Things were busy in Amistad, there was so much to do and they were – all of them – intent on doing their very best. Tythas was about some plot, seemingly unconcerned with the location of the new King Tyr who'd been gone for weeks. Brenn was the 'spiritual advisor to the king', a daunting task of extremely ambiguous responsibility. Magnus, the lieutenant commander of the more physically inclined and newly drafted army, and the queens were the queens. All of them, Jura had returned with Ayla in tow. Kirk was just... Kirk. He spent most of his time with Camilla and the half-orc along with their other teammates, working alongside everyone else and helping where they could.

And Micah, much like Kirk, was just Micah. He'd felt sort of left out at first, but now he was glad to be the person he was. They were all steeped in the work of reorganizing Amistad and very grumpy throughout the process. Even Brenn was irascible, chasing him out of the chapel when Micah suggested they 'throw a real banger to celebrate'. Like... What was the problem? They were all suddenly royalty or royal functionaries, the others might be used to this kind of clout – but Micah was not. What use was there in being so important if they couldn't enjoy it?

At least Nala, or rather Maria again, was still there with him. He wasn't sure what to call her still, but he typically opted for the former. In any case, she didn't seem to mind. Most times, she hovered over him uncomfortably close, saying things like 'make sure you finish your meal' and 'you look a mess, go brush your hair before presenting yourself to the public like that'. It wasn't the relationship he'd asked for, but he was still glad he'd found it. At the current moment, he was half dozed off, having been roped into the task of organizing Amistad's incredibly convoluted system of accounting by Alex. It wasn't that the paper trail was so complicated, it was more like the archmages had been laundering money for so long that figuring out proper expenditures was... It was impossible, and they'd have to start from scratch through a flawed census system that most citizens didn't care to participate in.

“Do I really have to do this?” He whined. Alex looked up with a fearsome glare, but she hadn't need to. Nala did what she wished she could, slapping him about the back of the head and nodding amicably toward her new 'friend'. She liked these humans, they were all far beyond the average level of talent among their kind, almost suspiciously so. Not that this was her criteria for liking things, but power and ability were two very critical things in this world. Their attitudes were more important, and she favored those as well.

“You'll do it and you'll like it.”

“Yes my queen...” Micah replied sheepishly, wincing against the pain. She liked that too, a little obedience never hurt anybody.

“Don't blame me. It's not my fault.” Alex asserted, irritated and it was as plain as day. She wasn't angry with Micah, but rather the situation at large. Amistad was truly a mess and the tax rates in particular were so inconsistent as to beggar belief. Everyone was stealing, if not – the prices of magical artifacts would've bottomed out long ago. A sixty percent tax existed on all services related to the arcane. Sixty percent! “Blame Tyr for not being here.”

“I guess that's true.” Micah nodded.

“What do you mean he's not here?” Nala frowned. “I laid eyes on him no less than two hours ago at the edge of the crater.”

“What did you just say?” Alex's eyes became fiery slits, the woman rising angrily from her uncomfortable seat. “Take me to him.”

–

Schick.

“Oooooh! I once met a lass out in old Krieg, had a fat ass and a big ole steed, hands were hard and her body was steel, couldn't help but stare and yearn for a feeeeel!”

“OOOOOH!”

Schick.

“Millie was a filly, though her bearing be chilly, oh what a fine lily to be found out in old Krieg!”

Schick.

“I once met a lass up in Taldarim, had a pocked face but her body pristine!”

Schick.

“Made her my wife, my gods what a looker! A mighty fine partner, a mighty fine cooker! Gave me six sons 'fore the pox came and took her!”

Schick.

“I met her at a cattle run and boy she made my apple hum!”

Schick.

“I once met a lass out in Oresund, nice rosy lips and a plump ole bum! Two fingers in my rump now I think I'm in love!”

“Hey, that's not part of the song!”

Schick.

There was beauty in all things simple. Song, dance, something as natural as digging the trenches that were set to ring the walls of the crater surrounding Amistad. Most of the mages had refused to work so they were doing it by hand with laborers both foreign and domestic. Granted, Tyr could easily just do it himself, but he liked it – and they weren't exactly pressed for time. In fact, there wasn't much point to any of this, a dalliance to keep his hands busy and raise confidence. This world had a strange warfare doctrine and he wasn't the type to study how to acclimate to it.

Hitting things until they stopped moving had always been his shtick, too late to change that now.

He rose, staring out at the industry around the four layers of trench, following the rolling land down with his eyes. Just before the forest began. They'd be smart to clear some of that for visibility, but he didn't want to, trees ain't botherin' nobody. As for the men, the common men digging with the women and children carrying the earth down the lip of the crater, they were all too happy to be singing along with their king. Well... That's who he had to be right now, and that wasn't botherin' nobody neither. It was good to see folks happy and hearty, of course they'd be paid and well fed for their efforts to boot – working men and women deserved a fair wage.

What a fine day. Tyr smiled broadly. Four layers of earthworks, both trench and wall – plenty left to do to shore it all up but it was a start. Reminding him a bit of the good old days, what with the logs being dragged down tracks courtesy of those magic carriages to be laid in position. War was comin', and he needed 'em to be ready. But there was no such thing as a perfect day, some folks saw to it that such a thing couldn't be left well enough alone.

BOOM.

Atop the trench they'd been so hard at work building in this section, a massive winged lion descended, shaking up the earth and ensuring it was half filled in by the time she was done circling about. Two figures dressed in black descended from the great beast's back. Unfortunate, but Tyr bowed respectfully in her direction, noting the surprise in her eyes at the greeting. Great beasts ought to be respected, humans were just here a little while but she was part of the living world. Soul or not, didn't matter, nature didn't care too much about all that. Had its own kind of magic, nature did. The oldest and most powerful of all.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Alex stormed toward him, one fist clenched and the other hand shoving a slender finger into his chest. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused m-- Er...?”

Tyr snatched that pointed finger and held it gently until the fist opened, kissing the top of her hand softly and drawing her in close, arm held up to the side as if they were engaged in a tango. “My love, you've no idea how much I've missed you.”

She was obviously taken back by the bold action, blushing a bit and stammering. “I... You... Really?”

“Like you'd never know.” Tyr smiled softly, drawing her closer and holding her tight. Alex held on even tighter, wide eyed and looking back toward Micah and Nala, both of which looked rather awkward. Tyr was always bold, just not like this, in Haran these displays of abject affection were not common. They were a hard people, and often sincere in turn, but not typically in full view of the public.

“Gods I just love her so much!” He boomed suddenly. “The love of my life, everybody!”

Tyr grasped her hand, separating her from him as her frantically waving hands tried to make contact with the almost unfamiliar hardness of his masculine back. Catching Alex again after the blitz of a spin, Tyr raised her hand in his own like a champion of the arena, and the people seemed to recover nicely from their shock at seeing such a beast descend from the sky, cheering in the process.

“Long live the queen!”

“We love you too!”

“You make for a fine young couple, your graces!”

She noticed most of them were elders, that was the way of Amistad. Those lucky enough to find themselves a job in this discriminatory place tended to stay. Men who were useful weren't rare, but men who were consistent were. Those who could, did, and they earned citizenship for it. Even still, she was both shocked and awed at the intensity of their exclamations.

Their loyalty.

“I see.” Alex sighed, realizing that he wasn't out here just playing around. Elders, even non-mages, held sway in their communities, and word would spread that their king broke his back alongside him. “I'm sorry I acted so rashly, this must be very hard.”

“Ain't nothin' but some stuffin', muffin.” He smiled, kissing her forehead and draping his arm over her shoulder. It wasn't as if she didn't like it, it was just so... So odd. Tyr was never particularly affectionate unless they were alone. Then, his voice grew a little more serious. “I like this, this labor. A common man should be of a common mind. I like these common men, working alongside them. I am sorry if I've angered you for whatever reason, my love.”

“You did.” She pursed her lips, but it was cute. Part of who she was and he loved that the most. “But I get it, I do. Loyalty among the common populace is incredibly necessary and it was a wise move. Still, these men aren't soldiers, Tyr. It's good, but not an efficient use of our limited time.”

“Don't matter what they are.” Tyr drawled, for... Some reason? He was speaking quite oddly but she felt so secure and appreciated under his soft gaze that she didn't question it. Not to mention the raw size of him, burlier than she remember, but he'd said something about active transmutation through no use of mana. Maybe he'd traded brains for brawn... She'd prefer him as dumb as possible, as opposed to the opposite. “Men don't need to be fighting, I'll protect em all, just making sure they'll be ready should I fail. Y'know?”

“Do you think you will fail?” Alex asked.

“'Course not.” Tyr laughed at her, but it wasn't mocking, just genuine amusement. But then he calmed himself and his face grew grim. “Hope I don't. Pray to all the gods I don't, world deserves better than me and mine but it's what they've got. I'm going to try real hard and I hope it's enough.”

“It will be.” She kissed him, impossibly giddy. Alex had come here full of agitation, and knew she'd now leave like a new woman. All of her effort vindicated by his behavior. She'd always known that she could fix him, make him the perfect man. She could do without the odd drawl but he was who he was and she loved him. Always would, good or ill. That was a promise, and she'd never broken oath before, a slap here and there hardly constituted. “Thank you for your labors.” She bowed towards the men who'd begun shoveling at the dirt once again. “I know it'd be easier with some magic, and we'll see to that when the larger areas of defense are concerned, so I hope you'll allow me to trouble you a bit longer to entertain my husband.”

They gawped at her humility, astonished. But then again, hadn't their new king turned out to be an absolute legend? Free beer for lunch breaks! “We love you! Stay as long as you like!” They cried all sorts of compliments towards her and she was shocked yet again by their sincerity. Tyr had a plan, she knew it, and while a bit miffed he hadn't shared it with her – it was well enough. To inspire. These men had families, and with families and bonds came more men. This was the seed of loyalty planted, the kind of devotion that gave men the strength to bleed and die, to send their sons to war.

Gideon had often spoken of this sort of gravitas, why he wouldn't accept Bell as his heir even if her older brother had wanted it. Lords were often busy and stressed, despite the public image – but something as simple as a wave in the direction of a commoner could mean the world to them. Though she hadn't properly noticed it until now, Tyr was rather humble in this regard. Arrogant to a point of annoyance when it came to most things, but he didn't think himself above any task. Sometimes leveling oneself was the best way to connect, and he was excelling at that.

“But why...” Alex cleared her throat. “Why aren't you using magic?” She asked, but she already had her answer as soon as she noticed the wards. There were no 'anti-mana' or 'anti-magic' barriers that could be wielded by men. They didn't exist, it was like calling a shield of steel an 'anti-spear' barrier, which was technically true, but it also wasn't. Wards weighed mana against mana, whether it be the quantity of the energy or how it was used. This field in particular was littered with mana disruption wards, thousands of the things just below the surface of the dirt. “I see them now, but what's the point?”

“To drag them into the crater and trap them in a disruption field.” Tyr shrugged, and she had to admit it wasn't an awful idea... A trench was an odd thing to dig when it was clear they'd be fighting other human nations. Magic ensured that war craft and strategy must vary based on the situation at hand. Technically, any accords signing nation could not use magic on a mass scale in warfare as per the treaty, but Amistad was no longer the Amistad who'd signed – and she doubted the other nations would accept a renegotiation at this juncture.

They'd come here with all of the collective might they could gather and rain death down from the lip of the crater. Amistad wasn't a fortress, it didn't occupy an advantageous defensive position and without its impressive enchantments it existed as the proverbial barrel of fish. In fact, digging trenches so far from the city was handing over a fortified position to the enemy. But now she could see the purpose behind his actions. If Baccia settled down inside there, they'd burn like so much kindling.

Below, people were doing similar things, just on a grander scale – here they were building a stopgap and ringing the basin with anti-flight wards, disruption wards, and an almost impossibly large collection of offensive arrays that would serve as landmines. She'd known Tyr had talent in magic, it was instinct rather than knowledge, but never before had Tyr displayed such mastery over complex array formulation, she could see he'd made them himself too. A great many, and those he had were the best ones...

“We're going to wait for them to descend, naturally, after skirmishing – and then we'll activate the wards when they follow us down. No point in staying in the trenches, they'll have their backs to a wall.”

“It's not the worst plan, I guess.” She observed, feeling again that something was a bit off about him, but somewhat impressed nonetheless. Gideon and Jartor both had taught her how to recognize an impostor, and this was certainly the same Tyr that she remembered. His mana signature was identical, but his behavior was so very different. “Have you always had a mind for warfare? I did not know you had an interest in it.”

“It's good to be ready for anything.” He shrugged, resting an arm on his shovel and staring off into this distance with an odd look on his face. “But truth be told, it wasn't me who came up with this plan.”

“Really?” She asked. “Tiber then?”

He shook his head. Tiber and most of the blackguard had been mysteriously absent for some time, with Samson and a handful of original members serving as auxiliary guards for the palace. Fennic and Mikhail had been surprisingly diligent in their duties – rarely speaking and sharp eyed. Something had changed within them, she just wasn't sure what, chalking it up to the fact a very real war was coming.

“I first consulted with the various archmages.” Tyr said. “But their plans boiled down to 'shoot big magic do big damage'. Silly little men. They had no inkling whatsoever of siege rationing, shelter capacity, raid drills, supply lines. The battle-mages think they'd just walk up and out of the crater and engage an army on their own. A plan even worse than mine.”

“Not shocking.” Alex snorted, wars were uncommon in this era and Amistad was not an 'armed state', they had a small token force of guards but no actual army. The mages would surely have considered themselves below such things, but magic wasn't as effective as one might think it'd be. Surely it was a force multiplier, but mana mechanics on a large scale were poorly understood because of how peaceful the era had been.

Once so many spells started flying, the atmospheric mana went wild and became harder to control. That's why in the empires all college mages carried mana crystals and foci on their person, eventually their spells would stop working altogether and a child with a knife would be just as dangerous as anything else. Typically mages existed in a support or siege role, or when necessary a host in each army of spellcasters that spent all their time countering one another. Sometimes they would engage one another many leagues from the site of a battle until one side was defeated, and the fight was typically over at that point. Most forces would just surrender if they found themselves the loser in that kind of altercation, but it was inconsistent. Too many variables were at play depending on the capability of each force, and only paladins and the like could wield mana without worry in a warzone. Sorcerers too, typically, but they'd still be less able for it – and it's not like bloodline mages were a dime a dozen.

What she expected was the opposing force to drop ether anchors on the lip of the crater and flatten Amistad with a blitz of mana engines, using the natural cover of the terrain to avoid most if not all of the return fire. That wouldn't be for many months though, mobilizations for war could take some time and she was sure that Hastur was going to give it a full year at a minimum before he struck so as to weaken their position.

Already, they'd lost all trade routes out of Amistad, except for their supply lines to Asmon. By conventional wisdom and consideration of crudeness to the wind, they were really and truly fucked. However, they possessed Tyr, a great deal of mages, and Iscari who had refused his father's command to return home. Many thought they stood a decent chance of winning, but those in power were those least at risk. Hastur had been clear in his campaign of propaganda that he wanted to cull the number of mages, and would avoid hunting down the accomplished spellcasters. Due to that, they'd lost nearly half of their standing guard, and only four archmages besides the academy personnel were backing them.

Which meant six, since only Lernin and Kael had publicly pledged to their cause thus far. And truth be told, they weren't counting on either when it really went down.

“Ah, where are my manners...” Tyr chuckled, jerking his thumb over to a fat raccoon seated on an ostentatious golden throne, looking a bit out of place given the gravel and pile of loose dirt it sat on. Oh, and the fact that it was a damned raccoon. Alex hadn't even seen the thing until its name was spoken. “This is Winston, our strategist for the time being.”

Alex's brow furrowed, staring at the creature as its tiny and uncomfortably human-like hands clutched the grape it was chomping at loudly. “You couldn't possibly mean the raccoon... Right?”

“You're lucky that I'm one of the more amicable representatives of my kind, frail human female.” Winston made a very human-like expression of disdain, impressive given his... Features. It was a raccoon. How was a damn raccoon supposed to look imperious? Ah, it was in the bright and intelligent golden eyes, an absolute unit of a lad if she'd ever seen one. Quite rotund for one of the procyon variety...

“Oh...” Alex collected herself mannerly, curtsying toward the small creature. “I had no idea you were beastkin, my apologies sir Winston.”

“Beastkin!?” He jerked his head to the side angrily, bearing his tiny teeth. Making a move to lurch forward until two smaller raccoons grabbed him with their tiny paws. Yelling at Alex throughout it all, making quite a scene, and surprisingly even the few notoriously fearless dwarves present were backing away nervously. “Beast kin!? The disrespect never ends! You shall suffer ten thousand deaths for this insult, hairless wench! I--”

Tyr held up a hand, and whatever agreement he had with this the raccoon bourgeois must've been observed in that moment, with Winston immediately huffing and slumping back down. “First...” Tyr said. “Winston is a female among her kind, and noted as one of the most celebrated beauties of her people. Second, raccoons are some of the most powerful common variety guardian beasts on the continent, her power is no inferior to Okami's own in any way – and she is far older. At least... Six centuries?” He looked toward the creature, and Winston shrugged her small shoulders in mock disinterest. Anyone could see, however, that she was quite pleased at his complimentary introduction. Powerful, maybe, but almost certainly vain beyond belief for creatures that ate garbage and existed only to be a menace to society. “I can assure you that my wife meant no offense, great one. I once encountered her race and it wasn't the best of meetings, but thankfully we've come to an accord. Isn't that right, my lady?”

He bowed to Winston, and the raccoon leaped forward from her throne – hovering in midair and 'flying' around the man's head like the moon around the planet they stood on... “And there you have it.” She purred very much like a cat as Tyr allowed her to lower herself into his arms and receive a scratch behind stubby ears. “Mine are the true rulers of this world, but I forgive you for your discourtesy and ignorance alike. Few know of our divine heritage and I ask that you do not make it known to any more than necessary. In exchange, we will not wipe your filthy race from the face of the earth. Is this a bargain?”

“Ah...” Alex paused, squinting at the small... Raccoons weren't rodents but they didn't have such a wide range of mammalian ancestors to ring familiar in her head. Still wondering if procyon was the right word to use... “This is a fine bargain, I thank the emissary of your most magnanimous race and if it is grapes you like, we've many vineyards in Riven that would see your belly full.”

“A bargain then.” Winston's eyes widened with barely contained greed, skittering out of Tyr's arms and onto one of his sturdy shoulders. Perched there, she extended a hand and Alex took it. But suddenly...

“Best get on now.” Tyr moved Alex gently to the side, his drawl returning to a voice that had become a bit more normal for a brief moment. Separating the two and drawing a blunt hammer from his belt, plucking his shovel from the ground with the other hand. “Go on, get!”

“Tyr...?” Alex replied in confusion, nothing seemed out of sorts but it was hard to miss Nala with her eyes darting side to side, hackles raised and snarling. “What's wrong?”

“Leave, Alexis.” Tyr said calmly, his words punctuated by the gale winds that came from his swinging hammer, smashing a whistling ballista bolt from the sky that seemed to appear in midair with no prior warning. “Bad things coming.”