Boghi: a so-called goblin ‘village’, and the original stomping grounds of the Fanx tribe. It was only a day or so from Montar Jungle, but the horrendous conditions of the terrain made it take a good half-day longer. However, when crumbling marsh gave way to rotting wooden planks, Phyrn’s chosen knew they had finally stumbled across some semblance of civilisation.

Tecal had, once again, departed their company, not staying in Littlenest long enough to celebrate. By the time everyone else had woken up from their well-earned sleep, she had already vanished. She’d probably headed out and made a straight line to Dunlark. It might’ve been quicker to follow in Tecal’s footsteps and head straight there, but rushing headlong into the lair of the enemy was not a tactic that usually worked, at least not for those lacking in the aevischild’s indomitable strength; whatever Tecal encountered there while rendezvousing with her own forces, everyone was silently sure that she’d be able to take care of herself.

For now, this squalid little smattering of huts and walkways would serve as a decent enough platform for a bit of reconnaissance; the goblins were not difficult to enlist as scouts, taking only a few measly coins to be bought, which didn’t put much of a dent at all in the fortune the party had amassed by now.

“It’s sad, in a way,” Emilie bemoaned. “They have so little, and worship the petty commission we offer.”

“If they bring back good information,” Krey said, “perhaps we can afford to give them a more charitable donation.”

“We have more to pay for yet,” Livia pointed out. “Hunting game in these parts can’t be easy; we’ll need to depend on the local talent to catch our dinner, and that’ll warrant coin too.”

“Well, I for one am happy about that!” Pippy proclaimed. “All that money we repossessed from the Garnet Inquisition… I like the idea that we’re redistributing it to wholesome folk like these goblins.”

“Sure,” Krey nodded, “so long as they don’t end up using it to buy weapons for raiding supply caravans or something.”

“We can debate the sociopolitical issues of the new and old ways another time,” Emilie urged. “For now, I would very much like to find a good spot for setting up camp. Even my blessed shroud is beginning to struggle resisting the sheer foulness of these marshes…”

“Aye, milady,” Krey acknowledged, a smile threatening to form on his lips despite his efforts to keep his voice terse.

The denizens of Boghi had been less than hospitable at first; humans were no a common sight in the Marshlands, and when they were seen, it usually wasn’t a good thing for the locals. However, once they had explained they were friends of the Fanx tribe, and had assisted them in the jungle, things became less tense, and they had been allowed to purchase local services. Some might have scoffed at the notion of calling them ‘services’, or giving any sort of modern, sophisticated implication to goblin society, but Phyrn’s chosen each had their own ways of circumventing prejudice. Livia had been fascinated with all of Berodyl’s cultural aspects so far, and the goblins were no exception; Krey had met them in battle, and knew firsthand that the old ways were not to be disrespected; Emilie saw all as one under the banner of the gods; Pippy simply had a gift for acceptance, a gift that is sadly rare.

They respected the boundaries and unease that could be felt in the air, deciding to make camp a short ways out from the edge of the village. The goblins they’d hired had no trouble finding them, their scouts being accustomed to sniffing out the tinge of mana created by human-made traveller motes. They even helped shore up the foundations of the pavilion, which had generated surprisingly well itself considering the incredibly unideal terrain it had been summoned upon.

While Krey and Emilie tended to the camp, Pippy and Livia slipped away to get some fresh air… and remarkably fresh it was for such a mucky place. Perhaps laced with the odd uncomfortable aroma or two, but still crisp and light and easy to breathe. It was air untouched by industry, by densely-packed populations and their dense currents of mana.

“The mana is thin here,” Pippy smiled. “Not weak, but free. I knew a vesper once, tragic little thing. She would’ve found her peace here. Such a shame…”

“Vesper?” Livia cocked a brow.

“Vespers are channellers by birth, who take in the mana around them whether they choose to or not. Living in the magic capital of Aubade was wonderful for most people…”

“But not for her,” Livia nodded. “A powerful burden… one that others might even envy.”

“One she didn’t even choose,” Pippy lamented. “She eventually died of repetitive shock; her own magic eroded both her mind and soul away, until she was just a feral husk. Sage Cid the Red himself put her out of her misery by then, but… at that point, everyone knew she’d already died in the only way that mattered. Killing the body that remained was little more than nailing the coffin shut.”

“Why didn’t she leave the city?”

“Life in the city wasn’t just glamorous… it was brilliant. If you’d made it there, then you’d earned the freedom of magical exploration that had been afforded you. We’d discuss imported texts from other worlds over breakfast, brainstorm spells with the Marble Thaumaturges in the day, visit the Wayward Bazaar in the evening, read new and fascinating materials long into the night… then wake up and do it all again the next day. We were the next generation of a world’s greatest magical talent, we got anything we wanted.”

“I guess you don’t just walk away from a life like that,” Livia murmured.

Pippy nodded. “Even if it’s killing you a little more each day. I remember, when the sage personally laid her to rest, he made a public statement about her. He said her dedication, her determination, and her courage were… oh, how did he put it…” she took a moment to compose her thoughts. “He said: she was of the calibre our art doesn’t just demand, but needs. Her sacrifice for the expansion of our understanding of magic will persist as a reminder for all those who take our sacred power for granted.” She sighed. “Maybe he believed what he said… but I knew better. I knew what she was really like. She didn’t leave because she loved magic— though, of course, she did. She stayed because, more than anything, she hated the idea of being alone. Not that… she ever confided those thoughts in me.”

“You read her soul, didn’t you?”

“I did. She was furious when she found out… but, thankfully, she came to me and forgave me just in time.”

“Just in time… right before she started losing herself to the erosion, you mean?”

“Yep.”

After a few long, stabilising breaths, Pippy continued. “Actually, for the longest time, I’ve been trying to stop reading souls altogether. I haven’t looked at yours in a while now… and even the times when I did, I regretted it.”

“Really?” Livia raised an eyebrow. “Why? Doesn’t it come naturally to you now? You said you’d been practising red magic since you were… what, ten? Eleven?”

“I just… that old friend of mine made me realise that people don’t appreciate being seen so nakedly, even by close friends.”

“Well…” Livia shrugged, looking away for a moment. “I don’t mind.”

“Yes you do,” Pippy smiled thinly.

A brief silence fell again, and it felt lengthier this time.

“Pippy…” Livia managed to speak just above a whisper. “I… I’m not sure I want this.”

“Want what?” Pippy leaned forward now, her eyes lighting up with a new focus.

“This… lifestyle. Being an adventurer. It feels like it’s just going to cause more pain… and not just for me, but for you too. And the others.”

Pippy smiled, and her voice bubbled with amusement. “Well then, aren’t you lucky to have a partner like me? I’m having to come to terms with the exact same feelings, Livia… and I’m realising more and more each day that sharing these adventures with you is absolutely worth the risks we take.”

“What do you mean by ‘partner’?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Pippy winked.

“I thought you were trying to give up your soul reading,” Livia prodded.

“In your case, I don’t need to do any soul reading; it’s written all over your face.”

Livia blushed, averting her eyes and emitting a faint, gravelly tone.

When she regained her composure, Livia’s voice took a sombre turn. “I’m afraid, Pippy. I know we’ve faced some tough stuff so far, but… that forsaken city might be the end of us. We’re almost certainly walking into a deathtrap.”

“In that case,” Pippy replied with unfailing jocularity, “you’d better have everything in oder, and nothing left to regret.”

“You think so?” Livia moved round to sit closer to Pippy. Pippy responded by scooting closer as well, meeting her half way. Livia almost didn’t realise it when she started slowly reaching a shaky arm across to put a hand on Pippy’s far shoulder; she nearly didn’t lean in to kiss her. Once that first move had been made, though, there was no stopping the avalanche, and it wasn’t long before they were disrobing right there in the marshes, gripped in a passion stronger than any regard for their less-than-romantic surroundings.

The two last aubadeans surrendered to the nature surrounding them and the nature within them, baring to each other their most natural forms and making love there in the mud. For this fleeting time, the two survivors were as free as the magic on the wind.