The day could end with Champion Khaya dead.

The thought came with no emotion. It was a spark in the darkness of a quiet mind, quickly branching into bright tendrils as Quinn Doyle, the youngest daughter of the Champion and Grand Mage Rowan, considered a great list of possibilities.

As much as Champion Khaya would be at the centre of things, he was far less important than the events that would herald his death. The Urocy, stalwart in keeping their word, would have to be forced into the arrangement or they would need to go against their core beliefs — and only one of those possibilities was probable.

If that becomes the case, how would Father react? Quinn asked herself, because much though it felt as though his attention was squarely devoted on returning to the world of his birth, his presence loomed large, felt by various figures and impacting where they were and how they moved. Rowan Doyle had not been directly involved in political matters for the past year, yet he was still a monster feared by the high nobility the Commonality over.

Returning to Champion Khaya. Quinn’s father and the Champion were of the same world, yet she could not divine how her father might feel if Khaya were to meet an early end.

There might be anger — but then he hadn’t cared about expediting Khaya’s escape; would he use this as an opportunity to gather more Althorean nobles to his side — then again, Khaya was so small a player that he wouldn’t change much in that regard; or would there be continued apathy?

Or seeming apathy, Quinn mused, pushing her attention to the people before her and letting her expression express itself as a knowing smile. The woman sat in a large room, windowless but for the expression of an exterior through various forms of magic, at the edges of the room were three ornate doors, only one of which was real, but still leading nowhere. The three sat apart, bodies turned at angles and yet each was aware of the other.

Ji-ho one of the Sisters of Solemn Serenity and Sir Corneleus Marlin, Bearer of the Vulkkan Mace. The former of the two sat perfectly still, her expression dispassionate as her eyes bore into Quinn; and the latter looked to be in good spirits after a shower, shave, shortening of his hair, and a change of clothes.

Since she had only been a babe, Quinn had learnt the importance of information, of seeing the greater workings of the world at large and knowing how to traverse the paths that formed. She had learnt that every player — no matter how small they seemed in the beginning — could be vitally important given enough time. Which was why she needed to know all — or seemingly know all, for true omniscience was the magic of gods.

Ji-ho of the Sisters of Solemn Serenity, a temple composed only of women and who were drawn spiritually to healing. The women that called the temple home came from all walks of life and it was not uncommon that a woman from nothing might rise into the nobility through the teachings of her sisters and mothers. There were seven colours in the temple, each with a specific role, but the one most of the world knew was red — the colour of those who had spilled blood for a purpose other than healing.

The women of the Sisters had the skill to be warriors, but that was not their way. However, as Quinn’s eyes moved over the woman, she could see a glimmer in Ji-ho’s eyes she had seen many a times in her more battle inclined siblings.

“Gaze upon me any longer, Daughter of Rowan, and I will think you are interested in me,” Ji-ho said, her voice smooth, holding the promise of danger.

She sat lazily on a backless chair, her legs crossed and her yellow staff laying across her lap — one of the living species of trees, able to mend or grow even when severed from its tree. The weapon was a distinctive one, all the better because it made it easy to track her legend — that of the Monk with the Yellow Staff — and cross-reference to the Smiling Death, a strange malady which largely killed men, all of whom held dark reputations.

The Sisters of Solemn Serenity were a quiet lot and finding anyone that might elucidate Ji-ho’s banishment from the enclave was hard, but Quinn could guess; this world could hand out untold cruelty to women, and someone of Ji-ho’s passions could only stand such injustice so long before she felt compelled to act.

From what she knew of him, it made sense that she was at the Champion’s side.

Quinn smiled. “Would that be so wrong?” she said as lightning struck and dimmed, leaving behind a semblance of a plan. “You are quite a beauty.”

“As flattered as I am,” the woman returned, “do not think I have not been around manipulators before. Your sweet words will fall on deaf ears.”

“Aw,” said Quinn, not allowing silence to cut in between Ji-ho’s words and her own, “at least you’re flattered. I can tell myself I did that much.”

Ji-ho ignored her, expression much like a block of ice — offering little information of worth. Quinn found that irritating, before she re-framed it as a challenge. Finding new energy, her eyes moved to the prisoner.

Sir Corneleus Marlin, cousin of the Mandarons and thus with attachments to royalty; generations past his family had changed their surname from Mandaron to Marlin, which in itself had been a rebellion, showing the larger and more prominent main branch that they could stand on their own. The Mandaron King had replied, putting forth a law that would ensure that the Marlin branch could never rise to kingship — a rebuke which had made many turn their backs on the Marlin branch — and then visiting them for an extended stay to sap their rising wealth.

There should be resentment between the two families, Quinn thought, even though Corneleus seemed to be loyal. If something were to happen she would be in her right to kill him and that might turn resentments that were at a low simmer into a high boil.

Ji-ho’s eyes narrowed and Quinn smiled through instinct alone.

“What are you going to do when you get back home, Corneleus?” Quinn asked. Ji-ho was a lot like Matthaeus Mandaron, the two had dealt with the nobility and they knew how to traverse the mazes Quinn set. It was likely the pair who had advised Champion Khaya that she might think it a good idea to kill the knight.

Which, Quinn admitted to herself, was a thought that had passed through her mind more than ten times since he had arrived at her base. The best way to control people was to limit their options through whatever means, and the death of Corneleus, insignificant though he was in the grand scheme, would cause large ripples.

All of it seems so small once you see how change is truly achieved, Quinn thought. Her father’s ambitions — and indeed her ambitions now that she had taken his mantle for herself, seizing a piece of the cake though in a different way to her siblings — were so great that they seemed impossible.

Which was why, Quinn felt, it was important to focus on the most important pieces on the board — the kings and queens, emperors and great chiefs, all of them allied under similar principles, making them more likely to bring true change unto the Commonality.

None of which could be done without her.

“I would thank you if you referred to me as sir,” Corneleus said, his voice stiff. Quinn pulled herself back, aware that she had begun to drift — too focused on her thoughts that she leaned to readily on temporal magic. She focused on the man, looking at him in great detail. He did his best to hide it, but Quinn could see as plain as day that he was excited for his return home.

Corneleus was a proud one, she could tell, and Quinn oh so loved to bring reality crashing around them — to remind them that they didn’t matter, a lesson that her father had impressed on all of her children.

“I don’t care too much about your thanks,” Quinn said with a shrug. She idly wondered if Ji-ho would notice the switch, there was nothing the nobility so despised as how commoners contracted, and the use on Corneleus while it was held at bay for Ji-ho was intentional; unsettling one while comforting the other. “Especially since the larger families buy their knighthoods.”

The man stood, his expression burning with fury.

At her navel, Quinn had a luminous gem and she tapped into it. Every celestial gem came with a sensory ability, but the boon of luminous gems was the most useless of all — at least that was what most thought. In Quinn’s mind, the world became crisper and the colours more vivid; even with her eyes closed she would still be able to see, and the awareness stretched out further than her eyes could see, expanding in angles that would be impossible without a turn of the head.

Where light touched, Quinn saw with crystal clarity.

She pulled on the drip of energy the stone sent into her body and shifted the colour spectrum. At once the room exploded with light as bright as the sun, all of it directed squarely at the man who had been about to use his strength to intimidate. Corneleus stopped short, hands going to his face as he stumbled back, crashing into his chair and toppling over.

With her expanded sense Quinn watched Ji-ho down to the smallest of details, and she saw the slight smile of satisfaction the woman hid.

“Khaya would not appreciate that,” Ji-ho said, her breathing even and her eyes taking an air of rebuke.

“Everything I’ve seen of the Champion tells me he’s soft,” she said with a shrug. “I think people like us — people who’ve seen how shitty things can be — know that blood has to be spilt to make this world into a better place.”

Ji-ho snorted. “I think you misconstrue having a kind soul with being soft,” she said. A screech rode the air as Corneleus bumped into his chair, causing it to drag across the stone floor. The man sputtered, swearing under his breath, but he stopped moving, breathing hard and trying to regain his composure. “A mistake many make. Khaya has seen his fair share of strife, or at least his people have.”

“Father says people like him were persecuted,” said Quinn.

Ji-ho hummed. “The way he thinks, I can see it,” she said. “Which is why I think whatever snare you will attempt to entrap him in will fail.”

“Would you care for a wager?” Quinn asked, smiling. She saw immediately that it was the wrong tact to take.

“A wager on the manipulation of a friend?” Ji-ho said, shaking her head. “And you were doing so well. I daresay I had begun to have an inkling of respect for you.”

“Where did I err?”

“Your casual disregard for the individual,” she said. “From everything I have heard, you focus too much on your objectives, missing the little things. It’s something I appreciate in Khaya.”

“Most of this world’s problems are systemic,” Quinn said with a shrug. “And systemic problems cannot be fixed on an individual level.” Ji-ho smiled and Quinn felt the condescension, her expression changed, becoming colder. “Problem?”

“Only that there exists a contradiction in your statement,” she said. “You are an individual, even with the scale in which you are working. Before this moment I did not know you existed. Your work is commendable, yes, but can it bring about what you want when your death could see your ambitions end?”

“And Khaya is different, you feel?” Quinn asked, keeping her composure.

Ji-ho shrugged. “I do not know yet. He seems so and I hope it persists.”

Quinn prepared a response but stopped, feeling from her bangle a light tremor in short burst. She was learned in some magics, but the advancement of spatial magic that allowed for the current function confounded her.

The message was sent through a variant moss code and it was an alert, a message relayed from one of her allies in Althor.

“Oh,” she said, at once Ji-ho’s façade cracked and worry wrote itself on her expression. Quinn’s mind filled with ideas, imagining the fullness of the situation and what would follow. She had imagined it as a possibility only moments before, but that it would come true had felt unlikely.

Is this your doing, Father? she thought, because the man was a crafty one, and that this was all happening after he had held a conversation with Matthaeus did not go without notice.

“What?” Ji-ho asked. “What happened?”

“It seems the king cares very little for Corneleus’ life,” Quinn said, which had the man at rapt attention, his eyes red and puffy, blinking open and shut. “The Briarpatch Dens were attacked. The Urocy have sent envoys to nobles of major and minor standing, spreading news of the king’s betrayal.”

“That cannot be,” Corneleus said and Quinn saw reflected in Ji-ho’s expression the same disbelief. She suspected her and Quinn couldn’t blame her, because her thoughts seemed to centre on how to dig the knife deeper — Althor needed disunity if it was to be taken.

“The message was coded and it’s possible I missed something,” she said, a line to soothe Ji-ho’s worries, building on some of the goodwill she’d lost by devaluing Khaya’s life.

“But you doubt it?” said Ji-ho, still with that disbelief. Quinn shrugged. “My friends?”

“Nothing yet,” said Quinn — the truth. “But they might be dead.”

Ji-ho shook her head. “No,” she said. “Whatever occurred, all of them are still alive. They have faced bad odds before.”

“Worse odds than a battle against the king and his trusted knights? You have to humour the possibility that they are dead, and what we will have to do to make the king rue this decision,” she said, turning her gaze on Corneleus.

The man noticed and stood, arms apart, legs set in a wide stance, and his head tilted down so he wouldn’t be blinded again. He stepped back, getting his distance, but there was only so far that he could go. They were in a cave deep within the Great Barrier Ridge, with their alcove only accessible through spatial magic.

“Has Rollo left your stables?” Ji-ho asked.

Quinn frowned and, bringing her arm close to her, said, “Stables, Scotty.”

An instant later the world began to dissolve around her, becoming dark shapes that changed as she was moved from one place to the other. The new area was a large one, dominated at its centre by a large spatial stone with fine diagram work; the people who worked here were a mix of herders, trainers and temporal and spatial mages.

“Quinn?” Simone said, surprised.

“I’m here to check on the Champion’s goat, Rollo. Is he here?”

Simone nodded. “Poor thing’s been pacing. Not eating, just waiting. I can’t believe how much they’ve bonded in such a short time.” The woman smiled. “Rollo’s one of our stubborn ones, you know. I didn’t—”

“That’s nice,” Quinn cut in. “Sorry. I’m dealing with something urgent.”

“Visit sometime? It’s been a while.”

Quinn nodded absently. “Scotty, to the pen.”

She disappeared and appeared again to see that Corneleus was on the ground, a massive red mark at his jaw with the dimensions of a pole. Ji-ho now stood, her expression not having changed, though her staff held as a weapon — did he attack or did Ji-ho just want to hurt him? Quinn did not yet know the woman enough to have an idea how things might have occurred.

“The goat’s still in the stables,” she said.

“There,” Ji-ho said, her relief palpable. “If the circumstances were truly desperate, Khaya would have called his goat to his side.”

Or he didn’t have time to make the summons, Quinn thought, but if the woman was deluding herself, then she would allow it.

Quinn’s mind continued to work, considering the various pieces. She wanted nothing but to move, to strike while the iron was hot, compiling all the information to form a better picture; but the Champion was a noteworthy tool Quinn wanted under her sway, and it would be bad optics if Ji-ho was left alone.

Which made the slow trudge of time almost unbearable as Quinn waited, at times receiving drips of information as more Urocy ventured out of their dens to herald the news of King Orpheus’ betrayal. She was as relieved as Ji-ho when word finally arrived: Champion Khaya was safely in the company of the spatial mages of the City of Laurent.

“They’re back,” said Quinn and Ji-ho relaxed, “but there are only three of them.”

The woman tensed once more and, through her luminous sense, Quinn noted the slight smile from Corneleus.

Still loyal to the Mandarons or happy that his captures lost some of their own? Quinn thought, and she hoped that it was the latter. The Marlins were a new surname but an old family and there was no doubt some who thought their fate had been unfair, if they caused trouble, more would follow.

“We should be off,” said Quinn.

***

Champion Khaya, the thief, Hatim, and the commoner, Clyde had survived. Quinn hadn’t checked and she found herself surprised. All three men looked tired but uninjured, there was loss in their eyes, but Quinn doubted it was the loss of a life. Champion Khaya and Hatim smiled as they saw Ji-ho, while Clyde looked like a puppet with only a single string holding him up, in his hands was clutched a rolled-up parchment, clung to as if his life depended on it.

“Surya and Marcus?” Ji-ho asked.

“Alive,” said Hatim. Ji-ho let out an audible breath, then she looked up, brow quirking. The woman wore more emotion on her expression than she had through their stay, letting her mask drop around friends. “I don’t know why, but they stayed behind. They said their good-byes.”

Father, Quinn thought. It has to be.

“I take it Marcus’ plans for his brothers didn’t work out?” Ji-ho asked.

“Allyceus tried to kill me,” said Khaya, his expression hard, fatigue in his brown eyes that wasn’t reflected in his body. Quinn looked closed and was hit by dissonance – the sense that two things didn’t connect. The Champion wore his armour and it was dirtied by battle damage, but to look at the man himself, it was as though he had just woken up — healthy and refreshed.

Allyceus, another part of her thought, fixating on the change of the name, taking on male airs. Quinn for a moment let herself wonder if she could use that to her advantage, perhaps souring Allyceus’ union with the heir of Harrengrove.

“Then they dropped a trap on us, shooting themselves in the foot by screwing over their relationship with the Urocy,” he continued. Ji-ho stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the Champion, her hand running over the deep cut on the man’s armour. “I’m fine. Got healed. Time chamber.”

“The Urocy have one of those?” Quinn said, surprised. The foxes did not lie, but as a species they were very adept at keeping secrets.

“They do,” the Champion said, then something passed through his eyes, flickering this way and that as if he was in deep thought. “Oh, Surefoot wanted me to send a message to Rowan, that if Lowgrowl, Surefoot’s brother, isn’t released, he might need to talk to your father. Can you send that along?”

This has to be father, Quinn thought as she gave a nod. She considered asking for another favour, a forced levity to see more of who the Champion was underneath his own masks, but they had lost friends, returned from battle, and it wouldn’t do to push things.

“What of Corneleus?” she asked instead. “You were attacked, does this mean we should—?”

“No,” said Khaya and Ji-ho smiled, hints of pride appearing on her. The man took a deep breath. “I don’t think I would have liked him dying in the first place, but…that’s not needed. Allyceus signed and the Urocy wanted us to keep our side of the deal. I think it’s smart. The people of Khayalethu are free and if Orpheus thinks to fuck with us, we can fuck with him right back.”

“Khayalethu,” said Ji-ho, a hint of worry in her voice and a quick glance directed at Quinn. The woman could imagine what Ji-ho was thinking, whether Khaya’s ego had grown so quickly — no words had been spoken, but the barb struck all the same. “Named after yourself?”

“It means our home,” said the Champion. “I think it fits for a people who’ve lost their old home, went without for a while and are starting anew.”

“It fits,” said Hatim and Ji-ho smiled.

The Champion’s eyes found Quinn and his eyes flickered from side to side, his expression quickly shifting between expressions as his thoughts were aided by a temporal artefact. He looked for an instance as if he was about to ask a question before he shook his head.

“We’re tired,” he said, but the words felt like they were for himself. “And there’s still a lot of work to do. Can I trust you to get Corneleus back home safely? Because…I know it matters, closing things off, but I’d rather focus on getting Clyde back home to his family, and make sure that everyone stops worrying about us.”

“Is that more important that striking while the iron’s hot?” Quinn asked, hints of her frustration filtering through. It had only been a few hours of waiting since hearing the news and already she felt antsy, wanting to think on the geopolitical implications that would follow; that the Champion disregarded it all so easily was dissatisfying, it would be so easy for him to do something that actually mattered. “There’s likely chaos to follow. You are a friend of the Urocy, you could decide their stance and whether they should rebel against King Orpheus.”

“The Urocy know what’s best for their people and I don’t want to mess with that,” the Champion said. “And this, what I’m doing, is important in its own way. Can I trust you to get Corneleus back?”

“You can,” said Quinn, “and by the week I will return to you with the first bids of the Marlin artefact.”

“Thanks,” the Champion said before he raised his arm and intoned, “Rollo, come!”

The air rippled and the goat appeared, its body taut with anticipation before it relaxed. Champion Khaya smiled as the goat levelled its head and bumped him.

“We should get out of here. There’s a long ride ahead of us.”

“Good,” said Ji-ho. “Time enough that you can regale me with your adventure.”

A long moment passed where Quinn watched the four leave and she wondered if their way was wise or witless. The people of Khayalethu had a semblance of freedom, but what of everyone else? What of the workers in the mines or the many serfs under their noble oppressors? Would what the Champion was doing matter in the grand scheme?

For now it did not matter, chaos was set to unfold and Quinn wanted to direct it.

She returned to her compound to refresh herself on her plans: Susserton, which still needed to be turned away from the hands of the old lines; the Althorean magical schools, which had been bucking under idea of tightened restrictions set to be enforced by King Orpheus; the continued pillaging of the western Althorean borders, something that would have to be increased now to increase the probability of Orpheus being seen as incompetent; all while ensuring that the Sunward Empire didn’t meddle, and no other kingdom allied with Althor to protect the infrastructure of the spatial network; and then there was her father, whose true motives could sometimes be hard to discern.

All of it delicate and liable to blow up in her face if she did not act with caution.

Though Quinn loved it all and as plans formed and were discarded, she felt in her element.