Wait, her?

The announcer had called her a woman, right?

Had used the word “she”?

Nothing about Ama suggested anything of the sort. Broad shoulders, bulging muscles, even her feet likely would match if not surpass mine in size.

“Well, are you just going to look at my fabulous self? I guess that’s okay. But only for thirty minutes, and then I must speak of the one you all call chosen! Well, perhaps I might spare an hour.”

Whatever. She, it is.

She smirked and struck a pose, one hand on her hip the other in the air as she tilted her head skyward. In doing so, she showed the very things that made her a Trinniel. Patches of flesh so high in metal that they’d taken on a metallic sheen.

“Behold this wondrous one before you!”

Right she said something about a sage before, didn’t she?

I’m sure she means me, and from the look Aster’s giving me, I don’t think she’ll be willing to take the spot.

I raise my hand a bit. “I don’t know about the sage you’re talking about, but I’m Vandel, fourth Prince of the Romabaec.”

Three spear butts struck the ground in unison. That’s kind of cool. I wonder if they’ll do it again if I introduce myself again.

I probably would have given it a shot if another person had walked into the room. But, instead, since no one does, I turn back to business.

“How can I help you?”

She flipped her long blond hair back over her shoulder and swept open a fan dotted with pink pearls. “My caravan was attacked just a week past. Two made it here of the nine carts that left Angelos with me. Vampiric Hares.”

A week? I didn’t expect that. It had been marked as a possibility, but I’d gone with the immediate attack.

This was… good?

With time, what was a cascading tsunami of fluffy vampiric fury became nothing but a wave. Capable of damage but incapable of total destruction.

“May I ask what managed to make it?”

He shrugged, “I believe the cages ordered by the King have arrived safely but none of the foodstuff.”

Trade negotiations are beyond me, but the cages are good news. I wonder how many were brought. “Well, we’ll send out a scouting party to see if we can recover any of your men. While you wait for news and the King, Natalia has had a truly wonderful meal planned for you.”

Ama’s stomach grumbles, “I suppose I should try to manage something, shouldn’t I?”

I wave Natalia forward where she should have been in the first place. “Please, Natalia will see you to the dining hall, or would you perhaps prefer to eat in your rooms?”

“The dining hall will be fine.”

The way he’s haughtily looking around at the others in the room, I’m pretty sure I can tell what he’s thinking. ‘To these plebeians, I am the very image of beauty! How could I keep myself from their sight.’

Or something like that.

I nodded. “Of course. Natalia.”

She doesn’t look pleased by my dismissal but bowed nonetheless and walked for the door.

“Please follow me,” she said.

“Of course.” She looks ready to grab and shake Natalia until the girl gave in and told her the location of the kitchens. Or food appeared out of nothing, whichever came first. She’s even drooling.

Did the hares manage to get ahold of the food?

One of her servants approached, “Ma’am,” he said, then leaned in.

When he pulls away, she dabs at the corner of her mouth.

“Of course, I understand that!”

She backhands the servant, sending the man tumbling to the ground, his lip bloody.

It wouldn’t surprise me to find a bruise on his chin tomorrow.

“Lead on.” The ambassador announced as she joined Natalia.

Only when Ama had left the room, with her standing servants toddling after her like ducklings, did Aster move to the downed man’s side.

“Apologies. My Lady has had much on her mind as of late,” He stares after her and sighs wistfully.

“Do you think it’s because she’s stressed that she strikes you?” I ask quietly.

I’m only half certain I know the answer. More so because he’s not one I remember creating. Likely just another servant delivering juice or something. Such characters came in by the bushel, after all.

He nods. “I do. I’d explain, but,” he gestures after her.

He doesn’t wait for a word to leave and all but runs from the room.

“I wonder how he stands her?”

“Devotion.” Samira answers her, “pure unblemished devotion. Though how she obtained it is beyond me.”

I know that answer, too, not that I’d be telling them, or anyone else for that matter. The entire host of Trinniel will attempt to kill me if they find out I know. Considering it’s a staple of Trinniel’s society, it’s not surprising.

Every Lord and Lady were taught to generate and alter bioelectrical rhythms. Using it, they can send messages mind to mind via contact, and with minor attunement, they could similarly erase memories to those wiped by ECT and even brainwash people to some extent.

To a very large extent, actually.

It’s only two weaknesses. The first being one requires tactile contact to be effective. In other words, it’d need to touch me. The second reason is much more personal: I don’t want her trying to get her hands on me.

That singular ability is the sole reason for their low reproductive rate. So I had to take something from them. They’d likely take over the world otherwise. Theoretically, it is still possible if they could stay out of conflicts.

However, on average such things were beyond them. Primarily because of stormy personalities.

Aster moves to stand beside me as the door closes behind the brainwashed man. “So, since they’re not coming for a few days, do your need those? You’re giving them back, right?”

She points to the bombs.

I blink and look down at the numerous bomb pouches I’m still holding.

Giving them back is definitely an option, but I have the answer after one look at the green.

“No. I’m keeping these.”

In all fairness, I’m half sure Natalia will take another step to block me, so I’m taking what I can get, and I’ll be damned if I give any of it back!

“So what do I do about that runner you had me send out to the warriors about gathering outside the city at sundown?”

She walked over to the door and leaned against the wall beside it.

Biting my lip, I start to pace.

Calling them off was the simplest solution; they didn’t even require a reason, but that might lead to a few of them not showing up for the actual fight. And comparatively, a few might mean a hundred when it’s being pulled from a number like fifteen hundred.

Explaining the situation would work, but most of them had never heard of Vampiric Hares being they come from the high mountains. So many would brush them off as threats.

So something else. What reason was I given for the forced evacuations again? Kids pulling fire alarms, supposed gas leaks, and numerous bomb threats. So, safety drills? Yeah, that’d work.

I smile, “tell them it was a drill and that they can return to their stations.”

Nodding, she pulls the door open and walks out.

— –

As soon as she’s gone, I look at Samira and the green. “There’s paper here, right? And something to write with?”

I have just a few days. I’m not sure it’s enough time.

She nods.

But I’ll find a way to change that.

I have to start taking this, everything more seriously. The extra time’s a gift I can’t afford to believe I’ll get again!

“Perfect. You can clear the room. But, Samira, guard the door no one’s allowed in.” I said.

The green squawks something about orders and the like. I ignore her. I’ve plans to make.

I barely hear the door close as I step into the armory proper.

Paper, I need paper.

“Where are you,” I ask the empty room and pull a drawer open. It contains plenty of charcoal pencils.

“Du du du duuu.” I mumble.

The next drawer came free, and the next, and the next. No paper. But the green said there was some and the pencils are here.

Slowly turning through the room, I search for any sign of what I’m looking for.

Swords. Spears. A single bow and several dozen arrows. Blast pouches. Daggers. Cloth armors. Cloaks. Ivory spaulders. Ropes. Parchment rolls. Ivory bucklers. The green’s lunch.

Wait. Rolls of parchment?

Taking a bit of it in hand, I trail my fingers across the rough surface and nod. I can work with that.

Taking the roll of parchment and charred stick, I began to list.

It doesn’t sound very impressive and looks about as impressive as it sounds, but people genuinely underestimate the power of a list.

They do more than remind you of whatever you’ve written down but increase the chance of you remembering what your thoughts were when you did the writing. Not only that, but when used correctly, they can also help one branch those thoughts out further.

At the first sounds of the burnt twig scratching at the paper, I release a breath, though it feels like I’d been holding it for longer than I could remember.

I made quick work of listing out topics in the file that could pop up:

1. Mechanical Golems – robots more or less that had been used to gather DNA samples of various creatures for study. If only they remained as benign. But they reactivate on joke settings that required brain matter samples—some from living beings, some from those that weren’t.

2. The avian peoples doing bombing runs because the King spurned the love of a diplomat.

3. Symbiotic creatures/Fairy they pop up before the Gerosin attack.

4. Crash Landing – where humans were on the decline after the few of the initiative’s number left behind start pushing the average humans to the brink of extinction.

5. Plague – Self-explanatory

6. Famine – Self-explanatory

7. War – though finding a way to move an entire army through a desert of any actual size without the aid of modern vehicles made it much more difficult.

That’s not even counting the rabbits that are coming, though. It’s not even close to them. But, it is a good start. Or at least I think so.

The problem isn’t that I have no idea what’s coming, but there’s too much coming! I swear I threw everything at them! Including once a kitchen sink.

The door opens, and Samira pokes her head in. “Highness, the scout has returned with news.”

Already? That’s not likely. The Romabaec didn’t have any animals they could actively ride. The last time one of them got creative about it, she ended up riding outside the city on the back of her manifestation, good old reliable. Though she’d nearly doubled her speed, she looked filled to the brim with insanity. Suffice it to say the practice didn’t catch on.

“How? How could she have news?”

“Crane is the Kingdom’s best rider, Highness. She’s set herself far and above the other riders.”

“Ride?’

She frowns, raises a hand, and starts reaching for my forehead before dropping it into her lap. “Somehow, I had forgotten that only recently you’ve taken two sizable blows. You should be in bed resting.”

I brush her off.

“I can rest tonight.”

She frowns but nods and hauls the door open.

Standing in the doorway was Crane. Her short dark hair plastered to her face with sweat, “Highness!”

She drops to a knee.

Another respectful one.

At least one of them has got to be not overly courteous. Right?

“Get to the point.”

“I took a trail northward and found a few of my favorite perches.”

I cut the air with my hand, “In other words, you didn’t see anything?”

She shakes her head.

That’s more than okay with me. It just means more time to prepare. I can’t afford to keep throwing fixes at it to see what might work.

I’d have to be ruthless.

“Head back to the furthest perch you have and report back once you see something.”

I may not know when they are coming anymore, but I know that they are, and I’ll be ready when they do.

She barely managed a nod before racing off.

Samira steps outside the door.

“So what now?”

I shrug, “we prepare.”

She nods and starts closing the door before pausing.

“How does one prepare for Vampiric Hare’s?”

“I wish I had an answer for you.”

I truly do.

The door started to inch closed.

“Get out of my way.”

The King shoved his way past Samira and stomped into the room. He wasted no time walking up to me and taking hold of the front of my shirt. Between the furious red of his face and Piety slowly forming beside him, I’m sure he’s about to blow his top.

I can feel Desperation, his desire to rip into the King and tear his arms from their sockets. From the corner of my eye, I can see his bared teeth.

Wait.

He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind but did as he was told.

The King takes a deep breath, lets go of me and stalks to the other side of the room.

“Were you anyone else, I’d see you flogged.” He hissed as he turned back to face me. “You take control of my forces! My people!”

The words he spoke seemed to be pushing him closer to falling back over the edge.

“If that wasn’t enough,” he hisses, “you decide to leave an ambassador in the hands of a white? No matter how capable, Natalia is not a child of the Goddess! She cannot speak for our people!”

Jabbing his finger in my direction, he continues. “Neither do you! I should see you locked away or perhaps married off!”

His words draw a growl from Desperation before I have a chance to silence him.

Besides, he’s to much of a coward to marry me off and create another royal line with claim to the throne. Chuck me in a monastery or something, that I can see.

Slowly, mechanically even, he turns to stare at the Twanlad, and the blood drains from his face faster than water through the desert sands.

“By the mother.” The King whispers.

Piety moves to stand in between the King and Desperation, his swords already drawn.

“I must insist you retreat for the moment, Sire.”

As he spoke Piety shifted his position so that he could cover the door.

The King does just what he’s asked, vanishing back through the door and leaving me alone.

I look at Desperation, who returned to laying down his tail wagging gleefully, and Samira, who was closing the door again.

Okay, mostly alone. Sighing, I slump to the floor.