Excerpt from General Yrkzhext’s ‘Peace By Force.’

“War must have a reason—not even the greatest of fools goes to battle without purpose. Some say that there are good reasons and bad, that to go to war for the betterment of one’s realm is good, or the destruction of evil is good. Some say a good war negates a bad one—to ride out to meet those who wronged you before is a good war. However, there is no such thing. No war is good, except that won instantly and bloodlessly, in which case it is no war at all. A great general may command his troops and defeat an enemy, but he will always lose to a great ambassador.”

“A vision of dreadful war. A war painted in blood, waged for the dark purpose of vilest sorcery. A war that has already begun.”

The dreadful implications of the priestess’ omen hung heavy over the group, leaving everyone tense—except for Aroearoe, and the priestess Suee. If anything, the head of House Deepstar seemed annoyed, as though this entire thing were a colossal nuisance. Aroearoea was the one to dispel the tension, in what Yenna felt was a surprising change of mood.

“Now! There’s lots to discuss, but I’m sure you and yours have travelled far. You will not come away saying that you did not receive the proper hospitality from your own mother, neither will your…associates.” Aroearoe looked around, hands on hips, as though just recalling that she had sent all the help out of the room. “It is a shame I have to meet you in this miserable little home. It’s a far cry from Highshine.”

Yenna had to admit that she was a little lost here—this was a rather magnificent house, if out of the way, but she supposed that nobility lived in a different world. Highshine was also not a name she recognised, so she made a note to ask Eone later.

“We’re in something of a hurry, mother.” The captain stood her ground. “If you’ve called me here to ask me to return to the House, I’m afraid the answer will be no.”

Aroearoe laughed, a singular gorgeous note that moved her body in ways Yenna couldn’t help but notice. “My daughter, as always, you think too little of me, of the House. I’ve called you here because I need someone I can trust to perform a task, and I believe it to be sufficiently exciting for you to quit shirking your responsibilities to do it.”

Eone genuinely looked at a loss for words. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it and clenched her jaw. Yenna had never seen her so frustrated, and she could understand why. The socially awkward kesh was a master of mentally practicing for some particularly tense moment, only for that moment to diverge entirely from the phantom script she had written—right now, Eone’s practice script had been thrown into the fire. At the very least, the captain was significantly better at improvising.

“I’ll…entertain your proposal, after hearing it, and only after allowing my friends waiting outside into your hospitality. I won’t leave them stuck outside in the cold for any longer than necessary.” Eone turned and nodded to Muut—a signal Yenna wasn’t sure how to interpret.

With a dramatic sigh and a shrug that caused a cacophony of jingling jewellery, Aroearoe gave a small nod. “Fine. There’s not much space inside for your silupker, I’m afraid—I’m sure the attendants will find somewhere for it.”

“Them, mother. Chime is a person, and they are not mine. They belong to themself.” Eone gave off a surprising amount of venom, though it felt deserved—Yenna honestly couldn’t think of anyone in Aulpre that genuinely still held to the outdated belief that silupker weren’t people, but tools¹. It put a foul look on Aroearoe’s fine features to hear this, as though being called out for such behaviour was a foreign concept—and to be fair, it might well have been.

“Yes, yes. I shan’t spare them my hospitality.” Aroearoe reached down to the pommel of her sword and tapped one of the many gemstones on it. Yenna recognised that it was a simple magical signal, likely keyed to a corresponding stone—her suspicions were confirmed when a yolm attendant promptly emerged from a door and gave a stiff bow, awaiting instructions.

“Minn, we will be having additional guests. The entire Freshfed party. Go and set more places at the tables, or what-have-you…and find somewhere comfortable for their silupker to rest.” Aroearoe gave her commands to a point slightly above the man’s head, but he still gave a gracious bow and vanished back into the door he came out of.

Yenna began to tune out as the mundane concerns were sorted. It wasn’t the kind of thing that interested her, nor did she have any particular say in it. Frankly, she wanted to know more about the vision—and to an extent, the bearer of that message. The priestess, Suee, was a strange one. When she wasn’t being asked to speak, or no one was paying much attention to her, the kesh was perfectly still—so still that she seemed to fade from sight, blending with the dark wood of the manor’s furnishings. It felt thoroughly unnerving to Yenna that it was so difficult to focus on her. Whenever she tried to look closer, her eyes glided over the priestess’ form, or became distracted by movement on her periphery, or became blurred. There had been no such difficulty when the priestess spoke—Yenna suspected magic.

As she started to cast the magic sight spell, Yenna caught herself. Was it improper to stare like this? What if there are casting alarms in place in the manor? Given the defences around the fort at the base of the elevator, it seemed unlikely that the manor wasn’t set up to detect unauthorised casting within. Allowing herself to be distracted in this regard, Yenna cast her senses around the room.

There was a definite difference in the movement of magic within the manor, evidence of a number of enchantments or prepared spells interfering with the natural ebb and tide of magic’s flow. It was not something that was immediately obvious, but Yenna was used to the feeling—the inside of her school had a variety of spells woven into the walls, doors and objects within, and the feeling in there was much the same here. Looking carefully with her eyes and magic sense, Yenna could spot several exposed sections of magical security where the magic flowed differently.

A thin strip of dark metal outlining each of the door frames. An aesthetically pleasing formation of coloured tiles that followed the bannister up the stairs. Tiny spikes of green glass set into the walls at seemingly random intervals. To a regular, non-magical observer, they were simply odd but not out-of-place architectural features. To a mage, these were the active components of a set spell. The strips around the door could be activated to cast a spell over the doorways—likely a conjured barrier or alarm. The tiles running up the bannister would collapse the staircase in case of intruders, causing the wood to fold up like paper into the pattern of the tiles themselves.

The spikes of green glass… “Nullifiers,” Yenna murmured unhappily to herself. They were a brutally effective piece of anti-magic security—if a spell matching an appropriate criteria were about to be cast, the glass would shatter and send a blast of magical energy to scatter the spell. Set up as they were, these nullifier traps would likely also sound an alarm and cause a fuss, and there was no way to tell what kinds of spells they were looking for without trying them. Yenna decided that it wasn’t worth the hassle to try and cast a magical sight spell if her snooping would get her kicked out. She resigned herself to non-magical observation—perhaps if she just spoke to the priestess…

“Yenna Bookbinder.”

There was a voice in her ear, barely a whisper—Yenna nearly squealed in surprise, stumbling startled sideways away from the priestess. Suee had seemingly appeared right by the mage’s side, facing her. Failing to notice the priestess made Narasanha’s voice ring in her ears—if you didn’t notice me when I wasn’t trying, you’ll be easy prey for those who are. Yenna quickly composed herself and turned to face the kesh, quietly admonishing herself for being careless.

“Can I, erm, help you? Oh.”

As soon as Yenna spoke, Suee held out something for her to take. It was a small, silver disk bearing the same moon and stars pattern that Yenna had seen a couple of times around the place. For a moment, she could have sworn the disk was floating in mid-air—as though the thought gently prodded reality into behaving, Yenna belatedly realised that Suee’s hand was gloved with the same black-with-stars fabric of her robe, and was impossibly still. Worried that this moment might not pass unless she complied, Yenna took the little disk.

“You are caught in fate’s snare, though it boils and bends near you.” The priestess’ voice was still a whisper, but now it felt like all the sound nearby had faded to let her be heard. Yenna felt cold—and like she couldn’t look away. “I cannot see your future, hidden from the moon by dark clouds. You have made a horrible mistake, and thrust yourself outside of divine guidance.”

“Wait, what? Hold on, I really don’t understand what you–”

“A tragedy looms, painted in blood. Evil consumes, drags us down like mud. Only the grace of moon and stars, bindings of waxingmoon and chains of waninglight, will protect us. The stars see it—protection is not salvation. So, we entrust this to you, mage outside fate.”

Yenna frowned. She had heard that those involved in disciplines of divination and augury were strange folk, but didn’t realise it was so true. Cryptic nonsense aside, it seemed that Suee expected something great—though as soon as she had said her piece, she was gone. The priestess walked away, straight out of the room, without so much as a further word. Yenna wanted to shout out and protest, but she still didn’t want to make a scene. The little silver coin in her hand felt cold to the touch—Yenna tucked it into a pocket on the inside of her robe.

—

The group moved through a hallway to a comfortable living room. It was a wide, cozy room laid out in a sprawling fashion, with several separate places for folks to sit and converse around low tables. Gathered cushions gave a comfortable place to sit, and the whole place had a warmth to it that Yenna suspected was coming from under the floor. The tables were laid out with a variety of things to eat, mostly different kinds of bread—including thin fried strips paired with a plethora of dips, thinly sliced pieces of cheese and cold meats. Teapots sat on each table, surrounded by tiny porcelain cups, giving the room a remarkable fragrance. There was even a wall covered from floor to ceiling in books—if Yenna wasn’t worried about what the priestess had to say, she would be over there in a heartbeat.

Aroearoe took a seat at the central table. Despite its round shape, she had definitely taken the most important place—facing directly towards the door that took them here, and able to look around and see the entire room at a glance, it was also the spot with the nicest cushions. Eone took a seat to her left, and Muut a seat to Eone’s left.

“Where should I sit?” Tirk, once again asking the question that Yenna was too uncomfortable to say, flicked his eyes between the spread on the table and the various cushions around it.

To Yenna’s surprise, Aroearoe gave him a big smile and gestured to the place at her right hand side. “Come, young one. Sit by me, so I may have a measure of you.”

There was an odd moment where Aroearoe’s eyes flicked over to look at Eone, as though expecting some reaction to that—unfortunately for her, the captain was busy stuffing a small bread roll into her mouth. Still, Tirk took a seat there by her side, his eyes sparkling as he snatched up a piece of cheese, gobbling it down like he wasn’t meant to have it. That left Narasanha and Yenna standing awkwardly nearby—Mysilia did as she pleased, as per usual, and had taken a seat physically on the table between Eone and Muut.

“Come.” The gruff bodyguard put a hefty hand on Yenna’s shoulder and began to walk to a further table—the one with all the books, no less. “We are not offered a place, so we are on the outer.”

“On the outer…?” The mage didn’t have any objections about getting away from what was likely going to be a very political meeting over food, but it still felt odd. “Have we done something wrong?”

“We aren’t of interest, yet.” Narasanha dropped herself down onto a wide pillow, the table rattling along with her weapons. The bodyguard was, as per usual, completely unreadable—her practically carved-from-stone expression set into her signature frown.

Yenna felt a little put out, not being ‘of interest’, but didn’t pay it too much mind. The table that Eone and her mother sat at felt ludicrously empty. It had room enough for several more people, while hers and Narasanha’s table was much smaller. It felt almost like an intentional snub, and Yenna thought of how the pair of them had been characterised—your guard and your mage. Aroearoe had dismissed them into a singular word, and categorised them both as merely the help.

Still, the food was good—if not the company, for Narasanha was perfectly silent the entire time—and Yenna could at least observe the main table. Over the next several minutes, a few more yolm arrived and sat with Aroearoe’s group. The first three arrived together—two men and a woman, with the woman clearly the most important.

“Seve of House Stormsea,” she gave a bow to Aroearoe before she sat, and then a miniscule bow to Eone, “and my brothers, Shen and Hjin.”

All three were dressed in clothes that were at once practical and fine—bright reds and greens that were far too clean and a little too well ornamented to be travelling clothes, but still reasonably warm and convenient to move in. Each wore a small, hooked dagger at their hip—is carrying a weapon like that something all nobles do?

Shortly after, Priestess Suee returned with another kesh, dressed almost identically—the only differences being that the other was clearly larger, and their head was unveiled. They had pale skin and short black hair, as well as quite a rough demeanor that Yenna felt didn’t match her image of a priestess.

Then, finally, a familiar face—Hirihiri entered in finer clothes than Yenna had ever seen her in, a lovely dress of deep browns and greens, trimmed with white fur that made her look bigger and more lively than ever. Noting Yenna and Narasanha, the old yolm made her way over to the outer table with only a nod in Eone’s direction.

“Glad the old dress still fits me,” Hirihiri grunted as she sat down. “Been a while since I wore it, heh. Mayi and Jiin wanted to stay with Chime, bless them—I might have to charm some attendant into sneaking some food down to them.”

The old cook gave a teasing wink at Yenna, and the mage found herself blushing and laughing along—Hirihiri certainly had the swagger of a trained charmer, even if her looks had faded somewhat with age.

“Truth be told,” Yenna sighed, “I’m not quite sure what I’m meant to be doing here. It feels like the captain went out of her way to have us in here, but she didn’t call us to sit in on the conversation.”

“You won’t be missing much.” Hirihiri delicately loaded up a fried bread chip with a stack of different cheeses. “They’ll just be giving pleasantries, discussing matters as boring as they are important, and claiming to be the most important person at the table without outright saying it. You’ll never guess why the rest of the crew declined the invitation.”

“But what about… oh, right, you weren’t here!” Yenna quickly related to Hirihiri what the priestess Suee had said—the ominous prediction of war.

“Hmph. Fortune tellers are always saying nonsense like that.” The cook waved her hand dismissively, flicking a few crumbs about by accident.

“And she said something to me, about my future being hidden. She said I made a mistake, and that I’m messing with fate, and that there is to be a tragedy, and maybe I’m meant to do something about it?” Yenna realised she had started to panic a little as she explained, and covered by reaching into her pocket and withdrawing the coin. “H-Here. She entrusted this to me, but I’m not sure what it means.”

“A token of protection.” Narasanha’s voice grumbled out suddenly, which startled Yenna. She plucked it out of Yenna’s hand, looked it over briefly and put it back. “You are too vulnerable, and even the priestess takes pity on you.”

Hirihiri laughed quietly, and shook her head. She took the coin, looked it over and handed it back.

“No, I think the priestess expects good things of you. It is said that future sight is a curse—to see terror coming, and know that fate cannot be swayed from its course. That your future is hidden means you have been chosen to change that fate, perhaps. The priestess acts as a conduit to the moon’s light—or so I hear—and she offers you this as insurance. Or, perhaps, it’s simply fate that she does so.”

Yenna frowned. Fate was…tricky. It was easy to look back on events and say it couldn’t have happened any other way—that it was fated to be. Even mages knew that there was some truth to fate. There were spells to predict conditions in the immediate future, though Yenna didn’t know any herself. They were repeatable, provable means of saying that, yes, fate exists as a guiding force, that actions are always fated to be. But it still felt wrong, somehow, for free agency of action existed—or at least seemed to exist. Was the future set in stone? Was tragedy certain to pass? Yenna clutched the coin—if she had the power to avert disaster, she would do so every time.

As though in response, the piece of silver in Yenna’s hand suddenly became deathly cold.

¹ - Silupker have an unfortunate history of enslavement throughout the history of the world. When a silupker comes to life, they possess many pre-existing pieces of knowledge, such as how to move, speak the silupker language and how to perform many basic tasks. However, they are left with a somewhat blank slate of personality that defaults to ‘generally helpful’. There have been countless individuals and groups who have taken advantage of newly born silupker, convincing them that they are meant only to serve their fleshy sapient counterparts.