Nalt discovered an unfortunate fact about being able to wield the Ceunan Aura now: Mastohlt and Wella simply wouldn't leave him alone. In Mastohlt's case, it was an absurd level of jealousy while in Wella's it was endless curiosity. She just found it impossible to believe that Nalt had managed a connection with any Aura at all.

"Look, I don't know why or how it happened, either," he explained to both of them as they ate dinner in the barracks' dining hall. "I kept hearing this voice and then... that's that."

"A voice? I say, Nalt, are you going a touch mad? Perhaps the injuries you suffered, hm?" Mastohlt mocked him.

"Mastohlt, I'm trying to figure out how to put this delicately, but the Auras aren't about how smart you are, regardless of what you might think," Wella shot back. "It's emotional. You didn't pick up using the Fire Aura because you read about it in books or anything like that. When the Auras were released, you just figured out how to do it because, for whatever reason, that worked for you. I remember because I was there!"

Mastohlt rolled his eyes.

"There was a lot more work involved than what you're saying, Wella," he bristled. "Which is why I look at our dear Nalt and wonder what he's been hiding."

"It plopped in his lap. I don't know why that bothers you more than if he worked for it," Wella laughed.

"What're you three bickering about?" Grenna called out from across the hall as she entered. "If this is some fucking chest thumping contest, I really don't want to hear it, okay?"

Despite being verbally lambasted, he was happy as ever to see Grenna. For no particular reason, Grenna had decided to wear a sharp dark blue Gadisian captain's uniform. With her dark skin and red hair, the full look was striking, if a bit strange.

"It's, um... It's nothing," he nervously let out. "Just a friendly disagreement."

"Be sure it stays that way," Grenna mumbled before her face instantly brightened. "After all, we have the new mission to think about!"

"Yes, sailing to meet with the Admiral King Sepaxo and his fleet," Wella said with palpable disinterest. "I don't fully understand why we're part of this."

Grenna shook her head and gave a dismissive flick of her hand.

"Because, my dear Wella, we have some insight as to the first of their targets: Sicahn," she said with a wink. Nalt shuddered even thinking about it after what happened last time. "Their goal is to take the city and some of the others down there along the coast to push overland toward Methrangia itself. They'll also be sending a fleet up the river, apparently, to help in attacking the capital."

"They told you all that?" Wella asked, an eyebrow raised.

"No, but I found it out anyway," she smirked. "People talk a lot around the taverns in this city. They're the sloppiest of drunks."

"You can drink damn near anyone into their graves," Nalt chimed in, recalling more than a few times she, despite being at most half his weight, and done him in. Some of those instances were so bad that "recalling" them was a term of art. It was more accurate to say that he remembered that he didn't remember what had happened.

That thought made Grenna hop in place and point a finger in the air.

"Speaking of which! Israga was nice enough to compensate us for a job well done with the Sicahn mission," she trailed off as she ran around the corner to a nearby storeroom and came back with a huge red bottle, so large that she had to hold it in both hands.

With a twirl, she spun around and placed it on the table in the most delicate manner imaginable. Then, with a flourish of her hands like an elite servant, she turned up her head and began speaking in a stilted and stuffy voice. "My dear sirs and ladies, it is with great pride that I present to you a 25-year Kivren Estates Zercal. Exquisite for the discerning palate," she bowed as she finished her surprisingly good impression. She then took on a more slouched demeanor. "Look, it's the Chancellor's booze and it's fucking expensive. I'm gonna go get Bafan and Ovigon for this."

Mastohlt, Wella, and Nalt all shared quizzical glances while she was gone, looking between each other and the opaque red bottle that was now placed in the table's center. Zercal was a rare hard liquor from Gadisia that only the highest rungs of society could afford, even of the worst Zercal. Nalt had certainly never had any and, judging from the expressions on the others' faces, neither had they. Chancellor Kivren, being a very wealthy man, had his fingers in so many trades that it wasn't a shock he would be a provider of top end Zercal on top of it all.

When Grenna returned with Bafan and Ovigon, Bafan and Grenna were laughing outrageously about something while Ovigon only allowed a slight smirk on his wrinkled face.

"Alright, there's enough there to leave us all vomiting our guts out and then some," Grenna declared as she placed a series of six glasses around the bottle. She uncorked the bottle with a heavy tug and began pouring the brilliant crimson liquor into each glass. Based on the stinging odor, Nalt braced for a long night ahead of him. Each of them grabbed a glass and raised them high. Grenna flashed an exuberant smile and clinked her glass into each of the others'. "Cheers!"

Delightful as the Zercal was, Nalt's stomach gave out after the fifth round. Poor little Wella, despite not being much smaller than Grenna, was done after three. Bafan and Mastohlt each lasted five along with Nalt. Ovigon, for an old man, gave Grenna a solid run at six glasses. After the sixth, the old man deeply sighed and shook his head before laying down on the stone floor of the dining hall. That left Grenna with not only eight glasses, but the remainder of the massive bottle. Nalt, sitting in the corner of the hall near a mop bucket, got sick just watching it. Even after he thought he was done, the throbbing nausea in the back of his head returned and he once again vomited into the mop bucket.

Grenna, laughing and swaying every which way, came over and sat down next to him.

"So, what's all this about you bein' a mage now?" she said in a continuous slur, still fairly coherent given the circumstances.

"No, not a... not a mage," Nalt managed through a belch that almost became another round of vomiting, but he suppressed it. "It's hard to explain."

She nodded along, her eyes drooping.

"Kinda came outta nowhere, didn't it?" she probed further. "Where'd... where'd you think it all came from?"

He glanced toward the opposite end of the dining hall where Mastohlt and Bafan were busy having some kind of animated drunken debate.

"Honestly?" he started, fighting back another vomit-tinged belch. "I started having dreams and I think I saw... I think I saw..."

"Go on, then. Spit it out," Grenna encouraged him, making wheel-like motions with her hands and swaying her red hair from side to side. "Not the booze. Your words."

He ran his tongue over his teeth, wiping away the remaining traces of vomit and swallowing them. Something in his mind made it feel foul to speak the name he would utter while so filthy.

"I think it was Forynda," he said. He felt absurd the instant he said it. Grenna stared back at him blankly, a dumbstruck smirk on her face. Nonetheless, he continued. "Golden eyes and voice... a voice nothing like I've ever heard before."

Grenna kept her astonished gaze upon him while her smirk only grew.

"You did get hit hard on the head!" she laughed, reaching out and pinching him on the cheek.

"I also saw her before that," Nalt said, his voice trailing off.

At that, she raised her eyebrows.

"You know, I would've thought that sounded insane even just months ago. Utterly mad. Then, of course, we did have Aberos stop us from killing the Chancellor, didn't we?" she laughed with that charming smile of hers. "Never thought you'd have an experience like that. You, of all people. Huh. I don't think I've ever seen you pray once in your life."

"When I'm desperate," he offered sheepishly. "Never thought much about it."

She shrugged and rose to her feet.

"I'm not solving this with my brain swimming in booze," Grenna sighed. "I'll see you at the docks tomorrow morning. That goes for all of you."

Without saying anything more, she walked out of the dining hall, her stride straightened as though nothing had happened to her that night. Nalt shook his head and wondered if there were some Aura of drunkenness no one knew about but her.

They sailed on the Chancellor's flagship, the Reffa Lincot, apparently named for a chancellor of Gadisia about a century prior. Ironically, he'd won a sea battle against Nitandra and that was the whole reason his name was on the ship that would meet the Nitandrans. Of course, there was an irony that Grenna and her company, who had been previously tasked with killing Chancellor Kivren, would now be part of his retinue.

Chancellor Kivren was, as a former merchant of great renown, not one to miss out on details of that nature and summoned Grenna and the rest of her crew into his luxurious quarters along with Igrasa and several members of the Harbor's Eye. Even though Nalt had seen him before in the capital, it was still startling just how large the man was. His shoulders were even wider than Nalt's and his gut protruded so far that even his flowing dark red and gold robes couldn't hide it. It defied reason that Kivren didn't just fall forward from that great drum of a belly.

"So, I hear yer the ones who tried to kill me and the whole parliament, right?" he asked, pacing in front of Grenna in his lacquered boots. Despite his staggering girth, he effortlessly maintained his footing even with the ship rocking around. He then shot a wild glance toward Grenna, his fingers working through his moderately long and wild silver hair. "Just business, eh?"

"That's about right," Grenna responded with a tight smile. "I don't apologize, but I acknowledge my prior employer was a fucking moron and I'm just ashamed I didn't dig into him a bit more."

"If ya'd asked me about Mr. Edvren, I could've saved ya the trouble," Kivren smiled, his heavy cheeks forming countless folds. "Still, as I see it, all ya did was honor yer contract. Came damn close to killin' the whole government, too. I'm more impressed than anything."

"I'm flattered," Grenna chuckled.

"Well, if Israga tells me yer fine, yer fine," he smiled and offered a perfunctory bow toward Israga. The Commander of the Harbor's Eye stood silently in her green and silver uniform and offered the faintest affirmation. "Never been one to hold a grudge. It's bad business. I just wanted ya to know that. Anyways, I was briefed on what ya'll did at Sicahn. Sounded like a tough job there."

Grenna nodded and folded her hands.

"No angels stopping us, though," she said dryly.

"Ha!" Kivren cackled and slapped his gut. "But ya ever met a Nitandran before? Eh?"

"Not in close company, no," Grenna conceded. "I've seen them at a distance, but only a distance."

That was more than Nalt ever had. The strange Nitandrans lived the better part of a thousand miles to the southeast of Kalion. He'd heard them described, but in general they kept themselves apart from the Empire, Gadisia, and almost everything else during his lifetime. Slimy and with tentacles hanging off their face was what he'd always heard.

"So, as it happens, you'll meet a bunch of 'em today," Kivren said, his tone dropping into a slightly graver mode. "I've never met the Admiral King, Sepaxo, before, but I've met his... what did they call themselves, Israga?"

"A herald," the Harbor's Eye's commander replied, without missing a beat. "Her name was Ogruxef."

"That's right. That's the one!" Kivren clapped at the recollection. "Yes. Damn weird folk and it's not just the tentacles. Oh no. Used to have a guy who, back when I was slingin' wares instead of votes, did some trading with 'em. There was money to be made there. They have nice stuff to trade. Very nice. So strange, though. Anyway, point is be polite. Don't wanna be scarin' anyone off or causing offense. I can trust ya on that, right?"

"We are at your service," Grenna smiled and nodded.

"Good. Yer gonna need to provide 'em with some knowledge of the city, its walls, defenses, and so on. I'm sure ya get it," Kivren said, wiggling his fingers almost as though he was going through a list. "We're gonna have some troops there, too, but it's Sepaxo himself takin' the lead."

"I... I look forward to it," Grenna stuttered for a moment, probably realizing as Nalt did that they would soon be talking to this Admiral King within a day. He knew the thought caused his own stomach to clench. "Should be an interesting experience."

"Israga, yer gonna be doin' that, too, of course," Kivren said, pointing a finger back to Commander Vencot, who just politely nodded to acknowledge the order. "Glad we have that all settled. Good day to ya."

Once they left his quarters and made their way back onto the deck, Grenna breathed deeply and rubbed her eyes. Nalt himself took in a deep breath of the salty sea breeze, which certainly beat the musty air of the cabin. The early spring weather was also much better than the winter conditions they had been in when they last sailed to Sicahn, so he was thankful for that blessing as well.

"Well, this'll be interesting," Grenna grumbled.

"The rest of you are too young for this, but there was a Nitandran trading ship that visited Kalion back when I was a boy," Ovigon said in his nasally voice, scratching at his balding head. His gray eyes shifted from person to person in the company to gauge their interest in what he was going to say next. "I remember them being exceedingly formal, which matches what I've read about them over the years and heard from others. Just don't grimace if one of them shakes your hand with their, um, appendage. Calling it a tentacle isn't quite right. You'll see what I mean."

Mastohlt made a face at Ovigon's description. Nalt wasn't even sure what to think. Bafan and Wella made gestures with their hands trying to imitate something that was like a tentacle, but not quite.

"Something like that," Ovigon coughed. "You'll see."

The next day, after a miserable night of trying to sleep in the ship's bunks, Nalt and the others assembled on the deck along with a full company of plated soldiers all donning seafoam-colored capes. Kivren stood at the front of a delegation of Gadisian officials, including Israga, a few military commanders whose names Grenna had rattled off but Nalt forgot, and a few diplomats, including a man named Ovga Percot. The seas were calm and the ship stable as the Admiral King's flagship, the Prince Cadafaxo sailed into view.

Nalt had only ever seen drawings of Nitandran ships. While the drawings were accurate enough, they didn't really do the vessels the justice they deserved. Their hulls were made of a local form of maleable coral native only to the Nitandran isles. Harder than wood but about half the weight, it was a pale blue, bordering on white, and smoothed out to the point it was glossy. The grandest of its kind, the Prince Cadafaxo was rounded in every place a Gadisian ship would be angular, almost oval in its shape. Its masts were fairly conventional, as were its sails, but the vessel bristled with dozens of the infamous Nitandran equivalent of the ballista: The Mugranko. Mugrankos were famous for having a explosive heads that would detonate just after impact. In battles between Nitandran and Methrangian ships, there were stories of Methrangians surrendering at the very threat of a Mugranko barrage.

"Alright, everyone. Look sharp!" Kivren barked.

Gadisian horns blared from the ship in a welcoming fanfare. The Prince Cadafaxo matched it with a round of peculiar wind instruments that sounded almost exactly like a screeching ocean wind from a cyclone. Nalt's entire body shivered at the noise. He shivered more still as the Prince Cadafaxo came up alongside the Reffa Lincot and, at last, he saw the Nitandrans in the flesh, or at least whatever that strange light gray slimy hardened skin was.

Their heads were like rounded triangles, coming to a point that had multiple folds all layered atop one another, and several tentacles dangled from their cheeks and around their mouths. For most of those Nalt could see, their eyes were largely green with erratic black squiggles in the middle, nothing like the eyes of other mortal creatures. Almost resembling fleshy tree branches, their arms separated into four appendages, each resembling tentacles, but firmer. At first, their legs appeared to be somewhat more normal, except that Nalt noticed each of their boots came to four points all in different directions.

As for arms and armor, the Nitandrans put a heavy emphasis on their light infantry and archers, favoring maneuverability to standing in place and slugging it out with heavier opponents and all of their weaponry and protection flowed from that. Instead of plate or chainmail, they had multi-hued scales that appeared to be from large armored fish. It was doubtlessly lighter than conventional armor, but Nalt couldn't tell how heavy of a hit it could take. Their spears were glistening, almost crystalline, things and their appearance absolutely captivated him. They looked much too fragile to survive running a man through, but he reasoned that must be a deception.

"I say, Nalt," Mastohlt whispered to him as the dueling fanfares continued, "this really is something, isn't it?"

"Yeah..." Nalt said through closed teeth.

After the fanfares ended, the Prince Cadafaxo extended a light white plank to the Reffa Lincot. A more heavily-ornamented Nitandran swiftly ran down the ramp with a blue-tipped version of one of their spears. They bowed three times in rapid succession to Chancellor Kivren, who bowed once graciously in response.

"Chancellor Kivren of the Sovereign Confederacy of Gadisia," the Nitandran's slurping voice declared, maintaining a soothing air of formality despite its otherwise grotesque nature, "His Excellency, Admiral King Sepaxo, Master of the Southern Seas and Lord of the Nitandran Isles, requests an audience aboard your vessel. His Excellency also wishes to extend his warmest greetings to your crew and dignitaries gathered here with us today, a day of peaceful seas and favorable winds."

Kivren stepped forward alone and bowed again.

"It would be my greatest pleasure to host His Excellency, Admiral King Sepaxo, and whatever dignitaries he wishes to bring aboard with him," Kivren announced in his booming voice, dropping most of his ordinary folksy mannerisms entirely. Nalt and Mastohlt looked at one another as if to wonder if Kivren was still the same man they spoke to the previous day. "My ship is his ship."

The Nitandran herald bowed three times again, turned about, and provided a signal to his vessel. Without delay, a more festive version of the howling winds from the indescribably convoluted Nitandran instruments sounded out. An honor guard of four Nitandrans came forward first, each of them with decorated fishbone headdresses. Behind them, a single Nitandran, a fair measure taller than the others, began stepping forward onto the plank and slowly trudged forward, his heavy black boots harshly hitting the plank with each step. He wore a tall blue and silver hat that fitted precisely to his head upon which were fitted numerous ribbons and medals.

Kivren motioned for the whole crew to drop to a knee, which they did, Grenna and her company included. Kivren himself stepped forward and slowly bowed.

"Admiral King Sepaxo, it's my immeasurable privilege to treat you to Gadisian hospitality aboard my ship," Kivren boomed again. "Please know that, whatever you need, my crew will be honored to serve you."

Nalt glanced up to see Sepaxo's reserved reception of Kivren's fawning hospitality. His arms folded as he stood between his honor guard, he glanced from one side of the Reffa Lincot to the other with those mysterious green and black eyes. After a few more silent seconds, he reached up and gently removed his hat with his appendages and offered a fulsome bow of his own to Chancellor Kivren.

"Fair weather, sturdy ships, and true friends. These are all I can ever ask for as we embark upon this war together," Sepaxo answered in his slurping, but powerful, voice. "Joined as one, we will vanquish our wicked enemies and restore peace to this troubled world, both its lands and seas."

With that, he placed his hat back atop his head and extended his arm to Kivren. Kivren eagerly grasped it, managing to navigate the oddities of that strange limb. Crews on both ships broke into cheers at the sight. Fanfare again filled the air while Kivren showed Sepaxo up to the captain's quarters where they would meet. Nalt felt all of the tension leave his body in an instant. While he hadn't expected any trouble, the fact that none came was welcome all the same.

Once the door to Kivren's quarters closed, it remained closed for the better part of two hours, during which time the crews on both ships remained on standby for further instructions. At last, one of Kivren's messengers came to Grenna to ask her and her companions to join the Chancellor and the Admiral King. At this, Nalt's heart fluttered. He knew he wouldn't have to say anything, but being in the same quarters as two leaders of great powers was something he never expected.

Once he came into the Chancellor's quarters following Grenna, he heard Kivren laughing along with most of the Gadisian delegation, save Israga. He and Sepaxo were seated at a grand table with a map of the southern coast laid out before them.

"Your Excellency," Kivren started, still in his more formal speaking pattern, which unnerved Nalt, "these soldiers work under my spy chief, Commander Vencot of the Harbor's Eye. I wanted to have them in the room here while we discussed the seizure of Sicahn. They're the ones who did that raid I talked to you about just a few moments ago."

The black jagged lines in Sepaxo's eyes narrowed as he glanced at Grenna and each of her subordinates, including Nalt. For his part, Nalt swallowed hard and his palms became sweaty.

"Very good," the Admiral King said after a delay. "As we will strike the day after tomorrow, such sources of information will be important."

"The... the day after tomorrow?" Kivren gasped. "Isn't that a bit, erm, soon? We're going to need some time to prepare."

"Chancellor, there are many traitors in my islands. They know what I set sail with and where I was going. If we do not launch this offensive straight away, I fear the enemy will be well-prepared for it," Sepaxo explained, moving his arm over the map on the table. "It's more important to establish a position immediately than anything else at the moment. Once we have that, we can deliberate more about the right way to seize Methrangia itself."

"I think our nearby ships only have three thousand men ready to help you," Kivren sheepishly offered. "I had thought we might have another week at least before starting in earnest."

Sepaxo breathed deeply and pointed the tips of one of his appendages toward Sicahn.

"Bring in your reinforcements later, Chancellor," the Admiral King said calmly. "I have five hundred ships and forty thousand troops just over the horizon. We are ready. If your Commander Vencot and her associates would do me the honor, I should like to hear more about the details of Sicahn's defenses."

Israga stepped forward and bowed to Sepaxo.

"Your Excellency, I believe that, as you so eloquently termed them, my associates have the most to offer on this matter," she said and motioned toward Grenna.

Grenna reflexively clenched her hands and stepped forward to sit at the table with Sepaxo and Kivren, surrounded by a cluster of a dozen other Nitandrans to her right and at least a dozen Gadisian commanders and dignitaries to the left.

How does this keep happening to us, of all people? Nalt pondered. At least it's interesting.