would love to speak to you—I, ah, would you wait in her office?”

They looked rather flustered, and Jelaqua peered at the group of young people who were all staring at her like she had horns growing out of her head. She waved at Ophala and got one back—the Drake girl she was peering at was trying to pretend she wasn’t there.

“Sure thing. Hey, Anama, good to see you’re alive! Keeping out of trouble? No fights?”

The girl jumped as Jelaqua shouted, and the staff member tried to rush her inside.

“Captain, if you’ll just come this way…”

 

——

 

Melika Blackwing flew down in a flurry and appeared slightly off-kilter after last night. She might have cured the hangover, but the wild night remained—and she hadn’t even seen the Raskghar.

“Captain Ivirith, I’m so glad to see you’re well. I am very glad you and General Shirka were there, and that you were, um—uh—discreet? Thank you for not involving the Watch, and I did enjoy our talks.”

“Captain Ivirith? What are we, strangers, Melika? I was just coming by to ask some questions, you know? I was thinking after our talk, and I’d like to know some things.”

The Garuda nodded, trying to smile, but she was fiddling with a quill. Then she burst out with it.

“Uh—Captain Ivirith, I’d be delighted to answer questions! However, just so we are clear, ahem, very clear…I must formally withdraw my standing invitation to you to come as a guest to the orphanage. I am very, very sorry for what happened last night. Rest assured, it will not happen again! And I hope you will let the matter rest? Especially regarding Anama?”

She gave Jelaqua a pleading expression. The Selphid was smiling, not with her infectious grin, but a calmer smile, almost absent.

“She came and told you about my chat, huh? Her gang would have done something to her if I hadn’t stepped in. Chopped her up, maybe. There used to be [Alchemists] that took Oldblood Drake organs. They are reagents.”

“T-they are? I’ve never heard of that. How horrific!”

Melika went pale. Jelaqua shrugged, gazing out the window.

“They all vanished about twelve years back. At least, in Izril. Anama looks colder now. Though she’s still picking fights.”

The Drake girl was pushing around some of the younger Scorchlings, clearly mad—until she glanced up, saw Jelaqua, and flinched. Melika took a breath.

“Captain, can I answer your pressing questions? Then I’d be delighted to talk later? I think everything has been settled and there’s no need to go any further, grateful and sorry as we all are. Please?”

She gave the Selphid another pleading look. Jelaqua swivelled her attention to Melika.

“I can do that. I only came to get intelligence. Ophala’s the good girl around here, right? Helps out?”

“Ophala? Yes, of course! She’s wonderful, and she even gives some coin back to the orphanage and the others, though I keep telling her to save it for herself.”

“Aha, she runs with…Merry and Consillir, right?”

“That’s right. They’re the best of friends. Why are you asking…?”

The Selphid stared at the ceiling.

“Hmm. I can’t tell what kind of gang they’re part of. Which is weird. I’d assume they’d have some kind of sign, but normally it’s a tattoo or even a brand. Might be where I can’t see it. Do you know which one?”

“Captain Ivirith! Jelaqua! Ophala, in a gang? She’s a brilliant young [Tailor]!”

Melika was astonished, then outraged! She stood up, feathers ruffling, and Jelaqua sniffed.

“Dyes. And scars.”

“What?”

“Tanning dye smells strong. Even if it was just leatherworking, you’d expect someone without feathers to have needle scars on their hands. Even the best [Tailors] get them as they level. Nevermind that, it was sort of an aside. Who does your potions? You know, the stuff that mitigates all the Sootlings’ conditions?”

The Garuda woman was having trouble following the thread of Jelaqua’s questions, but that was okay, Jelaqua was doing just fine. She clacked her beak open and closed a few times as she sat back down.

“I don’t know where you got that misapprehension around Ophala, but I assure you, she’s never had a single incident with the Watch! It’s a record at the orphanage!”

“Not once, not ever? People love calling the Watch on anyone who looks wrong. How’d she dodge that all her life?”

Melika frowned and began to appear uncertain, but Jelaqua pressed her.

“Who does your potions?”

“This is confidential—oh, fine! Alchemist Xif provides the most important potions. Now and then, Alchemist Saliss comes by to provide the most elusive tonics. He is a very generous donor, though his cousin, Onieva, drops everything off. We can’t have nudity here! Aside from that, we mostly purchase what we need, though it is difficult…there are precious few specialists in Oldblood conditions, even in Pallass! We had a dedicated expert, but he passed away last year.”

“Really? Who?”

Melika rubbed at one eye as she glanced at Jelaqua suspiciously.

“Mage Isceil from Wistram Academy. He came through one of Pallass’ orphanages—so did General Shirka, come to that. Which is private, and I shouldn’t be telling you—! Why do you want to know, Jelaqua?”

Isceil. Where did she know that name? Jelaqua closed her eyes, and it came to her. Curry to the face. Ah, of course.

Damn, it was a small world after all. She nodded to herself.

“And he was the best and only Oldblood specialist in Pallass?”

“Fissival is where he lived, but he always came through here on his way south. And yes, he was one of the only ones who isn’t training young nobility in how to use their Dragonbreath and who doesn’t charge extortionate fees! Amplifying Dragonbreath or flight time is the focus, not mitigation.”

She stopped and visibly had to catch herself. This entire time, Melika had been avoiding looking at Jelaqua. She ground her beak together unhappily, then looked directly at the Selphid.

“Jelaqua, please, you’re putting me in a hard situation. I must formally ask you to stay away from Uplifting Wings and the children. I appreciate what you did for the children, but—this was not the way to handle it.”

No response. Melika clenched one claw around a quill and then went on abruptly.

“And—I have to believe you knew about that ambush last night! At the time, I was unsure how it happened, but in hindsight, it seems obvious you were prepared. Couldn’t you have called the Watch or simply…avoided them? This could all have been smoothed over! Instead, you put half a dozen children in the [Healer]’s! I know what Anama did, but did you have to threaten her?”

Jelaqua had been staring at the ceiling while Melika grew angrier and angrier. She blinked, then looked Melika in the eyes.

“I didn’t threaten her.”

“You didn’t? But she said—”

“I told her if she had tried to mug you I’d have put her on the floor. Oh, and not to badmouth my team.”

“Captain Ivirith, that’s a threat! You fought a gang! There were a dozen ways to avoid it coming to the worst outcome and it seems to me you ignored them all!”

Now Melika was angry. She half-rose, and Jelaqua sat up a bit. She fixed Melika with a stern look of her own.

“I didn’t threaten Anama, Melika. Threats never work. ‘Specially not on kids. Same with running them off or even having the Watch arrest them. They were a gang ready to beat me down and mug me on Anama’s say-so. Or you. Did Anama even tell you what I saved her from? She might not know—but I do. Should I let them run around in their little fantasy, thinking they can jump a Gold-ranker, or just let a gang keep operating?”

Melika hesitated, suddenly on the back-wing and not sure how that had happened.

“No, but the Watch—”

“The Watch is a wonderful tool in some cities. I don’t trust ‘em. Your kid was making stupid mistakes. You said so last night.”

“So the answer is violence?”

Melika’s voice rose, and Jelaqua raised her brows as the door opened and the assistant looked in uncertainly. The Garuda blushed, but Jelaqua just stood up.

“Talking didn’t seem to work for however many years you’ve tried it. Just an observation. Right, thanks for the info. Back to Liscor. Montressa.”

She saluted Melika with two fingers. The Garuda lady waited for an explanation, her mouth open. Jelaqua Ivirith just strode out the door. Melika nearly shouted at her back. Then she turned to her assistant as he stared at her.

“Who’s Montressa?”

 

——

 

It was very simple, really. All she was doing was gathering the bits and pieces she hadn’t picked up on. Seeing how the terrain lay. It wasn’t anything big. She promised.

“I don’t have a lot of time, and I’m not overcommitting. I’m just asking normal questions. You know? It’s not that hard, and it’s no time out of my day. Really, it’s about supply and demand. Turns out the inn has lots of healing potions. That’s always useful. And why not ask about a specialist, you know?”

Jelaqua explained herself to Valeterisa and Montressa. The two were staring at each other over a three-dimensional magical diagram of an academy in their rooms. After a moment, Valeterisa whispered.

“Apprentice, did I miss the opening to this conversation?”

“No, Master.”

“Ah, good. I worried I had erased those memories by accident.”

Then the Archmage of Izril put on her best customer-smile for Jelaqua.

“Hello, Miss Ivirith, I am a very busy Archmage of Izril who is normally not disturbed by anyone due to my rank. I am hard at work on Miss Lyonette’s detoxification spells and containment ones, so if this is about that…”

“Isceil.”

Montressa blinked as Jelaqua spoke the Drake’s name. The Selphid put her hands in her pockets and gazed at Montressa.

“Isceil, right? D’you know if he left any of his potions or recipes for dealing with Oldblood ailments? Scorchlings specifically, but there’s all kinds. Anything would do.”

The name kicked Montressa like one of Rhaldon’s horses. She sat down.

“Isceil? Why are you…”

“There’s some Scorchlings at the orphanage where he used to go to volunteer. Without him, I think they’re not as well-supplied. Even Xif and Saliss wouldn’t necessarily be brewing specialist medicine for them.”

Both Valeterisa and Montressa knew what Scorchlings were, which spoke to their experience both in Drake society and as [Mages]. Valeterisa covered her mouth with a hand.

“Oh. I anticipate something cripplingly sad. Just like Relc said, you can see it. Lalalalalala—apprentice, I leave this to you. I shall be back in fifteen minutes. Lalalalalala—”

She flew out a window, which you had to admire. Valeterisa was quickly becoming a regular of the inn. Jelaqua nodded to her with a smile.

“Okay, how about it?”

Montressa was less composed. She wiped at her eyes.

“I’m—oh, that’s painful. Maybe I need Mrsha’s [Healer] they’re looking for too. Potions? His supplies? We gave all that to his family, Jelaqua. I’m sorry. I didn’t keep his textbooks, and all his spells for Oldblood phenomena would be somewhere in Fissival. Why? Is someone badly sick?”

She seemed worried, then relieved as Jelaqua shook her head.

“Nah, just asking if there was some convenient medicine or…something. It’s worth a shot in Erin’s inn, right? Damn. Valeterisa wouldn’t know about some way to cure Scorchling afflictions, would she?”

The [Apprentice] cast around.

“I could ask. [Locate Master]—Master, come inside! Jelaqua has a question, and you’re getting wet!”

She cracked open the window, and Valeterisa ducked down from where she was hovering just under the window’s ledge. When the Archmage came inside, she confirmed that no, she had no special cure.

“Even [Restoration] is, um, unfeasible. Very ironically and sadly given the plans for Tenbault—I mean, um…not-Tenbault. I did research the ailments when I was in Fissival, but they are all specialized and unique. No common magical cause or root method of curation.”

Jelaqua smiled and came out of her focused state for a second.

“What led you to study Scorchling maladies?”

The Archmage of Izril glanced around and hesitated.

“I was, um, dating.”

“Ah.”

Valeterisa had the same attitude a lot of Drakes raised in Drake society did—which was that Scorchlings were Drakes hit with terrible luck. Instead of the positives, you got the negatives, and it was uncomfortable, not something you talked about. Hopefully not something you had to see. Reactions ranged from sympathy to disgust. Even in the ‘best’ cases, the people who saw Scorchlings were surprised and dismayed by the poor individuals.

And that, of course…hurt. Jelaqua Ivirith pushed herself up with a sigh.

“Thank you for your time, you two. I guess that you can’t ask for pure miracles. And you two are the best.”

Montressa and Valeterisa glanced at each other, and both were thinking two names: Demsleth and Taletevirion. Montressa coughed into her fist.

“If, uh, if you wait, we could see about more magical consultation, Jelaqua?”

The Selphid waved it off.

“No, no. I’m searching for something like what Kevin’s doing. Mass cures, not miracles for one. Miracles run out real fast, see? Healing potions used to be as many as you could buy. I know which one I’d trust.”

She produced a little vial glowing bright red and twirled it on a finger. The Selphid heaved a sigh.

“I was just checking, because you know, Solsticisms. It’s fine, thanks. There’s only one way I know of to treat Sootlings, and it works! Just takes longer than magic.”

She twiddled her fingers, and the two [Mages] nodded. Valeterisa put a finger to her temple with a frown, but Jelaqua was striding off in moments. Now, where was the best place…? They could do it wherever, but hadn’t Grimalkin said he had something new? That’d work!

“What do you think that was about, Master? Jelaqua never acts like that normally.”

Montressa frowned at Jelaqua’s back. Her instincts as a Secret Broker were tingling. Archmage Valeterisa’s eyes narrowed.

“I do not know. There is no treatment for Scorchling Syndrome. Not one in modern history and certainly not broadly applicable across the condition. Apprentice! Investigate!”

She clapped her hands. Montressa eyed her. After a moment, Valeterisa coughed.

“Please?”

 

——

 

The Last Light of Baleros! Jelaqua was walking down from the 8th Floor when she snapped her fingers. That was a great option!

But she doubted that the Last Light knew Drakes if she was based in Baleros, and besides, Jelaqua could always write a letter. She’d do it tonight. She was almost down to the 4th Floor when she slapped her forehead.

“I’ll forget my own head next. Apartment!”

 

——

 

Landlord Inmal’s apartment was not hard to find. Jelaqua had no idea where it was, and they didn’t exactly write their names on the buildings—in most cases—but the Landlord’s Guild in Pallass had a directory.

“Oh, you don’t want to live there, Miss!”

The horrified [Receptionist] assured Jelaqua. They were standing in the bare-bones entry section where people could queue up to issue complaints or find housing—past the [Receptionists] working the desks, there was a guard and the guild proper. Jelaqua could just see a carpet down a posh corridor into a lounge as she stepped back.

“Don’t worry, I’m just checking it out. Bad neighborhood?”

The Gnoll woman looked around and then whispered.

“No, not the worst, but—it’s more of the folk living there? I doubt you could pay the same price, either! I could find you far better accommodations for cheaper.”

Ah, that made sense on two levels. Jelaqua waved at the dismayed woman and walked off.

 

——

 

Ironically, the Dullahans’ apartment block was on the very same floor that Scorchlings had once lost their designated zones for. 5th Floor—just not in the center, but on the very ‘edges’ near the place where Pallass’ walls rose. Corner-sections were never well-liked because they were the most enclosed and cramped-feeling. Also, no elevators ran in these areas, just staircases, so traffic was harder. They were subsequently the lowest-income.

Landlord Inmal’s place wasn’t a dump. There were two narrow concrete blocks of small apartments overlooking an entry courtyard barred by a simple fence—easily jumpable, and Jelaqua noticed the lock was a plain padlock she could snap with two fingers.

But there was fresher paint on the building, someone had polished the number—295 Brasswing Way—and Jelaqua suspected Melika and her charity ensured there were things like the hedges that grew along one wall. But the stairs leading up to the individual units had cracks in them that were probably foundation-deep, and the entire place had the air of somewhere that wasn’t kept up, just maintained until it could no longer be inhabited.

Liscor had had places like that too. Much of it was being reconstructed, but it was familiar to Jelaqua; a lot of her team had lived in places like this. Visiting family for good—or the final bad news—conjured to mind this sort of spot.

The well in the central courtyard was a hand-pump well, which spoke to Pallass’ nature as City of Inventions. But the water didn’t run. One sniff as she pried open the top of the rusted well with a squeal of disused metal made Jelaqua grimace.

“Mold. Could be fine…”

She took an experimental nibble, and her Selphid body analyzed it.

“Well, it’s not going to kill you, but it’s not what I’d let grow. Probably just as well the tap’s dry.”

Without it, the kids would have to go a lot further for water for their cooking and washwater—and that was a lot worse than private plumbing, which you’d get in more modern buildings. Jelaqua saw a few of the wooden shutters open and faces peek down at her. She waved, and they closed—yep.

Kids, mostly. Twenties or younger. She bet that if you got older you might find a place to settle down and move out or move to another city, another floor.

If you made it.

No guesses where Anama lived; the shutters were scorched, and Jelaqua bet that if there were fire alarm spells, they had to be disabled. Captain Zevara was a functional Oldblood, for all of her breathing problems and choking on her own breath. Scorchlings with heat breath problems sometimes just breathed smoke nonstop.

None of this depressed Jelaqua unduly or surprised her. She’d seen worse. Quite a lot worse. She strolled up to one of the windows and knocked.

“Heya, Jelaqua Ivirith, Gold-rank Captain. I know Melika.”

“Y-you do? No one here owes money!”

A nervous voice from within. Jelaqua smiled at the shutters.

“Nah, I’m not that sort. Do you get any [Debt Collectors] coming by? Gangs? Fellows or gals who’re creeping, watching, anything of that sort?”

There was a silence from within. Then the voice grew suspicious.

“Are you the Watch?”

“Who, me? I can’t even watch the scrying orb. I’m asking on behalf of a friend.”

“Which friend?”

“Me.”

The silence grew more confused as the person within weighed the odds of answering truthfully with the consequences before replying.

“The only gang that comes around here is Anama’s. Sometimes we get…people, but it’s fine. Safe. Please, go away? This is a private residence.”

Jelaqua slapped the shutters cheerfully, and someone gasped.

“Not so long as that fence is busted. Get many [Thieves]?”

“Who’s got anything to steal?”

The voice followed her as she walked off. Jelaqua nodded to herself.

“Right then. I think I have my plan of action. First stop? Where would I be if I was some Drake who’d just lost her gang and needed a place to hide out from the big, scary Selphid?”

She tilted her head.

 

——

 

Uplifting Wings orphanage went quiet when Jelaqua Ivirith appeared this time. A member of staff started.

“Captain, I’m so sorry, but Melika isn’t here right now. We’re going to have to ask you to leave—most of the children are at school, and we’re cleaning.”

Jelaqua cheerfully gave the Drake a thumbs-up.

“Oh, no problem! I’m just here to get one of your kids. The ones with lots of free time, including Miss Ophala. Hey! How’s the tailoring going?”

The Garuda jumped, and the small group hanging around the courtyard gave Jelaqua that uncertain stare. It intensified as she crossed onto the grass—it was the stare of someone reminding you that you were doing something socially unacceptable if not, possibly, illegal.

Gold-rank Adventurers got [Immunity: Social Awkwardness] as a default. Or at least [Greater Resistance]. Jelaqua saw the young Garuda jump and wave a gloved hand at her.

“Um, hello, Miss Ivirith—I was just—I think you’re not supposed to be here?”

Jelaqua seized her hand and admired the gloves.

“Lovely stitching on these! Nevermind, I take it back; that’s professional gear right there.”

She winked at the Garuda, whose face went from uncertainty to a mask, then let go. Jelaqua reached out and put her arm around someone.

“And here’s the girl I needed to see. Anama!”

To her credit, the Drake didn’t flinch or cry out when Jelaqua nabbed her. Bravery was something that grew in the light and with other people.

“I’m not scared of you! I haven’t done anything—get off!”

She tried to push Jelaqua’s arms away, and the Selphid walked her towards the gates.

“Miss Ivirith, I’m going to have to call our security—”

She ignored the Drake lady.

“None of the Flameblades give you grief? No threats, no bad looks?”

Everyone listened as Anama hesitated.

“N-no! I don’t even know where they are, and I didn’t search for them, alright? Now leave me alone, please?”

Her voice cracked on that note, and Jelaqua felt at her forehead. Anama tried to bite her hand, but the Selphid just yanked it back.

“You’re a lot cooler. Good.”

“I have icerune cloth, idiot. Let go. Hey, help—”

“Icepacks are only local for burns. You took a bath or you’d be too hot. Shame you don’t have one in your apartment.”

“I’ve got everything I need! Shower’n all! Where are you trying to take me? I’ll yell for the Watch! You can’t prove I did anything to you!”

Jelaqua Ivirith grinned at Anama as she halted.

“I’m not kidnapping you! I’m just coming by to work on your Oldblood heat problems. I know Melika’s worried, but I swear on my team, dead and alive—it’s just to make you stop heating up so much.”

Hope was a pernicious thing. As nervous as Anama was, and all the staff were with their concerns, when Jelaqua said that, Ophala, Merry, Consillir, and every young person and kid in earshot turned. Especially the other Scorchlings.

“Y-you what?”

Anama’s eyes widened, and Jelaqua gestured to herself. She smiled, and that faint glow of glory shone in her orange eyes. She spoke slowly.

“I am Captain of the Halfseekers of Izril. I bet Melika never knew, but we’ve had seven Scorchlings in our team. Half died fighting monsters. The other half? Retired. Three are still alive, and all of my teammates were over thirty years old. Achevv, he’d be pushing fifty now. Dead gods!”

She rolled her eyes, sighing. Anama was gazing at her, and Jelaqua knew she understood the numbers. Scorchlings were lucky to hit thirty years old…

The Selphid spoke nothing but the truth.

“We have a secret way to mitigate most Scorchling problems. Heck, even some other conditions. I guarantee it works. Might take me a few tries, but I’m offering it since I’ve got nothing but free time in my retirement. Want to try? You can always back out.”

She rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder, which was feverish in any normal person. Anama licked her lips and hesitated. The staff were whispering, and one was probably already sending a Street Runner to Melika, but the kids gazed at Jelaqua, hoping for a miracle.

She didn’t have one. But she did have a treatment. After a moment, Anama snarled.

“If this is a trick, I’ll burn you like—like—!”

“Like a Scorchling. C’mon, kid. I know just the place.”

 

——

 

Grimalkin’s Gymnasium actually had a signboard now. Well, it was technically Magus Grimalkin’s Training Gymnasium, but no one was calling it that.

A huge workout area and what looked like a pool was being built, and Jelaqua read a flyer that said House Ulta was making the exact same thing. Why a pool?

Well, why a boxing ring? She’d seen plenty of places where [Fistfighters] hung out, little sacred circles of rope where blood and guts were put on the line, but this had much thicker ropes and a padded mat.

She supposed to stop you from getting hurt. And the padded gloves were nice. Yeah, she could see the value.

“Why’re we here? We’re not allowed in here!”

Most people weren’t, but Jelaqua Ivirith knew Grimalkin, and the [Apprentice] at the door waved her in without asking for a ‘pass’. Dead gods, everything was changing too fast.

Jelaqua was an old creature. She glanced around as she saw the kids following her and getting stopped by the surprised [Apprentice].

“They’re with me. They can watch if they want to. This is a good spot. We need somewhere semi-private. And Grimalkin’s got good equipment and space.”

Anama was frowning at the Selphid.

“You’re teaching me an exercise? What, breathing? I know how to do that! I’ve had everyone from [Oldblood Trainers] to some old man come in and lecture us about breathing.”

Jelaqua shook her head.

“Breathing won’t help. Especially not you. Your problem is your body’s heat. You can’t regulate it; I suppose you could breathe the heat out or exhale enough Dragonbreath to stop generating it, but I don’t know how to teach that.”

“That’s what he said. But I can’t breathe like that.”

The young Scorchling woman muttered. She gazed around as Jelaqua glanced at the boxing ring. She supposed Grimalkin was still teaching how it worked; without him, it was lying empty, though she saw plenty of red padded gloves and even headgear and padding hanging up on fresh racks.

“The ring will do. C’mon up. I’ll use the gloves; you don’t need ‘em. Headgear might be nice.”

The girl was getting more suspicious by the second, but she had come this far, and sunk cost was another thing that murdered adventurers along with hope. She snatched a headpiece for Drakes and hesitated before putting it on.

“I’ll just burn it up. You paying for that?”

“It’s all enchanted against heat, but—do you know what you’re doing, Adventurer Ivirith? Magus Grimalkin did say he had an invitation to you, but he’ll be back in fifteen minutes…”

The [Apprentice] at the desk was wavering, and Jelaqua winked at him.

“Don’t worry, I have no idea how this works, but I know what I’m doing.”

“Er, that’s not reassuring—”

She was already hopping into the ring, and Anama climbed up. She looked silly in her headgear, and a few titters from the younger people made her flush.

“Either tell me what I’m learning or stop yanking me around! I’m going home if this doesn’t pay off!”

Jelaqua turned to face her, mashing her fists into her gloves. They really were nice. The Selphid smiled at Anama.

“Don’t worry, it’ll work. Might take a few tries, but I reckon you’ve only got the patience for the one. Just one, no, two questions and we’ll get started. Firstly, what’s your highest-level combat class? My guess is…[Ganger]. [Thug]? [Fighter]? You’re not over Level 10, I know that for a fact.”

The young woman turned red.

“Why d’you care?”

“I’ve got to know. Come on, which is it?”

The Gold-rank adventurer was pressing down on Anama now. She wasn’t that tall in her Human body, but she seemed to fill the ring however big it was. The Drake was heating up in the headgear, and she gasped a reply. If this helped…

“[T-Thug]. Level 6, alright? It’s not serious. You’re allowed to have that class, and it’s not a crime!”

Jelaqua Ivirith laughed softly.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. The Watch still puts you on a list, you know.”

“They do? Well, what’s yours?”

The Selphid smiled.

“[Steelforged Whirlwind], Level 38. I know, I know. Pretty low. I’m a Level 13 [Loving Wife], though. Turns out protecting your man gets you levels.”

Anama’s jaw dropped. Jelaqua’s lesser class was double hers, and it didn’t surprise Jelaqua.

The only way you get classes normally is either by profession or hobby. A kid like her has trouble finding any job. But even in a gang, she can’t level hard. She’ll injure herself in a fight, and she’s vulnerable—and Scorchlings heal slower because they’re already fighting their bodies.

“You’re probably a higher-level [Survivor], though. Lower than 20, probably. And if you have a class like [Breather], or what was Halassia’s…? [Spewer]? It’s not high.”

She was guessing all three of Anama’s classes. The Drake was glaring now.

“Well, if you’re so smart, fix it! Fix me! C’mon!”

“Okay, I’ll try. Last question—I know you overheat and you’re getting heat sores. You don’t have fragile bones, do you? My guess is not, but I need to check. Problems breathing when you choke on smoke—that’s fine. Any organ problems? Aside from just your stomach or vitals overloading and malfunctioning.”

Anama shook her head, eyes now locked on Jelaqua as the Selphid hopped up and down.

“No. What’re you…what am I doing? Stretching? Learning a move or something?”

The Selphid smiled as she mashed the gloves together, and it made a great slamming sound.

“Nope! Here’s the plan. I hit you as hard as I can. There’s no way out of the ring except through me. Land a punch and you get to go. But I am going to hit you like good old Mort. Unless you fight. C’mon, [Thug].”

She beckoned, and Anama’s eyes went wide. That sneaking suspicion she’d had? The tiny little voice that said, ‘maybe this is a trap to get back at you?’ It was obviously a lie because they were in public and Melika would call the Watch and she could have done it yesterday…

Turns out that voice was right. She smiled, trying to deny it, and backed up.

“That’s not funny. Back off! We’ve got witness—”

She went for the ropes, and Jelaqua blurred around her. Anama recoiled.

“Stop it! I said I’m s—”

Jelaqua didn’t hear the rest. She swung a fist, hard as she could, and knew she’d chosen the good gloves, the ones with the most softness and magic in them.

She figured she broke two of the girl’s ribs.

Anama folded up with a cry, and there was an exclamation of horror from the watchers. But she didn’t fully fall; Jelaqua was holding her up.

“Remember, you’ve got to hit me.”

Possibly the words only reached Anama after the punches landed. Jelaqua leapt back from the cross of punches and circled. She lunged in, and Anama ducked, face white. She screeched as her broken ribs struggled with her burnt skin.

“Stop! Help, help, she’s crazy!”

“C’mon, kid. Throw a punch.”

Punching a leg didn’t usually hurt given how thick the leg bone was and the odd angle, but Jelaqua was a Level 38 [Warrior] in a Selphid’s body. Anama stumbled, and then she did take a wild swing at Jelaqua.

“I d—”

The Selphid countered, moved behind Anama, and hit her in the back. The Drake girl turned, and her arm locked with Jelaqua’s as both punched—the Selphid’s arm swept hers back, and she hit the mat. Anama lay there, making a faint sound, and Jelaqua thought she’d broken her tail landing on it.

“Potion.”

She poured one over Anama. It showered onto the Drake and mat as someone shouted.

“Adventurer Ivirith, stop! What are you—”

The [Apprentice] stared at the costly potion being used on Anama. Even for broken bones—! Anama gasped as her ribs snapped back into place. She hadn’t ever been hurt that bad before—at least, not in a fight. She began to sit up and flinched.

“You’ve got five seconds before I hit you when you’re down. And then you’ll bounce. C’mon, I have a lot of potions, and you don’t have all day. Four, three…”

She rose and screamed and tried to swing at Jelaqua. The Selphid’s hands blurred, and the girl dropped. Now, someone was shouting at her to stop.

“Captain, don’t hit her! She’s sorry!”

Ophala was wide-eyed as she cupped her hands to her beak. Some of the other young folk were shouting too—some for the Watch. Jelaqua turned; the [Apprentice] was getting into the ring.

“This is untoward. I’m putting a stop to—”

Her punch popped the Drake off the ring and onto the floor. He rolled as he fell and didn’t crack his tail, a sign he was Grimalkin’s apprentice. Jelaqua turned.

“Told you. C’mon. Swing faster.”

Anama was drooling a bit of blood, and she didn’t say anything this time. A baseline instinct had kicked in where your mouth shut up and you moved to survive because you knew there was no talking your way out of this.

It was the correct instinct, but it was still too slow. Jelaqua’s fists were a blur as she crossed the ring. This time, Anama’s body hit the ropes, and the [Apprentice] who’d thought he just had boring gymnasium desk duty saw the Selphid perform the first off-the-ropes punch in the world’s history as Anama came back towards him.

He knew fighting. She was not pulling her punches like the Sinew Magus did. She wasn’t going for a vital where she could kill the girl, and she poured another potion as the Scorchling sagged, but this—

This time, the [Apprentice] tried a spell and drew his wand as he empowered his legs to jump into the ring. Jelaqua kicked him so fast he didn’t see it coming. When he aimed a wand at her, she hit him with an empty potion vial so hard his head snapped back into the floor.

The [Apprentice] made a judgement call. He whirled and ran, shouting for the Sinew Magus and his peers. It wasn’t far to get them. It took only four minutes, in fact, for Grimalkin to emerge from his mansion where he and Lady Pryde had been busy planning gymnasiums.

Four minutes was a long time.

 

——

 

When Magus Grimalkin burst into the gymnasium in only his robes, he saw nearly a dozen of his apprentices trying to hold Jelaqua Ivirith back. Far more on the floor or trying to climb into the ring, but the Selphid had already halted.

“Good punch, kid.”

A Drake girl dropped onto the mat. Not slumped, not collapsed. Just dropped. Grimalkin pointed.

“[Air Cushion]—”

Jelaqua caught Anama’s head and shook off her other boxing glove. It was partly exploded from the force. Grimalkin noted it as he saw a larger amount of visitors than normal. Young people—Scorchlings? He blinked at Ophala and her friends and several members of staff—and a [Guardswoman] from Pallass’ Watch.

“Ivirith! What—”

She waved at him and knelt.

“Hmm. She’s out. Won’t be long now. I think that was four levels. Hey, Grimalkin, sorry I had to rough up your apprentices.”

He stared at the panting apprentices. This was a new group of his students, so they weren’t as strong as Ferkr or his graduates, but they’d built plenty of muscle under his new programs—from their dazed expressions, she’d kept moving with all their weight and strength trying to hold her.

I must show them what high-level means. Not just strength, but this.

The Sinew Magus had lesser instincts, ones that did not hesitate to tell him to put her in a binding spell or shout or demand answers. His analytical mind told him he had the answers. So he observed.

He noted Anama’s condition, the startlement of the others, Jelaqua Ivirith’s empty vials and the stains on the mat. The Selphid herself and her team…and his mind snapped to a conclusion like it had regarding Erin Solstice’s nature.

This time, he hoped he was right.

“Counterlevelling? There must be a more merciful way to do it.”

The horrified staff and Melika herself, who’d burst into the gymnasium, pale-faced, turned. His apprentices glanced up, and Jelaqua Ivirith smiled. A dead woman smiling at him with that strange being inside who knew more of the body than he did.

“Doesn’t work as well if they know what’s coming. It barely works if I avoid hitting them hard as I can. But you can pee hard enough to level under Level 10. I saw it happen once.”

“That’s most likely apocryphal and down to some other event.”

“Nope. Kidney stone. I’ll tell you the full story sometime.”

“Ah, I withdraw my objections. Pryde, it’s not what it seems. No emergency, well, at least none that requires physical intervention.”

Grimalkin turned as a more-dressed [Lady] came striding into the gymnasium. Lady Pryde had her bag on her head and her tracksuit for decency’s sake; Grimalkin swished his bathrobe around himself more for the same. She sounded disappointed as she sighed.

“So Captain Ivirith isn’t beating a teenage girl to death with her bare hands?”

“No, she is. Just in service of counterlevelling.”

“Oh, excellent. My father used to do that with my brothers. He never could do it with me.”

It was funny how the three of them spoke. They were not ignorant to the voices around them, demanding clarification, asking what that meant, telling Jelaqua she was under arrest and to step away from the girl—but the three spoke in a world of their own.

As if they were the only ones that mattered, which was not Magus Grimalkin’s opinion at all. It was just that they understood this. Communication was only the most efficient between them, a regrettable truth.

Jelaqua faced down her audience without regret, only a guilt he could see in her eyes and smile. Hitting a girl with Sootling Syndrome hard enough to counterlevel her and need six potions…

That was a Gold-rank adventurer for you. He murmured.

“Was it necessary? You could surely effect the same with a week’s training.”

“Maybe, but she’s a kid. Plus, she’s a [Thug]. I doubt I could motivate her to give me a glass of water. I’m surprised you don’t do the same, Grimalkin. This is the most efficient thing, and there is only one cure for being a Sootling in this world. It’s crazy, but here it is.”

A [Mage] in the crowd with red hair went ‘oh’ and began to write a report for her master. Grimalkin exhaled. He agreed, actually. This was the most efficient; it was just that he’d calculated the trauma and culture it brought on would lead to deaths and injury to an extent he could not rationalize mass-producing. Plus, without healing potions or similar aids, it was highly infeasible. But the truth was the truth.

“Levels.”

 

——

 

On Earth, Jelaqua wondered what you would do. She knew the things she would do, but one of the keys, the foundation of her world, was levels.

Levels, the reward for suffering or hard work. Without them…would people try as hard? They were the ultimate balancer, but they did not bring equality to people. A Scorchling lived a far harder life than Melika, or even Jelaqua, but they didn’t hit Level 30 automatically or even Level 20. Or even Level 10, sometimes.

Jelaqua had no idea how the calculation worked. But she did know this. If someone stood up and threw hands with a Level 38 [Warrior] who was coming at them with all the force she had—and they threw a punch with all the desperation they had left—that was worth at least two levels unless they were over Level 20.

Try. She sat there as Grimalkin gave a more lengthy explanation to his audience, and Melika flapped into the ring. She shielded Anama from Jelaqua as the Selphid gently checked the girl’s vitals.

“She’s healed.”

“Stay away from her, Jelaqua! Officer, I’m filing a complaint! Officer—”

The [Guardswoman] gazed at Jelaqua. What was she going to do, move the Selphid? An entire class of students hadn’t been able to keep hold of her. And Jelaqua was waiting, waiting…

Now.

When Anama gasped and sat up, a plume of heat and sparks shooting from her mouth, the Selphid saw it. Barely, a faint steadiness to her movements, less of a flinch from her own heat—

Level 10 was not very high, but for a [Thug] class, and whatever levels she’d gotten in [Survivor], it was still a capstone.

Funny thing about levels when it came to Sootlings. They didn’t come for free or even easily. But when you levelled as someone who needed something, like the ability to survive your own heat, your own body—the voice always gave you what you needed.

If you hit a capstone. Not everything; it was never perfect, but Jelaqua nodded.

“[Lesser Fire Resistance]. Or was it…[Body: Regulate Temperature]?”

Melika turned to her, and Anama felt at herself. She flinched away from Jelaqua, then gasped.

“[Fireproof Scales]. You—you—”

“Oooh. Nice. It won’t keep you from baking, but you’ll get a new coat of ‘em. Congrats! You’ve got scales now! Want a potion?”

Then again, it had probably regrown her scales decently under the ash; once she washed, she’d keep her scales. Or maybe they’d have to properly regrow now that they wouldn’t turn to ash? Jelaqua was interested.

“Stay back! Magus, help me! She’s assaulted one of my wards—my charity, even if she is an adult—Captain, you’ve gone far too far!”

Jelaqua blinked and remembered Melika was there. Aw, darn. She was so upset. The Selphid wondered if she’d lost a friend forever. She stretched.

“I’ve gone far enough with Anama. Hitting Level 20 is going to be harder, kid. Might have to do [Survivor] there, but it’s tricky. Hey, anyone else?”

She turned to her audience, especially the Sootlings, who blinked at her as the Selphid gestured around.

“C’mon. If you’re over 15, hop in this ring and it’ll hurt. More than anything you’ve ever felt, but it works. Don’t worry about our audience. They can’t stop me.”

She smiled gently at them but wasn’t surprised when none of them ran forwards. They had to see Anama getting better—and Melika was shouting at them to get away.

The [Socialite] whirled her wrath on Grimalkin as Jelaqua sighed and stripped off her gloves.

“Magus, why didn’t you stop her? Anama, you need a [Healer] and—and I wish to file a complaint, officer! All your apprentices here and no one did something?”

She shrieked at the students, who appeared abashed, but the Sinew Magus lifted a finger.

“With great respect, Lady Melika, and as a [Magus] granted permission for such spells by Pallass, please, [Calm] for a second. Don’t begrudge my students.”

Melika blinked as he gestured at Jelaqua, who was stretching her back and sighing. The Sinew Magus spoke in his lecturing tone of voice to his class.

“I see I have erred in my assumptions regarding this boxing ring that Lady Pryde’s subject informed her of. Its utility is unquestionable. However, Selphids and perhaps Dullahans and other species…no, Selphids will not benefit the same way nor be equal opponents. With padded gloves, in a ring? I would not go up against Miss Ivirith, Lady Melika. Nor would I put any money on anyone else in this room being able to stop her.”

Everyone turned to Jelaqua, and they studied her. A Selphid in a dead body—impossible to concuss. Impossible to stop, even if you hit her as hard as you could with a padded glove. Able to Rampage…now, Melika gave Jelaqua an appropriate look, and Grimalkin felt bad for the Selphid as she grinned ruefully.

After a moment, though, his pontifications and his grand theorems on the state of the world were surprised, as they always were, by her. Lady Pryde Ulta glanced at Grimalkin, then picked up a pair of training gloves strewn on the ground.

“An interesting statement, Grimalkin. I find myself compelled to test it. Selphid, stay in the ring.”

She rose, the paper bag with eyeholes on her head gleaming faintly purple as Jelaqua Ivirith turned. Grimalkin felt his heart surge with disbelief and affection at the very stupid move as Lady Pryde slammed her gloves together.

 

——

 

Eight minutes later, Grimalkin put a cold compress on Lady Pryde’s stomach. The [Lady of Pride]’s ego barrier was completely blown out, and so her voice was very soft and much less confident—for various reasons.

“That…might have been a mistake.”

“Yes, but I quite admired it.”

He kissed her hand as some of the Drakes watching turned away, but his eyes were only for her. Jelaqua Ivirith just smiled as she flipped the busted gloves onto a hook and strolled out of his gymnasium.

They arrested her, of course, but Grimalkin put in a good word for Jelaqua, and she walked free rather fast—after he and Lady Pryde had a personal moment. Wonderful term, that.

 

——

 

Maughin met Jelaqua outside of the Watch House, deeply disturbed. A few Dullahans were watching her, but Jelaqua felt calm. Good. And free, a fact that surprised him greatly.

“Jelaqua, I was informed you’d been arrested—”

“Detained for questioning. Melika lodged a complaint, but I sorted it out.”

“Wh—how? What happened?”

“I beat a kid up until she counterlevelled and capstoned. C’mon, I’ll walk with you. You didn’t take time out of your day, did you?”

She gave him an abbreviated tale as Maughin’s mouth opened and closed, but she was carrying his head, then, and they were on the move.

“We’re almost finished drafting our plan, and we have the support of Senator Errif, who wishes to combat the Wistram-focus. The Engineering Guild has work! We owe it to, er, Lord Werdin Blackwing.”

“Ooh. I feel bad about that now. Had to be done. I’ll be busy tomorrow too, Maughy. Don’t worry; I know what I’m doing.”

He knew she did, but the [Smith] kept staring back at the Watch House.

“I don’t understand. You did attack the girl despite her asking you not to? With witnesses? How did you walk out of there without an arrest? Unless she dropped them?”

“Nope. It was all Melika. I walked out because it was Watch Captain Qissa in there.”

He stared blankly at her, and Jelaqua elaborated.

“From last night? I also mentioned Zemize.”

“Oh. Oh. Is that…?”

“That’s Gold-rankers for you. Plus, we’re on her floor. I checked the day list.”

She winked at him. The [Smith] was entirely taken aback, and he gazed at Jelaqua as she speed-walked them back to their home.

The flames of glory were still blazing there, perhaps even higher than before. The Selphid lingered, gazing into them; they were the only things she had eyes for. The stares of other Dullahans, even the censure of the Watch and Melika…when Maughin turned the door, she blinked at him.

He was sooty from a day of work, and he’d had to jog to keep up with her. Maughin rumbled as his gleaming mithril-alloy armor moved with his body, and he bent down so his head was at a level with hers.

“Jelaqua, I fear you’re harming your reputation in Pallass. I understand, of course, but I’m concerned. That girl you fought…”

The Selphid avoided looking at him and brushed at her hair.

“Eh, I feel worst about Melika. But don’t worry, Maughin. I feel great. When are you putting your proposal before Senator Errif? Tomorrow? Perfect. I’ve gotta write a letter, and I think I can whip up dinner…I think Melika’s too freaked out right now, and Anama’s going to have to process her levels, so leftovers and snuggles it is! I’ve got a new body…though I don’t think that’s one for intimacy. What else? Uh—uh, Ishkr. He likes to watch this kind of stuff. And I’d better—no, I can start at the bakery and then—”

She was speaking faster and faster. Lost in a world of her own. Something haunting her, perhaps—until Maughin clapped his hands together. The armored fingers made a sound like the clash of metal, and the Selphid jumped.

She had a hand on her flail when she saw Maughin moving into the kitchen. Jelaqua blinked, then rushed after him.

“Wait, Maughy, sorry, I forgot dinner! I’ll cook! I have [Swift Errand]; it won’t take me a minute to—”

“Jelaqua Ivirith, sit.”

He pointed a finger at her, and she froze. Maughin’s voice was impassive, like Dullahans got when they were angry or upset. Fear replaced her racing mind. Was she upsetting him? She’d made them look bad in front of so many. She began to panic—then worried as the panic died down.

She had to do this. But she feared what that meant for…

The Dullahan stopped inspecting their rune-cooled fridge and nodded.

“We have ingredients for dinner.”

“I’ll just—”

“Sit. I will make the food.”

She sat, but that was a kind of agony as Maughin moved around the kitchen, laying out the ingredients he needed like he was at his forge, consulting his mother’s cookbook, setting a pot to boil.

“Maughin, I know it sounds and looks bad, but I—”

“No, Jelaqua. Please. One step at a time.”

He was chopping vegetables and glanced up at her. She hesitated.

“If you’re mad at me, please don’t go silent. Let’s talk—”

“I’m not angry, Jelaqua.”

“Then let me—”

“It’s my turn to cook. You are clearly busy.”

Jelaqua laughed.

“Me? Busy? I just went out and did a few things. You were at the forge—”

“And now we are equally busy. Thus, it is my turn. I have enjoyed doing few chores while you were unoccupied. That moment has changed. You will sit, please. I insist. I am no [Husband]. But perhaps it is my turn to earn the class.”

That surprised Jelaqua so much she remained seated, mouth open.

“Maughy. What’s…?”

He carefully put the green bell peppers into a bowl and then looked up at her.

“I cannot follow the chain of events that led you to the Watch House, nor your plans for tomorrow without seeing the steps, Jelaqua. Please, lay them out for me.”

They…weren’t fighting about her actions today? Jelaqua was confused. Maughin didn’t even bring up the Watch House. Just—

Oh. He was waiting, going through the steps of his recipe like he would the stages of forging metal. Like that—he cleared his throat.

“You do have a plan, don’t you? Have you written it down?”

“Me? Bah, I’ve got it here—hey!”

He’d found a piece of chalk and handed it to her along with a little slate blackboard he used for taking notes, then washed his hands and went back to cooking.

“I’m not as gifted as you are, Jelaqua. But as your husband, I must ask that you lay it out for me. We are a team of sorts. Not your Halfseekers. I would never claim to be them. But if I do not know the plan, how can I support you?”

He gazed at her, and she sat on their couch and realized he really hadn’t known anything of what was going on until he heard about the fight and arrest.

But he wasn’t bringing that up. He was…trusting her. And just asking her to spell it out for him so he could back her. Her hand trembled on the piece of chalk, and her body’s throat was dry.

“I…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my plan, Maughin. I was worried you’d stop me or freak out—”

He smiled as he began to mince some beef up.

“I did not marry a Gold-ranked adventurer because I thought it would be a quiet life, Jelaqua. I have been waiting to see what you would do next. If I wanted a wife who only cooked, cleaned, and listened to my woes, I would have married my mother’s many, many candidates. I fell in love with you because I wanted to forge you armor that would not break the next time you faced a monster.”

His smile slipped.

“I failed.”

“M-Maughin. No, you didn’t—”

He shook his head as he continued to work, head sitting on the counter, looking at her.

“It is improper for me to take even an ounce of your grief with my foolish thoughts. But it is right that I, as your husband, ask you what you’re doing and support you. A [Smith] prides himself on his craft, but also those who are worthy of it. In you, I found someone who exceeded the limits of my craft.”

He shook his head as she sat there.

“My mother and father asked me, the day before we wed, if I had been tricked by you. As if it were not the other way around. Forgive them, Jelaqua, if they earn it. But please, tell me your plans. How else will I smile when I see them realized?”

He gave her that shy expression then, of someone gazing at a valuable ingot of metal—the most valuable thing he’d ever laid eyes on. The one thing he could not forge nor would ever sell. And she remembered why she’d liked him.

The Selphid blushed pure orange as she fumbled her chalk pencil.

“You—you big softy! You could scold me or, I dunno, paddle my rear or something! I did get arrested!”

“I do not mix the bedroom with the kitchen.”

That drew a full laugh from Jelaqua. She smiled, then, like the mysterious Gold-ranker he had been charmed by, someone who had gone far beyond the limits of his imagination and yet seemed to find him a worthy adventure.

Then, as he waited for food to cook, he sat, and she sat on his lap and began to write down her plans. Maughin listened, his body getting up to work, making her lay it out like the steps of a forge. Nodding along, and she smiled as she felt the ideas in her head crystalizing as well.

A relief to a fear she’d kept inside of her. That he was unwilling to tolerate her actions or, worse, they might get bored of each other. Instead, she realized he’d just been waiting, that patient, sneaking Dullahan.

 

[Loving Wife Level 14!]

[Skill – Lover: Buffed Boots, Buffed Speed Obtained!]

 

[Dutiful Husband Class Obtained!]

[Dutiful Husband Level 3!]

[Skill – Lover: Perfect-fit Armor Obtained!]

[Synergy Skill – Lover’s Embrace: Rhythm of Steel Obtained!]

[Skill – Locate Lover Obtained!]

[Skill – Lesser Resistance: Bludgeoning Obtained!]

 

They both woke up, exclaimed, and hugged in the night before going back to sleep. They had a big day ahead of them.

Privately, though…that last one was a bit of a relief to Maughin. Jelaqua really didn’t know her own strength.

 

——

 

Jelaqua Ivirith visited her least favorite place in the entire world. Her second-least favorite being probably the Demon Lands in Rhir or something.

Steelforged Loaves, the bakery run by Maughin’s parents, was already serving early-morning customers, and Mordol was in the back. Milden shot Jelaqua a warning look when she came in, but it was the blank-faced woman with her head in a basket who made eye-contact with Jelaqua.

Vhiren, Maughin’s mother, made no gesture of greeting or acknowledgement, which was a slap in the face. But Jelaqua’s body was dead, and she’d punched out Lady Pryde yesterday. She could take a hit, and today, she was all business.

“Good morning, Miss Vhiren! No bread for me today. Well, maybe a croissant. Have you seen Landlord Inmal?”

The woman pulled a warm croissant out of the trays on display and spoke flatly.

“We have heard about last night, Adventurer Ivirith. Who is this [Landlord]? It is not appropriate that you should think you can find any Dullahan in this store because it is run by other Dullahans.”

“Oh, that’s me. Racist as Innkeeper Erin. Don’t worry, I only beat up Scorchlings and kids who’re dying and neglected. Someone’s got to.”

Jelaqua’s voice was too loud and cheerful in the bakery. The other Dullahans were studiously ignoring them, but she bet their ears would be a-waggling if they were half-Elves or Goblins. Vhiren refused Jelaqua’s coins stiffly.

“You are family.”

“Thank you so much.”

Jelaqua bowed to Vhiren and turned, polite as could be. The [Baker] hesitated and then called out when Jelaqua was halfway toward the door.

“Out of curiosity, if we did run into him—why are you looking for Landlord Inmal?”

Jelaqua pivoted, a smile on her face.

“Oh, that’s personal. He knows what he did. I’ll find him one way or another. Good thing it wasn’t here. Walls look fragile. Not termites, just—unenchanted. Plus, you’re family.”

As ominous statements went, that one made all the Dullahans actually turn. Vhiren’s mouth stayed open, and then her daughter, Linteca, poked her head out of the back where she was getting breakfast. All the Dullahans began to whisper.

Who was this Inmal and why was Jelaqua searching for him? After a moment, Vhiren sent her daughter out of her shop to ask a question from someone else she knew in the community.

 

——

 

Jelaqua Ivirith hummed as she strolled across Pallass. Along the way, she ran into people, because it was such a lovely day.

“Captain Ivirith, we’re from the Landlord’s Guild. Were you by any chance looking for a certain member of ours? I hope we can resolve anything agreeably…?”

“Just looking for a word. Don’t worry, it’s between us. He knows what he did.”

“I, uh, I remind you that all tenants are securely locked within their contracts, adjudicated by our Guild! And that the Watch is involved in any serious altercations—”

“Thank you! I’m not worried. I’m best friends with Watch Captain Qissa, General Shirka, Secret Agent Zemize—and the inn. The Wandering Inn.”

Such pleasant conversations.

“Jelaqua Ivirith, you’re pushing your luck. Invoking my name is not wise, and you’re a wise woman. What are you doing?”

“You tell me, Zemize. Papers, please.”

“…Your knowledge of certain events does not guarantee you immunity from Pallass’ laws.”

“I’m well aware. Catch me breaking any? Aside from yesterday, I’m not breaking any laws today.”

“If you cause trouble, well-intentioned or not—”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you were good at your job. Whoops! Messed up your clothing there. You were saying, Agent?”

And then, of course the classic—

“Hey, Jelaqua.”

“Ishkr! You rogue, what are you doing, shopping?”

“Nope. Kevin and Grimalkin called in. They said you were ‘up to something’, and Lyonette sent me to investigate. Are you?”

“Sure am.”

“Heh. Need backup?”

“You know…could you get Silveran for me? You could watch if you want. I’m just headed to see my darling husband, Maughin!”

And then they were all in Senator Errif’s office! The Gnoll was one of Pallass’ major players in the Assembly of Crafts, and with a flourish, he produced a stamp.

“I am pleased, very pleased to approve this forge for the 9th Floor! And the expansion of the Smithing District to enable such a momentous project. I trust it will be soundproofed, and the Engineer’s Guild will spring into action! Spring into it, I say! That will show these Wistram-loving fools.”

He beamed as Maughin smiled and glanced at Ishkr, and all the [Aides] clearly wondered who he was. But the [Smith] proffered the contract for Errif to sign, and the Gnoll stamped it with a flourish. Then he blinked at the second piece of parchment.

“This one too, thanks Errif!”

“Oh, of course. Damn, there’s always two pieces of—wait a second, this isn’t the forge paperwork.”

Jelaqua beamed at the [Senator] over the table.

“Nope! Actually, I’m not sure whose district it is. But while we’re here—”

Maughin and everyone else in the room turned to Jelaqua. Ishkr was just grinning as the [Senator] fished out some spectacles and read.

“Hold on. This is a housing permit for…that’s not my district. I can’t approve this! And why are you—?”

Jelaqua leaned back in her chair.

“Whose district would this be? Let’s get it signed, Errif. It’s not a difficult permit.”

“No, but—this is highly irregular, Miss Ivirith. You should go through the proper channels for this. Why don’t I forward it to our system and—”

The Selphid’s voice grew louder as she sat in her chair.

“What? You don’t want to help the neglected children of Uplifting Wings? Senator, how could you!”

He blinked and protested.

“Miss Ivirith, don’t be upset. I respect your rank, of course, but—er, well, it’s just that I’d approve this, of course! It’s just a permit, but these things have to go in order!”

“So you won’t sign this paperwork for the orphans of the charity, Uplifting Wings? The one you gave money to just the other day?”

Amazingly, her voice got louder though her tone didn’t actually increase in intensity. It must be a Selphid trick; Errif glanced out his open office door.

“Miss Ivirith, I can see you’re upset, but this—”

“It’s just a housing permit for the poor children of Pallass without homes, Senator Errif. For Uplifting Wings—”

One of the [Aides], with excellent political instincts, was trying to close the door to Errif’s office. But wouldn’t you know it—Ishkr’s foot was in the way.

Amazing how that happened. She winked at him as he grinned. No wonder he was Erin’s best employee.

And it was also amazing how Errif could get tired of explaining at increasing volumes why this simple paperwork he’d be happy to sign, and had no problem with on paper, suddenly was able to get to the right desk, and a very surprised [Senator] reviewed and stamped it in no time. Jelaqua paid a fee, and that was that.

Paperwork and bureaucracy? So easy to do, so efficient! She thanked both [Senators], who had fingers in their ears and a mild case of deafness. They glared at her as Maughin tried to shove her outside.

He was scolding her loudly, of course, as he pushed her outside. Highly scandalized…Maughin only stopped and gave her a wink after they were outside. Then he kissed her and wished her good luck. After begging her publicly to not kill any [Landlords].

Now why would people think she was doing that?

 

——

 

Jelaqua Ivirith stood outside Landlord Inmal’s personal residence.

Menacingly.

Well, that’s what he claimed when the Watch officer came by. She explained she was just politely waiting for a business opportunity and hadn’t known if he’d be in. If you couldn’t wait to talk to someone, what a world they lived in, eh?

The Dullahan wasn’t even that old. He was twenty years younger than she was and glared at her as the Watch officer stood by as a witness for their polite street discussion.

“I don’t know what you claim I’ve done to you, but if this is some tactic to threaten me, I have witnesses!”

“Landlord, I’d never threaten you! I am looking to buy one of your apartments at a reasonable rate—”

“Aha! The answer is no! You can’t threaten me!”

The Gold-rank adventurer nodded, keeping her smile on her face.

“Indeed I cannot. Well, that’s that, then. Good day to you! Officer, as you can see, I am now leaving, and I do not need to speak to this fine Dullahan again. You can accompany me to my next building if you’d like. I have another very simple business deal to partake in, and the buyer is already agreed.”

Inmal felt triumphant right until he heard the rest of what she was saying and squinted at her.

“What buyer?”

“None of your business.”

“I know what you’re trying to do—steal the Sootlings! You can’t rent to them! Even if I sold to you, I’m the only [Landlord] on the 5th that has a permit!”

“Well, one of two now.”

She showed him her permit, and he paled.

“You think you can steal my tenants?”

“Not at all. We’re just going to compete like friendly owners of real estate. I’m sure you’ll win them over with your long-term relationship and appeal, but I might get one or two, and that’s business, isn’t it?”

The Dullahan’s mouth worked. He turned to the Watch officer.

“This is a threat! She’s pressuring me!”

“With a Skill, sir? I don’t see one active. Legally, I’d have to check, but I think this is above-board.”

The officer was admiring the shiny bike that a Gnoll had parked as he listened to this meeting. Ishkr rang the bell as Jelaqua turned back to Inmal.

“There’s nothing to worry about, [Landlord]. There is no threat I could make aside from honest competition. You’ve done nothing wrong—unless you were failing to upkeep your property in accordance with Pallassian Housing Law Edict 31 on the subject of working sanitation and well access. But someone would have filed a complaint about that! And you wouldn’t be in trouble unless you hadn’t fixed the well for over two months. But who wouldn’t file a complaint with the Watch until now?”

She had to lean on his shoulder as she laughed about that. Then Jelaqua patted the suddenly very-still Dullahan on the shoulder.

“They’d have to be terrified of the consequences not to! Funny thing about crimes. They don’t go away if you wait. Well, some actually do, but socially it’s a bad look. And the funny thing about consequences is that you should fear them—until they go away.”

She smiled and turned to the Watch officer.

“Alright, I’m ready to buy that new apartment complex. Unless [Landlord] Inmal has something to say?”

She turned, and at this point, she rather suspected he wished she’d punched him.

 

——

 

Being a [Landlord] sucked, anyways. Jelaqua didn’t need the class, but she stamped the paperwork and then slapped her forehead.

“You didn’t actually bring Silveran here, Ishkr? Because that would be a real Erin move, and we’re not having that today, are we?”

He smiled and chuckled as Jelaqua grabbed a bunch of tools he’d thoughtfully brought over.

“Not at all. Silveran does hire other employees. How does a Human and Gnoll duo sound? Both over Level 30.”

“Dead gods. Level 30 [Cleaners]? What is Silveran cleaning over there?”

“Everything.”

The duo wearing Silveran’s Cleaners uniforms were waiting for Jelaqua when she met them at the apartment complex. The Selphid shook their hands. Male and female—she had to ask.

“How’d you level that fast?”

“Well, we were both Level 20 when Silveran scouted us. It was join him or be swept over by the broom of change.”

“The mop of modernity.”

“The brush of Antinium working too damn hard to keep up with! Plus, he guarantees us a good hourly wage. We serve three cities now, and Pallass is a good test ground, he says. Mind if we take notes on how hard it is?”

“Sure thing! And I owe Silveran a big tip; let me just talk to the tenants. We’ll avoid anyone inside until we have word—you know how to clear a well?”

The [Cleaners] nodded.

“We have a lot of classes that synergize with our main one. You’re in luck; Minty Mithy here is a [Plumbing Cleaner]. Amazing how often you have to unclog piping in a house. I’m a [Pest Cleaner].”

“Awfully broad class, [Cleaner].”

“As broad as the horizons Silveran intends to polish clean with the, uh…Mithy?”

“The dustrag of the future?”

“Ooh, I like that.”

They were a riot. Plus, with Ishkr around, their classes were even more powerful. It still didn’t quite explain how they’d levelled as fast as active-duty adventurers, though. However, Jelaqua heard Ishkr talking to them.

“I’m Ishkr, from the inn. If you two ever wanted to come by for a meal, consider yourselves on the guest list.”

“Oh. Ohhh! The inn! I can’t believe I forgot where it was! Handy trick, that. Silveran remembered, but the rest of us—so you’re Ishkr. I gotta say, I wanted to meet you. We think we level fast, but you…you’re a legend in the service industry.”

“I’m not that special. I’m just levelling to survive at the inn. May I ask how you two breached Level 30 in a year?”

Simon, or rather, ‘Scourge Simon’ as he was known, laughed easily.

“Hard work. You haven’t seen Silveran’s Cleaners taking on the Hard Jobs, have you?”

“I can’t say I have. We’ve had his cleaners in the inn before, and Silveran himself does a lot of cleanup after disasters…what kind of ‘hard jobs’ are these?”

“The ones no [Cleaner] did or was called on, my friend. That’s the Silveran way. Not just painstaking deep cleans or getting the best in the business—he does that. If you can’t keep up with an Antinium Worker who loves, loves to clean, you can find another business. We don’t cut corners, and he’s charging a high price.”

“Really? Most Antinium don’t know to do that. Then again, most sell to each other…”

Minty Mithy was unpacking an enchanted broom.

“Silveran’s kind as a puppy. It’s when he gets the mustache that he negotiates like a [Merchant]. Hard Jobs are where he made a name for himself. We go in and we clean out, well…bad spots. The kind where you’d rather toss a [Fireball] than touch anything.”

Simon had lost his smile.

“Hard spots, hard situations. Not just someone passing and leaving all the things they hoarded. There’s more to it than just wiping water away. You have conversations with people. Rough ones, but Silveran took the lead. He cleans a spot and comes back sometimes to make sure it stays cleaned. That’s a Hard Job. Not like we take them on all the time. To be honest, I’m glad this doesn’t sound as hard as some.”

Now, Ishkr was nodding. Simon scratched at his head, remembering.

“We’ve gone into Esthelm’s sewers when Bronze-ranks refused because of the smell and blockages. I remember what a third of the staff said, don’t you, Mithy? ‘That’s not a [Cleaner]’s job!’ To which Silveran said they could stay behind. He was levelling. Cue him beating down a Toileteater Pig with a broom.”

Ah, there it was. Jelaqua grinned as she finished getting the rusted cover off the well. A man after her own heart, Silveran. In any class, you could coast along, do the safe, responsible thing. And that would level you, but they all knew the truth.

When you fought, you levelled. And you fought hard, dirty, fast, and desperate—so the [Cleaners] were ready to rumble with Pallass’ finest. Jelaqua thought Pallass’ cleaning companies wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Alright, speaking of cleaning, well’s ready to be cleared. Mind if I hop down first?”

She had the vague idea this might be a monster, and the Raskghar weighed on her mind. The two [Cleaners] were only too happy to help her into the harness to be lowered down, but first, all four spent a good moment to admire the well.

Wells in Pallass were actually elegant things. Because the City of Inventions was a pyramid design. Each floor overlapped on the one below, so the visible space shrank the further down you got. Citizens living on the 1st Floor would be under the other floors almost everywhere they walked; hence the City of Innovation’s emphasis on lighting and greenery to keep people from developing cabin fever.

Because of that curious design, there was no possibility of a straight well running from top floor down, was there? So how did you get water at all that high up?

Piping. And the huge system of water that was pumped upwards by Pallass’ machinery. So this well connected directly to a cistern for the district, then floor…Jelaqua Ivirith found the problem as they lowered her into the well.

“Yep! Here’s a clog! Gross!”

“I’ll vaporize it with my [Cleaning Blast]! That’s a real Skill! The water will taste pretty minty for like a week afterwards—that’s a sign it’s clean! But we’ll scrub down the mold and make sure the cistern’s clean if we can get access!”

Mithy shouted down the well. Jelaqua hollered back.

“I think as a landlord I have access! Ishkr, can you figure that out? I’m going to check for any monsters! Probably no rats, but if there’s a slime, I’ll punch it!”

Even Water Slimes could germinate in the cleanest of places, and Jelaqua did in fact find one to punch. She tossed the mana core up at Minty Mithy as they pulled her up, and by now, there were faces poking out of the apartment windows.

Ishkr and Scourge Simon had introduced themselves as repairspeople, which had made the tenants brighten up, but when the Selphid came out of the well, they froze.

They recognized Jelaqua.

“Oh no, it’s her again! Someone call Melika!”

“Landlord Inmal is going to flip out! And raise rent! He does it when he’s mad—”

“I heard she was going to murder him!”

Jelaqua strolled over and waved at them.

“Hoya, kids! Don’t worry about the old guy; he’s fine. I’m your new landlady! I don’t have the class, but we’re fixing the well up! And if you let Scourge Simon in, he’ll clean your rooms up in a second!”

The man gave the younger people a huge smile that belied his terrifying name in the [Cleaners]’ world. He had amazing dimples.

The tenants of the apartment complex stared as there was a rumble from below, then Minty came up the well, laughing as water began to pour from the spigot.

“One shot, one clean! Okay, scrubbing brush—no one drink from it until I’m done!”

“You bought the apartments? But why…?”

A confused Merry was rubbing at his eyes as he came out of his apartments, probably because he worked a night-shift job. He turned and flinched; there was a clang as Ishkr took the gate off by the hinges.

“Our gate!”

“Don’t worry about it, kids. That gate isn’t worth spit. I could bust it down with the lock in five seconds, and any [Thief] will just jump the fence. We’ve got a better one from a [Smith] my husband knows. And wards. Now, you’ll need one of these…”

She handed Merry a little glowing stone, then another.

“This one lets you in at the gate, or an alarm sounds. This one you press if you’re in trouble. Anyone with a keyed stone hears it and knows where you are. Plus, it’s loud as shit, so the Watch usually comes running.”

He blinked at the stones. Then stared at Jelaqua.

“Why’re you doing this? Melika already makes sure we get food and medicine.”

“She does a lot. I’m just some busybody adventurer. What’s your level in [Rogue], lad?”

She threw an arm around his shoulders, and Merry hesitated.

“Only 14, but—how’d you—?”

“Most classes start as [Rogue]. Or [Thief]. For you, hitting a higher level isn’t as vital as it is for Anama, but there’s ways to hit Level 20 easy. They just require suffering. You’re below anyone who needs levelling, but just hit me up. I knew a Drowned Man who was the best [Rogue] I ever met. Off and on land. I hope he’s doing well. Oh, and if you’re working for a gang that does some seedy shit, knock it off and quit before they vanish. I will evict anyone who’s selling something dangerous or committing terrible crimes. If you need work, that’s different.”

The Selphid stretched her back out, and it cracked as the half-Gnoll [Rogue] blinked at her. She cast around the apartment complex and thought it needed…something. A flag. You always needed flags. Adventurer teams didn’t have them in Izril, and that was a shame. The ones in Baleros had amazing flags. But this was no team. It was something else.

 

——

 

Melika Blackwing was a bad flier. Pallass didn’t exactly strain your wing muscles, so when she flapped on in, ducking the ceiling, Jelaqua was already giving a lecture to her tenants.

“Alright, if you want to hit Level 10 in any combat class, it’s you and me. It might take more than one try because now you’re aiming for it, but believe me, you’ll need potions. If you want more than that? There are Silver-rank quests that Celum, Esthelm, Liscor—well, Liscor’s underwater, so not there—and Pallass offer. That’s not easier. In fact, it’s harder because you could get hurt and die. Especially because you’ll pull your weight. Choice is yours. But I’ll train anyone who wants it, not even for levels. Self-defense? You name it. If you want a job, I’m less good at that, but there’s [Smiths] who need a hand, and I’ve got contacts in Liscor.”

Melika listened, open-mouthed, as Ishkr waved.

“I’m Ishkr. I’m just here to watch.”

He wore a mysterious smile, and something in Melika told her that he—she should impress him. Her [Socialite] class had never steered her wrong before, but for once, she ignored the instincts.

“Jelaqua Ivirith! What are you doing? This is unacceptable! You can’t—how did you buy—? Inmal never took the offers I made with my charity, and the [Senator]’s office kept saying that the paperwork wasn’t one they were familiar with!”

Jelaqua Ivirith turned, and she smiled at the Garuda as water came out of a pump. Then she turned and called out.

“Don’t get too complacent with that well! How much is plumbing? Damn, I’d better check my account. I am gonna have to charge rent. I wonder if that’s how they all turn into bastards.”

She sighed as Minty Mithy offered to do the work—if Silveran’s Cleaners got their permit for Pallass. Melika just gazed around for Anama.

The Drake was peeking out of her rooms at Jelaqua, not coming down. The Selphid waved up at her and commented to Melika.

“She might never be at ease with me. I won’t actually come by that often if I bother them; you can run this place if it makes you feel better. Most of the Halfseekers can’t level someone.”

“You—you’re insane, Jelaqua. And a bully! You strongarmed Inmal into selling and the Watch—! How could you hit her like that?”

Melika was trembling. She had no read on the Selphid, who she believed was the kindest, most heroic Gold-ranker she knew. And who her class had told her was genuine! Even now, Jelaqua Ivirith seemed gentle, but her smile was hard.

“Because if Anama hits Level 30, she’ll live past 40 years. If she hits Level 40, she’ll make it to her seventies. Level 50? I think at that point any negative a Scorchling has vanishes.”

The Garuda tried a different tack; she seemed to be sliding off Jelaqua’s wall of insanity.

“You want to send them on adventuring missions? As Silver-rank adventurers? Are you mad?”

“They’re not adventurers, but I was. I’m not turning them into ones unless they want to be. But the Scorchlings can fight. In fact, it’s the best class for them because [Warriors] get the toughest. And they’ll be good at it.”

“They’re children. None of them have left Pallass’ walls except for excursions!”

Melika shrieked at Jelaqua, and the Selphid rubbed at one ear.

“Maybe they should have. Fresh air is good for your lungs. They’re Scorchlings, Melika. If it’s in their wings, their gravity’s shifted. If they’re afflicted by breath, it’s always powerful, even if it hurts them. I’ve known Sootlings, Scorchlings, whatever you want to call them before, and they can fight.”

“They don’t have to. This is Pallass, not—not Baleros! You can’t keep them safe, you said yourself!”

Melika saw horrors, and Jelaqua Ivirith’s eyes were cold now.

“No. I can’t even save my own team. But I can give them those levels. Their choice.”

“You didn’t give Anama a choice!”

The Selphid shrugged.

“No, but that’s because I had the chance. If I could, I’d lock each one of ‘em in a ring with me and damn me for it. I’m the best Halfseeker for this. Moore could never do it. Most of the Halfseekers couldn’t or didn’t have the control. Even Seborn’s too soft for all he talks hard. It was just me and Garen, if they even let him in the city.”

Her head turned to Melika as the Garuda panted.

“You’re insane. I’ll get the Watch to keep you from the orphanage! You—you can’t be their [Landlady]!”

Jelaqua looked sad, then. She turned to Melika, hands in her pockets.

“I’m sorry, I really am. You did such a great job with what you had, and here I am barging in…it’s what I do. I’m a Gold-rank adventurer. I smash things and break what I don’t like. Everyone thinks it’s because I’m related to the inn. Well, it’s not. Erin’s just one of us.”

She jerked a thumb at her chest now, and her eyes were blazing with that pink flame. It felt, then, like she was the only person in the plaza that was real. Like she were sucking the color and vividness from everyone else around her. Only her—and the Gnoll behind her, who sat like a witness to such things. Like he was meant to be there.

“Boring Gold-rankers go around slaying monsters or being famous for finding treasure. The real ones change things. The Silver Swords saved more lives than you or I will ever know. Griffon Hunt? They’ve stopped Griffin attacks across Izril for places that needed it for two decades. That Griffin migration would have killed thousands. Damn shame about Typhenous’ mistake. Damn shame. We make mistakes, but we never back down from fights.”

The Garuda [Socialite] said nothing as Jelaqua smiled and glanced around at the young people.

“No fighting in the ranks, kids. Squabble and bicker and tease, but you’re all on the same side, got it? That’s how it works. When one of you calls for help, everyone comes running. Alright, enough speeches! Who needs a hand first?”

She turned away, glancing at Melika as if wondering if they were enemies now. The Garuda woman didn’t know. How was she supposed to fight Captain Jelaqua Ivirith? A Gold-rank adventurer?

 

——

 

Jelaqua stood there in the plaza, giving advice, instructions, directions, to the people who came and went. Rarely, gold. Usually for contractors.

“I don’t give handouts. I’m not rich enough, and it doesn’t help. If you want to sign up for adventuring duty, you need to train. Hey, Ophala, who’s your gang?”

She was giving the featherless Garuda a hard time. Ophala ducked into the stairwell, appearing hunted, and Jelaqua sighed. Then she stood as a shadow crept down, mixing with the inky blackness that appeared when the night-lights sprang to life from the ceiling overhead.

“She doesn’t gang. She’s too goody-goody and wants to impress Melika for that. I think she’s a [Lookout].”

“For some big gang? That’s a risky job, and she seems quick. She laced you twice when you two were fighting. Who’s she report to?”

Jelaqua didn’t turn her head as Anama sat on the stairs that were going to be demolished and rebuilt tomorrow apparently. Gold and her name had power. Anama wanted it. She hated Jelaqua; she had never disliked anyone more. She had never wanted the Selphid’s abilities more. Even more than wanting to breathe without coughing…

The Scorchling coughed now, and Jelaqua glanced at her.

“Shame you didn’t get better lungs or heat control.”

“I—I wanted scales.”

“Ah, want. Careful. You should want to be better rather than look better at Level 20. If you hit it. You could just sit here and find another group to run with. Melika takes care of you kids well. Maybe…too well.”

Jelaqua put a foot on the repaired well’s cover, and Anama glared.

“Are you being sarcastic? You did more’n she could. How’s she doing too well?”

The Selphid tilted her head.

“I’m here a day, kid. Who knows, I might have a kid, lose interest, be gone tomorrow. She’s been with you since you were kids. Time matters. Now I’m doing speeches again. What I meant was—when life is hard, you level. So maybe without her, more of you would be dead or worse, but a few of you’d have levelled. That’s the damn thing about how levels work.”

She sighed, and Anama coughed.

“So why aren’t you making our lives hell? Free toilets instead of the shared ones sounds easier.”

“Shitting in a bucket instead of a toilet never levelled anyone up, Anama. Except that one time…that’s a rumor. I guess I’m soft. Besides, some things would be better if you had them, right?”

The young woman coughed again.

“A tub would be…nice. One that fills with cold water instead of having to go to a bathhouse and pay for it?”

Her voice filled with longing at the idea, and Jelaqua glanced at her, and her face grew shadowed.

“Yeah. Imagine that in Pallass of all places. You’ll get one.”

Then they were quiet. Anama rubbed her chest. She forced the words out after a lot of tries, and they were halting because she was afraid. Afraid to ask and be answered.

“Can you—can you really make me better?”

Jelaqua turned her head.

“I can level you up. The number of my friends who hit Level 30 are six out of eight. That’s a good record. The number of my friends who hit Level 40…? Zero. Well, one, but I don’t think he counts.”

She laughed ruefully. Anama didn’t know what she meant, but she drank in the words like cooling rain.

“I’m only a Gold-ranker, Anama. You think that’s big because you’ve never seen the top. I’m a mean old Selphid. Not Melika. She’s kindness all the way down, like a cake. I’m filled with beartraps. But I can do what’s needed. At the very least, I know what you all need. And it’s to stop acting like you quit Uplifting Wings once you get too old. You’re a team. You grew up together, damn it! You support each other and fight and die together.”

She turned her head.

“Well, that’s all I know from Baleros. Funny thing is, Melika’s from there too. She’s awfully kind for someone from the Continent of War.”

Anama sat there, excited and afraid of this woman who was contemplating her new future. Because she felt like she was going to sign up on the piece of paper Jelaqua had tacked up, even though Melika said she could stay at the orphanage or anywhere else.

Death or glory. And death was coming for Anama; Jelaqua Ivirith had never lied about that, and Melika did. The Selphid knew death, and Anama’s scales were cool and not flaking for the first time in her life. So she croaked a secret.

“Ophala ‘n Merry and Consillir all run in the same gang. I dunno how they get money, but they work for someone important.”

“Oh? That’s bad.”

“Maybe. But maybe you know her? She’s that Drake who follows you around sometimes. The one with the badge?”

Jelaqua stiffened and swore under her breath.

“Zemize. No wonder she knows what I’m doing. Damn it. First the Raskghar, now this. I thought Pallass was going to be boring! It’s only a Walled City, I said—ah, well.”

She let out a huge sigh and stretched. Anama heard her back pop, and the Selphid turned in the darkness of Pallass. Her smile caught the light as she chuckled.

“I was getting bored in my retirement.”

 

——

 

That night, Jelaqua Ivirith didn’t go to sleep in great expectations of anything, but it seemed something else did have plans for her. For as ever, she heard that voice.

 

[Steelforged Whirlwind Level 39…?]

 

It felt a bit…off. Jelaqua Ivirith shifted as she lay next to Maughin, not really awake. And she would have said, if she were fully awake, that the level didn’t track.

She’d done no real combat. But what else did she have? Only [Loving Wife], and that made no sense. Of course, you could give another class.

 

[Landlord Class Ob…!]

 

No, she wouldn’t take that, would she? The slumbering Jelaqua grimaced, and the voice trailed off.

Like it was thinking. Unravelling a little knot of Jelaqua’s actions. Because they were odd, weren’t they? Once again, she’d done something different. Something new…but they sort of fit with who she was as well. Just not her current, consolidated class.

Perhaps:

 

[Steelforged Whirlwind Level 38.]

[Subclass: Mercenary Level 25!]

[Skill – Beat Them Into…]

 

Again, the voice trailed off. Thoughtfully, and Jelaqua Ivirith slumbered, trusting and waiting. Until at last the voice came back, satisfied.

 

[Class Separation: Mercenary Reassigned.]

[Class Change: Mercenary → Company Commander Obtained!]

[Company Commander Level 26!]

[Skill – Gruelling Taskmistress Obtained!]

[Skill – Company: Check Condition Obtained!]

[Skill – Motivating Presence Obtained!]

[Skill – Company: Bonds of Fellowship Obtained!]

 

Then Jelaqua Ivirith opened her eyes and blinked at the ceiling.

“Class separation?”

She’d never heard of that. Next to her, Maughin’s body rolled over in his sleep. And what was that?

[Commander]? She’d been a [Mercenary], someone who could lead a squad, but a company? That was a huge promotion. But why…?

“Oh. I guess I was sort of thinking about it like that. Kids and soldiers. Someone needs to…yeah.”

The Selphid was staring at her hands. She saw Maughin open one sleepy eye.

“Jelaqua? Is it Raskghar again?”

“No; go to sleep, silly.”

He dropped off at once. Jelaqua would tell him in the morning, but she realized…yes. That was the right answer. That was how she was thinking.

Company. The [Company Commander] lay back in her bed and wondered if she’d ever hit Level 40. But eternally levelling in other classes.

A company. The idea bloomed in her head, the same thing that the voice had latched onto, and then Jelaqua saw it, like one of Maughin’s armor diagrams. An idea blooming in the darkness.

“Yeah. Why not?”

She didn’t know orphanages. She didn’t—couldn’t be Melika, trying to work within the law. All she knew was adventuring and her home. She knew how a company lived and worked. The Selphid rubbed at her chin. She wasn’t even the first to come to Izril. Perorn Fleethoof was the first.

Hers was just the second. A mercenary company like no other. The Selphid laughed to herself. Leading children.

Someone had to. She rolled over in her bed and was asleep in seconds, like the experienced campaigner she was. She had a busy day tomorrow and every day after that.

At last, she was back to work.

 

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

I am on my weekly break! If you didn’t see the announcement above, I just don’t have any backlog remaining to post. I need editing time and frankly I’m a bit burnt out by the release speed. So, see you on the 4th!

With that said…about the chapter! The animosity ending between Melika and Jelaqua was not planned. I, in fact, had an entire next several scenes filling in days or even weeks, and a big event that required…you know what? I’m done.

I remind you this is a one-day chapter. And the power of coffee has brought it to life. It’s not perfect, but Jelaqua would be the first to tell you she’s a messy Gold-ranker.

I hope you like it. You may even disagree with how she operates—I’ve been meaning to write a retrospective on the [Palace of Fates] but wouldn’t y’know it, I’m either sick or on vacation and sick or busy working. But one of the things I often tell people giving feedback is that there’s two ways you often hate a scene or characters.

The first is if it’s bad on a level of mischaracterization or failed plotlines—technical execution, logical fallacy or just contrivance. The second is on an emotional level. If the character does what they would do, what you know them to do, and you hate it, well, that’s valid feedback but it also means the scene might work just fine. (Or it also sucks and that’s a second level.)

But I think many of us would be on Melika’s side here. I myself might object to Jelaqua if I saw her in person, and I’m sure she’d probably toss me off the 7th Floor in a second or wherever Grimalkin’s mansion is. But I do believe that’s Jelaqua.

I hope you like this one-day chapter…Moore is the last one before the finale, and I dread it because it’s already big in my head. Maybe…maybe I’ll scale back what he’s doing? Or save it for a full chapter? Are you enjoying these, by the way? This will be Part 8, counting Erin’s by the time you read it, and my power levels are dropping fast.

But where there’s a coffee, there’s a way. Just so you know…when I say it’s a ‘coffee day’, I mean I load one regular spoonful of instant coffee into hot water and some honey. Not a ridiculous stack, just loaded up. That’s how much coffee I require.

Imagine if I ever drank an energy drink. The power…I’ve never had one in my life.

Someday.

See you next chapter!

 

 

Wailer Frog, Quillfish, Lurkersnatch, and Dinobird by Enuryn the [Naturalist]!

Portfolio: https://enuryndraws.art/

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Enuryn_Nat

 

 

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