‘How hard can it be to kill a dragon?’ wasn’t something that Harmon would ever have actually asked his wife, but it was something that he’d thought. She’d been inside the demiplane for more than a week, and taken a number of runs at it from different angles, all with the element of surprise and usually with the element of foreknowledge.

There were a few reasons that Harmon would never have asked ‘how hard can it be to kill a dragon?’ He understood that most things were more difficult than they first looked, with specialist knowledge usually being non-obvious and hard-won. He had accumulated a number of skills in his life, and while there were certain things that were deceptively simple in whatever field he tackled, mostly it was domain knowledge that interlocked with other domain knowledge. So he knew it was entirely possible that taking down a dragon was more involved than just cutting its head off.

The other major reason that Harmon would never have asked the question was that Ria was obviously quite upset about the whole thing.

“I don’t think we need to kill her now,” he said. “The battalion isn’t there so they can end her life, they’re there so that if diplomacy fails, there’s some way of containing the problem.”

“We need to kill her specifically for the sake of diplomacy,” said Ria. “Once, at least, so we know the extent of what she’s got up her sleeve. If someone comes to you with a sword in hand and asks you for money, you’d want to know their skill level so that you know how much you need to give them.”

“That’s a terrible analogy,” said Harmon.

“I’m a dungeoneer, not a wordsmith,” said Ria. “In my personal testing of her limits, I’ve come up short. Either I test with the battalion, or we get her outside of the demiplane and test her there — which, in my opinion, you should have done when you were placing the battalion in.”

Harmon had been instrumental in that, though he certainly wouldn’t have said that it was primarily his doing. He had been running things outside the demiplane, transmitting information and speaking with Ria, getting the government involved as much as seemed advisable while still attempting to keep information from leaking back to Cate somehow.

They knew from some of the things Cate had said that she was keeping track of the outside world, at least a little bit, though not nearly as much as Harmon would have expected. She was keeping herself sequestered, as she’d said she would, which he believed to be partly for the sake of her own safety. He’d used the children to help look for her, which increased the total surveillance while keeping the circle of trust, and had used what Ria had reported in order to allocate their resources.

They’d finally caught sight of Cate when she went to visit a place that she must have thought no one would know about: the island she’d left the previous denizens of her demiplane on.

Harmon had wanted to get in contact with Inter as quickly as possible, to let them know that this island held a decent number of people who would likely welcome civilization with open arms. They were not, technically, citizens of Inter, being generations removed from the demiplane settlers, but Inter would step in, as it liked to do — their country engaged in a bit too much intervention for the sake of some.

Ria had instead argued that it was too much information to give up to Cate and too useful a trap.

They had argued about it, which was mostly an ethical argument of the kind that neither of them particularly liked. In the end, Harmon had said there were limits to how long he’d allow those people to go uncontacted, and Ria had agreed that she would try to hurry things along as best she could.

In the end, it had worked, and Ria had been vindicated. Harmon had gotten everything ready well in advance, and because the day was undone, well in advance meant ‘before the thing had even happened’. He’d given advice to the battalion and the diplomats who were a part of it, which included a full debrief on Cate’s known abilities, the features of the demiplane, and what Ria had observed through twenty different battles. That was just about all he could do though, and he stayed on the outside, waiting.

He’d never liked waiting, especially not for Ria. When she did multiday dungeons, he had always found himself fretting. She was a chrononaut, yes, but there were circumstances a chrononaut couldn’t beat, and many of those circumstances could be found in the incredibly tough dungeons that Ria and her party went down into. This was no different, though he worried that Ria had gone into it with a dungeoneer’s mindset.

But the diplomatic solution seemed as though it was on the table, and still Ria was there, lending her power to the battalion, who was otherwise dependent on awkward setups to get chrononaut support. The barrier between the demiplane and the real world was troublesome, the exit easy but the entrance gated.

“You’re planning to not disclose this final fight?” asked Harmon the day after Alfric’s diplomatic foray appeared to have worked.

“Alfric has already disclosed that I’ve made a number of attempts on her life,” said Ria. “He also disclosed that I haven’t actually won, which I’ll bet she loved.”

“That’s good for us,” said Harmon. “It makes her feel superior, generous.”

“It makes her feel like we’re weak,” said Ria. “Surely we don’t want to be too weak, or she won’t agree to our demands. And I’ll leave disclosure for the diplomats to decide, I don’t plan on having a chat with her. I am, after all, a dungeoneer, not a diplomat.”

“You give them advice though, right?” asked Harmon. “You’re in on their meetings, talk to them about what’s happened in their previous iterations of the day, surely they’re not just ignoring you?”

“They aren’t,” said Ria. “So yes, I do advise that we get a win. At least one? It’s not something that we need to spend huge amounts of time or effort on, but it lets us gauge who and what she is.”

“I don’t like it,” said Harmon. “But I suppose this is my day, not yours, so this is more about whether when you talk to me you’ll be talking to someone who grudgingly agrees or someone who doesn’t.”

“I’m just hoping to find something,” said Ria. “That’s all.”

It was, of course, more than that, but he didn’t say that, because he felt that she knew it.

In the end, she was vindicated again, but not for the reason that they might have hoped: Cate had contingencies.

~~~~

The chrononauts didn’t meet together for business often, but there were plans in place for when they needed to, especially when they needed to on short notice. They had a large hall and an entad that amplified voices, and while this was nowhere near the full group, there were more than twenty of them. Harmon normally wouldn’t have been asked to come, but he’d spoken to a few of the elders about what Ria was up to, and he was there because of that. It was a large hall and a long table, gently bowed out so that people could see each other even if they were on the same side.

“The dragon, Cate, has left traps,” said Mollo. He was one of the two in charge. He was scarred in a way that spoke to their deep North Tarbin heritage — something he’d adopted late in life, not having been born to it. “If she dies, or if she’s captured, it means calamity in both Plenarch and Dondrian. We’ve burned nineteen days on this so far, and needed to come to some conclusion on the way forward.”

It was like that with chrononauts sometimes, a conversation already accomplished. Here, they spoke to him because his role had already been determined, a path forward chosen, possibly with his help.

“How many dead?” asked Harmon.

“Five thousand in Dondrian, on the first day,” said Poddo. She was one of the oldest chrononauts, at least among those with some decision-making ability, wrinkled and gray. “Thirteen thousand in Plenarch. Seventeen thousand in Veria.”

“Less, with evacuation and containment,” said Mollo, waving a hand. “Starting at the witching hour, we can get everyone to safety, though it’s difficult to confirm, and both the Dondrian and Veria calamities can be contained without all that much property damage. We’ve been working on defusing them before they can happen, but it’s not simple, even knowing where they start from.”

“But it’s been linked back to Cate?” asked Harmon.

“She left notes,” said Poddo. “Explanations of what happened and why. Apparently she had reason to believe that someone might try to kill her.”

“Hmm,” said Harmon. “Paranoia, mostly, unless she placed those traps very recently. She was hoping to stop someone from trying to kill her?”

“Chrononauts, specifically,” said Mollo, shaking his head. “As deterrents, they’re not perfect, we could spend another set of days, make different approaches, break out tools and weapons that we use only rarely — or we could simply have Ria know, as soon as possible, to put an end to this.”

“If there are traps, they’ll need to be dealt with,” said Harmon.

“We know of three,” said Poddo. “But I’ve read the notes. Three is not all there are.”

“No?” asked Harmon.

“The traps were meant for us,” said Mollo. “Unacceptable loss of life for a chrononaut to stop, a beacon that would light up if the dragon died. Those traps were easy enough for us to get to, to save people from — which is why it was assumed that there would be someone to read her letters. In them, she details other calamities that we’d be incapable of stopping. An example, she stresses that this is only an example, would be a poison that would spread through a city and show no symptoms until well-after the witching hour had passed.”

“It’s not clear how these traps were triggered,” said Poddo. “The only reason we know there’s a link between the dragon’s death and these calamities is that there were letters left for us, and we knew for certain that Ria was attempting to kill her today.”

“Some kind of dead man’s switch,” said Harmon. “Difficult, given the planar barrier. A check-in?”

“From what we know, it happens exactly as she dies,” said Poddo. “We don’t know what happens to a demiplane when a dragon dies, because we know so little about both those things. These Wildlands … something happens to them, which triggers something else, which triggers her contingencies? We don’t know. We could spend days attempting to figure it out, but this is disrupting and clouding everything.”

“You want me to deliver a message to her to stop?” asked Harmon. They were concerned about their vision for the day ahead, the things that must have been cloaked because of deaths or evacuations.

“This is not actually an emergency,” said Poddo. “It’s only someone who feels clever using their own custom chrononaut solution to save their skin — albeit someone whose very life is threatened by a chrononaut.”

“I can do that,” said Harmon. “She won’t be pleased, but I think she’d agree that this is far more hassle than it’s worth.” He wasn’t entirely sure she would agree.

“It’s good for Inter to know these traps exist,” said Poddo with a sigh. “This is, unfortunately, an intersection of our interests with the government’s, which isn’t what we want at this juncture, not with other scandals too fresh in peoples’ minds.” He was speaking of Lola, though obliquely. The girl had relatives in the room. “We’ll let you know what we know, then there’s agreement to let the day go through. She’ll need to be absolutely certain to reset, especially if the attacks happen again.”

“Will do,” said Harmon. He really didn’t need to be told twice, but it was difficult for those with higher priority to let the reins slip.

When Ria came out of the demiplane at the appointed time, she had already heard the news, because it wasn’t her first time through the day.

“You could have come out early,” said Harmon.

“Better to keep it consistent,” said Ria. She let out a long, low sigh. “It’s all been called off.”

“Good,” said Harmon. “Then it will be settled diplomatically.”

“It takes a real snot-rag of a person to kill civilians in an undone day just to get a reset,” said Ria. “I hope that counts against her. It’s also very much something we don’t want to encourage.”

“Undone days don’t count,” said Harmon. He chuckled, and she glared at him. “She’s turned the tables on you, you have to admit that’s a little funny. You were going to kill her in an undone day just to see whether you could, on the thought that it was alright to kill because it doesn’t ‘count’, and she’s also killed people because it doesn’t ‘count’, which you’d never have found out if you hadn’t gone in against her.” Ria was clearly not seeing the humor. “I woke up this morning to an emergency meeting of chrononauts, and now it’s dissolved away to nothing, I think it’s okay that I’m relieved, right?”

“It is,” she sighed, in a way that made it feel like it wasn’t actually okay. “I’m sorry, I love you, this is just very trying, and I never got to actually do it, only reports from timelines where I did it.”

“That’s how it is,” he said with a shrug. He’d gotten the same reports. “Never a perfect kill.”

“No,” said Ria. “Always losses, either entads or people, usually both.”

“But you did kill her,” said Harmon. “And on her home turf. That’s something, right?”

“I just wanted to remember it,” said Ria. “All I remember are losses. I’m not used to losing.”

“You’re a winner,” said Harmon, smiling at her. “That’s what I love about you.”

“Yes, well, this is your day to remember, so remember to prepare the house for me. I’ll be out soon.” She sighed again. “Give the children my love.”

“Of course,” said Harmon.

~~~~

Three days after they’d sat on their uncomfortable chairs on the mountaintop, Cate met with the diplomatic team from Inter. They had only two people, a lead negotiator and a higher-up in the government, with no military to be seen. Cate came in her human form, with a larger entourage, and Isra could immediately see that this made her look weak. She was puffing herself up like a small animal that had been backed into a corner, and that was worrying, because the meeting would go better if they were instead meeting as equals, like two dogs sniffing each other.

There was also a threat inherent in Inter only sending two people. It meant that they had hidden resources elsewhere, certainly in the form of chrononaut backup, but perhaps entad support for their diplomats, or a military force that could appear at a moment’s notice.

The meeting was taking place in Inter, rather than in the demiplane, Cate’s sovereignty respected at least in that regard. Yet there was a threat there too, that there were people inside the demiplane, a battalion, who likely wouldn’t leave until the threat had been fully resolved, and perhaps not even then. The stick was being kept from view, the carrot dangled in front.

It felt good, to Isra, to be back in the real world. Their entire party had been brought out, since they were in some technical sense agents of Inter — though they’d never signed up for that. Still, they were on Cate’s side of the negotiation, physically if not entirely in spirit. They stood well away from the actual negotiation table, which sat in a wide field with a type of short grass that seemed to have choked the life from the soil and prevented anything else from being grown there.

asked Mizuki.

said Alfric.

asked Isra. She was curious about that, because this seemed like the end, rather than a beginning.

said Verity.

said Mizuki.

Isra looked at her.

Mizuki asked.

said Alfric.

asked Mizuki.

said Alfric.

said Verity.

asked Isra.

said Mizuki.

Verity was silent, and Isra looked at her. asked Isra.

said Verity. She glanced at Alfric. Isra knew that Alfric felt affection for the place too, though in a much different way.

said Alfric.

asked Mizuki.

said Alfric.

said Mizuki.

said Verity.

asked Mizuki.

said Verity.

asked Alfric. He had asked her to go into the Wildlands before and been declined, though part of that was because her ‘purpose’ within the demiplane was to speak with Cate.

said Verity. She swallowed, visibly.

asked Alfric.

said Verity. She looked at Alfric.

said Alfric.

she replied.

Mizuki tapped her foot and had her arms folded. She was watching the negotiations, which were well past their first hour.

said Alfric.

said Verity. She let out a breath.

asked Alfric.

said Verity.

said Isra.

asked Mizuki.

said Alfric.

said Hannah. She did have her arms folded, and was looking disgruntled. She had new clothes, ones that had been made for her by Liara, which really did suit her. Liara was away from their group, looking anxious.

said Alfric.

said Hannah, looking at the table.

said Verity.

said Hannah.

said Verity.

said Alfric.

asked Mizuki.

said Alfric.

said Hannah.

said Alfric.

said Mizuki.

Isra looked, worried that there’d been some sort of blow up, but Cate was gliding over to the group with a smooth motion and a mild expression on her face.

“I’ve suggested that we take a break for lunch and so that I have an opportunity to confer in-depth,” said Cate.

“Excellent,” said Liara. “You’ve been doing wonderfully so far.”

“Then we’ll have food,” said Cate. She clapped her hands once, and a full dining table appeared with plates, food, and seats for everyone that was a part of ‘her’ side. This included Isra’s party, who had been against Cate from the start and did a pretty significant amount of sneaking and spying. That this was all considered to be ‘in the past’ was a bit shocking to Isra, who had never been terribly quick to forgive and forget.

They ate in relative silence while the two government diplomats ate their own modest meal not far away. The full team involved had to be much bigger than just those two, and Isra wondered whether they were eating lunch too, the battalion of people that were apparently still in the demiplane, the countless advisors who were likely onhand to offer advice to those two … she didn’t know how many people were involved, but she imagined that it would be like the entire town of Pucklechurch coming together for a major problem, so many people that many of them were simply in charge of telling others where to go and what to do.

The meal was herby fish with vegetables, a light and simple affair, but Isra couldn’t really focus on it. Everything seemed like it was up in the air, not just with the fate of the demiplane, but with the party as well.

“So,” said Cate as she pushed her plate away. “There are some sticking points, and I thought I would get the opinions from around the table before I returned. Inter is requesting reparations, which I will happily pay, and remuneration from my citizens, which I’m much less inclined to agree with. Debts incurred by those in Inter have no means of being collected without my consent, and that, I’m afraid, is more than I’m willing to give up. I would pay the debts in full, but in a few cases they’re quite large.”

She waited, and it became clear she was waiting for opinions.

“Unless the government owns some of the debt, it’s a matter between individuals rather than states,” said Alfric. “Kiromo does cooperate with Inter, I think, but that’s because they want Inter to do the same. That doesn’t apply for you, unless you hold debt, which I don’t imagine you do.”

“I’ve said the same,” replied Cate with a nod. “It’s unreasonable.”

“Well, not unreasonable, ay?” asked Hannah. “There’s some reason to it. They don’t want people to rack up payments they can’t afford and then run off into your demiplane.”

“Hmm,” said Cate. “Yes, thank you, I do think that gives me an idea.”

When the talks resumed, the table disappeared, and the party was left off to the side, speaking with each other.

asked Mizuki.

said Alfric.

said Mizuki.

said Verity.

asked Mizuki.

said Alfric.

said Verity.

Alfric looked at her.

said Verity.

asked Alfric.

said Verity.

said Mizuki.

said Isra.

said Mizuki.

said Hannah.

said Verity.

said Alfric.

Verity began.

said Alfric.

said Verity.

said Alfric. He gave a sigh.

asked Mizuki.

said Alfric.

Isra stayed tight-lipped. They were dancing around the subject of whether they were going to stay together, but no one seemed to want to bring it up again.

The party was the reason that she’d turned down Cate’s offer, which had been made a month ago. She had the memories of it now, which seemed clearer than other month-old memories, and that might have been because of how the memory was returned to her. She’d been at a different part of her life then, less worldly, but she’d felt closer to the party then, less like they were being pulled in their own separate directions.

She wanted to tell Alfric that she still needed him, that he shouldn’t go, but no one else was saying it, and she worried that he would gently explain that he needed some distance from the party. They had said that they would try something to deal with the dungeons, but it felt like a last gasp, as though their ‘one more thing’ wouldn’t work out and then that would be it.

Most of the chatter among the party wasn’t terribly important. Mizuki was eager to get a delayed start on becoming a wizard, Hannah was eager to see Marsh (which Mizuki teased her for), and Verity had a delayed trip to Dondrian to speak with her father about his sound making machine and the music she was meant to provide it. From everything they knew, life hadn’t moved on much while they’d been absent, though they hadn’t even been in the demiplane for all that long.

When the sun began to get low in the sky, Cate broke from the negotiations again, this time for the day. There would be more talking, which was apparently going well, another day of it, which wasn’t just because there was more to talk about, but in order to guard against the chrononauts and the potential for them to pick the best day out of the lot.

The party went back with Cate, which they had expected but still seemed a little crazy to Isra. She wanted to go home — Mizuki’s home — but was worried that when she did go home, it wouldn’t be the same as before.