Mason was exhausted as he laid down in his chambers in the royal quarters after a long day of negotiations and bickering. At least the old Mason would have considered this state as exhausted. It was draining trying to keep up a cordiality with dignitaries who all thought they knew best, and who all thought they were surrounded by short-sighted fools. It wasn’t, however, quite the same as being mauled or poisoned or cut or stabbed or burned with acid.

Thankfully, a part of him was learning to count his blessings. His stomach was still warm and bulging from dinner, and all said the negotiations hadn’t gone poorly. There was, of course, the vague sense that his throat would be slit by any number of Marrans if he let his guard down in the coming weeks, and he knew the talks were far from over, but for the most part, the alliance of the Darkest Night was beginning to come together.

Bazy had drawn him aside between the negotiations and dinner to congratulate him on his efforts, and apologize for repeatedly shoving him in the line of fire, but her reward was fairly considerable. Dinner had been a feast, and he’d gotten to see all of the Biord he had vaguely befriended on his first trip here. They were friendly, though they took some time to warm up to him, but he was grateful to see them nonetheless.

When dinner was done though, all he could think about doing was finding Faynel and Leornal. Even Senkar and Sentir… hm, had he known that there were so many Sen’s around, he suddenly wondered. Family names were odd among the Marrans. It seemed last names passed down from mother to daughter or father to son, but first names swapped back and forth. That meant only last names were gendered, right? And Senkar had said he wasn’t related to Torysen, so maybe that meant Senkar and Sentir were both related somehow. He’d ask later.

That was, if he ever got to have a civil conversation with his Marran friends again. He was still part of Torysen’s Band in theory, but it was uncertain whether that standard of military organization would even be maintained with the new alliance. This city’s needs were much different than New Marra, and they had to be prepared as the Biord- or if the Biord- ever became battle competent, not to mention if they suddenly had a few thousand humans to swell their ranks.

And Mason would be lying to himself if all this talk of alliances hadn’t brought his attention quite firmly back onto the problem of what to do when the humans arrived. They would not like the arrangement he made. There was no way they would show up in The Trials and be able to understand how things worked, how critical it was that they embrace this alliance.

Plus, Mason was supposedly dropped in this world to figure out a way to prepare humanity for it, but the path he’d taken wasn’t quite easily exportable. Mastering mana had been an arduous, miserable undertaking borne of sheer necessity. If the humans can form a decent living, they won’t see the need for it. Even if they did, would they be able to adapt to mana without modifying their souls? Mason looked across the room to see his staff sitting on a short dresser, and shuddered. He could dive deeper into the mysteries of soul arts, and that might be essential in the long run, but it wouldn’t earn him any friends in the present. Not to mention it scared him half to death to think of what would happen if he went full-on Demon and rampaged again.

It was too much to think about, and the anxiety was threatening to push out all the delicious food he had stuffed himself with. Switching tracts, he shifted his perception into his soulscape and addressed his companions there.

“Given anymore thought to what we discussed, Mowrytal?” Mason asked.

This time the two, and Mason suspected mostly Geralt, had redecorated so they were on top of a large round platform that rose high above an ethereal ocean. The sky around them was red and unchanging- a perpetual sunset.

“You should not ask this of us. You should forbid it,” the Marran replied.

“Yeah, you said that before. But I’m ignoring that advice and asking you to help me. I don’t mind giving you two more freedom. Things are dangerous enough as is, and if either of you betray me I’m pretty confident Demon will take over and rip you to shreds anyways. I’ve got more to gain than lose.”

“It is a good idea,” Geralt added. He was in full battle regalia, and stood, armed, on one side of the platform, maybe a hundred feet away from where Mason and Mowry talked. Fortunately, sound didn’t actually travel in the soulscape, so they all heard each other perfectly.

“It’s a poor habit to form. Mason, you are far too trusting, and eventually you will die for it.”

“I’m asking for your help on the off-chance that it’ll delay my death. There’s too much going on at all times for me to watch my own back, and I don’t have nearly enough allies. So let me trust you two and make use of you. The very fact that you’re so hesitant to take the power is why I know I can trust you with it,” Mason said.

“You took your power over the Darkest Night fairly easily, Mason. Should they be concerned about your intentions?” Geralt asked.

Mason shrugged, “I guess I have something in common with you, Geralt. I don’t fear power. And I think I made my intentions clear. I’m going to conquer The Trials to the best of my ability because I’m pretty sure that anyone who doesn’t will end up dead quicker than they’d hope. If any of them have a problem with that then, yeah, they probably shouldn’t trust me.”

“Well said, but back to the matter at hand…”

Something jostled Mason, but it took him a moment to realize that it was a feeling in reality, not the soulscape. He switched between the perspectives so easily he had almost forgotten that his awareness could move on its own, and he felt muddled as he tried to refocus on reality. Once he did, he saw a familiar face in an unfamiliar outfit.

Faynel stared at him expectantly wearing a blue and pink tunic. It was unusually feminine for her, and when she caught him staring, she immediately rolled her eyes, “Formal clothes. There have been meetings all day, and as a daughter ‘Nel I was obviously forced to attend them. You’ve caused quite the stir.”

He bit back an automatic smile at the sight of her. Of course he’d been wanting to see her and catch up, but he thought that leaving his quarters would be both dangerous and foolish until the resettlement crisis was more resolved. However, the longer he looked at her, the more something seemed off. He flicked between Focus, Mana Sight, and was about to cast Analyze when she said abruptly, “Mason!”

“What? Oh, sorry. Yeah, so you’ve heard about the alliance? Potential alliance, I guess?” His face was still scrunched up, and he felt unsettled seeing her next to him, and it unsettled him more that he thought he’d be cheered up to see her.

She looked down when she realized what was bothering him, “I didn’t think you’d notice of all people. It’s the Glamour.” When he just looked more confused she explained, “It’s not just people in our band who can tell, after all. You’ve got a really distinctive mana signature and so the mingling did a number on mine.”

“Oh,” he said dumbly. Then, “Oh! Oh I’m so sorry. Yeah, you can glamour or whatever you need to do, I didn’t mean…” something warm flitted around his hand, and he looked down. Their hands were only inches away as they leaned toward one another on the bed, but he could feel and see a strand of mana pulling from her toward him, trying to connect with his own.

He pulled his hand away, and then she looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just presumed...”

“No, it’s fine,” he sent a tendril of mana out himself. “I just thought… isn’t this something intimate with your people?”

Her mana wrapped up with his, and the connection formed. It wasn’t a full mingling, just enough to send pulses of emotion between one another. It was strange for both of them being connected like that, but equally comforting. The intimacy was the sort of thing that, once initiated, was hard to retract from, but at the same time it wasn’t sensual in the same way that a gentle touch could be. The mingling was too honest and companionable to ever be hedonistic.

“Yeah,” she confirmed simply.

“Right.” He blushed, but he was smiling too. “So, tell me about the meetings. How many people want me dead and what were the more creative ways?”

She laughed then, “Well, Valree unsurprisingly still blames you for just about all bad things that have ever happened. Did you know that you apparently broke down the city gates yourself? Nevermind that Valree herself watched you flee off into the woods with us.”

If his eyes rolled any harder he’d probably snap a nerve, “Do you think she’s being deliberately obtuse or is she just a nut job? How did she even get offered a position of authority if she’s going to attack random political figures in the streets?”

“Everyone feels the way The Trials are dissolving rules, Mason. In her mind, she’s doing the right thing, and there’s no telling what version of the story she actually believes. The obvious fact is that she, like a lot of other people, think you’re either connected or responsible, and they’re out for blood.”

“But not you, right?”

Despite their connection, she laid her hand so their fingers overlapped, “Would I be here if I was?”

“It’d be the only reasonable place for an assassin to be. And you never actually told me why you were here.”

She just kept smiling. The feeling of his amusement was heady between them, and it relaxed her to feel it. “Well they were going to send Leornal but he and I both suggested that I might be the better option. I have a little more clout in the political sphere than the cranky old archer anyways.”

“Right, politics. I’m drowning in them already and we’ve only been in the city a short while. How much did you hear?”

She shrugged, “I heard plenty but nothing coming down the grapevine is reliable. And to hear Torysen’s own accounts you actually managed to negotiate like you knew what you were doing. Once I heard you put Eldran in his place I knew that someone had messed with her memory.”

“I think put him in is his place is a bit of an overstatement. I impressed the importance of pitching in upon him.”

“Do you know how much was offered him so that he’d pass on some of his family’s secrets when we first entered The Trials? The only one who didn’t appeal to him was Lady Sorynel herself!”

“Well she’s probably the only one who would have held some sway over him. For all his pretentious behavior, he seems to have a lot going on we don’t know about. I think he was looking for an opportunity to do something in The Trials, something real. But would you have handed over a bunch of power to someone like Valree or Manlen?”

Fire shot through their connection and poured from Faynel’s violet eyes, “He’s not that complex.”

Mason considered arguing, but the ferocity turned on him at that moment made him think better of it. “Perhaps not. But we’ll see what he does next, right? This is the age of the Darkest Night. We either fight against The Trials or die in a bunch of dank caves.”

“Hopefully he’s truly in favor of fighting,” she nodded. “So the real reason I’m here is to warn you not to leave without guards. Torysen already discussed with Bazy, but you’re supposed to approve a short list of people you trust as guards, and Bazy plans to supplement them with some of your Biord friends. We want to continue your training as well, and there’s apparently already a sparring arena that’s magically reinforced back somewhere in this labyrinth.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mason mock saluted. “Is it really so dangerous as that?”

“The resettlement is getting started, which means a great many people moving unpredictably as they find their quarters and we begin trying to figure out how to distribute mana without Sorynel, not to mention actual food and…”

“Sorynel? What does she have to do with things? I mean, I gather she’s important to your people and she’s definitely powerful but I don’t understand.”

Faynel look incredulous, “You felt the mana pouring out of her, right? She was what fed New Marra in terms of mana. She has such a strong connection to Source that she was like a reservoir of mana. We only used mana stones for when we were travelling or for when we needed more than enough to subsist on. Without her we need to begin harvesting mana from the tunnels urgently.”

“How did nobody mention this during hours and hours of negotiations?”

“Most likely they didn’t want Bazy to realize how desperate we really are. She’s playing a much more aggressive game than we ever expected, and if she realizes how much leverage she actually has, who knows what she’ll demand?”

Mason sat back and reflected on this revelation. It definitely cleared up a great deal of his confusion, but most importantly, it impressed upon him how critical it was that those negotiations move quickly, and that he break down the seals. “From what you know of New Marra’s fighting forces, how quickly do you think they could be ready to lead cautious incursions beyond the seals, if we have to have a group barricade each entrance?”

Faynel looked up as she thought about it, trying to sort through the intelligence she’d been provided and what she knew personally of the fighters, “If we’re aiming for minimal casualties, I’d say four days, especially if there are no Biord fighters at our sides. If there are some reasonably well-trained, and we can get them practicing with our groups tomorrow, possibly we could be ready in three.”

“Well, then I think that needs to be the subject of everyone’s discussions tomorrow, and hopefully by the end of the day we can get people preparing.”

A rush of excitement and joy rushed through their connection, and Faynel grabbed Mason’s hand tightly. “That is exactly what I was hoping to hear you say.”

He felt his own disposition swayed by her enthusiasm, but a critical part of his mind looked at her warily, “Are you still playing me rather than working with me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a wink. “But there’s something else to consider,” her tone shifted to serious, “We don’t know how deep the city is beyond the seals. Even talking to the Biord, we’ve got no real idea of what’s waiting for us other than that it might be a serious threat throughout a very large area. With our current forces, we might be able to push back a defensive line, but we’ve got no chance of clearing that area out.”

“What will we do if the Corrosi locate us and decide to attack while all of our forces are occupied in the tunnels?” Mason asked, quickly grasping where she was going.

“Exactly. We need to increase our forces, and quickly.”

“But the humans aren’t supposed to arrive for some time still, I’m not sure…”

“I’m not talking about the humans. We can’t continue to let people pretend this world isn’t dangerous. New Marra was defended by less than a tenth of the population. Do you think the Corrosi or Goblins let over half of their people sit around pretending they’re safe?”

“You want us to force people to fight? But what good will they even be if they’re doing it against their will? Won’t we have to expend twice as much effort drilling them and forcing them into combat? Deserters could ruin morale quickly,” Mason stood then, pacing the room as he considered the implications of the suggestion.

“It’s the only way, Mason. This isn’t civilization, it’s survival. We have a lot of enemies, and good reason to believe The Trials will send more our way. I don’t think we need to send everyone to the front lines, but we need to make sure everyone is prepared to defend themselves, and earns their keep.”

He bit his lip and looked away from her. Negotiating alliances was one thing. What did it cost Mason to demand that people get along and show each other respect?

But to demand that they fight whether they like it or not? That was a heavy burden.

“I’ll think on it. I’m not going to make this decision myself, but I will run it by several other people. I presume Torysen suggested this in the first place?”

Faynel shook her head, “It was me. But she agreed when Leornal backed me up. That’s the real reason they sent me to talk to you. You hold a lot of clout in these discussions with Bazy forcing everyone to listen to you. If you bring this up, they have to consider it.”

“Do I have to consider it?” He suddenly felt very tired.

Mason realized then that she had been gently pulsing calming emotions through their connection the whole time. She must have predicted that this was going to push him further than he was prepared to go, but her reassurances were subtle enough he might not have even noticed them if it weren’t for the burst of sorrow and fear that filled the connection before she cut it off entirely.

They stared at each other quietly for a moment, and then finally Faynel answered him, “I don’t want to see another city destroyed because we weren’t willing to make the hard choices. If it makes a Demon of all of us, wouldn’t it be worth our survival?”