Eli POV

“One trip back to Crasden, coming up,” I announced to the passengers.

The boat lurched with my hands swiping up and down the wooden panels in front of my chair.

“Ah!” Palta yelped behind me. A glance back saw her hand clutching the burned eye. It wasn’t the ruined mess that had first been presented, but it was still a red, aggrieved patch of skin around the shielding palm.

“Will you still be able to fight?” I asked with as much empathy as I could muster.

“I will when we arrive. If not, I’ll let the seas take me in recompense for my stupidity.” She growled, her lips puckering with a fire in her good green eye.

I only raised an eyebrow at her. A shift of shoulder-length black hair followed her miserable look upward.

“I was coming up the ship you injured. Even if the catapult wasn’t working, the barrels were apparently still standing and ready. The men chucked one overboard as I was battering the sides of their ship with spikes of water.”

Her free left hand flattened into a palm and did a clockwise spin around the side of her forehead.

“My mind said ‘We’re out in the open sea. The flame to make it explode will go out.’ and bid me to continue my spell work. A second later I remembered the barrel was sealed and would explode when it slammed into the water. Then… A flash and heat. Poor Pipkin had to keep my head above water while Zigget distracted them…

Shit.

My instructors clearly didn’t make me cry hard enough. Nearly taken out on the seas by a magicless man with some powder. Harrah, if I should get taken in such a way in the future, do try to ensure nothing remains to tell the tale, including my corpse. Just tell the children mom got eaten by the Devourer.”

A few restrained chuckles greeted the command.

Content to slink back into my chair, I left the women to whatever idle fancies drew them away from this place and time. That ever-present chill crept in where the adrenaline of battle had been as the waves pushed against the bow of my ship as it glided forward. Our excursion was completed. Had we actually won? The answer came after a half-hour of riding waves and a turn from the land and onto the bay shared between Crasden and my nameless settlement.

Copper-hulled ships lined the bay I had made, with two having been kissed by the trebuchet farther out to sea closer to us. Through the wreckage illuminated in faint sunlight, I saw five of the ships taking up my personal harbor with three having docked and unloaded their cargo. Patches of red stood out along the bottom of the wall with most of the carnage taking place in front of the harbor gate.

I couldn’t make out much beyond a general churning of colorful pirates though the large shells they were all walking around stood out. I could make out four large hermit crabs each the size of a small house lying dead near the gate. Large slabs of stone stuck out of the ruined shells or just off to the side where the dead beasts had crawled a bit away before succumbing to the wound. Off to the left one of them limped along the wall with a long bar of stone skewering it through the top of its shell.

Most importantly, the portcullis was still holding firm. Even with the occasional bolt or rock from a ship's catapult, the gate was holding firm for now. Our counterattack wasn’t nearly as effective, however. Darting around the air was a man-sized crane with layers of dark blue and white feathers. It was knocking the few boulders that got near the ships out of the air. The ballistae weren’t bothering to shoot at the bird familiar, instead taking out one or more pirates trying to get an arrow in the defenders or those lugging stone blocks to crush a prospective ladder.

“They probably thought fighting the ships would take longer,” Palta put in, “Or the worm would take us. Otherwise, they’d never risk being so deep in the harbor. I’m very much in the mood for a little surprise of my own. Any idea’s beyond pushing them out to sea?”

“Out?” I asked with a smile creeping up under my helmet. “I’m thinking in. The crafts along the harbor’s bottom are already pushing the sea water further inland, two water scions and a familiar helping them would reduce the ships to a mash of metal and wood.”

A deep breath filled my right ear.

“Do it.” Palta hissed, her voice dripping with malice. “I’ll cover the ship with water so we can sneak up through the wreckage.”

I obeyed, driving the boat forward as a mass of blue mana constructs sprung up beside me.

A layer of water filled the viewing slits before falling away. I could see bits of the magically manipulated sea around the edges of the viewing slits as I maneuvered around the backend of one of the wooden graves. The tide had yet to claim all the bodies and bits of wood floating around, with one charred torso bereft of any identifying features brushing against the side of my boat as we pushed closer to the harbor.

“Pipkin says the water around the boat is clear. He’s pretty certain there is a familiar near the docks trying to corral the crabs.” Palta whispered in my ear “But the mud has been stirred, reducing the visibility under the ship to almost nothing. We can prep three large spells without drawing attention.”

“Not taking a bolt to the throat would be nice.” I put in, giving Harrah a pointed look.

She nodded with a small smile. That was all I got as the two women scooted up in preparation. Our approach allowed a rising roar of battle to gradually overcome the sound of crashing waves. No wails of children or screaming mothers mixed with the cracks of bone or screams of rage, unlike the pirate's first visit here. It was a meeting of two properly armed forces taking place along the wall and from what I could tell, our side was holding its own.

The first ship in our way stayed just outside of the harbor. On the deck a ballista shot out a bolt, its twang barely heard over the battle. My quick glance at its target saw it fall short of the catapult it was evidently aiming for. That was of little comfort to the archer on the wall just above, who got an arrow through his neck and fell back clutching at the gush of blood. Ruined bits of ladders were strewn about. Here and there among crushed wood was a large slab of stone, the very same I had used for material on the tower. As we came close to the first ship just outside of the harbor, another, far more pleasing, sound could be heard.

“What?!” A scream rang out from the above deck. “They’ve got fucking wood for armor.”

“Wood that stopped a mace. I think that plant mage has been far more generous than previously anticipated.”

“I’m not being stopped by fucking toy swords. Get the men up those fucking ladders!”

As sweet as the music was, the assault needed to meet its premature end.

Palta had been sucking in mana on our way, leaving just enough of the ever-present blue specks for me. I quickly pushed open the hatch and leaned over the left side of the boat before Palta leaned to the right. Two wide circles with a water triangle in the middle, each nearly twice the height of a man, sprung into existence halfway into the water with a third below fully submerged. A sudden hurricane wind from Zigget above was all the warning they got.

A wave rose like a tsunami in front of the spell constructs, dragging the ship upward until physics took over. Our water repulsion spells pushed all the water in the channel forward, pulling our boat along as the water behind our mana constructs fell into the newly vacated space. The princess used another spell to pull the water up on our right to create a shield.

My ears barely picked up a few screams amidst the crashing waves. Even the life and death struggle just a few stone tosses away faded with the churning of so much ocean. We rode forward with the unnatural disaster rising ever further until only a mast stuck out of the top. For a moment, the world consisted of nothing but rising water and the thumping of my heart.

A state of existence that lasted for only a few seconds.

The screech of torn metal rent the air before the smack of copper hulls crashing into each other took over. I could almost feel a pain in my chest as all my work on the docks was torn asunder. Off to the right was the portcullis and a line of frozen guards along the wall moving out of view as we continued forward to the groans of ship joints straining.

The deafening cacophony of water continued until I felt an electric sensation along my right.

‘I’m at my limit for this, Tilvor.’ Palta’s voice shouted in my mind.

I killed the spell. The other two quickly followed though Palta kept up the separate shield of water along the right. The vision ahead was still water as our boat dipped down before coming up to a rocky float. With the increase of distance, the seven ships that received the brunt of our attack could be seen.

As unscientific as magic was, the mathematics of momentum and mass still very much applied. The sheer energy behind the wave had already mangled two of the ships almost beyond recognition as their corpses were unceremoniously shoved onto the stone edges of the harbor, yet the others had so far escaped relatively unscathed as they bobbed about like driftwood. Which lasted only until the bend in the river towards the back of my domain came.

Five hulking masses of copper, wood, and bodies suddenly found themselves on a strait of water not designed for even one of their kind. A thin river flowing into a sharp turn to the right. The first ship slammed into the stone side of the channel with a deafening crack of stone. Its only mercy was that the demise was swift as two of its kin ran roughshod over it.

Through its front came the second ship, rolling with its beaching over and on its side to the right. The third tried to use the water enchantments of its back to steer clear. It didn’t work. The ship only succeeded in adding to its momentum and crashing into the first ship, reducing everything but the left side to splinters and blood.

Despite that failure, two of the ships further to the back tried something similar. They had more distance, yet their fate was much the same. Veering to the right, the copper hulls slammed into untouched sections of stone. Their added momentum sheered through the vessel’s lower half, crushing those decks with a thunderous crunch. A big rip appeared in the center while the sides had boards shooting through the upper floor like quills on a porcupine, with some of the spines skewering a few of the men over the side of the ship. Which was when shouts and screams could be heard finally be heard.

“Shit,” Harrah said as the hurricane wind waned. “Zigget’s tired.”

“Get back in,” I commanded the two women.

Despite their higher station, they promptly obeyed. The second the hatch slammed down, I pushed the boat to its maximum speed. My bay was still churning with the back and forth from our magic, tossing the boat like a cork as the backside water enchantments sped us forward.

“What about the scions’ familiars?” I asked to my right as we zipped past the two wrecked ships.

A moment of silence passed.

“They shot off towards the ships. Look!” She said with a pointed finger ahead.

A large, white lobster was beached around the mass of wood and metal. It was tearing through the wreckage in a frantic search for its master. About the size of a horse, those large claws tore through the hull of the pirate ship with no concern for minimizing the damage done. Nor any other survivors, as evidenced by the way it casually cut one of the injured men in the pile in half as it tore through.

I wasn’t interested in sightseeing, my mind distracted with bringing the boat up to a proper speed. We zipped by the disaster zone, with only a flash of the man-sized pelican above the mast of one of the sheered-off ships registering as we flew by. Our trip took us up to the grate with a little walkway to dry land off to the left. The boat was brought to a slow before being gently pressed against the portcullis by the strength of the water and it was just close enough to let us hop onto land.

Opening the hatch, I immediately jumped out onto the stone step. An action Palta and Harrah quickly imitated.

“Around the side. Someone should have some rope for us to shimmy up.” I told the group, including the big black otter coming out of the river.

I could tell Harrah had some quip playing at her tongue, but the day's exhaustion was taking its toll on her slumped shoulders and worn breathing. We left the boat with the bits of wood and bodies now wafting down the channel. Our group did a light run around the back of the walls, with nothing but the chill wind filling our ears this far out.

When the smaller wall around the road between Crasden and my abode finally peeked behind the side, Harrah dashed forward with a blast of magical wind. Her legs hit the side of the wall with an almost flying run up the three-story stone cliff in a display that would send phantom pain through the knees of any outside of that species called young. I had experienced both sides of that age difference more times than I could count and was content to merely scurry up to the joining of the two walls with the water scion and her familiar.

A minute of nerve-grinding wait passed before a rope was tossed down by three very harried-looking guards clad in wooden armor. Pipkin was in no way suited to get up the wall with the rope, leaving us water mages to create a liquid tunnel up to the lisp of my defenses. Once the black otter flopped on the stone ground, I turned to the first guard on my right while Harrah looked up worriedly to the tower in the distance.

“I can’t say I have much magic left in me. Get me to a damaged catapult and I’ll see what I can do.”

His brown beard shook while he bit his lip, which is when I noticed the joy in those grey eyes.

“They’ve thrown it in the bin, great mage.”

My eyebrows shot up at that. He must have taken that as an invitation to explain.

“As bloody as it’s been, they didn’t make much progress thanks to your magnificent works. They spent almost all of their effort on taking out the gate with not much hope of getting in otherwise. We’ve been giving them a bloody nose and that…”

His lips curled as he searched for the appropriate phrase.

“Act of God broke their backs proper. They threw down their weapons when the last ship crashed.”

Palta exhaled with almost as much gusto as the hurricane Zigget had summoned.

“Tend the wounded,” She commanded. “And get me the strongest ale on hand.”

They smiled at that, with one leaving while the other two took up on both our sides. We squatted against the stone wall for a minute before the proper refreshments arrived with a rotation of four lion guards. Puffs of clouded breath dispersed over mugs of beer until we all felt up to receiving our victory.

We only had six men for an honor guard, but as we approached the ocean wall from the side, the men cheered and screamed like it was a full military parade on the ramparts. Blood still stained some of the stone, the densest of which resided under a large patch of the wounded laying in cots near the kitchen, yet the sweet rush of conquest filled the air with some of the injured even shuffling up in their beds to whoop and clap.

The ruckus eventually settled down as overseers got the men back to work. Our approach to the main site of the battle was a winding affair as wounded in stretchers were moved back and forth on the wall. When the harbor gate came into view, I saw large blocks of stone lining the back of the portcullis and a line of men clapped in irons being led from under the stone arch. Even from here, the colorful hats and vests of the pirates were on full display. The fully living and still breathing pirates. Any good mood in me withered at the sight and it didn’t get better when we approached the battlements over the harbor.

The scum were huddled around in groups, waiting to be corralled by the men who they would have gleefully slaughtered and whose daughters and wives they would have raped. It was hard to distinguish the living ones from their dead compatriots from up here but there was more than one left alive and that was a number far too high.

“What’s wrong?” Palta asked from my right, the winter wind blowing her shoulder-length onyx hair around.

Her face had healed back to its royal perfection, but the tired air about couldn’t be suppressed. I guess my eyes had portrayed my true feelings.

“They showed no mercy in any of their conquests. Tell me, where are their prisoners?”

One of the lion guards leaned towards the princess, their golden metal face mask gleaning in the dying sun over the harbor that now reflected over the bay where no wreckage obscured the water. A sour smile stole over the princess’s pink lips. It was those green eyes and the way they looked at me that foretold an ill-anticipated reveal.

“Apparently, they had some. Used them to get the ladders in place.”

I stared at her, letting my gaze fully convey my dissatisfaction with the state of things.

“We can use them for leverage.” Palta offered with hands raised in supplication. “More than that, we’ve caught a big prize. The scion with the bird has slipped but the one with a lobster is too injured to get away. Depriving them of such a tool is more devastating than anything else we could have done here. We accomplished a great thing for the kingdom here, Tilvor.”

My eyes stole over the field of surrendered pirates for a final time, soaking in the righteous indignation as I did so.

“Fine,” I offered, sounding not too much like a pouting child. I turned to the princess and put my chin up under the leather face mask. “But they will not stay under any of my buildings or in my walls.”

A faint smile across those pink lips was all she gave me before nodding.

“Of course.”

I pulled away from the scene below and moved towards the open stairs leading to the ground. About halfway there a gaggle of guards and a very relieved-looking Bella came up to meet us. A smile played under her sharp nose and her thin frame swayed with her brown hair as she jaunted up the steps in her brown and leather armor.

“We did it!” She exclaimed, to a new crop of smiles from the men and her two compatriots. Harrah proved more excited than the rest.

“How did my tower hold up?”

That dampened the mood a bit, with the earth caster’s shoulders coming down.

“They didn’t make a play for it. We took out two ships which sounds impressive until you hear it was out of seven shots.”

“But it brought them here.” I declared with a raised hand. “Which is why we made it.”

Bella’s brown eyes did a rather womanly roll but a cough from Palta who moved in front of me got her standing straight.

“Start arranging the transport of the captured mage.” She declared, prompting a wave of nods from the men and grinding of my teeth.

“What?” I flatly demanded from royalty.

Her black eyebrows were raised in their own question, prompting me to continue.

“You’re going to let the scion live? The security risks alone are-”

I stopped when the princess raised her hand for silence. Palta gulped a bit of spit while the guards were clearly trying to weave their own magic to conjure some sort of invisibility. Harrah, however, was the one who stepped closer from my left.

“She’s a scion. Of a childbearing age, no less. Killing her off would only bring the ire of the mage associations. She’ll be locked up in special cells for mages and this battle will follow her for many years yet.”

My breath came out with a blow of the chill wind behind it. To confirm my suspicion, I concentrated on my frontal cortex and sent a spirit connection to the air scion.

‘Is that the game? They tag along because they know that they’re too valuable to go the way of the dross?’

Harrah clenched her teeth in the same manner I was, though the object of her frustration wasn’t as clear.

‘It’s not like they come with no risk. In case you forgot about how we arrived.’ Was all I got before she turned to the side to allow me an unobstructed view of the princess.

There seemed to be a lot the water scion wanted to say, but the gaggle of advisors with guards coming up behind her left no time for any such exchange.

“Now for the hard part.” Palta declared with a joyless smile before a bald man with a thick stack of papers in his hand moved up with a bow.

“I’m doing this in a chair.” The princess announced with a raised hand to the coming tide. “Not a word before I’ve gotten somewhere bearable.”

The guards made a path for her, which she promptly took.

I followed them down. Irritation clawed at my gut and heat came up my neck despite winter’s bite. Moving off to the left, entry into traffic was denied for a minute as the injured were moved out of the bitter cold. There I squatted with my guards, hearing the call of a warm bath in my own home over the cacophony of screaming wounded and shouting commanders trying to jostle one troop or squad into place.

That was until a loud scream cut through the chorus.

No clang of metal or yells of battle followed, immediately discounting an insurrection by the captured. Men started moving away from the harbor gate all the same, leaving me to sigh and sprint up the steps to check the disturbance. Near the front of the gate stood a woman with all the guards pulling back. The white lobster to her left marked her station, though the bloodied wrap around a head of red hair and equally sullied left side of her brown vest and white inner shirt showed a fall from the power her kind typically enjoyed.

I dropped off the steps and stole through the crowd, guards forming a line of flesh between me and the other travelers as I moved. The troops moved to the side while a vague voice gradually coalesced into the outraged screed of the woman.

“I need a stiff drink to put this day down and you give me some swill?”

Pushing through the men, I was fortunate that a lifetime of sufficient nutrition left me a bit taller than the other men and allowed me a wide view of the scene even with two layers of peasants ahead of me. In front of the scion was a discarded mug of spilled ale. The golden hue of alcohol mixed with the blood of a beheaded body just to its left. A helmet was off to the side, the backside showing nothing but wood even if the blood coming out of the bottom confirmed the piece was currently occupied.

“Some proper ale this time.” The scion declared, her green eyes simmering with contempt as she spat at the body. “And a warm bread, done with bits of cheese and ham.”

Weirdly, impossibly, some of the guards actually went to obey. Two did a light bow before leaving while three men went about wrapping the body of the man who had managed to survive the battle but not the cleanup. They moved out of the way of the woman doing a light walk forward with a proud strut in her step.

I stood there, taking in the scion, the pinnacle of magical ability and all the arrogance it inspired. There was no thought of reprisal in the scowl she had for her captors, no fear in the smile above her strong chin as she moved like this was a casual stroll through a well-trod park. Even now, at her lowest point, she had all the power by right of birth and mana.

A weed in desperate need of pruning.

Palta needed her alive, however. The devil in human flesh had a lot of value at the negotiating table and I had no idea what the political implications of killing her would be. Treading on decorum and being lowly were often forgivable, especially if it was out of sight. Being a threat was not. If those pretentious shits got the idea I was going to start costing the mage world valuable materials, they would probably decide that the old man needed to have an accident. To say nothing of drawing the potential ire of the royal family.

Looking at the stone floor, I saw some blood sully her boot. Blood on the place my Orc wife was going to be living at. A potent cocktail of anxiety and anger welled up in my gut. Of course, it didn’t help my wives if I pissed off everyone and got myself killed in a nighttime raid. There I stood, weighing the probabilities, improbabilities, and possibilities on the question of consequences for attacking my domain. Two scales shifting back and forth.

Then I saw the contempt in her face as she began taking in her surroundings. Her gaze focused on the walls with that smoothness only found in magical works and the large slabs of summoned stone used to block up the harbor gate, their crafts to the right still sucking in mana and forming the rock from the ether. A sharp nose curled upward in offense paired with puckered lips left no doubt as to what she thought of the goings on here. However, it was the wooden armor that drew her greatest ire as she walked towards the crowd.

A hint of anger blossomed in those green eyes. Something about having magic crafts make things for the peasants directly, instead of for the city itself, seemed to carry the greatest sin. It was that mix of righteous indignation and contempt that damned her.

This place was going to be a source of humiliation for her, both personally and professionally. The kind of humiliation that got repaid on a dark night, probably with a few friends who wanted to be known as the ones who put such disgrace to ruin. The scales tipped with certainty and the pondering to inflict some kind of consequence became a decision.

As the woman walked forward and the men began moving aside like servants making way for the lord of the house, I got a good idea of what those consequences would be. A look to the back towards Palta’s retreating entourage saw them all facing away from the scene. The opening was here and I seized it for all it was worth. I sucked in as much mana as I could, trying to use the men in front of me as a visual shield. As the earth spell came together, the woman finally breached the peasants with only my guard in front of her.

I did an exaggerated dodge to the left, pushing aside the man in front as I did so, while I set off the mana construct. A small boulder whizzed through the air, only clipping the right side of her vest before landing on the target with a sickening crunch. Totally unharmed, her red eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“You!” She demanded, looking me up and down like I was a myth of the forest come to play. For a second, we stood still before those green eyes went wide and the strong chin trembled. She spun around, no doubt noticing the missing spirit connection.

Around the disappearing boulder was a clear liquid. Despite the lack of color, everyone knew it to be blood on account of the mass of ruined shell and white flesh around the sides where it had impacted against the familiar’s head. A few of the long legs along the horse-sized lobster twitched, but it was the residual firing of nerves from a brain that was no longer there.

“ZANEL!” The water scion screamed, fear and anger mixing into a terrible screech.

Whatever desires those emotions had, I was already moving up to her with a rod of rough grey stone to deny them any release.

Whether I was too fast or she was too busy processing her new solitude in this world, the rod took her in the side of the mouth before she had even moved a hair. Blood splattered against the craggy stone as she fell in a heap like a sack of grain, with not a sound from her or any of the other onlookers beyond that smack of flesh. No one moved as all the men tried to process the violence that had occurred among the high and mighty. That was until a great blast of air blew through everyone, with Harrah landing on my right with confused blue eyes. Those black pigtails twirled as she looked at me, the woman, the dead familiar then back to the perpetrator.

“She tried to kill me!” I exclaimed, letting my weapon flicker into oblivion. A few drops of blood and the conspicuous clank of a tooth accompanying the rod's disappearance took over the otherwise silent soundscape. Harrah’s black eyebrows raised and the pursed lip told of some skepticism.

“The spies must have told her what I looked like because as soon she saw me, she started sucking in mana for a spell. Though I suppose her control isn’t the best because I managed to get my boulder out before her water spell could go off.”

She didn’t believe me.

Instead of voicing such a thing, her head bobbed to two men carrying medical wraps. Before they went about patching the pirates fresh wound, Harrah put her finger in front of the woman's face for a moment before leaning back up.

“Seeing as how no mage was around, it will be your word against hers that it was self-defense. That might have been a problem if her fellow pirates hadn’t been flicking the nose of the Devourer. I don’t think anyone is going to be in the mood to give her side any benefit even with the tragic consequences of her attack on you. I also suppose she had good cause to come after you before this. A future issue now lessened with her loss.” The air scion offered with disinterest, looking at me with a small smile.

Is it a lie if both parties know it isn’t true?

I crossed my arms, looking towards the mangled lobster as the men started getting the limp woman wrapped in the needed bandages.

“I do hope my moment of panic hasn’t harmed our position at the table.”

Harrah did another look over the woman.

“Nah. She still has a lot of value on the battlefield, not as much as she used to but enough. The important parts are still intact. It’s a good thing your wild shot didn’t take out her lower half.” She offered before strolling past me. One more knowing gaze of those blue eyes was all I got before she prepared a wind spell and took off into the air.

My exit from the scene was less dramatic, but the walk back through the crowd of men was met with a mix of awe, fear, and trepidation all the same. The goings on of mages were done in dimensions of existence their lowly level would never see, yet here they had even participated in a duel among those titans. Judging by the fevered whispers and excited looks, family dining tables and young siblings would be hearing of this day for years to come.

The only memory I was going to remember would involve a warm bath. The trip across the stone field took a few minutes, with one of the guards running off to get the maids to prepare some warm water. By the time I walked across the wooden bridge, my feet were screaming. A nod was all I gave the guards who came out of the tall walls and half-oval ceiling that served as my home here.

Going in, I took a left through the door leading into the sectioned-off parts of the house, all illuminated by a fresh torch on the right wall. Straight ahead was a hallway with doors on the side, but it was the one at the end that I dashed towards. A few minutes on the latrine was all it took before I strolled out back into the main room where the maids arrived with a large half barrel and several pots of steaming water, which they began emptying into the bath.

I managed to get off my shirt before a wrinkly man in a brown robe walked through the main door sporting a few bottles of red liquid. Behind him came Kev, the unofficial liaison between me and the guards. The man was sporting his typical steel breastplate and sword, though the look of exhaustion was new.

“A great victory, my lord.” He offered over the splashes of water, his brown eyes around the thin nose showing some genuine admiration. A breath of frosty breath flowed over his oak beard and mustache.

“Not as great as this bath is going to be. More water, if you please.” I said, dismissing the maids with a handwave. They promptly vacated the room with a bow, allowing me to remove my pants. As I prepared to get into the steaming bath, a cough from the older man stopped me before I could lift my left leg.

“A healing potion for any residual pains.” He offered with a bow and a palm bearing one of the vials outstretched.

“I’m sure there are a few poor souls out there who need it more. Distribute them to the discretion of the healers.” I offered before slinging myself headfirst into the bath with a small splash. The enveloping warmth was like a shot of life fed directly into my soul, taking with it bits of dirt and grime I didn’t even realize were there. When I came up, the older man’s green eyes were wide while Kev seemed a bit worried.

“I want a full report of damages in an hour,” I commanded as I slung my back against the side and kept only my head above the near scalding water.

There was a moment of confusion between the two of them, but they had just received an order from on high and a lifetime of obedience gradually kicked in. Two bows and I was alone with nothing but the flickering torchlight and a now very dark sky through the door. Good company for a listless soak.

Sadly, my day did not end there.

The report came after I had finished bathing. As well as it seemingly did, the harbor gate had its gears destroyed and was being held up by the stones behind it. Several ballistae were ruined and the stone shields on top of the walls were all gone. My harbor was a distant memory. Even the anchors for the docks had been ripped up. The stone section that the wooden piers had connected to had also been compromised with large, deep cracks from the catapults.

As I perused the wrecked docks and jagged pieces of my labor in the torchlight, Kev told me what happened during the missed battle. Which wasn’t too much, considering the fate of a city probably hung in the balance. The scions used some spell to get the ships close enough that the giant trebuchet couldn’t hit them without potentially destroying our walls. They largely succeeded, losing only two of their ships in moving the vessels forward in two pairs and a trio.

He also described one other factor, my wooden weapons and armor. Assuming the peasants were desperately using some training swords and bits of barrels, the assault up the ladders was swiftly launched. Most of the scum only realized how dangerous the swords and spears were when they were sticking out of both sides of their chest. The assault eventually pulled back, with their ship's weapons aimed towards the catapults and ballistae. Whatever their next move was, we put a stop to it.

Not before both sides had wrecked the battlefield, however.

I could paste over it to a decent degree, but such a solution could lead to a collapse when the Orcs started tunneling under it. No, the entire harbor would have to be stripped and redone. As I retired to bed, I only hoped that Palta would not withdraw her men before that task was completed.

When my head hit the pillow, a small whoosh of air could be heard outside my door. Which was when a spirit connection hit me. No words, only emotions of worry and irritation.

‘Hey, Cell,’ I offered my familiar as the door opened with a creak. There was no way I could see anything in this dim light, but another creak of the door shutting and a sudden weight on my chest told me all that I needed to know.

I was looking forward to a nice exchange, perhaps getting an update on how the ‘lost’ city of magic Keltons was going. What I got was an image of a burning Kelton hold with three pirate ships in the bay. The next was two ships of refugees heading southward towards here.

‘Damn. What’s Salamede doing?’ I asked him.

Vast planes of empty snow opened up in my mind’s eye before they shifted to camps of hungry Kelton near the water.

“She’s going to bolster her numbers with the remaining scroungers up north?”

Agreement came through the connection. Then a long boat with wide sails on top like the fin of a fish. That was the last image before I was left with the black void in front of me.

Taking it all in, feeling the soreness in my feet and legs as I did so, I could only huff.

‘Let’s sleep Cell. Our trials are for tomorrow.’

It turns out tomorrow would not tolerate a delay in its due. A muffled slamming on the front door woke me up far too early. Cell was likewise displeased but he quickly slid beneath the left side of the bed. I got up, feeling the bitter cold around my hands while the brown pants and white shirt swung some of that precious heat out with each of my movements.

Another bang on the door.

“Tilvor!” Harrah’s voice rang out.

My boots were thrown on as I moved through the door and took a left through another. It occurred to me that I had drawn the bridge up, the usual sign of ‘go away’. As I came up to the main entry door, I reminded myself how surprising this news should be. The fact of the early morning was emphasized further when I let in the winter wind and greeted a sky that had only a sliver of light. Something Harrah was considerate enough to look remorseful over as I leaned against the doorway.

“Those three missing ships? We found out where they went.” She spat out with a hand twirling her right pigtail.

I stood a bit straighter in anticipation of such an unexpected revelation.

“They hit the closest Kelton hold in the north. But the place wasn’t torched like our settlements, instead it's been taken over for a base of operations.

“That quickly?” I asked with a raised eyebrow as I ushered her in. The wind had died down, but that didn’t change the fact winter was still in full force.

“The goat-people are good neighbors by the lack of interactions. They’ve inquired about some trouble with food shipments but getting involved in human business has never been their preference.” She said as she took in the abode with tired blue eyes. “We found this out because two ships filled with refugees arrived this morning. Ships that had to hug the coastline to avoid the morning feeding frenzy and now rest at the bottom of our harbor from having their hulls cut up.”

“What numbers are we looking at?” I asked with crossed arms as I leaned against the wall. Harrah turned around to look me in the eyes.

“At least three hundred. Certainly more, but they didn’t exactly have time to do a head count.”

“You’ll be sending them here, I suppose.” I offered, trying to sound more irritated at this sudden burden than I was.

“Do you have some grievance with their kind?” She asked, biting her lips as she sped up the twirling of her hair.

“They can have sour tempers… But they aren’t the ones who murdered my daughter. Will this help kill more of those filth?”

A firm nod greeted my question.

“The hold was a major trading post for the Keltons and frequented by all of their kind. The Mist pirates probably pissed off a lot of other clans when they put the place to the torch. This could be a big part of tipping things in our favor if we play it right. We just need somewhere to put them for a bit while the locals sort out where to put them, who’s paying for their food, and on, and on. It shouldn’t be more than a day or two.”

“Will I get to keep using the laborers?”

Harrah gave me a nod with some hope in her blue eyes.

“Palta says whatever you need. At least as long as the Keltons will be staying, then their rations will have to go back to regular levels. After that, we’ll work out some kind of arrangement for the workers who want to stay.”

I pushed myself off the wall, opening the door as I did so.

“Let’s get to it then,” I announced as I went into the open air.

“How many houses are you going to be making?” Harrah asked with the sound of running feet behind me.

“Not just houses,” I called behind me as the guards near the bridge came up to my sides. “I’m going to build another walled-off section. This time done right. And a full, proper, farm to the side.”

“Excellent.” She responded before a gust of bitter wind blew through my back. Off to my left, I saw the air scion zip through the now slightly brighter morning sky. Her movements suggested a far happier mood than the one I was going to have. Resigning myself to fate, I headed towards the kitchen with fresh orders and a long day for the overseers.