Jeff stretched in the white sheets of his bed, his brown eyes taking in the faint rays of sunlight lighting up the domain he called home, which was mostly stone walls and ceiling. The fireplace on his right was dead, having only a few faint whisps of the flames that had been in the seamless stone alcove just the night prior. As was the custom in a place this far north, the lightning mage’s first reaction was to pull further back into his cloth protection against the bitter cold that not even plush accommodations like these could fully arrest.

In keeping with that ancient tradition, he eventually abandoned the position and embraced the awaiting fate with a dramatic throw of the blue blankets from his person and wave of his grey hair. Getting up and planting his feet on the cold fur rug, Jeff could only continue the daily routine. Picking some fresh clothes from the drawer on the left, the man just out of boyhood left the room through the door in the corner opposite the bed.

When he came out onto the hallway, there was some chatter from the door opposite his. A soft undercurrent of mostly feminine voices with the occasional word from his brother. Despite their ‘infertility’, Andrew had been keeping his bed quite warm through less laborious means. Or more, depending on what one defined as work. The local head of the Front believed their story, and the lack of missed cycles from the women Andrew bedded seemed to confirm it, owing to the Yook Root laced kisses he gave the girls. Still, they were male mages and there was always the possibility that the seed could take after enough attempts.

An experiment Jeff had wrangled himself out of so far.

The routine quickly set in. A quick bath with warm water in the shower shed in the back of the yard and stew served by their personal chef. Despite the great luxury, no amount of coin could get the perpetual heat of Eli’s heaters nor replicate the taste of vegetables picked just the day before. An unfair comparison, but when Winter’s bite was constantly nipping at the edges of his body no matter where he was, it was hard not to notice the contrast.

As prepared for the day as he could be, Jeff headed through the front door and out onto the street wearing a brown coat, matching pants, and white shirt. The houses were all of the same style, glass fronts with steel sides and frames. His abode was a bit further from the main entrance than most but it provided the most privacy as it rested at the top of the hill. Aside from that, all the houses had a similar size with a few features such as pools or balconies. Even the odd yellow boxes on poles standing in between the houses with three glass half circles became downright normal in his growing comfort with the city.

A brisk walk down the street took him past several crowds of servants. This far north and at this time of year, most mages had left even before pirates became an issue with some returning for their portion of the Kispin harvest. Those that had stayed behind for one of a hundred different reasons wouldn’t deign to go among the unwashed masses without a personal guard, not that there was much of anything in the rest of the city to tempt people away from the safety of the stout walls surrounding its richest quarter.

The ice biting at his exposed skin did nothing to persuade him from his magical colleague’s wisdom. Moving down the quarters roads and out the entrance gates, he went straight to the harbor office directly ahead. The three-story mansion that served as the center of government for the oceanic affairs of government here stood out among the regular foot traffic as it always did, even more so now that various craftsman on scaffolding swarmed its surface fixing bits of damage from the pirate raid. Its brown tiled roof and ever-present yellow box on a black pole to the left were the same as ever. A faint memory of carefully looking out the red-tiled lookout tower in the middle of the blocky office building presented itself. As did the stench of blood. And shrill screaming.

It was the first time he had been in a life-and-death fight with other humans. He had seen people die when Eli had massacred them in their escape, but he hadn’t been involved. Instead, he left the butchery to the quad mage. There was no part of him who considered the congressman he ripped apart an actual person and, while he had been a bit hesitant at first, the reality of imminent death had quashed any moral wrangling about putting wind blades through throats. The lightning mage’s mind had become an increasingly foreign thing to him as reality wasn’t matching the tales of glory he had heard of in his youth nor was he the wreck some veterans had been made into after battle.

Going around the large grey walls of the office, he went through the double oak doors. Grey stone walls continued inside with the red carpet running down the middle of the hallway leading into the main room beyond. A makeshift wall of wood now obstructed the hallway, though the guards beyond let him past with no fuss. Jeff immediately took a left up the stairs to the second floor and turned right at the top of the staircase.

Two guards waited by the double doors. Clad in metal chest plates, shin guards and shoulder pads, the two burly men were almost as tanned as the leather showing between the steel. The black-haired man on the left nodded, making his black beard cover more of his chest plate. Quinton, if Jeff’s memory was still sound. The brown-haired man on the right was his brother, the name of which did not present itself in his mind.

“I’ll see if she’s available.” Quinton intoned patiently with a nod down showing off his bulbous nose. It was a little joke between them that had developed over his visits. The harbor office had almost become a crypt after the raid. Anyone with coin had left for safer territory further in the city. Those who lacked the means to do so didn’t have anything worth bringing to the harbormaster’s attention.

When the guard came back through the door, he only nodded towards the inside. Jeff hadn’t even made it through the door before the desired voice called him forward.

“Harold! Come in. Spirits know there’s nothing the two stiffs have to say.” Pache yelled, prompting a smile from her two guards as the lightning mage passed by.

In the office, the windowed sides gave a clear view of the dreary sky and soft rolling ocean slapping against the half-moon shaped harbor beyond. In the middle was an oak desk, at which sat the harbormaster rubbing her small chin. Her bowl of black hair was far shorter than most of her genders, which had the curious effect of making her large ears stick out even more. Tanned skin that was only just lighter than her brown dress peeked out between her clothes.

“Pache. It’s great to see you again. The lack of crunching glass is quite a nice touch.”

Moving to take the seat in front of her, Jeff met her green eyes. Those thick lips had some chap on them, but the smile they affected was as beautiful to him as any fine painting. Still, he wasn’t as free with his loins as his scion brother, and he was being slow in his interest. As slow as near daily visits could be, at least. Though, this one had been insisted upon by the woman in question.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her lap.

“And none of it mixed with my blood, in no small part thanks to you.” The water caster replied with that smile still plastered on her face. “Most wouldn’t have been able to craft the spell to blow the shards away in the time you did. Much less stuck around to slug it out.”

Jeff shrugged in as casual a manner as he could even as he felt a smirk steal across his face. He couldn’t tell her was trained at the best academy in the Coalition but his heart, buzzing in excitement at her praise, wouldn’t let him be totally modest.

“The nerves to carry out risky trade deals are often those called upon in battle. My skills in spell craft aren’t the best, but I have the advantage of not forgetting them under attack.”

Pache nodded as she leaned further back. Her piercing green eyes took him in, a look honed over a thousand stalls and negotiated fees. The face below them was blank aside from pursed lips.

“Bold.” She proclaimed. “Not bold enough to ask about my own magic, however.”

A pall of silence fell between them. Jeff wasn’t quite sure about what to make of that little tidbit. Aside from the peculiar existence of Eli, mages didn’t hide their talents. Recognition, prestige, convenience, and above all, pride wouldn’t allow for such a lie.

“Quite useful, that.” He offered with a light smile. “Bet it’s saved a few papers from a spilled drink.”

She tried to hold a laughing fit in for only a second before leaning forward with a hand on her desk to steady her heaving.

“Yes, I suppose it does have some use.” Pache choked out before regaining most of her composure. “My instructor probably hoped for a bit more, but he was also a real troll to work with sometimes.”

Pache had a few light chuckles left as she resumed her more serious manner.

“You seem to have a head for adventure and willfully coming here shows a stomach that can take risks.” Her hands drew together, twiddling her thumbs in some idle thoughts for a moment. Those green eyes went back and forth, following some internal fight before a sigh finally escaped her lips. What was more noticeable was the electric buzz of a spirit connection now coming from her.

‘They’re getting ready. Massing by the ruins of our former shield out on the ocean, from the reports. It’s taken them a bit, burning things down to size and fitting their ships with proper catapults, but they’re mostly ready now. A few more sunsets and the waters outside our bay will have more copper ships than any in living memory.’

Jeff gulped. His honest reaction didn’t draw any emotion from the woman, who sat silently as he gathered his senses. After a second, the obvious question came.

‘So soon? They can’t have dissected the battle so quickly. Unless it was to soften our defenses?’ The lightning mage asked with irritation. Paches’ lax shrug was her first response while her eyes drifted to the left out over the harbor.

‘Whatever they intended, the plant scion strangled it in on its mother’s breast. And that is what I think is making them so quick about this. The price to take this place goes up every day he’s working on the defenses and Palta has made sure the man is more secure than a King Beasts’ newborn.’

He hadn’t heard too much of the ‘plant scions’ dealings since the radio had been handed over to Gula and he was content to stew in ignorance to enjoy the niceties while everyone else ran around in panic. The quad mage’s Orc wife was here and if bets were laid down, Jeff put his coin on Eli brutally massacring everyone on the spot if the pirates made their way back into his wife’s territory again. A strong sense of safety, even if it came second-hand. He sat still having no quip on hand to lighten the mood or interrupt her.

‘This means… certain arrangements must be seen to.’ Pache continued with that internal wrangling now apparently finished. ‘And with all possible haste. North of here near the frozen wastes lays a small colony of fairies. In their possession are salted oysters.’

The involuntary raise of his eyebrows left no doubt as to how unimpressed he was with this grand secret. Pache leaned forward, her bowl of black hair rubbing against her smooth cheeks.

‘Magically infused oysters.’

The faint whisper sent an almost physical buzz up his spine. Even after all this time and the wonders he had seen, years of constant thrill over those coveted resources would not be denied.

‘They should have sent them in by now, but recent events have seen the shipment delayed, perhaps indefinitely. Our regular means are now far too dangerous, even if we had a ship available. A boat, however, could make the trip. If it was assisted with wind magic.’

A few different reasons for the offer sprung to Jeff’s mind. Perhaps she couldn’t make the trip due to her duties here. Doing paperwork instead of getting those blessed resources didn’t seem right to him. Maybe wind was faster than water magic on a boat. He had no experience with such things, so any judgment made there would have no solid backing.

‘Is our merry trip north going to be long?’ He asked, probing for the first of many details. She shook her head in denial.

‘I cannot attend. It will be you and Quinton. Hard winter winds and rough seas await you. But… Well, isn’t that prize always worth it?’

It was.

Jeff’s first impulse of greed came through all the doubt and questions. For all the sense of Eli’s vision of a world of neutered magic, certain impulses cemented through a lifetime of societal conditioning were still hard to deny. A good thing, after all. He was playing a semi-regular mage and such a person would salivate at the possibility.

‘What would happen if the pirates came and we haven’t made it back? Do we just drift on the seas like a stray branch?’ He asked, crossing his arms and letting his genuine interest show through. Pache pulled back a bit, assuming a more upright posture.

‘Beasts are few farther north of here. Quinton has made such a trip in the past and he knows of a few areas that a small group could hold up in if travel south becomes impossible.’

‘Even if I was up for some time on these freezing seas, what portion of the cargo would I be receiving for this…service?’

She bit her lip at that, weighing her offer for a moment before delivering.

‘Seven percent seems fair.’

Jeff unfolded his arms, strumming his fingers on the chair’s armrest through a second of pondering.

‘Isn’t ten percent a much nicer number? Makes the math simpler for all involved.’

Those green eyes got a mirth to them, contrasting with her slight scowl.

‘If the esteemed gentlemen won’t stoop to toiling with hard division, I’ll be more than glad to personally walk him through every step. Eight percent, with services starting later tonight.’

That was a pretty typical exchange based on Jeff’s limited knowledge of similar arrangements. Satisfied, he nodded in agreement.

“Excellent,” Pache announced audibly with a clasp of her hands. “You’ll meet Quinton behind the office and things will proceed from there.”

Their conversation then turned to idle chatter, as it always did, and ended with the typical goodbyes after an hour or so. The rest of Jeff’s day continued on the same trajectory of routine with the ever-present salty air of a seaside city. A few tastings of local offerings, with some of the fresh vegetables of Eli’s stock sprinkled throughout. Near the later half, Andrew and his familiar, Gretton, joined at the regular time in the afternoon. The now more than knee-high ape still had those stripes of red mana on his forehead that lent a sharp contrast to his magically colored white fur. He drew some odd stares here and there, but most were content to take in the curio and leave the mages pet beast alone without complaint.

Three companions, ever present in each other’s lives for as long as they lived, sat in contentment at a wooden table on the second story of a bar at the front of the harbor. Soft crashing waves emanated from Jeff’s right while Andrew sat opposite, his longer brown hair waving back with a big swig of his mug washing down his order of beef stew. His brown coat and white shirt were unsullied even if his manners perfectly matched his familiars, who was munching a fish head with loud crunches to the scions left. Some would consider such a display rude, though not as rude as the loud gasp of air from Andrew when he lowered the mug.

“Ahh. Sounds like a nice little excursion.” The fire scion said, pushing aside his empty soup bowl with a content look in his brown eyes and a wipe of his strong cheekbones. “Maybe you’ll finally get up her dress.”

Jeff rolled his eyes, his finger tracing the lip of his mug.

“Such a romantic I have for a brother.”

Andrew only shrugged at the banter.

“You think too much. Always worrying about saying things just the right way at only the right time. Women are people. And people don’t willingly spend time with someone they dislike. You probably could have had her warming your bed by now if you were just a little more upfront with what you want.”

Enjoying a forwardness that only a brother could provide, the lightning caster sniffed as he brought his mug of lukewarm ale to his mouth.

“My aims aren’t just testing the construction of my bed, unlike certain others. Have you forgotten that we’re here to… gather magical resources?”

A grim frown stole over Andrews's face. Of all the members of the original group, he had been the least convinced of Eli’s vision. Every now and then, when reminded of the sheer magnitude of what they were attempting, the fire scion drew up short. The moment passed, with a persona of confidence being quickly adopted by the brother.

“Hey, we’re mages. Mages get magical resources and make babies. And since you’re so unwilling to use your bed for its intended purpose, I’ll do the sex part and you can do the fighting rabid beasts part. The hull and sails of a ship, working together in one purpose.”

Jeff choked down a small laugh at that.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a bed’s primary purpose.”

A dismissive wave accompanied Andrew raising his mug.

“For the good ones, it is.” Was all he said before taking another swig. After a long second, Andrew put it down just below his chin. “Will this be a safe jaunt up north? I don’t suppose we could use a ship? Perhaps one of the faster variety.”

Jeff shook his head at the suggestive look Andrew gave him. For safety’s sake, he initiated a spirit connection. The expected huff of annoyance from Andrew came and went but his voice promptly reverberated through the lightning mage's mind.

‘I’m half tempted to just blurt out everything to that princess. Being flayed for helping an orc-mating mage would probably be less annoying than constantly having to use this.’

His brother’s voice grew less irritated near the end. Content to let the brother vent his poison out, Jeff waited for a second before continuing.

‘No airship. Not with the pirates coming. And you know what? I’m getting a bit tired of coming to Eli, beggar’s palm outstretched for some new miracle.

We were tutored by the best the Coalition has to offer. How many years did we spend spell crafting and all the nights after strung out in casting pain? I didn’t go through that just to ride on Eli’s talent.’

Andrew shrugged with a small smile.

‘I think that means we’re even more entitled to a long vacation. All those years of labor and now we have to go out on this mad scheme. You know… have we ever had a proper vacation? Not a diplomatic grind with people shoving endless facts and the lives of dead people into our heads, but a proper, do nothing for nothing vacation.’

Jeff shook his head as he sucked in his lips.

‘Never. Any time we tried to run off dad would…’

His throat clenched at the casual spouting of the dreaded word.

Dad.

Now the mood fully died, as Andrew seemed to turn a bit inward at the mention of their father. Even Gretton stopped his munching, so turbulent were his scion’s emotions. They sat there for a moment, trying to find some way out of the social horror they had stumbled into. Jeff, however, figured this was as good a time as any to address the spear driven through both their hearts.

‘Do you think he will ever forgive us?’

His brother sucked in his lips, saying nothing before trying to assume an air of confidence. The display was thoroughly betrayed by the tightness of the smile and licking of the lips, but it put Jeff’s nerve at ease by some small measure all the same.

‘We didn’t come here because rainbows and sunshine waited for us at the capital. Those ruthless animals were going to put us in the tribunal with a swift execution afterward. He’ll be too glad to know we managed to survive to be mad at the how. Especially if it means the bridge with the quad mage gets repaired. Which will be good if our purpose here succeeds.’

‘That simple? Just walk in and he’ll just overlook everything?’

Andrew nodded.

‘Remember when we were playing around the walls of that U-shaped building he always works at? More specifically, the time I burnt some of the bushes?’

Jeff couldn’t keep a small smile off his face as he strummed his fingers on the table.

‘And I tried to put it out with a gust of wind? It would be hard to forget. A wall of flames going up the entire side of a building gets a permanent place in memory.’

The fire scion pulled back with a more genuine smile than the one he had been forcing.

‘Really? It wasn’t the look on our minder’s face? Or dad’s when he came out on the lawn?’

The faint memory came to him, their father dressed in armor and finely crafted black hair. All undone by the wide, deep green eyes trying to take in the black charred wall and two sons looking at everything besides what was behind them.

A fit of giggles took him.

It was a moment of pure joy as Andrew joined. For a time, everything else faded. Two brothers joined in birth and merriment of times past was all that sat at the table. High spirits continued for a few more chortles before they both settled down.

‘And if he could forgive that, he’ll forgive anything.’

Jeff nodded in agreement. As nonsensical as it was, the conversation made him feel better. Getting up from their meal, the three left for their home in the mage's quarter. A few hours spent gathering a decent coat and clothes were spent, culminating in a sack of clothes put together with the typical care of a young man. Sunlight died early this far north, however, and he had to leave his somewhat warm abode all too soon.

Strobing pink, teal, and purple lights from the yellow boxes on poles dotting the streets played over his grey shirt and black pants as he made his way down the hill. A few minutes later he left the mage quarter’s walls and moved through the empty streets until he got behind the harbor office in near pitch-black darkness.

“Damn these lands and the ice-chapped asses of everyone who decided to settle here.” A familiar voice to the left said, with the typical good nature and grace accompanying the guard profession. Following the vague shape out to the military side of the harbor, the starlight eventually revealed his guide.

Quinton’s armor was leather with all the metal gone save for the sword fastened at the hip. His black beard had some ice around it and those green eyes told of a man ready to be done with his errand. The two bags on his back were also pretty full, no doubt adding to the man's foul mood.

“Not my favorite weather either.” Jeff agreed as he quickened his pace. Through the fog of his breath, the visage of a dozen or more ships in various stages of construction could be seen as black shapes in the faint light.

“Don’t worry. All the bribes have been paid out and we can be in our boat with no fuss.” Quinton offered as they made their way around the bend of a half-finished bow.

Jeff’s mouth opened, some naïve and stupid indignation about civil service and integrity on his lips. A small nod was all he returned as he moved between the stacks of wood and piles of ropes. Guards would occasionally walk by as they approached the tip of the crescent harbor, somehow failing to see the men who had filled their pockets.

Their destination turned out to be a wide boat at the smaller service dock near the very end of the stone wall. Tied to a post in the soft waves, this specimen was a bit wider than most and the thicker sides marked it better for sea travel than its kin. Bags of unseen items and a few curled blankets were put in the middle.

“There’s a rough outcropping of rocks north of here. We’ll get some travel in before staying the night there.” Quinton spat out as he moved into the front of the boat. Jeff sat at the back placing his sack on the pile, a task he somehow managed to accomplish between the dim light and rocking sea. When he had his butt firmly seated on the back plank serving as a seat, Quinton unwrapped the rope anchoring their vessel to the post.

Once that was finished, the man gave Jeff a small nod barely seen in the starlight. Preparing the spell took as much thought as moving his fingers. A simple powerful gust with no direction or cutting edges blew out of his backward-facing hands. The water sprayed his face but for all their speed, the noise was still low enough that none would have heard it above the ocean’s thrashing.

“Can you go faster?” Quinton called from the front, sounding a tad nervous even as he demanded more.

“A lot,” Jeff answered as the wall of the city zipped by and the open sea called ahead. “More than enough to flip us over several times in a single crash. Just need a minute or two to balance everything.”

The experience was certainly new to the guard, because it took a few seconds for him to respond.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. But when I shout stop, try to do it as soon as you can.”

The two passengers were content with the arrangement. How the boat reacted to the waves and its tolerances for speed were eventually tested out by the lightning mage until he found a good compromise between speed and control. Occasionally, Quinton would point back to the coast, indicating they were too far away from shore. He continued working magic in the enveloping dark and waves until his companion put up a hand.

“Stop!”

Looking ahead, the mage couldn’t see anything. Even with the weak starlight, shapes of land far to his left were all he saw among the waves.

“Unless you have some special magic unknown to me, how do you know where the rocky outcropping is?”

A slight chuckle wafted over the sea’s rumbling.

“I have no magic. Only what that blade of rock sticking out of the beach means. From here, we will have to use muscle to get in.”

With that, he pulled a previously unseen oar from the underside of the boat’s walls. Another was promptly handed to him. With how dark it was, Jeff couldn’t be too certain the surprised look Quinton gave him when he took the oar was actually there. A few minutes of quiet rowing followed until weird shapes popped up between the waves, though if they had always been there or suddenly appeared, the lightning mage couldn’t say.

Ancient impulses told him to whack the nearest one on the right with a spell and his mind started rolling out the usual steps for the well-honed practice. That gave rationality enough time to re-assert itself when he noticed the black mass didn’t move and the faint starlight reflected off the surface of smooth contours. When his psyche finally placed the thing as a stone pillar worn from the waves, he looked straight ahead.

There were more coming up, though it was the larger piece in the middle that drew his attention. It was a wide bowl with about half its side missing, sized to around two stories high if the dark outlines against the night sky could be relied upon. All resting on a long slab of stone with dips and rises to accentuate the occasional spike sticking out. The pillars were at their thickest here and had partially preserved the structure against the sea’s fury.

“The bowl, as we so imaginatively named it,” Quinton called back as he maneuvered the boat closer. “Leftovers from a big mole getting snatched by something in the sea. Or the other way around. A few holes here and there was all it took to keep it from filling with rain.”

Cold still nipped at exposed skin and Jeff, as fascinated as he was by the history, had only one question in mind.

“What about the heat?” He shouted over the crashing waves. “I’m more than ready for a warm blanket and a massage from a beautiful woman.”

“I’ll make sure the staff are informed,” Quinton yelled as they approached.

Even with it being so close, the trek was slowed by the sea’s attempt to dash them against the pillars. The guard’s skill came through and the long base of stone for the structure was soon being prospected for a suitable point to land. The spot eventually settled on was a long stretch slowly rising in a slope from the water to the right. Quinton and Jeff used their oars to push the boat onto the stone with a loud scrape that was only just louder than the waves.

The lightning mage picked up bags with Quinton. When the boat had been emptied, it was pulled onto land with a few heaves and tied to one of the spikes. Clear skies left a tapestry of lights above, yet Jeff still felt bits of water run down his neck and bum where the coat and pants hadn’t protected. Going into the open side of the bowl, his feet became a bit more sure owing to the lack of water on the raised stone floor.

Despite that, he decided to hang around the entrance with the guard due to everything inside being a black void. A small stream of curses played over the pounding waves as the guide struggled with a small, barely seen bowl. His hands were moving over it and Jeff couldn’t say precisely what he was doing until a small spark bounced across the floor. A few more hits of flint suddenly produced a weak blue light that took only a second to bloom into a torch’s brilliance.

Quinton pulled up a wide copper bowl with a handle on the side. Jeff turned his gaze towards the cave's insides before going in. The top was a dome with rocks of differing types all mashed together by the magic of some attack spell long since cast. Dull browns, hard greys, and sparkling blacks all played in the blue light. As interesting as it was, that didn’t hide the fact that it was a bare cave. Square from rough chiseling, sporting a few ashes in the middle, and no real features to speak of beyond its material.

“All right,” Quinton announced as he laid his bag to the right. “I want to leave first thing in the morning. Our ability to hug the shore is what gives us the edge over a proper ship, and I want to use it for all its worth.”

Jeff only nodded.

Tired limbs dropped sacks off to the side while the ever-present sound of waves filled the background noise. Unraveling the blankets, the mage found they had a hole at the end for someone to crawl into. He didn’t have the camping experience to name them, but he could appreciate their usefulness. His companion was more experienced, laying out his bed on the opposite left side of the cave with a casual roll before laying the glass bowl down.

A minute passed while the sounds of rummaging and the occasional clank of metal reverberated through the cave until Quinton finally retrieved his prize. A long white sack was lifted out of the pack. It took a moment until the light revealed that it was stretched thin, the culprit being a fist-sized square on the bottom.

“Layers of wood, soaked in some kind of pumpkin or squash juice. A real bitch to get ahold of.” The guard announced, laying the sack between them in the middle of the long-dead ashes at the center of the room. The copper dish was brought up to the white sacks tip, lighting the cloth. Flame, now the more proper orange, started flowing down from the tip of the bag as it was lowered onto the small pile of ashes.

“I’ll take the night's watch.” Was all Quinton said before turning towards the cave entrance. Tired and worn from spell work, Jeff only nodded towards the man whose face was glowing in the flames. The lights of flickering blue and orange played across both men while the guard moved closer to the entrance. The lightning mage took the opportunity to lie on his side to face the wall. As the warmth took Jeff and he used his sack of change clothes for a pillow, it occurred to him that the cube of wood and sap was giving off a decent fire’s warmth.

Looking up, streams of smoke flew up through the sides of the ceiling through small holes and small popping sounded off behind him. When the blue light suddenly went out, leaving only the strong shifting glow of regular flame to play along the odd array of materials, the mage closed his brown eyes.

“Lad!”

Despite the sound, it was a sore back that Jeff first registered. Blurry visions covered his first vision of the world, accompanying the feel of slickness across his brow telling of a bath sorely needed. Sadly, tubs of warm water or attending maids were absent. Besides the ever-present waves of the sea, the only sound was shuffling to his left. His companion was loading up the boat with his pack with the still faint light of the sun barely peeking out between the clouds.

The mage quickly joined him, crawling out of his cocoon and putting his meager possessions in with the rest. Munching on meager nuts, harder bread, and lukewarm water from a large wine sack, it was the true traveling experience. No fantastical wonders from a man spewed out of another dimension or consideration for a leader’s progeny were to be found as the boat was pushed out onto the sea.

In the light of too early morning, Jeff could see the place more clearly and why it was so well hidden. The pillars were heavily worn into what from the sea would look like regular rocks hugging the shoreline as their more angular backsides were only visible from land. Only the main structure would stick out, though its bowl-like top was still rather unremarkable from far away.

Faint light fought through grey skies, leaving Jeff more than happy to have this all done. Their vessel was put to the crashing waves in a splash as the two took their regular positions in the boat. A harsh night’s shelter was abandoned with the plying of the oars through the pillars until the open sea finally beckoned. Without a word, Jeff sucked in mana and made another wind circle with a simple triangle output above both fists. His skills were a little dulled from his rest, leaving a few minutes of uncertain speeding up and slowing before a good rhythm was once again established.

Blasting out over the ocean would have been fun and the lightning mage even considered it until a far-off crunch was heard over the waves on his right.

“A tempting lady, the sea.” The guard yelled with the weak sun growing a bit brighter behind the miserable clouds.

The boat rocked back and forth in the waves approaching the land as they hugged the coastline with nothing but the salty spray from the wind spells to accompany the two men. That and winters bite. Ever present, the cold never relented in its assault on the exposed flesh and bare faces. An increasingly miserable state that continued for a few minutes or hours, the ability to measure time destroyed by the clouds choking an already meager sun and the constant toil of keeping the boat right side up.

A hard slog that continued until Quinton, for no reason discernable to Jeff’s eyes, suddenly threw up his hand.

“There, lad! Take us in.” He commanded, his green eyes looking like he had found a home long lost. Looking out to the shore, the expanse of tall bushes, bark scars, and rocky coastline showed nothing of any distinction to Jeff.

“The bushes hanging over the water. Go up to them and we’ll use the oars to get in.” Quinton yelled again, getting the oars so quickly his black beard was pushed over the long wooden pole he extended towards his fellow passenger. Thoroughly confused with what was going on, Jeff could only push them forward. Green shrubbery came up to the edge of the boat before the gentle guard pushed some of it aside with a shove of his oar.

Two men passed into a world of leaves, branches, and all the deposits of snow into hair and clothes that accompanied. Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff spotted what he swore were arrows pointing at them sticking out among the now pinkish brambles, though it was only confirmed when the leaves opened to a wider expanse. Puddles of water were strewn about a sprawling yard of grass and mud with the end of the water being only a stone toss ahead. The walls were seemingly sturdy blocks of stone, though their color was hard to distinguish among the thick coat of teal and pink… stuff. He wanted to say it was some kind of artisan’s glaze, though it was on the residents as well.

A few wide heads peeked out of the round pools dotting the ground. Large eyes of bright green or teal rested in heads that Jeff’s eyes wanted to say were human, though the mouths were closer to the Frojan's wide maws, narrow slits placed where the noses should be, and eye sockets took up more of the forehead. The biggest distinction between the two species was the skin. The pink and teal glaze dotted their smooth grey exterior in a scale-like pattern, though each left plenty of space between the next and even more so in the folds of lettuce-like skin bouncing on their heads in place of hair.

It was the four off on the right bank sporting drawn bows who presented themselves in full. The local fashion seemed to be thick wool tops and pants, stained with more of the glaze in a more flexible form. On their sides were wing-like appendages resembling what Jeff’s mind said were bat wings, though they came out of the rib cage and had the smoothness and lack of fur found in aquatic denizens.

“Business, human.” The one on the far left said in a light, almost singing voice. Something at odds with the sharp teeth behind his lips and more masculine features.

“We come only for what was agreed upon.”

A bald eyebrow was raised as his teal eyes went between the two men.

“Name?”

“Quinton. Where’s Passeen? The old thorn too good to meet the help these days?”

A smile broke out among the archers, accompanying a few of the older resident’s heads sinking into their pools with their curiosity seemingly satisfied. Pointed barbs were lowered and shoulders came down.

“Few know of his hard spirit. Fewer of the name he mentioned when he left. Welcome, Quinton. We have a special abode where you can shed as you like.” His hand outstretched to the right behind the large bushes.

Jeff noted the odd greeting. However, the biting cold had a far greater presence in his mind and he dared not waste any time with questions. Taking the boat onshore, the men took their bags and followed the stretched palm of their guide. Wet mud was underfoot everywhere yet not quite a brown soup. Every step was announced with a sopping suck around his boot while the visage of a simple stone building against the fortification lay directly ahead. A bare four walls of grey, an open door, and a round top with a table and four tables inside a residence about half his bedroom back home. His fake life’s home, anyway.

Coming through the door, he noticed that the floor was solid stone and promptly placed his burden on the right just past the muddy entrance. Taking a seat at the table was the first bit of stability he had enjoyed for what felt like hours. Which was at odds with the small sigh escaping between Quinton’s lips telling of impatience.

“After that long slog, I think some rest is fair.” Jeff offered as his companion plopped into the chair opposite him, placing his bags on the table to the right.

“I’m more worried about Paseen leaving. Once you get your stomach steady, traveling the seas isn’t any different than a pleasant stroll. Of course, I haven’t been using magic this whole time. How are you holding up?”

Jeff closed his eyes, feeling his limbs and making several math-free calculations.

“I should be fine. These spells aren’t anything complicated or power intensive. It’s just annoying how it’s not hard enough to keep me fully engaged but not easy enough to let me mentally leave during the task.”

Quinton nodded, rubbing his bulbous nose as he leaned back in his chair.

“Helmsman often say as much. I suppose doing work between-“

Wet stomps from the door interrupted the guard. Standing in the opening was the fairy that first greeted them. In his grey hands was a large jar, the clear sides showing a conspicuous lack of oysters within.

“All ready to be measured out to your satisfaction.” The fairy half-sang, laying down the great treasure on the table.

Getting a faint memory of his first visit to Crasden, Jeff looked towards Quinton who was rummaging through one of his bags. Satisfied to be on the sidelines of this portion, he turned back to his host.

“Quite chilly this far north. Can’t say I know much about your people, but I thought fairies were more southern in their tastes.”

Teal eyes narrowed and those glaze scales stretched with a face wide scowl. A quick look to the right confirmed the diplomatic blunder, with Quinton’s green eyes looking away from his hands in the bag and up to the ceiling as his lips puckered like he just bit into something sour.

“Fairies?!” Their host demanded with the word spat out like a bug in a bite of food, though with less love.

“A thousand apologies!” The guard quickly offered with a turn to the apparent victim, arms outstretched in supplication. “He is young and unfamiliar with your people. More than that, I should have instructed him in etiquette. But, as you well know, these cold lands make the mind wander to warmer skies and I was too distracted to properly instruct him.”

A soft blue tongue licked the lower lip of the… not fairy.

“Youth and ignorance are close siblings. Mother knows I’ve had more than one pup say something uncouth to a human before.”

Jeff waited a moment for the path ahead to clear before coughing into a hand.

“I’m sorry. What for, I’m not exactly clear on.”

A wry smile stole over those wide lips.

“We are Kaseen. Our people are old, child. Older than yours by many seasons. It is, of course, quite…rude, then, for you to suddenly change our name because one of you who shoots out mana suddenly decided so.”

Looking towards Quinton, Jeff only got a shrug in return.

“Rodring,” The guard answered.

“Not just him!” Their non-human companion interjected, the heat coming back into his words. “That builder cur. The one who built that stone monstrosity out beyond the beastmans lands. Came along one day and suddenly the Hedran aren’t what everyone called them for all existence.”

“Hedran?” The lightning mage asked with confusion that had only gotten deeper with the conversation.

“Trolls,” Quinton answered as he perused his sack for some item or another.

A moment more passed before the guard managed to pull out some square black stones. They were an array of sizes ranging from a small piece that could fit in a babe’s palm, to near-proper bricks. The Kaseen took each stone, looking it over with glances. Jeff wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, as he only gave each a small lift to check the weight before placing it down. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by their host.

“Inspecting for… Dandruff? Is that what you humans call it?” He asked in that voice sounding like it was on the edge of breaking into song.

“It’s a big issue for you guys,” Jeff observed as politely as he could.

“Shouldn’t it be?” He asked, his slits for a nose flaring as he did so. “Your ripping parts of your body off and leaving it everywhere. How do you stand it?”

An open mouth was as far as Jeff got before the sucking sound of footsteps in mud was heard behind the entryway. Another Kaseen was bringing some copper scales and their own sets of weight stones. An arrival Quinton took advantage of by leaning forward in his chair.

“We could just as easily say the same about yours. At least our skin disappears after a while. You lot have it turn into this plaster that you slap everywhere.”

A mixture of intrigue and disgust rolled over the lightning mage as he realized what that glaze was. None of it was here or, thankfully, on the path back to the boat. Worse than that feeling, the grease and sourness of waking up with no bath or mouthwash suddenly became more acute.

“However,” Quinton announced as the scale and weights were brought to the table. “It isn’t debates over our bodies that we trudged through the seas for.”

With that, the burden of labor now fell to the magicless man. It was a good half-hour or more of going over the weights used, comparing theirs to the ones provided by the seller, while the buyer went over the scale being used. Practiced green eyes looked over the copper plates, chains, and stand with every detail being noted. The comparisons between the sets of weights eventually showed the pairs were matching, yet caution would not be so easily sated.

A weighing of the glass jars to be used was carried out. Then the lids. And the salt used to stave off rot. His years working to become a mage lent Jeff an understanding of the neurotic obsession going on, yet even that began to wear thin when a simple nod was exchanged by the two. Their host whistled out of the doorway and another of his kind, having the softer and smaller stature of the feminine sex, brought out the coveted goods.

Tinged with brown and swirls of blue, the oysters were shucked out of their shells and carried in a wooden bowl. Laying it down on the table, the purpose for all this tedium finally came into view. Each was weighed down to the smallest morsel then packed in salt and placed in the jar. This finishing process took the least amount of time and in short order, the lid was applied to the jar only just holding the precious treasure in as it was gently wrapped around a blanket and placed in a sack.

Oddly, no talk of payment ensued. Not trusting himself to not say something that any trader in magical resources would know, Jeff was content to guess that they had some prior arrangement. The business had reached its end with the humans getting up from the table. The woman at the door spoke up, though Jeff struggled to focus on the words. If the male's voice was reminiscent of a preparing chorus, hers was the peak of the symphony. Filled with high pitch and smooth whistles, her words took a moment to be sorted from the tune.

“-y refreshment? I can’t imagine the trip here was kind to those not suited to the waters.”

Quinton shook his head, though he did a light bow to accentuate his refusal.

“I’ve heard the food of the Kaseen is something to treasure. Sadly, time and events demand us elsewhere.”

The two Kaseen nodded, doing a returning light bow before leaving with their scale and weights. Jeff followed with Quinton, laden with a bag now treated with the care of a newborn. Their boat was still in the muck as they had left it. The lightning mage put his burden down in the middle of his home for the rest of the day and was getting ready to shove off when some of the water around the boat came up.

Looking behind him, he saw some of the mana around the Kaseen getting absorbed through their mouths as more added to the spell. The men were able to get into their usual positions before the water spell pushed them off the muddy bank and back into the trench. By this time, the onlookers had scattered to their underwater homes and the grey sky was a bit darker than it was before.

Their boat was pushed towards the bush-covered entrance without another word or sound. Jeff and Quinton took up their oars without another word before they began pushing through the brambles and leaves. Near the end of the task, one branch snapped back and took the mage in the cheek. He thought about rubbing the wound, checking for blood, then maybe applying a cloth. That was until he looked up through the bushes and saw that the grey clouds were still hiding a dying sun.

It was cold here. Constantly, bitterly cold. Only back at the base had he felt true warmth in every crevice and patch. Now the memory only served to taunt him, calling him from a far-off place he had no hope of getting to. His patience thinned a bit when they had to stop to move a large branch out of the way. When they came up to the open sea, no time was wasted. Magic was worked as quickly as Jeff could suck in the mana and formed the needed shapes. One blast of freezing ocean ran up the side of the boat as they jerked forward over the waves.

An hour of mind-deadening work passed before Quinton’s head jerked up. Before Jeff could ask what it was, his companion turned back to the bags and quickly rummaged through them.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Quinton’s poetry flowed as his calloused hands eventually pulled out the coveted jar. Yanking it open with a pop, he pulled out a knife from his side. The blade moved with a master’s precision, though there was nothing graceful about the scowl across the weathered man’s face.

“Fucking pearls.” He growled, barely head over the waves.

In his leathery hands were several round balls, each the same color and shape as Jeff had expected. Unexpectedly, the palm clenched, and the hand was raised to cast the loathsome freeloaders into the sea. There was enough light left for Quinton to look over at Jeff. Raw anger suffused those green eyes, yet they rapidly cooled with the unspoken conversation between the two men.

“Pfft. Might as well see what we can get at a jewelers for them.” The guard offered with a resigned sigh as he put the round balls into his coat pocket.

With a look back to the coastline they were currently hugging, Jeff continued his spell work for another hour or so. As was customary this far north, the sun died early and swiftly. Starlight met the same fate as the golden rays preceding it, choked and killed by the dour clouds above.

“I think we need to land,” Jeff announced over the crashing waves. “Unless we want the oysters returned to the ocean when we dash against some rocks I saw on the way here.”

“Nah,” The shape at the other end of the boat said. “I’ve got something just for this situation.”

The sounds of rummaging could be heard, accompanied this time by the sound of metal knocking together and a soft squeak. It was a few more minutes, with the occasional spark showing from the sides of Quinton’s vague shape. Waiting in the middle of the sea, with all the chill and wetness that accompanied it, wore on Jeff’s thin patience yet further. His reward, however, was a bright blue light suddenly shining over the waves. The new sun emanated from a copper cylinder, with half its sides made of glass that faced away over the soft waves of the ocean.

“That would have been nice to know about. Just some information on what we have.” Jeff yelled over the water, preparing to start his wind spell again.

A pair of shoulders shrugged in the blue light even with the face obscured by the darkness.

“I figured you’d insist on spending the night at the fairy’s hold. This was just a contingency if, for any reason, we got caught out in the dark or had to make a night trek. Be glad I did, otherwise, your industrious spirit would have been wasted.”

Resolving to immediately complain about any discomfort during any future outings, in exacting and precise detail, Jeff started up the blasts of wind. Blue light guided him over the tumbling sea, keeping him aware of just how far he was from the shoreline. Time lost meaning as he kept up in the cold that now had no daytime to counter it.

The journey, as brutal as it was, met its end in the faint whisps of torchlight over tall stone walls in the distance. Kressel put the light down so that its blue blaze was facing down into the boat.

“Take us in slow, lad. We didn’t pay off the entire harbor.”

It was the last thing he wanted to do in this wet, frozen hell. Still, he was at the finish and it was close enough that Quinton had to kill his light. Blasts of concentrated storm were reduced to strong breezes that brought the beachhead of civilization closer, if only by a crawl.

When the sheer face of stone came up, they pulled out their oars and rowed up to the stone floor of the harbor. The boat was tied back to its pole and promptly abandoned, with a few guards looking them over and then promptly forgetting their existence as the sacks were placed on firm soil once again. Walking through the ships in various stages of construction, warmth returned to the exposed bits of Jeff’s skin that no longer had harsh winds blowing across them.

As much warmth as the heart of winter could give, at least.

Jeff’s first thought was running straight ahead to his home and trying to scarf down a meal before wrapping himself in three layers of blankets. That wouldn’t be in character, however. He was a mage, and mages had no thought or care beyond the acquisition of mana-enriched meats and vegetables.

Quinton took the lead now. The guard moved with his charge between masses of wood and the occasional red-leathered man who just so happened to not see them even when they passed directly ahead. That manor serving as an office quickly came into view with a few candles still burning this late in the… Time distorted for a moment as Jeff’s mind adjusted to the fact that it was probably only mid-afternoon.

The stone walls passed by until they went through the double doors of the entrance. Going through the ever-present barrier of wooden boards, they took a left up the stairs and then a right at the top to the harbor master’s room. With a nod to Quinton’s fellow guard, they went through the wood door. Inside was the woman in question plying her trade at the desk with several pages under a lamp. The windows behind her showed nothing but a black void though the smile that came with her look upwards got a more genuine quality when she recognized the intruders.

“Were they so horrible that the winter sea was preferable so late?” She asked with a lean back into her leather chair, hands crossed over a grey dress.

“They had their usual charm,” Quinton said with a casual stretch. “I think the mage was just that eager to see you again.”

Jeff stood still, noticing no change in the woman beside a slight raise in her smile.

“Or maybe it was the human company that did it.” He offered the room.

Quinton chuckled while Pache finally sucked in her lips before straightening her dress.

“It does me good to see my boys getting along.” The eye roll from the two men didn’t stop her from continuing, “But time is a currency like any other. Quinton, fetch a jar so we can get Harold’s portion worked out.”

“We can use the scales used during the exchange with the Kaseen.” Jeff put in, “I’ll trust their diligence.”

The guard did a small bow before going back out the door. A minute passed in silence. Not awkward, though Jeff’s mind was too tired to be a source of conversation. Pache seemed content to sit in silence and he obliged her until Quinton came in. Bearing a smaller jar and lid, the guard moved the glass container to the desk with some scooting of the papers.

“Harold,” Pache practically purred as she leaned forward with elbows on the scattered pages. “You didn’t tell me you had personal experience with the fairy folk.”

Jeff shook his head with his walk up to the main event of the evening.

“I didn’t. It was… an instructive experience to say the least.”

Her green eyes shifted to Quinton, who was retrieving the main jar and assorted tools.

“Wasn’t too much of a problem.” His rough voice announced as he placed a few of the weights down. “He’s quite easy to work with.”

That seemed to surprise her the most. Black eyebrows rose with a bit lip. No words came, however. Kressel set up the bronze scale and the weights were quickly put to their purpose. After a few minutes of yet more agonizing weighing of the jar and its lid, Pache beckoned Jeff to her left.

“Come. Let’s see if we can defeat these fierce numbers together.” She offered with a flourish of blank paper and the dipping of a quill in an ink jar. A roll of his eyes didn’t stop her from slowly going over every step of the long division even as his mind struggled to follow along.

“And then let’s carry over the remainder.”

It was at the third round that a small smile finally broke through her instructive demeanor. Jeff only indulged her with an exaggerated nod. The water mage bit her lip before she worked through the rest of the figures, including the weight of the salt. Satisfied with all the math he hadn’t paid the slightest bit of attention to; the requisite oysters were plopped into the smaller jar while Jeff’s mind chugged at this final sprint. He still had enough alacrity to see the color in Pache’s cheeks when it was revealed that the oysters were not checked for pearls beforehand and the bead of sweat going down Quinton’s face. When his promised wage had been measured out, Jeff wished them both good night with some barely heard farewells.

He maintained just enough mental acuity to stuff the jar in his bag. Exhaustion came fast as the adrenaline of working on the seas and subterfuge wore off. Nearly a full day of nonstop spell work had drained his reserves of energy with a small stumble at the foot of the stairs accentuating his harried state. The city was still partially alive with the occasional torch from a passerby or patrol illuminating a glass storefront or bit of stone road.

There was a certain haunting beauty to it with no starlight to provide light between the numerous flaming spots in the dark, but a worn mind had no appreciation for beauty. Turning back towards the mage district with its ridiculous strobing purple, pink, and teal lights, Jeff numbly walked through half-registered streets and pedestrians. Only just keeping the mental resources needed to get home, he eventually found himself forcing his feet up the stairs of his abode.

Off to the left were the moans and rustling of sheets coming from the door of his brother's room. Fortunately for Andrew, concerns of propriety had died as far as Jeff was concerned. Opening the door to the right leading into his room took all the resevers of mental agility at hand. The bed called, bathed in those unnatural lights of the district as it was. Still aware of the treasure in his bag, he held it close as he plopped onto the pillow with not a thought spared for the curtain or door before oblivion took him.

“Jeff!” Andrew’s yell pierced the warm embrace of nothingness.

Feeling faint lines of pain through his body, accompanying the more typical soreness in his feet, Jeff took a moment to absorb where he was and the previous night’s events. Fully armed with that knowledge he turned around to his brother. Looking well worn from his own struggles, Andrews's messy brown hair and bare chest did nothing to hide the retreating form of a grey-dressed woman behind him leaving down the stairs.

“The harbormaster you refuse to show spine for is here.”

With that, Andrew turned back to his bedroom.

A light stretch was all Jeff gave himself before getting off the bed with all its wonderful fluffy sheets. Taking the usual slap of biting cold in stride, he went down those stairs and opened the front door. Standing on the sidewalk was Pache, sporting a green dress with no frills. Her bowl cut of black hair swung from her look down the street.

“I didn’t know you had so much energy after last night.” She asked with a pensive smile on her thick lips.

Following her previous gaze, he saw the figure of a woman walking down the street, looking similar to the one he had glimpsed behind Andrew.

“My brothers work. Despite our infertility, he certainly is… steadfast in his duties.”

Pache’s shoulders came down, along with a vanishing of the insincere smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to pry into your nighttime affairs. A new report dropped and I felt you should hear about it from me. Not good or profitable this time I’m afraid. And.” Her hand moved towards Jeff’s face, running along the protruding hairs. “You clearly haven’t been seeing to certain aspects of hygiene. Your poor mother must be getting chills every time you go out into proper society. Clean up and I’ll give you a proper shave out in the backyard.”

A genuine smile came over her face that matched the one Jeff couldn’t keep down. They turned and went into the house, with Pache and Jeff going through the kitchen on the back left. It lead onto the yard, a bare, featureless patch of green whose only redeeming quality was the grey stone shack in the back that served as a shower house and the lack of higher neighbors. When he was changed into a loose white shirt and black pants with that feeling of refreshment only washing away days of grime could provide, he opened the shack door to find Pache standing in the middle of the yard with a chair and the assorted cutlery of a barber, all presumably provided by the servants who warmed his water.

“What news is there?” Jeff asked as he took his seat. Pache fixed a white bib around his neck before preparing a wickedly sharp razor.

“The pirates are coming. It will be a while, but the time for preparation has passed and they’ll be here in a few days or a week depending on how the winds favor us.” She offered as she worked the blade on a whetstone.

A clump of spit stole up Jeff’s throat.

“Do you want to stay here?” He offered without a moment’s thought.

The back-and-forth scraping of metal on stone stopped for a moment. He turned back to see those green eyes appraising him for a moment before a wide smile stole over her face. Her sway got a bit more pronounced as she moved toward his back, emphasizing her breasts and hips in the sway.

“Are you aware of the Fjords?” Her soft voice asked behind him.

Caught off guard at the question, he took a moment as the barely remembered name was groped for in his mind.

“Yes. They took over when the water mage's house, descended from Rodrings original party, fell to some disaster. Put everything in one city then got taken out in a big wave, I believe.”

A bitter snort behind him told of Pache’s now fouler mood.

“’Took over’. You’d think we robbed their very corpses with the way the Literrean and Kraton house’s act. But do you know the history of those squatting in the ruins of the dead clan?”

He shook his head.

“Well, let me tell you about us. Did you know that pirates aren’t good people?”

Jeff gave a light cough, looking to his right as the razor came into view.

“I’m glad I was sitting down for such a revelation.”

The blade glided across his cheek, sending a small shower of hairs across the bib.

“Brat.” Pache's voice whispered in his right ear, so close he was sure he could discern the sound of her lips smacking. “Not just to outsiders. Oh no. They’re quite prickly even to their own, kin and kindred alike. That also means they kill each other at a rate comparable to a warzone. The Mist pirates have had more blades put in them from suspecting superiors or ambitious underlings than we could hope to afford.

The political arrangement is the biggest and best clans get the coveted positions inside the misty island, with all the luxuries and goods that accompany, while those in our position fight for scraps outside. The highest is the Broodmother whose clan tends to the crabs and beasts. She takes a consort who sires her children and provides all the amenities required. Her paramour is the second best position and the clans jostle between themselves for it.”

So absorbed was Jeff that he almost gave a start when the blade slid down the right side of his neck. Pache was skillful enough in this arena that no blood was drawn from the long shave.

“It’s a great thing, living inside the veil of mist. But we were no such clan. One of the annoying things about this arrangement is that the inner clans don’t care about… well anything beyond their little cut-off corner of the world. Including whether the people bringing in the goods are the same as those who did it last week.

We weren’t even connected to the inner mists, rather we were their minions’ underlings. Still too high up, it turns out. One day someone said something stupid at dinner and suddenly we were on the bad end of the clan head. Now, most go out west to try their chances in the seas around the Far Shores and Orc gangs.

Fortune and misfortune, however, can come layered. The water mage clan had the water come to them around this time and it pulled them out to sea where their element stayed with them for all eternity. The Rodring Kingdom, desperate to fill the gaping wound in its side, cut us a deal. Our kind had some water mages, not anywhere near the amount who lived there before us, but some. More than that, we knew ships.”

“Doesn’t sound like a recipe for warm relations.” Jeff offered as Pache started working the left side of his face. A small snort came through his left ear.

“No, it isn’t.” She said with a small shake of her head. “The pirates will go out of their way to give us grief and the rest of the kingdom is mixed. The local settlements that suddenly found us collecting their taxes are rather warm to us, as we’ve proven ourselves more than once and we actually tend to their needs. That changes nothing as far as the leadership is concerned. Rodring or his party members’ blood is the only currency used in court and we have none.”

Her hands moved his chin to the right before Jeff felt a long slide of the blade down his throat.

“Speaking of relations,” She continued with a small smile across her face. “Kressel was quite impressed with you. Some mages would have killed him for trying to give them orders.”

Pache regarded him with interest. The lightning mage had enough experience to say that interest was more than professional.

“The job needed doing,” Jeff responded before she worked the razor across his upper lips.

“If only everyone was as focused.”

Those were the last words spoken for a few minutes. Sharp steel worked up and down her client's face until she moved his head back and forth. With a final once-over, a satisfied look came over her face. Instead of removing the bib, she went directly behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders.

“Life is short and I have little patience for idling. Do you have some interest? Times like these make for short lives and one should savor such a fleeting thing as much as possible.”

The lightning mage bit his tongue before letting loose a breath.

“I do enjoy your company. Maybe we’re due for another meal at the tavern.”

Fingers strummed across his shirt.

“Our elements could combine to make a healing element. A mighty useful thing and the whiny brat of house Kraton couldn’t complain.”

Jeff looked up to see her bowl of black hair hovering above him as those green eyes stared down with the same intent of a business negotiation. Long used to such speculation from his years among mage kind, especially as someone with dual elements, he only shrugged at the casual suggestion of babymaking.

“As far as I’m aware, that can’t happen with my…infirmary.”

She moved closer, those hands moving over his chest.

“Perhaps you should be more willing to take chances, like your brother.”

It was Jeff’s turn to snort even as he felt her soft palms across his pecks.

“I think a few tumbles is all he wants out of his ‘attempts’. My taste is for something more permanent.”

A flare of desire burned in those green eyes. Suggestion became declaration as her hand traveled down his stomach to above his pubes while her head came just to his left.

“Oh? You want more than a night or two?”

They were close now and some unspoken agreement was reached. Puckered lips closed the gap and Jeff tasted the sweetness of a woman after what had felt like a lifetime. A familiar sensation that brought back memories with it. Flashes of red hair so dark it was nearly black with the thrill of near discovery passed through his mind. Images now soaked in pain. A pull back from Pache stopped his reverie.

“Have I been doing such a poor cleaning of my teeth?”

Despite the teasing tone, there was some hurt in those green eyes. Jeff, realizing what had shown on his face, put a hand to her side while he licked his lips.

“Not all pleasant things bring back pleasant memories. Beautiful women make every day a bit better and you’ve certainly improved mine. There’s just…”

Words failed him. A moment of awkward silence passed between them before Pache got a little smile and moved both her hands to the back of his neck.

“I suppose you’re never too young for the world to hurt you.” She said, pulling off the white bib. “We will be shutting down the offices in preparation for the coming battle. If it gets bad… perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer to move in. Your second proposition, however, I will agree to. A good meal at the tavern while it still stands is in order.”

Jeff nodded as he pushed up from his seat. Turning around, Pache looked him up and down before nodding in approval. He accompanied her out of the house and into the street. Whatever the coming battle brought with it, the lightning mage intended to get at least one last good taste of the city before it was potentially torched to the ground.