Teleporter journeys grew more manageable with exposure, so Silas was in far better shape this time when he stepped out to Léonois. He emerged into a cathedral, seemingly a damaged one as parts of the building were in terrible shape. However, the surviving stained glass windows flooded the inside with coloured light. There was an armed squadron stationed inside the cathedral, and they roused to his arrival. A woman neared him and looked him over. “Name?” Given her authoritative tone, he figured she was the one in charge here.

“Silas Wycliffe,” he answered.

“Ah, Vivienne’s been expecting you.” She looked around the cathedral, then shrugged. “I suppose I should be the one to take you.”

“When you’re ready.”

“Pfft,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Let’s get this done with quickly.” True to her words, the woman whizzed him out and through Léonois, where he realised it was more a town in line with New Derby or Riverside than a city on Brightmoor’s level. They were on an elevated plain from which he could see the rest of the settlement, including a toppled-over Eiffel Tower some parts away in the lower level. The citizens appeared untroubled by such a fact since they streamed by without giving it a second glance.

“How did that happen?” Silas asked his escort, pointing.

“Oh, you know, Vivienne founded Léonois here after finding that. Must have been brought down during the planet fusion or whatever. Anyway, she didn’t have much love for Paris, which is why she named the settlement Léonois instead of respecting the world-famous landmark. Rubbed some people the wrong way at the start, but they soon had bigger things to cry about.” The woman paused. “Besides, Vivienne’s not the type to back down to pressure.”

Soon after she finished, she came to a mansion, which she smiled and waved her palms at. “And now you’re off my hands.”

He nodded and scanned the area, noticing how well-maintained the entire street was and how guarded it was: clearly, this was where the big-shots lived. One of the guards took over in showing him the remainder of the way, swiftly bringing him into a massive, richly decorated lounge. There was a chandelier hanging off the ceiling and sofas scattered about on the floor. There several people here, but only two he recognised: Volkan, on a sofa with a woman, watching a movie on the giant TV, and Vivienne, seated on a sweeping Persian rug, scratching what he swore was a tiger. All the occupants turned to regard the new arrival, but most looked away right after, finding more engagement in the TV.

Vivienne rose from the rug, and Silas saw that her pet was indeed a tiger, only it was twice the size of an adult one from Earth. Its muscles were like bulging watermelons, its coat groomed and splendid, its eyes predatory but wary. “About time you got here,” she said, stealing his attention from the crouching tiger.

“I came as soon as I heard the message,” he replied.

“You should have sent an envoy to Brightmoor sooner, then. I sent the message later that day we spoke.” She shrugged. “Oh well, you’re here now.”

“And my sister?”

“I wanted to tell you in person that she has been captured.” Silas had not thought Vivienne the humorous type, but hearing these words, he desperately wished she was. All the same, her face maintained its stern and mostly unaffected quality. “We’ve had some drakkar issues while I was at the congress, and it appears your sister was in one of the forces to go deal with it. Turns out it was a trap.”

“But she is alive?” he asked cautiously, almost scared for what he would hear. From the side, the tiger slowly cringed away from him, no doubt sensing the violent pulsing of his aura. The rest of the room quietened as well as Volkan paused the movie, causing many to turn their heads to regard the heated conversation.

Even Vivienne reacted, her expression softening as she held up a hand to reassure him. The other opened her citizen’s list, scrolling some ways until she reached the name. “Yep, Chloe Wycliffe, still alive.”

“So why have you not launched a rescue mission to save her and the rest?” he asked, keeping his voice as level as he could. The guards hadn’t disarmed him, and while it was true that the Silas from the past wouldn’t have dared to start something in an occupied room in foreign territory, he had since found a source of confidence.

Perhaps sensing the threatening undertone in his voice, Vivienne’s face hardened again. “Because I won’t be doing anything of the sort. When I move to attack those drakkar, it will be to decimate them and raze everything they hold dear. As you can guess, the second I start, they’ll kill the prisoners, so I was waiting on you in case you wanted to try and save your sister first.”

“You don’t want to rescue your people?” he asked, frowning hard.

“If I could, I would. But I can’t, so I won’t bother to. The drakkar will only release those prisoners in return for my dragon. That will not be happening, so the only option left is to thoroughly destroy them.”

“What can I do then? You know more about this situation. Is it possible to sneak in?” he asked. There was no use butting heads with Vivienne as he recalled the soldier’s words from before; better he focused on saving Chloe.

“You won’t need to. They have a strange honour system, where you have a right to demand the release of a prisoner as long as you are of that prisoner’s clan. You meet that requirement, being family, so all you have to do is pass their trial of combat to have Chloe back,” Vivienne said.

He doubtfully raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any guarantee they actually honour this custom?”

“Sure, some people tried it while I was still in Brightmoor. They didn’t succeed, but those who accompanied them were allowed to leave with their lives. Kasim was there,” she said, turning and pointing at a man fiddling with a ukelele-type of instrument. Silas didn’t recognise it, but he figured it was an instrument from the man’s culture based on the familiarity his deft fingers displayed. When called by name, the man raised his head and offered an easy smile. He was lean with fine features and olive skin, dressed in a red coat over a white shirt and dark baggy trousers that gathered tightly at his ankles. Thin slippers coated his underfoot.

“And you refuse to give up this dragon of yours?” Silas asked again, internally already knowing the answer.

“I don’t negotiate with terrorists,” she replied.

He sighed, looking to Kasim. “If you wouldn’t mind showing me to these drakkar then, I’d really appreciate it.”

Kasim stood and walked over, his slippers almost noiseless against the floor. “It would be a pleasure; I expect it to be a grand tale worth singing in chimneys and down rabbit holes.”

Silas blinked, then supposed he had misheard and let it pass. “I know you’re touchy about letting people come here, but you wouldn’t mind if I called some people over to help me with this mission, would you?” he asked Vivienne.

She dipped her head. “Go ahead. I’ll make an exception for this. When can I expect you to return with your companions? The drakkar will wait at most two days before killing the prisoners.”

Silas didn’t answer, instead taking a manastone from his pocket and crushing it in his hand. There was a magical pulse, and everyone in the room regarded him with a mix of hostility and caution, wary over what he was doing. A handful of seconds later, a man-giant-sized portal tore open the space beside Silas. Out of it stepped Ajit, grinning widely at the room, then Aengus, followed by Mia, and finally Bandit who swooped through just before the portal winked out of sight.

“I thought I told you not to bring him,” Silas said, staring at the owl who flapped around the lounge, immediately making for the chandelier as a roost. It hooted from there, scanning the room, before resting its gaze on the tiger, a twinkle in its eyes.

“Oh, he’s just such a charming fellow,” Ajit said with a body-shaking guffaw, “Couldn’t deny him. Now I hope these people aren’t giving you trouble.”

“No,” Silas said after a moment. “We’re on a rescue mission. Thought it’s best if you all hear the details before we go.”

Meanwhile, Vivienne was considering Bandit with great interest, perhaps even an inkling of desire, before looking to Ajit and Aengus. From the second they had appeared, the whole power dynamic in the room had gravitated towards them. “I had expected to destroy the drakkar base after all this was done, but now that you’re here, perhaps there won’t be anything left for me to do afterwards.”

“You flatter me,” Ajit said, looking and sounding too pleased with himself. “I see that my reputation precedes my own presence.”

Aengus scoffed. “She’s just worried you’ll stamp too hard and cause an earthquake. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Since the congress, Aengus and Ajit had joined Silas back to Riverside, the former saying he wanted to visit his friends, the latter saying that the friends of a friend were, in fact, his friends too. Either way, Silas and Mia had happily received them in their home. Aengus, obsessed with battle, had sought out every notable person in Riverside to duel, handidly winning every time. Then he had crawled back to Silas, unable to forget his duels with him. It came as a surprise to both of them when Silas dominated the fight, but since then Aengus had improved at a blistering pace, although still unable to defeat the Duellist who similarly sharpened his instincts through combat with the Master of War.

But while their relationship was like one between competing peers, Ajit’s and Mia’s was clearly one between a teacher and student. Silas had been right in his initial assessment of the Warlock’s aura; he was beyond human levels of arcane power. In fact, it was to the point that he and Mia had discussed whether Ajit alone could simultaneously take on every sorcerer in Riverside - they had ended with a worrying conclusion. Besides from occasionally demonstrating his craft and instructing of it, Ajit had spent the rest of his time cooking up feasts in their kitchen and seeking out all the delicacies Riverside had to offer. He too had become a massive fan of Goblinz Blood, whereas Aengus called it sweetened pisswater.

Either way, just before Silas had left for Léonois, Ajit had handed him an altered manastone - its only proper function being to send a signal back to the Warlock - in case he got into a spot of trouble. Which brought them back to the present as they all stared at the dragon splashing about in Vivienne’s garden with various levels of wonder on their faces. It was the size of three horses and dark-scaled, although it glinted emerald green when the sun beamed over it. It had a long neck and giant wings, with enough overall bulk to contest an elephant.

“So this is related to the drakkar?” Mia asked.

“No, I don’t believe so,” Vivienne answered, calling out to it. It peered over with bright onyx eyes and bounded over. Bandit sprang back into the room, peeking from the sides of a cabinet, while the humans watched as Vivienne caught the dragon and rubbed its snout. “They’re from Xiivet, whereas Mirza’s from Caen. But if I understand correctly, they still consider her a cousin of there’s.”

“Can she breathe fire?” Aengus asked, reaching out and touching Mirza too. It reared its head towards him, peering in curiously, to which he grinned. It suddenly looked away and tensed as if frightened.

“A small stream, sure. But she’s a child which is why, I suspect, they want her too. I heard they tried to talk with the adult dragons of her kind, who proceeded to just swallow them whole.” Vivienne said, cooing softly at the dragon to encourage it out of its fear. “So now they’re trying to get them young.”

“Well, it would break my big heart to see her taken from you,” Ajit announced with a tone of splendour. “Best we go deal with those drakkar, then.”