The night after the prisoner exchange...

Rather indecently dressed, wrapped in blankets and heavy furs, Antigones and Titania were engaging in a favourite pastime of theirs.

Making two magically-controlled figurines in a toy duelling beat each other up with wooden controllers.

Wealthy Alavari had often the latest access to some magical toys that were rather unique. They included self-moving wooden horses, castles that could be demolished and rebuilt, and ball games played with a hovering ball.

In this case, this game was called Battle Avatars, or Battle-tars for short. The pair of wooden figurines knocking the socks off one another had runes carved into it to make them move, and even had their own weapons like swords. The players controlled them with two wooden toggles with buttons that they could press. Once one figurine had taken too much damage, it would slump to the ground.

“How can you mash those buttons so, quickly!” Titania squealed as her orc figure staggered backward.

Antigones resisted the temptation to stroke his beard. He settled for having his troll figure whack Titania’s figurine again. “What can I say? I have very dexterous fingers!”

“You dirty pervert!”

“You’re a dirty pervert!”

“Old lech!”

“Horny trorc!”

“Ha! I got you now—”

“Nope!”

Titania groaned as Antigones’s figurine popped her with a punch to the face and her figurine slumped to the ground. Her husband grinned. “I win.”

“Best out of twenty-one!” Titania whined.

Antigones smiled and ruffled Titania’s hair. She pouted at that but didn’t stop him. “Any other day and I’d love to, dear, but I am trying to win a war and we both need sleep.”

“I know. Thanks for playing with me.” The princess slid over to wrap her arms around her burly husband. “The attack today went well, though.”

Antigones nodded. “Yes, they’ve abandoned their first defence line entirely, but we still have a lot of Erlenberg left to conquer. Helias seems to have been thoroughly scared off by our warning.”

“He is a professional, I’ll give him that.” The pair put their game aside and slid their covers over them. Titania shuffled into a little spoon position so Antigones could wrap his arms around her. “Bastard’s still a sick fucker.”

Antigones chuckled. “Agreed wholeheartedly. Goodnight, dear.”

“Goodnight—”

“General? Princess? I’m sorry to bother you, but we just got a Royal Courier.”

Titania and Antigones groaned or cursed in unison. Sliding out of the bedroll, the trorc slipped on a simple dress with practiced ease. Her husband rubbed his temples.

“Your father has the worst timing, even when he doesn’t mean to.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave the courier specific orders to show up at the time they did.” Titania walked to the tent flap and opened it to one of their trusted guards, along with the rain-soaked courier, a centaur. She winced, at least their guards had little guard awnings that allowed them to stay dry. The courier had ridden all night in this horrid weather.

“Your Highness, message from the King,” gasped the centaur.

“Thank you, go get some rest.” Titania took the message, checked the unbroken seal and the image of a hammer with a crown, the sigil of the Greyhammer dynasty. She retreated into the tent and broke the seal, muttering the passphrase to activate the magic on the paper. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to read the orders.

“What is your father asking you to do this time?” Antigones asked, standing beside his wife so that they were touching arms.

Titania sighed as she read the message. “Assassination mission. He wants me to take out Alexander Windwhistler, the city of Erlenberg’s Commander, and if possible, former Baroness Elowise.”

“Oh how very reasonable of him.” The orc general’s voice was dry as sandpaper. “Ask his daughter to infiltrate a city crawling with guards and some rather deadly war mages. One of whom is Allaniel’s daughter!”

Titania arched an eyebrow. “You know he actually has a point this time, right? Alexander and Elowise have been doing marvellously. If they hadn’t put him in charge, Erlenberg would have fallen ages ago, even without mages like Frances Windwhistler, Ayax or that Ophelia Voidsailor.”

“Please don’t remind me of that crazy orange mage at this hour. I’ve got officers now babbling about lightning bolts and multicoloured explosions.” Antigones pursed his lips. “That and the prisoners that got returned can’t help but gossip on how humane the Lightning Battalion has been. I am flatly overjoyed that they were treated so well. I am not happy at how poorly this looks on the army.”

Titania turned to her husband. “By the way dear, if you want to talk about Allaniel—”

“Not yet. I… I’m still not over how he died.” The orc general briefly closed his eyes. “He was supposed to be retired! Safe with his wife and daughter. He didn’t deserve that.”

The princess nodded, grimacing. Something irked her about the way that Allaniel had died, though that made her file away that information for future investigation. Still, now was not the time.

“Back to the topic at hand, Alexander has to be eliminated. We cut the head off, and no matter how good their mages and Otherworlders are, they won’t be able to coordinate.” The trorc pressed her husband’s hand to her shoulder, smiling. “Can I take my usual team?”

The orc general took a deep breath and nodded. “Of course. Be careful, though.”

“You know I always am.” Titania fluttered her lashes and slowly slipped the dress off. “Before I leave, though… I want to make sure you miss me.”

Antigones smirked. “You sure it won’t be the other way around?”

“Put those fingers you’re so proud of to work already,” Titania hissed.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

A day later...

Alexander studied the teenagers in front of him, eyes glancing back at the notes and plans that were strewn across the table. “No. Elowise?”

Elowise shook her head as well. “I agree. I can’t approve this plan either.”

Ayax sighed. “Dad—”

“Look, I want Helias dead too and I like the plan. Plus, since we have done the prisoner trade, there’s no risk involved in carrying out this mission, but you have a key flaw that you can’t solve.” Alexander stood up and pointed to a map of Erlenberg and its surrounding areas. “Do you know what it is?”

Running a hand through her red hair, Ginger groaned. “We do.”

Some time ago…

“So we’re all in agreement? Helias has to die?” Elizabeth asked the group.

Frances, Martin, Ayax and Ginger all nodded. They were gathered in front of a map of Erlenberg and the surrounding areas.

Nodding, Elizabeth twirled a lock of her black hair. “Alright, so how do we accomplish this?”

“I have been thinking of a few ideas too,” said Martin. He pointed at the field south of Erlenberg. “Helias’s camp is here. If we are landed by our ships south of the camp at night, we can hit him in a direction he’s not prepared for.”

“The problem is that we’d need to get back under fire, again. We know how dangerous that was from Greensands.” Hands on her hips, Ginger closed her eyes. “Honestly, our biggest problem with any plan is that getting out once we’ve done the deed is extremely hard.”

“What if we use disguises? I talked to Ophelia last night. She said she and some other mages had some glamour and disguise spells we could use to infiltrate the camp,” said Frances.

“How late was that?” Elizabeth asked, frowning.

“Um, a bit late.” Frances sank into her seat as her friends arched eyebrows at her. “The problem is that while getting in might be easier, we’ll still have a problem getting out.”

“What if we use glamour and the landing at the same time?” Ayax asked. “That’ll make it harder for them to figure out we’re infiltrating the camp.”

Martin nodded. “We’ll have to keep it a small team, but while the battalion prepares our escape, we’ll kill Helias and make for them.”

“Okay, but how are we escaping?” Elizabeth asked.

Frances pursed her lips. “I think we’ll have to depend on not tripping the alarm and using the disguise spells to get out. We’ll plot multiple routes so we don’t all get caught, but we’re going to have to mostly extract at the beach where we land.”

“This doesn’t solve our escape problem, though,” Ginger pointed out.

Martin grimaced. “Yeah, but it’s the best we have and Helias has to die.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Right, let’s work this out in detail.”

Alexander sighed. “Look, it is a good plan. If you can figure out a way to cover your retreat, then I’ll approve it, but only when you do.”

Elowise smiled, arms crossed. “I know you’re frustrated and angry, and Helias does have to die, but we can’t afford to lose any of you. Think about it a little longer and maybe you’ll figure something out.”

The teens glanced at one another. Unsaid was how they didn’t have much hope on finding another solution. They’d spent all their free time before the prisoner exchange three days ago, and between battles, wracking brains after their initial discussion. This had been their best shot.

“Yes, sir,” said Elizabeth. With that, the teens filed out of the room. They were so tired and exhausted they didn’t realize that the guards normally outside of the meeting room were conspicuously absent. They also completely missed a smiling trorc entering the room and closing the door behind her.

However, while the teens didn’t notice this, something else did.

Frances was lost in thought, trying to think of a way to make their assassination plan work, when she felt Ivy’s Sting tremble on her waist. It wasn’t the subtle thrum of eagerness, it was a violent shaking that sent shivers through the leather holster. Grabbing her wand, Frances felt herself blasted with images and knowledge. It was as if she was looking through a fish-eye lens whilst having words screamed into her head.

“Frances? What’s wrong?” Martin demanded.

“I… I don’t know. Ivy’s Sting, she’s showing me something I… I don’t understand.” Frances turned around. “Someone’s in danger, right here. The… wait, where are the guards?”

A cold shiver ran up the teens spines’.

Elizabeth drew her war hammer. “Ginger the alarm!”

“On it!” shouted the redhead, already tearing down the hallway.

“I got your backs.” Martin declared.

“Ayax, Frances, with me!” Elizabeth ordered.

“Aye!” said Ayax.

“Right behind you,” said Frances, following her friends as they jogged back toward the office. To their relief, they saw four other guards, three orcs and a troll, with blue and grey Erlenberg uniforms running up.

“Hey! We think someone’s trying to kill the commander-in-chief. Can two of you raise the alarm, and the rest of you back us up?” Elizabeth asked.

The lone troll frowned. “Kill the commander? That’s ridiculous!”

The teens glanced at Frances, who nodded. She trusted Ivy’s Sting and even now, her wand was screaming danger.

“Look, he’s my dad, we can just check in on him. He wouldn’t mind,” said Ayax, striding towards the door.

Frances noticed the guards glance at one another, and their muscles tense. She suddenly realized just then that none of the guards were human. Hair on end, she drew Ivy’s Sting, keeping her attention on the guards as Ayax reached for the doorhandle.

The guards suddenly drew their swords and leapt at them. Screaming a note, Frances managed to grab the guard going for Ayax and pull him off balance. Her cousin, shocked, staggered back, just managing to block the orc’s counter-swing.

Elizabeth bulled into the orc, Otherworlder strength tossing him backwards. She didn’t have her shield, having not thought to bring it, but she did have her armour on. Ayax, recovering quickly, engaged the other two attackers.

“Cuz, get to the room!” Ayax screamed. Switching her grip on the staff to a pike-style grip, she parried the blows of her two orc opponents. Elizabeth was duelling the troll, her warhammer a blur as she pressed forward, trying to put the troll down.

Frances didn’t stay to watch any further, she yelled a note and blasted the door open, running in and taking in the scene.

Alexander was down, crawling towards her. One arm clutching his blood-soaked shoulder. Meanwhile, Elowise was flying across the map table. The centaur knocked aside unit flags and models of buildings as she careened almost cartoonishly across the room and slammed into the wall. The trorc that had entered the room was grinning viciously. Her hand wielded a crooked wand, and her left hand a short sword.

Making a snap decision, Frances sung a quick healing at Alexander to seal the wounds he had. She knew that would draw the attacker’s attention, and as the trorc turned, Frances already was raising her diamond ring to project a shield. She’d worn her magical brigandine, but she had no idea how strong this assassin was and didn’t want to needlessly activate her armour.

The trorc fired a bolt of red that slammed into Frances’s shield with a force that sent daggers of pain piercing through her head. Gasping, Frances sank into song, her thoughts one with Ivy’s Sting, she threw chairs at the enemy mage, even as she thought of her next spell. The trorc didn’t block them. Instead, the Alavari moved with a gracefulness that belied her tall height, dodging the flying chairs with centimeters to spare. She leapt onto the table and raced to close the distance.

Frances backed away, casting quickly. A fireball that the trorc redirected was followed by a blinding blast of light, and a quick levitation spell to flip the table. The assassin was blinded by the light, but somehow, moving as if by instinct, clung onto the table’s edge, and rolled it before the table fell over and smashed into the floor with a rattling thud.

There was no time to panic at this improbable feat. Frances knew that she was facing a very tough mage, with amazing athleticism. That and the trorc had landed on her feet, and was sprinting towards her.

Every spell Frances knew and a few she came up on the spot came to mind. She blocked the vial the trorc threw, wrapping it in a bubble of force to contain the green liquid that burst, and turned the carpet under her feet black. She ripped the carpet underneath the trorc’s feet, but the trorc managed to regain her footing and riposte with a bolt of red magic. Frances deflected that bolt off her magic shield, ignoring the wave of concussive force that impacted somewhere behind her, and replied. A quickly cast blast of wind that the trorc hissed out a Word of Power that threw up a red shield.

Back and forth, spells flew at a furious pace, the two women circling one another, slinging magic and objects at one another. Frances remaining relatively immobile behind her shields, whilst the assassin dodged and weaved.

Suddenly, Frances realized why. The assassin was trying to close the distance. The trorc was getting glancing hits by spells, but in return, she was getting closer and closer to her. At that range, Frances knew she was going to be dead to the assassin’s shortsword.

Frances tried to yank the assassin away, but she yelled a Word of Power to counter the levitation and lunged forwards. Frances scrambled backwards, firing wild bolts of her light blue magic, and diving right into her lightning spell. She wouldn’t be able to get a full cast, but if she could shock her opponent, maybe she might have a chance.

However, the trorc threw up a shield and smashed right through her magical bolts, and retaliated with a point-blank spell. Frances’s ring-focused shield cracked and broke, red magic slammed into her armour and she screamed as pain shot through every fibre in her body. Somehow, Frances didn’t lose complete focus on her lightning spell and continued to sing, but the trorc was too close, and her shortsword was raised.

Except the slash didn’t come down. The trorc froze and stared at Frances. No, not at Frances, but at her wand.

Frances had no idea what just happened, but she didn’t let that chance go to waist. She screamed the keynote to her spell. The trorc’s eyes widened and she raised her wand. A red shield shimmered, but was smashed apart by the lightning, which struck the assassin and sent her flying backwards. The trorc somehow managed to land on her feet, but smoke was pouring off her, and she was twitching uncontrollably.

Gasping at the power she’d exerted, Frances staggered forward pointing her wand at the groaning assassin.

“Surrender. Don’t make this any harder on yourself.”

The assassin spat on the ground, hands still clutching “How are you using Ivy’s Sting? How did you come by that cursed wand?”

Her eyes widening, Frances clutched her wand tightly. “What does it matter to you?”

Blue-green eyes, full of pain glared back at Frances. “That wand should be snapped for what it’s done! For all the torture and pain its inflicted!”

Frances felt a pulse of grief and guilt from her wand, and reached out to comfort it. Yet, that burst of sorrow from her oldest friend ignited an indignation long stewing in the small girl’s heart.

“Says the assassin, invader and accessory to the murder of children!” Frances whipped her wand to position. Rage fueled her song, shrieking out from her throat like a banshee. “Last chance!”

The trorc sneered and stood to her feet. “Until the next time we meet, Frances Windwhistler.” She reached into her pouch and threw a vial that Frances manage to grab in her magic. It was a distraction for the trorc to throw a second object onto the ground. The object, a small bottle, exploded on the ground with a deafening crack and surrounded the trorc in smoke.

Frances released the fire spell she’d been building, the fire washing away the smoke. It revealed the assassin standing by a hole in the wall, made by the duel that they’d been fighting.

“I, Princess Titania Greyhammer of the Alavari, will not be so merciful next time.” With those words, Titania hurled another spell at Frances. As the girl through magic into her brigantine to summon its automatic defenses, the woman leapt from the window and disappeared from view.

The brown-haired girl thought about pursuing, but Alexander and Elowise were still on the floor. They hadn’t gotten up and Frances decided they needed to be stabilized first.

The door slammed open. Frances whirled around to find Elizabeth and Ayax panting, more Erlenbergian guards behind them.

“Group we were fighting ran away. Is everything—” Ayax saw her father on the ground, in his own blood. Her staff clattered to the ground.

Frances ran to Alexander, checking the troll’s vitals. “He’s not dead. Ayax?” Thunk. Her cousin was kneeling on the ground. The troll’s wide black eyes were tearing up, but she wasn’t making a sound, and her face was frozen in a stoic mask.

“Elizabeth?” Frances asked, she didn’t have the time, she had to look over Alexander right now.

The Korean girl was already wrapping her arms around the troll. “I got her. Ayax sweetie, your father is going to be fine.”

Martin was a second behind them, slamming the door open. “The medics are coming. Frances, what do you need me to do?”

“Check on Elowise, hurry,” Frances ordered. She took a deep breath and raised Ivy’s Sting. This wasn’t going to be easy. Alexander had fought the assassin as best he could, but she’d inflicted deep wounds.

The assassin, who was a princess and Timur’s sister. Frances shook her head and took a deep breath. That thought was for later, she had to save a life now.

Alavari camp…

As the rain pounded on the canvas of his tent, Antigones restlessly paced back and forth. He knew something had gone wrong. One by one, remnants of the team that he’d sent with Titania had returned, each giving individual briefings. At least one of the operatives was dead, but there was no word on whether Titania was still alive.

The tent flap was ripped open. Spinning around, Antigones almost moaned with relief as he saw his wife, only to gasp at the state she was in. Her armour was damaged, hair was burnt at the ends, and she was shaking violently. Two of his personal guards supported her.

“Have Lady Olgakaren take over for me! And do not let Helias know what happened,” Antigones snapped. “Titania!”

The princess staggered into the general’s arms. “I’m alive. I just… fuck, hug, the whole package, please.”

Antigones swept his wife up in his arms and deposited her on the bedroll. It’d been a while since she’d asked for ‘the whole package’ but that’s why he made sure to have a chest labelled with those very words. The orc flipped open that chest, whipped out the very fluffy blankets that he deftly wrapped around the shivering woman. Once that was done, he pulled out a bag of raisins that he handed to his wife.

Titania seized the raisins and shoved a handful in her mouth, chewing hungrily as muscled green arms gently cradled her.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now.”

The princess didn’t reply, but reached through the towels to hold Antigones’s fingers with a vice grip. They sat like that for a while, Antigones humming under his breath as he held Titania.

“It’s Ivy’s Sting,” Titania hissed.

Antigones blinked, his embrace tightening. “The wand Thorgoth used to abuse you? What about it?”

The princess pulled herself up and turned to her husband. “Frances Windwhistler has it. I have no idea how, but she’s made it work for her. I’m sorry, dear, I fucked up. Alexander’s badly hurt and Elowise is wounded, but both are going to survive.”

Antigones swallowed and kissed his love’s brow. “Hey, you still got them badly, so I’ve heard. Besides, nobody could have expected an Otherworlder to end up with the king’s named wand.”

The trorc shook her head, blinking back tears. “I know, but how the hell did she have Ivy’s Sting anyway? I didn’t even know dad gave it away! I thought he just locked that blasted thing away in a royal vault or something after he picked up his new named wand, whatever its name is.”

“Are you sure it’s Ivy’s Sting?” Antigones asked.

Titania sniffled. “Yes. It has to be. It was yew, purplish brown, fifteen-inches long. Frances so much as admitted it when I demanded what she was doing with that wand. And her spellwork… Antigones, she’s not a miniature Firehand, or the Firehand’s student, she is this generation’s Edana Firehand. When she fully matures into an adult, she’d easily be a match for me.”

Antigones held Titania to his chest, wiping her tears with the corner of the towel. “She sounds truly terrifying, but you got away, you’re alive, and you’re safe now.”

Titania took a deep breath, and snuggled under her husband’s chin, not caring how his beard tickled her ears. “Your son, Aralik, saved me, you know?”

“I don’t quite follow,” said Antigones.

The princess’s callused fingers pulled the crooked wand from its holster on her arm and pressed it to Antigones’s hand. The orc general regarded the wand, and a melancholy smile spread across his features. “Ah, Second Chance, of course.”

“If he didn’t give me Zirabelle’s named wand, I would have been downed by Frances’s lightning spell.” Titania took the wand back, and kissed it lightly. “I’m still surprised it ever gave me a chance to prove myself.”

“I’m not. It knows Zirabelle would have liked you.” Antigones sighed, touching the wand. “You know I can’t use it, but… we grieved together for some time after she died.”

Her fingers curling around her husband’s hand, whilst the wand lay in her palm, Titania felt Second Chance’s recollection of it and her husband’s grief. It told her of how a devoted wand and beloved husband mourned the death of their charge, killed in an ambush by the mad mage Ixtar the Agoniser.

Some Alavari would be jealous of their spouses having such a depth of feeling for a dead partner, but Titania didn’t feel that way. Zirabelle, also known as The Magnificent, had been one of the kingdom’s most respected mages, and an amazing woman. Yet, Titania also felt privileged that her husband, her stepson and her wand still welcomed her into their family, no matter how they felt for the woman she was replacing. That and she’d earned her bond with her husband, her friendship with his stepson, and her wand’s loyalty.

That happy thought, though, led to another, which made her frown. Out of curiosity, she projected that idea to Second Chance, who paused in thought, and agreed wholeheartedly. It even gave an urgent mental nudge to Antigones, who blinked.

“You both just thought of something.”

Titania nodded, wincing as she thought back to when she was still being trained by her father. “Yeah. I realized there’s something that doesn’t make sense. I mean, I know how I got recognized. Ivy’s Sting must have told Frances when she saw me. But Frances didn’t use Ivy’s Sting’s special ability.” Rubbing her arms, the princess exhaled. “Remember how I told you that Ivy’s Sting could create stinging vines out of nothing and until I was sixteen, he’d regularly use that to abuse me?”

The orc ran a gentle hand through his wife’s hair. “I cannot forget. It was the first time you were completely vulnerable with me.”

Titania smiled fondly at the memory, but shook her head to bring herself back to the present. “Frances never used that ability once, which is odd because… look, I know you’re not a magician, but you did pick up a few things from Zirabelle, especially about Named Wands and how they behave in concert with their wielder?”

“Not really. I only learned more after I started talking to Second Chance,” said Antigones. He stroked his beard. “I did learn that if a mage has a strong rapport with their Named Wand or Staff, they can produce astounding feats of magic. You believe Frances has a strong rapport with Ivy’s Sting.”

Titania thought back to the duel. “I think she and Ivy’s Sting have a stronger rapport that my father ever had with Ivy’s Sting.”

Antigones blinked. “Wait, she did? But she never once used that ability? Are you sure?”

Titania nodded. “Dear, fighting Frances and Ivy’s Sting was like watching Zirabelle with Second Chance together. I thought Thorgoth had a good rapport with Ivy’s Sting, but he couldn’t cast nearly as fast as Frances was and chain spells together with such rapidity.” The princess glanced at her wand. “Second Chance agrees with me.”

The orc general glanced at the wand, hearing its affirmation. “That’s high praise, and also terrifying. I almost wonder if you should have targeted Frances instead.” Antigones’s eyes narrowed. “Hold on, what does this mean then? Ivy’s Sting and Frances are clearly in concert, but Frances never used Ivy’s special ability, even when she had the opportunity to do so, which suggests they’re not in rapport. That’s two contradicting pieces of information.”

Bobbing her head, Titania nearly knocked into Antigones’s chin, but just managed to stop herself. “Yes, and that’s why we have a mystery on our hands. How can one have a good relationship with their wand, and yet not be able to use their unique ability?”

“Do you think maybe Thorgoth bent Ivy’s Sting to his will rather than actually forming a rapport with it?” Antigones asked.

“I think that’s possible, and it’s in character for him, but how could Ivy’s Sting do something that I’ve seen no wand be able to do?” Titania asked.

Neither of the pair had an answer for that, and so they sat, holding each other, in quiet contemplation, as the rain pitter-pattered against the canvas of the tent.