Interlude - Acceptable Romance

Oh, yes, they’d all seen that Archmage soar. Somehow, the sight of a Human woman in her sixties flying upwards was more impressive than a hundred people born with wings. Not just because she’d done it when she’d been born without the ability to fly.

It was the drama of the moment. Seeing Archmage Amerys stealing Valeterisa’s work, the way one was so clearly stronger, bullying—yes, bullying Valeterisa, even if it came in the form of grand spells and magic? That struck a chord as well with anyone who had ever longed to fight back or see someone get what they deserved. And who was a bigger villain or bully than one of the King of Seven’s warriors?

It struck a chord on so many levels, that woman’s story.

Pallass was abuzz with it. Dead gods, Izril was.

On the heels of Archmage Valeterisa’s battle with Archmage Amerys, and the advent of Lord Mireden, there were people eyeing Liscor as a place to go to. Rumors of some academy were spreading. And you had children, young adults, and adults themselves wondering—

Could that be me?

Because it was one thing to see Archmage Amerys throwing lightning around or the half-Giant withstanding a storm of magic. But Valeterisa didn’t look like the last of a legendary species or a heroine from stories.

Of course, the trick was that you’d delude yourself into thinking she hadn’t worked harder than anyone else to get there, but the dream…that was changing Izril. It benefited Pallass in no small way; Drakes and Gnolls might well come to Pallass as the acceptable gateway to the north. But it was not a perfect afterwards for Pallass.

An incident had occured. A tragedy, really. The makings of one so upsetting, so hindering to the City of Inventions it outweighed all the good from that moment, even seeing the King of Destruction’s [Mage] humbled.

That was, of course, Grimalkin the Sinew Magus of Pallass and his dramatic confession on air. Everyone had seen it. While it had been overshadowed by the magical duel, now, in the aftermath, it was being discussed. Tragic, so tragic…

“I think something has to be done, I truly do. I’m not the one pushing for it, but—we’ll see what they have to say. Melika, you have your [Socialite]…powers. What’s the mood of the citizenry like?”

Lord Werdin Blackwing was adjusting his doublet as they got out of the elevator for their rendezvous on the 6th Floor—a private gathering spot, the Dragonfire Museum. It was ostensibly a huge building with twin pillars supporting a roof that stretched almost to the ‘ceiling’, where 7th Floor sheltered it. A massive and public space that exhibited some of Pallass’ treasures and history for the public.

However, the size of the building did not match the museum size: it had six floors that were private and had been converted into office space. And a fully functional kitchen that occupied an entire floor. And a ballroom.

After 11 PM, the entire museum closed unless you were a Ruby-card carrier, in which case you had the run of the building, and wasn’t that fantastic if the rich and powerful needed a place to gather but didn’t want their servants picking up all the trash for a week thereafter?

Melika Blackwing knew it well. It was the kind of place you only got invited to if you were truly ‘in’ with Pallass’ high society. Someone like Jelaqua Ivirith, Grimalkin, or even Chaldion would never appear here for various reasons.

Jelaqua Ivirith. Melika clenched a feathered fist as she exited the elevator in a scandalously befeathered dress that looked tribal—not that she’d know what was culturally insensitive, but it was no ballroom dress. This was rather less formal, and Werdin only wore the doublet because he didn’t have anything more casual.

“Hm? What? The mood in Pallass? There’s a lot of confusion around this Lady Pryde now that everyone’s put it together, dear. But the Sinew Magus is enduringly popular. It’s more scandalous than outrageous for most of the young folk, I think. I heard everyone at the orphanage talking about it.”

Rather intently too. Werdin grunted as he rubbed at his neck spines.

“And the nobility?”

“Oh, much like you, Werdin.”

“Blast.”

He took that as ‘outraged’ rather than ‘dismayed’, which was what Melika meant. She felt it was more shock and anxiety than actual anger, but Werdin was muttering.

“Something’s got to be done. Of all things a Human [Lady], let alone…! If it was some poor homeless wretch from the north it’d be fine. But not one of the nobility allied to Magnolia Reinhart. Then again, she’s passé right now. Couldn’t it have been some student of his at least?”

Melika opened her beak as she saw more people stepping out of elevators. Unlike, say, Invrisil, no one was taking a carriage; what was the point in a city like Pallass? Public transport did for the upper class here.

“I—surely bedding a student is more scandalous, Werdin? Lady Pryde was a fan of his.”

“Was she? Don’t be bird-brained, anyways, Melika. A Drake or Gnoll or even Garuda or Dullahan student is infinitely preferable to—I thought he and that Gnoll apprentice he had were sharing the same bed.”

“Sinew Magus Grimalkin is a [Mage] of exceptional integrity, Werdin!”

The Lord of the Walls seemed irritated about Melika correcting him. He adjusted his doublet again and then strode for the side entrance to the museum.

“Don’t get peckish at me. What, are you molting? You look excellent as ever. I’m just saying—I’ve met the Tome Magus, Glasiaad. Isn’t it normal…? Aha, Chorlic, there you are!”

The question was left unanswered as Werdin strode forwards and slapped shoulders with Wall Lord Chorlic. Another noble of Pallass, but one who had connections besides his nobility. Chorlic ran three famous restaurants and hired the top-level [Chefs] in the city. Despite his name, he was rather fit. He slapped Werdin on the shoulders a few times; they’d known each other since they were hatchlings.

“Werdin and the lovely Melika, as always! Good to see you! Everyone’s already inside. Huge turnout this time. I think there’s sixty of us and some rather fine spicing to tonight’s repast.”

Werdin cast around reflexively.

“Shh! Melika and I were just discussing the Sinew Magus thing. I imagine that’s the topic.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Such a problem. Why don’t we go inside…? My date is just fussing with her hair. Sharke, are you done yet?”

Melika recognized the name, but she was still surprised to see the beautiful Dullahan peering into a hand mirror and adjusting her curls. When she saw Melika, Sharke stepped out of the elevator she’d been using and waved.

“Melika and Lord Werdin!”

“Er, Sharke. Delighted.”

Werdin grew uncomfortable and folded his wings as Chorlic put one arm around his date for the night. He was unmarried, despite being the same age as Werden—in his forties—and Sharke accompanying him for the night made utter sense.

She was, like Melika, a [Socialite]. Just not married yet, and Werdin had gone out with her before tying the knot with Melika.

The Garuda smiled at her friend and took Werdin’s arm.

“Well, I can see I have someone to talk to. Werdin, would you like to go ahead with Chorlic?”

“Of course. Chorlic, you have to get me a reservation at your restaurants. I hear you’re up to something, and I have a few friends who’re interested. But first this Grimalkin thing. What did you think?”

The other Wall Lord kept walking as one of Sharke’s arms disengaged to go with him. He rolled his eyes at the little stunt and tossed her arm back to the Dullahan.

“What do I think? I can’t see it. I mean, I heard she was disfigured. She looked quite nice before that, but what’s under the bag?”

“Be serious, Chorlic.”

“I am. I’m dying to know—fine, fine, don’t flap your wings at me. It’s outrageous, of course, but d’you know what anyone else is saying?”

The two stormed ahead, heading up the stairs to the 8th floor where everyone would be. Melika and Sharke hung back, waiting for the elevator. Melika whispered.

“Chorlic, really, Sharke? He’s never going to be anything serious.”

Sharke’s eyes were dancing; she had on very lithe, very form-fitting armor that made Melika self-conscious, and she appeared at least a decade younger than she was. Her curls were dyed purple today, Melika noted, a very nice look.

“Well, he’s easy, and I wanted to see what everyone was saying about the Sinew Magus! I knew you’d be here. Nice dress. Fits well with the mood.”

“Bah, it’s from two years ago. I’m just recycling half of them at this point. I don’t need to try as hard with Werdin. So how are things? Found anyone you think you’d like to settle down with?”

The basis of the [Socialite] class was, of course, to advance one’s position. And there were many methods to that, but one of the most basic was to marry upwards. For Melika and Sharke back in the day, finding that suitor had been a source of competition and teamwork between the two.

However, Sharke just pulled a face.

“I’m not sure I want to marry and have to push out a kid or two. Maybe I’ll find someone who already has a kid like you, Melika. Then again, Werdin might get that itch…and I’m not just talking Yellow Rivers.”

Melika shuddered.

“Sharke. Please, we’re about to eat. It must be something you have to navigate…”

“You have no idea. I practically ran out of most dates rather than, you know, get more intimate when it was bad. So do the others in our class. I heard Rolt actually caught it.”

“Oh no. Was it as bad as they said…?”

“He has scars. Eugh, I asked him to show me them—”

The doors opened, and the two women shut up a second as they found some actual museum-goers who gave them strange glances. The two women were dressed for a party, and Melika inserted the red chip she had into the elevator, which unlocked the 8th Floor as a destination. She hit the button, and the elevator went up, stopping to let the museum-goers out. Sharke went back to talking at once.

“Anyways, where have you been? I’ve heard about you, Miss Melika. The rumor is you’ve been a bit wild. What happened to the spotless feathers of Pallass’ most charitable noblelady? Scrapping with a gang and feuding with a Gold-rank adventurer?”

Melika snorted out her beak, annoyed as Sharke reminded her of Jelaqua.

“Pfft. Did you get that from [Rumors on the Wind] or something?”

“No, just teasing. Is it true you asked the Watch to arrest that Gold-ranker who married Maughin?”

“She’s a menace. She attacked the children in Uplifting Wings—nearly beat one of the girls to death! Then she threatened the landlord of the property and made herself the owner! I’m trying to keep the young folk away from her, but…”

“Wait, the landlord? Isn’t that the old fogey you asked me to try to talk around? The horrendous one?”

“Yes, but—she’s worse! Sort of!”

Melika groused in Sharke’s ear about Jelaqua Ivirith, who had gone from her inspiration and heroine to a foe. Just you wait, Jelaqua. Melika Blackwing was not someone to cross! She’d, oooh, she’d…ruin Jelaqua’s social reputation! Arrange for someone to misplace her next catering order! Beat down her shoes if Jelaqua left them at the door to a fancy ball!

Sharke and Melika paused as they walked down the corridor to the private ballrooms where some security was ensuring only the right sort got in. They were waved on past, and the Dullahan [Socialite] turned to Melika.

“She is a Gold-rank adventurer, isn’t she? Good luck. I’m not making an enemy of a Selphid who can beat a Wyvern with her bare hands.”

Melika drooped. It was, uh, hard to imagine a way to fight Jelaqua in any arena other than polite society for her. Even if you daydreamed about hiring a gang to beat her up—and Melika didn’t actually want that—the daydreams mostly turned into Jelaqua Ivirith mopping the floor with any number of hardened ruffians.

“Nevermind Jelaqua, Sharke. You’d like her aside from how much she brutalizes children! Ugh, let’s just put our smiles on for your sake.”

The doors opened, and the two entered the night’s engagement, all sunshine. They knew everyone’s names, in order, and who had done what, who was grieving or upset—

If Jelaqua Ivirith could storm a cave with her mace swinging, this was Melika and Sharke going in with Skills blazing.

“Lady Duskal, so good to see you. You’re looking a decade younger; what is that new armor polish doing?”

“Senator Ciltrel, you rogue. Melika’s taken, and I’m with a friend tonight. Back, back, I say!”

[Socialites] turned, recognizing the two veterans of such events and either nodding or pretending they weren’t all about the same task. That was the key in moments like these: you had to have someone of Melika’s class.

The high-leveled society of any city could be so dreadfully dull sometimes. Pallass had a higher-than-average quotient of [Socialites] given the city’s egalitarian approach to multiple species and trade. Manus? Practically none.

Melika and Sharke brought that charm, quick conversation, and tact that made you actually feel like you were among elegant peers rather than, say, someone who was just rich or knew the right people. Which wasn’t what you wanted to feel like at all! Especially if that was the only reason you belonged here.

Well, the other thing Melika brought was her perspective, which was remembering a life before she was rich. Werdin lacked it; he’d been raised with literal silver spoons in his mouth from the day he was born. He had the first spoon he’d been given framed in their bedroom with his baby teeth marks on it. He hadn’t just married Melika for her looks, though that had been part of it; he knew he could rely on her instincts in these moments.

So she kept a finger on the pulse of the room as Sharke circled any of the men she thought were on the up-and-up or whom she hadn’t met yet. It seemed like there was a good deal of concern; she heard Grimalkin’s name again and again, but this was also, clearly, a good reason to just get out and have a fun time.

It was Gnorna, the 7th day of the week, perfect since you had Zenze to sleep things off before you had to get back to work on Beithday, and everyone knew that the Dragonfire Museum was for the fun gatherings. It had a…reputation.

That was why even old Duskal, that unlikable battleaxe who just ‘oversaw’ the Engineering Guild, was here, glancing at a table. There was a strong odor of incense in the air; someone had lit several candles and dimmed the magical lights, giving this room an intimate vibe.

Oh, it was going to be like that, was it? Melika rolled her eyes as some of the visitors, a mix of politicians and businesspeople, grew excited. She saw Sharke cover her mouth and cough.

“Ugh. That’s strong. What do you think? Dreamleaf again?”

Melika sniffed and instantly drew Sharke over to a table. There was food and ‘special’ food present; she did a quick check to make sure she didn’t grab anything ‘fun’ by accident. That was the last thing she needed.

“Not edgy enough. No, it smells like…Roama’s Fancy. Mixed with something else. Here, get some water and bread in you.”

She took several brisk bites of bread and stuffed herself with it and water as Sharke did likewise, grousing.

“Roama’s Fancy? Someone has no taste. Everyone’s hitting ampules of Carivek in bars.”

“Shush.”

Odds were the organizer of this particular party was here, and there was no sense in making enemies. Still, the heady drug was just too expensive for Melika’s taste, even if it provoked energy and excitement.

Not that she did more than Dreamleaf puffers these days; she had to set an example around the children, and they could smell just as well as anyone else. Plus, all of this was highly illegal in a Drake city like Pallass.

Highly. No Dreamleaf let alone anything stronger. Pallass came down hard on that sort of thing…which was why this kind of event was so prized for the people attending. Dead gods, every [Senator] here had probably voted in a measure on strong anti-drug and smuggling laws.

If Melika let that kind of thing bother her, she’d never sleep. It was just how most societies went. There were rules for thee and rules for me, and I’d also really like to have fun.

Hence Lady Duskal appearing by the table, grabbing a tart, licking it, and her pupils growing huge in her eyes.

“Oh my. I’ve been waiting for this all month. I wish whatshername, the Drake with the armor, had stayed for this. Melika, you must try this. I’m seeing myself twenty years younger. When I really wore this armor, you know? She’s so beautiful, me.”

Okay, and those were definitely tarts laced to the nines with Elf’s Tears if Melika was any judge. Dead gods, if licking it was enough—she fended Duskal off as the Dullahan woman tried to seize her arm. Duskal was already crying.

“That’s wonderful, Duskal. Truly. Sharke, I think Duskal needs something to eat with that tart. And seats.”

They found the Dullahan woman a seat where she began to blab about her missed youth to a Drake in the same condition. Sharke groaned.

“I hope Chorlic’s not also eating tarts. I rather fancied an evening after this, you know. He’s not that bad.”

“You’d never marry him.”

“No, of course not, but we can be friends. Where is he? Oh, good, they’re over there with the braziers.”

There were a few types at this kind of party. Those like Lady Duskal who went off the deep end and became loners, if only in their own mind, the group that was here to either socialize or try to hook up—they’d vanish into other rooms or circulate—and the last group, who wanted that social gathering, but with the edge of whatever was burning in the air tonight.

Melika found Werdin and Chorlic talking animatedly near one of the hanging lamps burning whatever was in the air. They were visibly having fun, and wine was flowing along with other various substances; she wasn’t surprised to see her husband and Chorlic also had cigars.

Dead gods, it must take the [Cleaners] ages to do the ceiling and rug. However, the conversation wasn’t trite. It was about him.

“The Sinew Magus really has done it now. Truly, I never thought he was all that. But after seeing him punch out the Frost Wyvern, I thought he might be fit for High Society. Well, until I heard his opinion on drinking let alone anything more fun. But then he does this? What are we to do with him?”

One of the Drakes was talking loudly to nods around the room. Werdin growled.

“On live television no less! What was that idiot Noass thinking?”

“Now, now. It wasn’t Noass’ fault! I take umbrage to that, Werdin.”

Noass’ defender was no less than Sir Relz himself, who waved a claw as he adjusted his monocle. He was high society; Noass was sometimes allowed in such gatherings, but only because Relz was there. Right now, Noass was absent; perhaps at work. Werdin caught himself.

“I apologize, Relz, I only meant—”

“No, no. I was there. Ridiculous. You can actually see me trying to push that woman off screen. The moment I saw her, I thought to myself: ‘he can’t be serious’. But then he said the part he shouldn’t have out loud.”

Sharke and Melika glanced at each other. The Dullahan edged into the conversation, taking Chorlic’s arm.

“I thought it was rather romantic myself.”

The entire group laughed at the airheaded Dullahan, which was what Sharke had tried for, of course, but Melika thought Sharke had meant it. The room was mostly Drake or Gnoll with notables from Dullahans—very few Garuda. As outsiders, she and Sharke had a lot of sympathy towards Pryde, even if she were a Human.

“No one’s throwing you out, Sharke. We’re talking about politics here. Northern politics. If she was just some Human, then it’s fine.”

“I was just saying that, Chorlic. It’s because she’s a [Lady]. Not just a [Lady], either, but House Ulta.”

One of the big names. Ulta sent forces to the south, and if it wasn’t of the Five Families, it had salt, and it was just…the north. The group rumbled as Senator Ciltrel took a huge drag on a puffer stick.

“Indeed. The Assembly of Crafts is talking about it nonstop. My peers across the aisle are united with me in that it’s going to be a problem…but we’re not going to make it a matter of policy. What would we even write? Something about not fraternizing with Human nobles? Even so—he just can’t do this. So. What’s to be done?”

The entire group presumed that it was they who had to fix this matter, of course. The Sinew Magus of Pallass was seeing a Human [Lady]. For the sake of Pallass’ reputation, something had to be done.

“It’s a security risk. We could make it policy…”

“Bah, you’re not actually thinking he’d betray Pallass, are you? No, it’s the look of the thing! We’ll be the laughingstock of the south! Sir Relz, are you getting complaints?”

“Am I getting…? We have thousands. The [Message Mages] are complaining they can’t keep up! Countless cities are outraged!”

Melika put in a comment here.

“Funny. I didn’t hear that sort of thing in Pallass. It must be predominantly-Drake cities who don’t have trade with the north.”

Werdin huffed. His eyes were bright, and he was speaking faster—so was she, Melika noticed, and she hadn’t taken any drugs. But the bread and water would help her absorb and mitigate what was in the air. Good thing too; Garuda were light, and she had very little body mass to absorb drugs, so they’d hit her hard.

“Well, let’s face the facts. He said what he said. The question is, what do we do about it? If it were anyone else, I’d say let things play out. People will abandon his gymnasium, confront him on the matter, and he’ll wise up or leave. Only—it’s the Sinew Magus. We can’t lose him.”

Yes. Everyone lost their smiles and drank or puffed or went for refreshments. Sir Relz waved a cautious claw.

“We wouldn’t lose him. Not Grimalkin. Name a better son of the walls.”

“Valeterisa? And didn’t Fissival lose her?”

Relz gave Sharke a genuinely irritated expression and snorted.

“She was a Human.”

“Yes, but she was theirs. Didn’t we hear as much when she lifted the entire damn city overhead? Sharke’s got a point.”

Chorlic was puffing hard on his cigar, almost down to the butt. He appeared worried.

“I hear House Ulta practically worships that [Lady], and she’s been a fan of our Sinew Magus for a while. Let’s say, hypothetically, Senator Ciltrel outlawed their relationship. Might he leave for House Ulta?”

That sobered the company up a bit. Werdin unfolded his wings in a rush of air, and Melika coughed. The effect of the incense in the air would only get stronger unless someone cracked a window as the haze got deeper. She was getting a bit light-headed. This wasn’t just Roama’s Fancy.

“We can’t lose him. We’ve already lost Duln, Pelt, 2nd Army is a mess, and with Chaldion practically a Yellat…”

There was a palpable unease in the air. Someone spat.

“Hey, wasn’t this supposed to be uplifting? Who’s got a lighter? Hit a few more lamps, would you? Pallass is doing fine. General Edellein—”

“—He bungled the High Passes. Don’t snarl at me, he did. I don’t care what Errif and his lot say. Do you see him here? No. Edellein’s got to prove the New Lands work. I’m just saying, between Duln and Chaldion…we can’t lose someone of Grimalkin’s level.”

“He’s no Archmage—”

“He’s going to get there. You think making those gymnasiums doesn’t earn him levels? I swear, he looks tougher. How close is he to Level 50? We all saw him punch that Wyvern Lord. Plus, with that [Lady], he’s got to be levelling the old-fashioned way, you know?”

A few indecorous hip-thrusts made the speaker’s point clear. Melika rolled her eyes; it was a popular rumor that activities in the bed also levelled you up. She didn’t think that the evidence was more than circumstantial, but the laughter lifted emotions up. Then everyone grew contemplative again.

A Drake [Merchant] who did huge amounts of trade on the 1st Floor glanced around after a moment.

“…Seriously, that woman? I heard she was so ugly the bag over her head was a mercy after some battle at Liscor.”

“Well, would you consider going out with the Sinew Magus?”

“Ugh, point taken. I suppose it makes sense…but she’s so fleshy and pink.”

Melika happened to think that Sinew Magus Grimalkin beat most people she could name in this room for personality…even if he was physically the most imposing Drake she’d ever met. If she’d been on the rise and he’d had his current reputation, she’d have given him a shot. She spoke before they could continue badmouthing the Sinew Magus.

“I imagine they’re about the same level. Above forty. I would probably guess the Sinew Magus is closer to Level 50, though. Which begs the question—is he one of Pallass’ Named-ranks in all but name?”

That silenced the snickering and made them uncomfortable because the Sinew Magus had at least ten levels on most people present. After a moment, Werdin drained his glass.

“We can’t lose him. Period. He works with the army, his weights are popular—”

Chorlic nodded.

“I use them. No indeed, we can’t lose the Sinew Magus. Not that it was ever a question…! But with all this uncertainty and the damn Antinium in Liscor, it makes me think we should cultivate a few more Named-ranks than Saliss.”

“We have more than Saliss, just not in Pallass. Like Glasiaad up north.”

“He’s old. Do we need Saliss…?”

“He accounted for an entire wall’s worth of Wyverns. Annoying as he is, what happens without him?”

Another long silence. Someone muttered.

“I heard he was causing a fuss before he left. Something about, you know, Turnscales?”

Expressions soured on several faces, and Melika made gasping noises with Sharke, but she noted not everyone was that upset—or more interesting, people that overplayed how upset they were. Werdin, who was a good middle-ground for most opinions, the very definition of the consensus in the room, shrugged.

“Turnscales? What about them?”

He turned to Melika reflexively, and she muttered.

“The Watch was after his cousin, I think, dear. He objected—strenuously. I don’t think he blew anything up though.”

“Well…have them ease off, I say. The last thing we need is for him to leave. That’s simple. Why the hells are we wasting gold on that lot, anyways? Do we have a Turnscale problem? I don’t see anything degenerate.”

Werdin turned to interrogate Senator Ciltrel, who shrugged helplessly and vouchsafed that maybe it was General Edellein’s initiative? Which got the group arguing over whether he should have Chaldion’s old authority—of course not.

And like this, the wheels of Pallass did turn. Because these conversations, here, were just as powerful as any group lobbying the [Senators]—moreso since the [Senators] valued and respected their peers here.

But Grimalkin…the voices got more anxious and the speakers more impassioned after the first hour. Melika was sipping water as Chorlic pounded a fist on a chair where they sat about. Normally, they might have entertainment, from [Dancers] to something they could watch or—more ‘risque’ activities she could grow uncomfortable with.

Werdin knew her line, and he had his own. This group had layers, and you didn’t always want to go too deep…there was little reward and a lot of risk if you made them nervous by objecting or appearing uncomfortable. But right now, this was business.

“We need to do something, damn it. It’s a Human! He knows better! He’s not some ordinary citizen. He’s the face of Pallass! It’s like taking a dog to bed. A Dullahan or Garuda is so much better, even a Selphid like that [Smith]! No offense.”

Plenty was taken, but Melika unruffled her feathers as a Gnoll put his head in his paws.

“Conflicted loyalties. And it makes us look bad. What if…what if…what if he proved he was loyal to Pallass?”

Werdin waved his third cigar at the speaker.

“I like that. How?”

“I don’t know. Make him announce it? On truth spell?”

“That’s tasteless. Makes it seem like we doubt him.”

“Make her swear.”

“Who’d trust a Human [Lady]’s word? You can fudge truth spells. Everyone knows that…Wistram’s hinting about a more advanced truth spell. No, it needs to be something more…more…”

“What if she gave up her claim to House Ulta?”

A few people sat up and exclaimed happily at that. Sharke coughed.

“That won’t work.”

Even Chorlic glowered at her, but she shot back.

“She’s the last heir to House Ulta. She can’t renounce her claims.”

“Well, shit on my tail. Something else then! Maybe we’re coming at it the wrong way. We’re the City of Innovations, damn it! Let’s innovate! What if…what if…she signed business agreements with Pallass? Salt for Pallass?”

“Hah! I like that! We don’t pay Zeres for it, and she proves she’s here to help the city.”

“Mm. Doesn’t play well with the normal citizens, though. That’s just the top level.”

Melika was swaying a bit in rhythm with the rest of the group. She felt like she was part of something bigger…she shook herself, snapped out of the trance and realized Sharke was still swaying along. So were Werdin and Chorlic; she nudged Sharke a few times. That broke her friend out of the effect. Werdin was just fixed on Senator Ciltrel, who was gazing at the ceiling for inspiration. And found it.

“That’s it! You know what it is? It’s…it’s about reputation.”

The Drake was trying to beam his thoughts out of his head into the others. He tried to explain, shooting to his feet in sudden excitement.

“Yes! It’s because she’s a [Lady] and he’s not! That makes it seem like she’s better than he is. Therefore, better than us! Some Human noblewoman marries the Sinew Magus when he’s of lower rank to her—it’s power imbalance!”

“Aaaah! Aaaah!”

Chorlic and Werdin pointed at the Drake, beaming. Werdin snapped his claws after five tries.

“That’s it! We have to elevate the Sinew Magus! A Lord of the Wall!”

He raised his voice, and then there was a visible hesitation around the group. Sir Relz lifted his hand, palm outwards.

“No—no, wait, that’s going too far.”

“Wait, that’s right. We can’t just elevate him for no good reason. We did that for Chaldion, but that’s because it was Chaldion. Plus, it makes it look like that’s to equalize them. So…so…”

Lady Duskal had joined the conversation, having come down off one trance-high into another.

“So we bring her down.”

“Right. How?”

“What if…we can’t strip her titles. What if—what if we had the Sinew Magus show Pallass, show the south, who’s in charge? Like—like—I don’t know, put a leash on her?”

Melika sat upright and laughed.

“That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard!”

She turned to Werdin and realized no one was laughing. He was nodding along like a bobbleheaded toy.

“That’s brilliant. Have her wear something or—or demonstrate her loyalties to Pallass. What about a neckband and community service? For her crimes against Pallass? Her family’s crimes and all the dead Drakes and Gnolls.”

“Werdin, you’re a genius.”

Wall Lord Chorlic got up and embraced his friend. There was a round of applause as the group gasped and leapt to their feet. They’d done it!

“Hold on. I think…that’s a bad idea. She’d never do it.”

Scowls turned on Melika as she tried to think. It sounded like a good idea…? Or did it…? Someone harrumphed at her.

“Well then, she’s not actually in love with the Sinew Magus, is she? Maybe a collar’s too obvious. What about a wristband? Some kind of subtle…thing. Then everyone knows, but it’s not noticeable. Chokers aren’t in vogue, anyways.”

“I like that. I like that. What if we made every visitor wear one who’s not from the south? Put a tracking spell on it?”

“You’re a genius. I’m a genius. And if they really want to show loyalty, they can get a scale-etching, or what do the Humans call it? A tattoo…!”

Melika got up after a second. She felt dizzy. She felt like this was all bad ideas, but why…?

She had to go to a window and crack it open and breathe in and out several times before something occurred to her.

I’ve been drugged. No, wait, I knew that, but…

“Melika. Melika—something’s wrong.”

She turned and found her friend was there. Sharke. The Dullahan’s pupils were large in her face, and they were…swirling? They gave Melika the impression they were rotating.

“Sharke, you’re drugged out. You didn’t eat something, did you?”

“No. Your eyes are swirling too, Melika. The burners…someone lit too many. Or it’s too strong. Help…one of the new girls is over there.”

She pointed, and Melika saw a young Drake girl, perhaps a mere [Social Climber], [Partygoer], or even just [Popular Girl], was slumped across a chair. Someone was trying to rouse her, suggesting they go together—

Melika and Sharke almost tossed the man aside. He might have been well-intentioned; Sharke lifted the girl up.

“What did you eat?”

“N-nothing? I feel like I’m flying. Don’t lift me up, I’ll fall, I’ll fall—”

She was panicking. Melika steered her towards the table.

“What’s not spiked? Water, she needs water and bread.”

They made the young woman eat and drink despite her protests; it had an immediate effect on her, and she calmed slightly. Some of the other [Socialites] not with a partner had noticed something was wrong too.

“This isn’t Roama’s Fancy. Someone’s laced it with something a lot stronger. Damn. I thought I heard someone bragging about a delivery from overseas.”

Melika slapped her cheeks, hard, and focused up more.

“Nomaudrel? They have warning labels and how much you’re supposed to take.”

They were very good about it, actually. If she got anything, it was from Cont’dvalle, where you could get the highest-class stuff without worries someone had diluted or spiked it. The Gnoll smoking on a white stick gave Melika a wry gaze.

“Nope. Too expensive, so they had a ‘new’ broker. Empire of Sands, Chandrar. For all we know, they might have ignored the warnings either way. Here, take a puff of this. It’s a Cleansing Cigarette. There’s a Centaur in Liscor who sells me them.”

Melika took a huge puff, letting the smoke linger inside her lungs, then exhaled it. She recoiled from the foul, orange smog she released.

“Can I leave our new friend with you all? I have to get my husband, and Sharke has Lord Chorlic.”

“Sure. We’re out. This is a disaster. I threw open three windows and told security. We’d better all clear out before someone makes a scene and the Watch gets involved or they do something really stupid. Hey, kid, what’s your name?”

The Drake girl was panting.

“L-Lilac.”

“Uh huh. Sure that’s your name.”

“I’m with Senator Ciltrel. I can’t just go—”

The Gnoll [Socialite] took Lilac’s arm.

“You can, and you will. C’mon, he’ll forgive you, and if not, you don’t want to be here anyways. This is one snort of Selphid’s Dust from everyone eating each other.”

That was a more prescient comment than Melika liked. She strode over to Werdin and seized him; the think-tank group was coming up with more ideas for the Grimalkin situation, and they were getting more and more extreme. Sir Relz was writing everything down, monocle digging into his scales as he grinned.

“Werdin, we have to go. Right now.”

“Later, Melika. This is gold.”

He pushed at her, but she grabbed him and offered the others a fake smile.

“I’m so terribly sorry everyone, but it’s Salkis. Our daughter’s up to a bit of trouble. Werdin, it’s important.”

He hesitated, but then got up with a curse. The others barely noticed, but Sharke had gotten Chorlic up as well with the far simpler implication that they should have sex, right now. The two pushed the two Drakes towards the door.

“My coat and—”

“Forget it!”

Melika thought the air had cleared a bit inside, but when they burst out of the Dragonfire Museum into the actual fresh air of the 6th Floor, she gasped the cool spring air and realized how much she’d been inhaling.

“Ancestors, I need another smoke from that cigarette! Who did she say sold her that…? I’ll buy some now!”

Sharke was feeling at her hair and face. Instantly, Melika grabbed a perfume bottle of the most smelly stuff she had and sprayed Sharke, Werdin, and Chorlic with it.

“Hey! You got my eyes!”

“Hush!”

A group of [Guards] were coming. They eyed the quartet, and one of the Gnolls began sneezing at the insane amount of perfume in the air. But they didn’t pick up drugs—Werdin and Chorlic froze, then waved as Melika and Sharke breathed in and out slowly.

“Good job, Melika.”

The Dullahan patted Melika on the arm, and Lord Werdin blinked a few times. He snapped his fingers under Chorlic’s eyes, and the man started.

“What the hell did we just—? What was in those damn lanterns? I was out of my mind there, and so were you and everyone else!”

Werdin was visibly shaken too. He felt at his clothing, then nodded at Melika.

“Good work, Melika. I’m going to lodge a complaint with…! They’re still in there. Should we do something?”

“I think security will break it up soon. I don’t believe we should be anywhere near the Dragonfire Museum. We were all at our mansion if there are any arrests or…incidents. Which is where we were all night. We had a walk, and we’re going back now.”

Melika emphasized this, and they all began speed-walking back to her and Werdin’s estate. The Drake just kept turning back.

“I swear, I thought it was a good idea to just—”

“Dogwalk a [Lady] of the north?”

The idea sounded even more insane when Chorlic said it out loud. Melika couldn’t believe she’d even laughed at that.

“Who set up the night’s meeting, Chorlic? Werdin?”

“I don’t know, but whomever they are, they’ve got some explaining to do. I heard things were more edgy on the 8th, but that’s far and above…”

Sharke rubbed at the back of her neck a few times before disengaging her head; she had a bit of filth from the incense built up on her armor, and Melika needed a bath for her feathers.

“Senator Ciltrel was the heart of the room. Before you all had that huge think-session, he said he was on the rise because of new allies. Some sort of multi-city group of like-minded thinkers.”

Werdin wasn’t impressed.

“You always get those. Multi-city loyalties or someone lobbying him for support?”

Sharke shook her head.

“No, he was referencing Zeres specifically. I think it’s that new [Lady] I’ve heard rumors about. Wall Lady Shaullile and her Alliance of Free Thinkers? I’ll watch out for anything advertising their idea of fun.”

Melika hadn’t ever heard that name before. She frowned, wondering if she’d been too preoccupied with Pallassian politics recently and taken her thumb off the larger scale. Well, that damn Jelaqua…

——

The return to their estates was uneventful. Once there, Wall Lord Chorlic and Sharke departed with thanks; from the way the Wall Lord was asking if Sharke was doing anything tomorrow, his impression of her talents had deepened.

Werdin was also grateful to Melika for getting him out of there. He was clearly rattled and went off to summon a personal [Healer] who could be discreet and cleanse anything remaining.

Melika just had a bath on her patio. She washed herself thoroughly, then had the presence of mind to send a Street Runner to search for the other [Socialites] she knew.

“Gunpi, are you and the others alright?”

Gunpi, the Gnoll [Socialite]—or ‘Grumpy’ as she was nicknamed—scowled as she showed Melika the butt of her Cleansing Cigarette. She blew smoke across the servants eying the bedraggled group of mostly-female partygoers.

“Fine. We got everyone who wasn’t engaged or out-of-their-minds out. I had to actually toss a bucket of water on one couple. They thanked me before they left.”

“You’re welcome to stay the night if you don’t have places to be. Werdin’s calling for a [Healer]. Drinks, food?”

The troupe marched into Melika’s sitting room with gratitude. Melika knew most of the older [Socialites], and even if they’d had rivalries, well, they were in the same boat. She’d landed a husband and power, they hadn’t.

Grumpy Gunpi, who was on the edge of being young enough to do this song and dance, was smoking on the balcony with one of the young women that Melika vaguely recognized. She frowned at the young woman, wondering where…

“That was ugly in there. I’ve never seen it that bad, and I’ve been doing this a decade longer than you, Melika. Worse, though, was that they were into it. That wasn’t someone overdoing the dosings. The longer you stayed in there, the more you felt like everyone was a genius. If they’re not arrested, I think half that lot will want to go back for a round two. Me, if I sniff that cocktail twice, I’m walking out.”

Melika nodded. She eyed the newcomer, whom she didn’t recall from the 8th Floor gathering at all. Yet again, they had met somewhere. The girl was drinking a goat’s milk and gasping for air.

“It was a bad scene. Sharke thought it had to do with a Wall Lady in Zeres…? But I didn’t ask her why she was so specific.”

The young woman glanced up, and Gunpi raised one brow.

“Hm? Oh, that’s a good guess. I know who she’s talking about even if I’m too addled for the name. She uses a lot of drugs, I’ve heard. Some of the most outrageous ‘parties’ you’ve heard of. Real deep stuff. The kind where you wear a mask and illusion spell and deny knowing about it.”

Melika shivered. That was too deep for her. The most she’d gotten up to in her youth was a few drunken encounters behind a couch or in the curtains where you might get caught out.

“Well, we have plenty of rooms for the night. Who’s this? What happened to that new girl, Lilac?”

She peered at the young woman, who was distinctly Human. She seemed…well, she was definitely some kind of [Charmer], and Grumpy Gunpi bared her teeth in an amused smile.

“That’s the one funny part about tonight. We hustled everyone out, and guess who was so addled she accidentally dropped whatever illusion spell she had on?”

She pinched the cheek of the young woman and got a yelp.

“Hey! Stop that! I’m sorry! Thank you for helping with—with—”

Melika put on her best ‘I am serious and adult’ face and put her hands on her hips.

“If you’re going to do that again, young woman, you’d better listen to Grumpy—I mean, Gunpi here.”

Gunpi tried to step on her toes as the young woman blushed.

“Thank you. I was just…I’m Rose.”

“Sure you are.”

Both Melika and Gunpi chorused. The young woman nearly dropped her goat’s milk.

“No, I am!”

Melika patted her on the head. She thought the girl was far too young for this, but she’d been that age or younger herself when…

Wait a second. Her eyes narrowed as she recalled seeing Rose with Jelaqua! Melika had been so hammered drunk she’d assumed that Rose was just another [Socialite]. Well, well. She held her tongue on that meeting, but it made her fix Rose in her memory. [Special Contacts List]—someone to take note of.

Gunpi slung an arm around the girl’s shoulder.

“Yes, yes, and I used to call myself ‘Nightfur’. At least you weren’t stupid enough to drink. Let’s get you inside before I figure out if you’re a new fish or just never ran into that before. By the by, Melika. What’s going on with Sinew Magus Grimalkin?”

Rose turned as Melika grimaced.

“Oh, that. Given how insane the night was, I think nothing much. It’s clear that they believe Pallass needs to make sure he’s loyal, but exactly how, no one had a good idea for. You should have heard the things they wanted him or that [Lady] to do.”

Gunpi nodded, face half-shadowed.

“Must be hard. I think someone wrote on his gymnasium wall this morning. ‘Traitor’ or something—”

“Grimalkin’s no—”

The Gnoll woman put a hand over Rose’s mouth.

“Yes, yes, kid. The adults are talking. Melika knows the real movers and shakers. Melika?”

The Garuda sighed.

“If you’d ever met the man, you’d know he’s like a rock. Unshakable! I’m going to advise Werdin tomorrow to take a soft touch with him. All this negativity he’s going to get is bad enough. The worst thing would be to push him away.”

As a citizen of Pallass, and a [Socialite], that was her take. Let the south rage at him; they didn’t see that genuine affection she’d seen—and been jealous of—when he gazed at Lady Pryde. Gunpi nodded, but with a frown.

“Yeah, get me someone who looks at me with a bag over my head like that. That’s good. So…they’re not doing anything right now?”

Something about the way she said that made Melika pause and her wingfeathers itch.

“No. Why?”

“Well, I swore I heard Sir Relz calling for a City Runner as I went out. Something about ‘sending Grimalkin a plan of action’? But they were arguing over who sold the best accessories first. Something about either wristbands or chokers.”

Melika’s beak opened. She stood there in such horror that Rose and Gunpi grew alarmed. Then she squawked and took off, flying into one of the patio doors, then through the mansion, shouting for Werdin. By the time he came stumbling downstairs in a bathrobe and heard her out, it was too late of course. Even with a [Message] to the Runner’s Guild…

——

Lady Pryde Ulta was reading letters in her rooms in Grimalkin’s mansion. He’d accorded her rooms because she should have a place that was her own, even if she preferred not to be alone. It was that curious thoughtfulness that she liked in him.

Well, among other things. For all his insights, he was amazingly dense in other ways. For instance, he truly hadn’t anticipated the reaction to his speech on live television.

She had.

She’d been prepared for this the moment she’d realized he wouldn’t leave and she couldn’t chase him away and didn’t want to. Say many things, but Pryde was no fool.

So, letters. Most were from predictable names. Some were unpleasant, friends she’d thought she had, but she read them, then made notes. She also filled a magical trashbin that had a storage spell on it, thankfully.

Too many black roses for any regular wastebasket. Lady Pryde smiled as she came to one letter she did like. It was from Wuvren and simply read.

My dear, you’re head-over-heels, aren’t you? You must come by to tell me all about it. Don’t falter now! Love and kisses,

-W.

For a woman she’d never gotten along with out of jealousy and other reasons, Pryde really appreciated it. She touched the black lipstick mark and then added it to her ‘save’ letters. Even Magnolia had written a letter in pink.

Pryde nearly tore the one up that said from ‘House Walchaís’. But after a moment, she placed it to the side, unopened. She glanced out the window, wondering if the crowd would be back tomorrow; the Watch had dispersed them, but it would get worse.

She was content, but was he…? That was where Pryde’s confidence faltered. She glanced towards the other room where she’d heard Grimalkin return.

“Grimalkin? Was it an emergency?”

“Just a letter. Normally the Runner’s Guild filters the spam.”

“Oh. Anything important?”

——

Sinew Magus Grimalkin read the untidy handwriting and the signatures on the bottom of the letter addressed to him.

From ‘concerned members of Pallass’. He read the letter three times, forcing himself to read each sentence and commit it to memory, though it burned him more than profane magics to memorize.

One should remember what was said, perfectly. Especially when the stakes were important, and this letter was written and signed with that intent. Even if it stank of substances that he suspected were highly illicit—

Well, the Watch wouldn’t take this as proof anyways. And I didn’t trace the Street Runner’s path. I wonder if I could.

Those were absent thoughts on the edge of the Sinew Magus’s [Calm]-enforced discipline. After the third re-read, he shredded the letter with his claws.

“Nothing, Pryde. How are you doing?”

He placed the remains under a book on his desk and walked to her rooms. Rather to his unpleasant surprise, he found her sitting on her bed with a pile of empty envelopes she was kicking into the wastebin. They covered the black flowers, and he opened his mouth to say something—

Then saw the same yellow letter in her hands he had just shredded. He whirled.

“How—? Did they send a second—?”

His blood boiled, but the [Lady] just raised an eyebrow at him. And he remembered. Soft power classes were the most annoying to fight everywhere.

“If I thought it would help, I’d do it. I have heard of similar things being done in the north with poor Drakes and Gnolls, if not so explicit.”

That was all she said as he snatched the letter back. Grimalkin began to shout, then modulated his voice.

“I would never ask—I would never permit such a thing.”

Her gaze softened, and Lady Pryde got up. She put her hands delicately on his arms, as if he were the fragile one. Few people treated him like that. Only her.

“Oh, Grimalkin. You should have known it would be difficult.”

“There is no reasoning behind it. No logical reasoning—I have debated those willing to engage in civil discussion. Are we a species ruled by mindless, reactionary bigotry or logic and evidence?”

“Do you want the answer to that?”

He thought she was teasing him until he saw the sympathetic look in her eyes. Grimalkin sat down on her bed.

“I thought Erin Solstice was the only one who could deliver truths capable of breaking one’s spirit in a few words. The notion my own city could do the same is…disheartening.”

“It’s not all of them.”

“No. No, of course not.”

He tried to reframe it, understand the numbers of those visibly detracting from…it didn’t work. Lady Pryde leaned against him and murmured.

“It will become far harder.”

She spoke without mercy or any softness. Like a jagged edge of salt that her people mined, and it stung in his open wounds. But the Sinew Magus of Pallass just gazed at her.

He didn’t say something as trite as, ‘it is still worth it’. Or, ‘I would never change my decision were this a thousand times worse’. Or…then he decided he should say those things.

It had occurred to Grimalkin, after a few conversations with Jelaqua, Nanette, and Ishkr, all of whom he regarded as superiors in the romantic realm in some way, that many problems could be avoided if he took the example of Lord Tyrion Veltras.

If the man would not say something, Grimalkin should say it and thus do the opposite of Lord Tyrion except in a few notable ways.

So, he turned to Lady Pryde and smiled. She frowned at him.

“What?”

“I am merely attempting to formulate a list of the many ways I wish to inform you of my admiration and love for you. I regret that I know so few languages in which to express my feelings.”

Her eyes widened, and he took her hands. Ah, yes.

Then all was right in the world.

But the Sinew Magus vowed not to forget. Pallass and Izril could say what it wished to him. But never sully his Pryde.

Author’s Note:

Hello and welcome to the short chapter! I have others in the pipe that need editing, but this is an interlude following up on some things after the Archmage’s duel! I told you I was getting better at them.

I’m fine releasing this for Saturday as I did put out that epilogue, so the combined word count for this week still ranges ~24,000 words. Which feels low! However, I did say all that time ago that I was trying to ‘write less’ and ‘have a healthier work-life balance’.

…Well, this is a rare instance of that. Editing is hard and a few chapters are gonna need it in-depth. This might be an edit-heavy month come to that. Anyways, hope you enjoy this one! It wasn’t a planned one but sometimes these come out.

Like wanting to show a bit of Melika’s life. Fun glimpses into the world that is vast and diverse and filled with them drugs and crazy parties sometimes. Yup, yup. Well, that’s a short note for a short chapter! See you next week! The next chapter will be…far longer. If I can edit it. It’s a tricky one.

<Innktober continues! This is the Palace of Fates and Couriers!>

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