Salamede POV

*Creak*

The groan of my chair occupied a portion of my mind far larger than it should have. Even as I sat in front of my desk, scribbling down some orders for more housing. My writing was a bit below my typical penmanship as the back and forth of the ship’s motion among the waves coupled with the faint light of the wide window behind me made the task more perilous. Even as important as the order was, my attention was still hung up on the groan of my seat. After enjoying Eli’s craftsmanship for so long, the ears picked up every squeak, irritation doubled whenever a door didn’t flawlessly swing, and walks grew tiresome whenever the halls were that inch or so too narrow when passing by others.

It was far better than what I had grown up with, in every possible respect, but great heights exaggerated the smallest fall.

I moved a hand over the pink and teal dress currently covering my body to feel the soft fibers. Its colors swirled with the same display of the snails with a thicker tuft around the collarbones. Despite the lack of visible padding, it was still thick enough to insulate against the bitter cold even in this far north.

Accentuating my distraction, the door leading into my office creaked open. Looking up, I saw the older Kelton man with black fur and spiral brown horns who had become my advisor standing at the door. The arrival of which brought a new wave of salty air and faint ocean spray.

‘We’ve arrived, my lady,’ Kantor said in a spirit connection, placing a hand on his sword hilt. It fit with the metal chest piece and leg guards over his white shirt and black pants. We had put a few ridges on the sides to imitate the texture of a snail shell and the sheen still shined even in the meager light from the grey sky.

I pushed away from the table with a readying breath. My shoes clacked across the wooden floor in a way the leather flaps I had back in the Coalition never could. The walk took me past the bed and wardrobe on the left side of my abode, where a large mirror stood on the opposite wall. Kantor made way for my approach by stepping to the right. I made sure to notice the retreating grey in Kantor’s mane as I passed and came out onto the deck of the ship.

The vessel was a long thing with two masts in the middle. Unlike the airships, it had visible boards instead of a seamless construction. It didn’t have the rock-shooting tubes they had either, but the two floors of floating wood were sturdy and the catapults around the sides had a fineness that eluded to a great mastery of craftsmanship. That the men had only been using them for a week or so would hopefully not show to our newcomers. Behind me, I could hear the twirl of the navigator's wheel above me as he brought the ship to its final stop.

The entire point of this expedition lay to the right among the snowy crags. In a wide half-bowl sat a settlement much the same as I had seen in my time as a fake merchant, complete with the lack of docks and a flurry of black-robed guards along the upper ridges. We shared the space just outside of the bay with two other ships in the same mean condition as the one that I had traveled in.

The boat we were placing down into the sea was sporting three men cladded in the steel Kantor was sporting. As I approached the side of the ship, it occurred to me that some people in the other ships were probably watching. A ball of worry dropped in my stomach as I used the rope ladder to get into the dinghy. The men made way for me as I landed on uncertain wood and moved towards the back. Paying closer attention to the rocky outcroppings, I noticed a number of desperate fishermen working poles and nets, trying for some catch that was hanging about with no luck if the empty buckets and thin bodies were anything to go by.

It was a few minutes of moving sacks of grains, fish, and flour. I spent it looking at the water boosters on the side of the ship. Long tubes with only the very top above water, ending with a sharp slope upward to meet the tip of the vessel they helped propel forward. When the last sack hit the floor, Kantor got in. He sat on the left of me, looking over the men who were now also sitting down. Satisfied, he pressed a black circle painted on the boat's left side before working smaller squares on the sides. It sped forward with a sharp turn rightward, making the spare oars stored under the sides smack against the wood as we all tried to stay upright amidst the crashing waves.

Despite the lack of sun, it was still mid-morning. My concerns about running into any other boats vanished when I looked at the beach leading into the settlement. It was barren save a few kids ambling about the sand. Further in the back was row after row of shabby houses with stone walls and patchworks of cloth to serve as doors or extra padding in the roofs. Along the right side sat several cloth tents sporting large cauldrons, though only one sat in front of a long table sporting arrays of knives, spoons, and ladles. The lack of activity at the only one apparently in service confirmed that even that last public bastion of sustenance had given out.

Our approach to the beach was immediately noticed by the guards. Men in black robes began moving to the spot near the cooking tents where our boat was pointed. When the wooden tip ran into the sand, the boat eventually got on land enough that it stopped. Even with that, water still sprayed out from the back until Kantor pressed the black circle again.

The guards got out of the boats with a plunk into the moist sand. Our crates of food were lifted out while I swung my feet over the side. Despite my worst fears, the move was executed gracefully. Keltons in varying patches of cloth rags made into clothes started mixing with the black-cloaked men. All of them, guard and civilian alike, only had eyes for me. A hundred or more pairs of grey orbs bored into me and if it wasn’t for getting used to the attention by leading the ‘lost mage colony’, I would have probably frozen on the spot.

Now? I only felt sweat dripping down my back and a horrible churn in the gut.

That didn’t stop me from moving forward. I had healed several wounds with my magic, led an expedition to reclaim my people's lost glory, and acquired the heart of the world’s greatest man. I was almost certain that the people present wouldn’t instantly see the upstart maid beneath all that. An assumption I repeated to myself as I strode onto the rock floor marking the start of the village proper.

“I have a deal for your cook if you’ll allow it,” I asked the gathering. It was obvious where they were, but it was the only way I could think to start the conversation in the proper direction.

The guards looked between each other but one brown-furred man with a metal-tipped spear moved forward with a spirit connection.

‘Shipments for food carry no tax as of now. I’ll show you to them.’ He offered with a small raise of his head with curled grey horns. I nearly did a small nod in courtesy until my etiquette lessons came back to me. Instead, I coughed.

‘Lead on.’

He nodded towards the tents with large pots. The men followed behind me in a line with a crate each. Some of the guards tried to disperse the crowd with a shove or a shout, yet their efforts were hopeless as the place had little else going on besides starvation if the lean figures were anything to go by.

The lean grey-furred man behind the cook’s counter got up from his stool to stand in attention of the coming crowd, adjusting his patchwork of brown cloth that served as a tight robe. My guards pushed a bit ahead to lay the crates along the counter. They each used their leather-covered hands to pull open the tops to reveal the treasures within. A waft of salted fish ambled through the air, prompting a few gulps behind me.

“We require the use of your kitchen, my good man. If you agree to cook this up and more, we will give you five fish, a mug of flour, and two mugs of grain. In the fish crate, you’ll find a cube of fat to start frying them in.” I offered audibly, the roughness in my voice on full display.

“Yes!” He agreed in the same manner with a bit more force than needed. His next move was to acquire his payment immediately with his cups and hands, storing that precious nourishment beneath his counter. I waited patiently, strumming my rather immaculate nails across the wood until the last portion of his mug was taken. “With just this, I can do up some breaded fish and wheat porridge.”

“No spices or extra sides?”

He bit his lips, rubbing his patchwork of cloth.

“None to be had, my lady. Not the best showing for someone of your stature, but I have a few years of cooking with lean ingredients, and it’ll come out better than you’d think. The fuel will take a minute to procure but that shouldn’t take too long.”

“No need.” I offered, waving to an enthusiastic Kantor.

The man leaned by the large pot, picking up two stray boards. He sucked in mana and began working his fingers over the cold wood. Our audience had no idea what he was doing, obviously, but they dutifully watched with rapt interest. When Kantor finally finished, he stuck out one finger at the tip of which a candle’s flame sprang into life.

“AAH!” The nearest local guard pulled back with a shout.

“What happened?!” Someone in the back demanded.

Others began talking amongst themselves in spirit connections. They made no sounds, but the sudden jerking of heads and waving of hands left no doubt as to their conversation. Our temporary cooks’ eyes didn’t change much as they were already widened by the arrival of our food, though he now bit his lip.

Kantor continued his work, burning a half-circle at the top of the board. He looked it over for a second before pressing the center of the burned-in mark. A circle of finger-high flame shot out of the bottom of the boards, with no singe of the wood beneath and only the sucking in of gold and blue specks in the air, though the people here couldn’t see the latter.

“I think we’ll need more food,” I announced to my escort. Two of the men did a light bow, much to the surprise of the audience. They paid no mind, heading back to the boat with a casual turn to the beach.

“How much more will you be bringing?” The cook asked as he took the board from Kantor like it was a precious family heirloom. He looked to the fire mage with his head facing to the right in deference even as he was being instructed in the use of the flames.

“That depends,” I said with a turn to the apparent head of the guards. “How much do you think these people will require?”

His lips puckered as he stood still for a moment. No chatter came from any of the surrounding Keltons as they were equally stunned at the statement. He made good on his higher position, however, by being the first to move forward on legs that seemed a bit unsteady.

“What payment would be expected?” He asked, moving his head to the side. My time among humans made their body language somewhere between irritating and weird. Just another reminder that no snout or horns could hide the fact that I was a foreigner to these lands.

“You have orphans and others out of work, do you not? I think they’d have better odds with me.”

Those chapped lips were licked with worry, the obvious question on his tongue. To his credit, he immediately grasped the difference in our strength at this negotiating table.

“More than we can feed. Not that we can say differently for ourselves right now.”

“Then we have an agreement?” I said with a clap of my hand, getting up from the stool.

“Aye”

It was that word which prompted the first sound from the crowd.

“Just them?” One woman in the crowd called. My eyes perused the masses trying to find the source, giving up after a few seconds. However, the search did let me take a good look at the denizens. They were all painfully thin. When I had gone through a similar outpost, it had been clear that those present were on the edge of survival. These poor souls had gone well past that point.

As horrible as it was, their poverty did help me. I had spent a long time going over how to convince them to go along with a group of Kelton mages to spirits knows where with no history to give. Time now wasted. Their spines were broken by their stomachs and the eager looks among them said this was the only hope they had of seeing another summer.

“Whoever wants to come,” I announced, regretting the need to kill the eager joy springing up in the sea of goatish faces. “But not immediately. Other settlements are in dire need of supplies as well. We will be taking those who might die if left behind, with the rest of you coming once those have been seen to.”

The crowds’ reactions were mixed, with its members displaying irritation, worry, or relief that they had some means of surviving even if it was far off. Some of them clearly had questions but the sounds of knives being sharpened behind me drew their attention. The chef was preparing his tools while on the left two boards spewing flames began melting a pot filled with snow. A rare enough sight that the denizens of this place decided to take it in. A perfect moment to drive my bargain to its finish.

“Some food will be dropped off before we leave.” I proclaimed to the crowd, who drew their gazes back to me. “Another ship will come two days from now. They will have some food but that is when we’ll begin the evacuation in earnest. Whatever hunting parties that have been sent out will come back to a small number of guards left behind to explain things.”

The leader of the guards stood a bit straighter, pensive, yet he still took a step forward from my left.

“What will we be telling them?”

“That you were taken to a hold in the snail lands,” I answered.

Another wave of spirit conversations rolled through the crowd. I could spend more time giving explanations, but there was one last important item to see to.

“Now. If anyone is injured, please come meet me by the boat.” I announced before getting off my stool and walking towards the beach. Most looked apprehensive as my guards began taking up their usual position around me, but there were a few with bandaged arms or nasty gouges of one description or another who pushed through their fellows.

When I got to the boat, I sat on the impromptu bench with a slow grace that came rather naturally. I felt like I was beginning to understand why leaders always seemed so graceful when they were going about their business. It’s because it’s hard to slouch when you know every eye around is judging you.

My butt pressed onto the side of the boat while my guards started working the injured who began approaching. We had discussed everything that we would do once we arrived at the shore and the men corralled them into a workable line without any instruction needed. The first patient was a man with straight ivory horns and a brown mane. He sported a rather mangled-looking left shoulder covered in bloody rags that seemed to have been torn from his robe.

“A bit closer, if you please,” I told him. Aside from the crashing waves, it was almost totally silent as the onlookers took in the scene. He did so, looking at the boat’s contents. No doubt expecting some herbs or bottles of whatever non-magical healers used, his brown eyebrows furrowed when all he saw was empty wood. Which was when I sucked in mana and placed a hand over his wound.

“OOH!” He yelped.

The crowd pulled back a bit, wondering what horror he had uncovered.

“Yeah,” I offered with a smile. “Healing magic does have a warmth to it they never seem to mention.”

His eyebrows shot up while his face turned down, trying to not send his horns towards me in challenge as he did so. The flesh beneath my hand molding and twisting seemed to mesmerize him. Even when I pulled my hand back, he stood still for a second before raising his left hand. Expected pain never arrived and he proceeded to do a full circle of the arm like he was savoring the motion.

Another wave of silent conversation seized the crowd save for the woman behind him, who gave an irritated snort.

‘If it’s all fine, I do have others to attend to.’ I politely chided in a spirit connection.

He jerked up before doing that side head dip.

‘Thank you. Thank you.’ He offered before moving to the left.

Despite the preparation, the rest of my patients all followed the actions of the first. I suppose it was to be expected when a days or even weeks-long injury suddenly disappears. When I got halfway through the line, Kantor leaned over my left shoulder.

‘How are you holding up?’

I shrugged as I brushed away the black stain of frostbite from a man’s fingers.

‘I can see why Eli immediately makes crafts for any magic. Something I’ll definitely imitate at the next outpost. But for now, it’s more tedious than anything. There doesn’t seem to be too many severe injuries, which is a small mercy I suppose.’

The older man huffed.

‘Severe injuries don’t exist. Not this far north.’

I knew to immediately discard the hopeful interpretation of those words.

After a half hour of mending ruined flesh, the line of injured disappeared. Any injuries left in the camp were either too light to bring to my attention or on people not trusting enough to come forward. Either way, my time nursing wounds had come to a close. Two of the guards took the boat back to the ship to get another run of supplies while I went up to the kitchen.

The chef had two women now helping to prepare the fish and porridge. I sat off to the side, letting the curious get their looks in at the mysterious mage woman. Their interest and wonder fought with their rapt need for the goings on at the other end. As the first fish was being served, the boat came back now laden with five crates.

The local guard, having long since given up any pretension of being in control, moved to help get the boxes into place behind the kitchen. This was also the time when the passengers for my trip back arrived. A small flock of Kelton young moved from between two tents onto the beach. It was a smattering of teens and toddlers holding onto their hands.

“We were told to come to the beach.” One of the older girls said, trying to take in the boat and not focus too much on the food cooking to the side. Something the rest of the dozen-plus orphans didn’t bother trying to resist.

The waft of wheat porridge flowed over the tents in front of the kitchen, its steam moving through the bitter-cold air like a cloud. The two women were working a large ladle to stir the wheat and now fully melted snow. The chef was working a bowl of flour with fish mixed in. There was no butchery going on as they had already been gutted and he dared not waste the heads.

“Once you have gotten a proper meal, you’ll all be coming with us to a hold in the south.”

The older girl, not more than a spring past fifteen years, stepped forward with a raise of her grey-fur covered chin.

“I can work hard. Zezel and Hemry can as well. Enough for the others, if needed.”

My heart got a little crack at the sight. She was in that age between girl and blossomed woman yet hard times had forced motherhood onto her back despite the shortness of her pointed horns. I took her right shoulder with a soft squeeze.

“We’ll make sure they all get fed. After a few days of rest, you’ll be assigned an apprenticeship with some of our shops. As will the others in time. If you’re up for it.”

“Yes!”

“I’m ready!”

“Can we go now?!”

The cascade from the orphans poured forth but I stopped it with a raised hand.

“Meal first.”

Porridge and fish fried in the provided fat were quickly served up in bowls. The portions were meager at first since the first batch had to be stretched between a hundred or so people. More crates were opened, snow gathered, and breaded fish fried on a long pan with a third fire enchantment. I had to admit the three cooks worked a magicless miracle, getting almost the entire camp fed in less than an hour.

The older girl was near the beach with her little troop, fussing over a younger member or another. I was tempted to intervene, but when I almost got up from my seat at the end of the kitchen counter I remembered the high station I was pretending to have. So, I left the girl to care for her brood. While the third round of bowls was being distributed in the late morning sun, two boats arrived from the sea. Their rowers’ blue coats immediately identified them as being members of the ships waiting out in the sea.

Kantor nodded to one of the guards who walked towards the disembarking sailors.

‘Should I offer to have them accompany us? Could be useful, having some people who know the waves.’ I asked the older man who was hugging my left.

‘They can ask for that, my precious daughter,’ Kantor cautioned. ‘The initiative here was yours to take since it was all your proposal. This is theirs. You’re the head of the north’s most powerful clan, even if no one knows it yet. Don’t let people get the idea they will be allowed to fill your ears of their own accord or you will never know a moment’s peace again.’

I looked down, seeing the now black fur where grey had always been. Kantor needed to be by my side whenever I dealt with the Kelton side of things to explain basic etiquette or history from his times roaming between clans. Of course, outright stating that I needed a minder for basic diplomacy would not be ideal. Instead, he would play the part of a doting father to explain his constant presence.

I left them to it. Part of me wanted to try a portion of the communal meal for myself, more out of idle curiosity than real hunger, but that would be taking from the mouth of one of the destitute. The guard who brokered the request from the sailors came back with a sideways bow.

‘They’ve requested some food. As well as permission to follow behind us towards our hold. The coats hide it, but I don’t think they’re any better off than the ones here.’ He informed me in a spirit connection.

‘They demand nothing. Give it to them without any requirement. Once they’re in our docks, we will have a surer footing to make demands.’

He turned to inform the sailors of their good fortune.

Stomachs eventually started getting full and the children almost immediately began falling asleep against crates or on ragged corners of tents. That was the signal that it was time to depart, which the orphans did in two trips before it was finally my turn. The brown-furred leader of the guard came up to me as I stood in front of the boat with the local men unloading the last load of the food.

“There is no amount of poetry I could recite to convey my gratitude. Our gratitude. We have nothing to offer save our lives, though even that isn’t much these days.” He announced loud enough for the crowd to hear.

I drew myself up a bit straighter.

“Then we will have to make your lives more valuable. We require workers and soldiers back at the hold. I don’t promise great riches, but a home and steady meals will be available for even the lowest worker.”

He did another sideways nod.

“That’s a king’s bounty all on its own. We will be ready to go to… wherever your hold is.” he declared with not a single objection from the crowd. If there had been any dissenters, the gentle direction of a wife or smack on the head from a brother no doubt set them straight.

“In a few days, our ship should be back. Times are uncertain, so we will be giving you a few days of supplies in case we should be delayed. Now, I could weave a tale of our home, but my oral art is not up to the task. It must be seen, not explained.”

With that, I got into the boat with the guards who finished dropping off the last few crates. A forest of waving hands from the mass of Keltons followed our exit from the beach, which I regarded with a smile before turning to the open sea. It was less than a minute before we were clambering back up the side of the ship and on the floorboards that felt as solid as stone ground.

‘How are the kids?’ I asked one of the passing men with a white shirt and brown pants.

‘Good. Thin things they may be, they settled right in.’ The brown-haired Kelton replied.

‘Let’s shove off then. Inform the navigator that he shouldn’t go so fast as the other two ships in the bay will be accompanying us back home.’

There was a ghost of irritation that passed over his face at the last part, something he had the self-control to not let fully out. I had to admit that I understood his annoyance, a boat traveling on the power of water enchantments such as ours would move at a gallop compared to one that travelled only by wind. Still, their skills would be invaluable and they could even serve as extra cargo space on the way back.

‘And get me two boards as well. I will be making some crafts.’ I informed him, this time the words receiving an enthusiastic sideways head bob.

I moved to the left towards my room. My next hour was spent putting a few healing enchantments on some boards. While I had made sure to have healing enchantments on the troops' leather chest pieces, I had forgotten to make some for the passengers. It was nice, laying on the humble bed with the rocking of the boat rolling with the sea. The pillows were far better than the withered things I had back in the town of the Diamond academy, but they couldn’t compete with the arms of my man or the heaving of his chest after a night of play. The somber moment of loss came just in time for Kantor to arrive.

“We’ve arrived,” He announced with a small smile.

It took only a moment to make the dress acceptable in the golden glow of a mana crystal above the mirror. In far too little time, I was back in the boat looking over the small waves with five guards and as many crates. This time, Kantor was in the front with a torch. The lad on my left touched the markings for thrust. As we moved forward towards the dark land, my ‘father’ stopped us twice to send out a fireball to make sure we weren’t about to run headlong into a rock. Heavy winds decided to join us about halfway through, sucking away any residual heat in our clothing.

The beach eventually came close enough to make out among the dark rocks. I breathed a sigh of relief as legs below shifting robes started moving towards our spot. Kantor shouted something, but none of it could be heard over the gale and crashing of waves against the shore. For my part, I was trying to find a good spot to set up our cooking station among the dark tents. Given the destitution having befallen this region, it was no wonder they couldn’t afford to have torches constantly running. Another magic gift we’d have to wow them with back home.

Seemingly sensing my wishes, Kantor sent a wave of flame over the heads of the denizens. The goatish heads illuminated in the orange hues showed some flesh beneath fur that wasn’t quite as thin as those we had visited on the first trip, but spirits were there a lot of gashes and deep cuts to be seen to. Luckily my crafts-

My heart stopped when in the middle of the crowd I saw a man missing his jaw with the tongue flopping out of the neck hole. Pushing down some very unpleasant memories on a farm far, far east of here, I made some very quick guesses on how fast we were going. I slapped a water spell together and launched it as our navigator realized what he was steering us into.

A small churn in the sea pushed us back towards the open sea like a piece of bark caught in the whims of a river, drowning out the sounds of the dead splashing about in the waves behind us. It wasn’t clean and the boat got pushed on its left side enough that it creaked in protest, but the sight of the ship was now in front of us.

Kantor didn’t seem particularly joyous as he stood facing toward the back of the boat, his jaw set in a grind.

“When I shout ‘stop’, that means stop the boat at that exact FUCKING MOMENT!” He yelled towards the unfortunate man currently working the marks on the side of the boat. The verbal abuse carried over the wind and now quieter waves, but it was my raised hand that drew everyone’s gazes.

“He didn’t hear it. Neither did I. Use spirit connections and the man in the middle to relay messages. It’s been a long day and it’s barely started. Let’s just get back to the ship in as high spirits as possible.”

Kantor looked up to the sky for a moment, fist clenching the torch in his right hand.

“I’m getting too old for this.” He announced to no one in particular as he turned back to the open sea.

The remainder of our trip was conducted in silence. Fortunately, the next village was more like the first. The one after met the fate of the second. We had come as quickly as our shipwrights could put wood to water, but it was still too long for some. Overall, it was more sweet than bitter, with only two of the eight outposts in the icy wastes having met their end before our arrival.

There had been more before the big slog with the Mist pirates, yet their fate was sealed by emigration rather than the gnawing of their formerly living fellows. The wastelanders were not well-loved by the holds, with most of them being exiles from those same clans. Most, I gathered, simply moved southward towards the churning pot of the hot islands where they might find some foothold to stay. A grim prospect, but a better chance than those too poor, ill, or unlucky to leave had before our miracle arrival.

Something the last group of orphans seemed very aware of as they moved below deck with the first bits of food and slivers of hope they had enjoyed in a long time. While I was walking back to my office with a look at the boiling pot off on the distant shore, Kantor came up to me in the glow of the mana lamps around us.

“The locals said that was the last outpost of the wastes before we move onto clan Heesan territory.” He offered, his shoulder slouching a bit despite the attempt to straighten his spine against our days’ grueling work.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips without having decided to do so, the misty breath flowing over my still prim teal and pink swirled dress.

“Can we make a straight shot home?” I asked.

His head shake was worse than a fist to the gut.

“Not with our little entourage in the back. It’s looking late afternoon tomorrow if the winds favor us, morning the day after if the seas are feel mean.”

My tongue wanted to discuss other items of interest, but I just couldn’t summon the concentration or energy to do it.

“Good night.” Was all I told him before opening my door.

“You as well.” He replied before turning around.

It was a good night, after all. When I opened my eyes and looked at the rising sun coming out of my room window, it looked to be a good late morning as well. Irritation at lost productivity flowed through me, fighting the death grip my hands had on the warm inner layers of the blankets. The feeling of griminess eventually decided the duel, forcing me to throw back the covers and do a quick magical bath with the excess water being sent out the window. I took a moment to get myself in a long, flowing green dress I had stored in the wardrobe at the foot of the bed.

While it had the same color as the softer dress I had back home, the sharp edges on the shoulders and shorter leg section made it seem more…military in form rather than for dancing. As I sat at the desk looking over one long-neglected request or another, a cabin boy arrived with a tray of the ever-present wheat porridge and incredibly weak beer.

‘They’ve kept it as warm as they could, great lady.’ He informed me in a spirit connection.

‘Good,” I replied as I dismissed him with a wave of my hand.

Despite the loss in productivity, waking up on the schedule of ‘whenever-I-feel-like-it’ definitely agreed with me.

Our storage was now more orphan than crate, but we had enough to make the journey. I sequestered myself off from the world, seeing to one task or another in my cozy box. When a sailor opened the door a few hours later, I raised my eyebrow at how quickly we arrived.

“One of the clans’ ships spotted us. They hung around the side for a bit nearly out of sight, probably looking us over. Our lookout couldn’t see any insignia or banners to tell us who exactly they worked for, but it was a slimmer thing than the trade ships and definitely not the pirates. They turned away after a minute towards what we think is the direction of one of the holds.” He offered in the open doorway.

“Understood.”

With that, he turned out the door and closed it. I thought through what this meant, but my first inclination was to provide more ships for the next trip north. If the local clans decided to sate their curiosity, we would have to make sure it was done through polite means.

It took another day of travel before we arrived at the snail’s abode. This time, I made sure to wake up with the sun. I still wore my green dress, but I decided to wait until I got back to my proper home to make a change. After breakfast, the navigator tacked into the sea with five ships tailing us.

I watched from the side of the ship with the now energetic children who ambled about the ship while the older ones were helping with one task or another. The rocks stretched on for as far as the eyes could see, with caps of fresh snow covering the water between. Or falling off when one of the shifting rocks revealed itself to be the shell of a giant snail.

What drew my eyes was the two tall pillars of smooth stone, between which lay a clear channel leading further inland and a wide stone slab with the word ‘Entrance’ inscribed on it. This intake was wide enough for three ships side by side by my crude estimation, but dual towers ahead said it was built for only two. Along the sides were stone posts holding up a rope as thick as my arm to help steer visitors.

Looking behind us, I saw our line of seven followers dutifully going into the channel. My gaze went back to the front, taking in the construction. The towers were finished and had their four floors fully furnished. Between them was a bridge in its final stage of construction. In the future, ballistae and catapults would be arrayed along the top, adding to the defense would be archers in the windows. For now, it was just the buildings and a smooth road along the channel leading from this chokepoint to the main settlement beyond.

“What?!” One of the smaller boys on the left side of the boat yelled. The rest were too busy looking ahead with wide eyes.

The huge square of red stone flecked with grey had been expanded by molding the surrounding rock. In front of the stone cube were the fingers of docks reaching out into a widened lake. The piers were cleared of winter's white blanket, but the buildings behind them were still capped in snow. Behind the docks, rows of rectangular warehouses two stories high took up all the available space aside from the two double-wide roads leading into the city. The design was closely mimicked in the docks further up the outbound channel, though those were for military purposes and sealed off with large stone barriers sunk into the water around each pier.

Behind that was a long landscape of two or three-story high buildings. Each had a mushroom cap of a roof to keep the rain out and discourage any thieves looking to hop over the streets. A few had tendrils of steam coming out of a wide window, marking the bakeries on the left and forges on the right. The real attention grabber was the big dome in the middle of the city with six towers around the sides. It matched the grey stone of the other buildings, and I knew the walls to be three floors high, but the dome itself added two floors worth of height to the building that was serving as my abode and it was the endpoint of the wide double lanes that lead directly from the harbor.

We moved up to the docks, slipping into one of the seven piers. While men got the walking plank in place, more kids started coming up from the bowels of the ship. Their rag wraps had mostly been replaced with proper shoes while a few had some new shirts and pants mixed in with the cloth sacks made into clothing. It was all we had brought besides the food but more flax and fine fibers were being grown from ‘old’ plant enchantments.

I was the first over the plank. Ahead of me were three docks, each now sporting a ship of questionable construction. Well-worn habits made me want to help with the disembark, but I was the leader of this place. Not someone to be giving personal tours or working the luggage. My trip from the harbor with Kantor and my guards was held up as a column of steel-clad men came to make sure things went smoothly. The ships who tagged along were disembarking an officer with guards, though none moved beyond the wood of their pier. One of them was stuck out in the lake but still released a boat with more men.

The winter wind blew through the harbor, sending a cold bite through my now black fur that even reached the skin beneath. My first thought was to scurry the kids inside. Without thinking, I turned back to see the orphans being hurried into a building on the left of the harbor. It was the not yet functional harbor office that would serve as the center for paperwork in this district. Wide slabs of grey stone served as the body, as it did everywhere else, but the front had stone benches and a wide wooden cover for those ambling about outside or waiting to get through the wide double doors in the center.

For right now, its three stories would serve as a good place to keep the new guests. Moving past the building, I saw the admiral, Joeseen, approaching down the street with his own guards. An older gentlemen with near-white fur and stubby horns like my mother, his robes of blue with waves signified his station. His pronounced chin did that sideways bob toward me before he moved to what was going to be his future office to help get people settled in.

My feet carried me through the city with no slip on the occasional bit of snow still sticking to one bit of the street or another. The general layout was similar to the Diamond academy town. With a straight shot from the main entrance to the clear centerpiece of the city ahead. It wasn’t made with white brick, but the tall dome and sturdy walls still spoke to the obvious skill of our architects. Well, Eli was a part of our people, so it counted.

My sense of distance still struggled with how far the central dome was from the dock. This place had grown into something closer to a proper city. A nearly empty thing for a mere two hundred-some residents. In times past, I would have balked at calling a place with two hundred people barren. I also hadn’t lived in a city with almost five empty buildings for each occupied one.

Going down the wide street bereft of traffic, I braced against the bitter cold. An entire day had been spent squatting in my box and the stiffness in my legs didn’t help the trip. Eventually, I made my way up to the dual doors of black iron that served as the entrance to the heart of our new civilizations government. For each door, a large man in armor stood in attendance with a shield and sword. Unlike the regular guards who had distinct individual pieces, these had armor covering everything including the joints and neck.

Despite the difference in size and armaments, the two did a sideways head bob before pushing open the doors nearly twice the size of a man. I strode forward with an eager step to get out of the elements. What I stepped into was a huge flat floor ahead with the sides being taken up by an ascending mold of stone holding row upon row of flat surface serving as seats for spectators. Above the stands were mana lamps at measured points around the wall.

All looked down on by a yellow sun with a circle in the middle that matched the one on the floor directly below it and rays coming down the sides of the inner dome. The place could probably fit all the current residents here and then some. To my right was another pair of double doors down a small hallway. While that’s where most of the rest of my day was going to be, it was the large single door in the wall at the opposite end of the forum that demanded the next few minutes of my time.

The large open air was almost as chilly as the outside. No unlimited heat born of other dimensional crafts was to be found here despite the groans from some of those who had gotten used to the bases' luxury. When I got up to the door, I pushed through with a tired sigh. Inside was a barely lit room, owing to the triple-paned window far above letting in the faint sunlight escaping the clouds above. My hands fumbled for the mana lamp memory said was somewhere to the left. The smooth crystal eventually brushed against my hand, with my finger immediately going down to touch the needed place.

Golden light bathed the stone desk a few steps away, casting shadows over it and the large leather chair behind it. Along the left was the weathered mural that had survived the original tower here, a treasure that was spared from the fate of the building it originally resided in. The depiction of swords floating over a rocky landscape of snails was still discernable with its reds and pinks. If pressed, I would say it meant to show how the ancestors were going put the snail lands under our thumb, though the definitive authorities on its meaning were buried in the now-filled basement. The people I only had eyes for the door behind the desk. Walking around the room, I went through the entrance to my bedroom. Another flick of a mana lamp to my left supplemented the sparse light coming from a window above.

This time a long bed of white blankets and a dark-wood headboard were the main piece. Off to the left was a large wardrobe and mirror, but it was the door on the right that I stormed towards with only a quick snatch from the basket of towels on its left before going in. The showerhead was an unremarkable square with the same water flower of wood on the side that was in the base. One aspect from the far north we retained was plumbing, with a grate on the bottom of the floor allowing the bits of dirt and skin to flow into a communal channel of real water that would take it far out to an exit pipe in the ocean.

A few minutes of steam and rubbing on soap took me to another plane of existence. Reluctantly abandoning the moist warmth, I toweled off and got dressed in a fluffy white dress. More casual than the green one, it covered everything with a loose bottom and fluffy white fur around the top. One of many pieces stitched together by a very talented seamstress currently residing in the crafters' district.

I left my three-room world and came back out into the forum. Ahead near the main entrance was an older woman sporting a cream-colored dress and leather headcover. The woman responsible for all of our day-to-day items and the one who got me the attire currently filling my wardrobes. Her fur was a lighter brown almost matching her dress though her ivory horns went up straight like mine, something that was emphasized with her nod as I walked closer.

‘That’s it for leather,’ She offered in a spirit connection without preamble as I took a left with her. ‘The last bit was used this morning.’

‘I’m not torturing animals, Sheeka.’ I firmly stated as we continued towards the meeting room.

Her lips pulled back over her sharp chin.

‘Not torture… just reuse. We can get an infinite supply of hides with healing crafts.’

I turned to her, my chin raised.

‘Magic isn’t free, not even with crafts. The mana supply is already going to be uncertain when the forges and farms are running at their full sprint. We need smithies and food. With the plant fibers, we don’t need leather. If it becomes really important, we might find the time to experiment with the undead in the future, but we don’t have the means to do it right now.’

My efforts got me a defeated sigh from the woman’s lips even with the swing of the doors opening. The victory was small, but it was a good start to the meeting. The conference room was longer than mine, with a long table of stone surrounded by three chairs on each side, lit up with a single mana lamp above. At the head was a larger specimen that I quickly took a seat in.

The right seat was quickly taken up by Sheeka. In time, the man overseeing the forges came in. His grey fur had bits of ash, with black flecks even falling from those spiral brown horns. His chin had a longer tuff of fur than most, the closest thing to the human equivalent of a goatee my kind had. Most of the flecks fell onto his thick leather apron and hopelessly ruined white shirt. The black pants seemed to fair a bit better, if only in appearance.

“Lady Salamede.” He announced in a rough voice as he came through the door bring with him the sharp sting of burned wood. “The smiths are-“

I put up a hand up.

“Let’s wait for everyone, Menkie.”

He nodded and took up the seat on my left. The gathering was eventually filled with Kantor further down the left wearing a plain brown shirt and black pants that held the holster for the sword on his hip. He regarded me with a nod of his black fur before taking his seat. It was a minute of more idle silence before Joeseen finally arrived, his waved embroidered robe sporting a few flecks of snow as he took the seat further down the right.

They had all been chosen for their previous talents in those lives that were now lost to time. The second most important attribute was a steady head and their possession of that was why they had been chosen for such high positions. They also had either outlived everyone in their original clan or been one of those who had been born in the wastes, but that could be said for every member of our ‘lost mage’ clan.

“How did they settle in?” I asked him as he adjusted in his seat.

“It was a lot of wrangling, but it happened.” Was all the admiral said with a tired sigh as he adjusted his robe to wrap more tightly around him.

Sheeka coughed into her hand.

“That didn’t answer the question.” She stated in our typical rough voice. A painful necessity when in large group discussions.

The admiral merely shrugged.

“How do you expect half-dead people from an icy wasteland to react to full meals, hot baths, and soft beds? The houses between our two main districts probably have more tears in the streets than snow now.”

Despite the apparent wear on his body, a smile stole over his face of almost white fur. Kantor wasn’t as willing to meander in good feelings as he leaned forward onto the table.

“What about the captains? Will they be up to the task of working our ships?”

Joeseen gave a firm nod.

“It takes more skill to get a pile of junk into port than it does a work of art. They’ll be more than up to the task once they get used to the water boosters.”

Kantor pulled back, seemingly satisfied.

“Have you sent out the ships to retrieve the rest of the survivors?” I asked him.

He gave me another nod.

“They’ve since left with a crew comprised of our people and two of the captains acting as crew.”

I felt myself straighten a bit, getting faint ghost sensations of the aches on the return trip.

“Some left just after arriving?” I asked with a pull back into my chair.

Joeseen only shrugged.

“People have no scales or gills. That doesn’t mean some are destined to live on land. Of those who aren’t, I can’t say much would have deterred them from getting a ride on a ship that cares not what the wind does or where. They were just a few of the volunteers.”

“And will we have enough to get their cargo well-fed when they come back?” I asked with a turn to Sheeka.

She bit her lips, pulling her creamy brown fur.

“With what the fishing ships bring in, regular food won’t be a problem. I have to say I don’t feel like we’ll have a good grasp on the full scope of our harvest until we’ve had it. Will I be assuming responsibility for the food stocks? I thought I would be handling tanners, tailors, and the like. Can’t say I’ve had even a day working soil.”

“None of us do,” Menkie offered with a shake of his head, ridding himself of the last few ashes. “But we can at least expand the farms with stocks of plant crafts. Ores and coal? We don’t have the means to get that out here. Not without taking almost all the food growing enchantments for wood.”

Joeseen raised an eyebrow at the blacksmith made overseer.

“We have fire magic. What do we need coal for?”

Menkie took a deep breath before he looked at the admiral beside him.

“The ore itself isn’t… that’s not how steel is made.” He replied with a restrained smile.

The older man crossed his arms in thought before turning back to those present.

“We’ll have to trade it then. I’d imagine some of those magical meats will fetch a great price.”

“No.” I rejected in as severe a tone as I could manage. That got a few raised eyebrows, forcing me to explain.

“My people’s exile from this land started from human mages attacking their hold for mana-infused meats. We are far more fortified, but I’d rather avoid that track of history entirely.”

The three newest members of the council furrowed their eyebrows at this piece of news. Sheeka, being the most curious, spoke her question.

“I thought the magical resources were mostly the crafts and the mages themselves.”

“Yes and no.” I refuted with a raised finger to my immediate right. “Crafts are valuable. The meats and vegetables are what give us our ability. They are what mages live, and occasionally, die for. You do remember how you got your earth magic, correct?”

“I do.” Sheeka offered with a sideways head bob like she just remembered, “It was the soups and steaks.”

A scream of frustration tried to work its way up my throat.

“So you do understand why we absolutely cannot be giving the impression that we are so loaded down with such food that we’ll accept ores for them. That WILL get us killed.”

They looked between each other, with even Kantor looking a little dubious as he spoke up.

“This place is a fortress surrounded by murderous creatures and its only entrance is locked down tighter than a chief’s beloved daughter. Could we not dissuade them with more defenses?”

I considered what flowery language I could use to convey my thoughts, but nothing seemed as exaggerated as the simple truth.

“Do you have any notion of how much the meals Cell has been hunting for us are worth?”

Another round of uncertain looks. Sheeka was the one who leaned forward with a wild guess.

“A few hundred gold, I’d imagine.”

The admiral and smith looked uncertain at that, their doubt seemingly due to thinking the amount too large.

“A few hundred gold?” I asked her back, making sure to wave my hands back and forth to emphasize my points. “We sold troll meat that, if memory serves well, went for a few or so gold. That had no magical effects when cut or special colorings. The higher tier of meats back in the Coalition had subtle off-colors or bare hints of flavors suggesting its elements. My inquiry into those suggests prices starting at seventy gold coins depending on weight and freshness.”

Their eyes were all wide now, but not enough to meet my satisfaction.

“The food we’ve been eating would go far, far beyond that. We’re talking about ships filled with gold coins up to the ceiling. The kind of wealth that makes or breaks the budgets of nations. An unfathomable amount of treasure that mages the world over would throw any number of bodies at to obtain.”

That did it. The group pulled back in their chairs.

“Wait,” Joeseen said to no one in particular. “So, the breakfast I ate this morning was worth more than every silver I’ve ever made?”

I shrugged to him.

“There’s always sentimental value.”

“PFF,” Was all he had to say to my charity. They all looked a little lost at that, leaving me to get the meeting back on track.

“But we still have regular food for trade. The human region is too chaotic right now and it is the Kelton clans that I want to establish a more… friendly relationship with. For that, we will need to decide who to do business with first.”

Joeseen leaned forward at that. Kantor followed it up with a stretch across the table. As the two most well-traveled in the Kelton lands, they were the biggest contributors to this section. Something Kantor was content to start.

“The pirates are the biggest part of that. I assume we don’t want to let the clans lead us about by the nose.”

My firm nod prompted him to continue.

“Then seeing to the pirates will help two-fold. It will show strength. More importantly, it will place the idea in their minds that we are the replacement for the Messineens in the political dance. How much have you been told about the politics of these lands?”

I pondered that scant part of my mind.

“We were a mage clan. The human mages came and then we weren’t. Some suspicions of the other clans being involved but nothing besides that.”

All four of them got grim expressions.

“More than some suspicion. It’s a stated fact that the Messineens clan was behind it. Their lord was said to have gloated over it for years. After it was clear you had gone and would not be coming back, it became a folksy legend for the wider clan. With them becoming the southern-most hold, all the trade from beyond our lands flowed into their treasury giving them their exalted position.”

Some part of me was furious, another part was fascinated. The cold interest of a scholar studying the past clashing with the injustice of it all.

“But they’re gone now. Much like your clan, they put too much of their strength in a single hold and they’ll have to scratch out an existence under others. More importantly, they aren’t going to be around to keep the clans in check.”

I gave him an expectant look, but Kantor took his turn to step in with a deep breath.

“The Keersee and Heesan hate each other. Their reasons are… everything. I’m sure at some point someone shagged someone they shouldn’t or one brother broke another’s toy. Whatever started it, the grievance blossomed into an ever-growing list of misdeeds and injustices.

This wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t for the fact that they’re the two most powerful clans. Each has a vast retinue of subclans, extended families, and vassals. All of which can only claim the achievement of being able to live on their own.”

“A not insignificant feat,” Joeseen put in with the fingers of his right hand strumming on the table. He had an agitated air about him, his left hand gripping his chair arm.

Kantor nodded his head in begrudging respect.

“Indeed.” He offered before continuing. “Messineen was the deciding factor in their feud. No one could definitively say which of the three was the strongest, but they were a constant threat that could swallow up the other two if they weakened each other. A counter-balance now gone.”

“Which would we be better off with?” I asked the two men.

They looked at each other, the lack of an immediate answer foretelling a long conversation.

“I don’t think we should pick a side.” Kantor finally said. “But if we did… The Keersee are good fighters. The Heesan have the best ore deposits, which is the only thing we really need. Your former slaves probably won’t be too happy with-“

“Excuse me?” I demanded pulling my head straight up, physically feeling my pulse quicken as I did so.

Kantor drew his head back in surprise, leaning back into his chair while the others looked on confused.

“You said your people passed on their history.” He said with a quiet inflection.

“They never mentioned us having slaves. Did you never think to bring this to my attention?” I demanded with the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“What?” Sheeka butted in a casual shrug, “That the mage clan used the Heesan for baiting monsters and pot cleaning? At least they’re still around. Some of Kreshton’s enemy clans only have stories surviving them.”

“Not even the children?” I asked with a numb feeling in my stomach.

Sheeka seemd to get how disturbed I was with that question, sitting up straighter with a bit lip that she seemed to regret using so flippantly. I looked down at the table, trying to keep myself from saying anything as I went over the stories of my people's past.

Yeah, the poor downtrodden mage clan. The victims of treacherous outsiders who would obviously have no cause to mean them harm save wanton greed. Thinking about my ancestor's decision to mostly abandon the past, it seemed rather obvious that it was partly motivated to hide misdeeds as much as it was to assimilate into the new culture.

“They didn’t make them slaves,” Joeseen offered, clearly trying to help. “It was the Keersee who put the collars on them.”

Kantor knew enough to keep his gaze on me with no pretension of trying to soften the blow.

“It’s the past, Salamede.” He offered with no emotion.

“The past we’re trying to resurrect.” I corrected, not exactly sure what I was feeling.

“To keep the present alive.” He interjected with a raised chin. “We need magic to do it and your clan is the only explanation we have for that means. Tell me, why are we here?”

I rolled my eyes.

“So that Eli-“

“No.” Kantor cut back in. “Why are we Kelton stuck up here? Did your ancestors bring that tale with them?”

I rolled my eyes again.

“It’s a child’s story. Lady Summer brought us here through the wilds. Filling our noses with springs’ fragrance, she took us through the horrors of the world, molding the woods around us with an army of women to guide us to the only place we wouldn’t be instantly killed. A story told to youngling going to bed alongside the four-eyed troll of the seas and the Krinklesaut, who snatches those who don’t properly wash their teeth.”

“Yes,” Kantor countered, “But the first is true in one aspect. We have nowhere else to call ours. Some refugees scraping by in the south and a few hundred far off to the east are all our kind have outside these cold lands. This is our home.”

I followed his finger as it pointed down.

“The only home that is ours first and foremost.

And it is shit.

Kindness and compassion get you shanked. We can’t get enough food for everyone, leading to people like me being exiled just to keep the population from starving. I have no idea if your husband will succeed or not, but his work has given us the only place our kind has that is even worth calling a city.

Your people weren’t any worse than any of the others. The reason they had slaves is because they were the only clan in our history that had enough space to house people who hated them. Ask the wastelanders who, desperate for any kind of food, dared set foot on Heesan lands. Ask their corpses if pleas of ignorance have ever saved them from a slit throat.”

“And we were the ones who had the resources to do better.” I countered, feeling very odd at having to be the prosecutor of my people.

A dead silence fell over the room. It was an awkward thing that continued until Joeseen coughed.

“May I be bold, Lady Salamede?” The admiral put in.

I nodded, in the human fashion that they all knew I preferred.

“What I think Kantor is trying to get at is this place,” He emphasized with a wide spread of his arms, “Has the potential to be greater than any other dwelling we’ve ever had. And as petty as our fellow Keltons’ squabbles of the past are, you have some involvement in them.

The Heesan were victims of your clan’s cruelty. As were many who dared look upon those of magical blood with anything less than their due, looks often answered with cruelty extended by the inventiveness of their magical ability. But were the Kreshton clan more cruel than the cousin of the Heesan chief who had one lad not seven winters old drowned because of an infatuation with his daughter?

A good brother consumed by the heads of the clan like so many.

The people leading these lands are petty, selfish, and totally unworthy of any sympathy you’re feeling. Whatever troll shit the Heesan spew, do not forget for a second that any injustice they’ve suffered from the Kreshton and Keersee clans, they have inflicted on outcasts like us tenfold. Favoring one of the clans over the other due to guilt over past wrongs, or condemning another over involvement in such a past, would only serve to undermine the future that we could build here.”

After the initial bristling wore off, I could see some wisdom in their words even with the obvious bias they had. That didn’t do much to change how I felt. Perhaps, if I truly wanted to change things here for the better, it shouldn’t.

“We had better start this dance off on the right foot then,” I said to the group, straightening up in my chair with each word. “Any idea on what to do with the pirates? I was thinking of contacting the humans for support or advice.”

The immediate headshakes killed the idea.

“This first move will set the tone for how the other clans will see us.” Sheeka put in with a forward press into the table. “If we can cauterize this wound ourselves, it will put us on a strong footing. Going to the humans will give us a beggar’s look. Trying to solve the problem with the clans will give the impression that they are on an equal footing to us.”

Kantor coughed to draw attention to him.

“Even taking the first step of contacting them to deal with it could lead us to take a side. I’d imagine the Keersee would be more friendly towards their old business partners. They’d almost certainly accept working with us to kick the pirates out before the Heesan did and that would probably put off their rival.

In such a situation, not explicitly taking their side in the future would discard any previous goodwill from the victory. The worst interpretation of such ingratitude would be that neither side can rely on us for a stable relationship. I can’t see any winning play to bringing the clans in this early.”

“Fine,” I conceded. “But I’m not up for a battle in the hold. Even with all of our advantages, we’d lose people.”

“That’s going to happen at some point.” Kantor put in.

“But I don’t think we need to start trading bodies yet.” Joeseen offered the table. “Taking out their ships will damn them to starvation if we can keep any more from coming through. Which sounds entirely possible after the failed attack on Crasden. I don’t know how good the shipyards of the Misty Island are, but I doubt they can just shrug off so many ships being consigned to oblivion all at once.”

I sat there waiting for some objection. When none came, I offered mine.

“That is still a hard battle.”

“Not as hard as a slog through the streets.” He replied with a shrug.

“Could we have Cell come and destroy them?” Menkie suggested.

“No.” I refused with a firm lip. “There’s too much risk he’ll do something that our magic can’t explain. Especially since we only have a metal mage for a dual element and I, as leader, won’t be in the battle. And, honestly, this is a Kelton affair. My husband would never refuse a request for help, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let us ride his back forever.”

They all nodded in agreement at the last part.

“Would we win in a straight engagement?” Menkie asked the group.

Joeseen was eager to answer as he folded his arms together.

“I’d imagine we’d win any single fight with magic alone. A prolonged war? I doubt we have the numbers.”

“We don’t need to fight them at sea,” Sheeka declared, leaning forward. “We just need to hit them at port.”

Joeseen leaned back with a patient smile.

“It will be at sea when they spot us over the horizon. Taking a ship to the coast in the dead of night is a horrible idea, especially if you’ve never been there before. Not to mention that there are three ships.”

The woman shook her head.

“No, we just need to get them before they board their ships.”

Joeseen wasn’t the only one staring at her now, but he was the one who responded.

“Do…Our docks are pretty standard, Sheeka. How far do you think the other clans have their piers out to sea?”

“Not that way.” She dismissed with a handwave making her leather cap shift. “We have teams working stone molding enchantments underwater. Those air-breathing helmets could let us approach from beneath the waves.”

We all turned to the blacksmith, who had been working with the builders the most in a manner that spoke of the need for more council positions.

“It could work, as I’d imagine the air tunnels to the surface wouldn’t be noticed among the waves. They have to use a special cloth tube when they go deep, but not at the depths they’ll be at for this. Construction workers aren’t fighters, however.”

“No fighting. Just use disposable crafts.” I proclaimed to the group. “Eli did something similar to bandit camps, though it was through the trees. Could the workers chuck stone spheres onto the ship from the water?”

I got a nod from Joeseen, but Menkie had some concerns.

“The men need some practice with the watercrafts while being loaded down but they’ve done a good job so far. Shouldn’t take more than a day. Once the ships and docks are burned, could I assume we’ll crush the rest of the place with catapults?”

We all nodded at that.

“As long as there are no survivors of the original clan. If there are… we’ll leave it to the commanders’ discretion on how to handle it.” I said. Kantor, the one who had lived as a courier/mercenary, would be overseeing the operation.

The rest of the meeting passed in sheets of figures corresponding to ingots, clothes, and every item of civilization imaginable. A merciful end finally came after midday, with us shuffling out of the room having the tired aspect of farm hands coming from a long day in the field. My fellow council members all had things that needed tending to, either by their magic or skills.

I couldn’t claim to have too many of the latter in any realm that a leader of a clan should have. That left me to go out into the dark city with a metal lamp. Coming through the hall’s doors, I pushed the right spot on the mana lamp in the case. Golden rays pushed back the clawing shadows to reveal the red stone floor with flecks of grey and seemingly nothing beyond. It was a particularly dark afternoon, something the men helped remedy by readying their own lamps.

Even with that, it took a few seconds of walking by only memory before some grey corners of buildings came into view. My trip took only a minute more before I arrived in front of the double doors of our workshop for the men’s uniforms. When the guards opened them, a blast of gold rays shined from within. Most of the view inside was roll after roll of white plant fibers wrapped around wooden poles.

The noise from within told of toil. My shoes clacked on the floor as I walked through and took a left on the wooden floor. Five rows of desks lay in front of me under the gaze of mana lamps above. At each was a woman working a roll of cloth into one article of clothing or another. The blades and needles were being paid special attention to by a younger member trying to learn the trade.

Most were children belonging to a parent that had called the base home at some point, though here and there was one of a frame far too thin to have spent any amount of time with us. The newly arrived orphans seemed the most eager to learn, either for the security such skills provided or because they were on a food high from their first proper meal in spirits know how long.

My desk was directly ahead with a clear path to it. The thing had the same dark oak as the others, with the defining feature being the fact that stacks of collars were piled on its right corner. That was the part that would heal neck wounds and if it was shredded, then that probably meant there wasn’t a head left to heal. A few tailors looked at me with my walk by, but none for more than a second as I placed myself into the chair.

Long hours were spent on that wooden throne. The crafts weren’t complicated, a simple square, mana battery, and output triangle for raw healing directed at the neck. Getting the square on the outer edge of the collar’s neck portion and connecting it with the inner emitter also took some doing as the collars didn’t have the exact same measurements.

Working magic for hours was as exhausting as cleaning any room. If the girl I was in my teen years knew that I would be a mage in the future and most of it involved meetings and squatting with tailors, the poor thing would have never recovered. When I got the fifteen collar quota for the day met, I left the room with a silent exit.

The next day was spent doing more collars for the troops then inspecting various quarters and their production. In the back center of our city were two long rectangular buildings with glass tops and mana lamps between their steel supports. Fields of wheat grew on long stone slabs filled with rich soil, though it was the plant enchantments beneath that deserved most of the credit. The next rotation would be flax, then beans. It was a far more involved process than any of us expected even with the base's own farms acting as a guide. Something that clearly needed a dedicated council seat. We’d probably mix it in with the overseeing of fishing.

My visit to the right side of town took me to the forges and coke ovens. I felt a bit pretentious calling three furnaces and an anvil forges, but this involved magic so there was no real limit to the gaudiness allowed. The three domes sat in a semi-open building with wide sides where the fires were being worked in the open air. Inside these were mana crystals belching wide streams of flame. Menkie was working with some apprentices, mixing the flames of mana crystal with bits of coke.

We could have all the heat we needed, but doing that while efficiently managing our mana demanded some of the more mundane means of making fire. A mix that would take some experimenting to perfect. Off to the left was our resident metal mage working his element on a bench similar to the tailors.

He was a thinner thing in his late teens, with a brown fur that matched his spiral horns. Unlike his fellows in thick leather aprons, he had a simple coat over his white shirt and grey pants. He needed the free movement to work those irksome joints and interlocking pieces with his crafts. What would have taken days of detail work for a regular smith took his magic a few hours.

It was nice to have some metalworking ability for our city, but his presence reminded me of how rare our kind was. A hundred and seventy-some of our people had gotten to caster status with our extravagant meals. The rest were stuck in crafter, but that made little difference as long as they could see mana. Out of all those, me and him were the only dual elements.

From what I remembered of the Diamond Academy ratios, Jeff not included since he came from elsewhere, that seemed to be a rather generous proportion. That still didn’t make it less jarring to see firsthand how rare it was out of nearly two hundred people. And I was pretty sure my status wasn’t the random chance it was for him. The thought that my diet of Eli’s… resources had given me better chances was a rather loud possibility.

Not that testing it out was ever going to happen.

I went about the regular reports from Menkie. Good progress all around. They found it rather irritating that we were now strictly guarding access to the forges, but there was no helping it. Having some of our new arrivals ask why the lost civilization was still figuring out its recipes would raise too many questions.

I moved about getting my meals and seeing to the sprawl of tasks before retreating to my private hole. When it was late afternoon, Kantor found me at my desk. He was clad in full armor, but despite his knightly appearance he still had that walk and discipline between soldier and thug.

‘We’re ready to shove off. The men insisted on me thanking you for the healing collars.’ He offered in a spirit connection.

‘And we’ve done all we can to mitigate losses?’ I asked him with a lean back into my chair.

‘Thrice over. The men are getting on-demand healing and some extra healing crafts on the ship in case those fail. The workers have had no trouble doing the proper tosses and working the fire crafts. There is nothing left but to follow through.’ He replied in a firm tone, leaving no argument to be had.

‘Then do it.’ I replied with a note of finality.

The man knew that sending people into danger wasn’t an easy thing for me. But it had to happen all the same and I couldn’t always be there to make sure it went smoothly. It was something he knew would bother me no matter what was said, so he left immediately with a bow and turned to walk out the door.

Instead of sitting around worrying like a mother with her son going on his first hunt, I did a few more collars. Eventually, the spiderweb of pain came as it always did and I had to stop. The world had so many flavors of worry. Worry over friends risking their lives, husbands going into battle, food stocks, sending people to their deaths, and on, and on. A diverse serving of anxiety that I felt I had sampled from one end to another. It filled me even as I tucked into bed.

When a knock came at the door, I instantly knew what it was for.

“Let me get ready!” I called back.

A push on the mana lamp above my bed illuminated the room and, most importantly, the wardrobe. The green dress was thrown on again. I moved towards the door, my body telling me it was too late to be doing this but the buzz of anticipation and dread overrode any sluggishness.

Opening the entrance to my office, I found Kantor in front of my desk. The relaxed shoulders and small smile quelled the churning in my gut.

‘How did it go?’ I asked in a spirit connection as I moved to the desk, an ember of hope in my chest that I dared not feed.

‘Better than expected.’ He declared with a full smile, pulling off his helmet to hold in his right arm. ‘The ports and ships are ash and we pummeled most of the offenders into mush. Even got some people I think are worth trading. Or gifting to the humans.’

‘Any casualties?’ I asked with some trepidation.

Kantor huffed like he was explaining something to a demanding daughter.

‘No, those babies got through it just fine. Between the fire crafts and catapults, the pirates only got a few volleys of arrows off. A lad took one in the shoulder. Barely had a moment of discomfort thanks to our healing collars before it was patched up. Try to enjoy the victories, Salamede. We may not always win or with so little blood.’

I only nodded, too happy to let the warning soak in. With the potential crisis over, tiredness started clawing its way back into my bones.

‘Anything else?’ I asked, feeling the call of my warm sheets.

‘The Messineens’ clan. Their chief is dead, but his surviving widow, son, and grandfather were kept alive along with about thirty other assorted citizens. I’d imagine the pirates would have killed them all off eventually, but that postponed decision has found its way to us. I had them all moved in with the rest of the refugees. An increase of guards took some doing but everyone got settled in.’

I could guess what that would be needed for.

‘Do we have troublemakers in the lot? I can’t imagine the former clan members felt very relieved when they realized who saved them.’

A small laugh from the black-furred man reverberated around the room.

‘I’ll remember their faces till my dying day. But it was the humans who tested things first. We had one of the pirates try to make a move. Not fast enough to stop one of us from crushing him into a paste with a block of magical stone. The prisoner’s haven’t seen how we got here, in case you’re worried.

The surviving clan members have been saved by a legend that’s come back from the dead. Only, unlike those shuffling about in some of the northern outposts, we remember their people’s past actions. They’re scared but compliant. Especially when they realized almost all of our guards are mages.’

‘Good. Let’s-‘

‘Go back to sleep.’ Kantor only half suggested.

I shrugged as part of me agreed.

‘I’m already up. Might as well see what bits I can see to.’

He placed the helmet back on his head.

‘Conducting diplomacy while half-asleep seems like one of those ideas that is just bad all the way through. I only bothered you because you’d be surly about being left out come morning. Now that you know what happened, you can get a full night’s sleep.’

I had to admit I was at the age where going back to bed was no longer a punishment, especially this late.

‘Have the council get ready for tomorrow. Dealing with the survivors will be something we should decide on first thing tomorrow.’

He gave me a nod as we both left the room from opposite ends. It took only a moment to fall back asleep and it felt about as long to find myself awake again. A quick shower and dressing into the pink and teal dress that I had helped the refugees in took a few minutes. Breakfast was served in the conference room with all the council members wearing the same clothes as yesterday that became semiofficial uniforms for their positions.

On my right was a very tired Kantor, with an enthused Joeseen further down. Sheeka took up my left. Our master of the forges was a bit late, arriving at the further left seat as the rest of us were finishing our bowls of fish soup.

“I don’t want to keep our guests waiting. What should we do with them?” I announced to the group.

“We can’t keep them here,” Sheeka responded with certainty. “We’ll be quadrupling our number, at minimum, with the refugees from the wastes. Housing won’t be an issue, but everything else will be running at its limit. Taking on another two hundred or so with the ones in Crasden? We don’t have the means.”

Kantor, despite his lethargic demeanor, nodded in agreement.

“It’s not just the number of bodies. The refugees won’t dare risk so much as sneezing wrong if they think it could get them hoisted out of this little paradise. The Messineen clan? They have every reason to believe we have some points of revenge to settle. That might make them try to parse out how we survived their betrayal, or decide to try any number of things I will not have the guards to see to.”

Joeseen nodded to his fellow, leaning over the table in his blue robe with crude waves.

“Their former hold is also an issue. A spot that far south and still having its defenses against the surrounding woods… mostly intact would probably be snatched up by another clan in short order if left unattended. It’s ours for now by right of the victor. But we need to start putting men in if we want to have it firmly in hand.”

“No.” I flatly declared to the group, drawing all eyes to me. “That would be seen as far too aggressive.”

Menkie strolled his fingers on the table.

“That doesn’t feel very… clan-like. This is all a glorified charity, at the end of the day. But we still have to play the part demanded of us.”

Sheeka seemed a bit interested in that aspect of our charade.

“We’re a clan from long past. What would be our motivation in doing any of this if not expanding our reach?” She asked with a look around the table, flapping her leather cap as she did so. A look that Kantor leaned forward to meet.

“The story we agreed on was: We’re declining in numbers.” He punted to the group.

A round of nods went through the esteemed council as they remembered their life stories. Something Kantor emphasized with a pointed finger towards me.

“And you’re the upstart whelp with dangerous ideas. Wanting to refresh the bloodlines, greet the world, and such.”

“But I’m tragically infertile myself.”

“Yes.” Kantor agreed as he leaned back in his chair. “And we’re the elderly curs who just want to die out with the old ways.”

“Sounds right.” I agreed, to another series of head bobs.

“And what does such a group do next?”

“Compromise?” Joeseen mused. “Having the Messineen be our vassals would meet both our factions halfway.”

I pulled back in my chair, thinking over the proposition while Menkie stroked his goatee with his question.

“Could they even recover enough to serve as a vassal?”

“Rebuilding the place?” Kantor responded “Not happening. After we restore it with stone? Yeah, they would have enough people to run the harbor. They’d probably end up taking a lot of strays in with all the available space. They might even be better than before depending on how well we do the restoration.”

Menkie seemed the most enthused as he leaned across the table, pushing aside his bowl and mug as he did so.

“The masons are idle right now. If we want any more houses built here, we’ll have to build out the stone base more. I want to say it would take a few months before anything else could be added here.”

Eli had been the one to design my current residence due to the need for eye-catching extravagance. Houses, piers, and walls, however, were well within the ability of the few builders that tagged along.

“There could be other benefits beyond a show of benevolence.” Joeseen offered with a rub of his robe. “We could use them as a halfway point. Any goods for us or requests for entry could be handled at their hold. Diplomatic visits could skip the line by coming to us directly, but besides that, we could have our ships take the goods here instead of random traders. It would make the chaos in the port a lot more manageable, not to mention security.”

“That seems like a lot of work,” Sheeka said, sounding tired at the prospective work already. “Taking it off ships and putting them back on only to have to offload them again sounds like a lot of work for nothing.”

“Ah!” I butted in with a raised finger. “But you wouldn’t care about that. I can see the problem, but you lot still twisted my arm to make it happen so we wouldn’t have so many of the dross about. Not to mention the offense of those magicless curs thinking they’re worthy of coming to our grand island of their discretion.”

Remembering her bigotry, the woman nodded in agreement before gulping down the last of her soup.

“So,” Joeseen said with some aplomb, “Who’s going to be the one having a fit about helping them? It can’t be me, I’ve already dealt with the refugees, who, I might add, were very taken with my usual charm.”

“I could another time,” Kantor said. “But I’m too tired to be appropriately bitter right now.”

“For this round,” Sheeka offered, “I can do it. Maybe Menkie will take the next forum discussion.”

“I’ll offer a few words of… discouragement if the need arises. But, yeah, I’ll be the main baddie for the next public meeting.”

“Well, I’m ready to go,” I announced to the group.

One last round of nods went around the table. Our meeting finished, we got up from the seats. Making our way into the main forum with its stone benches, I found a long couch of fluffy white fur near the door to my room. It was splayed out like an oyster half-shell, perfect for lounging or sitting straight up. It wasn’t the grand majesty of a throne on high, but I was going to be doing a lot of business here in the future and I would do a lot for my people, the mission, and my husband’s vision. Putting my butt through that agony wasn’t one of them. Besides, the dome was already thrice as intimidating as anything the other clans could build.

We took up our positions, with Kantor on my left and Joeseen past him. They were each given a tall chair of red stone flecked with grey, engraved in golden leaves, and a sun on the headboard. Sheeka eventually took up my right with Menkie beyond when their chairs arrived. The whole stage was lit up with the golden glow of mana lamps dotting the walls. Our little charade was now ready to begin. Taking one last breath, I nodded to the fully armored guard near the main door.

The hulking mass of steel pushed the door open to a gust of chill wind. He braved winter’s bite, heading through the door and returning a few minutes later with the closest thing to leaders the Messineen had left. A grandfatherly figure, using his cane to move through the door. His unsteady walk left his slightly torn blue robe swaying around his large brown horns that matched the bits of fur yet to grey.

Behind him came two others. A mid-30s woman with grey fur and stubby brown horns. Her green dress had similar wear to the older man, though the boy barely out of his toddler years clutching her knees probably didn’t help. The lad was a smaller version of her in all features save his sex and well-fed frame. He was just about the cutest thing I had seen here or in the Coalition with big cheeks that called out for pinching. The fact his blue shirt and brown pants were almost untouched left me impressed with the mother, despite how passive I kept my face.

The mother and son stopped almost immediately when their eyes stopped staring at the ceiling long enough to see us. A gulp from the man was all that could be heard for a moment as they stood still. Fear was barely hidden on the mother’s face, though she kept it in check for her child. The boy didn’t bother noticing us, instead, his white eyes continued taking in the sheer size of the room. No one moved for a moment until I realized they were waiting for some kind of indication of what they should be doing.

“Step on the golden circle, if you would,” I announced with a voice that carried in the silent forum a bit louder than I intended.

The man moved forward with as much grace as age would grant. His female companion followed while making sure to keep behind him. Her child seemed to just notice us, taking us in and standing still when they arrived at the golden circle.

“How have you found things?” I asked him in an even voice.

The man's jaw quivered for a moment, but he seemed to have some experience in diplomacy as he quickly recovered.

“Tremendous, great lady. I might compare what I’ve seen to our meager attempts, but I would not insult your achievements by making any such equivalence.”

I allowed myself a small smile.

“You speak well for someone so nervous. A chair.” I declared to one of the guards who promptly went to the meeting room to fetch one.

The elder seemed torn between refusing and listening to what had to be screaming knees. Any choice he had vanished when the steel-clad guard delivered the item in question. He had a moment to take in the mountain of shining steel setting the chair down, noting the intricacies of the engravings on the steel plates. The boy seemed pretty enthused about being that close to all that shiny metal, even looking behind his mother at the retreating soldier.

“Many more thanks,” The older man offered as he settled in with his cane over his knees.

“My name is Passmede,” I stated in a friendly tone. “Now that I’ve given my name, would you give me yours?”

“Hentor, if it pleases you.” He offered back.

“Can I assume some relation to the former chief, Hentor? I was told the leadership of the remaining Messineen clan isn’t a very straightforward thing.”

“Yes.” He agreed with that sideways head bob. “I was his father. Behind me is my son’s widow, his fifth wife, and accompanying her is his last surviving heir.”

The boy’s protruding cheeks wobbled with his sideways head bob.

“Heir?” I asked.

“In many ways, yes.” The old man conceded, “We’re the last of our clan's ruling family. Once he’s of age, the lad will have to decide how much he wants to fight for the seat or corral supporters into letting him have it. Until that day, I will be overseeing things for as long as this body holds out.”

I strummed my fingers on a pillow, thinking it over.

“Should I assume that the issue of leadership will be settled for the foreseeable future then?”

“If I should be taken before the lad makes his decision, then the heads of the three biggest families left will form a council. Our lands are harsh and we know well the danger of staking too much on one person.”

Kantor decided to butt in with a cough.

“If you’re going to keep the clan together, I can’t imagine you’d move anywhere but your hold.”

The older man gripped his cane. Despite that, he released a held breath.

“We lack the means to rebuild our old home by ourselves, your greatness. Lord Kantor told us a good number of our people fled to the human city in the south. People we obviously have no means to retrieve. Perhaps an arrangement could be made? The other clans have no debt to you and we will make sure ours is repaid.” Hentor almost bit his tongue at the last, like he was pushing his nerves to their breaking.

Sheeka chose that moment to make her position known.

“Oh, the Messineen definitely have debts to us that need repaying.” She stated with narrowed eyes and cold fury brimming in her voice.

The old man had a bit of sweat drip down his snout at that. The woman grew tense, pushing her charge against her legs while she looked back towards the closed exit. After a second, Hentor finally got his tongue moving.

“So, you are that clan?” He said, sounding like he was asking a wolf if it was hungry.

“Kreshton. Correct.” I responded.

He looked down as he vacated the chair. His hands moved across the floor as he got on the floor and placed his forehead against its stone.

“I only ask that you let our mothers and their children go to meet up with the survivors. The rest of us will perform any labor needed for that older debt.”

Sheeka lived up to her fiction standing straight up from her seat, eyes wide and snout flaring. That left me to prepare an air spell as she moved.

“Do you think there is any amount of labor scum like you could perform that would-“

*BANG*

The scream of wind drew everyone to me, even the man on his knees.

“Sheeka,” I said with the patience of a tired mother. “Do you speak for the clan?”

She took a deep breath, meeting my gaze for a moment. I summoned long shafts of water around me before molding them into crude blades. Six swords of shimmering liquid danced around my head even as they pointed to the upstart council member.

“No.” Sheeka finally admitted.

“And do we need to reaffirm the reasons why I sit here and you there?” I asked.

“No.” She said, getting back into her chair with a clenched jaw.

“Good!” I proclaimed with some cheer as the water around me disappeared. “Hentor. Whatever past action taken by your clan was done on the orders of people long dead. You may return to your seat.”

He did so with a pulling of his robes. The look of coming vomit was no longer on his face, but when he got comfortable in the chair, I could see his knuckles going white from gripping his cane.

“The scale of such a commitment doesn’t allow for half measures.” I continued in a friendly tone. “As things are, if we retrieve your people from the south right now, they’ll starve to death in short order. Between rebuilding everything, maintaining the defenses, and getting daily needs met, I wouldn’t say your people can survive on their own. Would you care to be put under our auspices?”

It was the politest way I could think of to offer vassalage. Hentor seemed to appreciate the tone though he had some concerns.

“What would entail such servitude? I’m not in a position to refuse, but there are certain obligations we simply can’t meet for the foreseeable future. Almost all of our fighters were killed along with our crafter.”

“Nothing unexpected.” I calmly refuted. “We need people who know the trade of the north and south. Our clan can remake the foundation and buildings, this time with more defenses and a mage to oversee the mana side of things. Councilor Joeseen will discuss our needs with you in detail, but the main items are acting as a checkpoint for anyone wishing to visit and a stop-off for any goods requested by us. Of course, we’ll be providing food until your harbor is bringing people in again.”

He bobbed his head sideways with enough eagerness to shake the neck of his robe.

“I’d imagine that they’ll be busier than ever before. We will make sure that your people’s generosity is known to any ear willing to hear. If I could be so bold as to suggest something, I should probably come with you to assure my fellow clanmen of the truth behind your arrival.”

The council looked at each other for a second before we all turned back to the guests, with Kantor, Menkie, and Sheeka sporting stiff frowns.

“An excellent idea. I think it is time to do rather than discuss doing.” I proclaimed, pulling up and out of my soft couch.

Hentor got off the chair with a slight wobble when his feet hit stone. Both he and the woman did a deep sideways head bob, something the boy attempted but nearly toppled as he put a bit too much force into the motion. The mother recovered his balance for him before turning him around to leave. When they got close enough to the door for a guard to open it, all three drew back at the sudden cold of winter for a moment until they finally pushed forward. As the door finally closed with a smack, a few sighs of relief went through the ‘venerable’ mage council.

“I have to say Sheeka,” Kantor said with a smirk over the ever-present sound of wind. “I didn’t really feel that scathing bite bigotry usually has. It was more like… being aggressively annoyed.”

“Come on,” She huffed back with a twist of her light brown and cream dress as she left her seat, “That pup was too adorable for me to go far with it. I do hope he doesn’t think too ill of me.”

“He was damn cute.” I agreed with a stretch of my arms.

The council promptly disbanded to see to their daily toils as I retreated to my office. It was a few more hours of busy paperwork before Kantor came back with a knock.

“We’re all ready. The masons are heading out to restore the hold. We just need to bring two ships and I assume our leader to negotiate.”

I forgot to mention my intention to go in person. It was nice to have some people who knew enough about me to already know what I wanted without saying it.

“I’ll get ready.”

When he left my office, I sprinted back to my room and brought out my best piece of fashion. A long dress of light green with blue trim. At the neck were gold triangles radiating out from the hole. Brushing up against gaudy, it was the tailor's best match to the cloth and paintings left behind by my ancestors in the now demolished tower.

My trip to the military portion of the harbor was bereft of chill winds, though the grey skies still smothered the sun. The big rectangles with a street between each numbered nearly seven with the newest getting its back end worked on. It was a bitter walk across the road from the civilian harbor, but it was at least done with the company of guards and sailors. We were bringing two ships this time, with only the Interceptor hiding in the clouds above keeping watch. I was told over the radio box that the next airship was due in a week or so. Behind schedule, but still moving towards the end.

Two wide doors like those of a barn made up most of the backside of the enclosed harbors. Around the sides of the doors were bits of bare stone showing where the building's inner heat had melted some of the snow still sprinkled around. My retinue of steel-clad men moved to open the doors and help move along a small hiccup in traffic as carts of food were being onboarded to the ship within.

Inside was a stone dock wrapped around the wall save the back. At the center was another example of our ships. The long half-oval of wood was facing landward with its sails furled. A long loading plank was placed on the left side as workers loaded sacks and crates. I patiently waited for my turn, something made far easier with the wooden boards that made up the floor and their fire enchantments spewing heat.

In due time all the cargo, myself included, was brought aboard. Hentor had apparently long since arrived below deck, too afraid of any delay to his arrival. When I sat in the chair of my impromptu office, I felt a pull of motion come over my body. Opening the curtains revealed the water-facing stone slab had been pulled back and we were pulling out of the harbor with the front-facing water boosters. It occurred to me then that we would need to get some pulley system designed by Eli or one of our architects, instead of relying on a stone mage to open the pier gate. When we stopped and I felt a pull backward, I let the cloth drapes fall. The next few hours were spent in the captains’ quarters, twiddling my thumbs. Paperwork was urgent, but I knew I’d be too nervous to do it on the trip.

“Lady?” A voice called.

I pulled myself up, getting out of the staring contest with my desk that I had slipped into. Ahead was one of the sailors ‘only’ clad in a steel breastplate and shin guards.

“There’s some fort in the harbor. Flagged us down to stop and identify ourselves. Kantor is showing them the prisoners, but he thought you should know.”

I nodded. Getting up, I looked for any creases or smirches on the green or blue of my clothes. The dress thus far had survived unscathed, but it took only one wrong move out of the door to ruin it. Satisfied, I abandoned my desk. Even as I approached the doorway, I could see one of the red-haired humans leaning over. When I came out onto the deck, my gaze immediately went to a huge, rectangular fort in the water directly in front of the ship.

Grey sky still chocked the sun, but there was still enough light to allow the guards manning the wall to see a tattoo in the form of a red crab on the pirate captain’s shoulder, the shirt of which Kantor was pulling down.

“Oh!” One of the men on top of the wall yelled. “Then… Your ship only. Pull into one of the center docks.”

Kantor nodded, handing off the prisoner to guards behind him. He then moved to come up beside me as another shadow. I was too busy taking in the city ahead. Along the left of the half-moon harbor was a wide array of warehouses in front of a harbor filled with ships. Near the center was a large three-story mansion with grey stone for a body and a tower out of the top. Between it and the warehouses were rather fantastical-looking stores, their front consisting of wide windowpanes placed in iron edges where stone arches or pillars didn’t support the floor above.

They matched the tower in the distant left, a square shaft of metal and glass a bit too far for me to make the details out of. I spared only a glance for the right side, where the military shipyard and mages quarter resided. Near the front of the harbor were specks of mana, though it wilted to almost nothing further along the main road leading into what I assumed to be the city center. However, as we approached an empty dock near the big mansion on nothing but wind power, a squad of their red-leathered guards came out from between a hull near completion.

‘I’ll see to it,’ Kantor told me in a spirit connection as he moved past me.

A simple nod and the men holding the rather irate pirate came up behind him. When the ship finally got into place with a pier on the right, the sailors placed a wide plank down for offboarding. Red-leathered men came up to the group as they left the ship. Kantor walked forward and seemed to be talking with them. I couldn’t hear from this distance and was content to remain in ignorance.

The prisoner was handed off to the humans while our people came back to the ship. As Kantor came up the plank, the mana around him started getting sucked towards the water. In the bay further to the right, a big shaft of sea shot into the air. I couldn’t see what was doing it until a big black otter came out of the tip of the spout. It seemed to glide in the air before landing back in the bay with a splash.

After a few minutes of looking over the waves, the creature never surfaced. Before I could turn my eyes back to the city, a loud whoosh of air filled my ears before I was drawn to a hard plunk on the pier. An air mage, if the way the wind was still whirling around her was anything to go by, stood just beyond our plank. A younger thing with black pigtails, her blue eyes surveyed us with curiosity. Brown and green leather armor covered her body though she rubbed her smooth cheekbones with her right hand in idle thought and scrunched her stubby chin in a very unprofessional manner.

“I’m Harrah.” She addressed the crowd. “Princess Palta should be down shortly, but I was permitted to run ahead. Something about you capturing a lot of pirates.”

Not the most official welcome, but I wasn’t going to start things off by acting aggrieved.

“Mostly high ranking ones at that, Harrah.” I called back over the crowd. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment, either measuring me or taking in my robes. Those blue pools then looked out over the ocean towards our second ship. “Two ships of prisoners? I didn’t know the pirates had enough power after the battle to give that many prisoners.”

“A quarter of one. The rest are supplies.” I offered as I stepped forward onto the plank. Her black eyebrows went up.

“I didn’t think you guys had much to give. At least not for free.”

“We are picking up the Messineen but these days the burden of refugees is not a light one, if indeed it ever is. These goods are compensation for the weight placed on you.” I motioned towards the men coming up the stairs of our ship with crates and sacks in hand.

A splash from the left drew everyone’s eyes. It was the otter again, only this time the gush of water pushed it up to the lip of the pier. I was a bit taken aback at the size of the creature, being closer to a horse than a cat. Several passing peasants pulled back at the huge otter’s breach onto land. Save one.

A woman with shoulder-length black hair strode forward in an equally black dress, set with a necklace of sapphires around the neck. Around her were several intimidating guards, dressed in steel and sporting helmets shaped into a lion’s head. Fine golden cloth was weaved on their arms and back, accentuating the embroidered metal beneath.

The woman had her thin nose flaring as she looked at the monster and rubbed her equally sharp chin. Green eyes suddenly went wide, her gaze flitting to us for but a moment. After a moment of staring at the creature, she straightened up and turned towards our pier. The guards moved up behind her as the Keltons bringing the goods on land stuck to a single file on the left. She moved with perfect posture, shoulders straight and head level until she arrived at our plank with the slightest nod I had ever seen.

“Greetings, esteemed guests.” The woman announced like she was preparing a great speech. “I am Palta. Firstborn of King Jeremy, Daughter of the Advisor and current Co-Queen of the Rodring Kingdom; Nestel. It must have been a long voyage here and a meal can soothe such aches. It is short notice, but I can attest to our royal chefs’ ability to rise to the occasion.”

Every human around her, including her guard, looked askance at such formality. It occurred to me that she must know how strong we really are. I couldn’t say how she knew, but her tight eyes said she did.

“Sadly, time, like too many things these days, is in short supply.” I kindly refused, the roughness of my voice now sounding very pronounced. Sadly, short of punching my throat in just the right way, there was nothing for it. “I will have to get the Messineen refugees back to their hold and part of that is introducing them to a trusted member of their clan.”

“Their hold? You mean the one the pirates took up north?” Harrah asked with a raised eyebrow. The humans all had a moment of skepticism, save for the princess.

“Yes,” I affirmed as I moved forward and down the plank. “This city is quite impressive. I’m sure the refugees will be loathe to leave but their home needs them for the rebuilding.”

Palta did another of those impossibly minute nods.

“I’m afraid their location is in a settlement connected to this one. Their ships, however, won’t… or rather can’t leave. The trip here destroyed their hulls and the remains were carried out to sea.”

I gave a small sigh. Turning around towards the left of the city, I strained my neck to see the walled-off path leading out over the stone fields towards three towers, one almost impossibly high and two others shorter yet wider, surrounded by a wall three floors high.

“That very one,” Palta said in a warm tone. “I know the man in charge of the place if you would like a quick introduction.”

I smiled with a look back at the princess.

“Your people’s generosity would shame all others. If we meet again, I will see the favor returned. Though, that does look like too long a walk for two hundred people. I assume he has a harbor.”

Palta bit her pink lips, her green eyes looking towards Eli’s domain.

“Possibly. The pirates hit us a few days past and I haven’t kept up on his repairs. Harrah, fly ahead and tell the plant mage Tilvor he has more Kelton guests coming.”

Her gaze moved to the friend on her left. There was clearly a spirit conversation going on if the inquisitive face Harrah wore was any indication. Eventually, the air mage went wide-eyed and a little pale, looking at the men dropping off goods further down the pier before nodding to the member of royalty. That was when the next load of cargo included prisoners. Men in rough clothes that still had the occasional flare of color here and there trudged down the plank with their hands tied. Harrah went further to the edge of the pier before constructing a large air spell and taking off in a blast of wind.

“May you live well,” I offered the princess with a polite nod.

“Likewise,” She accepted before turning away.

Sailors who finished their toil waited on the side for me to go up the plank, which I did with a bit more speed than I had gone down it despite the incline. When I made it up to the deck and moved to the side to get one last leisurely view of the city, the first thing I saw was Palta on the pier, still inspecting the ship with a certain intensity. A faint feeling of irritation came over me. I couldn’t see how she was aware of how dangerous we really were, but those green eyes showed a mix of worry and determination that left no doubt as to what she thought of the departing ship.

When the last man came aboard, the plank was raised, and sails were unfurled. A blast of water from the front of the ship made a few of the humans on the pier jump back, but the princess was unperturbed. Clear of the wooden finger in the ocean, our ship pulled away to sail past the fort in the sea. Our sister on the sea quickly followed behind.

I stood still on the side of the ship, taking in the salty sea air and chill of winter while the men prepared the boat on the side in case no pier was available. The rock-strewn coast moved by with the wall sporting the occasional archer blocking my view of the land proper. We couldn’t get too close, lest the ship suffer the same fate as the refugee’s transportation, yet that didn’t stop the huge tower from looming over us as we passed it. Nearing a bend, we arrived at what I assumed to be the harbor.

The whole thing looked like a single slab of grey stone in front of a portcullis in the wall. No single flight of stairs could be seen between the entrance to the settlement and the single pier of stone in the bay, instead, three steps were made with long spaces between the next set with only a few spots having a smooth ascending curve for carts. Attention was also paid to the opposite side of the harbor, with a floor of stone going from the soil into the water acting as an intrusion into the woods beyond.

‘Not a single spot to hide from arrows. The walls seem to be stuffed with ballistae and catapults.’ Kantor mused in a spirit connection on my left. ‘I almost feel bad for the poor souls that tried to take it.’

A simple nod was all I could give him. Eli was close now. My stomach was fluttering with a rising need in the blood. After all this time, my husband would finally be by my side again.

It was another long procedure of guards coming to see who just pulled into their pier, us dropping a plank down, and Kantor going to explain. Only this time Hentor came from below to accompany him. Minutes took on the aspect of hours as my ‘father’ seemed to be taking a slow stroll following the humans back to the gate. The years spent on the ship waiting for them to return seemed to stretch into decades as my fingers strummed the cold guardrail with patience that thinned by the second.

When the red leather of the human guard showed up beneath the harbor gate, I did my best not to let my eagerness show, but my left foot wouldn’t listen as it tapped on the floor. Then Eli finally pulled in front. He had grey hair and green eyes now, though everything else was the same as always, down to the preference for white shirts and brown pants. The same walk, the same analytical look at the ship, the same sense of safety when I knew he was near.

It was an odd feeling. Being a mage and constantly surrounded by guards, I couldn’t say I ever felt like I was in danger. That didn’t stop some new sense of protection coming over me. Eli was in eyesight, and my heart said all was good and right in the world. As he walked towards the ship, I had to keep myself from dashing down the plank and throwing myself into his arms.

“What I assume to be your courier came by with a proposal for some supplies,” Eli called over to us, trying to find the leader of the group as he came onto the pier.

“Yes.” I offered with a small smile. “Though the exchange would be our supplies for the refugees. That was our first proposal. Princess Palta said there was a plant mage here.”

Eli walked up to the plank on the stone pier with arms crossed.

“Well, here he is.”

“Excellent.” I declared with a nod. “We are interested in some crop-growing enchantments. Not as a matter of charity. Our magical elements could provide you with some utility. If they are not to your liking, we could work out something else.”

His strong chin curled as he considered it. The quad mage was getting better about walking around without face coverings. I knew him well enough that I could see his indications of discomfort, but it wasn’t the obvious wincing it had been in times past.

“They’ll have to be on square plates of wood. Unless I visit your abode, I can’t make them fit exactly wherever you’re putting them. And I mean no offense to you and yours, but a long trip under your care isn’t something I’m up for. You seem like a fine lot, but these days aren’t kind to trusting souls.”

I bit my lips in concentration. We were getting some time alone, what the rest of the world wanted or demanded would just have to for its turn.

“It will be a long time before the refugees will be ready,” I casually offered with a strum of my fingers on the icy wood. “And I know our farms well enough. Instead of trusting us, perhaps I should take the leap?”

He raised an eyebrow at the proposal. His grey hair turned as he went back and forth for a moment before nodding.

“I have a private house. A number of planks and some water for refreshments. I’ll warn you, getting the dimensions just right will require a lot of sweat and struggle. We could be there for an hour or more.”

“Yes.” I proclaimed, understanding his proposal in all its meanings. The guards tensed at that, on both sides. Though, mine never raised their shoulders, instead trying to give an irritated face that I was sure any human wouldn’t take for a counterfeit.

My walk down the plank was flanked by steel-clad Keltons. It took self-control not to make it a sprint, and more still when my hand instinctively wanted to thread through his arm. We walked side-by-side, moving towards the gate as all watched.

“Tilvor,” I asked politely with a turn to my husband-turned-stranger. “My voice is getting a bit tired with all this shouting from boats. Could we talk in a spirit connection?”

“Sure.”

It was the fastest connection I had ever made.

‘Spirits Eli, it’s wonderful seeing you again.’ I said into his mind.

‘Not as much as seeing you. God, it's awful not waking up with you and Gula anymore.’

A small smile stole over my face. I was just grateful that my goat-like face made it hard for onlookers to notice a wife’s blush under the fur.

‘It’s no small thing for a woman to wake up without her hunk of warm marble either. Rock can still change, though. You do seem to be getting better at walking around without a mask.’

His sigh filled my mind.

‘Palta was the leader of the scion squad the Rodring Kingdom was going to send after me. It wouldn’t be an immediate association, but constantly wearing a face cover is too unique a thing to risk. On the coldest days, I at least have a good excuse to wear one.’

We made a turn at the gate and walked into an open field of stone. The endless floor of smooth stone told me we were inside somewhere, yet the open sky above reminded me that we were outdoors. I noticed bits of blood along the wall testifying to the battle that had occurred here.

‘Taking out the pirate hold in the north was a bloodless affair. On our side at least.’ I mused.

‘Good. We can’t afford any casualties.’ Eli mused as the huge tower loomed closer.

Along its sides, I could see the other two towers further beyond. Neither had any armaments nor was the one on the right sporting a gate in its arch. The constant scurrying of workers in front of it and the field of stone summoning boards to my left gave the air here an excited energy, even with winter stealing any warmth to be found.

‘The refugees have been taking up a barracks and any space inside the one living complex I made. We’ve made great progress with their labor in setting up another. Seeing as how they’re only going to be staying here temporarily, I hope to have a nice place to set up for any interested parties looking to stay in my little corner of the world once they move out.’

‘How has that been coming along? I can’t imagine too many people would take a wild chance on a mage from seemingly nowhere.’

A soft groan came through the connection.

‘I’ve seen democracies at the endpoint of the mobs’ justice. Monarchies descend into the worst forms of nepotistic incompetence. Military dictatorships in the midst of inter-factional gang wars operating on the budget of nations. One of them had to be worse than this, but I couldn’t recall any off the top of my head.

They don’t even have a census, forget a steady civil government. Infrastructure, what little Crasden has, is almost entirely on the port and sucking out the mana. Everything else is a guessing game between the guard and harbormaster. Just doing the bare minimum in terms of sewage management and civil planning will be more than anything they’ve ever seen.’

Those words were very important. As the leader of the revived Kreshton clan, such matters were of vital importance to the wider conflict engulfing the region. A conflict that had already claimed hundreds of lives just in the short while we had been here. Which made it all the more tragic that I didn’t care. My husband had been gone for far too long and our reunion didn’t involve the fusing of lips or ripping of underwear that it should.

‘Eli… has your manhood been… reconstituted?’ I asked in a blunt tone as we approached a long rectangular stone home with a smooth half-oval roof and a door, in front of which was a floor of wood. Given our trajectory and the extra guardhouse on the right of the wooden slab, I didn’t bother asking where our destination was.

‘No,’ My husband replied without a single change in his demeanor. ‘I could heal it, then simply cut it off afterward if you’re in the mood.’

I stopped to look at him for a moment, which he returned with a raised eyebrow.

He was my husband. Yet he had lived a span of time my mind couldn’t hope to fully comprehend. A fact that was often forgotten amidst cuddles and kisses. Which only made it more jarring when that thing, that part of him that had used and replaced bodies with the commitment one had to a pair of clothes, suddenly reasserted itself.

It wasn’t human. I was even inclined to say it was nothing of the living, but it was in him all the same. I could deal with it. Such a feat typically required some time for mental preparation, more than the amount given with an off-handed offer of self-mutilation delivered like a casual discussion of the evening meal.

Looking into those green pools, I felt my moment of disturbance ease. Whatever was in there, it shared space with love. A genuine love for me and Gula that he had risked his life for.

Speaking of my sister-wife.

‘No, that won’t be needed.’ I refused with a continued walk forward. Something Eli moved to match as the sound of a river began asserting itself. Even with the spot of trouble, my blood was still hot. ‘Though… if you do want to fully enjoy our reunion, perhaps there is something we could do.’

‘Oh?’ He asked as we moved past the squat guardhouse.

It took a moment to respond as I realized that the house was surrounded by a river, something I recovered from as we moved over what I now knew to be a drawbridge.

‘Gula mentioned something about her first time with you. Something I’ve been wondering about.’ I asked as we crossed the bridge, suddenly feeling like a girl asking for her first kiss.

The door came into arms reach, but Eli stopped just in front of it.

‘Oh. Something I haven’t done for you yet, I assume.’ he asked, sounding rather pleased with himself in a voice soaked with confidence and a small hint of glee.

My curiosity was now almost as strong as my lust.

‘I believe we both agree on what we’re discussing.’ I offered as I went into the house, my guards stopping with a hand wave at the edge of the drawbridge. A nod from Eli made the humans do the same.

‘Salamede, action is the most persuasive speech. Perhaps a convincing start to these negotiations is in order.’

He closed the door behind him with a meaningful look to the door on my left. I nodded, moving to what I assumed to be his bedroom. There were a lot of precautions that needed to be taken. Air deadening spells deployed, inspections for spies and wind tunnels, and any number of other details. My blood and mind, however, were demanding answers as to why Gula had been so focused on that one act in her retelling. Answers laying just beyond the door whose handle I yanked open.